#That last part is more paranoia than Genuine Fear though. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yanderart · 4 years ago

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Once you found Shouto on the Anti-Purge forums, it felt so wonderful to be understood. So comforting to finally have someone you could rely on...

So, when you got a letter notifying you of your selection for the Annual Purge later on, of course you went to seek his help.

Should’ve known better than to trust strangers online, though.

My fic/portrait convo for the Yandere Purge Collab, from the Lovesick Discord. And please check the rest of the m. list for other amazing works set in the same AU!

Under the cut is the actual fic (Todoroki x Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 10k), as well as the respective TWs. Hope y'all enjoy 🥀

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Tws: Usual yandere ones (stalking, manipulation, delusion). Dub-con/Non-con. Non-consensual Drug Use, aka Aphrodisiacs. Death threats and sexism (from randoms on the forum, not Todo).

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You couldn’t think straight —hadn’t been able to since waking up again. All you could recognize amidst the fog currently obscuring your thoughts was the longing, prolonged, and tangible in its hold over your being.

You felt hot all over, the flames licking at your skin burning brightly as you squirmed from your place, eagerly attempting to get closer to the cold reprieve emanating from the man that held you.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N." One of his hands was steering you on his lap, the other one gently massaging your shoulders in a comforting motion. “I can only help you if you do."

If your judgment had not been overcast by the desire pushing away your self-awareness, then perhaps you could’ve heard the faint hint of amusement in his voice. Perhaps you would’ve thought to look up and finally encounter the content shine of his heterochromatic eyes.

“I feel…" speaking was laborious, your tongue impossibly weighty and your mind swirling with thoughts that escaped any semblance of coherence. “I feel hot all over. It hurts.”

The hand positioned around your waist went to search for one of your clenched ones, easily engulfing it in his grip as he nudged the side of your face with his chin rather tenderly. A gentle encouragement for you to stay attentive, anchoring you to the moment despite your dazed mindset.

“Show me then,” his low timbre tickled your skin, sending another wave of excruciating heat to wreak havoc inside your body, “Let me know where it hurts.”

With a stuttering sigh, you proceeded to press both of your hands to your lower stomach, gulping audibly before bringing them further down. Dancing just short of your underwear while your eyelids fluttered shut.

You knew your actions were out of character deep down. Even recognized the shadow of wrongness that distorted the current scene. You weren't supposed to do such things, weren't supposed to feel like that…

But the reality was that you were so excruciatingly warm by that point, and his palm felt so deliciously cold.

When you heard the dreadful siren going off in the distance, the instantly recognizable sound of the Purge starting at last, you were already too far gone to think of anything else but the fingers brushing against the thin cotton of your panties, so close to the evidence of your need soaking through them.

Your parents had told you not to trust strangers online once upon a time. You should’ve really taken their advice more to heart.

。。。。。

But first, perhaps a little tracing of your steps is in order —some necessary context to fully understand the extension of your plight.

You see, earlier that day you had woken up full of a peculiar mix of drive and determination. It was indeed Purge Day, the single day of the year you had grown to fear the most ever since childhood, and yet for once you found yourself oddly relaxed, filled to the brim with resolve instead of your usual nerves.

Which was already an unexpected turn of events, considering you had just gotten a letter notifying you of your selection as one of the accursed Darlings of the Night.

A gentle reminder that, if caught, your life would stop belonging to yourself for an entire dreadful year.

Because a Yandere had their sight on you now, or so the notice had informed you in impeccable typography. Anxious fingertips memorized the slight raise of inked words, inspecting every single detail the letter carried.

You had imagined a monster ready to pounce just outside your door then, fitting enough to be the carrier of your bad news. A preternaturally grotesque being, built from all the Yandere themed horror stories you had heard throughout the years.

And yet there you were, feeling safer in that instant than you had in years; Because this time you had a plan. He made sure to give you one you could easily follow.

Just like he later made sure to welcome you in with a kind smile and awfully persistent hospitality.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

You should've known better than to accept.

。。。。。

In the present, fingers were now dipping under the elastic of your panties, ghosting across feverish skin and encouraging your whimpers to grow louder.

"Is this what you want, then?" The man's breath tickled one of your ears, rough digits gathering your slickness with practiced ease. And he sounded genuinely concerned too, as if your discomfort was not a consequence of his own machinations. "Because I wanna ease your pain, baby. Give you what you truly need."

He barely even touched you yet you were already struggling not to crumble, the desire governing your mind mixing with the new sensations to create a new delirious kind of torment.

Continuing to tease you, the man was relentless in his torture, barely even brushing over your neediest spots. A gentle press of his palm to stimulate you for a moment before pulling back, much to your shameful frustration; Better than nothing, but not close enough.

In his own way, though, he was urging you to speak up. Expecting you to demand what you truly wanted.

Yet as a retort, all you could come up with was gasping out his name, dripping from your lips like honeyed prayers as your hips fought to buck up against his hand.

A sound you afterward repeated a hundred times over. Chanted until its melody became engraved on your tongue and the man was finally caving in, sliding his fingers inside with a smirk.

He had known you'd end up caving, had planned for it for months now, and yet nothing had prepared him for the actual view.

。。。。。

Shou, actually, had been his username when you first met him. Once upon a time recited with a genuine smile and an eagerness to please, such a far cry from the anguished whines it would later lead up to.

You started frequenting the forum he inhabited a few months back. A place which happened to be a hidden corner of the internet for people who did not just stumble upon it, but actually sought it out. A part of the web where its occupants challenged societal norms and, against what society had tried to condition you all into thinking, chose to voice their taboo Anti-Purge sentiments instead.

Sentiments perhaps born either due to the inherent discriminatory nature of the holiday (why was it that Yanderes were accommodated for, while Darlings barely got a warning before they were made prey?), a need for contrarianism (when opposing open kidnappings, assault and other debauchery became an act of rebellion), or just a tenuous moral high ground which made it unbearable to stomach. Whatever the reason, it was your first time encountering such a density of like-minded peers.

Despite attempting to commit yourself to being a lurker, deciding to never post or reply to others, your days had still quickly become consumed by the need to read each and every topic. You were simply fascinated with this new dark corner of the web.

That was, of course, until the aforementioned Shou became the main focus of your attention, a dash of intriguing brightness to break the monotony of your existence.

And like moths rushing to the flame, your curiosity would be your undoing.

There was something about him that pulled you in (along with many others from the community, which tended to flock on his posts whenever he grazed the forums). His username was clearly just a nickname instead of a carefully crafted pseudonym; profile picture just an image of the back of what you all assumed to be his hair, dual-toned strands catching the light in a hypnotic way.

Truly, his disregard for anonymity within those parts was a bigger statement than you were expecting, almost as commendable as it was dumbfounding. There was the nature of his postings too, never subtle about his inclinations or ideas.

How to disarm and reutilize Purge Traps.

Most effective ways to incapacitate a violent assailant.

Government lies and why they matter.

Faking a BOPC (breach of purge code) and getting away with it.

There was little method to the madness that was his forum activity, besides the hint that he was evidently more knowledgeable about the subject than most. Plus the fact that he was proactive about his advice, actually seeking to teach others to fight back instead of just hide away and hope for the best. For another self-proclaimed Darling, Shou was ruthless with his methods —it was hard not to admire him.

And admire you did, keeping tabs of his sporadic bursts of activity and speeding to try and interact with him whenever you caught him online. You were, to voice it simply, simply star-truck by him (and perhaps becoming a bit of a fangirl).

Because whoever Shou was, it felt like he understood you. And so, against every ounce of your common sense or natural paranoia, you had finally decided to break your golden rule and reach out for the first time since you joined the niche forum.

And not to just leave a vague comment agreeing on public discourse, but to actually send him a private message. In your defense, how were you supposed to know the chains of events your actions would start?

Do you actually believe what you post?, had been your lame conversation starter.

Luckily for you, he did not leave you hanging. You made sure to send the message while he was still active, one of the few days a week you knew he devoted to his presence on the site (and wasn't it slightly creepy, how you had taken the time to learn his schedule by that point?)

I wouldn't be here if I didn't, dry, to the point and leaving you embarrassed to have even sent the first question.

Yet for some reason, something about Shou reverted you back into a middle school kid seeking to impress a way cooler senior.

Perhaps it was what he symbolized (a change for the better), what he appeared to be (everything you wish you were) —whatever it was, your fingers were frantically typing a reply as soon as his appeared on your screen.

I just think it's amazingThe things you know

How you share them with everyone

The way you see through the lies

I just think you're— , your digits hovered over the keyboard as you were about to type out the last sentence before quickly deleting it. Even in your excitement, you knew how obsessed you'd sound if you started complimenting him personally in your very first conversation.

So instead you sent your thoughts on his posts and awaited his answer with bated breath. A few minutes ticked by this time, your anxiety making you count down the seconds in mortified silence, slowly weighted down by your doubts until your notifications for the forum were going off again with a distinct ping.

I've seen your replies around. I think you're great too.

Whatever your hang ups for praising him directly had been, he clearly did not harbor any. As the prongs of nervousness alleviated their hold over your body, you struggled to see any problems with it either…this was a person you had come to idolize, and they thought you were great?

Your smile, while still anxious, was considerable while you quickly responded.

I'm just a n00b. Learning from the pros.

A moment of thought, biting your bottom lip as you decided whether to add a second message or not. Fuck it, you told yourself.

I wasn't even supposed to be posting anything, but you made me wanna reach out.

Was that too forward? Oh god, it was, wasn't it? You must've sounded creepy, must've sounded desperate and…

That's cute. Did my ramblings teach you anything?

An actual squeal left you then, sounding like it came from an altogether different person. You were an adult, with a career and responsibilities… Yet somehow, this stranger online indirectly calling you cute made you more excited than you were comfortable admitting.

Ofc. I didn't even know what a BOPC was before. Didn't know most of the purge traps you mentioned, either.

The spaces between replies were getting smaller, the conversation turning fluent as you both seemed to be staring straight into the screen, waiting for the other to finish typing.

So you really are a n00b then.

Shit, did you fail some sort of forum etiquette by admitting that? Somehow, the need to impress Shou was more palpable than ever.

And you clearly know your stuff. Makes me wanna up my game.

Be more like you, you left unsaid.

So am I your senpai then?

Your fingers froze just above the keyboards, eyes scanning over Shou's last message and reverted back to staring at his profile pic for a solid minute. You would've squealed again, if you weren't so taken aback.

You make it sound like I am, his second message lit up your screen, coming in quickly after your rare pause in replies.

I don't think that's bad, though. Third message from him, and you were close to fainting now.

Then in that case I suppose you are. You wondered whether Shou wouldn't think you were pathetic admitting that, or whether he had been honest by saying he didn't mind...

I've also noticed you agreeing with some of my more polarizing views.

A welcomed change in topics.

You thought to ask him which ones (most of his posts tended to have a polarizing effect, with people finding him either too radicalized or not radicalized enough), but before you could formulate the question you saw the twinkling circles symbolizing he was typing up another sentence.

Do you actually believe them? And now it was his turn to spit your words back at you.

Well, yah. You make compelling arguments.

Color me impressed then, the start of his new retort left your mind spinning. Never met a n00b like you before.

After his declaration, you found yourself writing and rewriting your answer, hesitating on your word choice, and yet pure elation coursed through your veins.

He said he's impressed with me, your brain kept supplying on loop. You had no way of knowing just how much of a lasting impression you were leaving.

I don't wanna stay one tho. I'd like to jump a few levels. Improve.

Barely a moment's notice before his last message provoked a noticeable hitch in your breath.

I can help you with that.

Which, as short of a reply as it was, left you giddier than would’ve been healthier to admit.

Perhaps it could be chalked up to your work shifts growing more monotonous and tiresome, your social life becoming a faint echo of what it used to be, or just the regular wear and tear from a too-plain existence —a routine where you didn’t tend to engage with life, but just passively watched it go by.

Whatever the true reason was, that night you went to sleep with such a wide grin that the apples of your cheeks had started to hurt from the exertion, infinitely excited after getting to talk firsthand with someone you had already come to admire by that point.

It almost made you self-conscious, knowing just how much it all meant to you, how such a small gesture on his part happened to mean the world to you.

But there was really no reason to feel ashamed or overzealous over your own reaction. If you could’ve seen Shou, you would’ve known you weren’t the only one smiling.

。。。。。

Almost as open of a smile as the one adorning his features right now, currently hidden from your view as his fingers set a maddening pace. Tortuously slow at first until his knuckles started brushing against your opening with each thrust.

All you could hear now were the wet sounds of your arousal facilitating his movements, motions whose only purpose seemed to be to drive you more rambling and disoriented by the second.

"Is this what you want? What you need, perhaps?" His usually calm voice was uncharacteristically affected as he gasped against your ear, the torture he was making you endure clearly getting to him as well.

You were much too preoccupied with the waves of pleasure and warmth overflowing your body to give a proper response, but your lack of one did not deter him.

If anything, your needy gasps and whines were the only encouragement he required.

"Don't worry, Y/N. I'll take care of you, make you feel good."

By that point, the hand that had been petting your hair had found its way to your sopping heat too, calloused pads circling around your pearl while the man continued feeding you his eager promises.

"I get you, baby. Just like you get me." So close, your entire body taut and ready to snap. "And you want me to take care of you too, right?"

You weren't conscious enough to understand the implications, your impaired judgment prohibiting you from reading further into the meaning of his words. He sounded so encouraging, so deceivingly tender despite stuffing you full of his fingers as you squirmed on his lap.

All you could do was nod furiously.

And later on, when your senses sadly returned, dedicated yourself to lamenting over which of your actions brought you down this unfortunate path.

。。。。。

Perhaps, your consciousness supplied, it had been the fact that you opened up so readily. That you had dared to share with a supposed new friend, things that should’ve better stayed hidden in the first place.

But goddamn it, you felt downright honored that he even considered you worthy enough to entertain in the first place. From the very first second, Shouto already had the upper hand.

During the first few conversations, the topics you two discussed were all closely related to the purge and your mutual hang ups with it. Concise and carefully typed out messages were exchanged, discussing opinions you had never expected anyone to be interested in hearing—not from you, at least.

But then, as the weeks slowly progressed, the subjects of conversation began shifting to both of your lives, to your occupations, hobbies, and, directly against the forum's policy for privacy, the people you two were outside the confines of your online corner.

Even without actually exchanging any real data or supplying him with your name or age, you found yourself starting to open up more and more with each day.

You told him about your grueling office job, the friends you hadn’t seen or texted in weeks, and the reality of an apartment which more closely resembled a containment cell than a home…

Revelations that you had kept hidden for so long, which now came pouring out without regard for how mortified they made you feel. You were conscious of the limits blurring between you two the further you kept going, of how you were telling him things best left unsaid, cramped and buried in a hard to reach place.

And yet, for some obscure reason, everything Shou represented made it impossible for you to resist the temptation to speak up, to demand to be heard for the first time in an eternity of quietness.

You’re pathetic, is what you expected him to say in return. Pathetic, weak, meager, and worthless. Anticipating him, somehow, to echo all the doubts and deeply held fears you carried inside.

Most of my friends don’t understand either, was instead the response you received. But most people don’t see what's wrong, what needs to be changed. You feel lonely because you do.

It wasn’t clear what you would’ve wanted to hear beforehand, the things you had fantasized someone would reply if you ever gathered the courage to share your anxieties. Whatever those expectations had been an eternity ago, they now vastly paled when compared to what your new friend was dangling in front of you.

It felt like he was giving an excuse for things you had always perceived as personal failings. If what he said was true, it would mean it wasn’t your social ineptitude that kept people away, your uselessness, or uninteresting personality.

It would mean the shadows around you could still be dispelled somehow, exorcising the silhouettes of a suffering that had become a regular companion in your day to day life.

Brandishing a courage that only anonymity could give you, your fingers were a blur on your keyboard as you tried to ignore the rapid heartbeat in your chest, the fear, and exhilaration from opening up for the first time in forever.

Something you would later regret a thousand times over.

