#minor character death tw

[cephalog0d]

Batfic - "Try, Try Again" (Whumptober Day 14)

Rating: Mature

Category: Gen

Characters/Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Damian Wayne, minor Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Reverse Robins, Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, Damian Wayne is Nightwing, Blood, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Stephanie-Brown centric, Stephanie Brown Needs A Hug, Stephanie Brown Gets A Hug, Good Sibling Damian Wayne

Summary:

Steph hadn’t been fast enough. There had been a shout, and a gun, and she had rushed to intervene but then there had been a shot, and there was blood, and running footsteps, and she had to do something, she had to try to help because she had been too slow to stop it from happening. The shooter was long gone. Maybe Tim was tracking him, maybe someone else would grab him, Steph couldn’t think about it, the man he had shot was on the ground and bleeding and she couldn’t think about anything else. A young Spoiler learns first hand how quickly a simple night of patrol can go badly. No. 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.” Flare | Water Inhalation | “Just hold on.”

Ages: Steph - 15, Tim - 16, Damian - 21 This is set very early on in Steph's Spoiler career, so she's still pretty new at handling some of the darker elements of crime fighting in Gotham City.

Steph hadn’t been fast enough. There had been a shout, and a gun, and she had rushed to intervene but then there had been a shot, and there was blood, and running footsteps, and she had to do something, she had to try to help because she had been too slow to stop it from happening. The shooter was long gone. Maybe Tim was tracking him, maybe someone else would grab him, Steph couldn’t think about it, the man he had shot was on the ground and bleeding and she couldn’t think about anything else.

“Help is coming,” she told him, ripping bandages out of her belt and pressing hard on the hole in the man’s chest. Red rushed up around her gloves (God those were probably filthy, there was no way they were good to have around an open wound) and he gasped, bloody foam leaking out of his mouth, and that was bad, that was very bad, but there was nothing else she could do. She wasn’t a medic, she didn’t have equipment, she had basic first aid supplies and training and none of that was up to dealing with this but she couldn’t just do nothing.

“Just hold on,” she said, trying to put as much warmth into her voice as she could since her face was hidden by her mask, and the blank darkness with big white eyes was definitely not designed to be comforting.

Tim was in her ear, relaying ETAs for an ambulance and updates on the shooter, but she was having trouble processing any of that. The bandages were saturated with blood and it had covered her hands completely up to her wrists and it was still coming. She pressed down harder, knowing that it had to be agonizing but not knowing what else to do to stop it.

“I’m sorry, I know, just hang on, just a little longer,” she said desperately. She could hear a distant siren but it was Gotham, she had no idea if it was headed for her or not, and it was hard to focus on anything besides the horrible choking gasps the man was making as he struggled to breathe, the way his eyes were wide with fear and pain.

“Spoiler!” Tim shouted in her ear in the way that said he had been saying it for a while. “Answer me!”

Steph took a deep breath and tried to wrangle her scattered thoughts.

“I’m here,” she said. “It’s bad.” Terrible status report, Stephanie, get it together. “Civilian injury, gunshot wound to the chest.”

“There’s an ambulance inbound, but it’ll be a few minutes.”

“Okay,” she said numbly. The man’s breathing had gone short and shallow, and his eyes were mostly closed and this was all her fault for not being fast enough, she couldn’t just walk away and leave him. Even if she was pretty sure the ambulance would be too late.

(Cont. on AO3)

#whumptober2023 #no. 14 #'Just hold on' #batfam #fic #blood tw #minor character death tw #reverse robins #stephanie brown #damian wayne #ceph writes things #(i haven't gone to bed yet so it still counts as the 14th shhhhh)

[wolfeyedwitch]

Weapons Don't Weep, Part 9

No. 3 A HAIR’S BREADTH FROM DEATH

Gun to Temple | “Say goodbye.” | Impaled

I know almost nothing about the military, and that's how I like it. Any inaccuracies about rank or protocol or what have you should be handwaved away; please do not tell me. Please do tell me if I missed any tags, or if you would like to join the taglist.

CW: gun violence, possessive whumper, abuse of authority, (spoilers, rest of CW in tags)

Masterlist

---

Dr. Evangeline Colman, known as Command, prided herself on her patience. She had been the one to develop the protocols that took an unknown danger to the nation and turned it into their finest weapon. The process had taken the better part of two decades, but the results had been well worth the wait. 

She was rather protective of her Weapon. With all the work she’d put into creating and molding it, it wouldn’t do to have all that go to waste because someone got careless. 

As such, her usual patience was in limited supply after hearing that the Weapon’s escort team was returning— without her Weapon.

Command met the team as they exited their vehicle into the compound built to house the Weapon. She noted that the two senior members, those that would have been in the car with the Weapon, were nowhere in evidence. 

“Status report,” she barked at the remaining team members, who all snapped to attention.

“Sir,” one said. “There was an ambush. The terrorists set off a- a shape charge, of some kind, while our convoy was exiting the area. They separated the vehicle with the Weapon, and pinned the rest of us down with covering fire.”

She studied the group. They looked agitated and unnerved, standard enough post unexpected combat. They also looked intimidated, which was the standard reaction to her presence. Underneath those, though… There was a faint hint of guilt, as well.

Command narrowed her eyes behind her glasses. “Who gave the order to retreat?”

None of them answered. 

She turned to the person at the end of the line, the newest member of the group. “Private Harris.”

The man looked alarmed to be addressed personally. “Sir?”

“Who gave the order to retreat, Private?” she asked softly. 

Private Harris visibly gulped. “Sir, I’m- I’m not—”

“Do you know the voices of your teammates, Private Harris?” Command asked, tone even.

“Yes, sir,” the private answered.

“So you would have recognized who gave the order. Is that not correct?” she asked.

“Yes, sir,” Private Harris answered. “I- I mean, no, sir! I- everything was so hectic, and—”

“Are you saying that you were not adequately trained to keep calm and respond as necessary in combat situations?” Command asked, raising her eyebrows. “Did you sleep through that day in basic training?”

“No; no sir,” he answered. The private was practically trembling with fear.

Good. He should be afraid. They all should be, for failing in such an important task. But the person who should be most afraid…

“It’s a simple question, Private. Who. Gave. The order,” Command repeated, enunciating each word clearly.

…was the one who made the decision to leave her Weapon behind.

Private Harris screwed up his courage and managed to say, “Corporal Miller, sir.”

She nodded sharply and turned to face the corporal. “Report.”

He, at least, hid his fear well. His voice was even and level as he spoke. “As stated in the initial report, Command, the convoy was separated via explosive device. Sergeants Lee and Thompson were incapacitated and taking heavy fire. I made the decision to retreat to protect the rest of the team and prevent further losses.”

Command looked him over, assessing him. She let the silence stretch uncomfortably in the wake of his words. Finally, she broke her stare. She took off her glasses and began to polish them with a handkerchief. 

“What type of sidearm do you carry as your service weapon, Corporal?” she said, not looking up from her glasses.

“A Sig Sauer M-17, sir,” he responded promptly. 

She finished polishing her glasses and put them on again. “Do you know the cost of that weapon?”

A frown flickered across his face before he composed his expression again. “About $600, I believe?”

“That model is sold on the civilian market for approximately $650, Corporal,” she said. “We, of course, received a discounted rate. Step forward.”

He complied with her order, stepping out of line.

“Hand me your service weapon.”

The corporal retrieved the handgun and held it out to her, grip first. 

Command took the weapon and checked it over. Full magazine, and one bullet in the chamber. She held the gun at her side, finger on the trigger guard, as she continued speaking. 

“It is important to know the worth of one’s tools, Corporal,” she said. “For instance, I know that you are worth $[amount]. That is your projected pay over the course of your military career.”

She let another uncomfortable silence settle over the room.

“Of course, that number can change drastically. Tell me, Corporal, which is your dominant hand?”

He didn’t let his confusion stop him from answering, “I’m right-handed, sir.”

Command nodded and took a step to her left. “For example. That number changes if you were to die. At that point, the calculations would be based on what we would have to pay to your next of kin.”

She turned to face the corporal again. “Do you know how much my Weapon, the one you gave the order to abandon, is worth?”

He stayed at attention, not turning to face her as he said, “No, sir.”

Command allowed a grim smile to spread across her face. “Far, far more than you.”

With that, she pressed the gun to his temple, released the safety, and pulled the trigger.

The silence following her actions was almost as deafening as the gunshot.

She stepped away from the spreading puddle of blood as she removed her fingerprints from the weapon with her handkerchief. Then she turned to face the remaining team members.

“Tragedy has struck today,” she said, voice carrying through the whole room. “We have lost three good men. Sergeants Ryan Thompson and William Lee were killed in another act of violence from these brutal terrorists. Corporal Miller then committed suicide upon returning to base, after failing to keep our most valued weapon out of enemy hands. We will not allow these actions to go unpunished. We will find these terrorists and make them answer for their crimes.”

She set the cleaned gun down next to the corpse on the floor.

“Now, find me my Weapon.”

---

Taglist:

@ghostfacepepper @kim-poce @badluck990 @cupcakes-and-pain @lonesome--hunter @wits-and-wrongs @neuro-whump @winedark-whump @aswallowimprisoned @rose-pinkie @whumpy-writings @whump-cravings @secretwhumplair @hobiisthesunfiteme @whumpcreations @myhusbandsasemni @heart4brains @kixngiggles @neverthelass @extrabitterbrain @towerlesskey @ohnowhump @vickytokio @whumpinggrounds @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @extemporary-whump @pigeonwhumps @ifurd4d @aswallowimprisoned

#whumptober 2022 #no. 3 #gun to temple #whumptober2022 #weapons don't weep #living weapon whumpee #military group #or quasi-military group #they're government sanctioned and they carry weapons don't ask any more than that #gun violence #minor character death #minor character death tw #command #command is a horrible person #possessive whumper #creepy whumper #abuse of power #abuse of authority #command is pissed that they left her weapon behind #alternate titles: #meanwhile back at the compound #a warning why you shouldn't lose other people's whumpees

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

Word Find Tag

I was tagged by @i-can-even-burn-salad uhhhh, quite some time ago. Thanks for the tag! (and your patience) 😅💜

Working on edits for the Hidden Depths arc 2 chapters I've completed, so I felt like doing one of these for the first arc :D

My words: low, high, joy, sorrow, and knife

Your words: never, murmur, life, change, mistake

Tagging (no pressure!): @imaginativemind29new, @clairelsonao3, @little-peril-stories, and Open Tag

Uhhh, CW for um, minor character death? on the first word. Its not gory, i cut the quote before we get to the gore 😅

Low - two of these, but i couldn't resist this one :)

Suddenly, there was light, and Resh stopped moving when his eyes immediately filled with tears at the pain it caused. Covering his face with his forearm, he blinked furiously. He needed to recuperate faster than Creve, grab the upper hand while he could. He needed to beat the other man into a pulp before the guards dragged Resh away. The light changed angles, like it was on the floor now. A thud sounded, accompanied by a sickening crunch and a long, low exhalation.  Resh blinked again, and his light-blinded eyes recovered enough to show him…  To show him… The pickaxe lodged in Creve's temple.

High - this is the only instance of high that wasn't describing screams XD

They were the smart ones. Carr cocked her head, locking gazes with Istin. The stocky blond was the newest among them. Apparently, he was still riding high on the power rush because he didn't even look concerned. His mistake. Before he could even blink, she released the throwing knife from her right wrist sheath and threw.

Joy - i'm actually surprised i had this one (and only this one lol)

As much of a joy as it was to lie on his shredded back, it was even more fun trying to lie on his side. Why couldn't he have broken limbs on the same side of his body, for fuck's sake? And forget trying to lie on his stomach—it was next to impossible to get up from the cot when he did. That was a mistake he wouldn't be making again.

Sorrow - i didn't have this in arc 1, surprisingly, so have a sneak peek from arc 2 :D

Breath coming short now, she reached up slowly to brush aside his bangs, giving him every opportunity to move away. But he didn’t. The brand still looked angry, irritated from the sweat beading on his forehead, perhaps. Carr let his hair fall back into place, curved her hand around his cheek, which she found wet with tears when he leaned into her touch. “I don’t give a shit about the scars, Resh,” she said, sorrow lacing her tone. “You aren’t disgusting, and you don’t need t’ hide them. I’m not…” she paused, unable to lie to him in this moment. “I’m not… entirely… uncomfortable cuz of you. Mostly it’s not you,” she clarified.

Knife - oh dear god, the choices... ahh, a classic, which has a comic! :D (and also its not an explicit torture scene, so no warning! lol)

Marcus cut off the extra length, then surveyed him, twirling his knife in his hand. "I think I like the thorns–how did I never think to use them before? Would you like a necklace, Resh?" Resh stared. A necklace? Of thorns? He started shaking his head. "No, I wouldn’t. My lord, please, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run, I was just… just scared. I'm fine now, I can work, I promise." The lopsided grin Marcus gave him looked boyish. It was obscenely out of place on his blood-spattered face. "Oh, you'll work, alright."

#starlit plays tag games #word find tag #hidden depths #resh is a sweetheart #carr doesn't give a fuck #minor character death tw #kind of lol

[spanishsenpai]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 1

Hey all! I'm steering a little of course from what I usually write lol! I'll update Daycare Attendant soon! I've just gotta write out this sudden obsession with Aitor from Dying Light 2. He's so bb gurl frfr.

What if Aitor had given any sign of life before Aiden bolted for the car factory?

Read it on AO3 if you'd rather! :D

“What the hell…?”

Aiden’s knees felt weak as he struggled to his feet. 

“My head … it's pounding …” He grit out. “What’s happening to me?” 

His throat was sore like he'd been screaming for hours. His body felt like one big bruise.

He lifted his head, looking around in a daze at the bodies on the floor. 

“What happened here?”

His thoughts were cut off with the static of a walkie talkie on the body in front of him. He stumbled to it, searching the pockets until he found the radio. “We’re about to start. Where are you?” 

Aiden’s eyes narrowed. Waltz.

“I’m almost to the car factory…”

Before Aiden could hear the rest, a groan sounded from further in the tunnel. His gaze snapped to the sound, barely processing the blue of a PK body struggling to get its arms under it. His eyes widened. Not just any PK body; Aitor.

His aches seemed to disappear as he stepped closer. How many times had he woken up surrounded by bodies and one was still alive? 

Never it felt like.

“Aitor… ?” He called, a small note of panic in his voice leftover from the adrenaline of whatever the fuck just happened. 

He’d rolled his limp body off his legs. He’d been sure Aitor was dead.

“Aitor?” He called again, sounding a little more confident.

“... Aiden?” Aitor coughed out, the word barely more than a wheeze. He grunted, falling limp on the concrete, speaking the one word seemingly taking all his energy.

Aiden could see his face now. Aitor’s eyes were just barely cracked open. Blood stained his teeth as he grimaced in obvious pain. Aiden knelt down next to him, hands hovering over his body. Should he turn him on his back? What if his neck was hurt?

The walkie buzzed again as someone spoke though Aiden was too caught up in his worry to hear the words. Immediately he was reminded of the stakes though.

“Fuck! Waltz has the key!” he snarled. Aitor didn’t react to this news. He was barely conscious. 

Desperation ran through Aiden. That key was the only way he was going to find Mia. He couldn’t let Waltz get away with it. 

Guilt filled him as he looked down at Aitor’s limp body. He was still awake, just barely though. Aiden had to go. He didn’t have time to get Aitor somewhere safe. 

This tunnel was surrounded by natural light and it was midday. He’d … He’d have to be okay until Aiden got the key back. “I’m sorry Aitor. Hang tight! I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

Aitor didn’t react to this other than to slowly close his eyes as he went slack again. 

There wasn’t time! Aiden growled, hesitating a moment longer before bolting to the tunnel entrance.

Aitor was tough. He’d be okay until Aiden got back.

Well shit, that was a mess.

“Run!” The sniper screamed, bolting for a building in ankle deep water.

Aiden almost went to follow her but even through the delirium of being nearly choked to death, he remembered Aitor. 

“No! I have to go back!” Aiden turned, bolting for the broken freeway. He was sure he could get back across. 

“Go back? Are you crazy?! He’s transforming!” She stopped going for the building and, seeing he wasn’t turning around, began to chase after him.

“The sun will buy me time!” He was at the edge of the solar panels, scrambling up what little footholds he could find. He didn’t expect to hear footsteps following him, especially after a familiar roar echoed from the factory. 

“Waltz will kill us!”

“A good man needs help!” Aiden yelled back, breathing hard as he climbed the asphalt. “I promised to come back for him.”

He heard a faint “Shit” behind him before the sniper was climbing after him. 

Just as he’d hoped, the sun stopped Waltz from being able to follow them. Even with his terrifying agility and immunity to the UV rays, midday was no joke on a volatile. 

Aiden’s hands shook, nearly making him fall a couple times. Aitor could be dead. He could be risking himself and the sniper for a dead man. It would be dark in only a few hours though and if Aitor was alive, if there was even a chance, Aiden wouldn’t leave him to die like that. He’d taken bigger gambles than this anyway.

His eyes widened as the tunnel entrance came into view. Almost there!

He was gasping for breath as his feet hit solid ground. He vaulted over the few cars and sprinted into the tunnel. The bodies were still here, undisturbed, making Aiden breathe a sigh of relief. No zombies had gotten in then. 

“Aitor!” He called, quickly spotting the group of blue bodies. He slid to kneel next to Aitor’s body, shaking hands reaching for his neck. He hadn’t moved from where Aiden had left him. 

His heart was pounding too hard to tell if Aitor’s heart was beating. He hesitated for only a moment before he carefully began to roll Aitor over onto his back. He nearly had a heart attack when Aitor jolted with a sharp cough as Aiden got him on his side. 

“Oh thank god. Aitor? Can you hear me?”

He didn’t fully process the sniper kneeling next to them. He did look up as she hissed though.

“He’s bleeding. There’s a puddle over here. Not a big one so probably not that serious,” she said, poking careful fingers along Aitor’s spine. “Keep him on his side. If he’s on his back he might choke on his blood.”

Aitor only wheezed as he was poked and prodded. When the sniper gently pressed a palm to the center of his vest, Aitor cried out, trying to flinch away from the pressure.

“His ribs are probably fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Aiden finally said. “Waltz got him pretty good.”

“Fighting Waltz and living? He’ll have serious bragging rights if he makes it.”

“Hear that Aitor? I’d say you’re keeping that promotion,” Aiden called, hoping that Aitor was going to respond. 

He got a huff. He’d call that a win.

“Where are we taking him?” She asked, done with her inspection for now.

“There’s a safe house near here. It’s too close to dark to take him anywhere else.”

“Alright, we’ll have to get him to wake up more if we want the best chance though. Think you can do that?”

“Yeah… yeah I can do that.”

Could he though? He’d try at the very least. 

“Aitor, hey, you need to wake up.” Aiden patted his cheek, wincing when Aitor wheezed a little louder. A few more calls for him to wake up did nothing. The sniper was starting to look impatient and Aiden wasn’t sure he could get Aitor to the safe house on his own. 

Fuck, sorry Aitor. He pressed a little harder on Aitor’s ribs. Hopefully not enough to knock him out fully, but just enough to wake him up. 

Aitor gasped, hands finally moving to weakly push at Aiden’s arm. 

“F-Fu… St-Stop…” he ground out, eyes fluttering open. Aiden felt one of his legs bump him from behind but Aitor was too weak to really do anything. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. You have to stay awake though Aitor.”

Aitor’s eyes seemed to focus on the face above him. Aiden happened to notice the nasty bruise on his jaw and the blood soaking into his hair from his temple. 

“Yeah, just like that. Come on Aitor.”

“Wha... What… hap-pened?” He gasped out. 

“Waltz nearly killed you.”

“... My… s-squad… ?”

“I’m sorry. They… They didn’t make it.”

Aitor looked like he wanted to give up on being awake as he processed the words. 

“No, no! Stay with me Aitor!” Aiden frantically patted Aitor’s cheek as his eyes threatened to close. “Come on!”

Aitor’s eyes opened again.

“There you go. How… How many fingers am I holding up?” When he didn’t answer for a moment, Aiden repeated himself. “Aitor? How many fingers?”

“... F-Fo-ur…”

No, that was wrong. Aiden curled his two fingers back into a fist. That was fine. He could fix that later. For now, thinking was waking Aitor up again. Which was good. Great in fact. Just a little more and they might be able to walk him out of here. 

