#nobody will ever understand the shriek i let out upon seeing him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minyoongees · 3 years

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comethru || myg

✧ pairing: manager!yoongi x worker!reader

✧ genre: slight angst? hurt/comfort, pathetic attempt at crack, barely there fluff

✧ word count: 2k

✧ summary: Yoongi saves you from heinous karens

✧ snip: "We have a coupon for a free meal at your restaurant and we demand you open it right now!!" this bitch—

✧ warnings: karens, oc gets all panicky, bubbling anxiety, rude af people, unhealthy relations with parents, unrequited love? (oc doesn’t really know)

This fic was genuinely fun to write! I know I did not do a very good job on this it’s lengthy with useless info but it just felt important. Let me know what you think of this!

Also, the title is inspired by Jeremy Zucker's comethru

As a new worker in a big restaurant, there are a few words one could dread to hear. For example, 'You're fired' sounds horrifying, gut wrenching, all your student loans flash before your eyes. It's scary, yes, but it's not as dreadful as the infamous —

"Can I see your manager?"

"Ma'am I already told you the restaurant opens at 11:30 am, and none of the staff arrives before 11, but I'd be happy to serve you at 11:30" you assured.

BANG!

One of the three ladies with a blonde bob cut hit at the door again.

"We don't talk to low class workers, call your manager!" Called out another from the group while the bangs continued. It was so loud you were almost afraid that they will tear this place down.

"Because of the unavailability of the manager, a low class worker is all you'll have to speak to for now," you spat, "but I'd be happiest if you don't speak to me at all"

Numerous loud gasps were heard. If the head chef heard you talking like this, you'll be out of the restaurant sooner than these karens can call your manager.

"HOW DARE YOU TALK LIKE THAT TO A CUSTOMER???"

"Ma'am since you have not walked into the restaurant yet, you are not our customer." you tried to explain, "The restaurant opens at 11:30 ma'am which is just in an hour and a half, I suggest you wait outside on one of the tables."

Even though it was kinda against the rules to sit on the tables unless you eat at the restaurant, but you desperately needed to get rid of the situation. The restaurant didn't even open yet, so what could be the big deal about them sitting on the benches outside. You were just hoping your manager would be understanding.

Anticipating another harsh string of words from them, the total silence that hit you surprised you. You pulled the blinds lower and peeked through them. The ladies were seated on the chairs outside, looking through their phones. Even though a bit shocked that they decided to do what you asked so easily, you didn't wanna jinx it. You thanked your lucky stars and moved on to getting the coffee machine started.

The day hasn't even started yet and the karens are here to disrupt the place already. Being the newbie, you have to come early to get this place started and on top of that, people like them are making it even harder. You clearly don't get paid enough for this.

Moving on to wiping all the tables, you were wishing that when your manger arrives, he'll understand the situation. To come to think of it, he's actually a good man and been nothing but nice to you since you joined here a month ago. He even covered up for you when you broke a plate. Another time he took the blame upon himself when you put a bit too much salt in of the dishes and a few people left unsatisfied. He's been sheltering you ever since you joined here and you've been enjoying this more than you should. Yet you still can't help but hope he handles it this time too and saves you from these heinous Karens.

brrring brrring brrring!!

The sounds catches you off guard not because of it's sudden penetration into the too good to be true silence, but because it shouldn't be ringing when it's the restaurant's hours closed. Nevertheless against your better judgement you pick it up and place the receiver between your ear and shoulder.

"Thanks for calling the Nile's! My name is y/n, how can I help you today?"

"We have a coupon for a free meal at your restaurant and we demand you open it right now!!"

this bitch—

"Ma'am as I explained already, the restaurant opens at 11:30 and if you walk in by then, I'll be happy to serve you and make use of your coupons too." Is it too early to quit?

"Am I talking to the manager?" she asked penetratingly.

"The manager is not here yet, but as soon as he arrives, I'll make sure you're the first person he talks to." you tried calmly hoping it would help.

The woman on the line took a deep breath but nothing could prepare you for the coming onslaught of distress.

"Missy you've been saying this to us since the morning and yet your manager isn't here. You should not open a restaurant when you do not know how to run it.”

She was so loud you couldn't even hear yourself losing the will to live.

"You do not know my husband. If he gets to know about the way you've treated me today, your restaurant will be closed forever." She threatened and you could hear her talking from the outside. Did she know that you did not own the restaurant?? "You should be grateful to me for not telling. Now open this damn door RIGHT NOW!!”

Another round of bangs started ringing and it echoed through the walls. They seemed louder than you know they should've been. And it was the trigger. The helplessness of the situation created panic. Your eyes unfocused, your stomach churned and your heartbeat escalated. You felt trapped.

Her shrill sound coming from the phone felt like it was piercing your ear drums and you could no longer understand what she was saying. So you slammed the receiver back into place, not knowing what to do anymore.

The grip on the cloth between your fingers seemed weak. You have always been a strong woman, dealing with irrational people all your life since you spent most of it around such people. But the karens have been tormenting you since the past 30 minutes and it was bound to get to you, sooner or later. Though you'd hoped for later rather than sooner. They way they started banging on the door while demanding something from you seemed so familiar to the way your parents banged on your bedroom door when you locked yourself in to save yourself from them.

Anywho, the situation is delayed for now and you have to calm down and start working again or you won't be done till the rest of the staff comes around. You don't know till when you'll be living under Yoongi's shadows and he'll be protecting you.

You put your hands on your face and let out a deep breath. Back to work bitches.

You started wiping the tables again, trying to think about something else. That 'something else' had a lot of options for you like, how are you going to repay your student loan that you took to go to college and didn't even help you land a decent job, or how your mom has been pestering you since months to get married and you haven't the found the best way to tell her yet that you wanna focus on your career for now and become a chef, or... well let's just say you had better things to worry about. But your train off thoughts was cut short when the phone rang again.

You already knew who was calling, so you decided against picking up. The ear splitting sound of the phone again echoed through the walls and it made you want to throw the phone against a wall. You know the restaurant phones should be loud enough to be heard by the staff even when the place is busy, but it did not help with the way it was making you feel.

After what seemed like forever, it stopped ringing and you went on to work again. The phone rang several times after that and with each ring, you felt your patience slipping farther away from you. You had half the mind to pick up the phone and tell them off, but you knew it would only anger them further. Yet you couldn't let this go on so after at least a dozen calls, you decided to pick it up.

"Thanks for calling at the Nile's! My name is y/n how can I help you today?" you spoke through a sigh.

"I'VE BEEN CALLING AT THIS DAMN RESTAURANT SINCE THE PAST 2 HOURS AND NOBODY HAS PICKED IT UP." she bellowed. If you thought she was loud and shrill earlier, you would change your mind now. Also, 2 hours????? you weren’t even here 2 hours ago!

"I HAVE GOT ALL THAT YOU HAVE DONE ON MY PHONE AND I WILL POST THIS ALL ON FACEBOOK THE WAY YOU HAVE TREATED ME IS NOT AT ALL A WAY TO TREAT A CUSTOMER." she didn't even pause for a breath "WAIT TILL MY HUSBAND HEARS ABOUT THIS."

You didn't dare say anything for the fear that anything that may come out of your mouth right now, may anger her further, considering, you were not the manager she hoped to talk to.

There was small hustle on the other end. You could hear the ladies outside arguing a little. After a short pause, someone spoke again.

"Am I talking to manager?" this was not the woman who yelled at you earlier but someone else.

"Yes you are, ma'am"

You let out a small shriek. Surprised to see the receiver that was in your hands a moment ago, placed against Yoongi's ear. When the hell did he get here and how did you not even realize?? Even so, a strange feeling of safety filled up your chest at the sight of him and you felt like you could breath again.

"No ma'am, we cannot do that for you. As y/n here explained to you, the restaurant opens at 11:30 and no exceptions will be made for anyone." he explained calmly and it had you hoping that they'd listen to him if not you.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience caused to you ma'am."

You just stood being a witness to one side of the conversation. You could hear someone talking outside the restaurant as well, but couldn't make out their exact words.

You admired his calm even in such a patronizing situation. At least to you, it was that way. In your eyes, he seemed so serene, his lips moved to utter the most calming sounds and you felt like you'd hand over your life to him if he asked you for it.

You really needed to practice professional work ethics when it came to him.

"Yes we will take care of this in the future, thank you for your suggestion."

"Ma'am we do not accept any kind of coupons for any of the meals provided here. Are you sure it is the same restaurant?"

Wait. But we do accept coupons here at the Nile's...

"No ma'am we cannot do that for you. There is no such policy, and we do not accept coupons."

"You can totally go ahead and call the police for yourself and we'll be sure to tell them how have harassed one of our workers over here." He said in an unbothered tone, gaze floating to you and you strangely found yourself looking away.

"Sure thing. Thank you for calling!"

And he placed the receiver back, as if job accomplished.

"Are you okay y/n?" He questioned. In his deep eyes, you saw genuine concern for yourself and you wanted to stay there for some while more. His voice was music to your ears and you did not want your own voice to taint the air around.

But he asked you something.

"Yeah." you said breathlessly and cleared your throat. "Yes, I'm fine, thanks for the help Yoongi"

It was something he insisted you call him even though the rules say he is your senior and should be addressed as so.

"Such people are so irritating and do not deserve to be let out of their homes. What kind of a husband would it be, huh!" he wondered, "though I question if there is any husband at all or she was just bluffing."

"Yeah I know right?" you didn't know what to say. "Though it was really impressive the way you handled them, I could never!"

He laughed at that. Sounded so heavenly, your knees kind of gave out.

And it was another day when he saved you. Why does he do that for you? Why was he here here so early? Why does he even try to get to close to you?

These are questions you do not have the answers to yet. You hope to get them someday. But you are happy they you are right now. Or maybe you are too afraid that the answers to these questions wouldn't be what you'd like to hear. Maybe he was just being nice and you being a horndog took the hint wrong way.

But for now, you have all the time (45 mins max before some other employee comes) to enjoy this moment with him alone in the closed restaurant, surrounded by the smell of food and his cologne and you have no idea which you like better. You wouldn't have it any other way.

masterlist | fin.

#yoongi #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenario #yoongi sfw #manager yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoonfi hurt/comfort #yoongi angst #yoongi fic

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Barrage

For @whumptober2021 day 3: taunting | insults | “Who did this to you?”

CW: War whump, WWI, dehumanization, vampire whumpee, degrading language, negative/panic stimming due to sensory overload, casual ableism (it’s not intended as such, but effectively is), period-appropriate xenophobia, implied future loss of limb, brief religious talk at end

1918, the Western Front of World War One

If he’s screaming, he can’t hear himself over the sounds of the artillery.

Shells fly through the air with the only warning a high whistle before they burst apart in blasts that shake the trenches like an infant with a rattle, knocking free dirt from the sides of the trenches.

It drifts down to land on his shoulders, settling over the hands he has over his head. His palms press against his ears and it does nothing, absolutely nothing. There are tears in his eyes, fear bleeding pink into mud that simply turns darker, seeing no difference between vampiric saltwater and blood.

Not that there is much of a difference, really.

His mouth is wide open against the ground, throat taut, lungs tight with the expulsion of air but the vibration of sound in his throat is so overwhelmed by the rumbling of the earth and the barrage slamming into the ground around him that he can’t feel if he’s making any sounds or not.

If he had a beating heart it would be pounding, but it lays still in his chest, locked in the final heartbeat he’d had more than a decade before.

That he is already dead never quite undoes the visceral horror of sounds too loud for a human mind to understand, destruction too total and complete. The part of him that is still human shrieks at him to run, but there isn’t anywhere to go.

The barrage is everywhere, it’s in everything. The trees blast apart above their heads, branches and fragments of bark and leaves rain down into the trench.

The other men hunker down, trying not to look directly up, each of them with eyes closed or staring off into space, flinching now and then, hands trembling so hard their rifles rattle. There’s no point in moving - the shells will find them if they so much as pop up over the bags. All they can do is wait, and wait, and hear the sounds without knowing which come from their own side and which from the enemy.

In a moment like this, the human body knows only terror, and there is nowhere to run to escape it.

Finally, the sounds start to die off. A final whistle, a single explosion, and then everything falls silent.

Not that the vampire boy can tell, not at first.

His ears keep ringing, painful noise that is inside him and not without. He slowly pulls his hands off from his ears and pushes up to his knees, shuddering, rocking back and forth in an attempt to soothe his nerves. He can feel, now, the vibration in his throat. He can’t hear himself but he must be humming, low and tuneless, trying to drown out the panic.

Once the shells have finished, the gunfire begins.

“Here they come! Steady aim, boys, the Krauts are on us!”

The sound of the soldier’s voice seems tinny and small, so distant, trapped behind the ringing in Tristan’s ears. He screams himself, into the mud beneath him. Someone races past, stopping briefly to pat his head. If they speak, he can’t hear them over the shrieking noise inside his mind.

Short reports break through the air like thrown knives, the soldiers in the trenches alongside him popping briefly up from behind their protective shield of sandbags to fire on the German infantry who come out of the shell-smoke like a swell of horrible phantoms.

They fall, they cry out, they hit the ground.

Sometimes the Americans let out a cry themselves, someone is fired upon and falls. Someone else yells in fierce victory. Someone shouts a curse.

He hears a man shout, “I won’t die today!” and hopes it’s true.

Tristan loses time, shivering compulsively and curling into himself, humming and rocking until the ringing finally starts to die down. Longer, still, as long as the rifles continue to fire. He hears a wild, high-pitched cry, and glances up to see a German with a bayonet through him drop to his knees and then fall into the trench, landing less than three feet away.

The man’s probably dead before he hits, but Tristan still screams and pushes back, scrambling until his back hits the wall. His knees are damp from the mud he’s curled up in and he doesn’t care, he’s never cared. All that matters is finding some small hint of peace.

It seems like an eternity before even the gunfire starts to go quiet.

There’s a voice that calls, but he can’t care enough to let the sounds filter into understandable words. He smacks his hands into the mud, again and again, pushing himself forward and back, finally leaning down to knock his head into the ground, over and over. Each contact with solidity is a soothing rush, slowly working its way down his spine and through his muscles, reminding him that the noise is gone, the noise is over.

The voice calls again.

There’s no more guns firing, no more shells. The world settles into an awful heavy silence that is nearly worse than the sounds. They’re in the middle of a forest more vast than any Tristan has ever seen before, and there are no birds, because there are no more trees for the birds to live in.

Only the doughboys and the enemy, everyone the walking dead. They’re as dead as Tristan is, their bodies just haven’t figured it out yet. And they won’t get back up when they fall.

The vampire keeps knocking his head into the ground. It helps to stop his thoughts from spinning and swirling in a mad spiral inside.

It doesn’t help enough.

He’s brought back to himself by a kick, a fellow soldier’s boot knocking hard into his hip and sending him onto his side. He grunts and looks up, squinting. The German soldier’s corpse is gone - they’ve moved it while he was locked within himself, within his terror. The sky above them has a sickly glow beneath heavy clouds brought on by smoke from the fires and explosion.

The soft sound of distant wounded calling for help filters into his understanding.

The soldier that kicked him, Kirk, gives him a grin. The man’s face is streaked with mud, dark with it, and only his teeth and his eyes show white. “Hey, medic. Didn’t you hear the officers?”

Tristan looks up at him, and slowly shakes his head. His ears ring, a little, but all their ears ring. They’re all shouting just to be heard.

“Huh. Well, trench got blown apart off to the east. It’s your time to do what you do best, fangs. Go sniff out the ones we can save.” Kirk grins. “Like a fucking dog.”

The vampire closes his eyes, shuddering, looking away, shaking his head more in denial than in real refusal. It feels like the shells are still breaking apart inside him, shuddering rumbles inside his nerves now, not up in the sky. His whole body shakes. “I, I, I c-c-can’t, can’t, I-... I c-can’t go, go up there, c-can’t-”

“Doesn’t matter what you wanna do or not, bloodfuck. You think any of us would be here if anyone important gave a damn about our feelings? Gotta earn your bloodbags, don’t you? Get up there with the dogs where you fucking belong. ”

The other soldiers laugh as Kirk kicks him again. Their laughter isn’t even mean, exactly, but carries an edge of hysteria. It’s a release of tension after the barrage for them, after the gunfire, after the loss or three or four of their own, listening to how Kirk talks to him. It makes them all feel better, reminds them they’re still alive by reminding them that the vampire isn’t.

And, for whatever it is worth, it seems they’ve held the line.

To Tristan’s mind, a bit of land doesn’t seem worth what they are being asked to suffer.

He uncurls himself slowly, his bones aching in protest of his movements, his body begging him not to show himself above the bags, to be potentially seen by a German sniper just waiting for the American soldiers to pop up thinking it’s all over and make excellent little targets.

The vampire reaches out with a trembling hand to pick up his helmet where it’s been discarded beside him, stuffing his hair up underneath as he pulls it on. He tries to buckle it, but he keeps dropping the straps. His fingers won’t close, they’ll only shake.

Kirk finally huffs a sigh and leans forward, grabbing him by one arm and yanking him over, taking the straps in hand and doing the buckle himself, jerking it too tight until the vampire whimpers at the pinch. “You’re fucking useless, bloodsucker. Go on. Serve your fucking country, like the rest of us. We’ll see you later. Hey. We made it, huh? This time we keep breathing. Well, we keep breathing, anyways. You keep… uh, whatever it is you do.”

The vampire nods, slowly, eyes searching Kirk’s for some hint of something other than his hatred.

For the first time since they were shipped out, Kirk’s expression does soften.

Just a little bit.

“Come on, bloodfuck.” He says the insulting name almost like an endearment. “Don’t look like that. You’ll be all right,” He says, voice low, giving the vampire’s chin a playful little shake. “It’s just the artillery, just a little scrap. They brought out their big guns, and look at us, we still got our limbs, ain’t we? You still got those chompers. Hell, none of us wet ourselves this time, so we’re doing a sight better than last time.”

The other soldiers chuckle, a little. Someone mumbles, “That was once.”

“Oh, hush it, Fallows, nobody looks down on you for it, everybody’s a bit crackers the first time they get shelled.”

“Yeah, Fallows, we’ve all been there.”

“Listen, after my first time it took me three weeks to go to the latrine without a buddy just in case, you’re all right.”

The soldier who must be Fallows shifts, but he half-smiles, a little, comforted by the camaraderie around him. Tristan’s heart hurts, wishing he could be part of it, not kept apart by the curse in his blood.

A different soldier - Tristan thinks the man’s name is Davies - pulls out a canteen of what is probably supposed to be water and almost certainly isn’t. The American army doesn’t imbibe, officially, but Tristan’s never seen an officer who didn’t look the other way after a battle if his men needed liquid courage to make it to the next one.

“I, I, I’m scared,” The vampire whispers. A tear trickles down the cleared path along the dirt in his face, following the trails of those he’s cried before. Kirk looks at him and rubs his thumb over the vampire’s high cheekbone, smearing dirt back over. Like trying to fill in a dried riverbank. “I’m, um, sc-scared of the sounds, Kirk.”

“So’re the rest of us. Fritz never does it halfway, does he? I get you. We’re still here, for now.” Kirk pats the side of the vampire’s face, almost gently, and then pushes him backwards with a sudden resurgence of his usual careless violence. “Now go find the crump-hole Fritz made of the others and pull out the wounded.”

He has to do this. It’s his job, and it’s the only reason he hasn’t been staked out like the ones who refused to go willingly. The vampire swallows, nodding slowly, and turns away. He has to jog down the narrow line of the trench, past rows of soldiers who watch him with dulled eyes that stare far, far past him. Twice he pops his head up, just for a second, to get a better look at where he should go.

Ahead of him, the No Man’s Land stretches. It’s a hellscape, cratered and with any hint of greenery long gone. A morass of mud and the still-standing stump of the occasional tree. There are dead men out there, he can smell them. Some new dead, mostly old, the ones that aren’t worth pulling back behind the lines, not yet. Some wounded men who call for water, for help, but who mostly call for their mothers.

Tristan would call for his, too, if he thought it would help.

There’s dead Germans out there, he can see their uniforms on the prone, still bodies. Some of their wounded cry mama, mutti, mutterchen. A few cry papa, vaterchen. Tristan has seen enough dead - some by his own hand, though he never wanted to kill anyone, William didn’t tell him how not to and he had to find that out on his own - to know that nearly everyone, at the end, thinks finally of who they love most.

Someone cries, in a broken voice, “Cady, help me,” and Tristan closes his eyes against the pleading in the sound.

Seems like more Germans than Americans, this time, and he might see some French, too. It’s hard to tell, with the smoke is still rolling over the land.

He hopes they don’t try to gas each other again. It doesn’t affect the vampires, but he’s seen too many men die choking on their own lungs already, he’s ready to never see such a thing ever again.

He sighs, gets back down into the trench, and keeps moving.

The ranks thin out, and he finds himself utterly alone for the last few hundred yards.

There’s a brief burst of gunfire that has him shaking again, flinching and stumbling into a depression underneath the top, where a soldier might sleep at night. The vampire stays there, curled up tight staring in fear, until the gunfire subsides.

Once it fades, he hears the barking.

Ambulance dogs.

“Medics! We have wounded!” A man’s voice cries, rough-edged. “We need help!” Ahead of him, the trench collapses in on itself, blown apart by shells. A soldier’s rifle lays in the mud, bayonet glinting faintly. Next to it, a photograph, a young man and woman standing next to each other, dotted with dirt. The woman has a slight smile on her face, and the young man’s arms are around her waist. They look happy.

The vampire’s throat closes as he looks at it. She’s very pretty, he thinks. She’ll be very sad when she hears that her soldier isn’t coming home. He wishes he had any photographs of his parents.

If he must be damned to never see them again, even in Eternity, it seems doubly unfair that he can’t even find an image of them to remember them by. He’s sure there were photos taken at the island where they were processed, but those photos weren’t for them. They were kept by the men and women who barked orders at the young Tristan and his parents as they went through the line.

“We have living wounded!” The man calls again, much closer, and the vampire jolts back into motion. He picks up the photograph and tucks it into one of the pouches at his waist, next to a small vial of plain alcohol he uses to wash out wounds.

He can see the dogs up top as they dig, paws burying themselves with incredible speed in loosened mud as their handlers move next to them, encouraging them. Every dog wears a big white square patch with a cross on each side, marking them as ambulance dogs. The vampire has a patch on his left arm like that, marked with a cross for medic - and a V to make sure he is always known for what he is by anyone who sees him.

As if the fangs don’t give him away. As if the way his eyes look in the darkness isn’t a clue all its own.

There’s a high-pitched bark and a shout of triumph, and the vampire looks up and sees a man so covered in dirt he seems less human than golem being helped to his feet. He’s miraculously uninjured except for having been half-buried in mud.

“Let’s go, soldier,” The dog’s handler says, and then moves quickly away. The soldier follows him, shuffling more than walking, staring around in amazement that he’s still alive.

The Germans could fire again at any moment, of course, and the vampire finds himself frozen, staring up into the yellow-tinged dark sky. There’s a low rumble, a whistle and boom, and he flinches before he realizes the sound is so distant that it must mean shelling much further down the line than he is.

That doesn’t mean what they’re doing is safe.

He’s still staring up at the sky, waiting for the barrage to begin again, when something closes tight around his wrist and he jolts to the side with a cry of shock and fear.

It’s a hand.

A hand, reaching out from the mud. Dirt is ground into every knuckle, under the torn fingernails, into the callouses worn into the pads of his fingers. The hand grasps wildly, blindly, trying to find anything to hold onto.

There’s a living man buried under the mud.

The vampire has to work his throat to find his voice, and when he does he cries out, “We, we, we have living wounded! Living wounded! B-buried, buried, help! I need help!”

There’s a flurry of movement as the vampire lurches forward, gripping onto the hand and digging with his other, trying to give the man who must be in there some reassurance that he is felt, seen, found.

Trying to give him some air before whatever he’s got runs out.

One of the other medics hops down and lands roughly on their feet next to him. It’s another vampire, one that Tristan has never seen before. They’re older-seeming, with straggly long dark-blond hair barely held back in a plait down their back. The vampires aren’t usually allowed to speak to one another for fear that they’d plan some sort of mutiny, and so the other medic is silent other than a soft grunt, digging into the dirt with their bare hands with inhuman rapidity, uncaring for the possibility of injuries because they simply cannot hurt their muscles any longer.

Tristan feels the hand he’s holding squeeze and he gives two squeezes in return. We’ve got you, just hold on, hold your breath, just a little longer.

Eventually the frantic work of the other medic reveals dirtied blond hair, helmet-less, marked with mud and blood in equal measure from a cut they can see as the man’s forehead is revealed. Then his eyes open wide and very blue, he gasps in air.

“Pl-please,” He manages, his voice a rasp. “Please, help me-”

Tristan exhales an unnecessary breath in relief, and smiles. “Hold, hold, hold on, hold on, we’ve got you, soldier.”

The man sees his fangs but he’s too full of the rush of adrenaline at the prospect that he has been saved from suffocation to be scared of them. Instead he starts to cry, weeping and holding onto Tristan with a bone-crushing grip.

The other medic hisses as they dig in and find a dead soldier on top of the living one. This one has the telltale slightly-open eyes of someone long gone, body still warm. There’s an awful caved-in look to one side of his head that Tristan refuses to allow himself to see. “Must have protected him that way,” The vampire notes, coldly informative, uncaring. “Dead took the brunt of the blows. One lucky man, one unlucky one. Flip of a coin, living or dying.” They sound like they don’t care at all.

Tristan wonders how long they’ve been a medic. If they maybe felt more at the beginning.

The smell of blood moves through the air like a bubbling stew, making Tristan’s mouth water. He holds back as best he can, pulling to help dislodge the survivor from the dirt his compatriots have died in.

Some of them still haven’t yet - the vampires can scent the difference between dead and living, and there are more soldiers still breathing under the rubble. He can smell that some are so wounded they won’t last long. Others, though, they’ll get out in time.

Tristan doesn’t look at the slack expression of the dead soldier whose body kept this one alive as he is revealed. The survivor comes free - first his shoulders, then his arms come up to grip tightly around Tristan’s waist. His torso is revealed, his hips…

It’s only when they finally get him fully freed, laying on the ground, that Tristan realizes one of his legs is… wrong. Bent wrong, nearly blasted off. He swallows at the sight.

“We, we, we need a stretcher,” Tristan says, frowning. The soldier groans, as if only now beginning to feel the pain of the shattered bones from his thigh down to his foot. “He, he, he can’t walk. He’s gonna lose the, um, the the the leg.”

“God, no,” The soldier pleads to no one in particular. “Please, no, not my leg…”

“Hush. Better that than your eyes or your face, mouthbreather.” The other vampire launches themself at the side of the trench, clambering back up - only for there to be a sudden burst of new gunfire, and Tristan stares up in panic as the vampire’s body jolts as three bullets pass through them.

They stumble backwards, briefly, then bare their fangs in the direction the gunfire came from and hold up their hands with middle fingers raised high above their head. They give a loud, half-mad trill of laughter.

“Have at it, Huns, I’m already dead!”

Then they turn on their heels, moving at a rapid jog towards the medical tents nearby. There are bullet holes in the back of their uniform, new fresh ones alongside several that have already been patched up from earlier hits.

“Please, I have to-... have to go home,” The survivor of the bombardment says in a whisper, and Tristan turns back to him, nodding slowly. The man’s face is pinched with agony, but… but he’s familiar. “I can’t die here, fangs. I can’t.”

“Don’t, um, don’t don’t don’t worry… you’ll go home, you will.” He doesn’t know that, not really, but it’s what every soldier wants to hear, and the doughboy beside him lets out a breath of relief and smiles, a little, trusting him. Tristan hitches in a breath, and digs into his belt-bag, pulling the photograph out. It’s the same young man as the subject of the photo, his sweetheart next to him. Maybe she’ll see him again after all.

He holds it out. He sees the soldier blink, struggling to focus.

Tristan clears his throat. “I, I, I… um, I found this.”

The soldier grabs it with his free hand and gives a hysterical, relieved laugh, pulling it to his lips and giving it a kiss. “Marta,” he breathes. “Oh… thank you, fangs. Thanks for finding it.” he looks up at Tristan with a bright smile, teeth seeming terribly white in his dirt-coated face.

They are so rarely kind to him, the soldiers.

The vampire closes his eyes against a new rush of tears. He whispers, “Look, look, look at the, the, the photo for just a moment for me,” and lifts the soldier’s wrist to his mouth. The soldier knows the score - he doesn’t even go tense. He's probably been bitten a few times before.

When the vampire sinks his teeth in, it’s as gentle as possible. He takes little blood, only pushes venom into the wounds until the soldier’s body goes limp and relaxed, his eyes still locked on the photo of the woman he wishes badly to go home to.

“Tell, tell, tell me, um, about… about, about Marta,” The vampire says, glancing up. He can hear further shouting. The other vampire’s voice, which means help is on the way. “While we wait for the stretcher.”

The soldier’s eyes drift shut.

“She’s… she’s nineteen. Preacher’s daughter, her ma and two sisters died from the flu this year. She’s got four little brothers who made it, though. We were married just before I was sent to basic training, last fall… Hey.” The soldier looks right at him, meets his eyes. “What’s your name, fangs?”

No one ever asks him that.

He blinks once, twice, three times. “What?”

“Your name. What can I call you?”

“Uh, Tristan, um, Medical, um, Un-dead Medical Private Tristan Higgs.”

“Huh. I’m Dennis. Just… I don’t care for all the titles we get. Just say Dennis. Tired of bein’ called by what I am and not who.”

He nearly laughs. He knows the feeling. “Nice, um, nice to meet you, Den, Dennis.”

“You, too, Tristan. You’re Irish, right?”

Tristan nods, a little, his smile widening slightly. “Was. Been in New York since, ah, before the turning of the, um, the the century.”

“Were you a vampire when you came here?”

Tristan swallows, looking away. “No.”

“Oh.” Dennis falls silent, for a moment, then squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to bring on bad memories.”

“That’s, um, that’s all right.” Tristan settles onto the muddy ground, with the body of the soldier who didn’t make it visible in the dug-out part of the cave-in, and listens. The other soldier, he thinks, likely would have his own people waiting for him, who now must be told the terrible news - but this man, Dennis, he’ll go home to his Marta, one-legged but alive.

Dennis never lets go of his hand.

Whenever his face starts to show his pain again, Tristan lifts the man’s wrist back to his mouth, fills him with venom again, and asks him more questions about home.

Dennis thanks him for it, every time.

He says Tristan reminds him of his own brother, who’s still back home working the dairy farm he grew up on. “He’s always been better with the cows than people, anyway. He’d hate all this racket,” Dennis murmurs.

“I, I, I hate it, too.” Tristan smiles, just a little. “I’d say you, um, you get used to it, but…”

“You don’t,” Dennis says, heavily.

“Right. You… no, um, you don’t.”

Tristan hopes Dennis gets to go home to his pretty Marta, his brother and the cows, and never come back to this hell the rest of them are trapped in until its bitter end. He hopes, deeper than that and in a secret place within himself, that he will redeem some of the damnation of what he was turned into by doing as much good as he can while he’s here.

He can’t go home.

Home is people, not a place, and his are long, long gone.

But maybe if he suffers for the good of the living, he’ll be seen as redeemed enough by God and His angels to be allowed to see his mother and father again.