And you do too, and it wasn’t a question, a nervous comment or a stuttered retort. With the aid of the text format, you could look as confident as you knew you weren’t. You understand as well.

You understand me, was the tacit meaning behind it. The prickling of unshed tears made it so you were furiously blinking, fighting against the downpour despite your eyes refusing to leave the screen for longer than an instant.

I do. More than you realize.

For all intents and purposes, your first mistake was indeed opening up.

And your second one was being naive enough to let him in. Seriously, why hadn’t you heeded your parent’s advice about stranger danger?

。。。。。

...If they could only see you now, coming apart at the seams and with the name of your tormentor being the only word you were able to string together.

"Such a beauty, and all for me," his praises accompanied you through the rough orgasm ripping through your body, lips kissing your forehead in stark contrast to the digits still pumping inside your heat. "Let me hear your voice, baby. Let me hear how beautiful my name sounds on your lips."

And you obeyed, because what other choice did you have. Mindless, broken, and oh, so needy.

You continued to audibly moan as your climax unwound, crying out his name in absolute reverence while Shouto's smile deepened against your skin. The chill of his touch was still as soothing as ever, calming down the embers of a lust that refused to completely die down.

When he finally pulled his hands from your core, you felt excruciatingly empty. But you were not given enough time to wallow in your despair, because who you once considered your friend was then grasping your face gently between his hands, leading your gaze to meet his—forcing you to witness the intensity and adoration present there.

"My Y/N."

Even in your deeply intoxicated state, the last few dredges of your senses supplied just how utterly abhorrent the situation was.

The sirens signaling the start of the Purge had died down a while ago, drowned out by your own cries of pleasure, but you could still see the remnants of the government logo still plastered all over the TV, its bright glow bathing you both in an eerily scarlet ambiance.

From the same weak place of coherence, a shiver of fear managed to break through your stupor.

"You're going to continue to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

When he kissed you then, slow and almost ironically hesitant despite what had just transpired moments before, you couldn't begin to tell your body to refuse. Much to your own horror, you were soon eagerly kissing your tormentor back.

。。。。。

The second mistake leading up to your downfall, on the other hand, took a little longer to occur. It was after a few more weeks of conversation. You vented and talked way too much, while Shou listened intently and even rewarded you with a few crumbs of advice of his own.

So wrapped up in your new seemingly innocuous friendship you were in, you failed to recognize the magnitude of an event that should've sent you scrambling to shut off your monitor. A warning so loud it would've put the Purge sirens themselves to shame.

You see, with Shou's help, you were slowly becoming more of an active user around those parts. You didn't just stick to replying to his posts or lurking until he shot you a private message anymore; no, you were now officially a contributor, deciding to step out of your anonymity to share what you thought was a fairly interesting article. It was a rather long-winded thinkpiece on the morality of Darlings’ treatment after the Purge had ended—the reality of that year spent in captivity that most people tended to just brush under the carpet, all in the name of making the entire ordeal more palatable to digest.

In all your eagerness, however, you had failed to realize a very crucial detail, which was that the article was a whole two days old. Already an ancient text by forum's standards, apparently.

So with that in mind, of course you should've expected the hate, an outpouring of bitterness fit for a community of loners and acidic underdogs. You were on an anonymous forum on one of the darkest parts of the internet, somewhere most sane people actively stayed away from—Clearly, a rookie unwittingly reposting something was the perfect target for a lot of your bitter comrades. An excuse to finally take out all of their pent up frustration.

Fuck1ng pleb, thanks for copy-pasting the same post for the 55th time.

This is why we shouldn't let newbies post. Look at this mess @mods.

Time to hang it up, n00b. And by “it”, I mean your f****** neck.

i bet ur a girl, [Username]. u type like a b1tch.

And the icing on the cake for internet interactions, a myriad of wall spamming "KYS" being plastered all across the comment section, bold and daunting as they filled your notification box with the repetitions of hate. If you weren't so sure of your safety behind your screen, perhaps you would've felt intimidated.

As it stood, you were just embarrassed, mortified at the fact that you had seemingly botched your only attempt at leaving a positive first impression. If anything, it only seemed you had given everyone a common enemy to pick on for once...

Or that was, at least, until Shou happened to log in at exactly that precise moment. You knew he was usually busy around that day and time (he never actually told you whether he had a job, but you had surmised as much from your past chats), so his instantly recognizable profile picture and username popping up had you genuinely gasping at first. It was one hell of a coincidence, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at what looked to be your savior.

Everyone, stop getting your panties in a twist. This is why no new users end up staying, the environment is abhorrent.

It was vague enough not to betray the fact that you two weren’t just strangers anymore, as well as keeping Shou’s reputation as a lone wolf from completely shattering.

And a comment which, surprisingly, instantly dulled most of the incoming messages your post was being flooded with.

People respected him there, his status as a renowned user giving him a genuine sort of power and hold over the rest of the community. One of the first things you had recognized on the forums was the distinct hierarchical structures amongst its users, and there Shou might’ve as well be granted the title of mayor for all the weight his every sentence carried.

Or at least they did with the majority of the community. As in every place where large numbers of people gathered, there were always a few rotten apples just begging to be tossed.

and ofc ur whiteknighting for her, Shou The Great. shes sucking ur dick under evry single post u make

You cringed, studying the bitter user that had decided to be a contrarian and easily recognizing him from unsavory past encounters you witnessed. Although, if you were completely honest, this time you couldn't exactly say his words didn't carry a certain degree of validity.

Shou had told you he was glad that was the case with you, that his post resonating with anyone was one of the main reasons why he hadn't just disappeared from the site completely. But in reality, saying you weren't subtle about your agreement with his ideas would be an understatement.

You were like a puppy skipping behind him, trailing his interactions and always ready to write an eager comment backing him up. Yet you had never thought others actually paid attention to your mostly one-sided interactions, the occasional meager downvote or emote being the only thing that made you aware your comments weren’t just lost in the sea of spam Shou’s posts were usually showered in.

For the longest time, your support had just felt like leaving letters for the man to find. Letters you hadn’t even been sure had reached their target until a few weeks back...

Suddenly, the sharp sound of Shou's incoming reply drove you from your tribulations.

Well, maybe if you weren't such a crude man you wouldn't be permabanned from starting topics yourself. Although I doubt anyone would be sucking your dick either way, shitty ideology considered. [Image attached]

A grimace was quick to grow on your face as you aptly studied the picture Shou decided to close his reply with.

It was a screenshot of what looked to be someone's post history, a rather extensive list with alarmingly offensive titles such as "Why male darlings should be spared", "The purge is a form of cuckoldry" and “Feminist agenda: female yanderes and their biological advantage [Repost]". Almost all of them exhibited a tragic downvote ratio right as well, besides the red symbol signaling the posts had been archived by senior users or mods.

For someone who also loathed the terrible holiday, it was almost admirable how the man managed to be almost as detestable as the criminals you all rallied against.

But even so, what disturbed you the most wasn't the clear bigotry of the user, but the fact that that screenshot couldn't have been taken from public records. A user's post history was hidden, just another measure on the site’s part to keep people from recognizing too many details about each other and possibly endangering themselves.

No, it could only have been taken from inside the account. And judging from the other guy's quick reaction, you weren't the only one who came to that realization.

how the fck did u get that

I knew u were friends with the mods. fcking rats

By that point, everyone else had stopped clogging the comments and, you assumed, instead opted to settle down and attentively observe the events transpiring. Apart from the emote reactions and the rapidly rising number of upvotes on Shou’s comments, you had all become a passive audience to the public ridicule.

Although you couldn’t help feeling slightly disjointed by Shou’s behavior. Below your wicked sense of pride at having him defend you, there was still the whispers of your gut telling you the man was going a little too far, his actions spelling a more sinister meaning than just “having a friend’s back”.

You've been here for years, Minoru. Surprised you haven't yet noticed how much of a pest everyone sees you as.

Minoru? You did a double-take, going back to read the username of the guy Shou was arguing with. But he just had a randomly generated number as a pseudonym, same as you and most others, and with just a picture of some anime sneezing girl to distinguish his profile from the rest. No trails or signs of what could Shouto be referencing to.

Nothing but an option you preferred not to consider. But it couldn't be, could it? your friend wouldn’t...

fucking delete that right now, man.

this isn't a joke, DELETE THAT.

Only that the abrasive and desperate reaction told you everything you needed to know. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, shock mixing with equal parts horror and amazement you couldn’t even begin to try and disentangle. Because right that second, you were witnessing your friend breaking the forum’s number one rule with a front-row seat to the spectacle.

And he was doing it all in your name.

Then maybe think twice before you go out of your way to harass newbies. Or have you had too much time on your hands after being fired, is that it?

It was vague enough not to represent any kind of threat... if not for the context of the site. And yet you all knew the hidden message behind it, the warning for whoever Minoru was to understand Shou knew much more than what he was letting on. That he could expose much more than he was currently alluding to.

y are u even doing this, shou? y do u care wtf happens to this noobslut anyways?

Shou's reply took barely a moment to appear, lighting up your screen and, despite the slightly morbid nature of his protection, coaxing out a smile to adorn your lips. It was like a balm being applied to your worries, quieting down most of your incipient concerns in favor of rejoicing.

They're a friend.

For fuck’s sake, you even screenshotted that for posterity. Somehow, him acknowledging the new bond you two had openly felt like a milestone.

When a mod came in to archive the post and give everyone involved a stern warning later on, you were already way past your previous doubtful sentiments.

Instead, the last thing you did before going to sleep that day was to open up your private conversation with Shou and send a quick yet heartfelt message of gratitude his way.

Months prior, you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be thanking anyone for semi doxxing another human being. How rapidly things were changing, though, and all while you got lost in the thrill of mattering.

Thanks for sticking up for me. It meant a lot, you typed feeling slightly lightheaded, drunk on the idea that anyone would think you worthy of having your back.

You thought Shou went offline after dishing out his not so thinly veiled threats, but somehow he was back again in an instant, the sound of notifications going off shaking any remnants of your exhaustion.

Anything for you, [Y/N].

You were so tired, it didn't occur to you that you hadn't yet shared your real name with your friend either.

That night, for once, you fell asleep with a twinkle in your eye and the image of Shou's multicolored locks dancing against your eyelids. Imagining, ever so briefly, your fingers trailing down the back of a neck you now had memorized from analyzing his profile picture.

And, while you slept with your phone clutched to your side, you also failed to notice the peculiar sound of your own camera going off, the soft glow from the red light beside your lense bathing your features in its subtle illumination, flickering against your eyelashes and the lingering grin on your curved lips.

You truly looked angelic like that.

Suffice it to say, Minoru never bothered you again after that day. In fact, his name disappeared from the site not too soon after.

。。。。。

But now, to continue the grueling task of giving a context for your inevitable end, it is necessary to jump a month further into the future, barely a week from the excruciating present.

Because it was then that the last strike finished nailing the coffin of your proverbial undoing, burying you under the weight of your own ignorance.

You got your notice in the mail on the Day of Announcements, an inconspicuous letter lacking any further distinction beyond a scarlet government seal emblazoned across its front. But even before you opened and read the message, you already knew of its contents—easily recognizing the image before you from several of the varied posts you had seen floating around on the forums lately.

Purge Notice!!! Help needed Urgently.

Just got my letter. Do I stay hidden or fight back? [Open poll]

Third time getting mine. AMA about my methods.

The range of how you had seen other users reacting to their own selections was diverse, with some of them being more experienced while others, such as you, had just gotten their first letter ever. If things played out differently for you, then you were sure you would've been another one of the numerous panicked voices, awkwardly trying to maneuver their way out of their new situation.

And maybe, then, your odds wouldn't have been so completely fucked from the start.

As it stood, as soon as you laid eyes on the notice, the first thing you thought of was how quickly you could boot up your computer and open the forum’s private messages. Because, for the first time in forever, you were overwhelmed by the feeling of someone else being there for you.

Shou was your friend, had earned that spot fair and square after months of listening to you venting and sharing deep discussions; faster than you could even realize it, and so it was only natural for you to seek his help once the news of your selection for the new yearly Purge reached you.

He had even threatened another user for your sake, for fuck’s sake. So, really, what harm could come out of relying on someone you were sure was trustworthy?

Maybe it was too late by that point for you to snap out of it, but it was almost amusing seeing you being so easily deceived.

Just another reason why you needed him, certainly.

。。。。。

Already told you I'd have your back, had been his immediate reply barely an instant after you attached a candid photo of your hand holding up the envelope. Whatever you need, I’m here.

His lack of hesitation was palpable through your screen, heart hammering in your chest as you were faced with a kindness you had thought yourself undeserving of not long ago.

As soon as you closed your mailbox, you had immediately raced to send him the message, completely foregoing telling any of your other friends or family members when you doubted they would even understand you in the first place. Shou had been right when he told you people just didn’t want to see the truth, even if it slapped them right in the face, leaving dark imprints in the shape of their narrow mindedness.

But he was there, he was letting you know as much, in his own words. And for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few months, you felt incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon the Forums in the first place, to have traced whatever fortunate path had led you to find him—the one person able to distinguish you in a world you always thought you blended straight into.

Thank you, Shou, for everything. And at that moment, you really had been truthful, so much so that there were tears prickling at your eyes, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude drowning you with its intensity.

Indeed, your final mistake had been your desperate need for acceptance. A need that had, in the end, cost you everything.

You can call me Shouto now. No use for nicknames anymore.

Amidst the chaos of your life possibly crashing down all around you, somehow his revelation put a trembling smile back in your face.

Then allow me to repeat: thank you, Shouto.

Np, Newbie. Told you I'd help you level up, didn't I?

His teasing managed to garner a small stuttering laugh out of you despite the dreadfulness of your situation.

But you couldn’t help it. Somehow, every reply Shouto sent you only served to wrap the illusion of safety tighter around you. So tight in fact, that you should’ve started worrying about suffocating.

。。。。。

On the other side of the screen, the man with the multicolored hair couldn’t help but keep staring at the picture you had sent him earlier.

He was transfixed, eyes almost unblinking as they refused to separate from the image. The way your fingers tentatively held the letter up for the picture was simply adorable to him. Beautifully naive.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen your face before, like he hadn't already memorized the texture of your skin and the everlasting trace of a frown always threatening to dampen your mood. He read your expressions like poetry, every mole and scar furthering the securing of his interest.

But this was the first picture you had actually chosen to send him out of your own volition, the final symbol of a trust he had worked so tirelessly to earn. Used to catching prey as he was, the man wasn’t entirely sure when you had turned from a game into a priority, from a priority into the only thing he could even make himself care for.

And it didn’t help that it was his letter you were holding, too. His formal declaration of pursuit.

With time, Shouto was sure you would find it in yourself to appreciate the beauty of such irony.

But, for now, what he really needed to do was buy some tea. Couldn’t have your own stubbornness ruining your first encounter, could he?

。。。。。

In the coming weeks, your friend aided you and even coached you as you jointly planned for the horrific holiday, not only suggesting ideas but tracing the safety measures needed for them to succeed. You really had no reason to doubt him by that point.

That evening, after you finished letting Shouto know you were back from work, you made sure to pack all of your supplies into an inconspicuous bag you had acquired for the occasion. Whoever your Yandere was, it was best to not give any hints of your new acquisitions, just in case they were already stalking your movements.

Shouto had helped you devise the list, mentoring you in your selection of weapons as well as self-defense arsenal—what brands of pepper spray to get, which ammunitions were most efficient and reliable, even what kind of clothing was the least troublesome if the need to escape ever arose. If you had been sure he knew his craft before, now you were surprised at just how vast his wisdom genuinely was.

After the last few finishing touches of preparations, you were already on your way to the direction you had both agreed on (supplied by him, approved by you). There were several hours until the start of the Purge still, but the adrenaline swimming through your bloodstream was already considerable.

Shouto had suggested you visited him for the Holiday, quoting how the measures in place for his home made it nothing short of a fortified vault, impossible for any outsiders to break into (and for anyone to break out of, but let's not get ahead of ourselves).