“Aitor, we need to get up. There’s a safe house we can go to but you have to walk.”

Aitor let out a weak cough that sounded like an “Okay”. 

“Puddle’s a little bigger back here,” the sniper interrupted. “We gotta get moving.”

Aiden swallowed thickly, “Alright. Aitor, get ready to sit up.”

Aitor huffed. 

“I’ve got him back here,” the sniper said.

“Okay, I’m lifting in one, two, three.”

They slowly brought Aitor’s torso off the ground. No matter how slow they went though, it wouldn’t have felt any less painful. Aitor let out a strangled cry, legs weakly shuffling as a hand came up to grip Aiden’s wrist as hard as he could, which wasn’t much. Internally, Aiden winced but didn't stop until Aitor was almost fully vertical. The pain seemed to wake him up further though. His eyes were a little clearer as they darted around, taking in the situation. 

“You with us?” Aiden asked. 

“Y-Yeah-” Aitor gasped out. “My… ri-ribs.” His words were halted and stuttering as his lungs desperately tried to avoid even grazing his ribs. Of course, the effort was futile.

“We know. We’ll take care of it once we get to the safe house.” Aiden brought one of his hands in front of Aitor. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“T-Two.”

Aiden let out a breath of relief. “Head damage must not be that bad then.”

“Getting to his feet’s gonna be worse,” the sniper piped up. “He might pass out.”

Aitor jolted at her voice, immediately trying to twist around to see who was behind him. He froze mid motion though as his body practically seized from the sudden movement.

“Hey! Don’t do that,” Aiden barked, using his free hand to steady Aitor.

“Wh-o… ?”

“She’s a friend. Don’t worry about it right now.”

A quiet growl was his response. No one would be happy in this situation, least of all Aitor, but he seemed to accept there was little he could do about it. Already, Aiden could feel him starting to tremble. Hopefully it was from pain and not shock.

The sniper had already shifted to a crouch to lift Aitor up. Aiden quickly followed suit. 

“Are you ready to get up?”

Aitor nodded stiffly. Aiden felt him tense up in preparation for the pain that would surely follow.

“Three, two, one, and- up!”

Aitor cried out as they brought him up to his feet. He would have immediately toppled over if the two hadn’t secured their grip on him. He gasped raggedly as he fought to get his jellied knees to hold him. He stumbled before he got them to lock up. 

They gave him a moment to breathe. His body was trembling worse now. God, Aiden hoped that wasn’t shock.

“L-Let’s go,” he gasped out, taking a shaking step forward.

“Wait. Wait a second.” Aiden carefully put Aitor’s arm around the back of his neck, the sniper doing the same before they started forward.

The tunnel entrance, the one leading back to Old Villedor, was a short distance away, yet Aitor’s brow was already shining with sweat. His steps were slow and he practically tripped over his own feet. The only thing keeping him up was Aiden and the sniper. 

Aiden prayed the power to the door was working now. A breath escaped him as the metal creaked with rust but lifted all the same. The zombies he’d cleared out before he’d come in here hadn’t replaced themselves, leaving them a semi straight shot to the closest rooftop. 

Walking was one thing, climbing was another. Aiden hadn’t even thought about how they’d get Aitor up to a roof yet.

“Judging by how walking’s going, I’d say climbing is out of the question,” the sniper said, like she was reading his mind. “We’ll probably have to clear out a few floors in this apartment to get him up there.”

Aiden looked between her and the apartment building they’d stopped in front of, nodding finally. Four floors. Usually he only had to clear out one but he could work with this.

“Can you stay out here with him?” She’d come this far with them, surely she wouldn’t turn on them and kill Aitor now.

She nodded and they set to getting Aitor on the sidewalk. He choked down any cries, but his breath still came out in harsh pants as he was settled with his back against the building.

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” Aiden assured before he quickly slipped into the front door. 

Clearing out the building wasn’t hard. The zombies here were feeble from being locked away with no food for so long. A few molotov’s and one shattered tire iron and the place was clear from the ground floor to the roof.

Back outside, the sniper was collecting an arrow from a zombie’s chest across the street. Aitor looked like he was on the verge of passing out, face pale and eyes barely open. They needed to hurry. 

“Hey!” He called as loud as he dared, “It’s clear now.”

She jogged back over to them. Together they crouched and lifted Aitor up far less carefully than they had the first time. Aitor didn’t complain, just let out a sharp huff. Somehow he was even worse on his feet than before. They had to practically lift him up each step of the stairs as his legs fumbled with lifting that short distance. Whether Aitor was aware of it or not, he had started to grip the shoulder of Aiden’s jacket with an iron grip as they went. Aiden didn’t mention it.

He also didn’t mention how the shiny red spot on the front of Aitor’s shirt was growing. He wasn’t sure where the cut had come from but it couldn’t be helping Aitor’s already feeble balance.

“We’re almost there. There’s a bridge connecting this roof to the one with the safe house.”

“Good. Your friend’s starting to get heavy.”

She was right. Aitor was slowly putting more weight on them as his steps grew sloppier.

“Hear that Aitor? Almost there,” Aiden huffed as they lifted him up the last step. Thank god. The sun was close to setting and Aiden’s own body was protesting that fight from earlier.

“Y-Yeah.” Aitor’s voice came out more like a whisper.

The ramp wasn’t wide enough for them to walk side by side, so they opted to crab shuffle across. Aitor tried but his legs were basically only able to hold him up at this point.

“This is not how I saw my day going,” the sniper huffed as she stepped onto the other roof.

“I don’t think anyone did.”

Aitor didn’t respond.

“There it is, Aitor. Almost th- !” 

Aitor’s leg buckled, almost taking them all to the ground. They righted themselves but the movement was sharp enough for Aitor to cry out again. Aiden and the sniper’s heads snapped to the right as a couple growls responded to the sound.

Unfortunately, while the bridge had been helpful for them to get to the safehouse, another bridge leading to the neighboring zombie infested roof was less so. The zombies stumbled for them. Towards the back, one looked like it was about to start sprinting. 

“Shit! We gotta move,” she snapped.

Aitor seemed to understand as his grip on Aiden’s sleeve tightened. His steps were a little more solid as they dragged him along faster, shaky pained sounds spilling out of him. Aiden’s watch beeped, signaling that it was officially nighttime and they were still several yards from the safe glow of the UV lamps.

“Take him! I’ll hold them off,” she ordered, sliding Aitor’s arm off her shoulders. 

Aitor nearly crumpled to the ground as his arm flopped down and smacked him in the side. “No, no, no, come on Aitor.”

“Sh-Shit,” he wheezed, feet scrambling to keep up with Aiden’s too fast steps. Damn those heavy PK boots. 

A shriek to his right made Aiden jump. A decayed face climbed over the side of the building and bolted right for them. Aiden kicked it in the chest, nearly losing his grip on Aitor as the lieutenant let out a choked cry. His once limp arm grabbed Aiden’s jacket with trembling fingers to keep from falling completely. The sniper was back then, pushing the zombie the rest of the way off the roof. 

As soon as the purple light enveloped Aitor’s face, Aiden breathed out a sigh of relief. The sun was down and zombies were coming but they had made it. Quickly, the sniper came around and flung open the door, allowing them all to shuffle inside. His back was screaming from supporting Aitor for so long, yet as he went to set Aitor down on the pile of blankets called a bed, she came over to help, just as slow and careful as he was.

Aitor groaned as he nearly went boneless once his legs weren’t supporting him. Aiden had to quickly grab his shoulders to keep him up. “Can’t lay down just yet Aitor. Hey,” he called, raising his voice so the sniper would know he was talking to her, “can you-”

“Already on it.” 

She had gathered every soft thing in the little safe house and begun stacking them behind Aitor. The pile was just high enough to keep him elevated. Now he could lay on his back without choking. They eased him down. As Aitor’s body registered something even semi comfortable, he went limp and passed out.

Before Aiden could freak out about it, the sniper spoke. “Well I guess it's time to doctor him up while he’s out.”

“Y-Yeah. Thank you… for helping me get him here.”

“I’d say no problem but it was. Favors are good to have though.” They worked in silence for a moment, carefully undressing Aitor’s upper half to reveal the dark bruises and cut on his front. Even with how gently Aiden was wrapping bandages around his ribs, Aitor’s breath still hitched with pain at any pressure. 

“Hey, since we’re stuck here for the night, you can call me Lawan.”

Aiden’s hand jerked, making Aitor gasp even when unconscious. “Shit!” He cursed, resuming his careful wrapping as he glanced up at Lawan. “I’ve been looking for you for weeks. Dylan sent me with this-”

They talked through the night about Dylan, the GRE, Waltz, all while they checked that Aitor was still alive. A couple hours before morning, Aitor groaned as he slowly became aware again, eyes blinking rapidly to try and clear away his fuzzy vision. 

Almost immediately, Aiden was by his side. “Hey, careful. You’re not even close to being ready to move yet.”

“What,” he took in a sharp breath at the return of the pain in his chest and his face and his back and everywhere really, “What happened?”

“Waltz.”

Aitor had to think for a moment, struggling to remember. His eyes widened and he tried to sit up fully as he gasped out, “My squad.”

Aiden quickly stopped him from sitting up, though his face was somber. “I’m sorry. Waltz killed them all. I’m sure you’re lucky to even be alive right now.”

Aitor coughed out a ruthful chuckle, settling back into the soft pile, “Yeah… lucky.”

“I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say. 

“Where’s my armor?” He asked after a minute. He’d looked down and found himself only in his unbuttoned brown shirt. Bandages covered his chest while a blanket had been put over his legs. 

“Over here. I don’t think you should put it on for a while though. Your ribs are busted up.”

“Yeah. Could tell that from how they feel,” he coughed out. 

“Is there anywhere we missed? Any other place that hurts?”

Aitor squinted up at him. “We?”

“You don’t remember me and her carrying you up here?” Aiden asked, shuffling to the side so he could point out Lawan. 

He was quiet for another moment before slowly nodding. “F-Faintly.” He sighed, relaxing fully into the pile of various pillows and backpacks behind him. 

“I think my ribs are the worst. Nothing is really screaming at me other than that.”

“You’ve also got a cut down here.” He pointed to just above Aitor’s pant line where another bandage and gauze were placed. “One of your knives probably got you when Waltz knocked them out of your hands.” He didn’t say, when Waltz kneed you so hard you passed out. If Aitor didn't have a memory of that, Aiden didn’t want to be the one to give it to him. 

“This is a real shit show,” Aitor breathed out. He brought a stiff arm up to rub over his eyes. 

Aiden didn’t comment on that and neither did Lawan. The former Pilgrim sighed, “As soon as morning comes, we’ll walkie the Peacekeepers to come get you.”

Aitor let out a huff, closing his eyes for a moment. Aiden didn’t envy how he was likely feeling. 

“Thank you Aiden. You’ve helped me out again.”

Aiden gave him a small smile. “No problem at all.”

#whumptober2023 #no.1 #“How many fingers am I holding up?” #dying light 2 #dying light #dying light aitor #dl2 aitor #dying light aiden #aiden caldwell #dl2 aiden #fanfiction #fic #minor character death tw #blood tw #broken bones tw #cursing tw #whump #im only tagging people who get even slightly whumped #oneshot

[andizoidart]

“…”

“…Mim-” “It was a crab trap… a stupid fucking crab trap…”

“Mimic-” “I didn’t even think twice, I didn’t pay attention”

“If I had *just* looked around and seen the trash-” “Mimic, that’s not-” “I was supposed to *protect* them! I thought they would be safe here-” “Mimic. This is not your fault.”

“You know whose fault it is.”

“My babies,,” “Here, let’s wrap them all up, we can take them to Nightmare and Dream, they should know what to do…”

————————————————————————

The dumping of trash into the ocean is a big problem for wildlife and their environments. It can destroy their habitats, pollute the water, and much more. Be mindful at the beach, clean up after yourself, and recycle.

Leviathantale and its Cross, Nightmare, and Dream belong to @skumhuu Mimic!Sans belongs to myself

Day 24 Prompt: Trash

Full drawing and some info under the cut

About Mimic: Mimic is an addition I made to the Nightmare Gang based on the analysis of traits, fighting styles, weaponry, personality, skills, and villain archetypes. Do I expect him to be welcomed with open arms? No, no I don’t. Do I expect him to become canon to anyone else’s AUs like leviathantale? No, because that is not my choice or under my control. This is my canon to my version of his story. It is NOT canon to Skumhuu’s story or anything they do. It’s their story and they will write as they please.

#andi speaks #andizoid #andizoidart #my art #my character #not my character #not my characters #skumhuu #mermay 2022 #leviathantale #leviathantale!cross #leviathantale!nightmare #leviathantale!dream #leviathantale!mimic #mimic!sans #mimic #xxxxx(?¿?) #tw minor character death #minor character death #minor character death tw #child death tw #tw child death #child death #I don’t know how to tag this #tw gore #gore tw

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober Day 26

Still writing these! So close to finishing them! Enjoy some Morally Grey Merlin

Teen & Up - Gen - Merlin

The Power of God in His Eyes

     Merlin nodded once to the prison guard as he passed him, walking the familiar route down to the prison. How many times had he done this? How often had he met the eyes of the condemned behind the prison bars? How many more times would he walk this same path? And when would he be the one waiting behind bars at the end of it?

     Inside the cell he came to, was a man dressed in the clothes of a commoner. He was perhaps in his late thirties, with a dark beard and the start of wrinkles around his eyes. He glanced up as Merlin stepped up to the bars, eyes wary as they met the servant’s gaze.

     “They say you killed a man,” Merlin said quietly, searching the man’s eyes.

     “And what’s it to you?” The man asked, standing up and puffing his chest out.

     “I want to know why you did it.” The warlock said, glancing over his shoulder before looking back at the man.

     His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”

     “Does it matter?” Merlin asked after a heavy pause of internal debate.

     “Well, if it doesn’t matter, I’m not telling you a thing.” The man said, settling back down on the ground, lying on his side facing away from Merlin. “Leave the dead to sleep, boy.”

     The servant stared at the prisoner for a moment longer before he left, exhaustion clinging to his shoulders as he walked back, passing the guard with hardly an acknowledgement.

 || || || || || ||

     Merlin was tired. Physically, mentally… emotionally. Being a servant to the king, one whose secret could never be revealed, was exhausting. Between juggling chores and saving Arthur’s life time and time again without any recognition or reprieve, Merlin was drained. He went about his days in a fog, polishing silverware and destroying threats to the king as if they were one and the same task, doing it all with barely a flicker of real emotion on his face. His secret was weighing on him more and more every day, leaving him numb as he witnessed the increasing injustice towards his people, perpetrated not only by the king but also by his own people as they worked to ruin the peace he was trying so hard to maintain until Arthur could see reason.

     It wasn’t easy, though, walking the thin line between loyalties, and Merlin found himself in quite an exhausting predicament. A man had been sentenced to death. His crime? Magic. And murder. So yes, Merlin understood that a murderer didn’t exactly deserve mercy, but the fact that his magic had been the deciding factor in his trial left a sour taste in Merlin’s mouth. The man had hardly even defended himself, giving in to his fate, and Merlin had no idea if the murder had been brought on by self-defense or not. Had the trial focused on the actual crime’s motive and not on the means the man used, he wouldn’t have bothered feeling betrayed by Arthur’s decision. But every time Merlin heard the talk among the castle servants, how they called the damned man a sorcerer but never a murderer, he felt it like another needle being pressed into his skin. Thus, his predicament: Could he let the man die for his background and not his actual crime?

     Emrys was meant to save his people, not condemn them. Hadn’t he let enough of his people down?

⚔

     The man stood on the platform in the courtyard, flanked by guards. Merlin was posted against the wall behind Arthur on the balcony, and the king stood at the low wall of the balcony, ready to signal the executioner. A crowd had gathered in the courtyard, milling around in anticipation of the execution, like a flock of vultures circling a fresh kill. It was sickening to see.

     The crowd quieted as Arthur spoke. “Robert John Reed. By the laws pursuant of Camelot, you are adjudged guilty of practicing magic and committing murder. As such, I, Arthur Pendragon and King of Camelot, sentence you to death for your crimes. Have you any last words?” The question went unanswered aside from a scowl beneath eyes filled with fear and hatred. Arthur nodded at the guards, and the men forced the criminal to kneel over the basket that would catch his severed head. Merlin watched, feeling almost detached from the moment as Arthur raised his hand and let it drop.

     The executioner raised his axe, and Merlin’s eyes flared with gold. The head of the axe flew off on the downswing, the blade arcing over the crowd to hit the stone wall, while the man stumbled at the change in weight, nearly falling over as his swing missed the criminal by inches. Screams and murmurs went through the crowd, and Arthur swiftly tried to calm the people as he ordered another axe to be brought up. Merlin eyed the new blade with disinterest and a spark of gold as the executioner raised the heading axe. The headman stumbled backward this time as the wood handle snapped and dropped the blade behind him.

     At this point, the crowd started laughing at the spectacle, the criminal himself joining in as he lifted his head and mocked the crown. “Seems like the King of Camelot should be able to afford better equipment, don’t you think?” Reed called out, the man grinning.

     “You’ve placed a curse on these weapons, haven’t you?” Arthur asked, glaring at the man with such anger that the crowd fell silent even as the man answered.

     “Oh, yes, absolutely,” Reed said, and Arthur called for a sword to be brought to the executioner instead. This time, though, right as the sword was about to touch the man’s neck, it shattered into pieces, raining down around the man’s head but leaving not a single scratch behind.

     The crowd gasped in surprise, and Merlin nearly smiled for a moment before the people started wailing about the so-assumed curse and calling for the man’s head as their fear escalated.

     At length, after more broken weapons, Arthur had had enough. “This is ridiculous. His execution shall be postponed! He dies tomorrow in the fire. Take him away!”

     Merlin watched that evening as the pyre was built, sitting with his back against the stone wall. He didn't know what he was trying to accomplish in prolonging the criminal’s death. He couldn't really sympathize with a murderer whose motive was yet unclear, but he couldn't let the crown continue persecuting his people. Still, he couldn't condone his people using their magic for evil. It was something to think about.

🍽

     Again, Merlin found himself standing outside the prison cell, the man chuckling as he saw him in the low light of dawn coming from the high window of the cell. “Back again, I see. Have a fascination with the living dead, don't you, boy?”

     “Why did you kill that man?” Merlin asked, still intent on discovering the man’s motive. If he could just get a straight answer, then he could wash his hands of the matter once and for all.

     “Not this again. Aren't you going to ask me how I cursed the weapons? At least make your interrogation interesting.” Reed groused, meeting Merlin’s gaze as the servant knelt beside him.

     “I don't believe you cursed them,” Merlin said after a short pause, watching as the man tensed. “The look of fear that was in your eyes?” He said, eyebrows raised knowingly. “It lingers there even now. That gives you away.”

     Reed looked away from Merlin’s piercing stare, fingers twisting a piece of hay from the floor of the cell. “You know nothing of sorcery, boy. Leave me alone to enjoy my last meal.” He ordered, picking up the plate of mush he’d ignored and taking a pointed bite of the gruel to dismiss Merlin.

⛈

     “Morning, King Arthur! Lovely day for a burning, isn't it?” Reed called from his place tied to the stake. The courtyard was just as crowded as the day before, if not moreso, as everyone gathered to see the sorcerer killed.

     “Light the pyre. This mockery ends now.” Arthur said, voice hard as he ordered the deed. Merlin watched as the torch was brought to kindling lining the pyre, his eyes moving from the crackling flames to the man on the pyre.

     Reed looked calm as the fire was set, but as the kindling started to burn, the flames catching on the larger pieces of wood and sending smoke toward him, the man looked increasingly panicked, his head swiveling and eyes scanning the crowd as if looking for someone to save him. “Stop this!” He called out at length, desperation clear on his face as he started coughing in the smoke. “Please! Stop this, I beg you!” He pleaded, and Merlin watched as Arthur’s fists clenched, the king looking away briefly before looking back up.

     Arthur hated the pyre just as much as Merlin did, and the warlock knew this. The king didn’t want to watch the man burn but felt it his duty as he held his gaze on the pyre.