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @pretty-face-breaker @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Rock N Roll People In A Disco World

Part 5- Nobody Dance On A Sad Disco

Intro: Paul doesn’t react well when your logical and practical side suggests you postpone your wedding…

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Word Count: 7k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 4

"I just don't understand why you think this is such a big frickin' deal, Paul." You said with exasperation. This argument had been carrying on for a good twenty minutes and so far, the only thing you'd accomplished was going in circles like a NASCAR driver.

“You don’t understand?” He scoffed, hands on his hips, “seriously? You don’t see why I’m slightly pissed off you wanna postpone our wedding?” "You can't continue to tell me that not pushing everything back a few months makes the most sense right now. In a month’s time we were supposed to be going away for our stags, and since..... since... you.... This is just what's better for..."

"Y/N, you do still want to get married don't you?" He interrupted. The strain in his voice was evident from both use and emotion.

"What kind of fucking question is that?" Now you were raging. The absolute audacity of him to even ask that. “Well it's non-rhetorical.” “Of course I still want to get married, you fucking moron!” You growled. "Then explain to me wh.." his voice cracked out and he breathed harshly through his nose. “That!” You gestured to him. “That is why!” "So it hurts a little, it's fine. For fucks sakes, I'm fine," his voice was entirely strained from arguing, his chords stretch to their limit. “No, you’re not.” You shook your head before you took a deep breath and pinched your nose. “Paul, I want our wedding to be a day we both look back on in years, decades even, to come and still love every minute of it...” "And we will!" “Right, okay, so your voice fails during our vows or your speech and you’re gonna be okay with that, huh?” You put your hands to your hips and waited for his reply. "No. I mean, I don't know." "My point exactly." You flung a hand up in his direction. “But it’s another eight weeks off, plenty of time, I might be fine.” He shrugged you off like he could make it happen. You knew it wasn't possible. It had only been a week since he'd said your sweet nickname as clear as day and while more and more words were stronger and phrases longer and more clear, you knew him better than that and you knew he wasn't ready no matter how much he wanted to pissingly argue with you that the two of you could move forward as if his shooting were nothing.

"Might. Key word." You sighed, clearly frustrated to the point of tears as they welled and stung your eyes. “Okay, fine.” His hands flew out to his side. “Have it your way, call the venue and cancel.” Gritting your teeth, you replied, “I don’t want to fucking cancel, Paul, I just want to move it!” “You know how long in advance we had to book that place, Y/N, it could be another year before they have an opening again.” “Then we wait another year!” You sighed dramatically, “in the grand scheme of things what does it matter? Today, tomorrow, twelve months, it all amounts to the same thing.” "It matters to me, Y/N." “Okay... fine. Let’s keep the date.” She shrugs. “Let’s just go for it and when you can’t speak and start to get frustrated we’ll write our vows on a pad of paper. Or, better still how about we learn sign language?” “You’re a sarcastic bitch.” “Yeah? And you’re a stubborn asshole.”

There was a long, angry pause between the two of you, harsh jabs and insults now floating painfully in the air. The two of you glared at one another. Both of you furrowing your brows and chewing on the insides of your mouths. Then, you sighed, again with a harsh tone. "God damned it, I hate this. I hate that we’re even having to have this conversation but we are. You were shot! You were moments from death and-“ "And now it's my fault?" He shrieked at a higher pitch than his voice typically was. “Oh for the love of- I didn’t say that!” You balled your hands into fists, your body visibly shaking. “So what are you saying?” “I’m saying that given everything that’s happened, pushing the second biggest day of my life back is the least of my fucking concerns, Paul.” Now you were tearfully arguing, your eyes red as was the tip of your nose. You blinked hard to attempt to show your strength, not wanting to back down. “Second biggest?” “Yes, the second. Because when you...I mean the...” you swallowed back the sob that threatened to scream from you, so you choked in it. “The first was when they told me you were going to live.”

At your words, Paul blinked a little, his mouth opening before it snapped shut again and you shook your head, continuing to talk. “I know you’re hurting and struggling with all of this and it isn’t what you want but it hasn’t been easy for me, either.” You sniffed, the tears now falling from your eyes. “I might not have been the one that took a bullet to the neck but I had to sit there and watch you, barely able to live but fight so hard to stay and all I could think about was the fact I might have to live without you and for that reason alone I’d have changed places with you in a fucking heartbeat.” Your face scrunched up with heavy emotion that you'd held onto for weeks.

“Y/N....” he tried to take a step toward you, but the damage was done for the night. You were done. “Seeing you there, in that bed, wondering if you were gonna make it or not, it was the worse time of my life. So, yeah, frankly I don’t care when we say I do, but it can't happen the way we want it to right now. You’re alive. That’s enough for me. And right now, well it should be for you too.”

You turned on your heel and quickly left the living room. You slammed the bedroom door shut and leaned your back against it whilst you allowed your exterior to fully collapse. You buried your face in your hands as you sobbed. This wasn't what you wanted, you'd expected a better reaction from him as you'd hoped he'd have seen things the same way as you, but you were wrong.

Now, all that was left was to go to bed. You had no fight left, no drive and right now, you didn't want to make up.

Eventually, you crawled into bed and moved no further. Sleep weighing on you heavily.

****

When he'd watched her go, Paul was floored. The things she'd said to him had gone unspoken since he'd been home from the hospital. He knew it had been hard on her, the both of them, what he'd gone through but he'd never imagined how she'd have felt given she was always such a strong woman and that was one of the things he adored most about her.

In frustration, he rubbed his hands over his face and decided he needed a walk. He walked around the neighborhood and back, taking in the cool air, realizing the fall weather was upon them. Shit, fall, the holidays were creeping up on them and he'd hadn't even given it a thought.

It didn't matter, what mattered was the incessant need to push their wedding back another year, was his best guess, and that killed him. It wrecked him and he found himself getting angry all over again. He wanted to marry her now, drag her down to the Justice of the Peace and take her as his bride the minute the courthouse opened. So now, why, all of a sudden did she not want to do even so much as that. Was it cold feet? Was it him? What had happened to him? Was she ashamed of him being unable to speak? She said it was nothing of the sort but it didn't stop the thoughts from weighing on him.

When he got back to their apartment, he found Y/N fast asleep in their bed, her back to his side of the bed. He hated that they were going to bed like this. He didn't believe in it, and if he was honest with himself, this was the first time this had ever happened in the span of their relationship. He was a firm believer in his parents golden rule, never go to bed angry and always kiss each other goodnight. Tonight he didn't get to do either.

With a sigh, he pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it in the direction of the hamper in the corner of the room but it didn’t quite make it. Instead, it dropped about a foot or so away, ironically right on the spot where he’d dropped to one knee that November evening almost three years ago…

She'd stood in the bathroom across the hall getting ready for their dinner date, listening to him chatter on in their bedroom about whatever it was as he dressed for the night. It was mid-week and they'd both managed to be off in time for a dinner date. Paul had wanted to make it fancy, something special.

"Do you know what today is?" He asked as he tied his tie in the mirror that stood in the corner of their room.

"Er, Wednesday," she replied, loud enough for her voice to carry.

"Of course, but try again," there was a hint of humor to his voice, sarcasm at best.

"Date night," she giggled.

"Nope." He breathed out a nervous, shaky breath. A full two strides and he stood in front of their chest of drawers, pulling open his sock drawer, reaching for the small box in the back.

"I give up."

He chuckled anxiously and closed the drawer. "Our anniversary." He took a knee, opening up the small box and waited.

"What? No, that's not for a few more months," she said with a smile as she walked across the hall and into the doorway of their room. Her hands were at her ear, adjusting her earring.

She gasped seeing him on one knee, his eyes smiling but his hands shaking as he held out the ring box. The lid open to show her what he was asking.

"Also true, but no. At exactly this minute, twenty-one months ago," he checked his watch, "I responded to a call for backup and my life changed forever. I met this woman who I just couldn't let go and that same woman took her time in giving me a chance. But I knew from the moment she kissed me that nothing would ever be the same. I fell in love that night, and I knew I wanted to make her mine, to keep on loving her forever. That is, if you'll have me forever?"

He watched as her eyes began to pool with tears as her own shaky hands covered her mouth as he spoke, a nervous silence crossing the room as she seemingly processed everything he'd said.

Tearfully, she replied, "yes, absolutely, yes!"

Tears welled up in his beautiful blue eyes as he stood, and pulled the ring from its box, slipping it on with jittery fingers over the knuckles of her ring finger before he crashed his lips into hers for a deep, happy kiss. "I love you so much, Sugar."

With their foreheads pressed sweetly together, they both cried a little.

"Tell me about it, Stud." She smiled.

They were late to dinner that night, both of them showing up glowing. But his surprises hadn't ended there, no. He'd had both their parents waiting on them for their eight o'clock dinner reservations to celebrate their new good fortune. It was a night he'd never forget, not ever.

Paul glanced down at the ring on his girl’s finger as she slept. Her left hand just close enough to her face so it wasn't obscured as she still lay with her back to him while her right lay tucked up under her pillow. The five raw cut diamonds were set in white gold, a center stone with two diamonds on each side. The center cut wasn't gargantuan and it didn't need to be. She knew how hard he'd worked to buy her the simple design with the small stones it held.

He'd wanted to upgrade it the month he'd solved his first case as a detective but she'd denied him, explaining that it didn't matter how big or fancy it was, the first one was special because of all the thought and effort he'd put forth to even consider her as his wife.

With a sigh he bowed his head and turned to go wash up, before he climbed into bed, Y/N’s back still facing him and he lay awake, looking at the ceiling until finally, an hour or so later, sleep finally took him.

**** The next morning your alarm went off for the first time in weeks. With a groan you hit the button to silence it and cracked open a sore, tear swollen eye, it was still dark outside. You rose, heading on auto-pilot to the bathroom and showered quickly before you wrapped in a robe and headed in to make yourself some breakfast. Just as you were finishing up, Paul walked into the kitchen and you stood up and left the room, not speaking a word to him, you had nothing else to say.

Unfortunately, your bad mood soured what should have been a happy return to work, a sign that your life was getting back to some form of normalcy. Instead, you were off your game, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

"Yo, Panny, you come to work or just fucking off?" Rodriguez hollered from behind you as an entire clip of used bullets lay at your feet, still hot from firing. You slammed your hand against the button that brought your target to you, all but four shots missing the target. "Fuck off, Ro." "Y/L/N!" Captain Rogers shouted from the doorway. "Outside, now." With a grumble, you rolled your eyes and holstered your weapon, but not before changing out the empty clip for a new one. The tone of his voice was not comforting. "You got your ass handed to you on the mats in hand to hand, you couldn't even shoot a decent hand at sniper poker, and now my ace shot, a skilled and decorated marksman, can't sink a suspect in range." Your tongue poked the inside of your cheek as you drew a deep breath. “Sorry Cap, must be a little rusty.” He sighed and shook his head as it dropped disappointingly to his chest. "You're not ready, go home Y/N." "Steve...." "I pushed you too far. Go home, chill the fuck out, take the weekend." You groaned, “I don’t wanna go home.” The petulance evident both in your tone and body language as you folded your arms across your chest. “I'm fine. It's just a rough start." "Go the fuck home, Y/N. Or I'll send the Mrs. after you." You couldn't stand his wife and given your relationship with Steve, it was a credible threat. Karen Rogers was as green as Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West. "I'd call you an asshole but you're my sup so...." "Now, Y/N." “Fine.” You shrugged. “I’ll go back home. Wonderful.” "I didn't miss the sarcasm," Steve called out to your back.

You flipped him the bird as you kept walking.

**** Paul slammed the door to his mom and dad’s house, storming into the kitchen. It had been a shitty morning, with Y/N not speaking to him and then that damned fucking speech and physical therapy he had to endure twice a damned week.

“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” Big Jim looked at him, frowning a little. Paul ignored him and headed straight to the fridge, pulling out a soda.

“Paul, honey, what’s got into you?” Dot asked gently and he sighed, turning to face both his parents who were sat at the bar top, the remnants of a brunch on their plates in front of them. “Y/n wants to postpone the wedding.”

“Ah.” His dad leaned back in his chair. “And let me guess, you don’t?”

“Fuck, no.”

“Language.” His mother chastised and Paul rolled his eyes, as he paced slightly across the kitchen.

“And, you clearly discussed this in your usual, calm and rational manner?” His dad arched an eyebrow. Paul paused for a moment to eye his dad, before he resumed his movements.

With a sigh his mom spoke. “Paul, sit down for a second, quit pacing my kitchen floor.”

“I don’t want to sit down.” He shot back, petulantly.

“Paul Christopher Diskant, you sit your grown butt down, now.” His mother’s tone was sharp and with a groan he pulled a seat out from the breakfast bar, opposite his parents, and flopped down.

“Now, out with it, from the beginning.” His mother instructed and Paul let out another growl of frustration.

“I just told you. She wants to postpone the wedding. I don’t. There’s nothing else to tell you.”

“Don’t sass me!”

“I’m not sassing you, you’re just not fucking listening.”

“Hey, cut the shit. Don't talk to your mother like that.” Big Jim pointed at him, his voice stern. “You might be a grown man but I'll still kick your ass into next week, you little shit.”

Paul took a deep breath, his head hanging slightly. “Sorry Mom. It's been a really crappy couple of days.” At that he snorted. “Crappy couple of weeks one way or another.”

“Oh, Paul. I know it's not been easy.” Dot gave him a gentle smile. “But you're here with us and that's really all we care about.”

“I just feel like Y/N is getting cold feet. And that really sucks.”

“Don't be a dick.” Dot scoffed at his admission of feelings. “That girl has stood by you while you knocked on death's door.” “Mom, did you just call me a dick?” Paul looked at her, his brow raised and she nodded.

“Yes.”

“She’s not wrong.” His dad interjected.

“What is this gang up on Paul day?”

“You’re acting like a spoiled child who just had his best toy taken away.” Big Jim looked at him. “Son, she wants to postpone, not cancel!”

“Well it didn't feel that way last night or this morning. She stormed out for her first day back at work all pissed off I wasn't agreeing with her.”

“And I refer back to my previous observation. Maybe you should have attempted to discuss the issue in a calm and rational manner as opposed to shouting and getting all pissy.” Big Jim observed.

"I’m not pissy, I’m just... look, we've waited twice as long as we wanted to because she loved the venue so much, hell, I loved the venue. That place means a lot to us and it's so perfect. Everything has been perfect until now." He sighed, his voice again weak.

"What was her reasoning?" Dot pressed.

"Me." He said sadly, frustration clearly featured on his face.

"Paul, I highly doubt it's just you."

"She doesn't think I'm ready. Healthy enough. Healed enough. There's till eight weeks, Mom. Eight weeks, I can be so much better by then."

Dot reached across the granite for his hand. He took it, and held tight, like a boy needing his mother.

"My sweet, love sick boy," she softly smirked at him and he rolled his eyes .”Y/N is only thinking about you. She knows how frustrated you get when you struggle to talk and how would you feel if that happened during the vows or speeches? Look, Sweetheart, you’ve waited years for this, what’s another couple of months?”

“Mom, it won’t be a couple of months, there’s no way that place won’t be booked up for at least another year. I just... Is it so bad that I want to marry her right now as we planned?" His voice breaking and cracking. Too much talking.

“No, Son, it's not.” Jim cut in. “But listen to yourself, your struggling to talk now after this conversation. Y/N just wants to have the wedding you both have dreamed of, and spent so much time planning. Don't take that from her or yourself. You'll look back and think, I should have waited, when I was at full strength.”

Diskant looked at his father before he sighed and his shoulders sagged a little. “Seems like I’m out voted.”

"Not out voted, just...." Big Jim couldn't come up with a reasonable example.

But Dot interrupted, "We just think you need to think about this a little more and be open to what's going on."

"Open to what? The fact I’m now not gonna get married for another year coz some asshole shot me in the neck?"

"Paul..."

He shrugged, "Whatever. Guess, I have some rearranging to do."

Automatically, he looked down at his phone and saw that Tom Ludlow was calling. If there were any better time to get off this hamster wheel of an argument it were now. "I gotta take this."

He stepped outside and took his call. An hour later, he was meeting Ludlow at their apartment, fresh bottles of beer in the fridge and two on the coffee table between them.

Ludlow filled him in on exactly what happened after he'd left the scene and Paul behind. He talked about how Biggs was using Ludlow to get to Wander, how Tom had killed his entire unit out of self-defence and in turn discovered all the corrupt shit Captain Wander had on Tom, the unit, multiple officers, judges, councilmen and other local politicians and prominent community leaders. He told Diskant about the stolen money, hidden in the walls of Wander's home and he explained how important Biggs seemed to think Tom was for IA and the department.

It didn't surprise Diskant in the slightest that Ludlow's department was dirty. In fact, he'd half expected it and the realization hit moments before he was shot. The rest of Tom's story however was just insane, insane enough that he joked a movie could be made about it.

That said, Paul trusted Ludlow from the start. And he’d clearly been right about the guy, even if helping him had resulted in him being moments from death. Painful memories aside, it was nice to see him too. They’d been through a lot, but Paul wasn’t dumb enough to figure this was a purely social call. He knew Ludlow felt guilty about what had gone down and that was partly the reason for his visit. But it was misplaced guilt, one Disco was happy to absolve him of.

"Listen, Paul, with what happened, I..."

"Hey, it's okay. Shit happens. I'm alive. I knew what I was getting into, the risks involved. You gave me an out and I didn't take it." His voice rasped a little.

"Felt like I took a kid to a gun fight." Tom sighed, tossed back some of his beer and shook his head with a slight shrug. "But you're one helluva kid. A fucking fighter. You're a good cop, even better detective and I'm sorry I pushed you so far."

“No hard feelings, man.” Disco took a slug of his beer and shook his head as Ludlow made to speak. “I mean it. I knew what I was signing up for the second the call came in. Our jobs are shady as fuck and twice as dangerous.”

“You can say that again.” Ludlow sighed. “Still, what happened was rough, I’m glad you’re through it.”

Disco gave him a smile as they clinked bottles and Ludlow’s eyes scanned the small living room, stopping on the photo on the small shelf above the television. Paul glanced at it, looking at his and Y/N’s smiling faces as they stood in his parent’s back yard, both dressed in casual jeans and t-shirts, taken a few months before he’d been shot. A time when everything had been simpler and his life on track.

“How's the Missus?” Ludlow asked and Paul took a deep breath.

"She's, uh, she's good,” he answered, deciding not to burden Ludlow with details of their argument, “first day back today, getting her ass kicked I'm sure. Rogers told her it was training day."

"That's rough. Rogers is a hard ass.” Ludlow mused before his eyes flicked down to the beer bottle in his hand. “She er, she due back any time soon?"

Paul shrugged, “I wouldn’t expect so. Why you ask?”

“Because I don’t intend to be here when she returns.” Ludlow replied. “She wasn’t very happy to see me last time.”

At that, Paul frowned. “Last time?”

“Did no one tell you I came by the hospital?”

“Well, yeah they mentioned it but-“

“Well your girl packs a mean right hook.” Ludlow ran a hand over his jaw, almost as if he was recalling the punch he was talking about.

“Wait, what? She hit you?” Paul leaned forward, deeply concerned and slightly proud.

Tom nodded, "then said that if you died, I was next."

“Dammed, she’s vicious.” Paul couldn’t help the smirk which flicked onto his face at the thought of his girl landing one on the man sat next on the small armchair opposite him.

But the grin soon faded as it sunk in just how downright upset and distraught she must have been to do that. For all his jokes about her being a hard ass, she wasn’t one to throw punches around for no reason, in fact, given her job, she often did everything she could to avoid altercations in any shape, stating she saw enough of it at work without seeing it in her personal life too.

"Yeah, she is and frightening. But she's got good intentions. I don't fault her. I'd have popped me one too." Ludlow shrugged.

Paul took a deep breath as he pondered what Ludlow had said. His girl had that stupid nickname “Panny” for a reason, nothing much phased her. So for her to be rattled enough to sock Ludlow in the face just goes to show exactly how distraught she had been.

None of that was news to Paul, he knew all of this, and it had been pointed out to him again earlier that day by his parents. And then, in a moment of clarity, he realised that he might be being slightly unreasonable. Whilst logically, a compromise would be to perhaps cancel their current venue and forgo the huge day they had planned and book something smaller and less flashy for a few months down the line, Paul understood that she wanted this to be the best day it could possibly be for both of them. They had fallen in love with the Shutters on the Beach from the start, and had booked it with enough time to save for their dream day, even though they could have done something smaller and been married by now.

But that was a decision they had taken together, and hadn’t taken lightly, understanding that it would mean a long wait until they said “I do”, but that wait would be worth it. So, in the grand scheme of things, whilst he might not completely agree, she was right. Another year or however long made fuck all difference, even if he didn’t necessarily want to postpone, he understood.

And damned, now he felt like a right jerk.

*****

You pulled up to the curb to your duplex and frowned as an unfamiliar black car was parked outside, one you couldn’t recall seeing before. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, resting your head back against the seat as you gave yourself a moment, trying to rid yourself of the frustration of the day.

Rogers was right, you weren't ready to come back. Not yet. Or at least not after the argument you’d had. It frustrated you entirely that this one small thing had spiralled so much as to affect your job. Never, since you'd joined the force, not even since you'd been on S.W.A.T., had you been sent home for misconduct of your behavior. That angered and frustrated you more. And right now, that frustration was leveled firmly at Paul.

You knew he was angry and upset, but so were you. You were thinking logically, wanting your wedding day to be as perfect as it could be for you both, but Paul was blinded by emotion. You understood. Of course you did, it wasn’t like you wanted to postpone, hell you wanted nothing more than to become his wife but it wasn’t worth rushing if it meant that when the time came you could both make those declarations to one another without either of you worrying his voice would give out.

And it irritated you that he couldn’t see that.

Growling out loud and slamming your palms against the wheel, you shook your head. That was when you saw him, you saw the one person you unadmittedly blamed for your mood, your position and your current situation.

"What the... That mother fu..." you stopped yourself, downright pissed at seeing Tom Ludlow leaving your residence.

You waited until Ludlow pulled away before exiting your car, slinging your 'go bag' over your shoulder from the back seat. You didn't miss your fiancé tossing what appeared to be bottles into the recycling bin at the side of the duplex.

He saw you and smiled, but you did nothing to acknowledge his gesture, allowing the screen door to slam behind you.

“Babe?” Paul’s voice called after you as he followed you in. “Sugar, look, I’m sorry-“

“What the fuck was he doing here?” You dropped your bag to the floor of the small hallway and wheeled round to face him.

"What?"

“Don’t play dumb with me! Ludlow, why was he here?” Paul sighed, "He called me while I was at my parents, wanted to come by. We talked for a bit, had a couple of beers and clearly you saw him just leave." There was a pause between you. "Which by the way I heard all about how you decked him in the hospital lobby." "The fucker deserved it. He's lucky you pulled through or I would have killed him. It would have been a clean shot too, non-traceable round. I'm not a marksman for nothing." Paul rolled his eyes, “you’re being ridiculous, this-“ he gestured to his scar, “- was not his fault.” "It was and you know it was. This is all because he didn't think you could do your job on your own." “Bullshit Y/N!” Paul shot back. "He gave me an out and I said no. He told me to go home, but I told him I knew what I was doing." You could see him flush with anger and, at his surprising admission, you were shaking in it. "He what?" "You heard me." "You fucking asshole. You stupid, stupid son of a..." you couldn't bring yourself to talk about Dot like that so you carried on, your anger raging as you railed into him. “How dare you throw that at me? You had every fucking chance to come home and let him take the fuck up on his own and you still went. You still stepped right into the fucking madness when, Tom fucking Ludlow of all the people in the entire fucking department, gave you a chance to come back to me?"

“Stop it Y/N! You know as well as I do, you don't take up the badge and go 'you know what, I might die today, imma sit this one out'!”

He had you there, he wasn't wrong. You literally growled at him, your chest rumbling. Paul sighed, and swallowed, looking down at the floor before he raised his head and licked his lips as he glanced over your shoulder for a moment before meeting your eyes.

“Listen, about the wedding-“

You groaned, “I can’t do this now.”

“Just listen to me, will you?”

“Why? So you can tell me again how you don’t want to change our wedding date? Because of your pride and..."

At that something flashed in his eyes and he took a sharp inhale through his nose.

"My pride?” His voice his voice strained harshly, "Okay, how about we discuss why you do want to change the date because you’re embarrassed. You're embarrassed of me."

His comment floored you momentarily and you frowned. “Is that what you really think? That I’m ashamed of you?”

"Feels like it."

"Pull your God damn head outta your ass, Paul."

“The only person round here with anything up their ass is you, a big fucking stick about Tom Ludlow paying me a visit.” He croaked back. “What, you want me to be sat at home, helpless, waiting for you to come back? Does that fit with the narrative of why you wanna call the wedding off? Poor Paul, he can’t manage much at the moment so-“

“Fuck you!” You screamed back. “Fucking fuck you!”

Your chest heaved, your nostrils flared. You. Were. Done. You moved to leave, but as you made towards the door, his arm shot out and his hand wrapped around your upper arm.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere you’re not!” You spat, wrenching your arm from his grasp.

He grabbed you again, this time by the waist and pinned you to the near-by wall. It wasn't painful or abusive, it was just enough roughness to keep your attention.

“Get off me.” You hissed, attempting once more to rid yourself from his grip.

“Fucking calm down!” He instructed, his hands pinned yours to the wall, his chest lifting away from your body. It reminded you of how he'd treat a suspect, enough force to maintain control but not to hurt.

His words were said through clenched teeth, his own hot breath from his nose flicking your hair a touch, he was so close. His blue eyes, full of fire, blazed into yours as the two of you stood still, chests heaving from the exertion of the shouting and anger.

He was the one to break first as he slammed his lips into yours. It stole your breath as he kept you pinned against the wall.

Eventually he pulled back and you glared at him. “Prick.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He hissed again, his voice breaking before his lips crashed back to yours. His hips ground into yours, keeping you pinned to the wall and it didn’t escape your notice that he was hard. The fucker was turned on.

But, in all honesty, no matter how pathetic it was, his display of dominance had you fluttering slightly but you were damned if you we’re going to show him that.

You felt him release your arms as his hands quickly moved to your work cargos. Your utility belt and flies were no match for his swift movements and you felt the release of their hold on you as the material flew open.

His chest and kiss kept you pinned to the wall as he undid the zipper to his denim and you quickly felt the head of his cock slip between your folds. “Seriously?” You whispered, making no attempt to stop him. “You think a fuck is gonna sort this out?”

He rutted up into you, stuffing himself right inside and jolting your body up the textured paint. The burn and stretch took your breath away, you weren’t as prepared as usual but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

"I said shut up." He growled as your arms swooped around his neck, trying to find purchase to grab and your fingers found the collar of his shirt. You gave a tug, no doubt stretching the collar but you didn't care. He thrust upward and used his hips to keep you in place as he leaned back enough to slip his shirt off, his built chest and less defined abs now on display, that necklace bouncing off his chest from the speed of his disrobing.

His eyes still blazed as you caught them in your own gaze. He looked down right feral, his skin flushed with anger. His hands flew to the hem of your navy uniform tee and in a wrench he had that over your head, his lips dropping to your collar bone and he nipped along the line, stinging bites that would no doubt leave their marks.

“Not so fucking mouthy now, are you Sugar?”

Your only reply was the 'fuck' that escaped your lips at a whimper as he spoke. The rasp of his injury mixed with the deep tone lust did to him had you fluttering in all the right places.

You weren't sure how he'd done it but your boots were unlaced and falling to the floor at his feet with a thud. You barely registered the way his fingers slipped under the hem at the leg of your cargos and slipped your socks away. He was rutting into you with such hard measure, his tongue aggressively and passionately dancing with your own. You felt a rawness against your back from the wall. He stopped kissing and fucking you long enough to tear down your pants and panties the rest of the way, leaving you in your sports bra, your nipples rock hard poking into the material. All whilst his body still pressed hard against you.

With a yelp, he lifted you and carried you the few short steps to the couch, dropping you on your ass and turning you to your knees. You caught just a glimpse of how he looked, chest naked and heaving, tattoos glistening with sweat, that look still raging in his eyes. You wagered you looked about the same because he looked how you felt. His cock glistened with your slick as he slipped right behind you, a knee on the cushion of the couch, the other boot planted into the carpet.

Without a word his hands grabbed your hips, unceremoniously repositioning you before he slammed straight back inside, jolting you forward a little as you cried out, your hands curling round the arm of the sofa, elbows locking to prevent you from falling face first into the cushions.

The angle change along your swollen walls filled you with a deep, rough pleasure and you groaned loudly as his hips rotated in a dirty grind as he bottomed out on one of his thrusts.

"Oh my... fuck..." you stuttered and behind you Paul gave a moan of his own.

“That all you got to say?” He panted, his voice cracking slightly, punctuated by his pants.

“Asshole.” You managed to whisper and with that, Paul grabbed that ponytail you sported and held tight, arching you head back towards him.

“Jesus Christ you just can’t stop can you?” His lips crashed to yours in a sloppy, filthy, tongue filled kiss before splaying his chest over your back, his hot breath against your ear as he made the most pleasurable grunts and moans, his hips pounding back and forth in a relentless rhythm.

He was close, you could feel it in the subtle rhythm change of his hips, his hand on your hip squeezing your skin, bruising it no doubt later.

"Do. It." You punctuated.

“Oh, baby girl , you should know by now,” he growled as his right hand moved from your hip, slipping around your belly and down between your legs, “not. before. you.” In no time at all his fingers had teased you to relief, your back arched as you cried out loudly, the heat and surge of your orgasm washing over you, the world spinning as you crashed over the edge.

He growled your name as he came, filling you but not stopping his relentless thrusts as if he couldn't help the automated way his body had taken over, taken you. You felt how warm your insides were at his spend, no doubt absorbing most of it. You fell forward onto the couch, his body lightly crushing you into the cushions.

As the two of you worked at recovering, his lips brushed over your skin in super soft kisses; along your shoulder, the back of your neck.

The only sound in the room were the two of you breathing heavily, a stark contrast to the screaming match you shared for the last two days. Then you felt his weight shift and a sweet kiss to the back of your neck.

"About the wedding...."

You groaned, after everything you just threw at each other and the most ridiculously, satisfying angry sex you had ever had, he wanted to start back up again. "Please don't. I don't want to argue."

He hushed you and your walls squeezed against him. He let out a low chuckle mixed with a moan. "I’m not." He kissed your shoulder. "Before you came in before like a buck shot grizzly bear, I was gonna say you were right."

You stilled and turned your head to look at Him. “I’m sorry, say that again?” You teased

He smiled and nipped at your neck, "don't be a dick."

He pulled out of you and sat down on the sofa. Your body was jello but you couldn't miss the chance to seize an opportunity to slip him back inside you and simply sit on his lap. He gave a grunt as you kissed him, soft at first, then lolled your tongue over his lips. "I'm sorry too."

“I never said I was sorry.” He playfully chuckled and this time you nipped at him, teeth grazing his jaw.

“Don’t be a dick.”

His hands moved to your hips and then up your back, pulling you against his tacky damp chest.

“Disco?”

“Sugar?”

“You don’t really think I’m ashamed of you, do you?”

"It'd crossed my mind."

"Look at me," you sat up and held his jaw in your palms. "Never, in my entire life will I ever be ashamed of you. You are the absolute strongest, bravest person I know."

"Okay."

You kissed those sweet little moles on his right cheek by his nose and just below his bottom lashes. "I love you like no other, Paul Diskant."