With that in mind, how could you have refused his offer? Your place was barely an excuse for an apartment, windows that didn't entirely close, and feeble doors that could be easily broken into. Even if you weren't partly driven by the curiosity of meeting your new internet idol turned friend, it would've been foolish to decline.

So in a few hours, you were sporting a nervous smile on your face as you parked your car in front of the largest apartment complex you had ever encountered. It was luxurious in a way you had only seen staring back at you from a television screen, marble, and gold accents giving you the impression you were about to step into a drama set instead of visiting an online friend.

Before the surrealism of the entire situation could begin to set in, however, you noticed the young man sitting on the ample stairs of the building. He had an air of effortless elegance, tall and lithe, yet sporting a black turtleneck which hugged his frame and made it clear just how much sheer strength hid behind his movements.

And he also sported the same peculiarly colored locks you had already memorized from the last few months, the light softly reflecting on them proving to be an even more impressive show when admired live.

You were dazzled for an instant, wondering if, somehow, this entire thing was a prank and the Shou from the forums had just schemed his way into making a fool out of you in front of a handsome stranger. Way too convoluted, yet entirely too plausible to your bewildered self.

Until the man lifted his eyes—as beautifully dual-toned as his hair, and catching sight of you standing just beside your recently parked vehicle.

"Y/N," he was sharply climbing to his feet as he called out your name, the shy hint of a smile in his lip contradicting the monotone cadence of his tone. "Good to finally meet you."

You had first been under the impression that the Shou you knew was cold, the way he interacted with others on the site reminding you of an emotionless robot at times, but the man addressing you seemed like he was ripped straight out of a stereotypical rom-com.

Maybe he'd be the aloof, tormented heir? Which, in your fantasy drama land, would make you the nearly illiterate and poor love interest. Your feelings of inadequacy only grew at the comparison.

Almost cute, how that had been one of your greatest worries once upon a time. How foolishly eager you were to be liked back then.

"Shouto." The name still felt somewhat strange on your lips, even after he had insisted you started calling him that. "It's good to meet you, too."

He was by your side in an instant, taking your bags from you swiftly and shutting the door to your ride. From this up close, it became considerably harder to disguise your staring.

Even the scar which covered his left eye, a splash of reddish textured skin, somehow came across like yet another enhancer of his appeal. An underlying harshness which you couldn't help but be intrigued by.

"Your hair looks even better in person."

And leave it to you to once again find a way to screw first impressions. You were chastising yourself a mere second after the words left your mouth.

But Shouto only sent you that same hint of a smirk your way, his eyes appearing genuinely pleased at your praise. If he thought you were a weirdo and was regretting ever inviting you to his house, then he was a good enough actor for you to be fooled.

And fooled you he did, but with completely different intentions.

"You look just like in your pictures," came his serene retort not long after.

Which you assumed was a joke, keeping in mind that the only photo you had ever sent his way had been of the Purge letter you received a few days ago.

Laughing lightly, you tried to ignore the nerves tugging at your chest before catching up with him on the steps of the building.

As you giddily barged straight into the open jaws of the beast, it once again struck Shouto how utterly unsuspecting you were. How you trusted him so wholeheartedly.

He couldn't wait to see it all come crashing down.

。。。。。

Inside his honest to god penthouse, your previous feeling of insufficiency only became more severe.

The interiors were decorated sparingly, albeit fashionably. Filled with different muted shades and being unexpectedly traditional in the way they were designed. It was a stunning abode, even if you couldn't help but mentally point out how utterly unlived in it appeared.

There was not a single cup, shoe, or book out of place, everything perfectly polished and organized to the point that you felt hesitance as your sock-covered feet continued making their way through the place.

"Make yourself at home," Shouto told you most matter-of-factly. If you weren't so sure of his intentions by now, perhaps you would've thought he was being sarcastic.

Without any of your belongings to distract yourself with, you instead gravitated towards what you could see of the kitchen through one of the sliding doors.

It was very modern despite the rest of the aesthetic the penthouse sported, shiny stainless steel and spotless dark countertops. It should've looked out of place when paired with the carpeted floors, wooden furniture, and sparse pieces of classical Japanese art…

Yet somehow, it strangely fits. Just like his owner, you supposed, thinking back to the oddities that amounted to his unique brand of appeal.

And you really needed to stop thinking of your friend like that.

When you heard the door to the apartment being audibly locked with a resounding click, you instantly stopped your fingers grazing the smooth countertops. Your instincts flared up with worry for a moment, right before you forcefully willed yourself to calm down.

After reminding yourself of the true reason why you were there, the exhale you released next was one of clear relief.

"Want something to drink?" Shouto appeared in your line of sight again, hands buried in the pockets of his pants and looking like the picture of composure.

You felt embarrassed once again, knowing he had given you a free pass to roam but still somewhat self-conscious about intruding on his space.

"You don't need to make me anything. I'm fine." Your timbre was apologetic, not used to slipping into the role of a guest just yet.

He seemed strangely dissatisfied with your answer, closing some of the distance between you with a presence that had you almost flinching back for a second.

There was an intensity in his gaze, something which you could not quite yet place.

"But I want to be a good host. So let me." He appeared very serious about it, too, with his face growing stern as his peculiar eyes bore into yours.

Not wanting to cause further distress, you imagined relenting would be the best course of action.

It was like you were molded to be the perfect Darling, so wonderfully meek and gullible.

"Okay then. Water is fine."

Yet Shouto shook his head, still somewhat dissatisfied with your answer.

"Tea it is." His phrasing allowed little space for argument. "I know you mentioned liking a few brands before, so I took the liberty of stocking up on them."

A surprising burst of laughter broke through your anxious feelings then, drawing Shouto's eyes again from the particular cabinet they had drifted to as he mentioned the beverages.

He looked at you puzzled, an unasked question written all over his otherwise blank expression, and so you decided to reply from the surge of unexpected amusement you were experiencing.

"It's only a night, Shou," you didn't even realize you had slipped back into his nickname, too entertained by how much he had apparently overdone his hospitality. "There really wasn't any need for you to go buy my favorite teas."

His eyes blinked quite slowly your way, his expression back to his vacant mask before a smile reappeared.

"I wanted you to feel welcomed," he supplied as he approached the cabinet he was eyeing before, dedicating himself to searching for whatever kind of flavor of tea he had in mind.

In response, you just shrugged your shoulders with another chuckle.

"And I didn't get you anything. You're making me feel even more out of place."

"Nonsense," he cut you off in that deadpan way of his, hands rummaging through the most ridiculously vast tea collection you had ever seen. And then he added, decidedly quieter, "today is supposed to be about you, after all."

Too bad you didn't pick up on it.

When he ushered you back to the salon with barely a wave next, pointing at one of the cushions arranged around the short-legged table, you decided to follow his suggestion and wait there while he finished brewing the drinks. By now, you understood the futility of offering any kind of help when he was still so intent on properly welcoming you.

So, curious as you were, your eyes continued to inspect each and every inch of the apartment, drinking up all the pieces of info you could observe, that you didn't even think of the potential dangers of letting a stranger fix you a cup while you weren't looking.

Unbeknownst to the other, you were both actively counting down the seconds until the Purge started, minds lost to your own inner turmoils from opposite sides of the suite.

And for entirely different reasons, you were both filled with anticipation.

。。。。。

Meanwhile, finally back in the present after retracing the steps that guided you there, it was becoming increasingly hard to compartmentalize the chaos brewing inside you.

Shouto’s lips were the personification of hunger against yours, an inescapable gluttony to mark and consume every single inch of you he could encompass.

After a hint of understanding returned to your body post-orgasm, your vision and the sensations you endured were becoming disturbingly vivid. It was impossible to conceive anything beyond his hands ridding you of your flimsy camisole, palms cold in comparison to the heat you felt, splaying against your sides and slowly making their way up the sensitive mounds of your chest.

“All mine, baby.” You barely registered his teeth nipping at your bottom lip until a shock of pain snapped you out of your trance.

He bit you, and quite harshly too, but when you tried to instinctually pull back his response was to hold you even tighter. Before you could attempt to voice your complaints, his tongue was darting out to clean up the droplets of blood he spilled.

“Out of all the Darlings I’ve played with, you’re the only one I’ve ever even considered keeping, you know?”

And now that had you freezing, even amidst the cloud of desire still muddling your cognizance. His arms pressed you closer still, forcing you to bury your face against his chest, completely unphased by the bloody mess your mouth had morphed into.

Had he tricked others before then? Was that the reason why he was even on the Forums in the first place?

You wanted to ask him what he meant, wanted to demand explanations for a phrase that had dread closing around your neck like a noose. But whatever he slipped into your drink to keep you so awfully responsive and pliable, also appeared to make forming any complex sentences incredibly hard…

Shou, ever the receptive one, caught onto your change in demeanor rather aptly. His face nuzzled your hair softly, humming a calming melody as if you were a scared child who could be so easily reassured. Meanwhile, his hands hadn’t abandoned your breasts, still tenderly kneading them with a touch bordering on worship.

“But I’m glad you weren’t my first, baby. Means I could be all ready for when we met.” He rocked you both as he rested his back further on the sofa, opening his legs wider below you and forcing you to settle closer to his clothed groin with a whimper.

Your arms reached out to grasp his shoulders while you tried to stabilize yourself, the strain of his erection resting snuggly against your still sensitive slit.

"Helped me to know when to pull back," he kept confessing, purposefully thrusting into you while he kept lovingly massaging your chest, fingers twisting your hardened peaks to coax a new kind of mewl to be uttered against his skin. "Wouldn't want you to break now that I've finally found you."

The fact that your bodies seemed to fit so perfectly, even in your impaired state, was not an irony lost on you.

Abruptly, Shouto stopped fondling your breasts in order to maneuver your face again, both of your stares meeting in a vehement standoff before he continued.

“I’ll make this as close to perfection as I can, I promise you.” And you got a direct view of the vulnerability in his uniquely colored eyes, the nature of his words clearly heartfelt despite the atrocities they alluded to.

As you heard him drag his zipper down, the hand clutching your jaw trembling in anticipation, you couldn’t help the new wave of warmth spreading through your body, negating all the fear and anxiousness warring inside you in order to shamefully expose your baser desires.

Now that whatever had been clouding your judgment was pulling back slightly, your thought process had begun to snap back into place, overflowing you with a terrible sense of shame at your own reactions.

He gave you something earlier with your drink, you were sure of it, and yet you couldn’t help but still be horrified at just how much you were enjoying it. Once you felt the flushed head of his cock placidly rubbing against your thigh, the sounds leaving your mouth weren’t ones of complaint, peril or dissent.

Quite the contrary, actually, and it only made Shouto grow bolder.

As the hand clutching your face grew tenser, gripping you with force before tugging harshly, you got the hint. Now painfully following his lead, it wasn't long before the previous pressure against your legs was now resting directly against your cunt.

The pre-cum already gathered on him mixed in with your still oozing arousal, smearing the span of your outer lips as he lightly teased you one last time.

You were so mortified by that point, that if he had offered to end your embarrassment right then and there with one of the several weapons you knew he kept, you would’ve been very inclined to accept.

“... I didn’t even think there was such a thing as 'The One' before, actually.” You hadn’t even realized the man was still talking, ardent whispers getting lost on the intensity of the situation.

His eyes were searching your face, a satisfied twinkle lighting them up as soon as you returned his stare of your very own volition. Perturbed, you wondered if his delusion made him see anything beyond a twisted mix of lust and fear reflected back at him.

“But I now know just how wrong I was, Y/N.” So sure of himself, tone back to the stern cadence you previously associated with him for a moment, gripped by a gravity befitting of his obsession. “Indeed, I think you were always meant to be my darling… don't you agree?”

To your credit, you did struggle to speak up, to gain back the control over a body which had stopped listening long ago. Too bad you only managed a single pitiful word out.

“Shouto…”

But before you could even fathom attempting a better response, he was breaching into you, sheathing himself with an ease you wished you could overlook, turning your voice from an anguished plea into outrageously labored moans.

You had once thought Shou had been interested in you because he somehow perceived you as anything but pathetic, but you were beginning to think it had been your weakness which drew him in all along.

So deliciously frail, that even a predator like him had been driven with an urgent need to protect you. To break you down, just so he could be the one to build you back together.

As he started fucking you with shallow thrusts, hips bucking up from the sofa while he tenderly guided you until your body was mimicked his motion on its own, you couldn’t help but be the most disturbed at his oddly affectionate ways.

As awful as it sounded, now that your mind had awakened from its stupor all you wanted was for him to bend you over and abuse you, manhandle you and mistreat you in a way which unequivocally screamed assault. You wanted bruises painting your skin, proof that you hadn’t just willingly given up and facilitated your own ruin.

He was humiliating you despite the pretty words he decided to disguise it as—showing you how easily he could own you and even make you enjoy it, drug-addled drink or not.

But as his mouth latched around one of your hardened nipples, sucking generously until his name was once again fast on your tongue, you also couldn’t deny the crystal clear responses you were giving.

You could attempt to lie to yourself later, could swear it was all a delusion born out of the deranged man's mind, but the particular brand of your screams was unmistakable.

When your own hand reached down to facilitate your release, you knew you were already acting beyond what you could've previously attributed to the drugs. Toying with your bundle of nerves, you rested your forehead against Shouto's shoulders, tears from the pleasure mixing in with the subjacent agony of your guilt.

Why did it have to feel so good? And how far did the drugs truly affect you? Or had they just peeled back your inhibitions perhaps, baring you until all you had were dark desires and no self-control to contain them.

You still tasted blood inside your mouth when your walls started clenching around his cock, the coppery flavor entirely too vivid on your tongue. Hearing his own choked groans gasping against your chest, you felt his mouth abandoning your bud with a pop before his kisses were trailing a path back up—eager in their search of your face, your lips.

You were still cumming by the time a lascivious kiss connected you two again, unwinding in his grasp until his hands were the only thing keeping you whole.

“Even if I wasn't taught how,” he began promising while his rhythm grew frantic, barely resisting the allure of your core fluttering around him. “I promise I’ll love you, Y/N. Love you so good, you won’t ever want to leave when the next Purge comes.” He was getting increasingly excited by his own words, imagining a future where you did not need the aid of a little cup of tea to eagerly kiss back. “I’ll fuck you every day, fill you up and show you just how much I care. How much you matter.”

Faced with his degenerate promises, all you could do was gasp out his name one last time, perhaps seeking to express your reticence, perhaps oddly excited by the image he was painting.

You indulged him in the pitiful sound of your whimpers molding around its syllables, and it wasn’t long before you were coaxing him to join you with an orgasm of his own.

He actually came inside, you recognized inwardly after the aftershocks of enjoyment now quieted down to a lull, a new type of dread quickly following the realization. His cum was still shooting in hot ropes, stuffing you to the brim with the intent and purpose of a man bent on marking you, owning you.

But Shouto was so loving as he kissed you time and time again, painfully reminding you of just how nice he could be for you, how gentle and attentive. It made the lines between your tormentor and a traditional lover blur even further, the confusion clouding your sense not merely born out of narcotics any longer.

You had been so preoccupied with a monster outside your house once. A creature ripped from the kind of movies that were ripe with cheap scares and considerably cheaper thrills.

But monsters never were like that in real life, were they? As the man continued to cradle you in his arms like the most vulnerable of creatures, you were suddenly struck by how glaringly obvious things should’ve been from the beginning.

Because your Yandere’s obsession had not come with claws and a row of sharp teeth. No, it came instead with a suit of deception to hug its frame, the bait of acceptance, and the promise of a reliable ear to comfortably listen. It arrived with whispers that assured you that you were not alone, that it was not you who was flawed, but the world for not welcoming you.

It dangled everything your little heart desired, so by the time you were reaching out, you were simply too distracted to notice the dangers of the abyss you were throwing yourself at.

Luckily for you, Shouto had made such a void his home. And for however long it took you to consider the darkness as your own, his was a kind of hospitality that no amount of your struggles could ever hope to wear down.