     “Please, I beg you!” Reed called out again as the flames danced dangerously close to his legs, his voice ragged from the smoke. Merlin sighed softly then, glancing around him before waving his hand indifferently. “Please, dear God!” The man shouted just before the wind Merlin conjured blew through the courtyard, whipping up people’s hair and clothes in disarray before snuffing out the fire.

     Arthur straightened at the sight, and Reed was silent for a moment before sobbing in gratitude. “Add more kindling! Light it again!” Arthur shouted, and Merlin’s eyes glanced down and away from his king when he heard the fear behind his words. Was it worth saving one person if it meant Arthur’s fear of magic grew?

     The fire was lit once more, and this time, Reed was quiet as he watched it, or perhaps his throat was simply too aggravated from the smoke. Then he looked into the sky, lips moving as Merlin watched him, his silent pleas mirroring the tears in his eyes. Merlin nearly called forth the wind again, but doing so would just prolong the spectacle. If he did that, Arthur could have them relight the fires all day until they ran out of wood. No, there was a better way to do it, he decided.

     Baby blue eyes rose to the sky, and as he watched, clouds swirled together, quickly covering the previously cloudless sky. The courtyard grew dark, the crowd murmuring in shock and fear. Merlin closed his eyes, feeling his power grow as he focused his energy. Thunder rumbled overhead, the sound like an army marching toward battle. Arthur was saying something that was lost to the wind as it picked up, and Merlin’s eyes snapped back open as lightning cracked across the sky and sent a deluge into the courtyard. People were screaming, running from the square as the skies poured out Merlin’s fury over them. The flames quickly died out under the rain, and as Merlin watched, a guard went for his sword and advanced on Reed. Merlin scowled. His eyes raised back up to the sky, and his magic gripped onto the answering power he found there, his eyes darting back to the soldier, a lightning bolt following his gaze as it hit the ground right in front of him, sending the man back.

     No one else dared to go near the pyre, and slowly, Merlin let his control of the weather wane, the thunderstorm turning to light rain and then a drizzle until it stopped altogether. The clouds slowly parted, the sun returning as a ray shone directly on Reed, who was staring up at the clouds in awe.

     “Do you see this, Arthur?” Reed called, his voice almost startling in the quiet left by the storm’s wake. “The heavens themselves open up to stop my death from occurring. I always knew that magic wasn't evil, and now God himself is proving it! Why else would I be spared?”

     Arthur seemed to be thrown for a loop because it took him a minute to answer, fear and anger in his voice. “Nonsense! This is another one of your tricks!”

     “Perhaps you simpletons believe that, but I know no sorcerer able to command the heavens themselves, do you?” Reed asked before turning his head to meet Arthur’s gaze. “So tell me, Arthur, are you really willing to challenge God?”

     The king bristled at the man’s audacity. “If God's mercy truly is upon you, he can prove so again.” He stated, gaining confidence as he spoke. “Tomorrow, you hang, and I assure you, God will be the only one able to save you.” He said, catching Percival’s eye and nodding, watching as the loyal knight took the lead in escorting the man back to his cell.

䷡

     “Why did you kill him?” Merlin asked, sitting with his back turned to the cell, leaning against the bars. He was so tired of stretching out the spectacle of the man’s death. He was tired of everything he did, marking another notch of Arthur’s growing fear. How could he keep going like this? What was he trying to prove, really? Why could he wield such power when it only served to harden Arthur’s heart?

     “You still stuck on that? Don't you see that it doesn't matter anymore?” Reed asked, the grin evident in his voice as he spoke to Merlin’s back. “Any blood that I've spilled has been wiped clean, boy! God saved my life, poured the heavens out upon me, baptizing me as his emissary!” He exclaimed, voice loud in the quiet air of the prison. “Can't you see? His plan will not be stopped by the likes of the king! No, he will use me to usher in his kingdom, a realm of magic that we've been denied by the crown.” 

     Merlin rolled his eyes at the man’s delusions of grandeur, but the corner of his lips twisted into the approximation of a smile. “You really think that God saved you?” Merlin asked, nearly laughing at the thought.

     “You saw it yourself. No mortal man wields that power. You watch tomorrow, boy. When I'm rescued once again, you'll know it's true. Perhaps you'll even join me as I cleanse this kingdom for God.” Reed intoned behind him, still grinning even as Merlin’s faint smile faded.

     He wasn’t a god, but he did wield such power. Was it possible that he had taken on such a role in his efforts to restore magic? God was said to judge and punish those he found unworthy. Hadn’t Merlin begun doing that very thing? Hadn’t he killed those he found irredeemable? Hadn’t he spared those he thought could change? Hadn’t he commanded the sky just hours prior with hardly a thought? The power he’d held in that moment… It had felt good and effortless. Merlin felt nearly unstoppable in that moment, invincible. Reed, the crowd, and Camelot itself were under his mercy at that moment. He could have destroyed them with a thought.

     Merlin chased the thoughts away as he closed his eyes. “I’m not even sure if I believe in God.” He whispered, getting up and walking away from the man as he screamed blasphemy at his back.

ਠ

     The next day, the courtyard had twice as many people in it as it had the day before, and Merlin frowned thoughtfully as he sensed an increased number of druids among the people. There had been a few the previous days. An execution always brought a few of them out, lending to their morbid curiosity of how they may one day perish. But after the day before, it seemed more had come out of curiosity of Emrys’ feats than anything. Perhaps they were hoping to see his magic for themselves.

     Reed was led up to the newly constructed platform, the man wearing a self-assured smirk as the noose was tightened around his neck. Merlin heard Arthur’s order, and his eyes flared in defiance of the order. The latch below the man dropped open, but instead of Reed falling through it, he just floated there, as if still standing. People started panicking, wondering if there was any way to kill the man, and Arthur clenched his fists as the sorcerer began to laugh.

     The sound grew louder and louder, twisting as it became more deranged until, finally, the man spoke with a manic grin on his face. “I told you, your majesty! I am made invincible!” He shouted, and Merlin watched grimly as the druids in the crowd were drawn in by his voice. “God himself gives me the means to keep living! He denies you your hatred of magic, and offers you into my hand! Magic will have its place in Camelot once more! And your death, Arthur Pendragon, will be by my hand, the hand of a murderer whose slate has been wiped clean by God. I have been chosen as his emissary, and I'll spill your blood like I did that braggart! Then may God have mercy on your sou-”

     The man’s words cut off with a gasp and a snap as the man dropped and the rope caught him. Shock fell over the crowd as the man’s body hung in the air, swaying slightly in the breeze. Merlin stared coldly at the man he let die before turning his attention to the druids gathered in the crowd. His voice came through loud and clear in their minds as he projected it to them over the relieved cheers of the public.

     “Listen to my words now and carve them into your hearts if that is what it takes for you to remember them. Magic will have its time once again, but it will not be by the hands of men like this one! Any who use magic to harm others will not receive my protection nor my mercy. I am Emrys, and I will defend this kingdom from anyone who dares to come against it in violence. So I command you, as leader of the druids, as the crown's protector, leave this place in peace today or perish by my hand!”

     He didn’t linger to acknowledge their answers nor to check on Arthur, who was hunched over the balcony wall. He was done with letting things go on like this, and now they knew. The word would spread, he was sure, and the next time one of them dared to harm Arthur, he would destroy them without hesitation.

     He may not be God, but if that’s what it took to ensure peace, then he was more than ready to play the part.

#whumptober2023 #no.26 #lyric #sometimes i get so tired i don't even know myself #merlin #fic #execution tw #morally grey merlin tw #minor character death tw #read on ao3 #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfiction #ao3 link #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #bbc merlin

[strangersteddierthings]

What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Prompt from @devious-kitten

Steve had a mild interest in DnD as a freshmen because of a cousin or something. The interest was killed by Eddie being mean since Steve is a jock. Post vecna Eddie finds dust covered DnD handbook Steve explains and Eddie faces a still hurt Steve as a results of his biases

((Half written fic, half rambling about how it would go down. Apologies for the formatting. Also I added more angst than the prompt called for hehe))

Steve has always loved sports. This is a well-known fact. He's played on some sort of sports team from the time he was old enough for his parents to be able to sign him up.

A lesser-known fact is that Steve loves fantasy. Or, at least, he used to. On the playground in elementary school, Steve could often be found playing knights and dragons, and it was anyone's guess if he would be a knight or a dragon on any particular day.

The summer between middle and high school, Steve spent with his grandparents from his mother's side, on the farm they'd retired on in Michigan. A month long stay that he'd shared with his cousins, Amber, Robert, and Christopher. Amber and Robert are twins, four years younger than Steve, and Christopher was two years older and infinitely cooler than anyone else Steve knew.

Christopher was on the varsity basketball team at his high school when he was just a sophomore, captain of the JV football team, president of the chess club, and in a games club.

Christopher was everything Steve wanted to be now that he was going to be in high school. Minus the chess club because

It was during that summer, Steve got to indulge in playing make believe for another summer with his younger cousins, without the judgement of people (his father and peers) who thought he was too old for such things. He also got to learn about make believe for older kids, because Christopher played a game called Dungeons and Dragons with his game club the last month of school before summer break and spent many evenings going over what had happened with Steve as a captive audience.

"I wish I'd brought the books," Christopher had whispered to him one night from the bed, peaking over to look down at Steve in his sleeping bag on the floor, "we could have played."

Steve wishes he'd brought the books, too.

At the end of July, Christopher, Amber, and Robert's parents show up to pick them up, five days before Steve's scheduled flight to Indianapolis. It's a sad goodbye because one summer a year isn't enough with his cousins but they live in Washington. Steve's always jealous their parents drive all the way to pick them up, but a little proud he gets to brag about how he's flown alone since he was seven. No one else in his class can brag about that.

His mom picks him up in Indianapolis and they go back to school shopping while there.

A week later, Steve receives a package from Christopher. Inside Steve finds Advanced Dungeons and Dragons books, three of them, and even though Christopher said nothing about advanced, he's sure he can manage. On the inside cover of the players handbook, Christopher has written:

Hey Steve, I think you'd rock playing a dwarf paladin. Let's play next summer? Christopher 1981

He spends the last three weeks of summer vacation reading the player handbook cover to cover and making a character. It's slow going, because letters don't stay where they're supposed to be on the page (that's a problem he's had his whole life, so he's not surprised but he is determined), and he's never been good at math, so getting the stats down on paper isn't easy. He can't decide what he wants to play, so he makes two characters; an elf magic-user and, of course, a dwarf paladin.

(He's a little disappointed you can't be a dragon.)

Steve's never been one to dread the first day of school, but he's never actually looked forward to it, either. It's just been another day.

Until today.

Today is his first day as a high schooler. And the only people who go to the first day are Freshman, except the upper classman that have volunteered to man the booths for school activities for the last hour of the day. It's supposed to help the Freshman get the lay of the land without being overwhelming and Steve's excited for it. He needs to see if Hawkins High has a games club like Christopher's school does.

Here Steve is, that last hour of school. He's already been to the basketball booth, promising to sign up as soon as the season started, and the swim booth because he's got a pool at his house and has been swimming for as long as he can remember and knows he enjoys it. He also stops by the football booth even though he's never played, or cared much, for it. (Maybe he's trying to emulate Christopher, sue him.). So, the final thing is to see if Hawkins High offers a chess club and a game club.

Steve is delighted to see that, though there is no games club, there is a Dungeons and Dragons club! That delight wavers because of the kid manning the booth. His hair is curly and falls just below his ears, with big brown eyes. Steve hates to think it, but he'd be cute if he didn't look like he wanted to stab Steve.

"Yeah, no, keep walking," says the boy, pulling the flier with meeting information on it out from under Steve's hand, where he'd been attempting to read it.

Steve looks up, brows furrowed in confusion. "I was reading that."

"And I said no. Jocks don't play Dungeons and Dragons."

"I could," Steve says, offended. He squints at the name tag sticker slapped diagonally across the way too big jean vest this guy's wearing. E-d-d-i-e. Eddie.

"Have you ever played?"

"Well... no, but-"

"No buts. Mitch let a jock join last year and that was a nightmare. He could barely read the rule book. And with how you were squinting down at the flier, and then my name tag, you're not going to be much better."

Jokes on Eddie, Steve's already read the rule book. Even if it was slowly. "I can read just fine."

"Can you math, then? What's eight plus seven?"

"What?"

"Simple addition. Eight plus seven. What is it?"

Steve knows simple addition. This is fine. It doesn't matter than he's been put on the spot, and that math is hard for the same reason as reading. He can do this. His hand twitches with wanting to pull it up and use it to keep track. He's faster at math when he can do that, but this jerk is mean mugging him and he just knows if he moves his hand, this guy will mock him the rest of the school year.

Eight plus seven. Ok. Make it easier, get to ten. It takes adding two to the eight to get ten. Ok. Take that two away from the seven now. That makes... five! Ok. Ten plus five is-

"Dude, it's fifteen," Eddie snaps.

"I knew that!"

Scoff. "Right. How about seventeen plus six."

Steve can feel his face turning red with embarrassment but he's not going to let this jackass be right. Round up. It takes three to get seventeen to twenty, so take three away from the six-

"23. Point proven. Go. Away. Go play your jock games and leave me- us alone."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, or maybe plead, that he can do this, and that, more importantly, he wants to do this, but laughter cuts through the air and for the first time, Steve notices the audience that has gathered. Three people are laughing at him, and his inability to do mental math, and it makes Steve snap his jaw shut and swallow.

"Mental math isn't that hard, Steve," one of them, Brant, says, as he elbows the guy next to him.

"Thank you!" Eddie says, "that's what I'm saying."

"Whatever, man, like I'd want to play make believe at this age anyway," Steve mutters and rushes away.

If, two weeks later, Steve watches Kyle trip who he now knows is Eddie 'The Freak' Munson in the bathroom, and drag him into a stall for a swirly, well, no he didn't. He briefly thinks of saying something to stop Kyle, but shoves the words down and instead turns on heel and leaves that bathroom just as the sound of flushing and Eddie yelling start. The thick bathroom door does a good job of muffling the noise and if Steve feels any guilt about that, he shoves that down, too.

Besides, Kyle's the captain of the basketball team and if Steve wants a chance to be on that team, he can't stay anything. It's a well-known fact that Steve likes sports, after all. He's going to stick to that. Screw Eddie Munson and his Dungeons and Dragons club.

Steve will get to play Dungeons and Dragons with Christopher next summer.

Except, halfway through the school year, Steve and his parents quickly board a plane bound for Washington. Turns out being as perfect as Christopher was is hard. Overwhelming.

They arrive the day before the funeral, and fly out right after it. Steve barely has time to mourn before they're shuffling him back to school that Monday.

Christopher died, and with him, so does Steve's desire to be just like him. He quits the football team. He keeps basketball because he does like it, even without Christopher's influence. He can't bring himself to get rid of the Dungeons and Dragons books, but he can't look at them, either. They end up in the downstairs hall closet, forgotten on the shelf.

So, years later, after rising to the top of the food chain (no one was ever going to embarrass him like Eddie Munson had again) and then falling to the bottom (who cares about high school popularity when interdimensional monsters exist) and of course, the years of fighting against said interdimensional monsters before ending it all in spring of '86, Steve finds himself, unwillingly, agreeing to host Hellfire since the school banned the club following the events of spring break.

Damn Dustin Henderson. Steve usually has the backbone to say no but Dustin had to play up 'getting a chance to finally just be kids' and fuck, how was Steve going to say no to that? Despite how quickly his own desire to be a freshman playing Dungeons and Dragon had been squashed, he can't be the one to ruin this for them.

"Thanks for hosting, man," Eddie says when Steve lets him in. He's an hour early but had asked if that was okay. Apparently the dungeon master has a lot of prep to do? Not that Steve would know.

"Sure," Steve says, dismissively, because while Eddie and he went through hell together, and Steve carried his sorry ass out of the Upside Down, Steve can't quite let his guard down around him.

It's funny. In the Upside Down, Eddie had made a point to tell him he's changed, is a 'good dude' now. So, what's funny is how much Eddie is exactly the same person he was five years ago. He was an ass to Steve five years ago, and as far as Steve is concerned, was also an ass to Lucas for wanting to play basketball just this year.

He swears to God, if he hears one negative thing about Lucas tonight, he's punching Eddie unconscious, no matter what the rest of Hellfire will do or say about it.

Eddie's been in his dining room for maybe five minutes before he finds Steve in the living room. Steve's got a movie playing but he couldn't tell you which one. He's not really watching it.

"Do you got a table cloth for that big table? Jeff's got a set of metal dice and I'd feel like a real ass if we scratched it on accident."

Steve takes a deep breath before answering. He hates that Eddie is considerate like this, has been since spring break if Steve's being honest, but he doesn't want to see Eddie's good qualities. So, he waves in the direction of the closet. "Yeah. There should be some in the hall closet there. Help yourself."

"Thanks."

He twists on the couch to watch Eddie cross the room to the closet door, listens as the door creaks opens, hears the quiet, pleased noise Eddie lets out when his eyes land on the stack of table clothes. Steve continues to watch as Eddie just grabs the whole stack and yanks them off the top shelf.

Which means his watching as the stack of non-fabric objects, which must have been half atop the table clothes, also tumble out of the closet, bouncing off various parts of Eddie. It's a bunch of miscellaneous items. However, Steve realizes with horror, the book that bounces off Eddie's head is his copy of the Monster Manual. Eddie has stepped back in surprise (and possibly pain), so the Dungeon Master Guide and the Players Handbook bounce off his torso and leg before landing on the ground.

"Fuck," Eddie curses, before he stares down at what just assaulted him. Steve just stares at Eddie, watching as he slowly comes to comprehend what he's seeing. He watches as Eddie bends down and grabs the Player Handbook, the last thing to fall, from a top the pile. "What the-"

Steve stands, suddenly defensive, but doesn't actually say anything or move closer. He just watches as Eddie examines the book, flipping it from front to back in his hand like the title will change if he does that enough times.

Then, Eddie turns to him, bewildered. "Present for one of the kids? Thought they all had their own copies."

"No."

Eddie flips the book open. Reads the words written in there so many years ago. "Who's Christopher? Wait. 1981? You were playing D&D in 1981?"

"None of your business, and no," Steve says, now kicking into action, stomping up to Eddie and snatching the book from his hands.

Eddie hold his hands up in defense before his eyes turn mischievous. The same glint in them now that was there when Eddie'd leaned into this space in the RV and called him big boy. "Are you lying to me, Stevie? You've played before, haven't you?"

It makes Steve's blood boil. "No. I haven't played!"

"Alright. You could now, you know," Eddie says. And it's the way he says it, all nonchalant and like he's trying to be coy about it- it tips something over inside Steve. A bottle that held his humiliation and hurt from all those years ago.

"Oh, now I'm good enough for D&D? Now I can join? Aren't I too much of a jock for you!?"

"Whoa, what's with the hostility-"

"What's eight plus seven, Eddie!?" Steve snaps. His memory might be shit these days, with all the concussions, but the unfortunate part about Steve is that he always seems to remember the bad. And he remembers Freshman First Day like yesterday. "No? How about seventeen plus six? Come on, mental math isn't hard. Or don't you remember? I'm just a stupid jock too slow on the uptake, or no, what was it you said? It'll be a nightmare to play with me, 'cause I might be barely able to read the rules?"

He watches as Eddie's face morphs from confusion, to understanding and horror. "Holy shit, Steve. That was you- you wanted to join Hellfire-"

"Yeah, and you made it pretty fuckin' clear I didn't belong in it."

"I'm sorry man. I shouldn't have- if I'd known you, I never would have-"

"That's the problem, Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving the book in front of him. "You didn't know me. You looked at me and decided for me that I was going to be a jock and nothing else and then humiliated me in front of other people! You didn't even bother to try to know me. I spent three weeks reading this stupid book cover to cover because I knew I was shit at reading and I still wanted to try anyway."

He sees Eddie puffing up in anger. "Well, I wasn't exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even!"

"Yeah, because I was a dumb, hurt kid who decided that it was better to hurt than be hurt. As if you weren't exactly the same that day, lashing out at me first, at my reading ability, and mocking me for not being quick at math. Fuck you, Munson!" Steve walks away, not hearing anything Eddie shouts after him as he sprints up the stairs and shuts himself in his room.

Steve knows he was a dick in high school, and it's not Eddie's fault he was a dick. Steve made choices he's not proud of and no one forced those choice on him. But Eddie doesn't get to throw that back in his face. Not when Eddie made him feel humiliated and stupid on the first goddamn day of high school, long before Steve became mean himself.