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and that gorgeous soft smile spread across his lips. Then you wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a kiss where you knew he'd feel and understand what you meant, what you felt. It was covered by a still healing scar, but he felt everything.

“I only want us to have the day we want, the day we deserve.” You whispered, sniffing a little as you blinked back tears.

"I'll call Shutters tomorrow. See what they can do." He whispered into your hair as he kissed your head.

“Thank you.” You lay your head on back his shoulder, his arms holding you close.

***** Part 6.1

#rock n roll people in a disco world #paul diskant #paul diskant x reader #paul diskant x you #reader insert #paul diskant fan fiction #street kings #chris evans #chris evans characters

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imherongraystairstrash · 3 years

Note

I’ve been thinking about this for a while, do you think Charles,Barbara, Eugenia and Anna were close? Anna maybe less because she’s closer in age to the merry thieves set and she probably ghosted Charles after the Ariadne engagement. Would you consider a fic of them all growing up, starting with them 4 as little kids and then slowly becoming teens and adults and then dealing with Barbara’s death. I think it would be a fun idea since nobody ever considers them to be a older merry thieves.

You can thank my social anxiety for this one bc I stress wrote it in school 🙃

TW: panic attacks, death

Title: When we were young

Characters: Barbara Lightwood, Anna Lightwood, Eugenia Lightwood, Cecily Lightwood, Gabriel Lightwood, Alexander Lightwood, Sophie Lightwood, Gideon Lightwood

Anna was sitting by the fire when Charles came into the room. She hated him. She truly did. But, somehow, at that moment, she felt strange. He looked at her and it took her many years back, to when they weren’t exactly friends, but they were far from what they are now to each other.

…

“And that was how Consul Wentworth fixed the crisis of 1687.” Charles said with a satisfied smile to himself.

The Lightwood girls were his audience. Well, sort of. Eugenia’s cheek was resting on her fist, squishing the right side of her face as her lidded eyes approached shutting completely. Anna was slumped against Eugenia, her lips pressed together tightly and her eyes opened wide, staring at a fixed spot on the floor. Their luminous dark blue glittered in the witchlight, looking exquisitely uncanny. Barbara was mid-yawn, leaning on the leg of a sofa.

“Wow, Charles. Thanks for the history lesson.” Eugenia said, monotonously. It was evident that she’d inherited her mother’s sass from the day she was born, when Barbara had woken her up by exclaiming at the sight of her newborn sister, and Genie responded by pulling her sister’s hair.

“Oh, and in 1690-“

“NO!” All three Lightwood daughters shrieked.

“I’m still not done, though.” Said Charles.

“Yes, you are.” Eugenia said, standing up and settling the matter. “We are positively bored. There is absolutely nothing to do except listen to Charles talk about politics, and if those are the only two options, frankly, I’d rather be bored.”

Charles crossed his arms. “Being an intellect is not boring.”

Little two year old Anna looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

“I swear, Thomas is having a better time than we are,” Eugenia said glaring at to where their parents were, with the tiny, almost invisible baby nestled in Gideon’s arms, his fingers wrapped around Sophie's thumb. The parents were all laughing about something, which made Eugenia scowl even more.

“To be an adult.” Barbara said, with a martyred sigh.

“We needn’t be adults to have fun.” Charles said.

“I suppose you’re going to torture us with more political trivia.”

“No,” Charles said. “I was going to suggest we go through the attic.”

The girls looked up at this and Charles smirked, clearly proud of himself at having come up with a good idea. For once.

“What is in the attic?”

Charles shrugged. “I don’t know, but there’s probably strange and obscure things. There’s a lot of that kind of stuff in our house.”

Barbara and Eugenia exchanged a look before the eldest Lightwood sister turned to him.

“We shall go and discover this mysterious attic you speak of.”

…

“What could this even be?” Barbara said, holding up a loose gear-like contraption.

“Papa sometimes builds things out of clockwork.” Charles said, sitting cross legged. “Or, he used to at least.”

“That’s…”

Genie and Charles looked at Barbara as she trailed off.

“Nevermind, I have no comment.”

Charles nodded as though that was a common reaction people had in terms of his father’s experiments.

They rummaged through boxes upon boxes, finding momentos they didn’t understand such as papers upon papers of things that said many difficult words. They could distinguish a couple of words such as “infernal” and “devices”, however there were many that made no sense to them.

“What is a Mortmain?” Asked Genie.

“I think it’s an undead horse or something along those lines,” said Charles.

“Oh,” said Eugenia. “That’s disgusting.”

“Quite,” agreed Barbara.

Anna was toddling around the room, giggling. She almost tripped over a loose floorboard, and would have, had Charles not reached out and grabbed a hold of the back of her dress.

“This is too dangerous for a small child like Anna,” Barbara said, ever the mother-goose. “I shall take her downstairs before she hurts herself.”

Anna protested at first, but acquiesced once Barbara bribed her with the promise of dessert.

…

“What are you doing here?” Anna asked.

He looked up, his green eyes meeting her blue ones.

…

Charles remembered that day like it was just yesterday.

He and Eugenia had stayed behind rifling through boxes, which wasn’t unwelcome, as Eugenia and Charles had an easy, lighthearted and, at times, profound, friendship. Despite their age gap, they enjoyed each other’s company, though neither could say why. Perhaps, it was simply because they mocked each other. Or perhaps, it was sometimes they would occasionally talk about things such as philosophy, and whether what they were seeing was true, or the world was just a figment of their imaginations. Or a mixture of the two; they’d never really discussed it.

Eugenia surprised him when she said, “do you ever feel… different from your parents?”

Charles furrowed his brows, “in what aspect?”

“Love.”

“Have you a suitor?” Charles inquired, intrigued.

“No. Actually, that was my question. I find that, sometimes, I don’t only enjoy the idea of a male suitor, but perhaps, I also enjoy the company of a woman. Perhaps.” She pressed her lips together tightly, as if forcing herself to stop speaking.

Charles looked at her, his bright green eyes wide. “I-um-…”

“But I’m not sure, of course.” Eugenia blurted out. “It’s not as if shadowhunters are precisely fond of that particular preference or-“

“Do you really think they wouldn’t like it?” Charles asked, softly. “Do you believe they will reject those who are like that?”

Eugenia looked down. “I’m afraid I’m most sure of it.”

Charles had then realized that he couldn’t have both. There was no way around it.

He knew his parents were happy and that love made them complete. However, they didn’t have to choose. They could be married and the idea wouldn’t affect their respective occupations. Charles, on the other hand, couldn’t be Consul and have the kind of love he wanted. He almost resented them because of it. They were able to do what they loved and nobody forced them to pick between one or the other.

It was unfair. So incredibly unfair.

“I guess you better get rid of your feelings towards women than.” He said simply, “unless you’re willing to let something as simple as love get in the way of your dreams.”

“Dreams?” Eugenia asked, looking confused and a tiny bit hurt.

But Charles got up to go back downstairs to his parents, aunts and uncles.

…

Charles slumped down in a chair and dug his fingers into his hair.

“She was just here.” He said quietly. “Babs, was just here.”

Anna felt sudden rage. “You are not allowed to mourn her.”

Charles looked up. “Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean I can’t be sad. She was my cousin too. Perhaps not by blood, but she was still a cousin.” He pressed his lips together angrily and stared fixedly at the witchlight stone that was illuminating the room.

Anna, however, couldn’t find it in her to be diplomatic; she got up and left the room.

…

Anna had never seen Eugenia look this way. She was always put together, posh. But now, she looked hollow. Like a shell of who she used to be. Anna wanted to go up to her, to say something, but she felt lost for words. What did you tell someone who lost a dear sister? If Anna felt sorrow, she couldn’t imagine what Eugenia was feeling.

Her head was tilted upwards, looking up at the pyre where the corpse of her sister lay. Tears were streaming down her face, rolling down her cheeks, throat and chest, leaving streaks on her face that looked like the roots of a tree.

Sophie had her arm around her daughter. The sight of the four of them was very strange. There was a gap missing where Barbara should have been. She suddenly felt a hand take hold of her own. She looked to her right and saw her mother looking straight ahead, squeezing her daughter’s hand. Her father was looking down, holding Alex. Her baby brother was one of the few who looked up at the cousin who’d taught him to play simple songs on the piano, and had always let him sleep in her arms on New Year's eve.

She didn’t know what he must have been thinking now, staring up at the pyre.

Though, to be fair, she didn’t quite know what to think herself, as she looked up at the cousin who’s life was cut far too short.

…

Eugenia’s body didn’t feel like her own. She hadn’t felt this body was her own for a while. Even since Augustus and the secret she’d kept to herself.

This was somehow worse. To be torn away from your best friend, whom you’d shared a room with almost your entire life. Eugenia didn’t know how to live in a world without Barbara. Sometimes, in the rare moments when she forgot about her sadness, she’d call her sister’s name, ready to tell her about what had happened in her novel. Or find herself walking to Barbara’s room without thinking and then staring blankly at the door that has remained shut ever since the day she passed away.

A couple of weeks ago, she’d found a letter Barbara had sent her when she’d been in Idris. It was in between her copy of Jane Eyre. She couldn’t bring herself to read it in its entirety, but she stared at the signature blankly.

Suddenly, she got the urge to run. So she ran. That’s how, an hour later, she’d gotten a small tattoo under her ankle that said “Sincerely, your favorite sister Babs.”

It felt right to have Bab’s signature there, we’re only she could see. It made her feel accompanied everywhere she went, even though nobody else could see.

Now, looking up at the pyre, her face tight from tears she’d left to dry, her mother weeping silently, she could almost imagine that her sister was there, simply caught in a slumber and that she’d wake up at any moment and come tumbling down, throwing herself in Eugenia’s arms.

Any moment now, she thought when the pyre burst into flames.

“Ave atque vale, Barbara Lightwood.” The crowd said at once.

Eugenia shook her head and swayed on her feet. Her breathing became heavy and her fingers began prickling. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. No nononono.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, vaguely that it was her father’s.

Not Barbara.

Not Babs.

“Calm down, Genie.”

Not her sister. Her sister couldn’t possibly be up there.

“Breathe Eugenia.”

She wanted to scream that she couldn’t, that she’d never breathe again, as long as her sister wasn’t breathing with her. Why did she have to live? She would have much preferred that Barbara live in her stead.

The world was numb and fractured, never to be fixed again.

…

(Don’t worry, Gideon was able to help Genie after the fic ends bc he’s the best dad)

Tagging: @tsccreatorsnet @atla-lok143 @rinadragomir @youngreckless @autumnangel20 @julemmaes @cupcakesandkittens @no-scones-allowed @ninacarstairss @stxr-thxif @writeforjordelia @icouldnotask @jordeliasupremacy @cordelia-cardale @will-effing-herondale @axoloteca @heronstairs2014 @ilovemanicures @ti-bae-rius @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @readersconfessions812 @nightshade3465 @livvyheronstairs @zemiraa @proudtobealuthor @neurogliadudette @theenchanteddreamer @cheeseandmacarons

If you want to be on my tag list, or if you changed your url recently and your not in the tag list anymore, let me know! Also, if you want to be removed, send me a dm! I won’t be offended in the slightest :) Oh, and if you asked to be on the tag list and you’re not on it, please tell me (I’m very absentminded lol).

#tsc #tlh #eugenia lightwood #barbara lightwood #charles buford fairchild #gabriel lightwood #anna lightwood #cecily lightwood #cecily herondale #tlh fanfic #tlh fanfiction #the last hours #tid #sophie lightwood #gideon lightwood

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ohmysparkle · 3 years

Text

Spellbound intro III

🌙 Pairing: Hyunjin (Stray Kids) x Reader

🌙 Genre: Dark Fantasy AU, Mystery, smut.

🌙 Teaser Length: 3K

🌙 Warnings: Blood, bodily injury, cannibalism in this chapter. For the series overall, smut, gore, witchcraft, religious themes.

🌙✨Tag List: @xviternity @straykisz @97lovestay (unable to tag)

✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ *✧･ﾟ. ✨ . *: ･ﾟ 🌙 * ･ﾟ✧ * : ･ﾟ✧. ✨･ﾟ.*.✧

It’s smouldering hot, and the once neatly dressed man that stands on the corner of the street has now soiled his white clothes with sweat. The beads shimmer on his dark skin, and he rubs at his brows, to remove the tension as well as to wipe the perspiration before it falls to his eyes.

He’s had enough. If the man he waits for doesn't come to him, then he shall go to look.

The first person to ask is only a few steps away. He stomps past his own - empty - storefront and enters the following shop, the butcher’s shop precisely.

“Eustace!” The sweaty man calls, awaiting for a dimwit in his 20’s with a curly head of hair to appear. The front stall is empty, but somewhere in the back he hears a clang before his call is answered.

“Ji - Jiggly? What can I help you with today?” Eustace replies in confusion.

“Your brother is late.” Says the man, rather matter-of-factly.

“Hmm.” Eustace thinks, for longer than necessary, “He should have been by yours a while ago.”

“Yes - I know that, which is why I’ve come here to tell you he’s late. It’s almost ten o'clock and I’ve yet to finish the filling for the meat pies - they wont be done in time for lunch unless Emerson shows up now.”

“Well…” Eustace thinks. The impatient man pauses at the worrying thought that he, the older of the two brothers, is somehow to inherit the family business. It’s not a match for his mind.

“Eustace - could you call your father to figure out how much longer the delivery will take?”

“Oh, dad’s not at the other shop. Emerson was only going in today to pick up the day’s delivery orders.”

“So you don’t know where he is?”

“I really have no idea.”

“Ah - goodness Eustace, does that not bother you in the least?”

The man storms out from the butcher's place, mumbling and grunting to himself, making his way to the corner once more to see if Emerson has made an appearance. He looks over the bend, down a block to where the road runs along the shore of the lake - nothing.

It’s getting late, and he’s sure his clientele would not appreciate the absence of his meat pies.

The lake, glistening in that cool morning sun…

Just how desperate was he to find Emerson?

“Why do they talk to you like that?” Jiggly asks you, clothed in your usual black, but in thinner fabrics to allow for the breeze to cool you on that one summer day.

“Like what?” You ask him.

“Well - they actually talk for starters. And they’re kinda nice, don’t look like they’ll bite you.” He says, watching in awe as you gently take the hand of each of the ladies in the water as a greeting.

“Jiggly… look. Mermaids, sirens, think of them as regular leg people. Do you walk up to a person on the street and gawk? No. Do you slowly socialize until they are acquainted with you? Yes. Just come down and make small talk from time to time and they’ll get along with you just fine.”

“But don’t they eat people?!”

“Well… they could, but I brought them apples so I guess they’re not really hungry now.”

“Apples? That’s all it took?” He looks at the three wet ladies, sitting upon the small embankment that piled onto the paved sidewalk. “Just apples?”

“Well… fruit in general they tend to like. I always start with apples, nobody has dietary issues with apples. Sometimes I make them some food too.” One of the ladies, with long hair that winds and circles around her body covering her figure along with some small white garments, strokes your calf as if she were petting a cat. It all seemed so bizarre, the water women were always so angry, hissing and growling, baring sharp teeth and nails.

“They’re fond of physical contact once they trust you.” You explain, taking a bite of one of your spare apples. Another lady, a younger, girlish one, pokes at your thigh as you are about to eat more. You roll your eyes and relinquish the apple to her.

“I’m not taking chances.”

“You underestimate how helpful they are. They can go from one side of the lake in a minute, they share everything they hear with one another, they travel the oceans. If you’re on their good side, they might just let you submit some mermail to them.

“Mermail?” Jiggly is in awe, it’s like the two of you were in two different realities with you always saying things that stunned him so.

“Yeah, mer-mail… mermail? Get it? Like, put a message in a bottle and they’ll ship it to wherever you need so long as it's close to a body of water?” You elaborate.

“Yeah, yeah - I know what it is. I just didn’t think it was… real.”

“Ha!” You snort. You turn around to the water ladies, saying something in an older language he does not recognize - they seem to understand it though, and laugh along with you.

“Jiggly… mermail is real.” You deadpan. “It’s not like… a myth or anything.”

“Mail?”

“Yes… well, packages, letters, messages… ”

“What do you pay them with? I thought the mermaids didn’t use money.”

“Eh, they sometimes do. But all it’ll cost you is kindness, or maybe a little favor. They’ll do plenty of little favors if you just give them a little kindness in return. Real nice sense of community they’ve got…”

Kindness…

He had that. What he lacked for this specific task was confidence.

But there they are, just a couple of them. Young girls, in their early teens, wearing some dry cloth sheets over their bodies to break the ever chilling wind, just enjoying the morning sun as they etched pebbles with tools, most likely to make some jewelry, as they sat on the edge of the footpath with their feet hanging over the surface of the lake.

“Ehem… hello?” The man cautiously says, his voice nearly cracking due to the uncertainty. He is at a loss of words, just momentarily, when they return a gaze with their bulbous, unnaturally blue eyes. The irises nearly gone, it was like staring into water itself.

“Hello?” He says, closer this time.

“Hssss.” one of them hisses at him, like a cat, baring her small sharp teeth.

The other one pats her shoulder to silence her, and raises her hand to beckon the man over.

He approaches fearfully.

“Hi.” The calmer girl says, staying put. Her voice is quiet and hoarse, almost whisper-like, just like all the other women who lived in the waters. You had once explained it to him, it’s because they were sometimes unused to speaking above water, and they often had accents of old languages, now that newer ones weren’t quite common below.

“I’m Jiggy - the baker.” He says trying to be as personable as possible. “You might remember my friend… Dr. Nemo.”

The girl nods politely. Good.

“She told me you might be able to do me a little favor. If you want I can make you anything for lunch in return.” He was trying to smile, in a friendly neighborly way, not in a creepy man in his thirties way.

“Lunch?” The polite fish girl asks.

“Yes!” He sings, almost like some character from a children's program.

“Fish?”

“No, I don’t carry fish.” Did he ruin it? Did they only eat fish?

“Pork? Bacon.” She says again.

“Yeesss…” He does his best friendly-dinosaur impression.

“Yes. Bacon.” She looks at the girl that had hissed, and she nods in return after a brief moment of silent conversation. “What… do you need?”

“Well… you might know the man that drives the meat truck.”

“Stupid man?” The polite girl says in her funny voice.

“Yeeesss… the stupid man.” Clever girl. “Could you ask around and find out where he is? He’s late and I need him to bring me my cuts of meat.”

“Where? Where do we look?” It was a good question… Emerson only delivers between two neighborhoods.

“Eastbend by the Shore!” He points to the area further up along this same side of the lake. Over there the houses are smaller, climbing up the sloping hills. It's cooler from all the trees, and that is where the slaughterhouse of Edwin & Sons lies - and where Emerson should be stalling.

“Right over there!” Jiggly points, nearly seeing the white roof of the taller building among the quaint brick houses. “Right over - AHH!” Something in his hand pinches every bit of his attention.

Chomp!

He looks down to the pinching and blunt pain on his hand - it was the hissing girl biting him! Latched on to one of his fat fingers with her sharp teeth - the audacity!

He tries to pull his hand away, and it's like he can hear it, a rip. The girl's pale, veiny face is suddenly painted by a splatter of blood that she’s made the flesh release, gushing from his index finger, an arc of red liquid painting a line from her mouth to her forehead. Her furious blue eyes, still trained on his hand, almost satisfied at the outpour.

“Aaaaaaaaahh!” He shrieks, a long piercing howl.

The polite girl begins to scold the other, Jiggly can hardly comprehend, but when she smacks her companion across the head it does not make the hold of her jaw relent. It only makes his skin drag further from his bone.

If he moves back she’ll rip it off, if he pulls closer she might latch her bite further up. He is paralized, his entire body feels pins and needles from the panic, but it begins and ends with his one, bitten finger.

Smack! The polite girl smacks the other right across the forehead, one last time and now the girl lets her jaw slack. The man holds his hand up, shrieks once more as he sees his bone beneath the torn and bleeding skin. Even against his dark fingers, the blood is so red and so bright, so so bright. No translucency at all, just a solid red, redder than anything he had seen before. But there, a peek of something pale within the digit - and he could feel it; the bone.

The girls bicker and argue.

“Fucking fishy!” He cries at her.

“Lunch!” The bloodied girl cries. She goes back to smacking her lips, picking at her teeth with her tongue as if there were flesh stuck between her teeth. There probably was.

“It - it’s the baker! Come help!” a man yells behind him, having been attracted by the screams. There is a clamor of feet approaching the scene.

Jiggly turns, men approach him from behind, the girls swat and slap at each other in front of him, his finger bleeds.

“Jiggly! What happened?” He recognizes the voice. It's the captain of the cadets from this side of the lake, a handsome man that seems to eat too many of his croissants for the size of his waist, one of his very best customers. But alas, here he is, running as he does daily, with all of the young recruits in training panting behind him as he stands there with barely a mist of a sweat on his face.

As he turns to face the handsome man, he can hear a growl from one of the girls behind him.

“My fi-finger.” He chokes out, an airy whimper making up his words. ”Hal… She bit my finger.” he says, pointing at her bloody face with his bloody hands.

The man is of the unflinching kind, bats his eyes as he pieces it all together, but he doesn’t react with any repulsion.

“Does anyone have a clean towel?” He yells at the cadets. Someone hands it to him and he expertly wraps Jiggly’s hand. “You all, keep going. I’m taking him to the doctor.”

“Doctor…” Jiggly ponders, too distracted by his bleeding finger.

“Are you feeling lightheaded?” Hal questions. “I’m taking you over to your friend, Dr. Nemo.”

It’s a few blocks of his dazed stumbling. He didn't notice what happened to the fish girls, or the cadets, or how long it took him to get there. All he knows is that suddenly he is at the steps of your clinic, the big dark blue door looking over him and Hal firmly holding his side..

And as if you sensed it, even before Hal could let go of the cloth he pressed to his hand to knock, you open the door. There, above them, in your usual dark and neat attire.

“What happened?” You inquire.

“Doc! Jiggly’s had an accident.” Hal explains.

You usher for him to come inside, Jiggly feels as if he levitates as the muscular, but gentle, man guides him up.

“Just sit him down somewhere.” You say absentmindedly, grabbing things from the many cabinets and shelves. “Caro! We have a patient.” You shout for your apprentice. The girl would usually come down sooner.

“Yes Miss Nemo!” She politely replies, eager to attend however she can. Until she sees who it is and lets out a gasp. “Jiggles!” She calls in awe, seeing his bloodstained clothes.

“What happened to him?” You ask Hal, seeing that Caro has now taken to applying pressure to Jiggly’s hand.

“I think one of the younger water women bit him…” He ponders. He stands a little too close to you. You can basically smell him, the sheen of perspiration… his dark red locks dampened and slicked back, the muscles in his neck and arms exposed so handsomely.

Focus!

“Siren or mermaid?” You ask.

“I think… mermaid.” Hal replies, unsure.

“Did she have the weird eyes?” You ask.

“Her face was covered in blood, I didn’t really notice if -”

“Yes!” Jiggly shouts from his seat at your small breakfast table. “Horrible eyes, horrible child.”

“Child?” you purse your lips, Caro even lets out a giggle. “How bad could she have bitten you?”

As you set the items on the table beside him, Caro slowly unwraps the bloody rag… and - it’s quite awful.

“Ha!” You laugh, a hearty laugh, Caro eventually joins in. “A child did this to you?!”

“She was feral and - uuaaahh!” He whines again. You had taken advantage of his distraction to pour antiseptic onto his wound, your apprentice dabs at it with some clean linens.

“Shouldn't we put him on one of the tables?” Hal quips.

“Eh, this seems pretty basic. Right Caro?” The girl doesn't reply, being hyper focused on her task, the bloody hand, the bloody rag, the bloody linen. “Caro, I said; this seems pretty basic, right?” you say more sternly.

She blinks back to reality, “Yes Miss, quite simple.”

“See? Just a few stitches and some healing goo and he’ll be good.” You tell Hal, placing a hand on his chest, quite firm and… toned, to push him back gently. You needed the space, he was too close for comfort, as usual.

“Miss… stitches or, do you think we could use the good stuff?” Caro suggests… ah yes, expensive magical healing ointments.

“Fine… just a little should be enough.” You conceded, after all he was the most popular baker on the lake, and you weren’t sure how happy the townsfolk would be with his being out of commission.

Hal once more, is upon you… it’s a bad habit of his that you’ve tried to quell. And he is never subtle, which you wouldn’t particularly mind if he weren’t so keen on doing so in public.

“You know, I’ve gotten a letter from my cousin.” He says, “She sends her regards, inquires about you.”

“Your cousin, the demon hunter?” Jiggly buds in, and for a moment, you wish to chastise Hal for his lack of prudence. “How does Doc know her? Isn’t she halfway around the world?”

He stutters, not knowing how to answer Jiggly’s question. How indeed does he explain to Jiggly that you are acquainted with his cousin, who is a local legend but has not returned to the area in quite a few years, that you know her despite never having been in town at the same time as you?

He regrets his insolence. How could he have said that so easily?

“I don't. We don't know each other at all.” you reply, with a special and strange tone.

“But he just said you did.” Jiggly argues.

“No he didn’t.” A little more charmingly.

“He didn’t?” Caro tenses as Jiggly resists, but she continues to treat his wound.

“He didn’t. He hasn’t mentioned anything about his cousin at all.” It takes a moment for your words to sink in, but slowly, they do.

“That’s right… Hal hasn’t said anything about that.”

“Precisely Jiggly, he hasn’t said anything at all.” You reply contently once you see him nod with a distant daze in his eyes. As soon as Jiggly’s attention is diverted by your apprentice, you look back to Hal.

“You lack prudence.” You sternly whisper, making sure Jiggly is unaware. “Leave - and make sure he gets home.”

“I - forgive me. It slipped, and I -”

“Don’t make any mention of it to him - ever again. Not to anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“You are the only person in this damn place that knows, and I guarantee you do not want to be responsible for it getting out.” You cut him off before he can respond. “Caro, are you done?”

“Yes Miss, just about!”

“Good. Jiggly, Hal will take you home. Let your hand rest for today but you should be fine tomorrow.”

Caro quickly ushers them out, and once the door is closed behind them, she turns to you.

“Do you think it worked?”

“Of course it did - do you doubt me?” You ask her, almost displeased.

“It's just… you haven’t done anything like that in a long time.”

“Girls like me - like us - don’t get rusty.” You remind her, finishing her sentence with a tap to the tip of her nose.

At the doorstep of your clinic Jiggly feels confused, almost dreamy, as if he only had the faintest impression of what had just occurred during this particular morning.

#hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin #stray kids smut #hyunjin au #strange devotion skz collab

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happylittledrabbles · 3 years

Text

choke me!

Rating: 18+

DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18, NO MINORS!!!

Fandom: Attack on Titan

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Eren Yeager

—

"It's been four years, Reiner."

Reiner never thought he'd see Eren again. And yet there he was, sitting in front of him. The two exchange some heated words until Eren has had enough and lunges at Reiner, pinning him against the wall by the throat.

Except, instead of a cry or a shout, Reiner's reaction is a lot more...unexpected.

"Did you just...moan?"

Choking kink fic, basically.

AO3

—

“It’s been four years, Reiner.”

The last person Reiner Braun expected to see tonight was Eren fucking Yeager. He knew he’d see Eren again eventually, he just figured it’d be when Eren was killing him or he was killing the damned menace.

He didn’t think the reunion would be so soon.

They had warned that if Eren were to attack Marley at any time, it’d be tonight. But he had had so much fun at the fair with the kids that he hadn’t fully registered that Eren Yeager still existed. All he could think about was how happy he was to finally be out of that hell that was called Paradis and away from seeing the devils he had grown to love die at the hands of his own people. And he thought he had finally escaped it, except now, the biggest threat among both of their worlds was sitting right in front of him.

“H-how…” No thoughts in his head. There was nothing. Eren’s expression was so calm, it was mocking in comparison to the panic running amok in the blond’s chest.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking in these four years, Reiner Braun.” His name sounded like pure acid on Eren’s tongue. Even if Eren kept his tone measured, Reiner’s name still came out like two spears that pierced him directly in the heart.

“A lot of thinking about how you betrayed us. About how you killed Marco. About how you were my role model. A big brother, really.”

Nausea swirled in his stomach like a hot pit of lava, and he couldn’t help but step back and bump into Falco, who was also petrified; the two of them stilled like perfect marble statues. Reiner had tried hard to forget he ever interacted with Eren, nevermind considered him a friend. There were many times when they were alone together that he almost professed that he was the Armored Titan because he felt so close to him. He felt pride whenever he watched Eren succeed, even though he should have been actively distancing himself from him in preparation for the big operation. When he was supposed to not feel anything at all after breaking through Wall Maria and effectively killing everybody Eren knew, he locked himself in a room and cried and screamed for hours until Bertholdt came in and had to pry his hands from the table and hug him until his other personality took over, and he felt nothing again.

Oh, how he wished his other personality took over now. Then he wouldn’t be able to feel the crippling fear resonating throughout his entire body. Then he wouldn’t be able to feel the pure dread cross his face as Eren grew his missing leg back and stood up, instinctively hugging his arms behind him to make sure Falco was protected.

“I won’t hurt him,” Eren said, his visible eye dropping to the young boy staring at him with stormy blue eyes, wide with terror. He snickered. “Maybe he’ll get caught in the fallout. But, I won’t hurt him now, if that’s what you’re wondering. In fact...” He gestured with his hand for Falco to leave, giving him a chilling smile that he meant to be reassuring. “Go ahead and leave, kiddo. This shouldn’t take long. I just need to talk to my old pal Reiner here.”

“Don’t talk to him,” Reiner whispered shakily, but eventually let Falco go and pushed him forward. “Go. Run as far away as you can. I’ll handle this.” If anything happened, he wanted Falco as far away from the site of disaster as possible.

He turned back to Eren and noticed he was several inches taller than when he last saw him. It made sense; he was a grown adult man now, but it was still a shock. He was so used to peering down at Eren and resting his arm on top of his head, ruffling his hair, tipping his chin back to make eye contact with him. But now, if he slouched even a bit, he’d be shorter.

“How cute. You used to be protective over me like that,” Eren said with a bitter laugh, beginning to step forward when Reiner stepped back and nearly tripped over a chair in response. “What, are you scared of me? Ha. I remember when—”

“Stop!” Reiner cried, slapping his hands over his ears and shaking his head emphatically. “I don’t want to hear it! I don’t—”

“Don’t want to hear what, Reiner? How we used to be friends? How I looked up to you? How we shared so many good times together?” He picked up the chair he was sitting in and smashed it to the ground, the wood strewn across the ground like puzzle pieces. Reiner flinched at the echo of the crackling wood, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Eren blew the splinters off his palms and clapped them together to get rid of the rest of the debris as he walked leisurely around the room with his freshly grown leg, circling Reiner like a hawk to its prey.

“Did you feel anything when you killed Marco? Did you feel anything when I told you my mom was eaten? Knowing it was all your goddamn fault?!” Eren roared, his eye a ball of flaming green fire.

“I—”

“No, you didn’t feel anything. Because if you felt anything, you wouldn’t have tried so hard to get close to me.” Eren unraveled the bandages around his face to reveal his other eye, somehow making the fury blazing in his stare even more potent. He let the bandages drop to the ground, the fabric twisting and turning gently as they fell into a pile. Reiner blinked slowly, so slowly it would have seemed he fell asleep for a moment. He stepped forward, about to reach out to Eren when his breath hitched in his throat, his lungs refusing to expand as he was yet again face-to-face with the boy—man—he had ruined the life of and had grown close to, all at the same time.