And if the worst came to pass, if you kept stubbornly refusing and fighting despite your odds? Well…

He could always brew you another cup of tea.

-------

Well, I can finally rest now 💀

This monster of a one-shot took me a lot longer than expected, so I ended up being a lil later to the collab that I would’ve liked. Either way, I’d really appreciate hearing any feedback or opinions on either the fic or art (or both?)... I swear that’s what keeps me motivated ;___;

So fr, thanks to everyone who takes the time to let me know your takes! y’all are the bests of the best 🖤 And speaking of bests of best, special thanks and gratitude to the actual angels who helped and gave me feedback for both the art and/or fic @reinawritesbnha , @drxwsyni, @wootato, @snappysnapo and @coyambition. Don’t catch me seeing y’all drop your crowns bc it’s on sight 😠 👑

#bnha fanart #todoroki #yandere todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha imagines #bnha #mha fanart #bnha x reader #todoroki fanart #todoroki smut #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #anime fanart #bnha smut #bnha art #artists on tumblr #just art tingz

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cherienymphe · 5 years ago

Text

Saving Grace (Alpha!Thor x Omega!Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, Alpha!Thor

summary: when an Avenger literally falls out of the sky and into your life, you take it upon yourself to nurse him back to health. It is easier said than done when you must hide your true nature from the blond god

It was a quiet night. Most nights were, but sometimes you could hear the faint howling of wolves or the scurrying of some smaller animal outside the cottage. The kettle on the stove was starting to let out a soft whistle, and you knew that it would be ready soon. You could hear a faint rumble from outside, but you paid the thunder no mind.

Your garden could use some rain. You started to undress, staring at the clawfoot tub in the corner with longing. You could practically feel the heated water warming your skin as you watched the steam rise from it while nearing it. You sank into it with a soft sigh, closing your eyes and leaning your head back as you relaxed.

You’d spent most of the day outside, planting some more fruits and vegetables that you’d bought from town. You didn’t get done until late, but that was your fault for waking up much later than you had expected. You were still getting used to the time change and lack of technology, despite how long it’d been since you’d moved here.

You swallowed as you thought of your family and friends and the life you’d left behind. The loneliness of your solitude made your heart clench, but you told yourself that it was for the better. It was safer than the alternative, safer than becoming nothing more than a warm body to some chauvinistic alpha who didn’t value you beyond what was in between your legs.

Both of your parents had been betas. They had often told you they’d thought you’d be no different, but they were wrong. You all were. As soon as you had turned 18, you had experienced the worst pain imaginable that came with your first heat. Your parents had been horrified, distraught even. You had always been their little girl, and the thought of you eventually submitting yourself to an alpha was too much for them.

You had been taken out of school halfway through your senior year, homeschooled through the rest. You hadn’t gone to a campus, instead taking your college courses online. You had never left the house. Instead, you had stayed locked away for years per your parents’ orders…and you didn’t mind.

Growing up, not only had you heard the stories of horrid alphas from your parents, but you’d seen some of the behaviors yourself. You saw how they acted, especially around omegas, how they carried themselves, how they took pride in the emotions they evoked from unmated omegas. You would never forget when a girl in your class had presented during junior year at 16 years old, how the few alpha boys who’d presented early had reacted. How one of the teachers had even reacted…

A shiver ran over you as you recalled that day…how scared that girl had been…how completely unrestrained those alphas had acted… It was a miracle that some other teachers and the school nurse had gotten her off the school grounds unscathed. You knew they weren’t all like that. Even if you’d like to believe so, statistically speaking, they couldn’t all be like that. But enough of them were to scare you.

So when your parents had suggested locking you inside the house for God knows how long, you did not oppose. You were all too happy to stay inside…safe and independent as you possibly could be under the circumstances. However, everything changed when your father died.

It had only been a few months after he died when you experienced one of your heats…the worst you’d ever been through. You couldn’t even recall it, blocking most of it out due to the trauma and pain. You did recall how scared your mother had been though. How worried she had been that you would not make it, that what you normally did to get you through your heats was no longer working. Reluctantly, she began to accept that you would need an alpha after all.

You had begged for otherwise, crying even, and she had cried too, but you could see the genuine fear for your life in her eyes. You had brought up the idea of suppressants, but you had known her answer before she even opened her mouth. They had always been adamantly against them due to the side effects, side effects that you had never given a flying hoot about.

She was determined to find you a nice alpha who would treat you right, who could be trusted with your life and care. You had begged her to reconsider, and she had promised to think about it, but deep down, you knew that her mind was made up. It had taken you less than a day to take her card and buy a plane ticket to Norway. Another two to transfer as much money as you could into an account your parents had opened for you forever ago but had never used. The same day you packed a single bag was the same night you had snuck out to catch the flight.

You were in Norway an entire month before finding a man who sold suppressants. You’d bought as many as possible in bulk, fortune enough to get enough to last for half a year. You’d been in Norway for a year and had only ventured out to buy from him twice. He was a beta and American, and you wondered how much business he got. How many omegas had the same idea as you to hide in the rural land of a foreign country?

The thunder outside rumbled louder now, much louder, and you pulled yourself from the tub just as the kettle began to scream inside the house. You wrapped your towel around you before going to turn it off. It was then that the outside was lit up by lightning, but it flashed in such a way that startled you. You turned to look out of the window, the outside so bright that you could’ve mistaken it for day time.

You heard something hit the ground hard, bringing lightning with it as it struck the earth, shaking the cottage. It was dark again, but you could see a rather large shape prone on the ground outside of your cottage. Your brows furrowed, and you hurried to put on a t-shirt and some pajama bottoms. Hesitantly, you went to open the door, and you gasped as you realized the figure was a man.

Confusion tore through you, but you ran outside anyway. It was lightly raining now, dampening your clothes and hair as you neared him. His golden hair haloed around his head, facial hair consistent and tasteful, and for some reason, he was familiar to you in the darkness. You knelt beside him, looking him over. The only light was the faint light from inside your house that stretched from the window and open door.

You couldn’t see much, but he eventually groaned. He started to sit up, and you recoiled a bit, but he groaned in pain as he did so. He was clearly hurt, and considering you were sure he fell from the sky, that didn’t surprise you.

“Can you stand?”

He mumbled something, and you couldn’t make it out, but he attempted to stand anyway. You helped him up, and it was then, when you were so close, that you recognized him. Your eyes widened, and you rushed to get him inside. It was pouring now.

When you both stumbled inside, you were able to see that he was hurt…badly. Blood soaked the front of his shirt, some more on his arms and neck area, but it seemed that his stomach was the worst of it. Miraculously, you were able to help him to your bed, the queen-sized furniture looking much smaller with his large frame on it. He passed out almost as soon as his back hit the mattress.

You blinked, staring at him in both awe and fear. He was as large and imposing as you always thought he’d be, hair golden and features sharp. You reminded yourself that he was injured, and you struggled to get his shirt off. You recalled seeing him on the news a few times before you’d left, fighting alongside other heroes like Captain America and Iron-Man. You also recalled that he was an alpha.

As you cleaned him up, you also reminded yourself that he was a hero. That he was one of the good guys and his presentation did not negate that. The cut on his stomach wasn’t deep, he’d lost more blood than anything, but you still thought it needed to be stitched. The problem with that was you were in a small cottage practically in the middle of nowhere.

You had a first aid kit lying around and was able to stem the bleeding with some bandages. It would have to do until he woke up. It hadn’t fully hit you yet that a superhero, a god, was lying in your bed, injured. You didn’t know if he was hurt anywhere else, but you decided you weren’t going to check. You’d wait for him to wake. You simply stared at him for a while, unsure of what to do before deciding to sit down in the rocking chair in the corner.

Your emotions were at war with themselves, and you didn’t know how to proceed. This man was a stranger, an alpha at that, and that made you nervous. You couldn’t ignore the small twinge of fear you felt at being in his presence. Sure, you had been on suppressants for a year, but your paranoia couldn’t be helped. On the other hand, he was a hero, loved by all. He was meant to protect, and part of you thought you should feel safer with him in your house.

You didn’t know how long you stared at him, tense and afraid and confused, but you eventually felt your head lolling. The rain outside was soothing, and it calmed your nerves, relaxing you. You succumbed to some much-needed sleep.

You woke up to the sound of a loud deep groan. You stirred a bit, back aching as you moved, confusion filling you. You heard the sound again, and when you blinked your eyes open, it took a moment for your memory to return.

You had an Avenger in your bed.

You sat up as he finally stirred, eyes blinking open to stare up at the ceiling. You glanced outside to see that you’d both slept the night through. You were a bit surprised with yourself that you had grown relaxed enough around him to even fall asleep, let alone sleep so soundly. You winced when you stood, and the movement drew his attention to you. You froze when his bright eyes landed on you, but he didn’t look alarmed…or even worried for that matter.

Why would he? You weren’t a threat in the slightest and he clearly knew that.

“Where am I?” he wondered, pushing himself up to a sitting position.

You reached out before pulling your hands back, unsure if you should help him.

“You’re in Norway,” you answered. “Flekkefjord to be exact.”

His gaze descended, and you followed it to his stomach. The bandages you put over his stomach were lightly stained with blood, but you were relieved to see that you were right: the wound wasn’t that bad. He ran his hand over his abdomen before lifting his gaze to you.

“You bandaged me.”

His voice was deep, like it was full of thunder, and the low timber warmed your body in the way a blanket would. It was strange.

“You were bleeding. I didn’t check to see if you were hurt anywhere else,” you gestured to his bottom half. “I would let you do that when you woke up…”

He pressed his hand to his head, groaning again as he moved to stand. You jumped into action, reaching out to see if he needed help, but he gently waved you off. You swallowed as you eyed him, his large build making your already small cottage look miniscule. He looked around with a hum.

“You fell out of the sky,” you quietly began in case he couldn’t remember. “You almost hit my house…”

He looked at you again, face genuinely apologetic.

“I am sorry,” he apologized although there was no need. “I was…”

He trailed off, seeming to be thinking hard before he slowly rested his hands on his waist, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Loki,” he whispered, disdain and disappointment coloring his tone.

That name was not unfamiliar to you. It wasn’t unfamiliar to anyone who lived in New York for a time or kept up with the news. Your eyes widened, and Thor noticed.

“He will not come here,” he hurried to assure you. “I swear it, Lady…”

You blinked before answering him.

“Y/N,” you told him.

He eyed you for a moment, quickly running his eyes over your frame, and you swallowed under the scrutiny. His nostrils flared.

“Lady Y/N,” he eventually said, resting a hand on your shoulder.

A twinge of discomfort registered in your gut before you noticed him sway slightly. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm and the other on his back as you helped him turn around.

“I don’t think you should be standing.”

“Nonsense,” he chuckled, but sat down anyway. “I am feeling a bit faint is all. Loki did more damage than I initially thought he would.”

You helped him lean back against the headboard, ignoring his inquiring gaze.

“I cleaned the wounds, but if you want a proper bath I can leave for a while. I should probably go into town and get some things for you anyway. I don’t know how long it’ll take for you to fully heal, but it shouldn’t take any longer than a week or so.”

He hummed in agreement.

“You do not seem at all bothered that I fell out of the sky and into your lawn,” he acknowledged.

The corner of your lip curved upwards ever so slightly.

“I was more concerned with your wellbeing at first, but once I recognized you it suddenly made a lot more sense,” you replied.

“Yes, I seem to have a habit of falling out of the sky,” he murmured, sounding a bit annoyed by that.

You turned away from him.

“Let me run you a bath,” you said, nearing the tub. “…and then I’ll get some things from town.”

It didn’t take long for hot water to fill the bathtub, and you suddenly wondered how this giant of a god was going to fit inside. You almost wanted to stick around, sure it would be comical to witness, but truth be told you wanted to get away from him for a bit.

You threw on a jacket and some shoes, realizing that you wouldn’t be able to change into something more presentable, not with Thor here. You worriedly eyed him as you neared the door, and he waved you off.

“I will make it in and out of the bath just fine, Lady Y/N,” he told you.

You pursed your lips before nodding and leaving, feeling his inquiring gaze on you until you shut the door behind you.

“Your hands are divinely touched, Lady Y/N,” Thor praised.

You threw him a small smile, embarrassment heating your face at his compliment. You both were seated at the table, eating some soup you’d just made. You made sure it included plenty of meat. The blond Avenger had been recuperating at your house for a few days, and in that time, you’d learned quite a bit about him. Notably, that he loved to eat. Especially meat.

“It’s nothing special,” you quietly replied.

“You do that a lot,” he suddenly said.

You frowned at him, pausing in your movements.

“Do what?” you wondered.

“Downplay your talents. You did it the other day when I complimented you on your help with my wound,” he explained.

You didn’t know what to say to that, unaware that you were even doing it. Part of you recognized why though. His compliments and praises made you preen, the omega qualities in you that you’d suppressed for so long rearing their ugly heads. Aside from high school and the occasional passerby in town, you did not interact with alphas. Ever.

You liked his compliments, but you didn’t at the same time. They spoke to a part of you that you wished didn’t exist. Ever since he’d literally fallen into your life, you’d had to up your suppressant intake. You knew the dangers that lied with that, but you didn’t care. Besides, it wasn’t going to be a long-term thing. Just until he was fully healed…

“I hadn’t noticed,” you honestly told him.

You could feel his gaze on you, and when you looked up, you found his brows furrowed. There was that curiosity again, like he was trying to figure you out, and that put you on edge. It seemed like he was always trying to figure you out, eying you and sniffing around you when he thought you didn’t notice. You didn’t think he meant any harm by it, but it still bothered you. He was an alpha, and he couldn’t pick up a scent from you that told him your presentation. You knew that it put his nerves on edge. He’s a hero, a good guy. You had to remind yourself of that. You could trust him, and in a few days, he’d be gone anyway.

“You are all alone out here. Why? Where is your family?”

You set your spoon down.

“My father died some years ago. My mother and the rest of my relatives are back in the states. I just like the solitude,” you shrugged.

It was a lie, and you hoped that he could not tell. He continued to eye you with a hum.

“…but you are completely alone. Surely you get…lonely…”

Again, you shrugged.

“I like being alone,” you simply told him with a small smile.

He returned it, but it did not reach his eyes.

“I am almost healed. It just pains me to leave a fine lady such as yourself out here all alone,” he said.

“That’s sweet, Thor, but I’ve been here for a year now. I’m perfectly happy…and safe.”

You avoided his eyes as you continued eating. You didn’t like all of this questioning, it made you nervous, made your heart race and blood pump faster.

“How’s your stomach?” you asked him, changing the subject.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and you pretended not to notice.

“It is healing well. I shall help you with the bandages tonight,” he answered.

You stood, grabbing your bowl.

“Are you done?”

“I am,” he said with a grin, watching as you cleared his side of the table.

You heard him stand as you set the dishes in the sink.

“I shall step outside for a stroll. Work to get my strength back,” he told you.

“Okay,” you called over your shoulder, relief coursing through you when he exited.

He always stepped outside for a while so you could bathe. You were sure that he did enjoy being outside, exercising a bit to regain his health, but you also figured it was not needed. You were grateful he awarded you the privacy. It was also when you took the time to take your suppressants. You were downing them twice a day since he’d arrived, just to be on the safe side, and where as you would normally just take them in the early hours of the morning, you now had to sneak them in during the evening too.

The steaming water soothed you, took your mind off of your present worries for a while. You reminded yourself that they wouldn’t last for much longer. You also had to keep reminding yourself that Thor was one of the heroes. He wasn’t like the alphas your parents told you about…or those boys in high school… He was one of the good ones.

You didn’t linger in the water, and you quickly dried yourself after stepping out. You hurried to get dressed, rushing to grab your pills before Thor reentered. You had just swallowed it down with a glass of water when the door opened. You were nonchalant as you closed the bottle back, shooting him a small smile as you went to put them back into your cabinet.