#pre-steddie #my fic #prompt #sophomore eddie is a jerk #but only because he thinks steves gonna be a jerk first so hes gotta beat him to it #also steves very mean to eddie in his thoughts but its only his thoughts #tw: minor character death #its an oc tho #tw: suicide implied but not stated

[strawberryspence]

They both have different stories when asked, "When did you first meet?"

Steve says it was in school, along the hallways with freshman Steve Harrington and sophomore Eddie Munson locking eyes for the first time. Eddie says it was in a party, drinking beer and selling drugs, a transaction.

Annalyn Harrington knows the truth. The truth that way before monsters, way before creatures from games came true, way before the end of the world, way before everything, that Eddie and Steve have already met.

Annalyn remembers it, so vividly at the back of her mind. She babysits her nephew— her younger sister, Amanda's son— so often. Steve is an angel, so innocent and kind. Annalyn often questions as to how Richard Harrington could've ever had a son so pure and good.

She remembers that day. It was a bright spring day, with fresh daisies growing on the fields and birds chirping in excitement.

Annalyn takes Steve out of his school a few hours early, takes him to eat at his favorite diner. When Steve begs for her to take him to the park, telling her he really wants to play and how could she say no to those brown eyes?

It's relatively empty when they arrive at the park. It's only after lunch and the kids are still in class. But there's one kid playing in the swings, his hair is curly at the ends, wearing a tattered jacket as he kicks the sands. His guardian— a man sitting on the only bench— is watching him closely. He's frowning, deep in thought.

"Go play. Be nice." Annalyn reminds Steve, more as a habit rather than a reminder. She knows Steve will be kind, it's engraved in his soul.

Annalyn sits beside the man, quietly watching as they hear Steve introduce himself to the kid.

"Hello! I am Steve!" She hears him say, waving slightly at the kid.

The kid looks at him, blinks for a few seconds before he says his name. They chatter for a few more minutes, Steve asks if he wants to be pushed and the boy says yes.

Annalyn turns to the man, "Is that your son?"

The man turns to her, "I— Yes— No— It's complicated." He sighs, gritting his teeth so hard Annalyn can see his jaw clenching, "He's my nephew. I just got custody of him today."

"Oh." Annalyn breathes out, looking back at the kid who's now pushing Steve instead. Both laughing and giggling.

"I don't know what I am doing. I can barely take care of myself, let alone a child." The man continues, clearly frustrated and scared, "But he's never got a good home and I want to give that to him."

Annalyn smiles, "Just the fact that you want to give him a good home is telling me that you'll be just fine. Don't overthink it, life's too short for that."

The man blinks at her, and it's almost the same as the look the small boy gave to Steve, "Thank you." He says, finally smiling and looking back at the kids, running around and playing tag with each other.

"Steve's your boy?" He asks.

Annalyn smiles, "Yeah, he's my boy. Not my son, just my nephew. But I love him like he's mine."

The man softens, nodding along like he completely understands— which he does.

They spend half of the afternoon there. Just playing, rolling around the grass, swinging each other in the swings. Just before the sun sets, Annalyn asks Steve to say goodbye to the boy.

There's daisies tucked in his hair like flower crowns, and she sees the other boy, with a flower tucked behind his ear. They're whispering, too intimate for a simple goodbye.

Steve waves at the boy, head sticking out of the car, waving until they can barely see the other boy anymore and until they turn the block.

When Steve sits, he turns to her and with his big brown eyes blown wide, with his whole heart in his hands and says, "I am going to marry that boy."

And Annalyn steps on the break, turns to the side of the road and has to turn to her nephew and look at him— really, look at him. Steve smiles at her, toothy and all gummy, determination bleeding in his eyes. The flowers the boy Steve just said he's going to marry still hanging from his hair.

She can't help but smile, moving closer to kiss his temple.

"Alright, Mr. Lover." Steve giggles, and she wants to hear it for the rest of her life, want to shield him from all the horrors of this world.

"Listen to me, okay?" Steve nods, "There's nothing wrong with wanting to marry a boy. But you have to promise me something, Steve? Okay?"

He nods, earnest, "It needs to be our little secret for now, okay? You have to promise me."

Steve's face droop into sadness, "Why?"

Annalyn's heart breaks into pieces, "Because people don't like it when a boy wants to marry another boy. There's nothing wrong with it, but they will hurt you and they will hurt that boy."

"They can't hurt him!" Steve protests.

"I know, honey. That's why we have to keep it a secret for now."

"Okay," Steve nods, stoic and strong, "I'll protect him. I won't tell anyone. Promise."

Annalyn smiles, "Good job, Steve. I am proud of you."

They drive back home, have dinner and build forts in the spacious Harrington living room.

She remembers that day. The day Steve wanted to marry that boy. The daisies tucked in his hair. The other little boy beaming so brightly, like it's always been meant to be. The results of the tests. The cancer coming back. The chemo is not working. The time she has left. But most of all, she remembers Steve.

Annalyn dies six months after that exact day.

It's years and years later when the story is brought back up. On one random morning when Steve visits her grave, with a bunch of tulips in his hands. Steve tells the story of the boy with the daisies to his best friend, Robin, as they sit side by side by her grave. Steve tells her, that he never saw the boy again.

Annalyn laughs as she listens.

She laughs, as another boy comes out of no where, picnic basket in hands, and daisies in the other.

"Eddie! You're late!" Steve exclaims, making the other boy roll his eyes. The boy looks different now, with longer hair, a look in his eyes that is way beyond his age. But he's happier, older.

"I am sorry, Stevie. But I picked you this."

They lay the blanket, and eat with her, just like old times, just with new friends. Annalyn wishes she could say hello, and formally meet his friends. The friends that sticked with Steve even in life or death situations.

Steve cleans her grave, "Auntie, we're here for a reason. I have some news."

Annalyn raises her eyebrows, "Eddie and I— We're engaged."

"I hope to God you don't haunt me. I just want your approval." Eddie says, making Steve laugh. It's the same sound as when he was a kid, and only Eddie (and his found family) can elicit it from him nowadays.

"Anyway, it's not legal or anything. But we're doing it with family, you know?" Steve plays with the ring in his hand, just a simple golden band, "I wish you were here."

Annalyn wants to tell him that she is, that she's always here, "I wanted you to walk me down the aisle. I want you to meet Eddie."

They stay for a few more minutes, before they finally start packing up and cleaning.

Just before they leave, Steve whispers to her grave, "Come to my wedding, okay? Move a few glasses. Maybe say hi to El or something. Just be there, please?"

Annalyn laughs, and nods, and promises that she'll be there. She watches as Steve and Eddie, hands intertwined, walk together as Robin starts the car.

Steve turns one last time, waves at her grave, his engagement ring catching sunlight and beaming. There's daisies tucked in his back pocket, like a reminder, that everything has been set from the moment we were born.

If there's one thing about Steve, he's a stubborn, determined kid.

Annalyn smirks, "Son of a bitch, Steve really is marrying the daisy boy."

→ Wayne's POV

#what is my obsession with flowers #damn #steddie rants #dae writes #daeheadcanons #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie #steddie headcanons #steddie ficlet #steddie fics #steddie headcanon #steddie fanfic #tw illness #tw cancer #tw minor character death

[radio-writes]

For the event, would something like this work?

"You won

I didn't deserve any of this

This will be the last time you lie to me"

But There's Something Latching Onto My Throat

300 Followers Event

Warnings: Cannibalism, minor character deaths, blood, manipulation

Tags: Alastor x reader, gn reader, relationship can be read in any way

MDNI

"Oh don't you look so cute down there, my dear. Green really is your color." It was hard not to miss the mockery in Alastor's tone as he looked down at you from the bed.

You kept your head down, hands balled into fists as you glared at the glowing green chains cuffed around your wrists.

"You really ought to know your limits, dear. And I say this for your sake, of course!" The demon continued, a red claw coming down to play with the chain. "I mean, did you really think you had a chance in the first place? You really are so cute, I could almost eat you." He laughed at his own sick joke.

Your gaze followed the chain as it swayed lightly; from the cuffs around your wrists, to the bedpost it was tied to, to the red finger it wrapped around.

You finally meet Alastor's gaze, his smile calm and mocking as he lied on the bed, feet kicking childishly in air. You could feel your blood boiling as you tried to hold your tongue.

"But no, I couldn't possibly do that to you, my dear." He didn't really seem to care that you just sat there glaring at him from the floor. "Besides, I'm still quite full, you know, having just eaten your little friends and all."

Your jaw clenched, nails digging into your palms as you tried to hold yourself back. You tried hard not to think about them. How they heard you were still alive, how they spent months scheming to try to help you escape.

How they struggled to their last breaths as this horrid man dropped them into his mouth.

"Oh, their screams of terror made such perfect tunes to accompany my meal." Alastor sighed contently. "And don't get me started, on how crunchy their bones were. Except for that heavier fellow, no, he was rather chewy—"

"Enough!"

The sound of your own voice surprised even you.

Your body had moved almost on it's own. You had stood up, yanking at your wrists. The chain pulled Alastor forward by the link he played with. 

"You won, Alastor. I get it." You hissed at him, glaring down at the demon that held you captive with as much fury as you could muster.

Alastor's eyes were wide for a moment, before he started laughing just a second later. He moved to sit up, "Now, I don't see what you're so angry about. You're the one that put your friends on the line, not me."

"The bet was if I lost I'd never see them again! Not that you would—" You tried to fight back the bile that rose to your throat, "eat them!" 

Alastor rolled his eyes as if he found your outburst to be far too overdramatic. "You weren't specific enough, that isn't my fault, my dear."

"You're sick." You snapped at him.

"And you're being unfair, my darling." Alastor said.

"I haven't ever done anything unprompted. You're the one that came to me to sell your soul. You're the one that snuck out. You're the one that insisted we make a bet, instead of just accepting your punishment." Each time he blamed you he gave the chain he held a harsh tug. "And you're the one that placed your friends' lives as prizes." 

Alastor remained sat on the plush bed, seemingly as relaxed as ever as he continued to play with the chains in his hands. "If anything, I have been more than fair to you, my dear."

You were far too close to him than you would have ever liked to be. At this distance, you couldn't even try to hide the tears that stung in your eyes as he spoke. You weren't sure anymore if it was from anger, indignation, or just the sheer overwhelming grief over all you've lost to this man.

"Fair? You've been fair to me? You sold me out to fucking Valentino, I had no choice but to beg for your protection!" You didn't even care anymore that your voice shook as you spoke.

Alastor waved a hand in your direction, as if physically brushing off your words. "I'm sure you had plenty of other options besides begging me to take your soul, but we can agree to disagree, I suppose."

You almost snarled at him.

"You've locked me up in this god forsaken radio tower for decades!" You yanked back at your hands, standing up straighter as you looked down at him.

"For your protection, of course." Alastor only smiled wider—and it sickened you.

You felt like the room was getting smaller, the air a little thinner.

"You've kept me from everyone I cared about, half the people I knew thought I was dead!" Your voice rose in volume, your heart pounded so loudly you swore you could hear each beat. 

"I thought if I behaved, if I just did what you said, if I just followed you, you'd let me go already! But I- I—" You could feel the hot blood rushing through body, every nerve on edge, every cell singing.

And then it was quiet; you couldn't feel anything at all. 

Your shoulders slump and your eyes fall to the glowing green cuffs that bound your wrists.

"I don't deserve any of this." You said softly. 

A hum cut through the silence, soft static coming back to life.

"You are correct to some degree, my darling. You don't deserve any of this pain, this suffering." Alastor said, bringing your attention back to him.

There he sat, just as he was, unbothered by your shouting.

"You don't deserve scum of the earth pretending to be your friends while they try to lure you back into Valentino's well...office." His fingers playfully danced up the chain he held. He didn't meet your eyes as he grinned down at it.

"What?" You felt just a tiny bit unsteady, his words hadn't fully sunk in yet.

"Oh, you know I'd do anything to protect you, my darling. Plus, it's my half of the bargain after all, to keep you safe and away from that stupid moth's hands." Alastor met your unsure eyes. He finally stood up, the chain clinking in his grip as he closed the space between you.

"When I heard that a group of lowly sinners planned to con my dear partner into a new contract, I didn't worry much." He leaned down closer to your height so your dazed watery eyes can see him more clearly.

"After all, I thought better of you. You had to be smart enough not to fall for something so dull. Something so poorly planned." 

He slowly walked behind you, circling around you in a familiar way that almost made you want to shrink away and hide.

"But no, I suppose that was a mistake on my part. I hadn't taken into account how desperate you had gotten for company. You'd even cling onto whores who called you every insult under Hell's hot sun."

You see your friends, smiles wide, relieved, when they first saw you again. The rumors were true, you were alive. They could free you.

"They'd never." Your voice spoke out on its own, but it was soft. So soft that you doubted Alastor even heard it.

"Oh, what was it they called you? A bimbo, a slut, a whore?" He counted off on his fingers as he went on. "I'm pretty sure they said something about you being just an entertaining hole at some point—"

We'll get you out of there. We'll keep you safe.

"They would never say any of that." Your voice was louder now, just a little bit surer.

He finally stopped walking when he was in front of you again. He brought his hand up, knuckles gently caressing your cheek, barely grazing your skin.

The touch almost snapped you back to life. His soft touches, almost loving, had never once been genuine.

He was lying.

"Oh, but they did! Believe me, I was as shocked as you were. The vulgarity of it all—"

There was a sound of metal clinking, a struggle, bodies hitting the floor.

"This is will be the last fucking time you lie to me, Alastor."

You glared at him below you, the green chains tangled and wrapped around his neck as his claws gripped at it.

"I will not let you turn me against the few people I cared about. Double dead or not." You yanked your wrists back, causing the chains around Alastor's throat to tighten.

"Why you ungrateful little wretch." Alastor snarled, his eyes had gone black and you stared down defiantly at radio dials.

"Do you really want all of Hell to hear you begging for mercy?" 

Static prickled against your skin.

The room was steadily growing darker, shadows creeping around you as you kept the demon pinned down on the floor. His antlers grew as he smiled wickedly up at you.

"Try it." You dared him, unwavering.

"And I will use every last breath to tell everyone in Hell about that pretty little collar around your neck."

You swore you heard him growl at you, felt his chest vibrating beneath your body.

You pulled at your restraints again. Alastor's claws scratched at his own skin as he grasped at the glowing metal, trying to keep it from crushing his throat.

You matched his stupid grin with one of your own. 

Sure, you absolutely might die tonight. But seeing the great Radio Demon brought down to the floor, his own leash choking him, was just the perfect parting gift.

You leaned down closer, the tip of your nose brushing against his as his warm breath washed over your skin.

"Green, is absolutely your color too, Al."

#tw: cannibalism #tw: minor character deaths #follower event #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #gn!reader #vien writes #Alastor being an absolute glutton is another fave gender of mine #of course his bougie ass is a foodie of course it is

[ladykailitha]

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 7

And now you see why I waited until I had this part written before posting the last one? That was one hell of a cliffhanger. Also everyone gets a dig at Al in this. It's family bonding event. But Steve has the best burn I think.

Just a heads up, Steve talks about being abused...heads up if that's a trigger for you.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

***

Steve placed his hand on Eddie’s back the second he felt his friend stiffen next to him.

“Deep breath, Eds,” he murmured. “There is nothing he can say to you that I will let him get away with, okay? Deep breath. Let me and Wayne handle this.”

Eddie let out a deep breath. “Just careful, Stevie. He’s been known to charm snakes out of their skin.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. So that’s the kind of man he was. He knew that kind of man intimately. His own father was like that. He knew what to watch for now that he had been forewarned.

He plastered a solemn expression on his face, that to everyone who didn’t know him well enough would think sincere, but to Eddie and Wayne, they could see the hard set line of his jaw as he kept one eye on Al and the other on the proceedings.

The funeral wrapped up and everyone lined up to throw dirt on the now lowered coffin. Al tried to get directly behind Eddie, but Steve seamlessly inserted himself between them.

Al bristled but the portly man next to him coughed and he was forced to back down.

Finally the family was all that remained as they all walked back to the church.

The portly man stuck to Al like glue and Steve felt a sudden warmth for the boys in blue at that moment. Because he was pretty sure that even though Al Munson had been granted a furlough, someone was paying to keep that man on a short leash.

The family and a small handful of friends arranged themselves on the pews and waited.

It wasn’t too long until a funny little man with thick bottled glasses came hurrying in.

“I’m sorry Mrs Nelson,” he twittered to Penny. “I had a hard time getting to the church.”

Penny just nodded. “It’s all right Mr Mulbury, you’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He walked up the pulpit and put his briefcase on it. He pulled out a piece of paper of it and then walked back around the pulpit, leaving the briefcase where it was.

“Ehhm,” Mr Mulbury coughed. “The last will and testament of Gina Munson goes as follows...”

He read it out, people getting little trinkets and things that were meaningful to them, instructions on what to do with her clothes and other things that wouldn’t be given to friends or family.

And then it came time to divide up her meager savings. “My savings of five thousand dollars will be divided three ways. To Penny, you get a thousand to repair that lovely house of yours. I know you didn’t want anything, but use it for your family, dearest girl. Love you all the best.”

Penny laughed a watery little chuckle. She shook her head fondly.

“To Wayne, you get two thousand dollars to finally get that motor home you always wanted. When the time is right, retire and see the world like you always dreamed of. See the stars, my beautiful boy. You deserve stars.”

Wayne teared up, coming down in rivers down his face. Both Steve and Eddie hugged him tight.

“To Allen, who had squandered every good thing he every had, his loving wife, his devoted son, his talents and his good sense, you get nothing. You deserve nothing. If you are here to hear this, I hope it is because the state of Texas deemed it so, and not because you have been set loose again on the world.”

There was a gasp from those gathered and they descended into harsh whispers as they wondered aloud who got the remaining two thousand dollars.

Mr Mulbury cleared his throat. “Instead the remaining two thousand will be given to your son, Edward. Through your actions that boy has suffered so, and because of your actions he will receive not only the money, but all my love as well. Live your dreams, Eddie. Be that star for your uncle. Shine brighter then even that of Polaris. Butterfly kisses into the sunset, darling boy.”

Now Eddie was crying too. Two thousand wouldn’t get him far, but it could get him started. He raised a shaking hand to his quivering lips. Steve grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it.

Eddie looked over and Steve mouthed, “you deserve it.”

He nodded back.

Finally there were some other little things to be wrapped up in the will and then it was all over.

Everyone stood and Steve looked over at Al for the first time since they entered the church. The man had a smile plastered on his face that sent chills down Steve’s spine. Whenever his father wore that expression it meant trouble for someone, usually Steve.

They mingled for a bit, waiting until Penny’s friend came back to tell her that dinner was ready for them. Penny, Wayne, Steve, and Eddie all clustered together while everyone else gathered in other groups.

People were coming up and telling Eddie how much he deserved the money and how much his grandmother loved him. It made Steve puff out his chest in pride.

Finally Al came over and all four of them stiffened.

“Eddie, my boy!” Al greeted warmly. “You’ve grown so much since I last saw you. You’re spitting image of your old man.” He lifted a handcuffed hand with a jaunty little wave. “I’d hug ya, but I’m on a bit of a leash.”

Penny bristled. “I paid good money for that leash, I’m glad to see it working.”

The men turned to her in shock.

“Did you know,” she said through gritted teeth, “that the state of Texas was going to let him come to the funeral without a guard to make sure he didn’t escape? And that you actually have to pay for that service?”

Al grinned. “Ah...Penny-elle-oh-pee, you shouldn’t have.” His voice dropped low and menacing. “You really shouldn’t have.”

The portly man nudged him with his elbow. Al straightened up, his charming mask firmly in place.

Wayne shook his head. “Al, Al, Al...you never did know when to fold and when to call.”

Al turned to his brother for the first time. “Big brother always watching out for everyone and never getting ahead. How much they pay you at that workhouse? You know the one, the one that took Dad’s life?”

Wayne grinned. “Pretty good considering we union’ed up about five years ago. Which would have known if you actually read any of the letters I sent you. Just like you would have known about what Eddie looks like now...”

Steve hurried to cover his snort, but Al whipped his head his direction.

“And who the hell are you?”