He took a deep breath once his lungs began to function again, closing his eyes to block out Eren’s intense glare.

“I was always your friend, Eren,” he clarified, taking the chance to raise his arm up and reach out to the other man in hopes of understanding, of doing something to prevent whatever he was about to do. He flinched at the sound of applause outside, a horrifying reminder of the sheer number of people outside that Eren could so easily massacre in the span of a minute if he transformed. If only he could teleport and tell Willy to get everybody the hell out of there. But alas, he was confined to this basement with nobody other than the embodiment of the Attack Titan.

“Please believe me,” he pleaded, a hopeful yet terrified smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he watched Eren’s expression soften. “I’ve always liked you.”

But Eren’s expression wasn’t softening. It was merely morphing into one of mockery, disdain sharpening in his glare and piercing his chest like a lion’s claws ripping into its prey. He never felt weaker than at that moment.

“Don’t,” he huffed, taking a deep breath before shrieking, “ patronize me! ”

He descended upon Reiner with superhuman speed, gripping his outstretched wrist and pinning it against the wall along with the rest of his body, raising his forearm up and pressing it against Reiner’s neck. He expected Reiner to scream, grunt, curse, or exhale sharply, but the last thing he expected to hear was—

“ Ah-nn!”

It was almost comical how stiff the two men went at the sound, their eyes widening at the same time as they simply stared at each other. In awe, fright, surprise, or a mixture of all three. Reiner couldn’t gather what Eren was thinking from his unreadable expression, but all he knew was that his face was bright red, his heart was racing, and his body was being far too receptive to the heavy weight on his windpipe.

And all Eren knew was that he quickly found out that he liked this just as much as Reiner so obviously did as well.

“Did you just...moan?” Eren whispered, his eyebrow quirking in intrigue. He moved his forearm forward, pressing more of his body weight into Reiner, eliciting yet another sound of pleasure from the other’s thin lips.

“N-no— mmn!” The feeling of his windpipe and the sides of his neck being pressed in together was a feeling that left Reiner’s knees weak, his eyelids growing heavy as endorphins danced around his brain, leaving him in a state of swoon.

As Reiner struggled to stay standing, all Eren could do was stare in pure shock at the scene before him. Never had he seen Reiner come undone so quickly and so easily before, not even when he came across Bertholdt fucking him brilliantly in the outhouse during training. He looked, frankly, bored, as if he was putting on a scene for the other. Perhaps it really was a good thing the beanpole died. Now, Eren could play around with that expression of pure ecstasy without worrying that a seven-foot-tall bag of bones would try and slap him with those gangly limbs.

“Interesting…” Eren trailed off, his tongue wetting his lips as he dropped his forearm, allowing Reiner to gasp for breath and cough. The blond’s hand snaked up to his own throat, making sure it was okay, although its trail was hesitant, bewildered. Was this discovery also new to Reiner himself?

“So...this is new to you, too?” he dared to ask, his hand twitching to replace Reiner’s and uncover that never-before-seen expression on the other’s face once again.

Reiner scoffed and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the resistance his throat gave. “Shut up.”

“I mean, no wonder you always looked so bored when Bertholdt was fucking you,” Eren continued with a shrug as he looked around the room. He smirked, his eyes drifting to Reiner’s, mischief glinting conspicuously in both of them. “You needed something else to get you off.”

Reiner’s confusion was palpable, his agape mouth transforming into a sneer once he realized what Eren was talking about. His face had already been red, but now it was a deep scarlet as his mind ran back and quickly figured out that the shadow outside the window of the outhouse had, indeed, been Eren Yeager. How long had the little bastard been there? He was...busy during that time, so he lost track of the shadow outside once they changed positions. Had Eren...been watching them? Not merely passing by and getting surprised by the sight?

“I said shut the fuck up,” Reiner growled, pushing himself off the wall to leave. However, Eren’s hand clamped down on his throat, pushing him back in the wall and causing his head to thump off the concrete. “Shit!” He tried to gasp, but the force pressing against the sides of his throat was even stronger than before, with more purpose, causing his gasp to morph into a squeal.

“Did I say you could leave?” Eren murmured, leaning forward so that his lips tickled the shell of the other’s ear. He licked a trail on the outside of Reiner’s ear, causing the other to release another strained gasp and squirm under the weight of his hand. Perhaps this awakened something in him, too, because his body was reacting just like Reiner’s was. He couldn’t stop his hand no matter how much he tried; the expression and small whimpers the blond was making underneath him were like pure opium.

“Eren! Ere— oh,” Reiner cried, his clawing at Eren’s hand halting once the brunet’s lips fell to the junction of his jaw and neck, sucking feverishly at the soft skin that wasn’t taken up by his tense fingers. Once he came to after the sensation roiled him up, he exclaimed, “W-what are you doing? Eren, stop—”

“Stop?” Eren chuckled, his other hand dropping to Reiner’s crotch, which was painfully swollen and twitched as his knuckles brushed against it, drawing out a delicious moan from the throat underneath his hold. “And let you leave like this? How rude would that be of me, especially since I was the cause of this?” He paused, a pensive look replacing his devious one. “I mean, if you really want me to, I’ll stop.”

He stepped back, releasing Reiner’s throat and holding his hands up in the air. He tried to suppress the devilish grin that threatened to come out, keeping his face neutral. “I stopped.”

But it was nearly impossible to suppress the grin any longer as he watched Reiner’s expression morph from pure pleasure to confusion to, finally, loss. His trembling hands came up to reconvey the place where Eren’s hand was, an angry red bruise beginning to bloom at the sides of his neck as if trying to see if the hand was truly gone. His eyes dropped to his own crotch, wincing at the sight of it as well as, probably, the pain his constrictive pants were giving him.

“I…” Reiner was both at a loss for words. His eyes searched the room until they fell upon Eren again, a sort of pleading in them. He wanted Eren to read his mind so that he didn’t have to embarrass himself by begging do it again, please come here and choke me and fuck me— but all Eren did was stand there, which was somehow more infuriating than listening to him whisper humiliating things into his ear.

“...come here,” he mumbled, rubbing his forearm nervously. He didn’t dare make eye contact, staring down at the floor as if it’d kill him to look up and meet Eren’s undoubtedly jeering eyes.

“What? I couldn’t hear you?” Eren cupped his hand behind his ear and leaned forward, causing Reiner to suck on his teeth and ball his hands into fists at his sides.

“You’ve always been a little shit, haven’t you?” Reiner grumbled, his arm shooting out and gripping Eren’s wrist, bringing it up and guiding the other’s hand around his throat. “I said—”

“Ah-ah,” Eren interrupted, shaking his head. His hand stayed limp around Reiner’s throat, his other hand sitting comfortably in the pocket of his trousers. “You have to prove to me how much you want it.” He tipped his chin up, gazing at Reiner underneath heavy eyelids, shifting his weight onto one foot.

“Beg.”

“Wha-wha—” Reiner spluttered, his eyes wide and his grip on Eren’s wrist getting tighter and tighter. “What?” As much as he was surprised, his body very much was not. It took in the simple word like an aphrodisiac, his shoulders and cheeks getting even redder and his crotch getting even more painful.

“You heard what I said,” Eren taunted, licking his lips as he closed the gap between them, halting right before his lips. “Beg. Or else I’ll leave you like a bitch in heat.”

When had Eren grown so domineering? He had always had a certain gusto about him, some confidence that propelled him forward, even if it made him look like a loser. He didn’t give up during the ODM training even when it was clearly rigged against him. He made the broken thing work. It was pure rage that was fueling him, but...when had lust taken over? When had the fury in his eyes melted into hot ardor? Had he...always felt that way about Reiner?

“Eren…” he trailed off, trying to muster up the courage to actually beg. God, this was humiliating. How the hell did they even get here? What were they doing? But he couldn’t let Eren leave and kill all those people. And he certainly couldn’t fight in this condition. As much as it was dehumanizing, Eren was right. It felt as if he was in heat, his entire body boiling and in need of an electric touch.

“Choke me, please.”

“Yawn. Do better.”

“C-choke me, hard.” Reiner’s eyes rolled partly up as he felt the pressure of Eren’s hand growing around his neck, unable to restrain his outburst: “Harder! Please, choke me—touch me...ugh…”

The pressure had returned, and the physical incapability of speaking due to his constricted windpipe replaced his emotional incapability due to his dignity. But what dignity did he have now? All he could do now was completely let go.

“Fuck, yes! E-Eren, I—” He gasped when the pressure finally returned to its previous state, giving his body its much-needed dose of aggression. “I want you to f...f-fuck me.”

Eren chuckled, deep and dark, and before the other knew it, they were smashing lips, a violent exchange of saliva and pleasure.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he murmured against Reiner’s lips, both of them panting after the impromptu makeout session. He smirked as he slipped his other hand out of his pocket and trailed it down Reiner’s chest, stopping at his pecs and giving them a generous squeeze, earning him a grunt from the blond. “To be honest, I thought you’d come just from me choking you. Kind of pathetic, don’t you think?”

Reiner’s eyes were tightly squeezed shut, biting his bottom lip to prevent any more embarrassing sounds from slipping out.

“S-shut up.” But that couldn’t have been less convincing. The affinity for choking was new, but the chest fondling was old news. The training camp had been torture for him since there were way too many instances of people accidentally brushing against his pecs or nipples, almost causing him to rupture a blood vessel from trying to suppress a squeak.

But Eren was taking full advantage of having it right in front of him, diving his face into them and massaging them with his free hand with a voracious speed as if they’d disappear.

“These have grown a lot, haven’t they?” Eren jeered, pulling back his choking hand to strip Reiner of the top half of his clothing to be even closer to those soft pecs. The second the fabric had been removed, his choking hand returned and he dove right back in, leaving a trail of hickeys on the cleavage made by his pecs.

“Eren! E—a-ah—”

“I’d say they’re almost D cups, I think,” he continued, his voice muffled from the masses of muscle. He pulled back slightly, eyeing them for a moment before opening his mouth and clamping his teeth around the perfectly pink and perky nipple, leaving deep marks in the velvety areola.

“AH! What the—ow!” Reiner’s eyelids shot open, looking to see what the hell Eren was doing down there. All he saw was him grinning proudly, his hand coming up to stroke the bitemarks and not-so-accidentally passing over the nipple, giving it a gentle squeeze and flick. “Eren, the fuck?”

“Get down on your knees,” Eren commanded, and Reiner found himself on autopilot at the conviction in the other’s voice, his knees wobbling before dropping to the floor in compliance. He kept his eyes on Eren’s knees, his previous bashfulness returning; how could he make eye contact like this? He knew what was going to happen next: the horrendous blush on his face and chest made it quite clear.

Meanwhile, Eren was taking his time enjoying the view under him. He bit his bottom lip, letting out another chuckle as he shook his head. “You know, Reiner, I always looked up to you. I never thought I’d see you like this. So...submissive.” He tipped Reiner’s chin up gently with his finger to get the other to meet his eyes. “You never let me get the upper hand in training. You were the one making me drop to my knees.” He frowned. “But now you’re looking up to me. Funny how that works, huh? It only took the murder of an entire village of people and my mom to get you like this.”

Eren teasing him about his choking kink was humiliating. Being on his knees to somebody he saw as a little brother, about to commit even more sinful acts, was humiliating. But being constantly reminded of all the atrocities he committed against his friends was pure torture. It was putting quite a damper on his mood, but he couldn’t exactly tell Eren to stop talking about it because he’d only jeer him more. The only way he could think to get Eren to shut up was…

He dove forward, opening his mouth and wrapping his lips around the bulge in Eren’s trousers, his hand coming up to further massage it. His trousers smelled of grass and disinfectant, but the distraction was clearly working, seeing as Eren’s agape mouth stopped forming words and only allowed a shuddering breath to pass through.

“You’re eager, eh? Alright, I’ll give you what you want.” With one swift motion, he unbuckled his belt and was about to let it drop to the floor, but his eyes flashed with intrigue as they switched between Reiner’s neck and the leather. “On second thought…”

He wrapped it around Reiner’s neck, and before the blond could say anything, he zipped the belt until it was pressed tightly against the pallid skin underneath, already causing it to pinken from irritation. He poked a new hole into the leather, sliding it through and returning his hands to unbutton his trousers.

“You look like a dog,” Eren scoffed. Once his trousers were unbuttoned, he pushed them down only slightly; he didn’t expect this to take too long, seeing as how undone Reiner already was. He gripped the other’s jaw tightly in his hand, maneuvering the chiseled face to look up at him. “Bark for me.”

Reiner, who was still processing the belt around his neck, spluttered about and furiously shook his head, trying to get it out of Eren’s grip. “Hell no! I’m not a damn dog.”

“Hm. Shame.” Eren’s grip on him lessened, only for it to return full force when he transferred it from his muscled jaw to his short hair, the locks sticking straight up in between his fingers. “Then put your mouth to good use.”

Reiner was going to object, but the warmth radiating from in front of him made him drop his eyes to be faced with what looked like an iron rod underneath the linen fabric of Eren’s drawers. He gulped at the sight; if this didn’t fit in his mouth, how the hell was this going to go inside of him? He would have cursed himself for thinking that far ahead, but the act was inevitable—Eren was going to fuck his brains out.

He took a deep breath and leaned forward, pressing a hesitant kiss to the tip wetting the fabric with precum practically sticking up out of the top. He had caught flashes of Eren naked whenever they came across a hot spring or all the boys bathed together, and what was in front of him hardly compared to what he had seen back then. Eren truly had grown in more ways than one.

He shakily lifted a hand and moved the fabric out of the way, allowing Eren’s cock to spring up proudly, almost as if he was mocking Reiner and his need for it. He licked his lips and leaned forward, licking from the base to the tip with a flat tongue, practically drooling over it with the amount of need swirling in his chest.

“F...uck,” Eren groaned, tipping his chin up as his grip on Reiner’s hair tightened. “Got a lot of practice with Bertholdt, I see.”

Just at the mention of Bertholdt, Reiner sped up his stroking and licking, yet again hoping this method would get Eren to shut up and to produce more of those sounds of pleasure. Sure, he seemed to be dominant in this dynamic, but Reiner was the one who held the most power as of now. He could leave Eren blue-balled and walk away, or Eren could do the same to him. They were caught in a lustful dance of power, and neither wanted to walk away, as sinful as it was.

“Wait, you’re going too— shit!” The grip on his hair was growing painful, and it only grew tighter when he opened his mouth wide and engulfed Eren’s cock up to the middle, using his tongue all the while to lap up his drool and his hand to stroke the places his mouth couldn’t reach. He very much successfully got Eren to shut the fuck up, and he smiled to himself as he graciously lent his throat as a substitute for yelling at him to be quiet.

“What a fucking slut,” Eren chuckled, brushing the few long locks of hair that flopped into Reiner’s eyes, tipping his chin up slightly to meet his eyes. “Look at me while you do it.”

Pervert, Reiner thought, but he wasn’t all that different himself, for he looked up at lightning speed and locked eyes with the commandeering man above him, feeling precum and saliva running down his beard. That’ll be a bitch to clean.

“Good.” Just that word was enough to send chills down his spine, his eyelids fluttering with pleasure as he reached his hand that wasn’t busy stroking down between his legs, trying to soothe the throbbing pain spreading in his groin. But he was interrupted by Eren groaning and his grip on his hair turning into stone.

“Since you wanna go so fast,” he murmured, cocking his head curiously before pulling Reiner all the way down his cock, the other’s nose nestling in the happy trail leading down his stomach.

GURK!

“It’s satisfying to see you choking on me,” he laughed, tossing his head back to let out a moan as he could feel Reiner’s throat tightening and moving around him, the softness of the back of his mouth leaving him breathless. “I’ll fuck you in a second, but in the meantime…”

He gave an experimental thrust, slow and shallow, leading to more gurgling and choking noises from the man below him, drool beginning to build up in the corners of his mouth and dribble down his chin. Reiner’s hands flung out to grip Eren’s thighs, trying to process the fact that he was being facefucked.

“Mmgh—nngf!” He tried desperately to slurp up as much drool as he could, but it was beginning to pour now, down his chin and onto the floor, gathering into a pool near his knees. His eyes were watering, the tears accumulating in the corners of his eyes.

“F-fuck yeah,” Eren growled. Now equipped with more confidence, he pulled out of Reiner’s mouth partly—giving the other a short sense of relief—before snapping his hips forward, lodging himself deep down in his throat. A horrid gagging sound released itself from his throat, squeezing between his cheeks and Eren’s cock. His stomach dry-heaved, but he had hardly any time to recuperate before Eren launched back into thrusting himself over and over into his mouth.

“Hah— fuck, this is good,” he groaned, a smirk ever-present on his lips. He could feel Reiner’s throat straining against the belt as it expanded, which only provided even more tightness. However, his smirk disappeared once he felt a familiar warmth building up in his stomach, signaling he was almost at his end. He lowered his head from the thrown-back position it had been in before, and he almost finished on the spot when he saw the lewdness on Reiner’s face. The blond was beet red, his cheeks looking as if he had been slapped over and over—which he had somewhat been, with Eren’s stomach—his mouth berry red and stretched to accommodate the cock he was sucking so deliciously, gobs of spit running down his chin, and tears trailing down those highlighter-red cheeks. God, he looked gorgeous.

“Well,” he mumbled, pulling out of Reiner’s mouth and allowing him a moment to breathe and cough out all the phlegm and irritation gathered up in his throat. He only added more spit to the pool in front of him, falling onto hands and knees as he spat out the last of the spit and precum that accumulated in his throat.

Eren let out an exasperated breath, rolling his eyes as he buried his hand in Reiner’s hair again and roughly tugged him up to his feet, the other whining and complaining the entire way. He faced the blond for only a second before turning him around to face the wall and shoved him against it, his chest pressed against the cold stone. While his hand was busy holding Reiner’s wrists together behind his back, the other trailed down to grip his ass, giving it a firm squeeze before slipping it underneath the waistband of his trousers.

“Your mouth pussy was fantastic, but I want to use the real one,” he explained, his lips leaving the tip of Reiner’s ears bright red as he stroked the soft skin underneath his hand and cupped the mounds of well-built muscle. “What a bubble butt. Heh, you really worked hard on this. If your muscles are this tight, I can’t imagine your asshole.”

“Mm!” Reiner whimpered, his shoulders hiking up to his ears to protect them from the assault of Eren’s hot breath and humiliating words. He tried to break free from Eren’s grip on his wrists, to no avail. Both his wrists and his neck were restricted, and although it was uncomfortable, it only made the throbbing ache in his pants even more painful. How he developed this kink, he had no idea—all he knew was that he wanted relief, now. “Eren...Eren, please. Fuck me. Ple—guh— ”

“Shut up for a second,” Eren commanded as he forced two fingers into Reiner’s already heavily lubricated mouth, sopping up the spit dripping from the roof of his mouth and tongue. He shuddered at the feeling of Reiner’s soft tongue wrapping around his fingers, amazed that such a thing was on his cock only a few moments ago and even more amazed that he didn’t come on the spot. He used his thumb to push Reiner’s pants down to his ankles, marveling at the view of his back muscles rippling under his pale skin, fighting against the restraining grip on his wrists, followed by the elegant slope into the two golden apples for an ass.

“Goddamn,” he breathed, lowering his head and opening his mouth to deliver a deep bite to the virgin skin at the nape of Reiner’s neck, sinking his canines into the flesh in an almost animalistic motion, causing Reiner to jolt from underneath him.

“Eren, stop with the biting!” Reiner pleaded, but he couldn’t help the whispery moan that passed through his lips at the thought of being marked.

“Sorry not sorry,” Eren replied with a snicker, resorting to leaving hickeys to further mark his presence on Reiner’s body, proudly screaming I was here and fucked him beautifully. “You clean back here?”

The mere insinuation that he wasn’t made Reiner want to turn around and snap Eren’s neck right then and there, especially considering he very much doubted Eren was. He grunted, the awkwardness of that question causing nausea to boil in his stomach.

“I...bathed for the festival earlier today,” he explained haltingly, his blush radioactive at this point. But when Eren didn’t move right away, he sighed and opened his legs slightly, wrestling one wrist free and trailing it down to his asscheek, spreading it open as a very clear invitation. “Hurry up.”

Eren’s eyes widened, and a heated smile filled out his face at the sight of Reiner coming completely undone and practically begging to get fucked. Before the spit on his fingers could dry, he spread Reiner’s cheeks with his other fingers and plunged his index and middle fingers inside, earning a squeal from the blond.

“S-slow! Slower!”

A confused look crossed Eren’s face, but he shrugged and continued to scissor Reiner open, curling his fingers against the soft walls to try and find that one spot that drove men crazy. He found out about that quickly while at the hospital, a male nurse being particularly caring and spreading his legs open to cure a patient.

“I thought you’d be looser than this,” he replied, genuinely baffled at how tightly Reiner’s grip around his fingers was. How the hell was he supposed to fit inside? They said the bottom being tight is more pleasurable, but he imagined it’d downright hurt his dick.

“You jackass, I haven’t done it in a-a wh... while,” Reiner stuttered, a grunt sneaking in between his words as he tried to accustom himself to the feeling. He was arching his back as much as possible, but he quickly discovered it could arch much more when a sudden wave of pleasure crashed over him and a lustful cry made his mouth drop.

“Found it,” Eren sang, a proud grin spreading across his lips.

“Hng-! ” was all that came out of Reiner, followed by heavy breathing and small whimpers as he tried to regulate his breathing, but it was difficult when Eren ruthlessly continued abusing that spot now that he knew its location. “Eren...it feels...a-ah…”

“My fingers are magic, I know,” he replied with a shit-eating grin, and although Reiner’s back was to him, he could feel the bratty expression he was making.

“Oh, shut up, you idiot,” Reiner groaned, about to insult the other once more before another wave of pure pleasure corrupted him and returned him to his panting, sweating state.

After a few more moments of scissoring and dirty talk, Eren pulled out his fingers, much to Reiner’s dismay, and gripped himself as he stepped closer and lined himself up with Reiner’s entrance.

“Alright, get ready,” he joked, bracing the wall with one hand and snaking the other around Reiner’s neck once more, pulling his head back so that he could see the look of shock in his eyes as he slowly pushed the tip inside.

“Ngh!” Tears were gathering at the corners of Reiner’s eyes again as he attempted, again and again, to relax and breathe the pain away, but it didn’t help that Eren was so well-endowed. “Just...slow—go slowly.”

Eren pulled out at a snail’s pace, looking down to see where they connected before pushing back in, earning a low groan from both the men. “I don’t even have to try. You’re so tight, I can’t fucking move. Feels like my dick is going to be pulled off.”

Reiner rolled his eyes, about to say something until a sigh interrupted him as Eren continued to pull out and push inside, staying at the same pace. “I can’t control that. I hope your dick gets pulled off. Maybe then you wouldn’t be a murderous basta— hngh!”

A slap echoed in the small room from Eren giving one solid thrust, the roughness of it seen from the reddening of Reiner’s ass. He chuckled at the other’s reaction and tightened his grip on his neck, the belt making it a lot easier to yank him back and force him to meet his eyes. “Watch your words, Braun. Or else,” he gave another rapid thrust, causing the fat on Reiner’s ass to ripple from the force, “that will happen.”

“O-okay, okay, I’m d-done!” Reiner cried, his arm reaching back to grip Eren’s shirt for leverage while the other clung to the wall for dear life. “I promise, I’ll s...nngh...stop.”

“That’s what I thought,” Eren taunted, licking a trail up Reiner’s cheek, picking up the salty tears spilling from his eyes along the way. “You think I can move now without losing my dick?”

Reiner didn’t answer. All he did was lower his head as much as he could with Eren’s grip on it, preparing himself to lose the small ounce of dignity he still had left. He arched his back and pushed back onto Eren’s cock, gasping at the feeling of it spreading him apart and leaving him so perfectly full. He swirled his hips, trying to find that spot Eren so easily discovered, all the while pulling out and swirling his hips as he pushed back. It was quite the ab workout, causing sweat to build up on his hairline and building a thin sheen on his skin.

This was heaven on Earth. The view was spectacular, but what was more spectacular was watching Reiner act like a complete slut, as if Eren’s cock was the only thing that could bring him relief and pleasure. He was really willing to give up all his dignity just to use it to pleasure himself, and Eren couldn’t have been more willing of a participant.

“I guess that’s the answer to my question,” he breathed, a moan causing him to throw his head back. He dropped both his hands to Reiner’s hips, riding alongside their gyrating motions. “Yeah...that’s nice. Keep moving like that.”

“Eren,” Reiner warned, looking over his shoulder now that his neck was freed. “Eren, move, goddamn it.”

Eren cocked his head. “Is that how you ask for it?”

“Oh, for fuck’s—Eren, please, fuck me. Ruin me, do what you want, just please fuck m— ”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” It only took half a second for Eren to comply with Reiner's wishes, snapping his hips forward and sending Reiner careening toward the wall, his face pressed up against the stone just like his chest was. He’d definitely have scrapes on his face as it bounced up and down with each merciless thrust that practically sent him up the wall.

“ Ahn—ugh! Fuck, fuck, yes! Feels good, f-feels so—hnngh! ” The dry slapping noises eventually turned into wet, squelching sounds that would have made Reiner cringe, but he could barely hear them in the fugue state he was in. Eren was right: he felt like a dog in heat, his mind on nothing else but getting pounded until he was filled.

“Faster! God, faster! Ngh, harder!”

Reiner’s moans leaked, and as much as he wanted to stop, he didn’t have the energy since all of it was going into not finishing right then and there. It was just what he needed, except…

He tilted his head back, which was difficult with how roughly Eren was slamming into him, but he eventually caught Eren’s eye and smiled. “Choke me, Eren. Choke me until I can’t breathe.”

Eren smiled back, his grin malicious. “You got it, sweetheart.”

He took that command to heart because instead of one hand this time around, he used both hands, wrapping them around Reiner’s neck and using that for leverage instead of his hips. It was honestly a nicer angle to better fuck Reiner into oblivion, and he used it to his full advantage.

Smack, smack, smack, smack…

“ Guh— ugh, fu-uck,” Reiner groaned, practically gargling his own words with how he could barely breathe. Meanwhile, Eren was struggling with holding back his own moans with how velvety soft Reiner’s walls were, hugging him like the most comfortable sweater in the world. How did he go this long without taking advantage of the hole that had been around him all this time?

“I never thought you’d be this easy of a lay,” Eren remarked, graduating one hand’s place from Reiner’s neck to his hair, pulling it and pushing his face into the concrete. “Who knew you’d open up to me this easily? If I knew, I would’ve fought Bertholdt for access to your ass.”

The fog of lust clouding Reiner’s brain long enough for him to understand and process Eren’s comments, and, even though it was nearly impossible to speak anything other than moans and whines and emote anything other than pleasure, he still attempted to reach backward and scratch Eren’s hip, leaving three bright marks on the tanned skin.

“After this is over, I’m going to kill you,” Reiner managed to say when Eren stopped shortly to readjust his angle. He was very grateful for that split second of clarity because once Eren started up, instead of brushing against that spot, he was directly nailing it over and over with perfect precision.

“ OH— oh, my God, I-I’m—too much, too much, I’m so— ah, hah... c-close—!” Reiner was incoherent at this point, finally reaching the “brains fucked out” stage of this brutal hookup. He could no longer think. All he could do was moan, pant, and cry out each time his spot was abused.

“ Hah—I’m gonna come soon, t-too,” Eren breathed, having his own difficulties with speech. He tried to act as cool and collected for as long as possible, but now, it was nearly impossible, with each thrust drawing out the warm feeling in his stomach more and more. It also didn’t help that Reiner kept tightening around him with each thrust, giving him all the components to finish. He just needed one thing.

“Where do you want it?” Eren whispered, dropping his head to take advantage of the last few moments to leave more hickeys all along Reiner’s neck and collarbones.

Reiner was beyond redemption at this point, evidenced by the fact that he all but screamed out, “Inside! Please, inside, come inside, I n-need it, I need you, please, I—”

His orgasm was sudden and unexpected, but Eren hit his spot at the perfect angle and speed, causing it to rip through his body. He was left speechless, going rigid as his vision spotted before going completely white, finally receiving the release he had been chasing over the past half hour. He heard somebody wailing, and when his consciousness returned to him, he realized he was the one making that awful noise, his vocal cords frying themselves with the unadulterated ecstasy running through his system.

Eren didn’t take much longer to follow, giving a few more slams—rougher than all the ones preceding them—before coming undone deep inside Reiner, groaning at the feeling of warmth coating Reiner’s walls and making his insides even hotter than they already were. But he wasn’t done. In his state of bliss, he managed to pull out of Reiner—earning a pitiful whimper from the other—and turn him around to push down on his shoulders so that he was on his knees again.

“Fuck, fuck—fuck! ” Eren couldn’t help the countless exclamations of pleasure that racked his body as he stroked himself furiously in front of Reiner’s face. The last of his come splashed on Reiner’s face, coating his cheeks and the bridge of his nose in the milky white substance. Yet again, he wasn’t done. He smeared the tip across Reiner’s lips, painting them with the same glossy color. And with that, he was done, stepping back to admire his handiwork. He grinned, satisfied with the result.

He had completely ruined Reiner Braun. His hair was tangled and sticking out in all different places. His eyes were red from crying. His face was completely coated in sticky, hot semen. He could barely open his lips without it stringing between them. Tears stained his splotched cheeks, and dried saliva ran down the entirety of his chin and throat. His chest was red as well, full of bite marks and hickeys. His neck was a completely different story—it was probably rubbed raw and full of scratches and finger indentations, all of which were hidden under the belt. And then…

“Turn around for me and bend over,” Eren said, his last demand of the night.

He had evidently turned Reiner into an obedient subordinate because without a single complaint or hesitation, the blond nodded submissively and turned around, revealing his back that was full of scratches and the deep bite mark at the nape of his neck. To think, he’d probably be targeting that nape in a couple of minutes once again, except it’d be for the kill. He wondered if, when he’d rip Reiner from the nape of his Titan’s neck and admire his dead body, the bite mark on his neck would still be there.

Reiner bent over, lifting his ass in the air and dropping his chest and face to the floor, a look of pure embarrassment on his soiled face.

“Beautiful,” Eren whispered to himself as he watched his come pour out of Reiner’s hole, running down his leg and dripping onto the ground. “Satisfied?”

Reiner, from his docile place on the floor, nodded his head, his hair flowing back and forth on the ground. “Y-yes...thank you…”

He then collapsed to the floor, his hips no longer able to sustain his own weight. His legs were trembling, never having experienced such a savage fucking before. It had always been loving, sweet, slow. But he quickly found that he had been severely deprived of something he so desperately needed. He’d probably get brain damage from all the choking he was going to do in the future, but that didn’t matter. He already planned on dying soon, anyway.

“I’m going...to kill you...after this,” Reiner continued, severely out of breath.

Eren walked over silently, squatting down and brushing the hair out of Reiner’s sweaty and dirtied face. “I’d like to see you try. You can barely walk.”

He laughed and pat Reiner on the rear, standing back up and walking over to the exit as he fixed his trousers and buttoned them.

“But thanks for the good fuck. I needed that. Honestly, if I hadn’t made everybody from Paradis come rescue me today, I’d save this battle for another day. I’m feeling very…” He lifted up his hands, looking at his nails and running his fingers through his hair. “...relaxed right now.”