“I’m feeling almost as good as new. Healthy as a horse,” he chuckled. “Tony said that once…”

You laughed with him. Despite your paranoia, Thor was very easy to get along with. He had such a kind easygoing nature, and it was why you were so inclined to trust him. You suddenly thought about something, something you hadn’t considered before, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Do you think they’re looking for you?” you kept your tone light.

He talked about the other Avengers quite often, and it definitely seemed like they would be searching for him. You didn’t need anyone else discovering you.

“More than likely,” he answered as you faced him with new bandages. “…but I shall not remain here for much longer. I shall soon be out of your hair, Lady Y/N.”

You threw him a crooked smile before looking away when he removed his shirt, sitting down.

“You can just call me Y/N. I’ve told you that,” you murmured as you approached him.

His chest shook as he laughed, and you swiftly removed the old bandage. You frowned a bit, noticing that he was practically healed. However, you were no doctor. Thor clearly must still be in some sort of pain and discomfort, so you moved to get some cream to rub over his stomach. You could feel his eyes on you.

“Are you ill, Lady Y/N?”

You briefly glanced up at him and found his gaze on you, blue eyes inquiring. There was something else there, hiding within the curiosity that you could not name.

“No, why do you ask?”

“I saw you ingesting some medicine just before I came in. I want to make sure that you are well…”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you kept your face neutral and voice light as you chuckled.

“It’s just for headaches. I get terrible migraines, and a few years ago it became severe enough where I was prescribed medicine for it. Nothing to worry about,” you told him with a soft smile.

He returned it when you caught his gaze, but again, it did not reach his eyes.

“There! All done,” you said.

He stood, and you stumbled back, unsure if you would ever get used to the sheer size of him. You watched as he began grabbing the blankets and some pillows.

“You really should sleep in the bed, you know,” you sighed. “I really don’t mind sleeping on the floor…”

“Nonsense! I am almost well. You are doing much for me already, the least I can do is let you have your bed,” he replied.

It was similar to what he’d said the third night when he insisted you take the bed. You exhaled in defeat, but eventually nodded. It was almost crazy how quickly you’d grown to be comfortable around the blond Avenger. You didn’t think the paranoia would ever go away, a product of your upbringing, but a good portion of you felt safe around him.

You slid into your bed with ease as he made himself comfortable on the floor beside you. The first two nights, you couldn’t even relax enough to go to sleep until he was, but your body sagged with fatigue as soon as you made yourself comfortable. Sleep claimed you almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Thor was awake before you when you finally stirred. The smell of bacon and eggs in the air took you by surprise, and you sat up with a confused smile. You didn’t even know he knew how to use the stove, but you were pleasantly surprised, nonetheless.

“Good morning, Lady Y/N,” he boomed.

“Morning,” you mumbled as you got out of bed.

“This is my show of gratitude for being such a hospitable host,” he said as you neared him. “Sit.”

The command shot straight through you, and you frowned at him, only briefly, but eventually you sat. A plate was sat before you not long after, and you eyed the food, stomach growling.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” you told him as he sat down across from you.

He threw you a playful wink, golden locks brushing his shoulders.

“There are a great many things you do not know of me.”

You chuckled before digging in. You glanced out of the window, noticing the clear sky.

“I believe I shall take my leave tomorrow,” he suddenly said.

You returned your gaze to him, somehow simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

“You’re feeling much better then…”

“I am. It is thanks to you,” he sincerely replied. “I would very much like to spend the day helping you. Whether it be going into town or in the garden.”

You smiled at him.

“Okay.”

The rest of breakfast passed in a comfortable silence. You were all too happy to admit that Thor cooked better than you did. It was enjoyable, and yet, you kept feeling like you were forgetting something. When Thor stood to clear the table, he lingered by your chair. You looked up when his hand landed on your shoulder. You tensed, but his thumb brushed over a place where your shoulder met your neck, and you instinctively relaxed.

“So which shall it be first?”

You were momentarily dazed, blinded by his grin before blinking.

“Uh…the m-market. I need more seeds,” you quietly told him.

He nodded and moved away. It took a moment for you to clear your head. Another to realize he’d eventually stepped out to allow you to get dressed. You did so quickly, still feeling a nagging in your mind that was trying to remind you of something very important.

Thor’s “disguise” in town merely consisted of a dark hoodie and some shades. He didn’t stray from you the entire time, and his constant presence brought out conflicting emotions in you. His hovering unnerved you, but something in your stomach fluttered every time his arm brushed along yours or he touched your shoulder with his hand.

He didn’t relent when you made it back to your cottage. His constant touches and praises were making your heart race. Thor was attractive, anyone could see that, and it wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed, but you found yourself eyeing him more than usual. You found yourself inhaling his scent at times. You didn’t understand where this had come from…until you were soaking in the hot water that night.

You sat up with a shock, water splashing as you stared at the wall in front of you with wide eyes. Your heart felt like it was going jump out of your throat as your eyes slowly trailed to your cabinet. Hurriedly you jumped out of the tub, almost tripping in the process. Water splashed everywhere as you wrapped the towel around you and ran to the cabinet.

Everything was suddenly making sense. You normally took them first thing in the morning, before Thor even woke up, but he’d woken up first this morning and it had slipped your mind. You surmised that your double dosages were the only thing keeping your body somewhat under control. You couldn’t believe that you had forgotten to take them this morning. You couldn’t believe that…they weren’t here.

Frantic, you pushed other bottles and glasses around, but your eyes weren’t playing tricks. They were gone. You heard the door open behind you, and your stomach dropped to your stomach. You spun around to find Thor leaning against the doorjamb, your pills in his hand. He turned them over, eyeing them as he let out a low hum.

“Do you know how dangerous these are?”

You didn’t know what to say, mouth opening and closing.

“Do you have any idea what these do to you?”

Anger coated his tone, and you couldn’t hold in the whimper that climbed out of your throat at his ire. His eyes met yours, and your lower back hit the sink.

“Thor,” you quietly pleaded, all of your parents’ warnings hitting you at once.

He stepped inside, and you flinched.

“I won’t expose you,” he murmured, and you didn’t know if you should be relieved or not. “I would never do that.”

His eyes softened, and your shoulders sagged. Your relief was short lived when he marched towards you though. Frightened, you stumbled away from him, only to realize too late what he was actually doing.

“No,” you cried as he poured them down the sink, reaching for his hand.

He caught yours in an iron grip, pulling you against him. Your lip trembled as he looked down his nose at you, inhaling. You felt warm, and you tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you.

“…but I don’t want you taking those anymore.”

You glared at him, and a low rumble sounded from within his chest, eating away at your annoyance. Your face fell, tears in your eyes before you eventually nodded. He was leaving tomorrow… After that, you could do whatever you want.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His jaw clenched, and one of his hands came up to rest in the crook of your neck, drawing patterns into the skin.

“Promise me…omega,” he softly said.

A shiver ran down your spine at the command…at what he’d called you. No one had ever referred to you as that before, and it made your stomach clench.

“I promise.”

His eyes narrowed, and for some reason he didn’t seem satisfied, but he relented. His hands landed on your bare shoulders, and you found yourself leaning towards him.

“Get dressed, omega, and get some rest.”

You watched as he left the cottage to give you privacy. Shaky, you eventually dressed yourself. No matter how hard you tried, your hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Thor knew…and he’d gotten rid of your suppressants. You were beyond terrified, but Thor said he wouldn’t out you. To be honest, you could get into a lot of trouble for what you had done, so you wanted to believe him.

It was quiet when he returned, the air tense. You nervously eyed him, and Thor noticed. He heaved a sigh, resting his hand on your head, stroking your hair. It was oddly relaxing.

“It is late, and you must rest. You are safe with me…”

His blue eyes met yours as you mulled over his words. In the days you’d known him, he had never once made you feel unsafe. So, against the odd feeling in your gut, you nodded and made your way to your bed. You could hear Thor gathering his own pillows and such as you made yourself comfortable.

It took you forever to fall asleep, heart racing at the knowledge that this alpha had found you out and gotten rid of your suppressants. That you were alone with him. He’s a hero, one of the good guys. You repeated that to yourself over and over again until you finally drifted into sleep.

It was sometime in the night when you were pulled from sleep. You didn’t know why, but you could faintly feel movement, the bed moving with it. You didn’t understand what was happening at first, not until you felt hands on you. You murmured incoherently, stirring, but your own movements were somewhat restricted. A heat surrounded you that wasn’t your own.

You felt…caged in.

You blinked, eyes fluttering open as your blurry vision finally cleared, colors and shapes separating to make up what was before you. You felt hot, much too hot to be considered normal. You moved again, leg dragging along the bed, but something prevented you from moving them completely. Your own eyes focused in on blue ones, and you gasped.

“Thor,” you mumbled, confusion and sleep still fogging your brain. “What…?”

He shushed you, and his lips brushed against your own. You couldn’t comprehend that your mouth was moving against his, tentatively…unsure. His lips were soft, pillowy even, and you absentmindedly wondered if kissing was always like this. It grew heated, his mouth pressing against yours, almost harshly, and that was when reality hit.

With a horrified yelp, you finally moved to shove against him. It was futile, and you knew this. Thor was a god, literally, and he had the physique of one. Tears kissed your eyes as he didn’t move, instead pressing himself against you more firmly. You protested against his lips.

“Thor-! Stop, stop,” you gasped.

His hands kneaded any part of you they could reach. You were crying now as he tore at your clothes, the sound of tearing fabric reaching your ears. This couldn’t be happening. He was one of the good ones…

“You’ve been poisoning yourself for a year,” he murmured, voice deep and pained.

You shivered beneath him when the cold air hit you, but he was quick to envelope you in his arms. It was then that you realized he was naked, had been since before you awoke it seemed. You felt like you were going to be sick, but that primal part of you, the one that your genetic makeup controlled, did not hold the same sentiments.

“I do not even want to imagine what you have done to your body…my little omega,” he whispered into the darkness.

You frantically shook your head at that, hitting against him now.

“Thor, p-please,” you begged, voice horse. “You said…you said I was safe with you.”

Your tone was accusatory, anger at both him and you filling you. Your parents had been right. They had always been right, and you had even seen it for yourself. Why did you allow yourself to trust him?

The moonlight shed some light into the cottage through the window, and you could see a frown on his handsome features.

“You are safe with me. I shall take care of you from now on…like you should have been cared for all this time,” he responded.

“No, no!”

You punched his chest, nails digging into his skin, and he hissed, eyes flashing dangerously. In one swift movement, he’d flipped you, pressing your chest into the mattress. One hand was pushing into your back while the other pinned one of your wrists down.

You cried harder when his legs made a home in between yours, spreading them apart. You could feel him hard and throbbing against the back of your thigh, and you shook beneath him. He gently shushed you, but it did no good.

You were growing hotter by the minute, and even though you hadn’t experienced one in over a year, you knew what was happening to you. You could feel yourself growing slick, your core hot and aching for only what an alpha could give you.

His lips grazed your cheek as he leaned over you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds. His chest vibrated against your back, soothing sounds leaving his lips, and you fought against the feeling that threatened to wash over you. You opened your mouth to plead with him, but the only thing that escaped your lips was a pained gasp as he thrust into you.

You whimpered, more tears falling over and nails digging into the pillows. You attempted to crawl away from the pain, away from him, but he followed, twitching inside of you as he did so. His blond hair kissed your cheek as he pressed his forearms into the bed beside your head, caging you in.

You couldn’t feel anything but him, smell anything but him. His presence was everywhere, and it was getting harder to resist your own instincts. You whimpered again as he started to move, fresh tears spilling over.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, my sweet omega.”

You shuddered, clenching around him, and he hissed. Your eyelashes fluttered, feeling as if you could feel him in your stomach. His thrusts were slow and purposeful, each pull of his cock pulling a whine from you. You pressed your forehead against the pillow, breath shallow and lips trembling as you fought between what you wanted and what your body wanted.

The bed began to shake as he started to speed up, and the intensity made you flinch, attempting to get away again. His other hand grabbed your other wrist, and he completely fell against you, rendering you immobile as he rutted into you. Unintelligible noises escaped you, and you realized that you could do nothing but lay there and take his cock.

The noises your slick core made in the quiet cottage embarrassed you, heat flooding your cheeks. Thor moaned above you, lost in the feel of your velvet walls clenching around him again and again. It was only when his teeth grazed along your throat did you start to struggle again.

“No, no,” you screamed, attempting to push your elbows against him.

He only shushed you in what was meant to be a soothing tone. Against your will, you could feel yourself beginning to shake, body seizing up in a way you had never experienced. It was in that moment did you feel his teeth sink into the skin of your neck, where it connected with your shoulder. You screamed again, the yell dying down into sobs as you felt a thin line of blood crawl down your skin. Even worse, you could feel him swelling inside of you.

You wanted to try and crawl away again, away from him and the pain, but you knew how stupid that would be with Thor knotted inside of you. You were practically hysterical now, chest heaving and vision blurry as he remained inside of you. He finally pulled his face away, and you couldn’t hold in the whimper. He ran his tongue over your neck, humming.

Sleep crawled along the peripheral of your mind, and you didn’t know whether to fight against it or accept it with open arms. You didn’t know whether you wanted to fight to get away or give up and come to terms with your new harsh reality. The latter was starting to win.

“I shall have to get Bruce to look over you and make sure you did not do permanent damage to yourself,” he murmured against your skin.

You groaned in response, both the physical and mental assault taking a toll on you.

“Your little cottage shall remain here. We can come to visit and vacation from time to time. I shall want to bask in these memories in the future…”

“Thor,” you pleaded, still unable to move with him inside of you.

“…I am your alpha now. No more of that vile poison and no more fending for yourself. You belong to me now.”

You felt yourself drifting, blinking at the wall, and his lips brushed against yours.

“I shall take care of you as you took care of me.”

tags: @nerdygirl8203 @xoxabs88xox @mcudarklibrary @darkficreposter @villanellevi @readermia @notyourtypicalrose @nickyl316h @opheliadawnwalker3 @ne-gans @

#mcudarklibrarykinkmonth #dark!thor #dark!thor x reader #dark fic #marvel fanfiction #a/b/o #A/B/O verse #alpha!thor

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demibats · 4 years ago

Text

Unsteady - BENEATH THE BLOOD MOON

summary: Bludhaven and Gotham take a fearful turn when a new threat is posed in both Batman and Nightwing’s territories, neither of them equipped for it. That is, until Dick crosses paths with an unlikely new ally...

word count: 4k warnings: brief mention of violence.

A cool breeze ruffled Dick’s hair as he looked over the city of Bludhaven, way up on the tops of the buildings. He’d been hunched over, listening intently on his police scanner for far too long. It was too quiet of a night. Not even the common street criminal was causing a disturbance. The silence was far more vexing than any goon he’d come into contact with over the past week.

Dick tried not to let the little noises pester his paranoia further, though it was hard. The sound of an animal rustling in a garbage can or a car’s horn was enough to make him jump. Dick stood, taking in a deep breath before he flipped from one roof ledge to a lower one. Landing with a hard thud, he turned over his back, eyeing the spot he’d just left and the gap below. Below, consumed in the darkness, he swore he heard voices.

Dick turned and peaked down, seeing nothing in the bleak emptiness between crumbling buildings. He continued his typical patrol around the tops of the buildings, looking over the city. It was the first night in months that not a thing gave him a good chase. While he felt like he deserved a break, the sudden change in activity felt odd. It was as if an entire world of crime just stood at a stand still, completely unmoving as Dick traveled the rooftops of Bludhaven.

Faintly, Dick heard a grunt and blows landing. It was quiet, but Dick’s trained ears focused on it and could make out a cocky ‘that all you got?’ He did a front somersault off the ledge and slid down the opposite wall, skillfully as to not disturb the others in the alleyway. He turned on his heels and crouched down behind a rusty dumpster, peeking his head out to survey the scene.