Steve eyed him with a raised eyebrow. “Steve Harrington, my mother is Sophia Kincade, of the Lexington Kincades and a good friend of your son’s.”

Al turned to Penny. “Why he is here with family?”

Wayne bristled. “This is the boy that saved your son during that major earthquake we had earlier this year. Another thing you’d know if you’d read my damn letters. He deserves to be here just as much as you if not more so.”

Just then Penny’s friend came in and told them that dinner was ready for the family.

Al ran his tongue over his teeth and grinned. “Hey, Bernie, how much time have we got?”

The portly man looked at his watch. “We’ve got about an hour before we have to leave to catch our flight.”

Penny furrowed her brow but knew she couldn’t deny him dinner as much as it grated.

The friends that had been at the reading made their goodbyes and soon everyone else was filing into cars.

Penny and her family in her blue Chevy, Steve, Eddie and Wayne in his BMW, and Al and Bernie in an unmarked Crown Vic.

They get to the house and the scents of a home cooked meal waft from the open front door.

They all go sit down at the table, Danny and Wayne pulling out two more chairs for their unwelcomed guests.

Steve was disappointed to see that not only was there enough food to feed Al and Bernie, but that there was enough food to feed a fucking army.

Penny’s friend’s name is Lucy and her daughter Beth is one of Lauren’s friends, too. They’re both blonde with bright blue eyes and curvy bodies.

They are bustling around the table making sure everyone has enough food.

About half way through dinner Al speaks up. “So you still playing that guitar of yours, Ed?”

Eddie stiffened. “I’ve got a red NJ Warlock that I play now.”

“Ooh...fancy,” Al whistled. “You steal it?”

Lauren and Wayne bristled, but Eddie scoffed. “No, but I did steal an RV once while on the run wanted for murder, but they were a bunch of pricks anyway.”

Wayne and Steve stifled a laugh while the rest of the family looked as though they weren’t sure if he was telling the truth or not.

“Cleared of all charges,” Steve added with a sly smile. “Court ruled it extenuating circumstances.”

It was Eddie’s turn to hide his smile in his napkin.

Al’s mood darkened. He didn’t like being out of the inside joke. “You gonna do anything with the talent I gave ya, teaching you how to play on that beat up ‘ole six string?”

This time Eddie rankled. How dare AL imply that he had anything to do with his ability to play guitar? As if the real reason wasn’t sitting right there at the table.

Steve put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, calming him.

“Was that before or after you taught him how to hotwire a car?” he asked, faux innocence.

Al sputtered.

“See, I always got the impression,” Steve continued, “that instead of teaching Eddie how to play guitar or throw a ball you were too busy trying to make sure your son followed in your footsteps straight into the penitentiary.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide with barely contained glee.

“While Wayne on the other hand,” he said scratching his temple, “was working hard to put on the table, get Eddie through school, and give him the best life he could given the hand you dealt both of them. Now, I’m just some outsider, but I know what it’s like to have a shit dad.”

The room was stock still. Steve didn’t think that they were even breathing at this point, but he pressed on.

“Didn’t fit into the box he built? He hit me. Didn’t get captain my sophomore year, something that had never been done ever? He hit me. Didn’t date the right girl? He hit me. Ditched my asshole friends? He hit me. Now, I don’t know if you’re cut from the same cloth or not. I don’t give a fuck. But you tell another lie like that one to these honest folk, and Officer Bernie here will be taking you back to Texas in a body bag.”

Al jumped to his feet, but before he could even twitch Steve’s direction Bernie whipped out a taser and zapped him with it. Soon he was doing a different kind of twitching.

On the floor.

Bernie began clapping and soon everyone else was too.

Steve blushed. “To think I could have been like that asshole if it wasn’t for getting some sense knocked into me by people who actually gave a damn. I’m sorry he ruined dinner.”

Penny scoffed. “Dinner isn’t ruined. Wayne, Danny please help the kind officer take out the trash.”

Officer Bernie chuckled. “Much appreciated, ma’am.”

Wayne and Danny stood up and helped him take Al back into the Crown Vic.

Wayne went through and made sure that Al didn’t steal anything or had anything that might be a danger to the good officer. He never had trusted Al, even as kids and he sure the hell wasn’t going to start now.

Soon the officer was on his way and the family sat down to eat the dinner that was so wonderfully prepared in peace. Like Gina had always intended.

Wayne smiled at Steve. He was proud of how he had stood up to Al for his boy.

****

Pt 8|Pt 9|Pt 10|Pt 11|Pt 12

Tag list: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @vecnuthy @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @gutterflower77 @genderless-spoon @hel-spawn @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @mamafaithful @yikes-a-bee @dragonmama76 @flaming-reauxster

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #minor character death #dealing with grief #tw: mentions of abuse

[ninjasmudge]

the crowd was quiet while swk carried macaque to the medical tent afterwards, this was supposed to be a no-kill match, but it ended up as the first glimpse of a god that most people got. it was the first time swk let everyone know that he was following the rules becasue he chose to, and was more than capable of cracking the magic contract that bound him here in order to break the rules of the game

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #arena au #the arena did not like that realisation but they DID find out that swk has a pretty big weakness too #luckly for them they own the weakness as well :) #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: injury #tw: minor character death #tw: death #if i need more just lmk #sun wukong #six eared macaque #lmk macaque #lmk sun wukong #shadowpeach #mk #mk art #lmk #my art

[raccoonsrummagerostrum]

Comforting Chris Redfield After a Mission

Chris Redfield x GN! Reader

Word count: 1075

Warnings: reverse comfort, shower, mentions of injury, infection, and bugs. Cuddles, food, mentions of first aid, mention of minor character death, angst, slight ptsd for Chris

Summary: Whenever Chris comes home after a mission he has a checklist that the two of you follow

A/N: I’m so excited to start posting about Chris! I am so excited for Death Island!

You and Chris always had certain rituals for when he would leave for, and return from missions. When he left it was all about you. He would spend the few days before leaving taking you out on dates, pampering you, and running errands. As well he would pick up chores and odd jobs around the house in preparation for you taking over all of it when he was gone. He didn't always have prior warning to when he would be leaving, but he always spent whatever warning time he did have with you. When he returned, that time was for him.

The transition back to civilian life was always hard for him, it had been his entire career. Even back when he was in the air force coming back home was often more stressful than active service, but you made it easier. Much easier. Whenever possible, Chris would call you ahead of time to let you know that he was on his way. Sometimes you had days notice, other times you had just a few hours. However much time you had you always made sure that the house was clean, and usually had a meal prepared. To be honest Chris didn't really care either way about the state of the house, or the presence of a home cooked meal, but he did appreciate it greatly. It helped to free up space in his mind so that he could focus on comfort.

Once Chris was in the door you had a checklist. This was extremely important to help him with the transition. For him it was like a reset for his body and mind. That checklist went as thus:

1. A hug. Extremely important. He needed to know that you were there, that this was real, and that he was back home.

2. Food. If there is one state in which Chris can not function properly, it's hunger. Even though cold, wet, and injured he could still push through and focus on the task at hand, but if he was hungry then nothing else was going to happen until he got some food. Sometimes he would have had something on the way, but if not then you always had something ready. Eating with you also helped him ease back into a domestic mindset.

3. Shower. More than likely he had gone the entire mission without a proper scrub. There might have been running water and a bar of soap, but he had more than likely been far from the creature comforts of a hot shower, with a messaging nozzle, and moisturizing body wash with a good scrub from a luffa.

4. Body check. More often than not, you would join him in the shower for the body check, where you would meticulously search his entire body for anything. Cuts, scrapes, bruises, injuries, ticks, mites, lice, and or infections. Anything that needed to be addressed. Usually he would have been looked over by some kind of medic before he came home, so any major issues would have already been taken care of. But this was much more thorough. You were the only person he would ever let get this close. And the fact that you trailed little kisses around his body didn't hurt.

5. First aid. You had learned some first aid specifically for this. You learned to treat all sorts of minor issues. Dressing and redressing wounds, removing ticks and mites, treating infections, and you would dutifully care for any issue that arose from the body check.

6. Cuddles. It didn't matter if he came home in the middle of the day, or the middle of the night, this man is gonna need cuddles. Curl up on the couch or in bed, it doesn't matter. Depending on how the mission went and how Chris was feeling the cuddle position would change. If he was feeling more insecure and scared he would be the big spoon and hold you close, protecting you. If he was feeling more sad, and helpless he would lay on top of you, allowing you to rub his back and play with his hair. Cuddling was usually done in silence as he preferred to focus his attention on you and your breathing, but he wouldn't complain if you wanted to play some music or watch TV. The more physical contact the better.

7. Don't talk about work. During the transition back into civilian life, Chris would be very sensitive. He would be very quiet, hypervigilant, and skittish. It wasn't a good idea to talk about his mission during this time. So you two had agreed that you would wait one full day before talking about it. And you two had agreed that one full day was one wake up to the next. Which sometimes resulted in more than 24 hours before talking about his mission, but that was fine with the both of you. Even after one full day you never pressured him to talk if he didn't want to

8. Talk about work. This last step was not part of the original list. In Fact when the two of you first started doing this he hated talking about work. He would avoid talking about it at all cost, and even when he did he only gave sparse details. But as Chris has gotten older he's found that talking about work can actually be really cathartic. He now finds it important to talk to you about what happened during his time away. The good and the bad. He's gotten more emotional over the years as well. At first he tried to stop it, but you let him know that it's ok to be upset and angry, it's ok for him to cry and to shake. As he talks, you're there to guide him through his emotions, and then to bring him back to reality when he's done.

With the checklist complete you still keep a close eye on him for the next few days. He might have injuries that need to be treated, and emotional scars that need attention. You're always there helping him along his way. Eventually he settles back into normal life, and the two of you cohabitate once again.

This checklist has helped not just him but you as well many, many times. Especially after Jill's supposed death, her return, and Piers' death. But the list was put to the ultimate test after Chris returned from Romania.

To be continued…

#writing #fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #chris redfield #chris redfeild x reader #x reader #comfort #reverse comfort #tw minor injury #tw minor character death #tw first aid #tw shower #tw mugs #tw ptsd #ptsd

[spanishsenpai]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 2

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Here you go Dying Light 2 enjoyers. Have some more Aitor hurt juice. It hasn't come up yet but I've decided Aitor was meant to be shorter than everyone else. Dying Light Jesus told me it had to be this way.

A kick to the gut couldn't kill Aitor so Waltz decides maybe he has further potential.

Read it on AO3 if you'd rather! :D

“Die scum!” Aitor yelled, lunging for Waltz with a knife clenched in each fist. He only managed to get in one swipe before Waltz’s knee collided with his stomach, just under his body armor, with the force of a sledge hammer. The wind was knocked out of him, rendering him limp long enough for Waltz to grab the back of his vest, spinning him around and tossing him. He choked out a grunt as he collided with something, likely Aiden if the yelp he heard was related. 

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. Faintly he processed that he was on something that was squirming underneath him and Waltz was nearby. If his body didn’t feel like it was rebooting, he would’ve had the forethought to roll off the person to give them a fighting chance.

Aiden shouting brought him back. He let out a desperate gasp as his diaphragm suddenly remembered how to work, sucking in the air he’d been starved of the past few minutes. 

As he gasped and coughed, a sickening thwack jolted him from his stupor. Boots appeared in front of his face. A raspy snarl escaped Aitor’s throat as Waltz snatched his hair to pull him up to his face. 

“Stubborn aren’t you? Just won’t die like the rest of these dogs,” Waltz practically growled, kneeling in front of him. 

Aitor’s eyes widened in rage. His shaky legs scrambled under him and around Aiden’s limp form as he aimed a punch at Waltz’s face. “Shut your fucking mou- !”

His fist was grabbed faster than he could process and then squeezed until Aitor was on the verge of screaming. He tried to jerk back as Waltz let go of his hair but the man’s grip strength was unrelenting. He could feel the bones in his hand creaking from the pressure and feared they would shatter if Waltz didn’t let go.

“Too stubborn to die. Too stupid to live. Maybe you weren’t cut out for that promotion after all.” Waltz shoved him back, tossing him backwards on the other side of Aiden’s unconscious body. “Oh well. Mistakes happen. I’ve got what I came for either way.”

His chest ached too fiercely to react quick enough as Waltz stepped over to where he’d fallen and grabbed the shoulder strap of his body armor. “What to do with you now,” he hummed, tapping some strange device against his chin.

Aitor’s muscles tensed as he prepared to try and attack again. Waltz must have had some super human sense as, the moment Aitor jerked to lunge, Waltz gripped his shoulder strap tighter and threw him into the tunnel wall like Aitor weighed nothing more than a baseball. His back collided with the wall, head bouncing against the concrete, leaving him stunned yet again as he fell to the floor, landing on his stomach with a cry. The back of his head throbbed fiercely in time with his ribs, nausea threatening to make him sick.

“Tsk, tsk,” Waltz taunted as he stalked over. He watched the lieutenant weakly try to get back to his hands and knees as he gasped hard. Waltz kicked out, catching him in his already tender ribs. Aitor cried out, limbs collapsing under him. His body armor might as well have been a thin jacket with all the good it did against Waltz’s attacks. 

“Do you really think there’s anything you can do to me?” he asked, placing a heavy boot on the middle of Aitor’s back. “Do you think there’s anything you could do to stop me from doing what I’m doing?” Waltz chuckled darkly, “I’m far more than your feeble human body will ever be.”

Aitor’s heart was pounding. Waltz had disarmed him so quickly and plowed through his squad like they were nothing more than toddlers.

“You Peacekeepers are nothing more than a nuisance.” Waltz paused, stomping down on Aitor’s back to see if he was still awake. He grinned at the weak gasp he got in response. He could feel the laborious breaths Aitor was taking under the weight of his boot. Before all this apocalypse business, Waltz hadn't been the sociopathic type. Maybe it was the desperation of his goal or maybe it was the Volatile instincts running through him, but these days, causing pain with no end goal was much more appealing than it had ever been.

“... You… You’re a fu-...” Aitor ran out of breath before he could finish. He was dizzy even when he was only laying down. His headache was only getting worse.

“Look at you. Still fighting. It's almost endearing... Hmm, maybe I do have a use for you after all.”

Waltz took his foot off Aitor’s back, not missing the deeper breath the lieutenant took. He tucked the GRE key safely in his coat pocket before bending down and grabbing Aitor by the top and bottom of his vest. With a grunt, more from expected exertion rather than actual effort, he tossed the Peacekeeper over his shoulder. 

Aitor wheezed at the sudden shoulder to his aching ribs. He could taste blood in his mouth and dazedly wondered if he was internally bleeding or had just bitten his tongue. It took a second for him to process that Waltz was walking out of the tunnel with him over his shoulder. His eyes widened as he snarled, attempting to thrash even as his ribs screamed at him. His hands grabbed the back of Waltz’s jacket as he tried to climb over the shoulder and roll to the ground. 

Waltz just sighed at his effort and leaned forward slightly to drop the Peacekeeper on the ground. Aitor groaned in pain as his sore body once again made contact with the rough ground. 

“I should have known you might take extra convincing,” Waltz said, though it didn’t sound like he was speaking to Aitor. He walked out of Aitor’s fuzzy view but returned too fast for Aitor to even think of an escape. His world was ragged breathing and pain until Waltz knelt down next to him again and snatched his wrists in that same steel grip. There was a quiet zip of a zip tie before his hands were dropped. Waltz shuffled to his feet and did the same to his ankles, having to use two zip ties to account for Aitor’s thick boots.

“There we go. That should keep you from doing anything idiotic.”

Aitor was back on his shoulder before he could process the words. Damn his aching head. 

He hissed as they left the tunnel and the bright sun seemed to sear his eyes. He clenched them shut and then immediately regretted that as Waltz jumped. His stomach was in his throat as the jump felt more like a roller coaster. The landing was no better as the shoulder was slammed into his diaphragm, making him jolt and croak out a cry. No human should be able to jump like that. 

He managed to open his eyes and felt sick as he saw the gap Waltz must have just cleared. Even with his eyes fighting between being focused and unfocused, he could tell the gap between the two pieces of broken freeway had to be over 10 meters across.

That was all the time he had to think about it as Waltz leaped again. This time, the landing made Aitor blackout for a few minutes. When he came to, Waltz was sliding down a diagonal wall of solar panels. Aitor picked out the broken freeway in the corner of his eye. The many gaps Waltz must have jumped had made the agony in his ribs all the worse. 

Fuck, it hurt.

“I’m at the car factory,” he heard Waltz say though it sounded far away. Aitor made a half hearted attempt to squirm but it felt like even tensing his muscles took his breath away.

Waltz jumped and Aitor returned to unawareness.

The second time he woke up he was in a bare concrete room. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to remember how he’d gotten here. 

“Fuck,” he cursed quietly as the memories came rushing back as well as his headache.

His wrists were still zip tied together. A quick tug of his legs showed the same with them. Carefully pressing his shoulder blades back told him he was on a thin mattress. Probably not new considering the smell of it. His brow furrowed. He was going to have to sit up to learn anything else, such as if that door across from him was unlocked. 

A sharp exhale left his nose that turned to a muffled scream as he grit his teeth. Getting up involved propping himself up on one elbow and turning partially on his side. He had to take a break when he got to that point to just breathe. His ribs hurt and were making it nearly impossible to move. 

Were they broken? Probably. That would be just his luck. 

God, he was out of breath but breathing hurt even worse. Fuck Waltz. He wished he’d killed him when he’d had the chance. His heart picked up its pace as he thought about that little fight. Had he really even had a chance then?

Okay break time over. 

He hissed as he laid his palms flat on the mattress and pushed himself up, shuffling his legs to be under him. Sweat was beading around his forehead by the time he’d gotten to a sitting position, leaning heavily on the concrete wall. He panted which made him feel more lightheaded but it was the only form of breathing he could bear at the moment. God his head hurt. 

He brought shaky arms up and felt around the back of his head. Even pressing lightly he cringed as his fingers found a sore spot. His hair was sticky with half dried blood and he was sure it trailed down to his shirt collar. 

When was the last time he’d been banged up this bad? He couldn’t even remember. It felt like he’d been hunting Lucas’s killer for forever at this point. He wilted slightly; it seems he wasn’t going to get that justice they’d been hunting for after all. No time to dwell on that right now. Not when his current situation was still full of unknowns. If he could get his hands on a walkie, he could radio headquarters and hopefully get a rescue party. At the very least, someone could tell Patricia he wasn’t dead like he was sure they would assume when his squad was found.

He groaned softly. Patricia was going to kill him. This day just kept getting better and better.

It suddenly occurred to him to check his pockets. He’d been prepared to fight going into that tunnel and had brought as many weapons as he could carry. Even more important though, he’d had some combat morphine. It was rare to have but he always liked to have some on him just in case. Unfortunately, even though his body armor had been left on, his pockets were emptied. Even the small knife that had been strapped to his calf under his pants leg was gone.

Damn, guess he was continuing this the hard way.

He sucked in a breath before leaning forward to be on his hands and knees. This would be the worst part of this whole process. Gritting his teeth, he quickly hopped up, getting his feet under him. He forced himself to bite his tongue to curb a scream as his ribs were unbearably squeezed. Quickly he stood up straight, leaning against the wall again as he tried to get his breath back. His legs felt like jelly and his hands were trembling slightly. 

He was up though. He just had to stay that way. Once his legs were locked up enough to keep him up, he tested just how tightly zip tied his ankles were. At the very least, he had just enough room to slowly shuffle to the door. Not a great situation for his ego but at least he could move.

The room wasn’t very big and yet as he got closer to the rusty metal door he could hear more voices and footsteps. He couldn’t make out words but the speech patterns were enough to tell him he was surrounded by Renegades. Had to be. No one else talked in such a screechy way.

His vision swam occasionally, forcing him to stay leaning partially on the wall as he shuffled. His little hopping maneuver had done no favors for his head. The single bright light above him was also adding to the pounding pulsing through his temples. He’d kill for some aspirin right now. 

His hand brushed against the peeling red paint of the door. He tried not to get his hopes up but as he turned the handle and was met with resistance, he growled. The chance had been slim at best but testing the door had been his only plan. He was pretty incapable at the moment and with nothing else to occupy his mind, the pain came rushing to replace it. 

Suddenly he desperately needed to sit down. His hands came down to gently press against his stomach. Regret flooded through him instantly as that nearly had him dropping to the floor to throw up. Holy hell. How was he moving right now?