Reiner was half-asleep, but he was conscious enough to have heard Eren’s words loud and clear. He snapped his head up and turned to stare at Eren to see if what he heard was the truth, but all he was met with was Eren adjusting his shirt and tightening his hair into a bun.

“P-Paradis?”

“Yeah. Heh.” Eren looked over his shoulder and winked. “I’ll catch you out there, then. If you manage to survive, come to Paradis. I’ll give you a very special welcome.”

And with that, Eren Yeager exited the room heavy with the smell of sex and quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Reiner Braun was left alone—used and besmirched with a fucked-out mind—to mull over what just happened and what will happen in only a handful of minutes.

Eren fucking Yeager.

#attack on titan #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger #eren yeager #reiner braun #eren x reiner #smut #aot smut #fanfiction

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mobagehelllocal · 4 years

Text

“do you even lift, bro?”

Not exactly a prompt but just a suggestion where the dorm leaders fem s!o wants to carry them bridal style? Maybe they got injured or maybe she just wanted to show her strength? How will everyone react? Thanks a lot :) -- From @blackstrawberrynightmare.

A/N: Thank you so much for this! This was a very fun break from the “holding the world” series ahahah~ I enjoyed it a lot and I think it sort of became crack? I hope this makes everyone who reads it laugh at least once! Please tell me what you think~

other versions: ver i (this), ver ii (dire, divus, ashton), ver iii (leech twins, jamil, epel, rook, lilia)

“Bet I could bench press you.”

“I beg your pardon?” Riddle turned to you with the most incredulous face ever, and you giggled in response. “What is... a bench press?” Riddle struggled, his expression looked as if he was thinking back onto all your conversations--he tried to remember if you’ve ever mentioned this... bench press before.

“It’s basically when I hold you like this” you opened your palms facing upright, “and then I lift you like this--” you proceeded to move your hands up and down.

“Absolutely not.”

“But Riddle!” you pouted, and he narrowed his eyes in turn, his arms crossed.

“I refuse to be... bench pressed.” He pressed his lips tight together, and you sighed, disappointed.

“One day I’ll convince you.”

“That day will never come.”

“Then next time, I won’t ask for permission.”

“You--” Riddle glared, his cheeks red. “--never mind.” he scoffed, as he looked away. “What makes you think you can carry me anyways?”

“Ah, but I can!”

“I don’t believe it.” Unfortunately for Riddle, you were waiting for something like that.

“Then let me prove my strength~”

“What are you doing? Why are you bending down--Wait, don’t you dare--guh!”

You proceeded to wrap your arms behind his knees, and around his back. With barely a blink, you swept him up into your arms.

Riddle gaped when you barely flinched. While Riddle was small, he wasn’t exactly light. Or at least, that’s what he liked to think. You looked down at him, and wiggled your eyebrows.

“Have I made you fall in love, prince of my heart?” You delighted in the embarrassed red flush on his cheeks. He began to struggle in your arms, but you held on pretty tight--enough that the most he could do was attempt to push you away with his hands.

“Let me down,” his brow furrowed, and from embarrassed red he slowly turned to angry red, “this instant.”

“No way, this is too fun.” you giggled, as he struggled harder in response.

“If you don’t I’ll--” he stopped short, realizing he really didn’t have leverage against you. He couldn’t exactly use his unique magic on you. You grinned cheekily at him, and he crossed his arms grumpily in response. “... Since when were you so strong anyways?”

“Always?”

“You didn’t say anything.” he pointed out and you cocked your head to the side in thought.

“I guess it’s like you with your magic. You’ve always had it, you’ve always been good at it.” you shrugged, “it’s normal to me. So I never thought it was something that needed explaining?” He sighed in response, he could understand your point after all.

“... When will you let me down?”

“Never.” you cuddled close and his blush that had originally calmed down--intensified.

“--!” he sighed, before he let you. It should be fine as long as nobody walked in.

“Prefect, Riddle--” Cater walked in, only for his eyes to widen, and his hand snapped up immediately to take a photo.

“Cater!” Riddle looked murderous, and he tried to leap out of your arms to grab the third year who laughed nervously, and hesitantly stepped back. “[Name]! Let go of me right now!”

“Sorry, can’t do Riddle,” you giggled. “Cater! Send me that photo, okay~?”

“[Name]!”

“There’s a reason I adore you Prefect!” Cater laughed, as he snapped more photos.

“What’s going on?” Trey ducked into the room, and paused at the sight. Riddle sputtered, as Trey immediately turned around to snicker.

“Cater I want those photos too--”

“YOU ALL--!”

“Leona!” you tried to call the man’s attention, but he only turned away, his tail thumped heavily on the ground.

“No.”

“But you need to get to class!” you protested, “don’t you have a super important thing today?”

“Hngh... zzz...”

“Hey! Don’t you dare fall asleep on me!” The lack of a response made your eye twitch. “Fine... if that’s what you’re gonna do--then I’ll have to resort to--”

When there was a sudden silence, Leona smirked, the moment you approached him--he would drag you down to the ground with him, and quiet you down by--

That is until he felt your small, delicate hands dig underneath his back then legs and within a moment--he hissed in surprise, and you smirked in response--you carried him in your arms, bridal style.

“-carrying you.” You snickered at him. “how do you like it, Leona?”

You’ve never seen him so surprised. His eyes were wide, his pupils huge (’like a cat’s!’ you couldn’t help but inwardly squeal), his ears were flattened against his head, his tail was actually still--and from the little of it that you could see of it--it seemed like the fur was standing upright too.

‘One day,’ you solemnly swore to yourself, ‘I’ll surprise him by, I dunno--bench pressing him with one hand so I can take a photo with the other hand.’

Leona just stared at you, his mouth slightly agape.

Sure, Afterglow Savanna was filled with incredibly strong women. However no one has ever attempted to carry Leona. Primarily because he wouldn’t let anyone--and also because his pride wouldn’t let him. He knew that women outside of Afterglow Savanna weren’t the same as the women within the kingdom. So he had figured you wouldn’t be able to carry him...

Give him a moment, his pride was just damaged, in the same moment you’ve suddenly become all the more attractive to him.

‘In the culture of his kingdom, especially for the royal family--what made a great wife, is a strong woman. Here you were, proving just how perfect you were for him.’ He could feel the heat rise to his face upon that realization, and he struggled to calm his heart down--fervently hoping that nothing showed on his face.

“Hello? Leona?” He was still super still in your arms, and you shrugged. “Ah well, since you aren’t resisting, this will be easier for me.” So you began to carry him out of the garden. At your sudden movement, he twitched in your arms, and tried to get off. Unfortunately for him, being able to lift a man of his height and weight also meant that you had a pretty strong grip.

“Nope.” you shook your head. “You wouldn’t get up earlier, so I’ll just carry you to class.”

“Let me go He-” he paused, ‘Could he still call you herbivore, given you’ve proven you’re not a herbivore?’

At his sudden, uncharacteristic hesitance, you glanced down at him. Wow, he’s being really weird today.

“Leona... are you okay?” He opened his mouth to respond, when his ears twitched, and he struggled harder in your arms.

“He--[Name], put me down, right now.” he practically hissed.

“What? No way! You’re clearly not enjoying this, therefore I am.” ‘Hah! Take that for all the heartbeats I wasted on you, you big tease!’ He growled in response, about to snap back when--

“Is that... Leona?” You blinked, head turned in the direction of the voice, while Leona slackened in your arms, and groaned. “with [Name] carrying him? Shishishi!”

“Oh! Hi Ruggie~ Jack~ I’m off to bring your dorm leader to his class~”

Ruggie was practically bent forward, as he both cried and laughed. Meanwhile Jack just stared at you with the widest eyes, and biggest open mouth you’ve seen on him.

“Hahahah! Leona--being carried like a bride! Wait I need a photo!” Ruggie snickered as he pulled out his phone.

“Oi! Ruggie! Don’t you dare--!”

“Oho, I see you’re a hyena of culture Ruggie! How do you want me to pose?”

“Well if you can just--”

“You herbi-[Name]--don’t encourage him!” Leona yelled, clearly exasperated. At the corner of his eye, he noticed that Jack’s shoulders were shaking. The student had desperately covered his mouth--trying to hide his own laugh.

‘Great,’ he scowled. ‘they’ll never let me live this down.’

“You’re doing great Azul!” Jamil yelled, with a very wide, self-satisfied smirk on his face as the trembling octopus merman flew into the air on his broom. Azul would’ve shaken his fist at the snake if he wasn’t clinging onto the broom as hard as he was. ‘Is he that mad about the burn cure incident in our alchemy class?’ Azul thought, but the broom wobbled and his grip tightened on it in response.

“Unbelievable these land dwellers,” Azul cursed underneath his breath. “I just learnt how to walk on two legs last school year and now they want me to fly? They want a merman in the air? Absurd. Complete savages the lot of them.”

Now when it came to magic—the most important thing is being able to believe in your ability to do it. Be it believing in your ability to manipulate elements, or believing in your ability to conjure something out of thin air.

This applied to flying too.

Unfortunately for the octopus... he was so distracted as he cursed in the language of the seas—he forgot about the fact he was flying.

Hence his broom started to wobble.

He only realized the problem when his broom started to jerk around.

“Oh—“ he let out more curses in his native language and closed his eyes, “ok you can do this Azul. I believe I can fly! I believe I can fly—“

But he didn’t really so—his broom grew to be even crazier with his movements.

“Hey! Azul! Open your eyes! Calm down!” Jamil yelled out. Caught up in his own panic, Azul didn’t hear him.

“I believe I can flyIbelieveIcanflyIbelieveIcanfly--” Azul chanted, but when he opened his eyes and saw how high he was--

“Ah carp, I’m gonNA DIE!” Azul shrieked, and shut his eyes tight--which led to him getting flung off his broom.

“Oh scarab.” Jamil swore as he tried to run after the free falling octopus, only to stumble to a stop when he saw--

“Gotcha!”

One moment he was free falling, then the next moment he’s caught, and pressed close to your chest. Azul’s eyes flew open in response to hearing your voice. You looked down at him with a wide smile.

You were carrying him--like a bride. Your hold was gentle, but firm--and the smile you sent him was tinted with worry--but it turned to amusement with the way he gaped at you.

Azul’s eyes glistened, and you’re pretty sure he would start crying any second now if you didn’t immediately distract him. You didn’t want him to be sad after all.

“You rang for a Princess Charming?~” you tossed in a wink, and he promptly turned red in response.

“You--ga--wha--” Azul gaped at the fact you carried him in your arms with ease.

“[Surname]!” you looked up to see that the rest of Azul’s second year class had ran up to you too. You easily hiked Azul up in your arms (which he yelped at), as you stood upright. Ashton Vargas looked at you with glitter in his eyes, and you took an involuntary step back at his expression.

“That! WAS! IMPRESSIVE!” Professor Vargas boomed, “That catch was magnificent! You barely stumbled! No recoil at all!”

“I’m really strong.” You said with a shrug of your shoulders. “I never really had a problem with doing physical stuff. I just braced myself properly to catch Azul.” you held out your arms, where the octopus, still completely bewildered, lay--still slack from the shock.

“Since when could you do that, [Surname]?”

“I always could...?” you shrugged your shoulders in response. “I just never needed to use it.” you laughed awkwardly.

“Is Ashengrotto alright?” Vargas looked at the merman, and tried to look at his expression.

“I think I should take him to the infirmary.” you said, “he’s still in shock.”

“Right, right. You do that.” Vargas stroked his beard. “Carry on. I’ll have Viper update Ashengrotto if he misses out on anything.” Jamil flinched, and shot a guilty glance at Azul then at you. You shot him a smile, in response and mouthed that you’d tell Azul he was sorry. Jamil looked relieved.

“Sure Professor.” with that you turned around, and relaxed your hold on Azul.

“...How’d you know?”

“Hm?”

“... That I didn’t want to be seen... like that.”

“You mean crying?” You gave him a love filled smile that made his heart beat even faster. “Well the answer is simple. I am your girlfriend after all.” His face turned red again.

“Thank you.” Azul sighed, “I feel like you saved me twice today.”

“And I’ll keep saving you whenever you need me.” That gentle grin--full of your adoration for him is enough for his blush to darken.

“Please put me down.”

“Oh no, I refuse.” you squeezed. “I think you’re cute in my arms~”

“I want my octopus pot right now.”

Extra:

“Oh my.”

“Carp.” Azul swore, as he saw the Leech twins up ahead. Floyd let out a happy gasp, before he ran right over.

“Ooooh! I want to be carried too--!”

“Wait Floyd--don’t just jump--AH!”

“Oh my, my.” Jade snickered to himself as you easily caught Floyd, but started to stumble.

“Jade!” wailed Azul from underneath the laughing Floyd.

“Woah! Shrimpy strong!”

“Don’t move too much! Ah! Wait! My balance--”

As you entered the Scarabia Dorms to visit Kalim, you noticed a commotion. More specifically--a bunch of animals going wild. You also quickly noticed Jamil off to the side, hissing out sharp commands.

You ran up to him, and waited for him to acknowledge you. Which he does, easily enough.

“Ah, Prefect, you’re here.” he had a long suffering expression on his face, and you tilted your head.

“Someone forgot to lock up all the animals this morning so...” he sighed. “We’re trying to calm them down.”

“Ah, I see.” you looked around, “any way I can help?”

“You don’t have to, please sit with Kalim.” he gestured to an empty chair. Something in your stare must’ve been telling, because he visibly paled and went:

“He... he’s not there.... is he?” he said in a very weak and pitiful tone.

“No he’s not.” you said, as gently as possible. “Would you like me to help?”

“Yes please.”

“Alright.” you slammed your fist against your open palms. “He’s likely wherever it’s most difficult.” Jamil nodded, before he made a very deadpanned expression.

‘Ah.’

“... He’s with the elephants.” you both said in unison, and you both rushed off in the direction.

You find him easy.

There he was, in the middle of the path, faced away from the approaching elephants.

“Jamil! [Name]!” he waved--WAVED! All cheeky too! While in the midst of danger. Jamil looked like he was having a heart attack, so you quickly darted to Kalim.

“Wait! [Name]!” you quickly scooped Kalim up into your arms, bridal style, before you tossed yourself as hard as you could out of the fray. You exhaled in relief, before you feel Kalim wrap his arms around your neck, to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“My hero!” he laughed, all jovial, as if he hadn’t nearly been in mortal danger.

“Kalim! That was dangerous!”

“Yeah but we got out of it alright!” he said, as he waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “What’s more important is--! I didn’t realize how strong you were!” When he looked at you with those sparkly eyes, it was easy to falter, and forget about everything that could you upset.

The adrenaline finally rushed out of you, and you crashed to your knees, after which you buried your head into the crook of his neck.

“[N-Name]?” his voice was confused, and even flustered. Any other time, you would be eager to see his expression, but for now--

“Please... be more careful next time.”

“.... Uhn... I’m sorry! I’ll try not to make you worry so much!” Kalim pulled away from you to look at your face. “What kind of boyfriend will I be if I make you hurt like that, yeah?”

You exhaled, relieved. “Yes, exactly.”

You both share a smile, then soft giggles--before it turned into full blown laughter.

That is until--

“What do you think you were doing Kalim?” Jamil hissed, his expression dark.

“Oh--well, that is” Kalim sweated in response, and you attempted to melt into the background until Jamil’s dark gaze moved to you.

“And you as well--” he gritted his teeth, “running out like that--!”

“Wait--why are you blaming me?”

“You both nearly gave me a heart attack!” when he looked up, his eyes glowed with a sinister light.

“Oh no.”

“...[Name]... save me.”

“Already on it.” you hopped onto your feet, and darted off with Jamil hot on your heels.

“Come back here you two!”

Now, normally when people were surrounding your ridiculously pretty boyfriend you were fine with it. He was a model after all. You didn’t really mind him interacting with his fans--you were perfectly fine with stepping out of the way, and giving them a few minutes to talk to Vil.

You could relate.

After all, you didn’t call yourself Vil’s number one fan for nothing.

You were lucky enough to be able to hoard Vil to yourself so much, so you were always willing to share ‘Vil the model’ with his fans.

‘It’s fine. I’m completely fine.’ you crossed your arms. You hoped your face wasn’t irritated, or upset. You understood how important fan interactions are but--

‘It’s our first date in awhile, and I really wanted to enjoy private time with Vil.’ you thought mournfully, as you eyed the gaggle of boys and girls who surrounded your Vil.

If Vil was upset--it wasn’t visible on his face at all. In fact, as per usual, he enjoyed his time with his fans. (Which made you feel even worse.) He made sure to acknowledge each one of them, and looked them straight in the eye. It caused a lot of the fans to go red, and nearly faint (once more, absolutely relatable--those eyes? With those lashes? Up close? Even you had difficulty breathing with him that close.)

You looked at the time, only to inhale sharply at the fact he’s been at it for at least an hour. Plus--based on the way the crowd around him only grew, you two would never get to finish your date.

‘Alright, I’m sorry,’ you thought, ‘but I’m going to have to get in the way.’

When Vil looked up to search for you outside the crowd, he couldn’t see you. He mentally frowned. He was grateful that you were always willing to adjust to his fans, but at times--he wouldn’t mind if you were a little bit more selfish with him.

He had given you himself--he as Vil Schoenheit. The world--his fans--they might have Vil Schoenheit as the influencer and model--but you had him, for himself. The Vil with no make up in the morning, the Vil who would cheat his diet for some sweets, the Vil who wasn’t as put together as the world saw. You saw all his flaws--the imperfections, the things he found ugly--yet you held him, told him he was your world despite that.

That was something.

No, it is something.

He hoped you knew, that no matter what, that made you so irreplaceable... so important to him.

After all, beyond his prowess as a poisoner, beyond his fame as a model--who would stand by him when that was all gone?

He hoped it was you.

“Sorry everyone, but I’ll have to steal my boyfriend away now.”

He turned to you, surprised but excited that you were going to steal him away.

‘Now how would you do that, sweet potato?’

He saw you bend down, then quite literally--sweep him off his feet. He’s surprised--and his first reaction is to wrap his arms around your neck. You ignored the gasp of fans, as you quickly run off without a single misstep.

“I finally have you, my ah... damsel in distress?” you quirked your brow, not sure if you said it right. Vil only laughed and pressed his lips against your cheek. When he pulls back, there’s a very obvious lipstick mark on your cheek.

“You finally saved me, my Princess Charming.” he said, and you blinked down at him.

“I was just... selfish.”

Oh! And how much did that warm his heart--to know how much you wanted to dominate his time, as much as he did.

“You can always be selfish with me.” He told you quietly, with a gentle smile.

“I mean--are you sure?”

“Of course! I am your boyfriend after all!” He cocked his head to the side, “now, you didn’t tell me you were strong enough to carry me around.”

“It never came up?”

“Then, I’ll rely on you to save me more--alright?”

You stared into his eyes--honest, and loving, coupled with how genuinely enchanting Vil was well--you broke away first with a faint blush on your cheeks.

“... Of course...”

EXTRA:

“How cute...” Rook purred.

“Aside from how weird it is that we’re following them on their date...” Epel paused. “I wonder if [Name] would tell me how she got so strong?”

You burst into Idia’s room, frantic and worried after receiving a text from Ortho, about his brother collapsing.

“[Name]!” Ortho called out relieved, as he pointed out Idia--slumped onto the ground, groaning.

“What happened Ortho?” you frowned, as you knelt, and carefully turned your boyfriend onto his back.

“He just suddenly collapsed, and I don’t know why.” Ortho fretted, you leant forward and pressed your forehead against his, only for you to reel back quickly in surprise.

“I think he’s running a fever.” you frowned, “we’ll have to take him to the infirmary.”

“But how?”

“I’ll carry him, of course.” Ortho’s mouth dropped in surprise when you easily scooped up his brother. With Idia’s long hair trailing to the ground and limp body, it did look like you had just finished saving a princess.

“Woah! [Name] you look so cool!” Ortho stared up at you with shining eyes, and you giggled in response.

“Thanks Ortho. Now go run ahead and tell the nurse I’m bringing your irresponsible brother to the office, alright?”

“Mhm!”

On the walk there, Idia stirred in your arms.

“Oh, are you finally awake?” you teased, at which his eyes widened and he immediately froze in your arms.

“[Name]?” he squeaked out, then frantically looked around before he met your gaze again. “Wait--are you carrying me?”

“To the nurse’s office, yes” you said, amused.

“Please put me down!”

“Absolutely not, after all--you made Ortho and I worry a lot!” you huffed at him, “so suffer in the arms of your girlfriend a little longer!”

“Everyone is staring!” he whimpered.

“Well if a certain someone didn’t forget to take care of themselves while they got into the new dlc for Gao Gao Shield and Sword...” Idia whined in response.

“I needed to complete the GaoDex before anyone else! I was one Gao Gao away from completing it, before this upstart mystery player LilV actually managed to beat me--” he buried his face in his palms. “I was so close...”

“There there.” you tried to rub his back as best as you could. “Isn’t there another dlc still coming out later this year?” He brightened up at that.

“That’s right, I’ll start training my resistance to hunger and--” he winced at the glare you shoot at him.

“If you’re going to do it, do it in a healthy manner Idia.” you frowned, “if not for me--then for Ortho.”

He paused, as he lowered the hands covering his face to stare at your face. You were genuinely worried for his sake, and he thought: ‘oh no, this is like picking the wrong choice in Water Crest: Seven Dorms and my support level is going down!’ he inwardly panicked, ‘I worked pretty hard to grind to level S! Of course I need to maintain it because I--’ he felt his face flush red. ‘because I really like [Name]... and I don’t want her to worry so--’

“I’ll... I’ll be more careful.” he looked away, bashful, and you stared at him--surprised. You didn’t think it would be easy--he loved gaming. You wouldn’t want him to change--only to take care of himself more.

So now that he was saying this then--

‘I’ll meet him halfway.’ you decided.

“Next time I’ll stay with you.” you said, with a sweet smile. “so if you get caught up in it, I’ll get you back on track.”

“Are you sure? You might get bored?”

“Now why would I get bored?” you shoot him a sly smile, “I’m spending time with my boyfriend after all~”

“...”

“Ah! Idia you’re heating up!”

“That’s because--! Ughh--! I didn’t realize there was an SS support conversation!”

“A what?”

“So are your horns heavy?”

Malleus cocked his head at your sudden question.

“I’m... confused... with this question, bright light.”

“Eh...” you move your hands around as you spoke, “I don’t know, I guess I was just curious if your horns... like maybe had a certain weight to them? Like... does your neck hurt?” you tilted your head. “Like... does it feel like when you’re holding a staff? Maybe?” You paused as you looked back at the dark fae.

“Sorry, was that a weird question? Is it... intrusive? Or something?”

“No it is not.” he shook his head gently. “I suppose I can not really tell. I have had my horns all my life so I can not say if they are light or heavy.”

“Could I try--like seeing if they’re heavy?” He quirked his brow in response.

“You can try,” he paused, “but how exactly will you do that, bright light?”

“Like this.” With barely a blink, you gestured for him to crouch lower. He did so--confused. When you suddenly picked Malleus up into your arms, you do so with such a smoothness that he froze.

“Huh, your horns are slightly heavy I think.” You adjusted him in your arms, you definitely felt a difference in weight closer to the side where his horns were. “Tsunotarou? Bright eyes? Two hundred and two centimeters? Malmal? Are you okay?”

(You were unaware of Sebek behind you, who had attempted to rush out to save his young lord. Lilia pulled him back with one hand, his other hand covered his guffaw. On his other side, Silver was very awake--also surprised that a human girl was able to just sweep the young lord into you arms with barely a flinch or stagger.)

You squinted at him, only to realize his pupils were wide--wider than you’ve ever seen before. His lips were parted slightly, as he stared at you. He looked absolutely stunned.

“Um? Are you okay--”

“Heh...” Malleus raised a hand to his lips, before he started laughing out loud.

“Woah Malmal, you look sort of... crazy.”

“Heheh... Hahahah!” Malleus laughed, “Interesting! So very fascinating, my bright light.”

“Uh?”

“To think you would have the gall to lift the Heir to the Valley of Thorns--to think you had the strength to do so--will you ever stop being so intriguing, my bright light?”

“I’ll try not too?” you replied, in a confused tone, and Malleus continued to chuckle lightly in your arms. His eyes became gentle at your response.

‘I keep wondering why I find you so fascinating...’ he mused, ‘but it is truly simple--you are not afraid to treat me as... myself I suppose. You did not see me as Heir of the Valley of Thrones--you saw me as a man with horns-- a man with bright eyes--’

‘You do not treat me as delicate... but at the same time, you do not treat me as something to be feared.’

‘You are like a light... a light with the potential to burn away all the darkness...’ he held your confused gaze, ‘will you do it? Bright light? Will you persevere in this world not yours--and show it how bright you can be?’

‘Whether you do or not--you are perhaps, the only one, the first one I can consider a friend--an equal.’

“You look really deep in thought, bright eyes.” You said, and he hummed.

“It is nothing.” When you moved to let him down, Malleus’s arms looped its way around your neck.

“Ah?”

“I would like to stay in your arms for a little longer, bright light.” He met your gaze, and you blushed at the intensity in those eyes. “Would you indulge me?”

“--That is... of course, Tsunotaro.” His smile widened, and your heart melted at how genuinely happy it was. To think he used to gaze at the world with such sadness...

If little things like this was enough to make him happy, then you want to do it more often.

Ai’s Glossary For TWST Swear Words *I primarily came up with this because I don’t think swear words are the same in different worlds--? So I decided I should just come up with them. (✧≖‿ゝ≖)

- “Oh my Queen” / “Sweet Witch” / “Dear Sorcerer” ... you get the drill - basically equivalent to our “oh my god”, “sweet lord”, “dear god”

- “Oh carp” - unique to the Octavinelle dorm. It’s basically “oh crap” or “oh shit.” Variation include “holy carp.”

- “Oh scarab” - unique to the Scarabia dorm. Perhaps specifically unique to Jamil too. It’s the same as above, except he uses scarab instead of carp.

1K notes · View notes

skiller0dani · 4 years

Text

Always | Draco Malfoy

M A S T E R L I S T Harry Potter Masterlist

smut requested requests info

wow I got such an amazing response to Part 1, thank you! So here is the highly requested Part 2! Enjoy :) also I miiight have listened to the Lion King soundtrack (this song specifically) while writing this?? I know that doesn’t make sense but it’s what was making me feel creative don’t judge me. Part 3 maybe? ;)

Part 2/10 (Part 1)(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6)(Part 7)(Part 8)(Part 9)(Part 10)

also there aren’t enough words in the English language to describe the amount of love I have for Draco Malfoy. I’ve been reading these books and watching the movies since I was like 3 or 4 years old (I’m not even kidding). I always connected so deeply with Draco, I truly adore him. And while Tom Felton did an excellent job as Draco, it really is the character I’m in love with.

Read Part 3 here!

Missed Part 1? Catch up here!

Nothing felt right, and you didn’t know why. Everything just felt, off. The looks you were getting from Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn’t help either. You tried to keep your focus on the parchment in front of you, but the look Hermione was giving you was starting to irritate you.

“What?” You asked impatiently, looking up at her and thoroughly startling her. She quickly shook her head before you packed away all your things and pushed out of the common room. They all looked at you with pity or concern, and the fact that they’re worried isn’t what annoys you. It’s that you don’t know why they’re worried. You felt emotion swelling in your chest and you don’t know why. Dammit! What’s the matter with you? You furiously wipe away tears, desperately wishing you knew what was going on lately. You followed the direction your feet took you and found yourself nearing the top of the astronomy tower.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize anyone was here.” You mumbled uncomfortably when you noticed somebody leaning against the railing. He doesn’t answer, but by the glimpse of white blonde hair atop his head you know who it is. Draco Malfoy.

You feel the urge to speak to him but you don’t know what to say. “It’s fine, I was just leaving.” He says gruffly, his face void of emotion as he turns to head to the stairs. You watch him go down the stairs and your feet are moving before you can stop them, “you don’t have to go. I don’t mind if you stay.” You say softly, a blush searing over your cheeks. Draco’s eyes flutter across your face before laughing bitterly. “I’d rather not, you’re nothing more than a filthy mudblood.” He spat, with something you couldn’t understand gleaming in his eyes. You flinched, recoiling from him before turning back up the stairs- wiping tears from your eyes. You don’t know how you let yourself forget how cruel he is, how unloving. You won’t make that mistake again.

Draco turns down the stairs, his throat closing as he blinks hot tears from his eyes. You have no idea how badly he wants to hold you, to press his lips to yours and tell you how much he loves you. But he’s a Death Eater and you’re related to Harry Potter. Being with you, even in the same room as you, is too dangerous. Draco just feels numb, and he doesn’t want to feel anything anymore.

Harry knows sooner or later he’s going to have to ask Malfoy what on Earth happened to you. One second you’re crying into Harry’s shoulder about how you feel like you’re losing Draco and then that evening you’re your usual bubbly self, laughing and doing your work and saying ‘Draco who?’ If Draco altered your memories like Harry feared he did, he wants to know why. The only reason Harry isn’t angry is because he knows how much you mean to Draco, so if Draco changed your memories then he must have thought doing so would keep you safe.

You lean against the railing, feeling a weird sense of deja vu as you turn to press the railing to your back. Your hand curls around the cool metal railing, looking straight ahead of you at someone you feel should be standing there. It feels like an itch at the back of your head that you can’t scratch, just bugging you constantly. Something is wrong. You want to know what it is. You hear footsteps up the stairs and when you lock eyes with Blaise Zabini, surprised is an understatement. “Blaise?” Your voice comes out at a question, and he offers you a half-cocked smile. In truth he’s always had a thing for you, and now that you and Draco aren’t together anymore he assumes you’re fair game.

“Nice night,” He comments off offhandedly. You nod with a slight blush, Blaise is cute. He’s certainly not the most attractive person in this school, annoyingly Draco is probably the best looking man in this school. Despite his cruel remarks. Blaise comes to stand next to you, slightly closer than you’re comfortable with. “So I’ve been meaning to ask you something, since you and Draco aren’t together anymore,” He starts and you furrow your eyebrows together. You and Draco?

“There never was a me and Draco.” You correct, confusion in your tone. The confusion on Blaise’s face is unmistakable but he chooses not to say anything.

“Right, so I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to got to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow.” Blaise asks, letting his eyes drift down your body briefly. In all honesty, you hadn’t ever given Blaise much thought all you knew was that he was part of Draco’s group of bullies. “Uh sure.” You answer uncertainly, it could be fun? You’d never been to Hogsmeade with anything except for that one time with Harry when the two of you sneaked into Hogsmeade through Honeydukes cellar. It would give you a chance to know Blaise better, maybe he wasn’t as bad as he seemed.

The portrait closed behind Blaise as he’d entered the common room, a look of smug victory strew on his face. “Hey Draco, I asked Y/N to Hogsmeade, hope you don’t mind.” Draco stiffened immediately. His eyebrows furrowed together and a pit formed in the bottom of his stomach, “what?” Draco’s voice was tense as he turned to look at Blaise. His first reaction was to lash out violently, but then Draco took a deep breath. As far as he knew, Blaise wasn’t a Death Eater and neither were his parents. Being with Blaise could keep you safe, so despite how every single cell in Draco’s body wanted to strangle the life out Blaise, he turned back in his chair. “Okay.” Is the only word Draco could manage, much to Blaise’s surprise. He wasn’t expecting Draco to be alright with it.