A woman was facing with her back toward him, striking whatever was in front of her with her palm, upward into her attacker’s nose. Jesus Chirst, Dick thought, usually now is the time I have to come in. She spun around and delivered what should’ve been a near-fatal kick into the attacker’s ribs, but he only stumbled before throwing his hand into the woman’s head. She took barely a second to steady herself before grabbing her attacker’s next hit by the wrist to twist it upward. At an impressive speed, she unsheathed what looked like a wooden stake and plunged it into the chest of her attacker. Dick caught a glimpse of the man’s face, seeing it contorted and molded with yellow eyes before it burst into dust.

He was in awe. Of all the metahumans and villains he’s faced throughout his entire life, he’d never come across something quite like that. Maybe he’d read about them but seeing one perish in person was an entirely new ballgame. He stood up from his spot, stepping out from behind it, but didn’t trek toward the woman. She was relatively new and, to be frank, scary. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that maybe now isn’t the time to ask questions?” Dick spoke clearly, despite being unsure of this new vigilante, if that’s what she was.

She flinched at his loud voice and whipped around, fists clenched. When her eyes laid on him, her mouth dropped, but her shock didn’t last long and was soon replaced with some form of annoyance, “Nightwing, is it? A little birdie told me to watch out for you. Well, another little birdie.” She said, poking fun at his alter ego.

“In the way that we’d be brawling like your little friend or just as a precaution?” Dick quipped.

“Neither. Just a piece of information I needed to have before I moved here.” Her shoulders relaxed as she walked toward him, “We done here?” Her shoulder bumped into his and which only spurred Dick’s talking on more.

Before he could get a word in, she said, “You were watching for a while before I dusted that creep. Is it a part of the job to leave capable dames to their own devices now? I definitely could’ve used the help.” Her tone was sarcastic, Dick couldn’t tell if she meant it, or was just annoyed simply by his presence.

Dick blinked a few times before answering, “I have no idea what that was. Or what or who you are. I was a little taken aback, needed time to plan my next move.” he responded, following her out of the alley.

She stopped in her tracks and turned around, narrowing her eyes on him. She examined his face for a moment and Dick grew anxious that she was trying to figure out his identity for a split second. Shaking off the uneasy feeling, he furrowed his eyebrows. “You really have no idea what I just killed?”

The fact she’d said ‘what’ instead of ‘who’ returned the uneasy feeling, but this one was different, “No, I don’t. Mind telling me? This seems like crucial information I should’ve known when I moved here.” He mocked, but the woman could only smirk at it.

“It was a vampire. Like, a genuine dracula. Blood-sucking demon of the night, fangs and all. There have been sightings and nests popping in Atlantic City, Gotham and Bludhaven more and more recently.” She explained, continuing her walk down the empty street. Dick didn’t realize he was supposed to follow her.

He jogged up to her, slowing down and matching speeds with her pace. Dick never walked through the neighborhoods at night, too busy flipping from the rooftops to realize how things looked down here at night. Gazing at the woman through his peripherals, he sucked in a breath, “And you’re.. What? Just doing a public service by driving stakes through their hearts?” he asked, question after question popping into his head. If she was a civilian, where’d she learn how to fight and defend herself like that? Why was she absorbing blows that should’ve knocked her on her ass? How did she know all this? Especially that these supposed nests were in Bludhaven?

“I’m the Slayer. It’s my destiny, or whatever, to hunt them down and send ‘em back to hell.” She clarified, sounding less than enthused.

Dick chuckled, “Whoa there, try to contain your excitement.”

Rolling her eyes, she picked up speed, wanting to shake the nuisance that was Nightwing, “Look, I’ll go my way, you’ll go yours. There’s no need to be all buddy-buddy. I’ll kick vampire ass, you’ll beat down criminals, simple as that.”

Dick stopped on their walk, grabbing her wrist just for her to rip it from his clutches, “Would you listen for one goddamn second?” he raised his voice, surprising her, “If these creatures are as dangerous as I’m thinking, and to the extent you said, you’ll need help. This doesn’t sound like much of a cakewalk. I’m not an idiot who wears a mask and punches cat-buglers, okay? There are more important skills than brute strength, ones I have, that could help you.”

He could tell she was considering it. It took only a few seconds for her to answer, “This isn’t something that’s a team effort. I’m the slayer, and whether I like it or not, I have to do this on my own.”

Dick let her go off on her way this time. He couldn’t wrap her head around the events of that night, especially not the fact that Bludhaven and Gotham, his home and former home, were riddled with creatures like the one she’d just fought. Grotesque, monstrous creatures that were preying on the innocent the way that they were. He feared for the citizens of Bludhaven, knowing that he might not be able to protect them from the vampires he knew nothing about. Sighing heavily, he took out his phone and dialed a number he hadn’t saved but could recite from heart at any given time. It only rang once before a familiar voice spoke. “Master Dick, it’s been too long.” Alfred chimed.

“I miss you too, Alfred. Tell him I’m driving up. There’s something brewing in both our cities and we might need all hands on deck for this,” he paused, “I’m gonna send you some information of my current location, can you please use the cameras in the area for facial recognition for the woman I was with tonight?”

“I’ll hop to it, Master Dick. I’ll let him know, as well and make preparations for your sleeping arrangements.” Alfred spoke in his typical calm and calculating, yet stern tone.

“I’ll get a motel, just tell Bru-”

Alfred cut him off, “I’m afraid not, Master Dick. You will be staying in the manor and there’ll be no arguments made against it. The facial recognition you requested will be done within the hour.”

Rolling his eyes, Dick smiled, “Yeah, alright. See you soon, Alfred. Thank you.” And with that, Dick ended the call, inhaling sharply. His night just became a lot more eventful than he could’ve ever guessed.

“Fuck.”

-----

Dick pulled into the long stretch of driveway through the gates, his tongue running over his teeth. It’d been some time since he’d been home and it still felt cold and distant. He didn’t plan on staying too long, but would stay as long as needed to research and learn about any lore pertaining to vampires and ‘The Slayer’. Bruce had more money than God and enough books to educate a small community, some of those might even be older than God.

The sprawling grounds of Wayne Manor, while being the apple of any remotely smart person’s eye, made Dick feel more alone than he ever had. However, he did what he learned as a child, and pushed those feelings down, trying to focus on the task at hand. After stepping out of his car, now parked in the garage, he met up with Alfred. That old rascal always brought a smile to Dick’s face, even after the time he’d seen him. “Nice to see you, Master Dick. Master Wayne is waiting for you. The facial recognition was successful.”

Dick couldn’t help but grin at the butler before clapping him on the shoulder, “Thanks, Alfred. I owe you one!” He shouted as he booked it toward the indoor entrance to the cave.

The manor was always remarkably clean, thanks to Alfred ( and sometimes Bruce ) . With Alfred’s older age, you would think that he was ready to give up the butler life, but there was no way he would, not while Bruce was running rampant in the streets wearing a cape and cowl. Dick waited patiently in the elevator ride down, his hands fidgeting at his sides. He shoved them into his jean-pockets as the door opened, revealing the dimly lit cave.

Bruce was standing before the bat computer, pictures and records up on the large screen. He was hunched over the tabletop in front of him, rather than sitting in the chair. He wore a black tshirt and dark jeans, rather than the full form of the batsuit or head-to-toe formal wear. Bruce heard Dick’s footsteps and straightened his back, turning toward the younger man. “You look different,” Bruce said in monotone.

Dick chuckled, “Yeah, living on your own does that, I guess.” He knew that Bruce wasn’t one for physical affection but that didn’t stop Dick from giving him a brief hug, which to his surprise, Bruce reciprocated for the short while it happened.

“So, did you pin-point our mystery girl?” Dick said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, eyeing Bruce as he pulled up what looked like an ID photo.

“Y/N L/N. Goes to a community college in Bludhaven, lives alone. She previously lived in Chicago, graduated from high school, got accepted into a community college there, held a steady job, but moved here after her mother was killed eight months ago. Coroner’s report says animal attack but given the information you sent, I’m guessing that whatever she fought off last night is one of the things responsible for the murder of her mother. Who is she to you, Dick?” Bruce slowly turned to face Dick, raising his eyebrows in curiosity.

Dick shrugged, “I’m interested in her line of work.” He said, but Bruce knew exactly what Dick wasn’t saying. He let it slide, obviously not wanting to open that can of worms.

“I’ve pulled up every known instance of vampires over the past twenty years and… a lot of it is complete nonsense, Dick. Very slim picking of what compares to Y/N’s vampires. Something about Twilight-” Bruce was about to continue but Dick cut him off.

“Steer clear of anything marked under that, you won’t get anywhere.” Dick turned away from the computer and walked toward the dark oak bookshelf away from where Bruce stood.

“And where are you going?” Bruce asked.

Dick turned over his shoulder as he walked, “There has gotta be something in one of your dusty old books that’s more helpful than you skimming teenage fanlore.” He chuckled, eyes running over the spines of all the books. He didn’t have too much to go on, but anything would help them at that moment.

Bruce and Dick spent hours researching vampire lore, hoping something would point them in the direction of some sort of slayer prophecy. Of course, it would’ve been much easier if Y/N complied with Dick in the first place, but she was dead set on avoiding Nightwing like the plague. While Bruce appreciated literature, he knew how to find needed information on the web better than anything else. It bothered him that he wasn’t coming up with much, but he’d never tell Dick that.

“Any luck?” Bruce called out.

“Not on the slayer, but this volume and the one like it talks all about what they are and the lore behind them,” he paused for a moment, then realized Bruce was waiting for him to continue, “They’re essentially demons, soulless creatures from Hell. They can only inhabit earth if they possess a human corpse. Apparently they’re considered hybrids, less pure than other demon species.”

Dick looked up from the pages of the worn book, seeing Bruce look absolutely lost in thought. He cleared his throat, hoping he’d have some sort of feedback. “What are they doing in Bludhaven?” Bruce asked.

“Add that to the pile of answers we don’t have.” Dick huffed.

The two men were up into the early hours of the morning, almost 5AM before Dick had a breakthrough in one of the thousands of books in the cave. “Here!” he called out, getting Bruce’s attention. The older man quickly made his way to the table that Dick had been hunched over, reading and researching.

“Every generation, one girl is chosen to be the Slayer. She wields the power to fight demons, vampires and other forces of darkness. Apparently the first slayer actually had the gifts of a vampire given to her by said vampire.” Dick read.

Bruce was silent.

“Are you going to say anything? We’ve been at this for hours and I finally find something and you’re a statue.” Dick was annoyed and tired and beyond ready to burn every book in the manor and then go right to sleep.

“That’s just it, Dick. We’ve been at this the entire night and all we’ve learned is that some otherworldly force picks a woman to fight the undead. We’re still at square one in my book. Get some sleep, we’ll regroup and pick it up again after some rest.” Bruce said, turning to shut down the computer.

Dick grumbled, gathering up all the books he hadn’t read through, along with the one who explained who the Slayer was, and went to his old bedroom. He would probably only get a few hours of sleep before he would be up and at it again. He needed to find more out before going back to Bludhaven to find her again. He wanted to be prepared, knowledgeable. Dick knew that there was no way Y/N would let him help if she had to teach him all there was to know about vampires. He still didn’t know if she could be swayed even if he had already learned.

As soon as Dick hit the mattress, books surrounding him, he was out like a light. He hadn’t pushed himself to the extreme of staying up over 24 hours in a long time and he felt like he would go insane from lack of sleep. That first night back at Wayne Manor, Dick had nightmares. He was in his Nightwing suit, except for his mask, standing in an alleyway that seemed like it went on infinitely on both ends. He tried to run one direction but felt like he was getting nowhere. On all sides of him he heard someone crying out for help and a hiss that felt too familiar. The cries continued as did the hisses for what seemed like mere minutes, but when Dick opened his eyes, he’d realized it was nearly three o’clock.

He felt like he’d been hit by a semi-truck, or maybe a large pick-up at the least. There was a cup of coffee next to his bed on his nightstand, still steaming. After all these years, ALfred had a knack for knowing when his boys would be awake. Dick grabbed it sluggishly and took a small sip as he sat up. The room was still and quiet, while he enjoyed the peace, sometimes it was deafening. After he’d downed most of the coffee, he pulled his shirt off and headed to the shower.

-----

“Let’s just say that she does allow you to work with her, will you keep me informed?” Bruce posed the question as Dick looked over yet again, another book. He peaked over the pages of the book he was reading, lips on the rim of his coffee mug.

Bruce looked like he’d gotten enough sleep for the both of them, had his healthy breakfast and already did his eight mile run. It was appalling how easy it was for Bruce to hide his fatigue, while Dick, Jason and Tim had always looked tired, constantly.

“If what she said is true, that Gotham as well as Bludhaven, has these nests, then yes. You’ll need to stay in the loop and be hypervigilant during patrol. These things are no joke, Bruce.” Dick answered, “Mind if I take the books with me back home? I’ll scan over any information I deem important.”

Bruce nodded, but before Dick could exit the kitchen to pack up his belongings, the older man called out, “Be careful.” Bruce might not express his fondness or affection for his son, but he knows that Dick knows exactly what his simple words mean.

Dick turned back and nodded. “You too.”

The drive back to Bludhaven was tense. Dick knew he’d have to betray what little trust he’d managed to create the first night he met Y/N by essentially breaking into her apartment. He fought with himself mentally about his next move. He still had research and planning to do if was going to seriously enter this world. He was too stubborn to just let Y/N tell him no. He didn’t care if it was her destiny to battle these things alone. He was going to make sure she wasn’t on her own and that he upheld his oath to protect Bludhaven.

Within the wall of his Bludhaven apartment, he stood in the kitchen, unmoved as he pondered his options. There weren’t many. It was either he’d help Y/N and go to her apartment, maybe get his ass kicked if she was startled or not help her and go about his regular vigilante activities. It shouldn’t even be a question. Dick tried to put his impulsivity aside, tried to think before jumping immediately into this unprepared. Y/N told him to stay out of it, he should respect that. But what if it becomes too much for her to handle on her own? Wouldn’t she rather have an ally? Someone to depend on? There had to be a reason why she was so harsh about it.

A million more questions spurred Dick’s thoughts on, but in the end, he decided he’d rather have her be pissed off at him interfering with the slayer business than her, laying in an alleyway, dead because of some demon. He’d set out to find her before it got dark, he didn’t want to risk getting a wooden stake to the torso because she couldn’t see the black and blue suit.

He donned the Nightwing garb as he seemingly flew over the rooftops, cartwheeling, backhandspringing, flipping, somersaulting all over the ledges and landings to get to her apartment which was about ten blocks from his own. From the roof of a building opposite to her apartment complex, he could see into her living room through a window. The curtains were parted and the soft lighting illuminated Y/N on her couch, a bowl of cereal in her hands and a textbook in her lap. The domestic scene almost completely masked her slayer personality. She simply was a college student, trying her hardest to be normal, plagued with the responsibility of protecting innocent life.

Dick slid down onto the fire escape below him before leaping to one on Y/N’s building, careful not to cause any reason for a passerby to look up and see him. Perched on her fire escape, he carefully knocked on the glass of the window. She nearly jumped ten feet in the air, almost spilling her cereal. Looking over to her window, her expression showed pure confusion. Dick was surprised, he expected blind rage.

Getting off the couch, Y/N placed her cereal and textbook on her coffee table before storming over to the window, sliding it open. “What the hell? Are you stalking me now?” She whisper-shouted.

Dick shook his head, “No, no. It seems like that but I promise that’s not the case.”

Y/N sighed deeply, clearly unamused. She remained silent, crossing her arms as she stepped out of the way of the window frame, “Come on in.”

Dick slowly climbed into her apartment, hunched over for a brief moment before standing tall, scanning the room. It was simple and neat. She had multiple potted succulents and a few framed photos on the wall. She had a couch and a bean bag in her living room as well as a small tv stand and coffee table, which looked to be covered in books and paperwork. It wasn’t at all what he’d expected it to be like.