Shit he needed to sit. Falling on the concrete would not help his situation. Just as he’d turned to go back to the mattress in the far corner, the latch on the door jangled and clicked as it was unlocked. Aitor stumbled back, nearly falling anyway as he tripped slightly over the zip ties. 

He grimaced and scowled as he carefully cradled his ribs while Waltz strolled into the room. 

Waltz seemed agitated but as he saw Aitor up and moving, he smirked, “Welcome back. I was worried I’d regret my choice but I’m glad you’re making it worth my while.”

It pissed Aitor off that the man didn’t even feel the need to close the door. “Shut your fu-” he began to croak out, surprising himself a little that his voice was so raspy.

Waltz interrupted him though, striding towards him, “Now, now. Have a seat.” Before Aitor could tell him where to go and how to get there, Waltz was grabbing his shoulder strap and dragging him over to the mattress. A flash of comparing himself to a scruffed cat flew to the forefront of his mind, filling him with rage. The feeling was only maximized by the fact that the toes of his boots were barely brushing the floor.

Aitor’s curse was cut off as he was dropped on the mattress. Not even the comfiest mattress would have made the fall bearable. Aitor coughed, but refused to freeze up this time. A choked snarl escaped him as he kicked out as hard as he could. Waltz didn’t react to the hard kick to the shin other than to tilt his head slightly at him. 

“Yes,” he said after a moment, “I’d say this was a good choice. You will make an excellent test subject. Seeing that you survive the process, I already have your first mission in mind.”

“Wh… What the fuck are you…” he gasped, glaring at Waltz as he turned back on his back. “... talking about?” He hated how his words slurred. With the way his vision was swimming though, it was a miracle he was still awake.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Waltz crowed, kneeling down in front of him. His eyes bore into Aitor’s, looking for something. Aitor glared back.

“You’ll hang for this,” Aitor spat. “When they find my squad and my body is missing-”

“Nothing will happen.” Waltz leaned forward, hand reaching out towards Aitor’s face. Aitor snarled and attempted to slap Waltz’s hand away. A terrible sense of deja vu washed over him though as Waltz snatched his hands, overpowering him easily and pulling them down. Aitor wasn’t cowed though and tried to fight back anyway, raising his leg to kick again, especially spurred on by how close Waltz’s face was. Before he could even draw his legs back to strike, Waltz gripped his fingers and squeezed.

“Fuck!” Aitor snapped, arm jerking back as though he could escape Waltz’s hold.

Waltz seemed uninterested in this, simply using his other hand to grab Aitor’s jaw and hold his head still. The lieutenant’s nostrils flared in barely concealed pain. He swallowed thickly, fighting to keep from actually screaming as Waltz’s grip tightened every few seconds until he could feel his heartbeat pounding through the compressed veins in his fingers. 

Finally, he seemed satisfied and released Aitor’s jaw. “Do you truly think you are irreplaceable? Nobody is coming for you. They don't care about you. You are mine to do with as I see fit.” Waltz grinned, face morphing into something a little terrifying with the dark veins crawling up his cheeks. “How exciting.”

Waltz let go of him and stood, striding to the door. He stopped in the doorframe, not even turning back to his prisoner as he said, “Sit tight. We’ll be moving to a more permanent location soon.” The door slammed close as Aitor was forming an insult in his mind. 

“Fucker,” was all he came up with.

#whumptober2023 #no.2 #“They don't care about you.” #dying light 2 #dying light #dying light aitor #dl2 aitor #fanfiction #fic #minor character death tw #blood tw #broken bones tw #manhandling tw #cursing tw #needles tw #whump #waltz is here too

[ambrosialdesire]

cacoëthes

[ PART ONE ] [ PART TWO ] [ PART THREE ]

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 reiner x fem!reader word count: 12.7k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, explicit sexual content, unhealthy relationships, kidnapping mention, gore/violence, minor character death mention, usage of the word "dog" in a derogatory/offensive/mocking sense, chasing (hide-and-seek kinda), misogyny, physical assault, suicidal ideations (reader talks about dying a lot), stockholm syndrome, heavy manipulation/guilt-tripping, p*rn w/ plot, noncon/dubcon, hatefucking, mean dom reiner at first, praise & degradation, hair-pulling, slapping, forced f & m oral sex, vaginal sex, sorta missionary, slight belly-bulge mention, doggy-style, breeding (mating press), choking (sexual and nonsexual), marking, virginity loss (both of you), overstimulation (both of you), edging, dacryphilia kinda, mind-break (reader is implied to kinda lose her mind), size kink, brief tit-sucking/breast play, reiner has a short refractory period bc i said so >:), kinda aot spoilers if you haven't watched it before, all characters are 18+ synopsis: everything has fallen apart by the seams even more. reiner knows everything and you have nothing else to lose. taking your chances, you escape his clutches by slipping through liberio's alleyways but there's only a handful of buildings that can hide you before he catches you. terrified isn't the only word to describe what you were feeling and you can't imagine what he'd do to you if he gets his hands on you. a/n: finally the whorish activities begin! thank you all sm for the support for this series and my other fics! i've also reached over 1k likes in this blog and wow, i literally can't believe that my writing got this much attention in roughly 6-8 months! ik i said that i would be doing a konig fic before posting this and a hell of a lot of kinktober prompts but a bunch of shit came up irl that made it nearly impossible to have time to myself and this blog. really sorry about that but life happens unfortunately. anyways, i really ended this series off with a bang (literally) and i hope the ending is somewhat good enough. i would like to thank my friend for getting me back into aot bc without them, i wouldn't have seen the final episode nor would have made this blog. i think 6th/7th grade me would've been so surprised but feel so complete knowing that aot reached its end in the anime. thank you all again for investing and reading the cacoëthes series!! note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

It's over.

Three years of meticulous and dedicated planning were all torn away by a single bullet. What were the chances of this happening? Why did you never consider that he would kill the old man like this? He was supposed to be completely knocked out. The dosage was supposed to be enough for you to escape.

Everything was supposed to go your way.

"H-how are you even... Wh... Why did y-you..." You gripped the jacket in the middle of your chest, the air weighing heavy with every frightened breath you took. A man was dead because of you. No... because of him.

Where did he even get a gun?!

Reiner stopped aiming the rifle towards you, standing up straight while letting the gun fall to his side. There was no hint of any exhaustion from the drugs except the fact that he was heaving slowly, most likely from running. His appearance was definitely disheveled, the rain pulling down at his clothes and short hair. In the twisted crevices in your mind, you would've found it just a tiny bit attractive.

Regardless of that, you should've never underestimated him in the first place. How could you forget that he graduated second overall in the 104th Training Corps right behind Mikasa, the most terrifyingly strongest woman that matched up right to Annie’s level. You barely even reached the top twenty when you graduated, let alone the top ten.

He said nothing but raised his hand, beckoning for you to come to him as if you were some kind of lost pet. Was he joking? You shook your head and stood your ground, strands of wet hair sticking onto your skin. There was no telling whether it was the rain that caused that or the blood. He murdered an old man — he was a Marleyan traitor sure, but he was still a human — just to keep you here.

"Y/N—"

"No!" You finally snapped, the wind carrying the words that you've held back for so long. "I'm not coming home with you! I'm never going back, I'd rather die than carrying your fucking spawn!"

"You don't mean that."

How delusional can he be? Can nothing get through that stupidly thick skull of his?

"I meant Every! Single! Word! I hate you Reiner. I've always hated you! For three years, I had to put up with all of your shit! Not because I was beginning to fall for you or that you made me realize that maybe something… something in Marley was worth staying for, but because I was trying to survive. I did everything in order to live through this torment that you forced me into. So no matter what you do, no matter what you say, no matter who you kill," Your fists were balled up so tightly, you were sure that it had cut through the skin of your palms.

"I'll never love you."

It felt like the largest weights of the world had finally lifted off your shoulders and it took all your might to finally look him in the eyes after your confession. He bore a face of devastation, his mouth parted open and eyes wide in a state of complete shock.

You grinned, partially because you were happy to finally say something that bruised his spirit. Now that he was frozen in place and his eyes were slightly glazed over, you had to hastily figure out the controls for the boat.

As you turned away to try and get into the control room, the sound of the rifle went off once more. What the hell did he shoot at? The whistle of the bullet neared and suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through your arm. You cried out in pain, almost stumbling onto the corpse below you. In an instant, you placed your hand over the fresh wound, your undivided attention now back onto him. The rifle was back up and full aimed, faint amounts of steam coming out of the end.

Reiner shot you.

Though you were quite a distance away, you could tell that something changed in him. This was not the same man that you've just screamed all the vile profanities at. You had to get away, now. There was no time to figure out the controls, not when he's now trudging towards you at an alarming rate. You got off, nearly colliding to the ground from the rock of the boat and the slickness of the rained docks.

"Y/N!" He screamed your name out and you could hear the rage laced behind it. If he caught you, you were a dead woman. You started running, as fast as your legs could carry you. In an endless blur, you went from the docks into the empty streets of Liberio.

SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT.

You dashed left into an alleyway, almost stumbling and slipping on the smoothly cobbled streets, turning towards the farthest right that you were able to reach. Ducking down into a pile of soggy old boxes, you continue to grasp at your injured arm. You couldn't see the damage that was done but you could feel it, clenching your teeth as you ran your fingers across the wound.

You winced and cringed wordlessly as you tried to figure out how big it was and how deep the bullet went, feeling a good amount of your blood trickle down your fingers. There was no entry hole so he must've grazed you, but it was barely a miss in your opinion as it continued to gush out liquid at an alarming rate. You quickly glanced up at the storming sky, watching the lightning zip through the inky clouds before ripping a heaping chunk out of the end of your dress, timing it with the clashing clap of the thunder.

You bit down on the other part of the cloth as you tightly secured it around your wound. The effects of fatigue were finally starting to overtake you now that you had the chance to relax, the adrenaline within your veins weaning off bit by bit. With every breath you took, your lungs ached and burned unwillingly. Not to mention, your feet were definitely all cut up from scurrying around barefoot. You couldn't get tired here, not when you were running from a literal madman.

The wet stomps of boots neared and you stiffened up once more, hyper-focused on which direction it was going. It was unsettlingly still, the air suddenly feeling stuffy and murky as you held your hands against your mouth and nose. The situation felt exactly like the elevator in Trost, where groups of Titans were slowly closing in and all you could do was wait.

You tried to take in slow and steady breaths, but it was more difficult than you realized. There was a growing pressure on your chest that was making it completely strenuous in order to breathe properly, and to make matters worse, your heart was beating at an alarming rate. It had to be absurdly loud from the way you could hear it thump away at your eardrums.

"Where are you?" He trailed his voice off in a taunting manner, his breathing hard yet erratic. You could only imagine his eyes darting about in the dark, trying to pinpoint your exact location.

"I'm going to fucking find you and when I do—" The sound of a crate being kicked and smashed against the brick wall nearby made you flinch, your hands gripping onto your mouth harder as you began to shake in fear.

"Y/N, baby. I'm not gonna hurt you, honest. I'm just... losing my temper. It's your fault y'know but I didn't mean to shoot you — well, I did, what else would stop you from running too far?" The more he spoke, the more nauseous you felt. Reiner really lost his goddamn mind.

The minutes felt like hours the more he stood there trying to figure out where you've wandered off to. You closed your eyes and started to pray, as if some God would be listening to someone like you. The sounds of shuffling and a frustrated growl slowly started to fade away from your proximity, and you let out a silent shaky exhale of relief.

You felt absolutely filthy. Your clothes were torn up, you were sitting in a dirty alleyway, and blood was all over you. It's a miracle that you were even still alive right now.

If you didn't move now, he'd double back to check the areas he originally skipped over. Peeking over the boxes, you slowly got up, trying to change your position along to the sound of the thunder and wind. You peered around the corners of the alleyway, not being able to see a few feet in front of you from the sudden appearance of fog. You could use it to your advantage. Reiner didn't know where you specifically were either; there was your second advantage.

In the same alleyway you were currently in, there were other various passageways. Despite being here for so long, you haven't really memorized the layout of the internment zone. Ugh, you should have done so in the first place but you didn't really create a plan B to your escape plan. It was all going swimmingly up until that moment.

Maybe there was a way that you could retrace your steps back to the boat but you ran mindlessly, just thinking about how to get as far away from him as possible. You couldn't really think, not when he had continuous months of training and you barely had any brush up of any of your skills.

You exhaled and started walking with your body snug against the wall at a brisk pace, taking a few look backs just in case. In your mind, you had to have hope. The kind of hope that you were able to get back to the fishing docks before he could find you. Liberio was a pretty large area so it could take him a while to locate you, unless he transforms and wrecks every building in sight. That was unlikely since this was his home, but him waking up from the drugs was also unlikely and yet it still happened.

Fate was against you and so was time. When morning comes, you'll have nowhere to hide and there was the possibility that Reiner would alert the militia that a threatening "rogue" Eldian was wandering the streets. All you could rely on was yourself and hopefully that could be all you needed.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

Lost.

You were lost.

You thought that if you just kept wandering around, then you'd end up in a street that you'd recognize and use it to get to the docks, but there was jack shit. Everything looked the same: the windows, the walls, the streets. The fog was starting to get on your nerves as well, the rain was able to loosen up but the haze was still blocking most of your vision.

Were you stuck in hell?

The good thing was that you hadn't heard any boots anywhere nearby so you definitely had to be a safe distance away from Reiner. A warm dribble ran down your arm, causing you to halt. The laceration was still bleeding, the cloth now a darker shade of red than before. It was to the point where it was steadily dripping down your fingertips and onto the stones. If you died from blood loss before getting on the boat, it would be better than nothing.

"C'mon me. You've been through worse," You mumbled quietly to yourself as you tore another piece off from the dress, tying it over the soaked one. "You're almost there."

It had to be past midnight by now, time felt like it was working differently once you became lost. Like clockwork, you began moving once more. You had no other choice in the matter, any more hesitation and you'd get caught. Everything felt like it was at its complete limit than before but you had to push through, for your sake.

If you got out of here, you swore to be a better person. You'd be more hesitant, more calloused towards others. Back in Paradis, your kindness was the literal death of you. You held too much trust in others and look where it got you, married to an insane man who's been fucking up your life since day one when the breach occurred in Wall Maria. You were merely a puppet in the hands of Reiner and it wasn't fair.

When the Armored Titan ran through the Shiganshina District, the rubble that came from it pulverized your family. That marked the very moment where you became an orphan. A child to no one.

There were no final goodbyes, there was nothing. You didn't even get to see them brutally pass either. When you dashed home after the Colossal Titan kicked the wall in, you came upon the discovery that your house was completely crushed, fresh crimson splattered everywhere. Would that have made you feel better? Seeing them lose their lives right in front of you?

You don't even remember how you got on one of the escape boats, everything was a faded blur. As the boat sailed out of Shiganshina, you knew deep in your heart that if you had gotten home sooner from the market right before the Colossal Titan came, you would've died with them and that would be it.

You wouldn't have the unwavering decision to join the training corps the moment you became of age. You wouldn't have been matched up and sparring with Reiner for the first time just because Instructor Shadis wanted you to have a challenge. You wouldn't have been saved from him during the Trost disaster. You wouldn't have befriended both him and Bertolt afterwards, acting like the three of you were the bestest of friends. You wouldn't have been shipped off to Marley like a piece of precious stone that he had caught sight of. You wouldn't be in this complicated and hectic situation in the first place.

Placing a hand on your face, you realized that tears had started to wet your cheeks. When did you start crying? How long has it been since the last time you've cried this much? It was back when you had that fight with Porco, wasn’t it? He’d call you a crybaby if he saw you right now. Besides that, how long has it been since you've contemplated your past to the point where you started crying about it again? A soft hiccup left your lips and you sniffed, wiping the tears away with your hands.

You wondered if your parents would be proud of you for trying to escape the very person that took away their lives. Your older sister and brother could be cheering you on and that's why you're still standing despite the many things that happened to you. Afterall, they've always wanted the best for you. Your little brother would be telling you that if you gave up now, he'd take all of your favorite candies and toys and play without you. You wrapped your arms around you and sobbed, heavy tears dripping down your nose and jaw.

Reiner took all that pure love from you without even knowing and tried to replace it with a festering rot, something that he thinks is love. He betrayed you over and over again, misconstruing everything that you've done for him as the desires and pursuits of romance. Nothing in the world can redeem what he has done to you, he created too many shattered pieces.

As you finally looked up through your tear-blurred vision, the fog began to part to the point where you were able to see through it. You wiped your eyes, in disbelief in what you saw. It couldn't be, could it? Piled up boats. Ocean. The dock.

You… did it? You did it. You did it!

The soreness in your body felt suddenly a million times better as you ran forwards, the air in your lungs feeling even more fresher than before. Your eyes ran through the various ships, trying to find Mr. Kraus' as fast as you could. Adrenaline pumped through you when you spotted the lantern at the edge, almost cheering loudly in the night. You stepped slowly aboard, trying to ignore the fact that the captain was still lying dead on the deck.

Crouching down, you placed two fingers over his eyelids and shut them close. His body had long gone cold but you felt absolutely awful. At least he was with his son again.

Should you... bring him along for the ride? You'd probably dump the body once you were more at sea but it was only fair. He was able to give you this chance of escape and the most you could do for him now was to take him to a place where no one would bother him anymore.

You rummaged carefully through his pockets, finding a key located in his chest. There was a photo of his son and him connected to it, so you decided to remove it and tuck the picture back into his jacket pocket. "Thank you Mr. Kraus. For everything."

Entering the control room, you felt like a completely new woman. Under the darkness of the night, you struggled to locate where the key was supposed to be inserted. You've never operated machinery this complicated before or rather, any machinery. ODM gear and the kitchen appliances were the closest you’ve ever learned about that was a machine. Reiner never bought a car, he was probably worried that you'd use it to escape or because a woman wasn't able to drive one. They were pricey too, his warrior salary was pretty good but not good enough to buy one of them.

Fumbling around for a bit, you finally inserted it into something that felt like it was fit for a key and twisted, the instrument panel lighting up and the boat roaring to life. Letting out a light laugh of relief, your focus was now on how to make it go forwards. There were a bunch of levers and buttons, most of them not labeled or containing numbers that made your head spin. Well, there was this big red lever so it must be indicating that it was the forward—

A large arm wrapped around your throat behind you, utter horror and anguish shooting through your body as your thoughts were completely interrupted. They squeezed hard around your neck and pulled you back roughly, making you gag and involuntarily fall backwards towards the violator. You could only assume the worst on who it was.

Your nails dug deeply into his rigid muscle as you desperately tried to escape, your vision beginning to form dark spots from the lack of oxygen. No... no! This can't end here! You've gotten so fucking far, you're not about to lose now.

You reared your foot back into his knee, hearing him cry out in pain and loosen up around your neck. Dropping one arm from clawing apart the skin, you elbowed as hard as you could into his stomach. He didn't let go and you kept hitting, letting out a flurry of choked out curses at him until he finally released you. Falling to the ground, you grasped at your throat, sharply coughing up and heaving as you tried to breathe properly again.

"FUCK! You... You still got it." He coughed a few times, a grin forming on his face.

"It took me a whi... a while to find where you went, but then I saw the blood trail you left behind and saw... that you were heading back to the dock. Terrible decision to be honest." Reiner was out of breath too, probably because you beat the shit out of his stomach and chest trying to free yourself. Steam was rising off of him though so he'd be fine in a matter of minutes while you still struggled to get a good word in.

"But it's the end of the line, no more running. We're going home."

"I'm... I-I'm not going." You managed to blurt out before coughing again but you knew you couldn't move any longer, everything was starting to hurt again.

"Don't you get it? There's nothing for you in Paradis, you only have me." Reiner crouched to your level, resting his hand on your shoulder just like he did back when you were still soldiers. Why was he acting like he was still this merciful and kind knight? He was far from it.

"I'll carry you and clean you up, don't worry."

You spat on his face, watching the liquid dribble down his face as you scowled. "I'm not going anywhere with you, you fucking dog."

It was an abrupt pain.

He raised a hand and struck you, hard. Hard enough to almost make you black out from the sheer force. Hard enough to have the dark spots in your vision make its reappearance.