His heart feels like it’s being squeezed in his chest, but Draco simply stands from the couch placed in front of the fireplace and heads up to his bed. He can’t bare the thought of Blaise’s hands or lips on you.

The next afternoon you’re stood in the courtyard outside the main entrance waiting for Blaise. You regret agreeing to go, Blaise makes you feel a little uneasy. When you look up again, your eyes lock with Draco’s and you feel your entire body heat up. You can’t seem to look away as he strides past you with Pansy walking with him. You ignore the nausea in your stomach when you see her laugh and grab Draco’s arm, why did that bother you so much? Seeing them together never bothered you before a few weeks ago. You tried to clear your head when Blaise approaches you with a wide smile on his face before taking your hand to lead you down to the train station.

Hogsmeade was beautiful during the winter, with all the snow falling upon the roofs and the cobblestone streets. You let your eyes drift over to Draco, who has his eyes pointed up at the sky and a small smile spread across his face. He looks deep in thought, almost as though he’s remembering something nobody else does. There is a tint of pink across his pale cheeks, and his nose is rosy from the cold. You snap your attention back to Blaise when you feel him tap on your shoulder, “look if you have a thing for Draco still...” He trails off and you vigorously shake your head. Still?

You might be able to make the mind forget things, but the heart will always remember.

“S-Sorry.” You stammer nervously and a sigh escapes Blaise’s lips before he smiles again. He takes your hand and leads you away from Draco and Pansy, towards the Shrieking Shack. You take the snowy path down to the Shrieking Shack, the silence between you and Blaise awkward and uncomfortable. You stop at the fence, the Shrieking Shack actually looks quite beautiful against the snowy backdrop behind it. “Cold?” Blaise asks, lifting his arms to wrap them around you. You smile awkwardly, while you are cold you’d rather not have Blaise’s arms around you. You don’t know why you feel so repulsed by Blaise, he’s been nice and he’s good looking. It just feels so insanely wrong.

Blaise wraps his arms around you before reaching over to turn your head towards him. You close your eyes and brace when you see him leaning in, and soon you feel his lips press against yours. Well this isn’t so bad. It doesn’t send tingles through your body or give you butterflies. It’s nice, not amazing and not bad. You wouldn’t willingly do it again though, but you doubt you’ll fight him if he chooses to kiss you again. As soon as the two of you part, you pull away from him with a nervous smile. Why do you feel so nauseous? It’s almost as though you feel guilty.

Draco’s heart had fallen far beneath him and into the fiery pits of hell, he was sure of it. He watched Blaise press his lips to yours, and while you didn’t melt into Blaise the way you did with Draco, you still didn’t reject him. Draco leaned against one of the trees, feeling the onslaught of tears surging up his chest with little he could do to stop it. He slid down the tree to sit on the wet and snowy ground, bringing his knees to his chest he lowered his head and did his best to blink the tears away, but they just kept falling. Draco heard Pansy calling his name in the distance, he’d managed to shake her somewhere on the path. He couldn’t bring himself to move, he didn’t want to move. This was by far the most painful thing he’s ever had to do- watching you with Blaise didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the way you looked at Draco.

You were the only person to truly see him, now nobody did. He’s never felt so alone.

You’d begun to see Blaise more often, and you actually kind of liked him. He was sweet, and per your request he stopped bringing up Draco. Although you’re confused as to why he brought Draco up in the first place. You’d spent a lot of time with him in the Library, helping him study for Arithmancy. Blaise had said his Father told him to take more advanced classes, and when it came to Arithmancy, he was clueless. You however were very good at Arithmancy, so you’ve been helping him study. You and Blaise will take evening walks along the Rickety Bridge, talking about how creepy he found Professor Binns to be. Blaise was nice, but despite the hand holding, the kissing, the fooling around he still felt like a friend at best.

You have not slept with him yet, for some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to go all the way with Blaise. You’d be kissing, taking off clothes, and then it’s like an alarm goes off in your head and you have to stop. You’ll feel tears building at the backs of your eyes, and every cell in your body would be screaming at you because of how wrong it is. You just wished you knew why it felt so wrong.

You knew that’s how tonight was going to end. You sat by the edge of the Black Lake with Blaise, watching as the Lake monster dug around for gifts to give you. Blaise found your friendship with the Lake monster unsettling, and weird. You always rolled your eyes when he told you not to accept the things the monster gave you, but you found the Lake monster to be deeply misunderstood. Dennis Creevey had fallen into the Black Lake during his first year here, and the Lake monster carefully lifted him out of the water and placed him back inside the boat. Still Blaise refused to see it as anything other than a monster, which sort of bugged you. Oddly enough, the Lake monster didn’t seem to like Blaise either. Blaise leaned back against the truck of a large tree, with you leaning back against his chest in between his legs.

Harry did not approve of your relationship with Blaise at all, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. You tend not to judge Slytherin’s as quickly as the others and sometimes you wondered if you really belonged in Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor. There were moments, like now, where you did not feel brave at all. Instead your kindness took over and you would often push down feelings of discomfort in order to please other people. You were feeling rather uncomfortable with the way that Blaise’s hand was slowly sliding lower down your abdomen, towards the hem of your skirt. You bit your bottom lip to avoid saying something, maybe if you just forced yourself to do it then you wouldn’t feel this way anymore. It would be your first time having sex, maybe that’s why you’re so nervous about it.

So when Blaise dips his hand into your skirt, you don’t fight him. It’s easily the worst decision you’ve ever made.

It was awful, it didn’t hurt but the entire time you were clinging to him and keeping your face pressed to his neck so he wouldn’t see the tears. You felt a horrible heavy feeling all over your entire body, your stomach was twisting. You felt as though you should drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness, but you didn’t know why. You felt such overwhelming guilt it felt like it was suffocating you, you have to break up with Blaise. Something is very wrong with you, and you can’t lead him on while constantly trying to avoid any physical contact with him. You didn’t even cum, you didn’t want to.

When Blaise rolled off you, he smiled at you and you forced a smile back. “Thought you said you were a virgin?” He questioned and you nodded slowly, unsure of where he was going with this.

“I am.”

“Didn’t feel like it.” He shrugged and you only blinked at him before reaching for your clothes. You felt far too exposed. You didn’t want Blaise to see your naked body any longer than he had to. You refused to meet his eye, and when Blaise placed a hand on your shoulder you slowly turned to face him, exposing your tear stained cheeks. “Woah, baby what’s wrong?” He asked, his arms reaching to pull you close to him, but you shrugged him off.

“Blaise I can’t do this anymore, I just can’t be with you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, you haven’t done anything I just want to be alone.” You gasped through tears, wanting more than anything to be left alone with your Lake friend. Blaise’s eyebrows pinched together in anger, scowling down at you. He quickly turned and began to pull his clothes on, “I can’t believe you Y/N. You’re just a stupid whore mudblood.” He seethed, and you flinched. You felt tears running down your cheeks as he stood. Blaise turned to look at you once more, but his eyes flickered behind you. You turned to follow his gaze and saw the Lake monster reaching out to you, with something curled in it’s tentacle.

It was a small glass vial. It was whispering to you.

“Do you hear that?” You ask Blaise, as if you hadn’t been fighting with him 30 seconds prior. He doesn’t respond but with a quick glance you see he’s still there, his eyes transfixed on the bottle. You reached your palm out, letting the Lake monster drop the vial in your open hand, listening as it sounded as though someone was whispering your name from inside the vial. Who was that? It sounded like Draco. “I don’t hear anything, just toss it back. It’s a weird bottle.” Blaise huffed, crossing his arms. You shook your head, bringing the bottle up to your ear. There was unmistakably whispering.

“No, I can hear it. It’s calling out to me.” You say softly, your fingers reaching to un-stopper the vial. Shakily you reached up to take the stopper out, and the wispy blue liquid from inside flowed out into the open air before turning directly into your temple. It hit you like a train. A kaleidoscope of memories slammed into you at once. The steps, Hogsmeade, the Hospital bed, the Lake, Draco all of it came rushing back. The night he had taken your memories, the Dark Mark. It was like a dam broke open in your head, and the memories flowed back in like water. You gasped, stumbling back. Blaise immediately reached out to catch you, “D-Draco!” You stammered wildly, looking up at Blaise. All the moments over the last few weeks between you and Draco felt different now, and all the pieces fell into place. This is why being with Blaise felt so wrong, why everything felt wrong. You’re in love with Draco!

Oh God you had sex with Blaise.

“What did that stuff do to you? I think you need to see Madam Pomphrey.” Blaise began but you quickly shook your head, your palms trembling. You pulled away from Blaise, stumbling as you turned towards the castle. “No I need to see Draco.” You gasped, breaking out into a sprint as you headed for the castle. You heard Blaise calling your name but you ignored him, your feet pounding against the ground and the wind rushing in your ears. You felt tears flowing down your cheeks, you felt so many different emotions it felt like you were drowning in them. Draco has been alone this whole time, and you were forced to suffer you just didn’t know why you were suffering! You ran through the front doors of the castle into the main hall before turning right and sprinting down towards the dungeons, that’s where the Slytherin common room is.

You slid to a stop in front of the portrait key, you don’t know the password. It’s late, Draco has to be inside the common room or in his dorms. You pace around outside, waiting for any Slytherin to come out or go in. You released a frustrated sob as you tugged at your hair, and after about 30 minutes of nobody coming, not even Blaise, you turned towards the portrait door. You began to knock on the portrait door, “Draco!” You called his name as loudly as you could, you doubt he could hear you but you didn’t know what else to do. You sat there, pounding against the very irritated painting, that refused to open for you when finally Blaise came around the corner. He rolled his eyes when he saw you.

“Blaise, please can you get Draco?” You ask him but he laughs bitterly. He begins to stride to the portrait door but you stand in front of him, “why would I? You’re breaking up with me for him aren’t you?” He snaps, and you feel guilty as you look sheepishly up at him.

“Either get Draco or I’m following you into the common room.” You threaten, pulling your wand out. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do to see Draco right now. Blaise rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, I just want you to leave me alone so fine.” Blaise snaps, whispering the password so that you wouldn’t hear before disappearing into the common room. You can only hope that he didn’t lie to you, and that he really will go get Draco. You pace around the hallway nervously, you’re not sure where you and Draco will go from here but all you know is that you need him right now.

Draco sat on his bed, he rubs his temples as the door swings open to reveal a very irritated looking Blaise. “Y/N dumped me.” He snapped and Draco merely nods, while turning so that Blaise wouldn’t see his victorious smile. Of course you dumped him, Blaise is not the type of guy you’d go for at all. He’s too cocky, too full of himself. You admire personality, and Blaise is all about looks. How good he looks, how good his girlfriend looks. He’s too superficial for you. “And she’s outside the common room asking for you.” Blaise adds after a few minutes of silence and Draco cocked an eyebrow. Why on Earth would you be asking for him? Noticing the look of confusion on Draco’s face, Blaise turns to him.

“We were down by the lake, and she found this weird bottle. As soon as she opened it she got all crazy and started saying your name.” Draco’s blood turns to ice in his veins as soon as the words leave Blaise’s mouth. You found your memories of him. Draco is trembling as he launches to his feet and nearly stumbles down the stairs. He’s trembling harder than he ever has as he pushes the portrait open, revealing you standing there. Wide eyed and teary as you lock eyes with him. You don’t even say anything, you launch yourself into his arms, crying softly against his shoulder. “Why- why?” You cry, you can barely speak and you’re grabbing him so tightly he’s worried you’ll break his ribs. The amount of relief that Draco feels having you here in his arms is surmountable to anything he’s felt before this, but the dread quickly follows behind.

Draco pulls away from you, but you refuse to let him go. You keep your hands clung tightly to his arms, “Draco why?” You cry, looking up at him with watery eyes. Draco keeps you at arms length from him, how is he going to explain stealing your memories from you? He never thought you’d get them back, he thought they’d sink to the bottom of the Lake... the Lake monster. “I was trying to keep you safe-” Draco began shakily but you quickly shake your head.

“Not that, your arm.” You gasp, looking down at the forearm that had the Dark Mark inked onto it. He fell silent, merely looking down at you, trembling and holding his hands as though he’d disappear if you let go. Suddenly you pressed yourself against him again, your lips finding his with desperate need. “Don’t care, right now I just need you Dray,” You gasped in between kisses. Your lips moved languidly with his and Draco’s arms wound around your waist, feeling as if he was home for the first time in weeks. Nodding quickly, Draco lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you off towards an abandoned classroom by the dungeons. Nobody comes down here, if only he’d discovered this earlier. You wouldn’t have had to have your first time by a Lake.

Draco pushes into the classroom, the door swinging shut behind him as his lips move with yours. Your fingernails bite into his shoulders as you grasp him tightly, gasping when Draco drops you onto a table. He stands in between your legs, his hands reaching up to cup your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. You whined against his lips, wriggling your hips closer to his. “Dray,” You begged, your hand sliding down his front to cup him through his pants. He groaned softly, his shaking hands quickly finding the bottom of your shirt and swiftly removing it. His pupils dilated upon seeing your bare breasts, his hands reaching up to cup the underside of each one. You throw your head back, your back arching into him as his lips wrap around one of your nipples.

Your hand winds into his hair, pulling him more firmly against you. “Fuck baby,” You moaned, grinding your hips into his. Draco works your nipple to a peak before doing the same to the other, and his mouth feels heavenly against you. “I missed you so much,” Draco whispered, pressing kisses in between your breasts. You sighed softly as he kissed down your body, removing each layer of clothing between his mouth and your wonderful heat as he went. Your back ached and you collapsed back against the table when Draco’s lips found your clit and wrapped around it, sucking and biting softly. Your hand curls around his shoulder as he slides two fingers into you, pumping slowly. You feel that coil of pleasure building in your pelvis, winding tighter and tighter. You begin to pant as Draco brings you up to that edge and with one flick of his tongue you’re cumming hard against him.

“Dray, I need you inside me. Now.” You gasp as you calm down, grabbing him to pull him back up to your lips. Draco nods frantically as his lips find yours, and his hands fumble with the button of his pants. Eventually the fabric is pushed down past his hips and Draco is lining himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing in. His eyebrows furrow when he notices you’re not as tight as he was expecting, but when you press your lips to his neck he gets lost in your body and begins to thrust into you at a steady pace. Your forehead presses against his, your hands holding his body close to yours as your lips find his once more. You kiss him sloppily, slowly, pouring all the emotion you felt bottled up these last few weeks.

When you cum around him it feels like magic, it feels more perfect then anything else ever has. It feels right.

Draco carries you back to your common room, ignoring snickers from people passing by. He kisses you sweetly, “I love you.” You whisper to him, Draco smiles. “I love you too.” He says, kissing you again and again before finally turning back to his common room. There are tears in his eyes, he had a plan b from the very start. This is going to be harder on you then it will be for him, and honestly he’s scared of the person he’s going to become because of this. It was you that made him a better person, if he never met you he shudders to think the kind of person he’d be today. Guess everyone is going to find out.

Draco kneels in front of his bed, his wand in his hand, and a letter tied to his owls leg. The letter is addressed to you. Draco closes his eyes as he lifts the wand to his temple, and he concentrates on the memories he wants to remove. You underestimate just how far Draco would go to keep you safe, you really do need to stay away from him. Feeling a tear cascade down his cheek Draco takes one last shaky breath, letting himself remember you in a way he knows he never will again.

With another breath, and a tremble in his palm Draco opens his eyes.

“Obliviate.”

*** @justmesadgirl

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy smut #draco x reader #draco x you #harry potter #harry potter smut #hogwarts #bittersweet smut #happy ending #blaise zabini #blaise x you #plot twist #cliffhanger #sorry not even remotely sorry

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ot7always · 3 years

Text

Fractured (Bonus A)

These bonus chapters are not essential to understanding the main plot of the series. However, they exist to expand upon the backstories of different characters and give insight into their relationships.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.4k

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Mafia AU, angst, fluff, (future) smut

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of guns/violence/death, unhealthy coping mechanisms

Rating: 18+

Summary: You’d always known something was strange and different about your “family,” but it wasn’t as though your environment encouraged curiosity from you. You thought you wanted to know all the answers, but nobody ever told you that the more you learned the more pieces of yourself you would leave behind.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait on the next part of this series, life has been super super hectic! I debated whether I wanted to post part 4 before or after this bonus chapter, but for the sake of characterization and the fact that I know some of you guys are interested, I decided to do this first. But don’t worry – part 4 will be coming soon regardless!

Chronologically, this chapter takes place from Yoongi’s perspective in Chapter 2.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

He didn’t even plan to go to the gym. But for some reason, the loudest room somehow had the worst soundproofing in the entire house.

He had only gone outside for a quick breather before heading up to rest, but muffled grunts reached his ears before he made it anywhere near the stairs.

There was no question who they belonged to, and his body turned back toward the gym door before he’d even consciously decided to take a look. Not that there was ever any chance that he would leave you there alone.

He was sure you would hate that he felt the need to check on you, but he couldn’t help it. You had a habit of going too hard too fast and suffering for it later. He told himself that it was investigating for everyone’s best interest – that you had a mission at dawn, and you needed to be fully intact and rested. Not because his heart lurched at the notion of you suffering in there alone, pushing your body past its limit with that empty, lost look in your eyes.

Sneaking in without catching your attention was easy. He doubted that slipping in through the door and silently closing it behind him was even necessary. Not with the way you were going at that punching bag, your forehead glistening with sweat. He couldn’t fully see your expression from his angle, but with the way your jaw was clenched, face screwed up almost to hold back tears, he doubted you were fully present.

It wasn’t his first time finding you like this. Sometimes you’d run laps. Sometimes you’d do so many push-ups his body hurt just looking at you. Sometimes he’d even find you shooting target after target in the shooting range one building over.

But more than anything, you boxed.

You’d told him once that the repetitive sound of glove on punching bag lulled you into the best trance.

With the way your words hit him in the gut that day, perhaps he would have been better off not asking.

Though, you hadn’t always used this as an escape. At least, he didn’t think so. Not with the way you used to laugh and joke with him in that very spot maybe 5 or 6 years ago. Before they stole that ecstatic grin from your face, your eyes squinting slightly at the corners. When was the last time he saw that smile on your face?

He winced at the sight of your bare fists hitting the punching bag with a concerningly loud thud, feeling as though he could hear your knuckles splitting at this very moment.

The entire scenario drudged up a memory that typically remained buried deep in his subconscious – it hurt too much to think that he might have witnessed the turning point of your entire character.

He’d found you almost exactly like this.

He knew something was wrong as soon as you returned home.

If he didn’t know from personal experience, your silence was telling enough. The way you kept scratching at your hands, breaths shakily leaving your lips. He hadn’t ever seen you so uneasy, so fearful.

It fucked you up, witnessing your first murder.

It was a mistake letting you out of his sight before he could make sure you were okay. Because as soon as he went to his room to clean up, he couldn’t find you anywhere.

You weren’t in your room, weren’t in anyone else’s room, weren’t in any of the bathrooms.

He made it through almost the entire property before he noticed light coming through the cracks of the gym door from the end of the hallway.

He didn’t know anyone else that came back from something physically taxing just to work out more.

When he entered the room, you didn’t even respond to his presence.

Instead, your gloves hit the punching bag in a flurry of movements, but that’s not what stuck out to him.

What he was entirely focused on was the tears streaking down your face, your teeth biting into your bottom lip hard enough that he was sure you must be bleeding.

He had planned to quietly approach you to get your attention, not wanting to add to the anxiety you were already feeling. But before he could take one step, you ended your movements with one big punch, accompanied by a noise somewhere between a sob and a shriek before whipping the gloves to the ground.

He couldn’t help the way he jumped, but as soon as he saw you muffle a scream into your hands, it was as though he was on autopilot.

You jumped when his hands made contact with your shoulders, but you didn’t resist when he pulled you into his arms, cradling your head as you shook like a leaf. Luckily, that meant you didn’t see the way his eyes teared up, too.

“Yoongi,” you choked out, tears wetting his shirt as you gripped his waist weakly.

“I know,” he whispered, staying silent as you cried, his hand rubbing gentle circles into your back. He wished he could do more, but the reality was that he couldn’t fix this for you.

He would just have to be there.

He didn’t know how long he stood there – long enough for him to feel the strain of holding up your weight. But he hardly noticed.

Eventually, you settled down enough to pull away slightly, his own pained gaze meeting yours. Your faces were close enough for him to fully take in the red of your eyes behind the glassiness of your tears.

“How?” you breathed, taking a moment to wipe at your eyes before looking back at him imploringly. “How do you do it?”

Your question caught him off guard, his mind wracking for something to say. You didn’t say exactly what you meant, but he was sure he could guess.

How can you keep killing? How do you live with the guilt?

“I have to.”

A cheap answer, even if it was true. There wasn’t a chance that he could escape this life, not now. Not when he was next in line for the family inheritance. Failure to work meant death – Bangtan had no shortage of means to take him out within days of running away.

With the way your face fell even as you nodded, you were very clearly not satisfied with his answer. But the reality was that he couldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear – that it went away, that you stopped caring, that it got better.

Because it didn’t - you just got better at blocking out your humanity. Was that considered ‘better’?

“I didn’t even do it,” you murmured, looking at your hands with a shaky breath. “I didn’t even pull the trigger and it hurts. It hurts so much. He looked so afraid...”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, taking your trembling hands into his own. “You’ll get better at blocking it out.”

You closed your eyes as you took a deep breath, your hands breaking free from his own to rub roughly at your face. You stayed like that long enough to concern him, but you turned around before he could reach out for you.

Your hands clenched into fists at your side, and at first, he thought you were about to cry again. Until he heard your voice.

“I’ll get better at blocking it out,” you said, voice almost robotic, entirely defeated. Devoid of emotion. But the feelings weren’t gone. You’d just buried them as you always did. “You're right.”

It should have scared him then, but he thought it was normal for you. Everyone dealt with pain differently, and you always tended to retreat into yourself when something greatly upset you. But you always came back to him the next day, smiling with a hop in your step as if it never happened.

Until you didn’t.

If he could go back and change that day, he would do it in a heartbeat. He’d spent endless nights replaying that scenario in his head, wondering what he could have said, what he could have done to make it better.

But he couldn’t change the past, couldn’t fix his mistakes. He could only be there for you now, would only offer what you would accept. And maybe one day you’d open up to him again.

The sound of a pained hiss as your fist hit the bag broke him free of his thoughts. He sighed deeply – you must have split your knuckles. In fact, it would be a wonder if you hadn’t dislocated a finger by now.

Straightening up, he stuck his hands in his pockets as though he had just casually walked into the room. Doing his best to dispel the sadness and regret, he called out to you.

“The gloves exist for a reason, you know.”

Series Masterlist

#houseofddaeng #btsgoldnet #btsguild #ficswithluv #heartsforbts #hyunglinenetwork #magicshopnet #mikrogalaxynet #mygsnet #suganetwork #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi angst #bts angst #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic

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prbni · 3 years

Text

Dramione Headcanons/Prompts

(Note:Might update the post and tags according to the requirement)

A 15 y/o Scorpius Malfoy accidentally stumbles upon a pensive of his father, that contains the memories of a certain witch he had feelings for before he met Scorp's mother. Seeing the loneliness and despair that has fallen upon his father after the death of his mother Astoria, Scorpius decides to use the prohibited Time-Turner to change the courses of the past.

But this meant two things: he'd never be able to experience the love and warmth of his mother and....he probably would cease to exist.

"This is madness Scorp!" Albus shouted angrily. " Uncle Ron and Auntie Mione are happily married. They have loved each other for ages. And this also means,Rose wouldn't exist as well. Do you really intend to do this over the one-sided crush that your father had on Auntie Mione once upon a time?!"

Basically, Albus trying to convince him in all possible ways that this is a bad idea.

Cue to Ron and Hermione arguing at the backyard of Harry-Ginny's house. They even forgot to cast Silencing Charm. Hence,everyone including the kids heard their argument.

"Oh,stop behaving like you're the only one who has been compromising in this marriage!!! Did I tell you to give up your position in the Ministry of Magic? No!" Ron yelled. " Why are you even bringing this up?! I never said it was your fault or anything!"Hermione tried to reason. "BECAUSE I'M TIRED. TIRED OF EVERYONE PRETENDING LIKE YOU HAVE DONE ME A FAVOR BY MARRYING ME WHEN IT IS THE OPPOSITE!!!" "Wh-what do you mean?"Hermione asked meekly. Ron scoffed. "Your parents are gone,Hermione. If we didn't take you into the Burrow, you wouldn't have anywhere to go. You needed us. You needed me." Hermione looked like she was trying to process the words that Ron just said. Or maybe, she was just trying to convince herself that Ron is capable of saying something like this. It's just Ron being in a foul mood. He definitely doesn't mean it."Ron let's talk about this tomorrow, okay?" Hermione tried to calm herself down. "Harry and Ginny are probably waiting for us in the dining table."

"Why? Can't face the truth?" Ron sneered. "If you were sensible enough Ronald, we'd be having this conversation at our own home,with a Silencing Charm on and without children listening to this," Hermione retorted while hinting towards Albus and Scorpius behind them,who were looking warily back and forth between the older duo. It took a while before Ron realised what she meant and grudgingly complied to go inside the house.

Scorpius gave Albus a if-this-is-what-you-mean-by-them-being-a-happy-couple look.

"Well,older couples fight. My parents fight as well. Uncle Ron is a bit aggressive,you know. But they have been like this for years.Also we don't know what actually happened between them.See,Aunty Mione didn't even fight him back," defended Albus."She didn't fight back because she knew we were listening,Al. And I don't know but this sounded more like defamation than argument." Albus sighed loudly,aware that there's no point in arguing. "So, you're still keen on getting Mr.Malfoy and Auntie Granger together in the past?" he asked instead.

"I think now I'm even more keen on getting them together,"Scorpius replied with a slight grin.

Yule Ball AU: Draco is awed when Hermione descends downstairs.

His expressions form into a scowl when he witnesses Ron and Hermione's encounter,and it pisses him off to no end when he sees her crying.

"Pathetic shite really. Ruined the whole festive mood" he mutters to himself. Even all the purring and cooing of Pansy Parkinson beside him couldn't fix his mood."Well that's what she gets for gushing over Weaselby of all possible blokes. Even Longbottom or Potter would know better than making her cry at the Ball. Seems like Weasley lacks in everything,even courting manners. But well,what do I care?"

"Enough to disturb others' sleep through your late night self-indulgent altercations" a voice drawled in beside his bed.

"Seriously,mate. Try to sleep or let others sleep. This was a long,tiring day and we have a tournament ahead,"Theo grumbled from under the covers while Draco shot a glare at this direction.

Another Time Travel fic. This time it's Hermione and Draco going back to time for their own purposes but getting entangled in the middle as they decide to help each other out before returning to the original timeline.

"Be wise before you hold my hand,Granger" Draco said. "I'm not just offering you for a dance. I'm offering you for a lifetime with me. Once you accept this, you're never returning to Weasley."

If Hermione didn't know better what Draco looks like and sounds like when he's joking,she'd almost think this was just one of his attempts at flirting. But one look at his eyes and the intonation of his words sent her shivers.

"That's not how time traveling works,Malfoy. We aren't supposed to end up together. That's not why we're here,"she explained.

"It's okay,Granger. You can just tell me you don't want this,"he chuckled bitterly. "For if you did, you wouldn't care what happens and what's supposed to happen. You'd just join me without excuses."

"I'm not making excuses,Draco. I'm a mother as well. If I mess here in this timeline, they'd be gone there in the future,"seethed Hermione.

One of the common tropes here: Compulsory Marriage under Marriage Law post-war. Here, Hermione is literally fighting with the Ministry to prevent her marriage with Draco. While Draco reluctantly agreed to the marriage since this was the only way to save himself from landing into Azkaban, Hermione had a huge outburst.

"Minister,are you seriously telling me I have to marry this git?" Hermione scoffed in disbelief. "Now now Granger. That's not the way to refer to your future husband," Draco drawled in. She almost forgot Kingsley called both of them to talk about their compatibility in terms of marriage. "Quite rich coming from someone that called me filthy mudblood the entire time he'd known me".That seemed to shut Draco up. The Minister in the question coughed a bit to grab their attention. "Hermione, I'm sorry,okay? I tried talking with the other ministers about this. But nobody including myself seem to come up with a solution better than this." "Granger, don't act like this is a punishment only for you. If choices or circumstances were any better, I'd rather do a dirty dance with goblins of the Gringotts than showing up here and talk about the prospect of marriage....or whatever this is," Draco said in an annoyed tone."Serves you right for all the horrid things you were part of," Hermione replied to him and then turned to Shacklebolt, " I understand why and how this is a punishment to him. But this is a punishment to me as well. And what am I being punished for?"she almost cried out. Draco visibly flinched a bit. "Ever since I stepped into the Wizarding World, almost everyone has taken a knack of making a point to me that I'll never be good enough to belong here. So, I studied.I learnt as much as possible,more than anyone else and tried to dedicate myself to whatever it takes to make a perfect witch. Then, Voldemort returned. Second Wizarding War came along. Everyone talks about what or who has been lost who has made sacrifices but does anyone know I had to take it to myself to wipe out my parents' memories of me and drive them away because the Wizarding World cannot provide them with protection?!"Her eyes were glistened and voice became hoarse. "Hermione,you have to know I'm sorry and thankful-" "No,Minister. I'm not holding anyone accountable for what became of my parents. That's completely my own doing.What I'm trying to understand is after everything I've seen and been through, why am I to be hitched against my own volition to this rotten scum of a Deatheater?!" "Ex.Death. Eater,"Draco said in a dangerously low voice. "You have all the reasons to hate me,Granger. But don't carelessly throw around words like you know me. Despite all the hatred and animosity over the years, I tried to warn you during the Triwizard tournament. I didn't want you to end up at the Manor and I definitely didn't want this!"he shrieked pointing at her forearm where that eight-lettered word was curved in forever. "I didn't want this either," he said in a softer tone,pointing at his own forearm and own scar this time. "So,you see. I'm not the good guy that you'd want as your husband. But I'm not as evil as you expect me to be either." Draco's eyes held nothing but honesty and sincerity which took Hermione aback. "Have you said your piece?" she asked with a renewed vigor to which Draco nodded.

"I'd submit my wand and all magical articles to your office tomorrow,Minister. And return to the Muggle world for good. I shall take your leave now." With that she stomped out of the room without even sparing the other two wizards a glance or letting them speak.

Draco's boggart wasn't his father's disappointment in him. Heck it wasn't even the Dark Lord himself. His boggart was a certain Muggleborn witch crying and writhing in pain on the stone cold floor of the Manor,her screams ringing through the Manor walls tortured by his own aunt while he stands there like a coward, doing nothing,not even looking at her.

After being able to successfully able to restore her parents' memories using the Memory Charm,ever-so-curious Hermione Granger tries it on herself. What she didn't expect was an overwhelming rush of memories consisting of a certain very familiar blonde with very unfamiliar moments between them. Shock,surprise,sadness and anger crashed down on her altogether. Did anyone else know? Had he obliviated himself as well?

She knew accepting a dare from Weasley Twins meant trouble. Yet,when they called her a scaredy cat for trying to back down from the bet,she lunged into it. Even if that meant she had to stalk Draco Malfoy the annoying ferret for a week while disillusioning herself. What she didn't realise was that the thing that started as a dare would become habit while being thrust into a totally different perspective of what the-boy-who-made-her-school-life-hell really was.