Before he got lost in thought about her apartment decor, he turned to her, “I read about the vampires and slayer lore. We didn’t have much to go by, but I found out the basics.” Dick could tell she was on the verge of interrupting, “Let me finish. I know that it’s your so called destiny to do this on your own, but I say fuck that. I want to help and technically speaking, if I’m not working with you, I’d just be hunting them down on my own. We can work together. Two minds are greater than one. You don’t have to babysit or coddle me, I get the gist of what you’re up against. Let me lighten the load. If you don’t like working together after some time, I’ll hit the road. Just give me a chance to show you I can be worth your while.”

Inhaling sharply, still with her arms crossed she spoke finally, “You’re not gonna leave me alone are you?”

Dick grinned, “Couldn’t get rid of me if ya tried.”

Feeling defeat sink in, Y/N rolled her eyes and walked back over to her couch and coffee table, resuming her spot where she was studying. “The second you get on my nerves, I’m kicking your ass.” She said, not a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

“I won’t. Scout’s honor.” he did the hand salute thing before taking a seat next to her on the couch.

Once more, she rolled her eyes and felt the weight of her decision start to sink in.

#nightwing x reader #nightwing #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fic #nightwing fic #dc #batman #batboys #batfamily #red hood #red robin #tim drake #jason todd #robin #nightwing x y/n #nightwing reader insert #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson reader insert

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pitviperofdoom · 4 years ago

Note

I really liked your 'Life Preserver' excerpt and I'd love to read more about it. I liked the interaction between Gerry and Georgie, their characterization and Gerry's description of his relationship with Jon, plus this exchange: “He thinks your mum’s a homophobe, you know.”“You know, he’s probably right? Think she might just hate the idea of love in general, though.”“Messy divorce, I take it,”“Rohypnol and garden shears were involved, so yeah, I’d say it was pretty messy.”

Thanks!

Yeah, Gerry and Georgie surprised me as a really interesting dynamic to explore. In spite of Georgie’s caution around the Entities, Gerry just feels like the kind of person Georgie would get along with, given the people she canonically ends up loving.

Anyway here’s another part I’ve written! This one actually has Jon and Gerry in it.

---

When Jon went in for his next shift, things went smoothly enough to be genuinely suspicious. Tina was his desk partner again, and she greeted him with the same cordiality as always. No one official-looking ever came by to speak with him.

The only hint that anything had happened that night was a campus-wide e-mail paying respects to Daniel Lattimer, one of the subject librarians, who was reported as having “passed unexpectedly”. The message held all of the usual official platitudes and nothing else; Jon had read it word for word several times to be sure.

Someone should have known, shouldn’t they? It wasn’t as if he had been careful about covering his tracks, beyond making his tip anonymous. The library had cameras. He was sure he’d left at least a few shoe prints in all the blood.

But nothing came of it. The first hour passed peacefully, with nothing more exciting than a couple of patrons he had to inform of overdue books.

Jon spotted the familiar dark figure out of the corner of his eye, even before Tina hissed a warning at him. He raised his head to watch Gerard Keay’s approach, chest suddenly tight with nervousness.

How on earth was he supposed to explain this?

“Hey.” Gerard was in front of him already, leaning his elbows on the desk as usual. “Any word on that book? I tried to come in yesterday, but you were closed.”

“R-right.” Jon hesitated. There were several ways he could answer this. He could, of course, be utterly truthful and tell him that he’d burned the thing on account of it being made of meat and killing one of the librarians. He almost laughed at the thought. At worst, Gerard would complain to someone about Jon being unhelpful; at best, he’d find it funny, but he’d demand a real answer once he was done laughing about it.

He could lie and stall by saying that the book was still on its way. But that was a temporary fix at best, and it would only lead Gerard to keep coming in and asking.

And would that really be so bad? Jon shook his head to clear away the thought.

“Right,” he said again. “A-about that. Unfortunately—” He slipped his bandaged hand behind the desk, out of sight. “—we were unable to find the book in storage. It seems to have been marked incorrectly. It happens sometimes. Though not very often, I assure you,” he added hastily. “But it’s been marked down as missing, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” Gerard’s face was the very picture of disappointment. “That’s a shame. Really did need that one.”

“Terribly sorry for the inconvenience.” Jon tried to sound like he meant it.

It was hard to force down the sheer, overwhelming relief. Just last night he’d regretted his own paranoia, but now? If he hadn’t gone back, if he hadn’t checked for the book…

Well, the library might not have been closed yesterday. And he didn’t have the first shift at the circulation desk. And whoever did might have been someone who didn’t know, someone who wasn’t haunted by the name Jurgen Leitner, who might have taken the book from the cart and handed it straight over—

The unwelcome memory of Mr. Lattimer’s body rose up behind his eyes, juxtaposed over the young man standing before him.

As a child, he’d doomed someone else to a gruesome death that should have been his. So maybe this time… maybe he’d actually…

“Well then,” said Gerard, shaking him out of his bubble of thoughts. “Guess that’s—er, guess I’ll look elsewhere…”

“Right,” said Jon. “Unless there was anything else you needed…?” He tried not to sound too hopeful.

“No, thanks, that’s it,” said Gerard, already turning away. “Thanks for all the help.”

“Oh, I hardly—I mean, I didn’t really do much, in the end.”

Gerard regarded him for a moment, head tilted to one side with a thoughtful look. Then, quite without warning, he smiled at him. “Don’t sell yourself short. You were great.”

“O-of course,” Jon stammered as Gerard turned to leave again. “Oh, wait—wait a moment.”

Gerard looked back. “Yeah?”

Jon dug into his pocket, pulling out the lighter. “Is this yours?” he asked, placing it on the desk. “I found it on one of the tables in the reading room, and I remembered you had it the other day…”

Instead of taking it, Gerard simply flashed him one last grin. “Keep it,” he said. “I’ve got loads.”

“It’s really not good to keep ignition sources in a library,” Jon protested, feeling inordinately flustered.

Gerard laughed, a brief, bright thing, and—

“D’you want to get coffee?” Jon blurted out.

The smile froze on Gerard’s face, before giving way to surprise. “What?”

A stab of terror nearly robbed Jon of his words, before he found his voice again and forged ahead. “Do you—I mean. Do you want to get coffee sometime?” he repeated. Shit. Shit, he was doing this, how was he already doing this? “With me?” He wanted to kick himself, of course he’d know he meant it that way. “I—my shift ends at noon today. If you’re free. I-if you want to, I mean.”

Gerard blinked at him, so utterly bewildered that it might have been funny if Jon’s heart weren’t currently climbing into his throat. “You—wait. Is this… are you asking me on a date?”

He said it so incredulously, as if the idea that Jon would ask him on a date were utterly incomprehensible to him. Rapidly, Jon’s heart sank back down.

“Yes,” Tina leapt in helpfully. “He is. Aren’t you, Jon?”

She nudged him none too gently. “Y-yes,” he said, because it wasn’t as if he could dig himself any deeper. “That—that was the intention.”

“Huh.” Gerard shrugged. “Sure.”

The whiplash made Jon dizzy for a moment. “Really?”

“Yeah. Noon, right? See you then.” With that, he turned and walked out of the library.

Once he was out of sight, Jon slumped over onto the surface of the desk like a marionette with its strings cut.

Tina patted his back. “Proud of you. Go get that goth D.”

***

It wasn’t that Gerry didn’t know it was a terrible idea—just that he’d had worse ones before. He was still breathing after years of them, in fact. So what was one more?

Jon the librarian was far from the first scarred survivor he’d ever met. They weren’t common, precisely, but nor were they unheard of. Technically he was one, and Mum had been as well, before she carved herself up.

But Gerry knew he was an outlier, and as rare as surviving one brush with the Fears was, meeting two of the things and escaping uneaten from both was on a level of its own. But against all odds, when he looked at the wispy little librarian who’d spent the past week being so divertingly helpful, Gerry could see two separate, distinct marks on him, where there had previously been only one. And they really were distinct from one another. The Flesh was like a shark sometimes, content to take one good bite before losing interest and wandering off, while the wisps of the Web still clung jealously. A scar like that could have been left years ago or the day before they met. You could never tell with the Web.

That added to the risk, of course. For all he knew, this was some ploy from the Mother of Puppets to catch him and draw him in. A little cliche, maybe, but Gerry couldn’t fault it for its efficacy.

He’d said yes, after all.

In his defense, it wasn’t every day he met someone with a nice face, a taste for burning Leitners, and enough luck or fortitude to walk away from two different Powers. Nor was it every day a person like that asked him to… well…

People didn’t flirt with him, was the thing. Anyone who knew enough to be worth talking to either wised up and ran the other way, or turned around and tried to take a chunk out of him.

So, yeah. Might as well give it a shot. See what it was like, while he had the chance.

He had til noon to brace himself, anyway. Not enough time to go back to Mum’s and freshen up, which was a shame. She’d just faded out a couple of days ago, so he knew he’d have the place to himself.

Ah, well.

In spite of himself, Gerry found himself turning his face upward with a grin and an excited spring in his step. It’d be a bit like traveling abroad, or visiting tourist traps, or all the other things he indulged in when Mum was gone. See as much of the world beyond his own as he could, before she finally fucked up and got him killed.

A date! Who’d have thought he’d get to check that one off the bucket list?

#tma fic #jongerry #jonathan sims #gerard keay #safe harbor au #tales from the pit #lady-with-a-deathwish

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years ago

Text

Puppet Strings. Yan Ghost Josuke x Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Josuke’s temper flaring, typical yandere elements, brief alcohol mention. Word count: 3.1k

You didn’t think much of it when you saw your window wide open.

No, it wasn’t that particular moment that sent alarm bells ringing. It’s remarkable what the human mind is capable of scrounging up to justify an otherwise horrifying situation. Moving from one place to another is an exhausting effort -- you reasoned to yourself -- maybe you reopened it and forgot. That sounds perfectly plausible. Sleep came easily to you that night and all was forgotten the next morning. There were some other minor occurrences, cabinets being open, the television flickering. Nothing incriminating, nothing to worry about.

For a time, this logic worked in your best interest. The last straw was when your personal belongings started going missing. Lip glosses, shirts, and even some sketchbooks. Contacting the police served to be no help. When they asked who could hold a vendetta against you, you had no solid leads. You’d only been in Morioh a little over a month. Earning an adversary in that short a time felt unlikely, if not impossible. Classmates were interviewed, their alibis clearing them of possible suspects, the investigation stagnant. Your neighbors hadn’t seen questionable figures lurking around your home. Days went by, and a few patrols later, the police claimed there wasn’t much else they could do. There were no signs of breaking and entering, no fingerprints, no leads.

No peace of mind.

You’ve explored every logical avenue. Not knowing what to do next is the worst part, it’s what serves to frustrate you the most. Sighing, you dry your hands off, mulling over what to do next. Now that you’ve finished washing the dishes, there are no other chores to procrastinate with. Guess I better get started on that project, you think. God, but it’s so hard to focus anymore.

Without noticing it, you felt drawn to the living room. Anyone would understand, that from the stress you’ve suffered, it’s fine to take a break. A distraction from reality sounds great right about now. Your PlayStation 2, which has been collecting dust, can finally get used. The multiplayer games are bugged -- a Player 2 shows up even when you play it with yourself -- so you haven’t used it in some time. Scanning over the various game choices, you never get a chance to pick one out.

“Huh, so they released a sequel to that?” An unknown voice, masculine and lighthearted, chimes in behind you. Your immediate reaction is to whip your head back, searching for the source. Heart pounding, you realize this is exactly what you feared. That whoever was stalking you would eventually come to settle things for seeking help from law enforcement. You don’t see him, even though the voice had been close enough to assume he’s behind you. There’s no way you imagined it. Where is he?

That’s when you see him.

Whether or not it was intentional, he stands blocking your path to the kitchen, where your phone is. A young man of imposing size, easily dwarfing you. His style throws you off, it’s like he was ripped from another time. That hair… a pompadour? Narrowing your eyes, you stand from your kneeling position, preparing to hold your ground. He might be blocking your ability to call the police, but there’s still the option of running out the front door to alert your neighbors. It’ll be fine, you tell yourself, not entirely convinced. Just don’t panic.

“Who are you?” Is the first question that slips past your lips. There’s unfiltered hostility in the words, despite your hesitation to aggravate him. Your eyebrows furrow when he puts his hands up in defense. It gives an impression of mockery in an otherwise grave scenario.

“Woah, calm down there,” he lets out a nervous chuckle that further irks you. “You can call me Higashikata Josuke.”

This person -- Josuke -- is acting too casual about this. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s the source of your torment these past few weeks. How else could he be standing in your home, acting in such a deplorable manner? For your own best interest, you bite your tongue, that’s dying to hurl numerous insults his way. In contrast to his polite speech, he’s dressed like a stereotypical delinquent. Who knows what Josuke would do should you provoke him. You’ve heard rumors of rambunctious youths in the area and don’t want to test the validity of those claims.

“Alright, Higashikata-san, I’m going to ask you to leave. This is my house. If you just… leave me alone, I won’t contact the police. Alright?” You feel like your proposal is a considerate one, even if you don’t intend to follow through. Once you get to safety, like hell you’re going to let this punk get away with it, he just doesn’t need to know that yet. Josuke shifts weight from one leg to another, contemplating your words.

“I can’t do that. Besides, the same way you feel this is your house, I equally feel like it’s mine.” Josuke replies, scratching his cheek. His tone almost sounds… apologetic. As if it isn’t completely within his control to leave. You gulp when you realize your approach might not work. Maybe he’s not mentally sound? That’s the most plausible solution. Taking a deep breath, you shift to a less combative posture, still hoping to talk him down.

“Is there someone I could call? A guardian, a friend? Let’s figure this out.” You will yourself to keep each word steady to lure him in. The innocent inquiry doesn’t have the intended effect, Josuke frowning as soon as the word guardian left your lips. Shit. Was that a sensitive topic? The scowl is gone in a split second like it never existed. He takes a step closer to you and you take a step back.

“There’s not much to figure out. I’ll be honest then since I’m sure you’re freaking out right now. Which makes sense. I’d be freaking out too…” he trails off, going deep into thought. Finally, Josuke manages to choose the proper words. “How do I go about this? Alright, I’ll just come out and say it.”

“Well, to put it in simple terms, I’m dead.”

You blink. Tilting your head, you conclude that this Higashikata Josuke is not mentally well. Getting in contact with a professional is your new top priority. Josuke picks up on your hesitant body language and rushes to give credence to his claim.

“I know, crazy, isn’t it? I’m sorry about your stuff, by the way. Felt like the best way to understand my new housemate without sending you running right away. I’ll return it now,” Josuke’s demeanor doesn’t give you the impression of a liar. Still, a spirit? You don’t know what to think anymore. He sighs at the sour expression on your face. “How to prove this to you… ah, I know. Hey, check this out.”

Josuke points to the controller sitting on your couch. Not a second later, it starts levitating in the air, your jaw-dropping at the unfeasible spectacle. Josuke lets out an airy chuckle at your bewilderment. “Sorry, that was pretty lame. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“There’s… really a spirit, in my house.” You struggle to say it aloud. The people living in Morioh could be superstitious, a view you attributed to living out in the country. This paranoia, or sometimes reverence, never fell in line with your beliefs. There was no solid proof that the supernatural existed. It made for riveting local stories, for youths to gossip and movies to adapt, but the line was drawn there. A timeline plays in your head of the past few weeks. It would explain how no one in this active community spotted an intruder, or how the police never found physical evidence.

“Our house, actually.” He corrects with a beaming smile.

ii.

Maybe it’s not so bad.

Josuke, with whom you have an unusual relationship, makes for decent company in your otherwise uneventful life. You still can’t help but feel on guard around him for his earlier behavior. As he explained it, borrowing your belongings was just a way to get to know you. He apologized wholeheartedly for the stress he put on your life. It felt genuine, but an apology doesn’t make everything go away at once. Little by little, Josuke’s grown on you, worming his way into your heart. Memories and feelings fade, your first few weeks after the move are no different.

“Have you seen my red scarf anywhere?” You call out, peeking underneath your pillow. Josuke appears from thin air -- an element that took some getting used to -- helping to look around your room. One of your conditions for remaining here was that he’d show up in your room only when invited, a condition Josuke was more than happy to agree to. You guess everyone is lonely in their own way.