The side where he hit you made your ear ring and every inch of your cheek had a lingering sting. You could taste the hint of iron on your tongue as you turned your head back to look at him. He was infuriated, more so than when you tried poisoning him. Oh, so that's what pisses him off.

"Don't you fucking dare call me that."

You spat the blood out of your mouth, beginning to giggle like a fool.

"Why? Isn't that what you exactly are? Cause your dear Marleyan daddy didn't love your poor devil mommy enough to stay for either of you."

Reiner struck you again with the same amount of force and you started laughing aloud, feeling more blood trickle down and into your mouth. Maybe the blood loss was making you spiral out of control. Who cares? Everything was starting to fade and go all static-like so who cares what's coming out of your mouth right now.

You started to slump down to the ground unwillingly, the world feeling woozy and cold. Your burning limbs were on the brink of snapping off from moving too much this past evening that you could no longer support yourself. He stopped you from collapsing any further however, holding you against him as if he hadn't previously slapped the literal soul out of you.

If you died here, you'd die not being held by him. Weakly, you tried pushing yourself out of his arms but didn't budge an inch. He leaned close to your ear, bushing strands away from it. You weren't able to hear what he said, losing consciousness the minute he began to speak.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

You wished everything was still a dream. To no surprise, you awoke back at home on the bed, completely cleaned and patched up. You were no longer wearing the filthy dress and jacket, rather you were in a nightgown; not in your most provocative one luckily. It absolutely ached — even to just hardly shift around — so you didn't bother punishing yourself that much, only barely moving your head here and there.

The first thing you noticed after your eyes adjusted was the coverings of your injuries. Your arm gun wound was wrapped up in bandages and there were smaller dressings around your feet; damn, he really took care of you while you were still passed out. The next thing you noticed was how Reiner wasn't in the room, probably preoccupied with something. Right, he had to leave for another battle.... today? What time was it? What day was it?

You turned your head towards the closet, seeing that it was pried completely open, the hinges nearly torn off the wall. He probably hid the rifle in there for years and you've never noticed it, even when you were hiding something in there too. Everything was knocked over as if he was in a panic trying to find it and you weakly sat up to see the casualties of the items in there, your heart sinking down in your stomach as you saw the shoebox knocked over and the contents inside being completely empty. He knows, he had to.

At that moment, the door swung open and you winced trying to fall back down on the bed to pretend that you were still sleeping. It was pointless however, he already entered before you could close your eyes.

"You're awake. Morning— er... Good evening actually." From what you can barely see from the hallway light, Reiner had a bowl of soup in one hand and the journal — your journal — in the other. Can this get any worse?

"It's been four days—"

"Four?!" You shot up, wincing as your muscles pulled themselves taut. He settled the soup bowl down on the nightstand, turned on the lamp, and pushed you back down on the bed, hushing you like you were some kid. "Why are you still here then? Aren't you supposed to fight in another stupid self-war?"

"I told my superiors that you severely injured yourself to the point where you weren't able to move. I didn't tell them that you were trying to escape because they would've taken you away from me, luck is once again on your side." He lightly laughed as if it was some funny joke.

"Anyways, since you didn't have family here and my family refused to take care of you, I told them that I wanted to stay until you got better. After that, I'll do whatever they want me to do. You can call this an extended vacation." He explained and you wanted to throw yourself off of the building right now.

"Can't you just kill me already?" You groaned in anguish and he chuckled, shaking his head.

"No can do, I love you too much to do that."

"Well I don't love you."

"I know. I've been reading this little book of yours when I woke up from that trick of yours and stumbled across it," He shook it in his hands and opened it to a random page, your face contorting to panic. "Nearly three years of extensively written details about how much you hate me."

"Reiner—"

"Here's a passage from last year on July 5th: Reiner's downstairs right now so I'll make this quick. He asked me again about children, well not really asked, alluded to the fact that he wants them. There was some kids playing outside, kicking around a ball, and he said that he wished that we had a child to join them. I didn't say anything in reply. But I can't take it anymore, I have to get out of here. A child between us would be detrimental to my sanity, I couldn't bring myself to love it. Not when it's a part of him." His voice was cold as he read and you couldn't bring yourself to look at him.

He went on to read more pages, paragraphs of you talking about wanting to kill him, the failed methods you had planned, the whole plan between Mr. Kraus and you. Did you feel embarrassed that he finally found out that you were acting or humiliated that everything went wrong? You heard the noise of flipping pages and he cleared his throat.

"This was the final thing you wrote in this. I'll skip the beginning since it's not the main point I want you to hear." Your eyes widened and shot up, your hand darting painfully to grab the journal from him. He can read anything, anything but that excerpt. He stepped back and you fell off the bed with a heavy thump, a strangled out cry coming out of you. Your arms shook as you attempted to push yourself up, but he kicked you back down to the floor and placed a sturdy boot down on the middle of your back. You yelled out to him to stop — to stop reading the very secrets you kept from him — your voice starting to go hoarse.

"...If you, Reiner, find this when I'm long gone, know that I've always hated you. I've always been sickened by your touch and your kisses, I never meant any of those I love yous, and I've always wished you died horribly during the times you went off to those battles. I wanted to receive a letter or be told personally that you were killed in action, shot down by the cannons that were able to pierce through your armor." Reiner dug his heel into you, an agonizing shriek being pulled out of your beaten body.

"I'd weep, not of sadness but of joy because I would be finally be free from your clutches. Whatever you thought you taught me in order to be your perfect spouse, I was playing a role in order to survive this insanity of yours. I never loved you and I never will. Don't try to go back to Paradis to find me. You would have to bring back my dead body in order to bring me back to Marley." This was a complete and utter nightmare.

"I treated you to a life of safety, I took care of you when you were sick and injured. I didn't have sex with you because I wanted to respect your space. I fed you, clothed you, I did everything. I put you on a pedestal all because I love you." He dug deeper into your spine, your nails scraping into the wood.

"And this is what I get in return? An ungrateful little bitch who'd rather be ripped apart by Pure Titans than love me. A fucking whore that bats her eyes at a different man while calling the man she's married to a dog."

You gritted your teeth as hot tears poured down your face. "Yeah, that's right. I'd rather die horribly against a Titan if it meant that I'd never be with you. I'd fuck Porco if I could, I would do it behind your back if I wanted to too. Out of everyone you chose in Paradis, you married the one that was too much trouble. That's what Hoover said about me, right?"

His foot finally came off your back, letting you finally breathe, until he crouched down and pushed you up against the side of the bed, holding you there. Reiner was pissed beyond belief, teeth bared at you. "He did. He did and even if he was right, I didn't care because I thought I could change you."

"But you never were able to, you failed. Nothing you can do can change how I feel about you. But what can I expect—" Your narrowed eyes met with his, seeing the conflicted anger bubble in his brown irises. A small smug smirk grew on your face, your head tilting off to the side tauntingly.

"A dog will always be a dog."

A singular hand wrapped around your neck in a flash, the sheer force making you gag as he cut off your air flow once more. You fought back, trying to pull off his arm with both of your hands around his forearm. Small little sparks flickered off of him, fear melting into your expression. If you weren't imagining it, that would've meant that he was ready to turn. If you so much as put the smallest scratch on him, he'd transform. He'd kill everyone in the vicinity because of you.

" 'M s... s-sorry." You strangled out and he finally let you go, watching you fall back onto the ground. Your neck had to be bruised from getting violently choked all the damn time.

"If that's how you see me, fine. I'll just fuck you like one since that's all you see me as."

What?! Did you hear him right? That was literally the last thing you wanted! And maybe that's why he's resorting to it, the sick fucker.

The sound of a belt unbuckling caught your attention and you panicked, quickly pushing him away and attempted to retreat by crawling. Everything in your body still sorely burned but it was better than getting your virginity taken. He grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you back, making you shriek in surprise. Before standing up, he placed you back in your original position, making you sit on the ground right in front of him with your head against the side of the mattress.

"I should've done this right from the start." Reiner sneered, pulling out his partially-hard dick from the confines of the dark uniform pants he wore. Your eyes widened at the sight of it, thighs and mouth clenching tightly as if they were suddenly glued together. On numerous awkward occasions and the night of the Porco incident, you've felt it up against you but never seen it like this; the only time you ever seen a dick was diagrams of it in class during the training corps.

But this monster!? No fucking way that thing of his would fit anywhere inside your body. It was stupidly thick, his hand loosely wrapped around the veiny shaft as he slowly stroked himself hard directly in front of you. The tip towards the midpart of his cock was slightly flushed a soft pink and when he tugged back the skin for you to see, the tip was actually a rosy color. You couldn't even bring yourself to describe how hefty his balls were as they rested on the outside of his pants.

Reiner's heart was thumping hard as he jerked himself right in front of your face, his cheeks burning up as your owlish eyes stared at it. Was it that fascinating? This was terribly embarrassing for him — he was still a virgin too and this was technically the first time he's done anything sexual in your conscious presence — but you've led him on for years, this was punishment for the cruel lies you've fed.

He let out a quiet, shaky breath when he showed you the tip, your curious eyes still observing him. God, the two of you should've done this way back in the honeymoon. Maybe this wasn't the way he wanted each other's first times to be, but he would be lying if your stubbornness wasn't completely making him hard right now.

Once it was completely at full mast, you were pretty sure it was bigger than the length of your face. This was a threat, a danger to your body.

"Open." You glared at him and shook your head in refusal, even going so far to put your hands over your mouth. Who the hell does he think he is? He scoffed, his free hand grabbing the hair at the back of your head and jerking it back roughly. Asshole.

"Open. Or else."

You rolled your eyes at him, removing one hand as if you were complying. Instead, you put your middle finger up and smugly smiled under your other hand. He frustratingly growled under his breath and pulled at your hair again, holding onto it this time around until your scalp began to sting. You started slapping and hitting at his thigh to make him stop, carefully trying to avoid touching it. If this went any longer, he'd probably sever your scalp from your skull. But he refused to let go, waiting until you took off your hand and replaced it with him.

"Alright! I'll fucking do it! Just stop!" Screaming into your hand, you finally unwillingly gave in after the pain got too much for you but hesitated to even lay a finger on it. He loosened his grip but still held onto your hair, lightly caressing it between his fingers.

He was still holding it in one hand so you put your hands on his thighs and nervously leaned in. Closing your eyes shut, you shakily placed the tip in between your lips. It was warmer than you thought, a sticky substance staining your lips as you began to pull away. Was that satisfying enough for him? Absolutely not. Unbeknownst to you, he had other plans, unexpectedly shoving his cock through and bottoming out completely.

Your eyes shot open as you gagged badly, trying to wiggle out of his grip and recoiling your head backwards against the mattress. Panic ran through your body as he refused to let go, only pushing in impossibly deeper down your throat. This wasn't meant to be in your mouth, much less shoved completely down your throat without care. You resorted to try and settle down, breathing through your nose in panicked bursts. If you threw up on him, he'd probably pull out but if he didn't, you'd choke on your own vomit.

An audible groan came out of him once everything was in and he clenched at your hair. Reiner partially felt sorry for doing this to you but he couldn't resist when he watched you basically give a cute little kiss on his tip. He tilted his head to the side, experimentally thrusting in short bursts and watching your reaction. The inside of your mouth was insanely hot and you kept vocally protesting, sending vibrations down and against his dick. You kept constantly moving, almost bobbing your head back and forth along with his light prodding, persistently trying to get him out. He felt your tongue stroking against the bottom of his shaft, a shiver going down his spine.

Your tear-stricken gaze looked up at him, inadvertently begging him to free you from this but he only felt himself become even more stiff. Shit, he could cum right there and now. It felt too good for him to take it out just because you were suffocating, you deserved all of this after all.

Tears began to fall down your cheeks as he kept his cock locked in, your jaw already aching from being pried open for so long. You tried biting down but the sheer thickness made it quite literally impossible. You didn't want to die suffocating on his dick, what a humiliating headstone that would be. Here lies Y/N Braun: Beloved daughter and wife, died being forced to appease her husband sexually since she wasn't able to escape Marley fast enough.

Reiner suddenly started to let out soft grunts and forcibly pushed you closer from the back of your head with both hands, your face flushed against his lower half. Something viscously warm went down your throat in inconsistent spurts, eyes widening in shock as you were forced to swallow the liquid. What the fuck, did he just—!?

Copious amounts of drool and still-warm cum spilled out as he finally pulled out, the fluids dribbling down your chin as you started coughing up a lung. The taste was unlike anything you had before, meshing from a dull salty to a bearable bittersweet flavor. To your horror, he was still hard, twitching right in front of you as pearl-like beads of white ran down his length. Weren't men supposed to go soft afterwards?

Reiner didn't say anything, only panting before crouching down to your level. You shot a glare at him as you rubbed your throat, heaving slowly. Unlike you, his large pupils were blown out with lustful possession and he dove in to kiss you, ignoring the fact that he was consuming his own fluids intermingled with your saliva.

You fought back, teeth hitting teeth. It only egged him on however, pushing you against the bedside as he continued to ravage your mouth, biting down on your bottom lip. An involuntary gasp slipped out and he pushed his tongue in, the muscle brushing against yours. You could barely breathe, completely overwhelmed with everything that was happening to you.

Large hands grabbed at your hips and pulled you closer to his lower half, your body twitching at the sudden movement. You went to shove him off while he was distracted sucking your face off, but he barely pulled away to let the two of you breathe. He rested his forehead against yours, eyes locked on each other as the two of you drew in intense, erratic breaths.

"Can Porco kiss you like that?"

You were rendered speechless, Reiner suddenly picking you up from the ground. You didn't fight him when he did, already exhausted and still shellshocked from what he had asked. He laid you down on your back but your legs still dangled off the bed, confusion forming in your expression. His figure shadowed over you, the lamp barely illuminating his features.

He thought you were still so pretty despite becoming a mess that he caused, your eyes still glimmering in uncertainty. Since you've graciously let him accidentally ejaculate in your mouth, he had to return the favor to you, even if he was still angry at you. Tonight was the night to do absolutely everything, even if you still hated him at the end. He'll change your feelings towards him no matter what, even if he reached the end of his Titan's inheritance.

He dropped down in front of you, lifting up one of your legs and started placing short kisses down your calf to your inner thigh. It was sorta ticklish, partially because of his stubble, until he started needily sucking and licking the skin. You bit down on your tongue, tired of giving any satisfaction of whether something he did was pleasurable to you. He won't win, not this time around.

He reached for your other leg as he dropped the other on his shoulder, and repeated his actions, biting down when he was close to your womanhood. You winced at the pain, trying to push his face away with your hand. But before you could, Reiner pulled away and you swore you saw your blood stained on his teeth before he licked it away.

"What are you—" You inhaled sharply as a finger tentatively prodded against your covered hole, face immediately erupting in heat.

"You're wet." Reiner bluntly stated as he withdrew it, a string of your fluids still attached. He was just as surprised as you were. He didn't even do anything to you yet, unless you liked getting your throat stuffed with every inch of him. His cock twitched impatiently underneath him, no longer drenched with your saliva and his cum.

"W-wait that can't be, I-I..." You fumbled around your words, utterly lost on what was happening to your body. You tried to sit up but he started to tug your nightgown upwards, alarms setting off in your ears. You couldn't be attracted to this, to him.

"Hold on. R-Reiner st... stop—" You were cut short when he pressed two of his fingers back onto the dampened cloth, slowly beginning to rub up and down. One hand shot up to your mouth, swallowing down any little moans that tried to escape. The pleasurable shivers from the last time he fondled you were back, a shudder going down your spine.

Reiner wanted more, almost ripping the fabric off. But he restrained himself, no matter how much his dick was begging to be touched or be inside of you. He pulled them off, weaving it through your legs before you could protest and enveloped his mouth in-between your slickened folds. He groaned heavily against you, eyes almost rolling to the back of his head. You tasted so sweet, better than he had ever imagined in his mind. He began to lap up the liquids that continued to gush out with every stir of his tongue, your thighs squishing his head.

He could die a happy man now that he finally had a taste of you.

You shivered as his tongue teased around your hole, greedily licking up your arousal that continued to spill out. The hand against your mouth clenched into a fist and your fingers ached as they gripped the sheets underneath you tightly, head throwing back as he began to attentively suck on your hardened clit. Why the hell was he so good? It was impossible to think that he learned this from someone else.

Unconsciously, you pushed your hips more towards his face and bucked when he laid his tongue flat against you. Soft moans started to slip out along with your panting, the fuzzy pleasure getting to your head. His hands grabbed the meat of your thighs and forced you to stay open, his grip tightening if you tried to close them. This shouldn't feel so good, betrayal whispering in every cell of your brain.

"Reiner," A pathetic whimper of his name came out of your mouth before you could stop it. He looked up at you, still dragging his tongue from your entrance to the hardened nub. "Please, please stop, s-something doesn't feel right."

He ignored you per usual, as if anything you say now would change anything, but his eyes never left yours. There was a sort of pressure building up around your lower half and it was terrifying, you didn't know what was going to transpire. As if he knew what was happening, the pacing of his tongue quickened, your hand shooting up and grabbing his hair. The sensation was too much for you to handle. As you tried to tug him away from your pussy, he moaned against you, a shot of pleasure running through you.

You were close, he could tell from how much you desperately started to ride against his tongue, his nose nudging against your clit with every little flinch. The influx of juices that were leaking out started to even become more apparent. You couldn't hide it, you loved him pleasuring you. He would've been willing to do this for you whenever you asked, all you had to do was let him into your heart. As much as he wanted you to suffer, he's a kind man, he'll let you release in his mouth. Without hesitation, Reiner started to rub your clit with his fingers as he tongue-fucked your entrance, feeling your walls clench around the muscle.

Your involuntary moans became louder until your orgasm hit you fast and hard, your back arching as blinding white stars filled your vision. Your body shuddered and rode against his face, your hand accidentally gripping his hair too hard and pulling him close to your pussy. It felt like you were knocked dizzy as if he had struck you once more, panting heavily as you came down from that giddy high bit by bit. He finally pulled away but still was lazily rubbing your clit, your body quivering with every teasing rotation.

"You did so good baby, you're so good." Reiner quietly praised, placing a wet kiss on your thigh. You couldn't say anything in reply, still completely drained out of everything. He removed his fingers away and got up, your body lightly twitching from the loss of contact.

You had to watch him remove his shirt, heart skipping as you saw the ripples of muscle you've avoided to look at for years. God, you missed out on a lot. His chest was beefier than you expected, only feeling it against you through his hugs and the occasional times that you've accidentally touched them.

He pushed down his pants further, almost completely bare from what you were able to see. There was a trail of slightly dark blonde hair above the base of his dick, the wisps of it stopping below his belly button. The sound of thuds from his boots followed suit and were shoved aside with his foot. Terror began to claw out through the warm haze as he pulled you more to the edge by your hips and started to line his cock up to your entrance, the fat tip nearing your hole as he held onto one of your thighs to keep you open.

"W-Wait Reiner, it's not going to fit!" You begged, the realization finally hitting. You were going to get destroyed by him. If you finally got fucked, there was no going back. There was a chance that you were never going to be the same person ever again afterwards.

"I don't care, I'm fucking you whether or not it fits." He lowly growled, his personality doing a complete turnaround suddenly. You tried struggling, hands shooting up to his chest and pushing, digging your nails into his stupidly meaty pecs as he ignored you. Your legs were wildly kicking around in protest from a sudden shot of adrenaline, but the hand on your thigh had squeezed you to the point where you thought he would rip your flesh right off if you kept fighting him. There was no way out of this anymore, complete and utter hopelessness settling in the pit of your stomach as you finally gave into his desire.

He pushed the uncut tip in through your folds, a pained whine coming out of you as he continued to stretch you out. It burned as he slowly and completely sheathed himself in you, hot tears falling down your cheeks. He was simply too big for your poor body to handle, unused to anything being inside. You uncontrollably tightened around him, almost hyperventilating from the pain.

"Reiner it hurts, take it out please!" You cried out and tried to move off of it, only meeting with painful throbs in your gaped cunt. The hand that held you open went to your hip and kept you steady, still speared around his cock.

Reiner used his free hand and wiped your tears away, licking his thumb afterwards. Was that supposed to be some form of dull comfort? What a jerk, punishing you like this. A few more agonizing seconds went by and he experimentally rolled his hips against you, a gasp shooting out of you as you felt the tip briefly press against your cervix.