She was tired of being called ‘boring’ and ‘no fun’. The one time she decided to pull on a prank was on someone no one would expect. Draco Malfoy. So,when an accident happens while concucting the Love Potion and the cauldron explodes,Hermione falls in love with her forever nemesis. Or should I say, pretends to fall in love with him.Draco Malfoy was already having a hard time accomplishing the task he was assigned with. A bushy headed witch being all sappy and clingy was the last thing he needed at the moment.

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amenomiko · 3 years

Text

Aaaaaa Thank You so much for the looooooooooooong wait! I was too occupied and writer's block makes me tired more than ever 😭. Thank you so much for the request @ashavazesa ❤❤❤❤❤

A/N: I don't really take ALL Southeast Asia countries in this as I'm not really familiar with it. If you have questions regarding the culture, you may PM me or comment here ❤. Or you may google it, especially Butod 😏.

Lords x Southeast Asia Culture

Nobunaga - Hungry Ghost Festival (Malaysia / Singapore)

-It is a festival to honor the dead and so the gate from hell is opened.

-Mitsuhide: Most probably when the gate from hell is open, there will be Hideyoshi, practically running here and there upon his arrival ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡^).

-Masamune: Exactly. With the red carpet and rose petals. Heh.

-Hideyoshi: ಠ_ಠ.... Still- Nobunaga-sama's presence itself is majestic, so I have to agree with both of you *cough*

-Mitsunari: But I don't understand.. Hideyoshi-sama is kind, why would he be in hell (´；д；`)?

-Hideyoshi: Now, now, Mitsunari. Not everyone will go to heaven easily.

-Mitsuhide: Indeed. One of the main reasons why he goes to hell is because he sister-zoned every maiden in the world.

-Hideyoshi: H E Y (　☉д⊙)!

-Back to Nobunaga: I demand my offering to be a pack of armies, thousands of konpeitos, and MC's candid pictures 😏😏😏😏.

-Shingen: How indecent. To hell with you 😒.

-Kennyo: Go somewhere else, don't take my place 😒.

-Nobunaga: Excuse me? Hell would not be yours as I am the Demon King

-Kennyo: Excuse you 😒. My sin is bigger than yours.

-MC: Is it me or is this a White Girls Sengoku Version ಠ_ಠ?

-Ieyasu: ...Why would anyone want to fight over hell in the first place =_=?

Hideyoshi - Everyone is Addressed as Boss / Uncle / Aunty (Malaysia)

-So he went to a restaurant..

-"Boss. What do you want to order?"

-He look left. And right.

-"Eh Boss. You want to order or not?"

-"Huh? M-me??"

-Then he went to a public place, and his wallet fell from his pocket,

-"Uncle. Excuse me."

-Uncle-- WHAT- He is not THAT OLD-- "Wh- Wha??"

-"Aiya Uncle. Your wallet. Later people take your money how?"

-"Uh--" What kind of language is that anyway??

-Sasuke: If you are wondering what kind of language they speak, it is called as 'Manglish', Hideyoshi-san.

-Hideyoshi: Ma- Ma what?

-Sasuke: Manglish. Malaysian + English casual ways of talking to someone.

-Random person: Eh Boss, excuse me. Do you want to enter or not? If not please move lah! You are blocking the door!

-Hideyoshi: ........*Stressed 101*

Masamune - Butod (Sago Grub) (Malaysia - Sabah)

-Le butod: *Wiggle wiggle wiggle* OwO

-And MC: *FAINTS*

-"So this is a.. Grub from sago tree, you say? And it is recommended to be eaten raw."

-"It looks like MC when she was struggling to get away from my grip when I try to kiss her."

-MC, who has fainted, woke up "Excuse me?? Are you saying that I am-"

-Butod: *Wiggle Wiggle on Masamune's Palm* OwO

-MC: *gasssppp* 😱😱😱😱 YOU..! DON'T TOUCH ME WITH THAT HAND TONIGHT ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥A˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚!

-Masamune: Eeeeh but why? *Pulls its head and eat it raw* Hmm.. Taste like chicken.

-MC: .....*Takes a bottle of sake and shove it into his mouth* Wash it down with this! WASH IT WITH T H I S!

-Masamune: MMMMF 😵😵😵😵!!

Mitsuhide - Chinese New Year Celebrations (Malaysia / Singapore)

-He was offered with lots of CNY treats and of course, he ate it without refusing it.

-Only to get the bewildered reactions from the people around him when he mixed the rice + fish + dumplings + sweet rice balls + spring rolls + glutinous rice cake in one bowl and eat it like nobody's business.

-Hideyoshi: Even if you can't taste it, don't eat it in that way (　☉д⊙)!!

-"Why Hideyoshi? This foods represents luck, you see. I need this luck so I can always escape from your endless 'love' ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡^)."

-Learned about Ang Pow.

-"So you will give away money if you are married, and will receive it if you are not married. I see..."

-MC: What's wrong, Mitsuhide?

-"Hmm? Oh, I was just concerned about Hideyoshi. Because he will give away Ang Pows throughout his life." *Shakes his head* "That's what he gets when he sister-zoned everyone."

-Hideyoshi: ʕʘ̅͜ʘ̅ʔ.....

Ieyasu - Sambal (Hot Relish made with veggies / fruits and spices) (Indonesia)

-At first he was skeptical.

-Until he put some in his dish.

-Cues Ieyasu hugging the Sambal Jar.

-Growls when Masamune said "Can I have a look what they put inside-- Hey, hey, I said I want to have a look, not that I will eat it, lad. Calm down."

-Nobunaga, the usual demon on your shoulder: It's that precious, hmm? So you'd rather choose that than MC?

-MC: Please don't make me an option between food, Nobunaga ಠ_ಠ.

-Mitsuhide: Or maybe.. You can eat her by pouring all over her ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡^)?

-MC: I will become a living swollen red bell pepper, no thanks (눈‸눈).

Mitsunari - Vietnam and the amount of motorcyclists on the road (Vietnam)

-The gangs be all flustered with their surroundings, especially Hideyoshi.

-"Stay close, all of you! It's dangerous!"

-Masamune & Mitsuhide: Yes mom ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡^)~

-Hideyoshi: Who is your MOM (　☉д⊙)??

-Sasuke: It's alright, they say you can cross it casually as they will automatically avoid you.

-Hideyoshi: Impossible, isn't it dangerous? Besides, it's too close one after another!

-Sasuke: Here, let me give you an example. *Gives Mitsunari a book and whispered "You may cross now."*

-Our pure angel be like "O3O ooooh~~" And there he goes, walking straight ahead, with head buried in a book.

-Meanwhile, Hideyoshi: *Were pulled by both Masa and Mitsuhide* GAHH LET GO OF ME! MITSUNARIIIII \(Q A Q)/!!!! *GASP* NOOO NOBUNAGA-SAMA DON'T CROSS THE ROAD WHILE EATING YOUR KONPEITOOO!!!

-And Ieyasu, who has been watching Mitsunari who crossed the road safely to the other side: TCH. There's no one that hit him (•ˋ _ ˊ•).

Kenshin: 5 People on one Motorcycle (Indonesia)

-The first thing that he ask Sasuke was...

-"What is that?"

-Sasuke: Oh, as you can see, Kenshin-sama. Some people from a poor family will ride their motorcycle altogether as one. And so,.. Kenshin-sama?

-"Bringing the motorcycle back to the past would cause unnecessary scene, but an idea of 5 people in one ride is not bad. Hm."

-"Imagine, when you go to the battlefield, with 5 people in one horse, you can kill 5 people at one time."

-"Also, if they bring sake supplies, and 1 person hold one sake each, and there's 10 horses, I would've get 500 bottles in an hour."

-Them: ........

-Sasuke: Can't do, Kenshin-sama. Please pity our horse and if you work here, in this era, please don't be a math teacher. You will give a bad example in your class.

-Kenshin: Don't stop what I want to do, Sasuke (눈‸눈). Fine. Let's change that 5 person into me, and the killed people to Shingen instead. So it will be 5 of me, killing Shingen in one strike.

-Shingen: Psssh. If I were you, there will be 5 of me on one horse, so all of us can kiss MC in one go 😏✨✨✨.

-Yukimura: PLEASE STOP GAH MY BRAIN @A@

Shingen - Thailands... and their Kathoey (Thailand)

-Welp. His eyebrows wouldn't stop wiggling here and there to every pretty woman that he spotted.

-'Woman'. Heh.

-Sasuke about to warn him but Kenshin hold him back.

-"Let's teach him a lesson." He said. "It will be interesting." He said.

-And so they go to one place for dinner, when they were surrounded by a bunch of pretty women.

-"Hey handsome~~ wanna have fun with us?"

-Yukimura: Eh- uh- eh- I- I- o//////o

-"Oh come on~~~ *grope*"

-Yukimura: *Genuine Girlish Voice* KYAAAAAAAAA!!! *Fainted with foams*

-Shingen: Now, now, you girls are pretty attempting, but we need to fill our empty stomachs first, you see?

-He was occupied in talking to the girls when Sasuke whispered something to one of them without him realizing it. Then the girl went to Shingen's side, hugging his arm, "Please~ have fun with us~~ I will give you a reward if you say 'Yes'~"

-Shingen, playing along: Oooh? What would that be?

-Le girl, changing her voice into a manly one, "A lick of my lollipop, bro."

-And he fainted next to Yukimura. With foams in his mouth too.

Yukimura - Bali and their.... 'Souvenirs' (Indonesia)

-The first thing that came out from his mouth when he arrived at Bali is "Wh- wh- wh- r-romantic island?? Wh- who would show their intimacy in public--"

-*Shriek to a statue with a peculiar s*x position*

-*Shriek to almost everything*

-*Got stuck in one place until Sasuke had to pulled him out from the shop*

-Sasuke: Forgive me, bro. It's Shingen-sama's idea to enter this shop. It's normal for you to be culture shocked as one of their famous souvenirs is wee wee keychains (´・д・｀).

-"Don't say that casually OAO!"

-MC, takes one wee wee display and called out for him, "Yukimura~ come here for a sec. Look! Your wee wee (✿❛◡❛)!"

-"MMMMMCCCCCC ୧( ಠ////Д////ಠ )୨!!!!"

-Also Yukimura: *Gasp* This shop sells your kind! *Points at the restaurant that displays Rolling Pig*

-Scene of Yukimura got slapped by MC unfolds.

Sasuke - Sarawak's Blowpipe (Malaysia - Sarawak)

-Tour guide: One of the ethnicities in Sarawak is Iban people. They are known to hunt their prey with a blowpipe, which contained with a poison-coated needle.

-Sasuke: Oooh. *looks at the blowpipe* It's like detective conan but a poisoned needle ones (´・д・｀)✨✨✨

-Tour guide:

-Others:

-Tour guide: Would you like to give a try?

-Sasuke: Yes please (´・д・｀)✨✨✨ which target should I shoot it with?

-Tour guide: The balloon, next to the pole in front of you ☺.

-Sasuke: Okay. *Takes a deep breath*

-Kenshin:.......*monotonous voice* Ah, a mosquito. *Kicks Shingen to make him land in front of Sasuke*

-Shingen: H-Hey-- OAO

-Sasuke: Mmf- *Instantly pushed the pipe to shoot something else*

-*Stab*

-Mitsunari who happens to pass by: Hmm? Oh my, I don't remember this book has a needle attached to it (ㆁᴗㆁ✿).

-Other tour members: EEEEEKKKK 😱😱😱

-Ieyasu who also happens to be not to far from the group: Tch. Books from the future must not to be underestimated ಠ_ಠ. It's too thick.

#ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku imagines #ikemen sengoku mc #ikemen sengoku hideyoshi #ikemen sengoku masamune #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku kenshin #ikemen sengoku nobunaga #ikemen sengoku mitsunari #ikemen sengoku shingen #ikemen sengoku sasuke #ikemen sengoku ieyasu #ikemen sengoku yukimura

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professorrw · 3 years

Text

All I Want, Remus Lupin Fanfiction

Chapter Eighteen

Warnings: fluff, eventual smut, death, violence, swearing, age gap, slight angst, major spoilers for Deathly Hallows, fighting

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this! If you did, like, comment, and reblog! If you would like to be added to my taglist (permanent or for this series) tell me and I’ll put you on there!

You helped Remus hobble through the crowd to stand by Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Harry was being held by Hagrid, who was sobbing. Voldemort was standing in front of Hagrid with Nagini draped over his shoulders.

The four of you yelled out to Harry. He didn't respond or move. Following your yells were others, shouting Harry's name and saying things about Voldemort and his followers.

"SILENCE!" Voldemort yelled. He shot out a spell and everyone around you seemed to fall silent. "It's over! Set him down at my feet Hagrid, where he belongs." He had a venomous smile that stretched across his pale face. Hagrid walked over and laid Harry down onto the grass gently.

Ron was stirring next to you, fist clenched and eyebrows furrowed.

"You see?" Voldemort said, walking back and forth next to Harry. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now? He was never anything more than a boy who relied on others to make sacrifices for him!"

"He beat you!" Ron yelled from beside you. That seemed to break the charm and everyone, including you, began to yell as well. Voldemort seemed pleased with all the cries and shouts. But of course, he wanted to talk again so he sent out a more powerful spell, immediately ceasing all voices.

"He was killed while sneaking off the castle grounds. While trying to save himself."

Everyone knew Voldemort was lying. Harry would never do such a thing. If anything, Harry was probably trying to sacrifice himself.

Neville was a short distance away from you and he was struggling. It looked like he was trying to break out of the spell. It worked, he ran at Voldemort but he wasn't quick enough. Voldemort disarmed Neville and he hit the ground with the sheer force of the spell.

"Who is this? Who has volunteered to show everyone what happens when you continue to resist my power?" Voldemort asked with a sly smile.

Bellatrix laughed from his side. "Neville Longbottom, Lord! He was the son of the Aurors. He's been causing trouble at school."

"Oh, yes. I remember you." Voldemort strolled over to stand above Neville's body. Neville was getting back to his feet slowly, obviously out of breath. "Aren't you a pureblood, boy?"

"So what if I am?" Neville spat back.

"You have spirit and bravery. You come from noble blood. You will make a fine Death Eater. We need people like you."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over! Dumbledore's Army!" Neville shouted.

The crowd erupted in shouts and cries of "Dumbledore's Army!" Voldemort's spell was once again broken.

Remus seemed to be gaining his own footing, no longer leaning on you as heavily. "Are you alright?" you whispered. He nodded and fixed his gaze on Voldemort. Voldemort had continued speaking but you were talking to Remus. When you looked back towards Neville, Voldemort stood above him with the Sorting Hat in his hands.

"There will no longer be Sorting at Hogwarts. You will be united under one House. The House of my ancestor, Salazar Slytherin." Voldemort pointed his wand at Neville and forced the hat onto his head. The Death Eaters had their wands positioned and ready to strike at anyone in the crowd.

Voldemort flicked his wand and the Sorting Hat was set afire on Neville's head.

"Neville!" you and Hermione shouted. You and many others seemed to surge forward at the same time, seeing Neville unable to move and on fire. A giant had come around the side of the building yelling, "HAGGER!" He must not have been one of Voldemort's, for a whole group of much larger giants charged him. Arrows began to fall upon Voldemort's side as Centaurs began to run from the trees.

Everyone on Hogwarts' side was running forward. Your attention was drawn to the spot Harry once was. He was gone. Neville had also broken out of his curse and reached into the Sorting Hat, pulling from it the Gryffindor sword. Neville swept the sword through the air and it sliced through Nagini.

Hagrid began to yell Harry's name and chaos ensued. Everyone was being pushed into the castle by the group. Death Eaters and defenders of Hogwarts shot spells at one another. Bodies dropped onto the ground as the mass of people moved.

You and Remus were in the middle of the mass and a moment after you entered the hall the house-elves ran in carrying knives and screaming. You were pushed into the Great Hall near Ginny, Hermione, and Luna. You all caught sight of Bellatrix and began to shoot spells at her. She was extremely quick, avoiding and blocking spells with ease.

The four of you shot stunning spells, disarming spells, and even Avada Kedavra at her but none fazed her. You lost sight of Remus and he had separated from you. Jets of light continued to pass between you, Luna, Ginny, Hermione, and Bellatrix. She sent out curse after curse, nearly hitting you multiple times.

Mrs. Weasley ran in from behind Bellatrix screaming, "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"

Bellatrix cackled as Mrs. Weasley pushed the four of you out of the way. You had never seen her so determined. It was absolutely terrifying to see the two duel, both trying to kill the other.

Bodies littered the ground. You had backed onto the wall next to Hermione, watching the fight between Molly and Bellatrix. Remus stumbled over to you, panting, but not appearing injured. You both cast a Shield over as many students as you could, wanting to protect them.

After doing as much as you could, you turned back to the two duels going on.

"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" Bellatrix taunted. She was sneering while sending out curses and avoiding Mrs. Weasley's spells. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"

You knew that did it for Molly. That had poked the fire even more. She screamed back, "You-will-never-touch-our-children-again!"

Bellatrix laughed maniacally. She lost focus for one second and Mrs. Weasley used that second to send the killing curse at her. She was hit right over the heart. Her smile faltered and she collapsed to the ground. You let out a shaky breath as Voldemort shrieked.

In a sudden movement, his three challengers were sent flying. He pointed his wand at Molly but not before someone shouted "Protego!"

You looked around for the source of the yell and so did everyone else. A few yards away was Harry. Harry was alive. You gasped, shocked and shaken.

Harry and Voldemort circled each other. "I don't want anyone to try to help. It has to be me. It's got to be like this," Harry spoke and everyone heard him.

"Potter doesn't mean that. He doesn't do that. Who will you use now Potter?" Voldemort hissed.

"Nobody." You don't have Horcruxes left. It's just you and me. Only one of us can survive. One of us will walk out of this."

"Horcruxes?" Remus breathed. Something seemed to click within Remus as he nodded to himself.

"One of us? And you think it will be you? You survived by accident and because of Dumbledore."

"It was an accident when my mother died to save me then? Accident when I fought you in the graveyard? Accident that I didn't defend myself tonight and still survived? I'm still fighting," Harry stated.

"YES! ACCIDENTS!" Voldemort screamed. Nobody moved. Everyone stayed against the wall and watched the scene happening in the middle of the Great Hall. "Nothing but accident and chance that you were able to weasel away and hide behind others that were much greater than you."

"You won't be killing anyone else. You won't be able to kill any of them ever again. Don't you understand? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people-"

"But you didn't!"

"-I meant to and I did precisely that. I did as my mother did. They're all protected from you. Did you notice none of your spells are binding? You can't touch them. You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle."

Harry taunted Voldemort, saying he knew things that Voldemort did not. He told Voldemort about things you didn't know of. That Dumbledore had planned for Snape to kill him months ago. That Snape loved Harry's mother and had been on Dumbledore's side all along. That shocked you. Dumbledore always insisted that Snape was on his side but you didn't believe it and neither did Harry. If Snape loved Harry's mom and Voldemort killed her then of course he would turn.

Voldemort didn't seem convinced. "Dumbledore tried to keep the Elder Wand from me! He intended for Snape to be the true master of the wand! But I reached the wand before you! I killed Severus Snape three hours ago and now the Elder Wand is mine! Dumbledore's plan went wrong, Potter!"

"Yeah it did. You're right. But before you try to kill me, think about what you've done. Try to have some remorse, Riddle."

"What is this?" Voldemort seemed taken aback by that. It had set him off and shocked him.

"It's one last chance. It's all you've got left. I've seen what you'll be otherwise. Be a man. And try... try for some remorse."

Harry continued to explain to Voldemort. He told Voldemort that the wand wasn't his. It wasn't Snape's either. It belonged to Draco Malfoy. But that wasn't all. Harry had overpowered and taken Draco's wand while all of you were at Malfoy Manor. That meant that Harry was the master of the Elder Wand. All these new revelations shocked everyone in the room. So much information had been found in the past few months and it had all come down to this. Harry and Dumbledore had outsmarted Voldemort.

It had been hours since you arrived at Hogsmeade and the sun was coming up. Red-orange light poured into the room.

There were two yells, one saying "Avada Kedavra!"

The other shouting "Expelliarmus!"

There was a bang where the two spells collided and the Elder Wand flew from Voldemort's hand. Harry caught the wand. At the same time, Voldemort fell to the ground.

Taglist: @bellamy1998 @sxsalvatore @ottjord @lina1945

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urmomsstuntdouble · 3 years

Note

89 for the writing promp game? 👀👀 whichever characters u feel like it fits

oof this took a while. wasn’t sure who to write it about, and i didnt use those exact words, but. yeah. here it is!

(3rd person pov, lithuania x romano)

Nobody enjoyed world meetings. It was a known fact, and one regular humans would probably assume without knowing what transpired at such meetings- Which wasn’t much, in all honesty. And while they weren’t fun, they weren’t always bad. Sometimes they’d be in a nice city, and flights would line up with those of friends, and so forth- Today was not one of those days.

Tolvydas had stumbled off their train at three o’clock in the morning, and into their hotel bed two hours later. Their body now ran on two hours of sleep, and the conditions of the meeting didn't do much to help them stay awake. Jackets and ties were folded over the backs of several chairs, and some of the other nations held small wooden fans in death grips. Some were slumped over, and others stayed at attention. Of the other Baltic states, Estonia had removed his glasses and Latvia was clearly more focussed on his smartphone than the presentation. Tolvydas couldn’t blame them. The heat of the room seemed a cage, pressing in on them and making sweat drip down their back.

Why did the meeting have to be in Southern Europe? Tolvydas could handle the heat, but being trapped inside for an entire day- On which nothing tainted the pure azure of the sky- was a lot. A glance around told them they weren’t alone, as nearly every forehead shone with sweat. Every now and then, Tolvydas’ head touched their chest and they jerked back to attention. Their efforts were futile, though, and they’d yet to catch a single word of Paraguay’s speech.

Someone tapped their shoulder- Feliks, sitting at their left. Tolvydas looked down at them, where they’d rested their head on crossed arms.

“So bored,” they mouthed, and Tolvydas nodded. They shifted their notepad into Feliks’ line of sight and gouged the word TIRED into the paper. Feliks nodded with pink cheeks and drooping eyelids, and swiped the pen away from Tolvydas. Wish there was air conditioning. LORENZO DOESN’T BELIEVE IN AIR CONDITIONING.

Feliks giggled at that, attracting the glares of some nearby nations. Pink cheeks turned red, and they sank down a bit in their seat, folding their arms. Tolvydas sighed, and rested their head in their hands. Would it be a good idea to tape their eyes open? No, and they didn’t have any tape…shame. Tolvydas tilted their head around, looking for the host nation. Lorenzo. Romano, or Italy- They hardly ever spoke of things related to their nationhood. In fact, they only spoke as a result of social happenstance, that being Feliciano’s friendship with Feliks, and the Italy brothers shared a car, and that Tolvydas had spent much of the 90s on Feliks’ couch. A coincidence Tolvydas was fond of, actually. It was rare that nations befriended each other purely for social reasons. Even Feliks came into their life for the sake of politics.

Tolvydas looked around the room yet again, this time searching for Lorenzo. Would he be drowning in sweat too, they wondered? The answer seemed to be yes, and they bit back a smile upon seeing him. He sat hunched over the desk, with his suit jacket resting on the back of his chair. Dark circles lined both his armpits and eyes. As if cued by their staring, Lorenzo opened his water bottle and took four hearty gulps, then returned it, empty, to the desk. Tolvydas blinked, and wiped some sweat from their forehead. When they returned to their hotel room, they would get rid of all these clothes and lay on the bed with the windows open until they fell asleep.

They shuffled their papers about, searching for the weekend’s itinerary. They gave their speech the day before, but about a hundred nations still had to take their turns…According to the schedule, today’s last presenter would be Qatar. So the meeting would be over by…seven, maybe? Tolvydas pushed some air through their lips and picked at a loose thread in their shirt sleeve.

It wasn’t until about seven thirty that Qatar gave her presentation, and closing the meeting took another half hour. Once that was done, the nations milled about and spoke, as per their custom. Rare was it that they were allowed to be people- Tolvydas would never understand how people could say they ‘didn’t pay attention to politics.’ Paying attention to politics was all they could ever do. Then again, they were Lithuania, not a person.

Fortunately, many of the nations elected to move outside after the meeting ended. They fit right in with the students, bustling around the university campus. Nations fragmented here, splitting off with friends or returning to their hotels. Most importantly, though, they were stopped by people asking to take selfies. Tolvydas smiled and laughed when required, and let themself be dragged around with the other EU members.

“Where are we going?” Asked Feliks at their side, and they nodded, glancing around. Tolvydas wasn’t sure they recognized this city- They’d been to so many, it was hard to remember, and European cities started to look the same after a while.

“Not sure,” said somebody- Hungary. “I think Vene said something about a bar? I wasn’t really paying attention.” She snorted like it was punctuation, and Feliks laughed.

“Oh, Erzsi! Hey, I didn’t see you there!” Feliks launched himself at her, and was lucky that she reacted fast enough to catch him.

“Hi, Erzsebet,” Tolvydas said, suppressing a laugh.

“Hey, losers,” She said, arms clenched around Feliks’ waist. “Glad to see you here, that meeting was stuffy as hell.”

“Ugh, I know, right?” Feliks said. They righted themself, walking independent of Erzsebet again. “I was practically dying of the heatstroke.”

“I don’t think you can get heatstroke if you’re not in the sun,” Tolvydas said.

“You can,” a voice chimed in- Spain. “Trust me, summers are brutal at my place. Hey, can I ask you a question, Lithuania?” Tolvydas glanced over their shoulder, as if there was some other Lithuania he could be talking to.

“Uh, yes,” They said.

“Do you have nude beaches in your country?” Tolvydas choked on their own spit, and let out a strangled chuckle.

“Y-Yes,” They laughed, “Sorry, I didn’t expect you to ask something like that-”

“I was thinking about all the ways I’ve gotten heat stroke before,” Spain told them, holding his hands in front of his chest like a T-Rex.

“And one was at a nude beach?”

“Well, yes…” He narrowed his eyes. “More than one, actually. I don’t like nude beaches, Lithuania, because if you’re not careful you can get sunburned…I mean, you can on a regular beach, but it’s so awkward to be, like, in front of your people and putting sunscreen on your entire body, you know? And I’m a country, so it’s a lot of attention, and all that…You know?”

“Well,” Tolvydas said, “Not really, because I don’t get a lot of sun, but yeah, sort of.” They bit their lip- Since they’d been talking to Spain, they had totally lost track of where they were in the city. The university was out of sight, and Feliks was now absorbed into a conversation with Hungary and the other EU Slavs.

“Hm. You are pretty pale.” Tolvydas tucked some hair behind their ear.

“Yeah,” They said, not sure what else to say.

“Yeah,” Spain murmured, eyes darting about the street. “Where are you taking us, Feli?”

“What?!” Asked Italy. He stopped in his tracks and turned around, causing Finland to crash into him. “Oh, crap! I’m sorry, Finland.” Finland gave him a smile and assured him it was no problem.

“I said, where are you taking us?” Spain shouted, “I don’t recognize this street.”

“Umm, I actually forget?” Italy laughed, “My brother has a bar he likes that’s near here, but I don’t like it so I don’t remember what it’s called? And he’s busy now, so- Yeah. Oh, hi Lithuania! I didn't see you there, how’re you doing today?” Tolvydas started, eyes widening.

“Hi,” They said, “I’m tired, but it’s alright. You have a lovely home.”

“Thanks,” Italy said, “Though it’s really my brother’s, I…I don’t really like it that much down here, to be honest. Don’t tell him I said that. But it is nice to visit!”

“Excuse you, it’s lovely here!” Spain said, “I’m telling on you, Feli.”

“Don't!” Italy shrieked, “Please?” He turned to Spain with wide eyes. Even Tolvydas would have to oblige, and they had plenty of experience saying no to cute people. Well. Cute dogs. And Raivis. And Feliks, and Russia. Maybe they did have experience saying no to cute people after all.

“I’m only joking,” Spain said, “Besides, Lithuania here agrees with me, don’t you?”

“Uh,” Tolvydas said, “I do, yes. It’s- It’s a very nice climate you have here. And I like this street- Very, uh, very nice cobblestones.” Italy snorted, his hair falling into his eyes.

“Thanks, I’m glad you like them,” He said, though they weren’t his. Tolvydas hummed, and took a moment to really look at the street they were on. Buildings kept the sun from reaching them, but not the warmth. Storefronts beckoned here and there, with parked motorcycles at intersections and window boxes at second floor windows. Every so often they passed some graffiti, though most of it was nonsensical to Tolvydas. Not once did they see a street sign. If it weren’t for Lorenzo’s lead, Tolvydas would be completely lost.

Finally, the group made it to the bar. It was a nice, quiet place- Tolvydas felt bad for the staff. They hoped nobody would get kicked out, though it was unlikely. Who was a nation, really, if they’d never been asked to leave a bar before?

Tolvydas wound up sitting beside Spain, with Lorenzo on their other side. Neither spoke to them- Spain was discussing the art of bartending with Italy, and Lorenzo preferred glaring into his cocktail. Tolvydas wondered if they should talk to him- They’d only spoken a brief hello today, after all, and that was a formality. But he seemed annoyed, with his furrowed brow and crossed arms…And now he was looking at them.

“Why are you looking at me?” Tolvydas sat a little straighter.

“Um. I, uh, I was wondering if it would be okay for me to talk to you,” They said, mouth dry. Lorenzo bit the corner of his lip, eyebrows raised.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know, you looked, like, a bit irritated,” Tolvydas said, “S-Sorry.”

“You’re right, I am,” Lorenzo said, “Fuckin’ hate hosting world meetings. There’s so many people who are just in my space, you know? And I didn’t even realize there were so many people following me when we were on the way here.” He lifted his cocktail. Black salt rimmed the glass, and Lorenzo licked some away. “Was talking to Belgium, got distracted. But she left to go back to her hotel, so. Anyway.” He hung his head between his shoulders. “That’s a bit much, I know.”

“No,” Tolvydas said, “World meetings suck, whether you’re hosting or not…I don’t hate it but also there’s that invasion-y feeling.”

“Invasion-y feeling, yeah,” Lorenzo murmured, and licked more salt from the rim of his glass. “‘M tired.”

“Me too,” Tolvydas said. “I need to bring hair ties tomorrow.”

“That sounds useful,” Lorenzo mumbled. He took a slow drink of his cocktail, wincing at the end. “You don’t have anything to drink.” Tolvydas glanced down at the bar in front of them, and no, they didn’t. Huh, they hadn’t noticed.

“I don't,” They said, and glanced over at the bartender. A young man with veiny forearms, chatting as he shook up a new drink. His hair was greased back into a pseudo helmet.

“Giulio!” Lorenzo shouted, catching his attention. Giulio paused in his drink-making and glanced back, then nodded and went on with his business. “He’ll get you in a second.”

“Thanks,” Tolvydas murmured, “I could’ve waited.”

“Yeah, but you’re talking to me right now,” Lorenzo said. He sipped his drink again. “And I don’t want to talk to you when I’m drinking and you’re not. Then it’s not equal.”

“Fair enough,” Tolvydas said, “I can just shut up if you want me to-”

“No, we’re talking now,” Lorenzo said, “I want to talk. And it’s my country, so…yeah.” He took a drink.

“I think it’s nice here,” Tolvydas said, “Very warm.” Lorenzo hummed, then glanced up- Giulio stood at the ready, finished with his previous drink. He exchanged some words with Lorenzo, who turned to Tolvydas after a moment.

“What do you want?”

“Um- Could I please have a krambambula?” Lorenzo relayed the message, and Giulio was up to drink-mixing.

“What’s a krambambula?” Lorenzo mused, peering over the bar.

“Wine and vodka,” Tolvydas responded, “Belarus’ favorite.” Lorenzo hummed.

“Didn’t you used to be married to her or something?” Tolvydas bowed their head, letting hair fall in front of their eyes. “So you did, huh?”

“Y-Yes,” Tolvydas stammered, “Briefly, a hundred years ago-”

“She good in bed?”

“What?” Their cheeks grew warm, too warm for it to simply be the heat. “No- I mean- I don’t know, see-”

“Hey, calm down, I’m just making conversation.” Lorenzo waved a hand, “It’s none of my business, I know.”

“We, um. Never slept together,” Tolvydas said, “She doesn’t like me very much, actually.”

“Oh. That’s a shame,” Lorenzo said, and Tolvydas nodded, though they weren't sure what the shame actually was. A shame they never slept together? Maybe- Since she didn’t reciprocate their feelings, it was hard to really fantasize. They could daydream about kissing her all they wanted, but they’d still know that acting on it would be assault. So their feelings were in the process of fading away. A shame she didn’t like them very much? Eh, they would get over it. Eventually, maybe. They had time.

Giulio returned with their drink.

“Can I have a taste?” Lorenzo asked, “Never tried that before.”

“Of course,” Tolvydas said, and handed him the glass. He took a sip, and struggled to keep his face from contorting in disgust. “You don't like vodka?” Tolvydas asked, taking a swig.

“Shit’s nasty,” Lorenzo said, “Tastes like sadness. And like, we’ve all got issues or whatever, but mine aren’t so bad I need to drink vodka.” Tolvydas snorted.

“Okay. Lightweight.”

“Lightweight?!”

“Yeah, vodka’s like 95% alcohol volume.”

“Psh, whatever.” Lorenzo scoffed, and Tolvydas giggled at the sheer nonsense of it. “Why are you laughing at me?” He asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“Psh, whatever?” They repeated, “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It does so,” He said, “You’re too small-brained to get it.” That stung a bit, but Tolvydas didn't mind. They understood it was a joke, though they didn’t appreciate it any more for understanding.

“Whatever,” They said, looking away. Their eyes naturally picked Feliks out of the group- He sat on the bar, legs crossed, with a glass of wine held in both hands. He’d unbuttoned his shirt to the third button. Tolvydas shook their head- It wouldn’t be very long before they were completely drunk.

“I hope Feliks doesn’t overdo it,” They thought.

“Probably will. They look like they’d be wasted after two glasses of wine,” Lorenzo commented. Tolvydas jolted- They hadn't realized they were speaking aloud.

“They’re- Yeah,” Tolvydas said, “They like parties, always have, but they get drunk too fast to enjoy it.”

“Maybe that’s why they like parties so much. ‘Cause they don’t remember what one’s like, from all the drinking,” Lorenzo said, “Toni’s like that, sort of.” Tolvydas hummed, and swirled their drink around in the glass.

“I don’t think such heavy drinking is a sign that one likes parties,” They murmured, “After all, if you like doing something, wouldn’t you want to experience as much of it as you can?” Lorenzo scoffed, and they turned their head to look at him. His arm was thrown around the back of his chair, with his chest out and facing them. Sweat still clung to his forehead- It was less oppressively hot in this bar than the meeting room, but only just.

“Part of the allure of drinking is that it can make you forget about things,” He said, “Happy people don’t develop alcohol issues. And, you know, for people like us, it’s different, seeing as how we can’t fucking die.” Tolvydas shrugged in response. They shifted in their seat, feeling the cheap leather through their pants, and took another sip of their drink. Lorenzo was correct in that one liked to drink to forget. For people like them, there were virtually no downsides, save whatever you did while you were drinking. Once, Tolvydas had set a cow on fire and didn’t find out until the next morning when, in the clutches of a hangover, they were arrested.

“I guess,” They said. Then, mind caught on the cow-arson, “What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done while drunk?” Lorenzo sucked air in through his teeth.

“Done too much stupid shit to tell you off the top of my head,” He admitted, “But, uh, this one time, I drank up a town’s entire supply of wine. Bad move. Had to regrow my kidney.” Tolvydas winced, a bit less inclined to finish their drink.

“That sounds painful.”

“Yeah,” Lorenzo said, “Much like hosting the fucking world meetings.” Hosting the world meetings was terrible- It was a constant headache to have so many other nations around you, especially if it was in your capital city. Tolvydas had never had maggots in a wound before, but they imagined that was what it felt like.

“Oh, I know,” They said. It was a good thing they all shared the burden of hosting the meetings. Locations cycled through nations, such that Lithuania wouldn’t be the host country for another ten years- They’d still have to do smaller meetings, of course, like the EU and UN and such, but at least it wasn’t a world meeting. Over two hundred nations in the same city could make even the humans feel a bit off.

“I’d be better if all you people hadn’t- hadn’t fucking followed me here. I mean- I didn’t want my idiot brother to invite the entire goddamn continent.”

“I’m sorry,” Tolvydas said, “I was just going with everyone else-”

“I don’t- You know, actually, I need to continue this conversation outside,” Lorenzo said, and stood up. He said a few words to Giulio and turned around, making for the door. Tolvydas’ skin pricked- What had they done wrong? It was just a simple conversation- But of course they’d manage to screw it up. They remained on the edge of their seat, with their eyes fixed on Lorenzo, as he walked out of the bar. As he got to the door, they stood. Should they apologise? Or- Or did Lorenzo want to fight them now? They pushed away the idea, knowing it was all probably fine.

Tolvydas pulled out their wallet, and left a few euros beside their drink. They followed Lorenzo outside, stumbling when they left the bar. The moon had risen while they were in the bar. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, bathed in silver light save the faint glow of a lit cigarette. Tolvydas swallowed. While it was dark outside, the heat from the day had yet to evaporate. Tolvydas speculated that if they were to touch Lorenzo’s skin, he’d be as warm as if he were sunbathing. Right, Lorenzo- They were not here to stare at him.

“Are you okay?” Lorenzo jumped, turning around with wide eyes. His shoulders sagged when he saw them.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, “Just fuckin’ tired. Want to go home.”

“Oh,” Tolydas said, “Sorry then, I’ll- I’ll fuck off now.” They turned away, poised to return to the bar.

“No,” Lorenzo said, then bit his lips. “I mean-” He put his cigarette between his lips and took a long drag. He looked hollow for a moment before he turned his head and blew a ring with the smoke. “You smoke?”

“Uh, no, not really…not anymore.”

Lorenzo hummed. “Shame. I could teach you how to blow rings, if you did.”

“You still can,” Tolvydas said, voice paper-thin, “If you want. And if I could borrow a cigarette. World meetings are hard on the rest of us too.” Lorenzo raised an eyebrow, and pulled a pack of cigarettes out from his back pocket.

“Ah, but you’re not the host, Lithuania. And you represent your entire country.”

“You can call me Tolvydas,” They said, “I mean, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“I just offered to teach you how to blow smoke rings. I don’t do that with everyone you know,” Lorenzo said, “Maybe I’m still fucked up from the meeting…But okay, sure. Tolvydas.”

“Thanks,” They muttered, “Also yeah, sorry about your. Brother.” Lorenzo shrugged, and took another drag.

“I don't want to think about him right now…No, I want to go home…” He bit his lip, and swayed from side to side. Was he alright? Tolvydas ran through a list of all the little things they knew to do if a nation was sick. Lorenzo coughed, and they twitched, hands reaching out for him. Instead of falling or even stumbling, Lorenzo put his cigarette to his lips another time. His cheeks shone in the orange glow. When he was done, he ground the butt under his heel. Three smoke rings floated away from his mouth.

“I’m gonna go get drunk at home now…You can come if you want.” He turned on his heel, reducing the cigarette butt into a stain of ash. He had a nice gait, Tolvydas thought. A medium sized stride, and they couldn't help but notice the sway of his hips…

Several short and fast steps later, Tolvydas was by his side.

song lyric asks

#oof i thought tumblr ate this ask and i was about to be so pissed #fortunately it did not!#anyway this was fun to write #i hope you enjoy it !#hetalia #hws #hws lithuania #hws romano #my writing #my fic #ceros posting #ask #romaliet ?

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lynettethemadscientist · 3 years

Text

Concept: An Alternate Universe(?) Saeran x Reader fic based on the 50s sci-fi movie The Alligator People.

I’m standing on a train station platform in Louisiana swamp country. Alone.

Nearby me sits a box labeled radioactive. It’s been hours but surely someone will come for their mail. So I wait.

An old pickup arrives. A mint-haired man wearing dark shades steps out of the truck to pick up the package.

I ask him if he knows of the place I’m looking for and if he’ll take me there.

“They don’t usually have visitors.” His voice is low and cool. “Are they expecting you?”

“No. Not exactly. But they will know who I am.”

The bluenet smiles before telling me to hop in and loading the crate onto the truck.

The drive through the swamp is rough. The man introduces himself as V and gives me a kind smile. Perhaps in an effort to ease my apprehension. But my unease does not come from him.

When V stops to remove a large branch from the roadway, I see two men attempting to wrangle an alligator.

“Have you ever been in bayou country before?” V asks as he returns to the truck.

I shake my head, still staring at the gator thrashing and hissing in the grasp of the men. “It’s so wild and primitive.”

“And deadly. You ought to be careful around here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The rest of the drive is no more smooth and no less tense than it began.

We soon reach a plantation house. V drops me off and drives away.

I knock on the door.

The door opens and I’m greeted by a stunningly beautiful white-haired man with scarlet eyes dressed in butler attire. He flashes a charming smile but before he can speak, I hear a cheery male voice from within the house.

“Who is it, Zen?~” The voice chimes.

“It’s a fine lady.” Zen answers as he effortlessly tosses me a wink.

“Well don’t be rude, let her in!~”

I step inside and see a man with racecar-red hair dressed like a Southern belle. His face looks strangely familiar.

“Is this your place?” I ask.

“Of course!” He flourishes an ornate fan. “Welcome to my lovely manor!”

I catch a glimpse of the butler rolling his eyes before I respond. “Well...maybe you can help me. For a long time I’ve been looking for my husband. He disappeared the night we were married. I’ve searched everywhere. I’ve tried everything. And this is my last hope.”

The vermillion-haired belle’s face is still plastered with a silly grin but his eyes show no mirth. “But, why here? Surely you can’t expect to find anything in a swamp but alligators~ And snakes~ Hisssss~”

I hesitate, trying to process the unorthodox demeanor of this man. “I received a mysterious message stating that my husband lived at this address.”

“What is your name?”

“Mrs. Saeran Choi.”

His expression falters for a moment. “Well, there’s no one by that name here~ Some charlatan must have been playing a cruel prank on you.” He touches a hand to his cheek. “But no matter~ There’ll be another train tomorrow~ May we offer you the hospitality of the manor for the night?”

“I suppose…” This man is so absurd, I cannot determine if he is mocking me or just ill-mannered.

“Terrific!” He claps his hands together. “Yoosung!”

A door opens to reveal a blond man with violet eyes wearing a maid outfit. He exits what appears to be a kitchen. “Yes, Master Luciel?”

“Show Mrs- what was your name again?”

“Mrs. Saeran Choi.”

“Show Mrs. Choi to the guest room please~”

Luciel whispers something into Yoosung’s ear before I follow him upstairs.

I distractedly unpack in my room amidst thoughts concerning the strange owner of this house. I’m tempted to dismiss his behavior as merely the eccentricities of a man who’s lived in the swamp too long. But I cannot help but feel that his odd behavior is merely a ruse.

I hear gunshots outside.

I rush to the window and see a blonde woman in a black dress cackling and firing a pistol wildly at gators. I run to the door but find it locked.

I retreat to the bed. I’m trapped here. If I were really a guest they wouldn’t have locked me in.

The gunshots stop.

The maid enters carrying a tea tray.

“Yoosung,” I plead. “Those gunshots. What were they about?”

“Oh...” He throws a mildly contemptuous glance at the window. “That’s the swamp witch. She hates gators.” He sets down the tray and stares at me for a tense moment. “I have to go.”

“Wait please!” I tug at Yoosung’s arm. “Somebody has to help me. Is it true what he told me? Have I come to the wrong place?”

“I can’t- I ought not to say anything, ma’am.”

“Can’t you tell me anything?”

I see pity surfacing in his lavender eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s not my secret to tell.”

He slips a key into my hands and leaves the room.

I hear a door slam and look out another window to see Luciel leaving in a car that looks ill-fitted for the terrain.

I wake up to the sound of a piano playing a sorrowful tune. I feel as though I’ve heard this theme before. I unlock my door and walk softly down the stairs. I can hear the music coming from behind a door to my right.

I open the door and the piano stops playing. In the dark I can barely see a male figure turning to see me before he flees out a side door and into the swamp. I turn on a lamp and see muddy footprints on the floor. Upon approaching the piano I find the keys are wet.

In the morning I stand outside the front door. A man drives up in a fancy boat with wheels. He introduces himself as Jumin Han, the local doctor.

“Is Luciel inside?” He inquires.

“He hasn’t come down yet. Has he been ill, doctor?”

“No. I have some other business with him.”

I pause for a moment before introducing myself. “I’m Mrs. Choi. Mrs. Saeran Choi.” I examine his face as I enunciate my words. “That name doesn’t mean anything to you?”

“No. Should it?”

“I don’t know. Let me explain, doctor. Since my husband disappeared I’ve done nothing but search for him. And I’m going to keep on asking questions.”

“What brings you here?”

“A mysterious message.”

“You came all the way down here. Traveled thousands of miles. On nothing more tangible than that.”

“I’ve traveled much farther, on even less.”

“I see.” The flash of conflict in his eyes is brief but unmistakable. “You found no other evidence?”

“Why? Is there other evidence?”

“Of course not.”

“You did know Saeran didn’t you? I can tell. What is it, doctor? Why won’t any of you tell me about him? What are you all trying to hide?”

“You are obviously overwrought. But that’s understandable given the circumstances. I wish I could help. Please tell Luciel I couldn’t wait, but I’ll stop by later.”

Even as he walks away I’m sure that man did not come here to see Luciel at all but instead to interrogate me.

When Zen brings a car around to bring me to the train station I refuse to leave.

Luciel returns home to find me rifling through the paperwork in his desk.

“What are you doing??” He hikes up his dress and rushes towards me.

“Looking for answers.”

“Get out of there. You’ve no right to look through my things. You were supposed to leave on the train.”

“I’m not leaving here until I get the answers to the questions that brought me here.”

“I told you yesterday you were mistaken.”

“I think you’re lying.”

“Get out of my house.”

“I will not. Who was playing the piano in the dark last night? Someone who left wet footprints on the carpet.”

“You’re imagining things-”

“No I’m not. Anymore than I’m imagining that you want to get rid of me. That you’ve got something to hide.”

His expression hardens. “Just leave it alone. It’s none of your business.”

“The hell it isn’t! What have you done with my husband?”

“Your curiosity will get you nothing but trouble. You need to leave. Now.”

“Saeran is my husband. I’m not leaving until you tell me whatever terrible thing you’ve done to him.”

“I don’t give a damn if he’s your husband! He’s-” His breathing is frantic.

“He’s what?”

Luciel heaves a weary sigh. “He’s my brother.” His eyes glisten. “I have to protect him. No matter what.”

I am halted at this revelation. My confrontational demeanor is whisked away.

As night falls, I wait for Saeran in the piano room. I sit concealed in a large cushioned chair. Behind me I hear the door open and a gravelly voice speak.

“Saeyoung, is she gone?”

“No Saeran, she isn’t.” I stand from the chair and face him.

He covers his face in an instant and flees. I call out to him, but he disappears into the dark, rainy swamp. I take off after him, pleading for him to come back.

“Saeran! Saeran!” I wail. The mud is above my ankles. My arms and legs are bruised from the logs and branches. I have to find him. I call out for him over and over, desperately trying to scream above the storm. But I can’t see him. I can hardly see anything.

I stumble upon a snake that strikes at me and I shriek in fear. The blonde woman I saw earlier appears from the foliage and uses a stick to push away the snake.

“You ought to have better sense, dear.” She coos into my ear. “Nobody goes out into the swamp on a night like this.”

She wraps her arm around my shoulders and leads me into a cabin.

“I don’t understand. Why did you bring me here?” I shiver.

“Well, dear, I thought you’d appreciate me saving you from that snake.” She smiles. It is not a kind smile.

She offers me a drink. It doesn’t look like any alcohol I’ve seen. It’s bright blue. I try to decline, but she insists I take a sip. It’s very bitter. I cough and she chuckles.

I’m sniffling. More from the renewed loss of my husband than from the cold.

“You poor dear. You’re so cold. Here, have another sip.” She says cloyingly as she attempts to push the flask into my hands.

I utter a brief response amidst my tears. “I’ll be alright. Thanks.”

“Alright dear.” She sets down the flask and lifts up a blanket. “Here. We’ll wrap you in this then. So you don’t catch a cold.”

I stand up and she wraps the blanket around my body. She doesn’t let go. Her arms curl tightly around me. She presses her cheek against mine.

“Please let go.”

“Oh now, don’t say that. We’re only just getting to know each other.”

I struggle against her embrace. “Let go!”

She chuckles and tightens her grip.

I start struggling more frantically as she restrains me. But I can feel my movements becoming more sluggish. I hear her cackle through my screams.

The door slams open but I can hardly react to see who it is before I’m thrown onto the bed.

I can hear a struggle. I try to roll over and see who stopped the witch, but I can barely move now.

I feel cold, rough hands lift me into their arms and carry me back out into the rain. But for some reason I am not afraid. Before my vision goes completely dark I try to look at my rescuer’s face. He has white hair, but his skin is olive green and leathery.

The last thing I hear before I lose consciousness is a woman screeching: “I’ll kill you alligator man! Just like I would any four-legged gator! You hear me? I’ll kill you!”

In the morning, I am told that Dr. Han wishes to see me and I’m escorted to his laboratory in the swamp.

As I enter the building, a shapely brunette leading two cloaked figures approaches me.

“You’re Mrs. Choi?”

“Yes,” I responded, watching the two figures as they walk away. They’re completely concealed. Even their hands and faces. “Dr. Han is expecting me.”

“Please follow me. You may wait in his office.”

From his office I can see Dr. Han overseeing several men carry a gator from a gurney onto a table underneath a large, strange apparatus. They strap the gator down as Dr. Han turns to leave.

I watch silently as he enters the office and begins to operate the apparatus. A high-pitched noise fills the room as Dr. Han stares at his watch.

After a few seconds, the sound is stopped and Dr. Han speaks through a comm.

“Take him out. Put him in a cage alone. We’ll run the test series on him in an hour. And bring in another specimen.”

He turns to me before speaking again.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Choi, for the wait. This experiment is very urgent.” He pauses for a moment to adjust his tie. “Remarkable creatures aren’t they?” He gestures to the alligator being carried away from the table.

“I suppose.”

“I’ve been conducting experiments for years, exploring the possibility of accelerating the healing process of humans using extracts from these creatures. And about two years ago, I thought I’d found the answer. I conducted an experimental treatment on those who had been badly mangled in accidents. The results were miraculous. Bones, tendons, muscles, even nerves and skin mended completely in a matter of weeks.”

“That’s very interesting, doctor, but what does that have to do with my husband?”

“I’m afraid it has everything to do with your husband. I’m sure you’re aware of the plane crash that nearly killed him?”

I slowly nod.

“Your husband was the worst of the lot. He was on the brink of death. Completely broken. And horribly disfigured.”

I vaguely remembered telling my husband before he vanished that he hardly looked like he’d been in a crash at all.

“Sadly, several months after his recovery I became aware of some unintended effects-“

The brunette assistant entered the room.

“Doctor, come quickly. It’s #6 again.”

“I see. Mrs. Choi please follow me.”

As I followed the pair down the hallway I could hear growls. Upon entering the room I see a snarling man on a bed, writhing underneath the grip of three men. The left half of his face is covered with green leathery scales.

Dr. Han performed a brief examination.

“Another sedative, doctor?”

“No. It seems the brain tissue has been affected. Use the ice pack and monitor him.”

The assistant left the room and returned with a large heavy blanket which was draped over the struggling man. Shortly after, his muscles relaxed and he became calm.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“One of my patients.”

“Then this is…” Horror crept into my heart.

“The aftereffects.”

“I don’t understand- how-“ My voice trembled.

“I do not know. I have been trying to find out for the past several months.”

“And the ice blanket?”

“Reptiles cannot internally regulate their temperature, so cold has a depressant effect on them.”

“Reptiles? But these aren’t-“

And then I understood. Or rather I was forced to accept it. As much as I didn’t want to. Dr. Jumin Han’s patients were turning into alligators as a result of his treatment. And my husband was one of those patients.

I should’ve been distraught. Or maybe angry. But all I could think of was how Saeran felt he needed to carry this burden himself. I couldn’t imagine how scared and alone he had been these past several months. I needed to see him.

As the doctor walked me out I asked him whether there was any hope of reversing these effects.

“There is a slight chance. But my testing is far from complete. Against my advice, your husband insists upon taking that chance tonight. The risk is extremely great, Mrs. Choi. This treatment could worsen his condition or kill him.”

“I will talk to him.”

“Please do.”

As night fell, I waited for Saeran to arrive at the doctor’s office.

When he saw me he once again tried to conceal his face and flee. I grasped his arm.

“Saeran! Please don’t run away! Not again. Dr. Han explained everything. Including why you’re here tonight.” I tugged at his arm, trying to get him to face me. “Please, Saeran. It doesn’t make any difference. I’m your wife and I love you.”

Saeran still wouldn’t look at me. “You know about tonight?”

“Yes. Please don’t do this, Saeran. The risk is too great. Please just wait. Wait for Dr. Han to complete the tests. Please I can’t lose you. Not again.”

“I’m sorry, darling. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like this.” His voice was gravelly but choked with emotion. “I’d rather have died.”

“Please don’t say that, Saeran. I love you. No matter what. You know that, right?”

“…yes.”

“Then please trust me. I’ve been so worried about you. I’ve missed you so much. Look at me please.”

Saeran turned to face me at last. Revealing his crocodilian face. His eyes shone with tears.

I cradled his face in my palms.

“I love you. And I don’t want to lose you. Even if it means being married to an alligator man. Please don’t do this.”

He muttered my name in a half-sob and I embraced him. He felt so cold to the touch. And his soft skin was replaced with scales. But none of it mattered. He was still Saeran, so he was perfect. He sank into my embrace as if he had existed for an eternity without being held. His hard hands clung desperately to my back. His ridged face buried itself in my neck.

“Are you sure?” His breath shuddered against my skin. “You can love an alligator man?”

“As long as the alligator man is my Saeran.”

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spell-cleaver · 4 years

Text

DAY 26: WHUMPTOBER: If You Thought The Head Trauma Was Bad... @whumptober2020

Luke bowed deeply when he entered the room, so low it made Vader uncomfortable. He had intentionally left his son, the boy he’d protected and raised, with Palpatine for a year while he defended the Death Star, it was true, and he knew that Luke was loyal to him—the fact that this coup was going ahead as planned only proved it—but he still didn’t like seeing his son grovel before that man.

Not when his son would be a prince soon enough, and be required to bow to nobody.

“You are both returned from your sojourn on Mustafar, then?” Palpatine asked benevolently, gesturing for Luke to rise. Vader rose from his kneeling position as well, before Palpatine tutted sharply.

Vader froze.

Palpatine turned back to Luke, and made the gesture again, pointedly. It did not encompass Vader.

That… seemed odd.

Luke stood to his full height, shifting into parade rest with his hands behind his back. Palpatine looked at him approvingly, as did Vader. He could sense his son’s apprehension—no doubt he could recognise the oddity in Palpatine’s behaviour as much as anyone, and what it meant for their plans—but Luke was holding himself together well, under Palpatine’s scrutiny. He was so brave.

“I trust it was restful?” Palpatine addressed him gently. Luke nodded sharply, sensing that words of affirmative were unnecessary, and Palpatine smiled with yellowing teeth. “Good. You worked so hard for me this previous year”—worked so hard executing people for him, Vader knew, had seen Luke’s haunted eyes; spying on courtiers for him; assassinating and intimidating and running errands; acting as Palpatine’s personal Force-sensitive pet—“you deserved it. And I hope you are prepared now to serve me again?”

Luke patted his lightsaber at his hip dutifully. “Yes, Master.”

“Good.” Palpatine smiled, then inclined his head to Vader. “Then the time has come. Kill him.”

For a moment, Vader couldn’t breathe—couldn’t move.

Luke snapped his head up, eyes wide. “What!?”

“It is your destiny, remember, Luke?” Palpatine’s voice had taken on a chiding quality, a soft warmth, like a grandfather cajoling his favoured grandchild. Vader was only present enough to process that he hated him manipulating his son like that before he surged to his feet, drawing his lightsaber—

Lightning flashed and pain seared.

He thunked to his knees on the floor. His organs seemed to shriek in a harmonious cacophony, the world blooming red around him.

“I would recommend you stay down, Lord Vader, and it will be easier for everyone,” Palpatine sneered. Then, to Luke: “Kill him.”

“No!” Luke was staring at Vader, hand fisting on his lightsaber hilt, but he made no move towards him. “No, I— why would I—”

“You told me yourself, Luke. He was about to turn traitor.”

What.

All the blood roaring in Vader’s head crashed to a silent standstill.

What.

“He was about to kill me. You know the punishment for treason like that, child. He has to die.”

Vader and Luke had come here to overthrow the Emperor. To kill him. Of course it was possible that Palpatine’s vaunted foresight could have warned him of it, but…

He had already known?

And— and Luke had told him!?

Vader, every individual vertebrate in his neck flashing with pain, turned his head inch by inch to look upon his son’s face.

The absolute horror—and guilt—that called it home.

“Luke?” he whispered.

He’d left his son alone with Palpatine.

For a year.

Of course that had done damage that was not at first clear.

Of course that had—

“You said you would leave him alive!”

Vader closed his eyes.

Luke.

Oh, Luke.

“He is willing to kill me, Luke. Why would I leave such a threat alive? You understand the danger he poses—that was why you confided in me to begin with. Kill him.”

“No!”

Palpatine raised his hands—they sparked dangerously. “Do not make me discipline you as I would a traitor as well, Luke. I know you are no traitor, I know you are loyal, but—”

“I won’t kill him. You promised—”

“You will.”

Palpatine stepped closer to them both—no, to Vader. Vader, on his knees, staring up at his master’s sagging face.

“And if you do not,” he intoned, “I will.”

Lightning flashed again.

This time, Vader flew right back—he was thrown against the floor so hard his head cracked against it, his vision blurred. For a moment, he blinked and there was nothing but darkness.

Then he opened his eyes again, a few moments later, to several things: the sound of more conversation, buzzing beyond his comprehension; yellow Aurebesh scrolling in front of his eyes, indecipherable; a bone deep ache everywhere in his body, including his stomach. Nausea roiled when he made the slightest movement to try to sit up.

But one thing stood out:

He was not dead.

Luke had betrayed him. Palpatine had shot him with enough Force lightning to short his suit out a thousand times—but it hadn’t.

It wasn’t supposed to. Vader had had it modified for the coup. But… Luke had known that.

Luke had known that—and hadn’t told Palpatine.

Luke…

Luke was standing right in front of him, and his hands held a beam of blood.

“No,” he hissed, voice choking with tears. “No, please, Master, don’t— don’t hurt him, don’t come any c—” He sucked in a breath, shaking.

Palpatine said, “Oh, Luke. I understand you are attached, but…” He took a step closer.

Luke took a step back, his heel bumping into Vader’s foot. “No! Stay away from him! I— I won’t let you—”

Palpatine grasped his white hand around Luke’s, gently, and turned the lightsaber off.

“Luke, it is time you shed your father. Allow the Force to claim his life to make way for the strong, as it always does. I have told you many times this last year, I look forward to the day I can officially have you as my apprentice.”

“No. No, please, leave him—”

“This is an important tie to sever. This is an important moment in your ascension to full Sith. It is time you took destiny by the hand and walked the path that was ordained for you, to greatness.”

Still with that tight grip on Luke’s wrist—Vader’s angle was strange, his vision blurring even more, but he thought he saw his nails break Luke’s skin and rage trickled in—Palpatine tugged Luke forwards.

Luke, boneless and broken, didn’t resist as he wrapped his arms around him in some semblance of a hug.

Luke… was shuddering. His shoulders were wracked with great sobs, his knees weak; he was half-leaning on Palpatine to stand up. Palpatine rubbed circles on Luke’s arm, his shoulder, murmuring things Vader could barely hear.

And then, over Luke’s shoulder, he smiled at Vader.

Smug, deadly, self-satisfied.

He knew he had won.

Once again, he had torn Vader’s most precious thing away from him—destroyed it, and made it his own.

He pulled back from the embrace, still leaving Luke a shaking mess to stand on his own. He came back closer, holding his wrists, wrapping Luke’s hand tightly around the hilt of the lightsaber once more.

“Now, my young apprentice,” he whispered, and there was a glee in his voice. “Are you ready to do what must be done?”

Luke’s shoulders stilled. Stood firm.

Luke took a deep breath.

Vader closed his eyes in preparation for the final blow.

“I am ready.”

The snap-hiss of the lightsaber made him flinch anyway, the red light of two strokes—two savage, precise strokes—filtering through his eyelids to herald him into the arms of death—

But no burning came for him.

There was a thump.

Vader pushed himself up to his knees, head spinning and really kriffing hurting, then blinked at the sight before him.

Luke stood, jaw clenched, face grim.

Then he turned back to his father, and the grimness melted into something a thousand times more tender. “Father, I—”

“You killed him,” Vader marvelled. Two strokes, to sever him into four pieces, from what he could tell—Luke had taken off his hands, then his head, in two brutal, graceful strokes.

“He knew about the coup already—months ago.” Luke swallowed. “I— I tried to play along, tried to make it seem like I was on his side—”

Luke was trembling again, face crumpling, his lightsaber falling to the floor. Vader shoved himself to his feet just to make the two-stride motion to seize his son around the shoulders, to catch him before he collapsed. Two unsteady ships weathering the starstorm together.

“You succeeded,” Vader said softly, brushing hair back from Luke’s face. “He is dead. You may have gone every so slightly off plan…” Luke managed a weak chuckle, though even that brought faint tears to his eyes. “…but it is of no consequence. You succeeded, son. You killed him.”

“And you were hurt.”

“I will live, Luke.” Vader cradled him against his chest like a newborn, tilting his head up to behold the empty throne, the red and black sliding and crumbling together. He still couldn’t see well, but perhaps he could see better than ever—when he looked at Luke’s face, the lights on his hair eclipsed it with a halo. “We will both live.”

He glanced back at the throne again and was already thinking about how to make it more suitable for his son. “We will live—we will rule.

“He will hurt us no longer.”

#whumptober2020 #whumptober #my writing #random words on a page #flash fiction #flash fiction: star wars #luke skywalker #darth vader #for darkness shows the stars #sheev palpatine

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