You started pleading with a mantra of his name, teary eyes inspecting his, searching for some sort of penitence. There was nothing, nothing but a burning fire of anger. It was your fault that it had gotten this far, the rage blinding him to go through this sort of tortuous action.

Maybe if you let him do you once before, he would've been satiated from the start.

He was holding himself back, feverish gummy walls clenching onto his cock like a vise. You were babbling like an idiot from the slightest movement, saying his name as if it was the only thing that was keeping you from going mad. He thought that it was cute how you started shortening his name to only Rei, he'd never heard that before.

"Did you forget how much you hate my guts? How much you'd rather die than get fucked by me, a dog?" Reiner finally spoke, taunting as he began to rub your clit, watching how your head rolled back into the messed up sheets in complete submission.

"Fuck. I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You whimpered out a quick apology, the same build-up of pressure forming in the pit of your stomach. Why were you apologizing? You never felt the slightest bit of pity for this man before, but you'd do anything for him to get this thing out of you as soon as possible.

"Rei, I'm sorry. I really am. You're not — ah — you're not a dog. Y-you're not. T-take it out please, you're too big."

"Sorry doesn't fix what you said." He felt you clench up, pulling him in deeper. He started to pick up his pace, embarrassing squelching sounds of your sopping pussy becoming louder as he started to steadily pound into you. Reiner watched with every heavy thrust he made, your stomach would slightly bulge out. He almost laughed at the sight, he really is too big for you.

"Reiner—"

"Sorry doesn't fix what you wrote." You couldn't stop yourself from crying out as he ceaselessly bobbed back and forth, the stretch becoming less and less painful the more he fucked you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he hit a particular spot within you, core squeezing. He took notice from how your muscles tightened around him, beginning to angle himself to only hit that specific area, a towering pleasure enveloping your insides. This cursed man and his godforsaken attentiveness.

"Rei—"

You couldn't hold back your moans any longer, the constant stimulation on your clit and within your pussy was undeniably too good for your body to ignore.

"Sorry doesn't fix three years of lies." Reiner pushed himself in roughly, his lower half flushed against yours and you immediately fell apart, wanton moans following as you came on his cock in short spasms. His hand gripped your hip in an achingly rigid fashion as your walls fluttered, trying to milk him for all he's worth.

Disgust began to crawl in and you turned your head away from him as the euphoria fogged up your thoughts once more. He didn't stop despite you already finishing, short little whimpers escaping you as you felt his veiny shaft continuously bully your oversensitive walls. He leaned in and forced you to face him once more, kissing you hard but slow. Your arms wrapped around him suddenly, your hands clawing down into his back. He winced against your mouth and bit down on your lip in return, a painful cry slipping out as you pulled away for air.

Reiner dove back to kiss you, barely giving you any second to recuperate. Your moans muffled against his mouth as you came again without warning, wrapping your legs around his waist at the same time as you unintentionally pulled his torso closer to yours with your arms. He let out a soft groan against your lips and you felt a burning warmth fill your insides up, devastation immediately filling your mind.

This was it. Everything that you've worked so hard for in order to prevent this scenario had crumbled to pieces. Was it really worth it to even try in the first place? You despised him, you hated his entire being so much.

You then realized that he hadn't pulled out, vaguely feeling that he was still hard but his pace going back to a slow rock. You were so exhausted and so sensitive, what more did he want out of you?

He could see that you were already getting weaker, slow and heavy breaths against his chest. Your pussy was still so warm and tight that his mouth nearly watered as he leisurely fucked you at a snail's pace. He needed more, needed more of you.

While still sheathed inside, Reiner lifted you up further into the middle of the bed and slowly turned you around, making you hold yourself up on your hands and knees. As much as your limbs burned and ached, every light movement he made within you had you twitch and gasp, grasping at the sheets beneath your palms. He carefully removed your nightgown, weaving it through your arms and head with little resistance and threw it somewhere in the room. You didn't try to hide your bare body from him anymore, flinching as you felt him lean over and lovingly kiss down from your nape to your back. For some reason, that pained you even more.

"You wanted a dog," Reiner's voice gruffly whispered into your ear, your eyes widening as his hips began to move away from yours. "So I'll give you a dog."

He completely pulled himself out of your pussy and sheathed it back in all at once, the thickness filling up your insides. You cried out in shock, almost barely noticing the fact that his inhumanely stiff cock was no longer hurting you but instead flooding your body with an undeniable pleasure. His hands gripped the side of your hips once more, setting a brutal pace that nearly had you start drooling.

With this new position that Reiner put you in, it felt like his cock was pushing impossibly deeper with every aggressive stroke and the oversensitivity had caused your gummy walls to keep squeezing along with his thrusts. Your arms were shaking even more, barely able to keep yourself up on your hands.

"Fuck baby, you're squeezing me so much." He groaned and from his tone, you knew he had the smuggest grin on his stupid face.

"Almost makes me think that you like getting fucked in this position." Reiner's warm body leaned against your back and one of his hands left your hip, wrapping itself around your throat and forcing you to make eye contact with him.

You were right — he was smiling like an idiot — a faint sheen of sweat laid on the skin of his face, small beads rolling down. From the lamp's light, you could see that he was flushed pink, similar to when he began to get alcohol into his system. Little did you know that he was pussy-drunk, obsessed in the way you squeezed down on his shaft with every thrust he did, trying so desperately to look like you weren't enjoying this when your body was saying otherwise.

"For someone that says that she hates me, you sure are taking me so well." He cooed, his teeth biting down on the corner of his lip.

"F-fuck you." You barely managed to say those words with his hand choking you but he finally let go, strands of hair falling into your face. Reiner chuckled to himself while placing his hand on the midst of your back, pushing you down until your chest was pressed against the bedding and your ass facing up.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Both of his hands resumed back onto the peaks of your hips and he started plunging his cock into you at an alarming rate. The unwavering pattern of wet slaps of skin-on-skin contact paired with the sounds of his heavy breathing and your short gasps started to make your head spin. Reiner's hands were squeezing your hips so tightly as he continued to ravage your drenched and dribbling hole, you were sure that his handprints left their mark behind.

It was animalistic and you could feel yourself slowly losing to the carnality of it all. In a matter of minutes without realizing it, you began to rock yourself back and forth to match up to his thrusts. Does it really matter anymore? Might as well enjoy it as much as you can.

"Hah— You wanna cum?" His hand slipped around, his fingers dawdling around your swollen clit, not quite putting pressure on it but enough to where it made you desperate.

You nodded quickly against the mattress and a sharp strike on your ass was given, your body jolting from the suddenness of it.

"Use your words." He teased and you swallowed your pride, tilting your head to the side.

"I wanna — ngh — I wanna c-cum." You mumbled quietly only to retrieve another strike to your ass, the flesh jiggling under his palm. His pace slowed back down, the pressure within you slowly fading away. No, no, no. You were almost there. You attempted to buck back on his cock in an urgent fashion but he held you still, frustration bubbling in your mind.

"Louder." His fingers traced over the welts and bruises on your skin, a shiver going down your spine. "Louder and I'll give you what you want."

You forgot that he was torturing you. This whole thing that he started was a punishment but the way his words and his light touches immediately went down to your cunt, you couldn't help but feel your body betray your mind. It felt too embarrassing to repeat until the fingers on your clit pressed down with more pressure and started to rapidly circle around the nub.

Why was he doing this? Part of you could care less, not when you could feel yourself getting close again. You moaned, grinding against his movements as if any apprehension that you once had before never existed in the first place. Close, you were getting so close once more and then he abruptly stopped, the pads of his fingertips slipping out from in-between your puffy lips.

You looked back at him with almost glassy eyes, a crushing disappointment bubbling in your throat. "W-what?! Why'd you stop?"

Reiner only smiled, as if he had done no harm. "What do you want again baby? I'm sorry, it slipped my mind."

Is... is he serious? No, he had to be joking. The cruel bastard was building you up, only to make you dissatisfied. Dissatisfied and wanting more. You bit the side of your tongue.

"I want you to make me cum." The familiar feeling of his hand hitting your ass again had your skin begin to throb, a pained cry escaping you. "P-Please."

"So polite are we?" You could feel the pads of his fingertips near your clit once more but his cock started to slip out of you, every slow inch of his veiny shaft sliding out of your walls left you breathless. He barely left the tip in you, mixed essences from the both of you beginning to slowly spill out and down your inner thighs. "But I didn't quite catch that."

From there, over and over, Reiner built you up towards your impending climax, only to pause when you were right about to burst. It was like he knew you were almost about to get there, as if he was some kind of prophet. His fingers were wet with slick and cum, and you were acutely aware of his cockhead tormentingly moving in and out of your hole with little to no movement.

Your body was trembling, not from the exhaustion anymore, and a complete haze of lust and desire sunk its claws deep into the crevices of your mind. How much longer would he play this game of his? You knew he was holding himself back, tormenting himself from the satisfaction he was seeking for the entire night. As his fingers slipped away from your swollen cunt for the umpteenth time in a row, all of a sudden, something inside you cracked.

"Reiner, please please I wanna cum. I-I need to cum. God, just fuck me already!" You cried out, grinding your lower half against his for any sort of stimulation in absolute delirium. Reiner felt your hand try to slip him back into you, but only resulting in his cock messily slipping through and clumsily bumping against your clit. You whined in mute anger but still rubbed yourself against the stiff shaft, making do with what you were given.

He was thrown off from how quickly you folded to his request, almost freezing at the sight. To see you in such an achingly frantic state was everything that he didn't know he needed. His poor, poor wife, maddened by the desire and pleasure. You missed out for years due to your pathetic vows to abstain from any sexual contact from him and now that you've gotten a taste, you became immediately addicted to the feeling. To him. How cruel it was for him to keep you away from his cock, his heart aching as tears begin to fall down your beautiful face. Oh how can he stay mad at you?

After all, he can never say no to his beloved wife.

As promised, he started putting more pressure as he rubbed your clit, sheathing his dick quickly inside of your hole. You've never felt such relief in your life, walls squeezing and welcoming his thickness in with every greedy plunge.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckkkk..." You mindlessly drawled out curses into the wrinkled sheets and he muttered jokingly about something about you being so foul-mouthed but who the hell cares? A smile grew on your face until you saw white stars, searingly coming undone once more around his shaft. You could feel his tip press against your cervix, your figure stiffening and jerking against him with every quick spasm. His heavy body leaned over against your back, mouth enveloping the crook of your neck and biting down as he came with you, hot spurts of cum filling up your womb even more.

Unlike the other three times you came this evening, this orgasm ripped through your body. You might as well have blacked out from the blinding ecstasy.

You could barely feel yourself be turned back around, eyes tiredly flickering over and looking at his face. You stared at him absently, mind slowly going back in time. There were times throughout your life from when you've known Reiner that you've thought that he was irrevocably handsome. Yes, you've once and had begun to always considered him as family as a soldier, but you couldn't fault yourself for looking at your friend — husband — as more than something from time to time when the two of you were younger.

He's always been there for you, had seen you at your worst moments and yet, yet... he was the one that stayed. When you've made numerous attempts at his life, when you've nearly died from a Titan and blood loss, when the two of you would get in trouble with the superiors in Paradis; over and over, Reiner would be there. No matter what, he's the constant in your life, be it by choice or not.

He was kissing down your neck, nipping at your skin, and leaving purple marks with every light kiss. His calloused hand brushed against one of your tits, palming and squeezing at the flesh before he dove in and began sucking at the hardened bud. Your breath hitched as you watched and felt him roll his tongue around your nipple, kneading the other one with his free hand.

Sucking your breasts seemed to leave him entranced, a heavy sigh leaving him as he started to grind himself against the area underneath you. In the weirdest way possible, it was almost memorizing watching him, softly moaning when he switched over to the other breast. This whole experience was making you crazy, maybe as insane as he is.

Reiner muttered something against your chest about milk coming in and how good the taste would be, quietly assessing your expression afterwards. There was a hint of indifference within your eyes but you couldn't muster up any more words to snap back to him, complete exhaustion weighing heavy on your slackened limbs. You could say the same about him, it seemed that he was barely running on anything as well but that damned determination in his eyes said otherwise.

You knew his goal. You knew that this wasn't the last time the two of you were going to do this until he reached it. Maybe even then, he wouldn't even stop there either. That's just who Reiner is, the stubborn man.

He reached over to brush the strands out of your sweaty face, the burning warmth of your cheeks connecting against his palms.

"I love you."

You didn't even realize that he had pulled out from before, but regardless of that, he still positioned himself above you to push his dick back in your dripping sore cunt again. His thighs had rested on top of yours and he began to push your legs back towards your chest, holding you open by his muscled arms. Though he towered over you, he positioned himself to face you, his hazel eyes lovingly staring down into yours.

"Say it back." He let out a quiet whimper as he pushed his sensitive cock back into you, your brain melting at the overstuffed feeling that it gave you once more. "Please."

The gentleness of the way he said it, even within your dazed mind, had your heart pounding.

"I love you." He stated again as he began to rut his thick cock into your used core. You could only breathlessly moan in response, feeling him even deeper than before. You've never realized how much burningly warm Reiner was when he's this close on top of you, his body almost swallowing yours. You watched as his face contorted in complete focus as he methodically rutted into you, his hefty balls slapping against your ass with every given thrust.

This was different, not like the other times in this long night. It was tender, cautious. It was as if he was afraid of breaking you, as if you were suddenly the most fragile thing in the world. For some unknown reason, this realization made your stomach flutter like nothing else before. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to your face.

The two of you stared at each other quietly, lips parted and steadily heaving. Without the fuel of your hatred, all you could think of was how lovely he looked like this, as if he belonged in this position above you.

You moved and pushed yourself upwards, willingly kissing him for the first time in years. You lost yourself to the feeling of his lips on yours, all the while as his cock continued to spear your hole. Unlike him for most of the night, he stiffened and stilled, hesitantly kissing you back in return. The confirmation that he desperately sought for years, this was more than enough for him. His thrusts picked back up and became more steadier in pace, taking his time in pleasing the two of you.

He pulled away from your swollen lips for air, his breath shuddering as your aching walls quivered around him. Your hands cupped his face, quietly begging him to give you one more orgasm. One more but you’re so spent and sensitive, unsure if you had another one in you. You had to, for him.

"C-cumming, 'm cum—!"

You wordlessly cried out from another body-wracking orgasm, legs wrapping around his waist tightly and pulling him in even deeper than humanly possible. Your body became so pliable underneath him and without skipping a beat, he began to slam himself harder into you, the squelch of his cock jutting into you becoming louder by the second. To impregnate you with his child, that would be his final parting gift to you when he gives up his Titan. He had to reach his goal, hell, he might've already from the first time he got into your pussy.

There was always a however. Even then when he unfortunately leaves you alone with his kid, what Reiner wanted the most in the entire world was to hear you say that you loved him. Not in the fake way that you did for the past three years, but as your true self. The one that he had completely exposed tonight and the one he fell in love with ever since that fateful sparring day.

"Please Y/N, say it back." He panted and you tiredly shook your head, biting at your bottom lip. "I need you to say it out loud."

"I... I-I can't. Reiner, I just ca— HMPH!" He quickly silenced you with another kiss, rejecting the notion.

Why? Why? Why? Why can't you? It didn't make sense nor did it settle well in his stomach. Of course there were things that you could never forgive him for, he was dangerously flawed for the most part but somehow, in some way, he wanted you to see him as redeeming. If you can't, then how can he live with the burden of everything he's done?

Reiner suddenly removed his lips from yours again, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes closed tightly shut as he worked towards his final orgasm. His movements were becoming more erratic until his lower half stilled and once more, you could feel his hot cum spill into your womb, occasionally rutting to push the liquid impossibly deeper. His grunts were broken and airy, as if he had been finally emptied of everything in him.

The two of you were quiet despite the heavy breathing that was unevenly shared. A few minutes later, he slowly started to slide his softened cock out of your achingly raw pussy.

You laid there, used and tired. Reiner didn't move from on top of you and you almost knocked out before small, warm splatters made contact against your chest. You reopened your eyes to see him crying over your body, his lip quivering and his body shaking.

"Why are you...?" You began with a hoarse voice, attempting to sit up.

"Five years."

"What?"

"I have five years left," For some reason, your blood ran cold and your heart sank down to your stomach. "It's a Titan inheritor thing. Whoever receives any of the Nine Titans has thirteen years to live."

Reiner looked at you, trying to wipe away his tears with a short laugh. "I know you won't forgive me, I wouldn't either. I'm just another devil that couldn't keep his hands or eyes to himself, and I'm a shameless traitor for bringing you here but Y/N..."

His hand reached over and caressed your cheek slowly, just like he did when he brought you over to Marley. "I really do love you. No matter what, my very heart and soul belongs to you. Do what you want to me but nothing — nothing — about how I feel towards you will ever change."

Tears of your own started to trail down your cheeks, your head shaking slowly. Why were you crying? Isn't that what you wanted? It's strange, feeling this new moderation towards him. No matter how much you pushed him away or attempted to kill him, he took the pain. Was it because he knew how little time he had left? Yet on the same side of the coin, was he lying in order for you to feel bad about his situation?

You don't know. For the first time, you've never felt so unsure of yourself. It should be final, you should've only felt complete hate for this man but...

"Say something, anything." Reiner put his hands on your shoulders, his grip tightening as he shakily spoke.

"Hit me, choke me, spit at me. I'm a selfish monster, I ruined everything for you."

Fear. You've seen such an expression on his face before, when you knocked him out with the pills and when he almost lost you to that Titan. Yet something about this face of his made you feel indifferent, guilty even. You realize now that it wasn't a suitable look for him.

"Yeah, you did ruin everything." You quietly replied, completely sitting yourself up and moving towards him cautiously.

"My home, my family, my dreams of becoming a proud soldier in the Survey Corps. All of those things, you took them away from me." Taking his head into your hands, you started to wipe the tears away from his face. He looked stunned as you began to slowly climb on top of him, your dripping pussy rubbing steadily against his partially-hard cock, belly half swollen with his cum.

"Maybe I still hate you for that Reiner and I'll spit on your grave when it comes to it, but there's one thing I can't deny." You airily giggled as you lined yourself up once his cock hardened.

"I love the way you fuck me."

His knuckles turned white as you lowered yourself down, completely sheathing him inside you. His face softened in pleasure as you began to ride him; ah yes, this is what you liked to see. Your legs were shaking like no other but the pleased smile you had on your face was unwavering.

"If you make me cum enough times, I might just say that I love you too."

Reiner's hands immediately latched onto your bruised hips, a similar grin growing on his face. He's got you right where he wanted you. You may think you had always had the upper hand till now, but he's not stupid. Getting you addicted to the feeling of his cock was the first step, next was you getting comfortable with the idea of having his kids. Well, you could already be halfway there from the way you were slamming your hips down into his.

He buried his face into your neck, his canines dragging against the marked skin as you bounced yourself on his length. Though what he said about his short lifespan was true, he'll spend it fucking you stupid, until you can really mean your 'I love you's'.

The devil he couldn't resist from the land of hell. You were his and he was yours.

Forever and more, till the end of time.

#tw: yandere #tw: gore #tw: violence #tw: minor character death #tw: kidnapping #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #yandere #yandere attack on titan #yandere aot #yandere shingeki no kyojin #yandere reiner braun #yandere reiner #yandere x female reader #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere imagines #attack on titan imagines #shingeki no kyojin imagines #reiner braun #reiner braun x reader #reader insert #fem reader

[elleashling]

“otherwise you’ll be aaaaaall alone in prison.”

:::::

i love tcoaal it makes me deeply uncomfortable i want to dissect it .

a little unsatisfied with text bubble proportions but thats ok they were an afterthought

why does little leyley dress better than me

i like this game 👍

#the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves #ashley graves #tcoaal #tw minor character death #tw minor injury #p sure i will be making more art of them at some point #wanna draw julia too her design is cute

[captainhysunstuff]

@unofficial-deathnotetober 2023 Day 8: Minor Character

I still hate that bratty kid from L's Monster Speech clip. Linda does, too.

#it's late I'm sorry #but I had to do something #unofficial deathnotetober #2023 #minor character #drawn by me #my fancomic #Death Note #Death Note: Re:light #Wammy's House #Linda #Monster Speech Kid (Terry) #L #tw: language #slight character bashing (not that it's not deserved in my opinion lol)