“It’s not over here,” Josuke yells from beneath your desk. “What do you need it for, anyway? Can’t you just turn the heater on?”

“Well, I could, but that wouldn’t do me much good. Some friends invited me to karaoke tonight, and the weather report said it’ll drop to four degrees celsius.” Feeling defeated, you plop onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. Josuke leans over, popping into your line of sight. He’s lacking the trademark smile you’ve grown used to seeing. For such a minor change, it packs a punch. Josuke sulks like a kicked puppy.

“Karaoke, huh?” He mutters, more to himself than you. “My old classmates used to do stuff like that. Sounds fun.”

You sit up and cross your legs. Josuke’s tone is a longing one, wishing to fulfill a dream that can never be, visage painfully bleak. Guilt bubbles up in your stomach for the insensitive comment, not realizing he has a lot on his mind too. Josuke’s bubbly personality stood on a thin sheet of ice, ready to plunge into the depths at any moment. You wrack your mind to try and appease him.

“It really isn’t anything that exciting. I was going to say no, but they insisted. Just imagine it as a bunch of tone-deaf people drunkards belting, that’s all it is.” You console. Josuke doesn’t light up at your joke, his eyes hollow. From what you know about spirits, if they linger in this realm instead of moving onto the next, that means an obligation is holding them here. You’ve never asked Josuke why he hasn’t passed on. That leaves room for speculation, numerous hours spent ruminating over theories. Maybe he’ll tell you one day, or maybe he won’t. Either way, it’s still tragic he never got to live his life.

“Mm… guess so, yeah.” He isn’t paying attention to your words. Guilt as sharp as knives slices through you at Josuke’s gloomy mood. For a split second, you consider canceling with your friends, to stay home and cheer him up. He always loves playing games with you or just speaking over trivial matters for hours. You push the idea away. Fraternizing with a spirit on the daily isn’t enough to supply your social needs, only friends of flesh and blood can fill that role.

“Hey, I’m sorry for mentioning it. If you want to talk about--”

“No,” he cuts you off, shaking his head. “Go ahead. Go live life.”

You don’t offer a rebuttal. Josuke probably needs time to think, you decide. We can talk about it later.

iii.

“What’s up?”

You lean against the wall, payphone pressed against one ear and your hand covering the other. Music blares in the background, terrible acoustics of the crowded bar making it difficult to hear the other line. One of the workers grabbed you, saying you had a call, your guesses of who it could be next to nonexistent. You scrunch your nose up when you hear Josuke’s distinct voice on the other side.

“It’s late,” you hear him say. His voice is muffled, but the exasperated tone is hard to miss. “Shouldn’t you be back by now?”

Sighing, you struggle to rationalize why Josuke’s pestering you like this. You never gave a time when you’d be home, not thinking it was necessary. “I was going to leave soon. I don’t have class in the next few days, so it’s fine.”

“It’s dangerous to be out on your own--”

“Josuke,” you deadpan, rubbing your temples. “I appreciate the concern, really, I do. But I used to live in Tokyo, remember? If I could survive the city at night, I can survive here.”

“That’s not the point here,” Josuke counters, voice dropping dangerously low. Your patience is wearing thin at his attempts to police your autonomy. It’s not his place to enforce a curfew on you. “You don’t know what kinds of danger lurks in Morioh.”

Josuke’s statement is full of bone-chilling conviction. Almost like he was speaking from firsthand experience. You take a deep breath, remembering that you’re speaking to someone who likely died in a traumatizing manner here. Maybe extending a little grace wouldn’t hurt. It’s a shame to cut the night short, but it’s not that big a deal.

“Okay, I get it. It’s about a fifteen-minute walk back home. I’ll see you soon, alright?”

Softening your voice seems to have the effect you intended. Josuke takes a second to consider, the two of you waiting in tense silence. This is the first time you’ve gone out with friends, maybe he just wasn’t sure what to make of it. You hold no intention of bending to his every whim, but this one time, you’ll offer him peace of mind. There’ll be major boundaries set up in the future.

He sighs begrudgingly. “... Right.”

iv.

This is getting ridiculous.

Josuke’s behaving no better than an entitled child, your paper-thin patience starting to give way. The circumstances you’ve been placed into were unusual enough, to begin with, but they never felt malicious, not until Josuke’s personality seemed to switch in the blink of an eye. What you can only describe as sabotage has become a regular occurrence. It perfectly parallels the problems you had upon first moving into this house, only now you know the one responsible. He’ll act none the wiser, claiming innocence in what has to be his doing.

Cut phone lines, missing shoes, personal journals disappearing into thin air, nothing has been spared. Maybe you were foolish for trusting a spirit. You’d like to have thought you were on solid terms with Josuke, your mortal mind doing its best to wrap around the otherworldly events. You’re at your wit’s end, now fully prepared to confront him on this unacceptable display. It’s a shame it came to this, you think. Confrontation is the worst.

“Josuke.”

“[First].”

The two of you sit in the living room, on opposite sides of the couch. Ever since the karaoke disaster a few weeks ago, Josuke’s attitude has taken an undesirable turn, as evidenced by how he’s acting now. Never did you imagine he could be so petty. You straighten out your posture, squaring your shoulders, and placing your hands on your lap. He stares at you with faint interest, cerulean eyes shining at your attention.

“I’ve tried my best to be understanding,” you wince at how dramatic your words are. It almost sounds like you’re breaking up with a partner. “If I did something that upset you, please just be honest about it.”

Josuke gives a nonchalant wave. “Nah, it’s not that important anymore. I recently made up my mind, so I don’t feel too concerned about it.”

There weren’t many expectations in place for this talk, but Josuke dismissing you this fast wasn’t an outcome you envisioned. It feels like a slap to the face after you spent days dreading this talk. What did “recently making up his mind” even mean? Irritation rises in your throat like bile, words snapping out before you can stop them.

“You don’t just get to be that dismissive,” you point out with a scowl. “I know what you’ve been doing. Taking my stuff again, right, Higashikata? I’m fed up with this shit. Maybe I should just move out--”

Your sentence gets cut off by the coffee table’s glass shattering. The high pitched noise makes you jump, shards flying in multiple directions on the floor. Glancing from the mess back to Josuke, you find the sight of him as a stronger cause for worry. He looks thoroughly unimpressed with your emotional outburst. Thick eyebrows knit together, his face contorting from friendly to enraged. You gulp when a sudden chill in the air sending shivers down your spine. With how friendly your relationship with him had been up to this point, you forgot to watch your tongue, the initial reverence wearing off long ago.

Josuke stands up, flaunting his towering build. Looking down at you through lidded eyes, he reaches down, and you catch a glimpse of light blue and pink. Huh? What was that? A trick of the lights, maybe? As fast as it was destroyed, you watch in awe as the pieces return to their original place. Broken glass, chips of wood, screws and all, become whole as if it was a movie playing in reverse. Is this something else a spirit can do?

“Y’know, [First],” Josuke begins with a humorless laugh. “This is great. I wasn’t sure how to do this part. Now I don’t have to worry about that, so let me cut right to the chase.”

You feel the blood draining from your face, goosebumps dotting your skin. This is wrong. Whatever he’s doing now, you can’t stand another second of it. “Josuke, you’re scaring me.”

“That’s fine by me.” He smiles. There’s a palpable thickness in the air, tension elevating as each second crawls by. Your mind trips over itself in search of a solution to this, but deep down inside, you’re filled with dread. A dread that this damage is beyond repair and that you’ve made a fatal mistake. Would screaming even help you? Could you outrun a ghost? Your heart pounders against your ribcage and you pray it isn’t Josuke who’s trying to rip it out.

“You saw that table,” Josuke points to the once destroyed furniture, now neatly put back together. He frowns at your lack of confirmation, pressing further, voice increasing in volume. “Right?”

You somehow manage to nod. Your throat and tongue are too dry to use and the room feels like it’s spinning.

“That makes this simple then,” Josuke sits back down to his spot from before and stretches his arms. “There’s a lot I’m capable of. Way more than I’ve shown you. Breaking things apart and fixing them is my specialty, but… that last part can easily be omitted.”

Josuke turns to face you, eyes peering into the depths of your soul.

“Threaten to leave me again and I won’t even bother to put you back together.”

#Josuke Higashikata #Josuke Higashitaka #josuke headcanons #josuke imagine #yandere josuke #yandere josuke higashitaka #yandere josuke x reader #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jojo's bizarre adventures #jjba x reader #yandere jjba x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere ghost x reader #my stuff #commissions

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eliemo · 4 years ago

Text

Kiss Me (Before I Set the World on Fire)

Summary: Virgil should have told Roman why it bothered him so much. He would have understood. He should have known staying silent would just lead to something far worse.

Taglist: @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess (let me know if you want to be added)

“Oh my god, what now?”

Virgil forced himself not to flinch at the exasperation in Roman’s tone, instead crossing his arms and forcing himself to match the Prince's glare.

“What? I literally didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly!” Roman stood, reaching over to pause the recording. “You’re just sitting here sulking! Come on, Charlie Frown, why are you so against this video?”

Virgil sighed, running a hand over his face, wishing they could just drop the whole thing and disappear under the covers of Roman’s bed, letting everything but the two of them fade away for the rest of the day.

But apparently, Roman had gotten it into his head that he and Virgil needed to film some sort of “couples video” for Thomas’s channel and had spent the last week begging Logan to talk Thomas into it.

It wasn’t that Virgil was completely against the idea. It was hard to be completely against anything when he was doing it with Roman. It was just...they’d only been dating a little over a month, both still fighting to work around their own fears and insecurities to make things work, and Virgil wasn’t sure how he felt about putting their new dynamic out in the open for the whole world to see.

That, and the fact that today was just a bad day. It wasn’t anything unusual- just one of those days where Virgil’s anxiety wouldn’t leave him alone, exhausted brain running on overdrive. Paranoia and racing thoughts had kept him up most of the night, but he’d been careful not to mention anything in an attempt to not ruin Roman’s good mood.

Seemed he’d managed to do that anyway.

“Because I just...don't know how I feel about it,” he said. “I mean, come on. Is anyone actually gonna care that we’re together?”

“Of course they will!”

“But...why can’t we just casually mention it in passing?” Virgil asked. “Why do we have to make a video about it at all? Does it have to be this big of a deal?”

Truthfully, Virgil had to constantly keep himself from telling every single person in the entire world how happy he was, how incredible it was that he and Roman had gotten together. A part of him, the part not ruled by crippling fear, wanted the entire world to see how perfect they were together, wanted to shout it from the rooftops and make an entire series declaring his undying love.

But the reality of the situation was that they weren’t perfect.

Roman was, of course. He was...he was Roman. He was the Prince, he was Thomas’s creativity, elegant and beautiful and kind.

And Virgil was...Virgil. He was anxiety and doubt, dark, gloomy, and scared, and all he did was drag everyone back.

He and Roman weren’t perfect, happy as they were together, simply because Virgil was there. Nothing was perfect when he was involved. He just...he tainted it.

Somehow though, Roman overlooked that. Roman loved him, and they made it work.

But not everyone else was going to see it that way. Not everyone was going to turn away from his flaws. People would see him and Roman together, see how much better Roman deserved, and they wouldn’t be afraid to say something.

And Roman...Roman did deserve better. And if enough people pointed out how awful Virgil was, made convincing enough arguments for why Prince should leave...maybe he’d decide they were right.

“It wasn’t a big deal until you made it one,” Roman shot back, and cold panic began to curl in Virgil’s gut at the bite in his tone. “Jeez, what’s your deal?”

Virgil knew full well that if he told Roman the real reason he was uneasy about the idea, if he’d asked for just a few days to unwind and rest and hopefully avoid the panic attack he could already feel building up, he would back off immediately and offer any help he could.

But Virgil still wasn’t great at asking for help.

“Because it’s a stupid idea!” God, why couldn’t he just control himself? “Sorry I don’t want to sit here for ten minutes listening to you- you- brag and shit!”

Roman barked a laugh, the sound humorless. “Brag? Right, that’s what I’ll do. Brag about my boyfriend who refuses to let anyone do anything fun.”

“Fun? How is this fun? It’s just gonna be you talking about yourself and how much more romantic you are, or whatever. No one cares, Princey. It’s just gonna turn out dumb and awkward.”

Something far too close to real hurt flashed in Roman’s eyes, the argument taking on a dangerous edge, but it was quickly squandered by something darker.

“I don’t just talk about myself.”

Virgil scoffed, hating himself more and more every minute. “Yeah, sure.”

“Well, what am I supposed to talk about?” Roman demanded, too loud, too close to genuine anger. “You? All you do is sulk and mope around and make me miserable!”

Virgil winced at the harsh words, falling silent and watching warily as Roman paced. He knew Roman could have a temper sometimes, knew his rants were mostly just for the sake of dramatics.

But...well, he did have every right to be truly upset this time.

“I mean seriously!” The prince continued. “Forgive me for actually being excited about an idea! I just wanted to make a video about being in love, but I should have realized you would just ruin it!”

The words were met with heavy silence, Virgil’s throat suddenly too tight to form a reply, Roman’s anger sitting heavy on his chest.

The Prince sighed, running a hand through his hair, but he didn’t look any less unhappy. “I shouldn’t...ignore that. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He wondered if Roman meant Virgil ruining things, or that he was in love with him. He couldn’t bring himself to ask.

Roman quickly answered his question. “Yeah, this...this isn’t gonna work, is it?”

The panic building up was suddenly replaced with sickening, ice cold fear.

Roman...Roman didn’t mean…?

“I don’t know why I thought this could be a good idea,” the Prince said. “Not when you can’t stop arguing with me for two seconds.”

Oh, god. Oh god, he was. “Wait, Ro--”

“What?” Roman snapped, turning on him all at once, gaze intense and expectant. “What, Virgil? What is it?”

Virgil flinched, frantically trying to think of a response, for any way to repair the damage he’d done today.

But...but if Roman didn’t think the two of them could work, if he’d realized how much better he deserved...wouldn’t he just get more upset if Virgil selfishly tried to get him to stay?

He wanted them to work. More than anything. For a while, he’d really thought they could.

But if Roman ended it now, if he left Virgil alone (After all, Virgil deserved to be alone, didn’t he?) it would break him. Virgil didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

He opened his mouth to say as much, not sure how to stop himself, wanting to beg and plead Roman to forgive him, to give him one more chance.

But the panic and nausea were making it impossible to force any words out, that dark, awful voice in his head screaming that he didn’t deserve to ask Roman to stay.

And Roman apparently took that as an answer, shoulders dropping as he scoffed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re not even gonna bother.”

“Roman...that’s not…”

“No, it’s fine!” The words were cold and biting. “Seriously, all good! See? You got your way. Again. It’s done. It’s over. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Over. Over, it was...god no, no no Roman was going to leave. He couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t.

“Roman, I- I didn’t want—“

“Whatever, Virgil.” Roman scooped up the camera before stalking over to the door and holding it open. “If you don’t mind? I’d like to be alone so I can continue bragging about myself. I’m sure you’re ecstatic to get away from all that.”

“Roman...Ro, please, I didn’t mean—“

“Get out, Virgil.”

Virgil felt numb. Slowly, unable to look up and see Roman’s face twisted in hatred, he pushed himself away from the table they’d stationed themselves at, and stepped away, everything achingly silent except for Prince’s heavy breathing.

Virgil didn’t even bother walking to the door, not even sure he could stay upright that long. He just sunk out, and as the floor disappeared under him, he wondered if he would ever be welcomed back in Roman’s room.

His own bedroom was frigid, dark, and empty, and Virgil almost felt like he was being sent to a prison cell with how gloomy it looked.

It suited him, he supposed. Dark and brooding and...and alone.

Had...had he and Roman just…

“This isn’t going to work, isn’t it?”

They hadn’t fought like that in months. It had stopped some time before they’d gotten together, but today it was like all their progress had been undone.

Virgil had done that. Virgil had single handedly ruined the best thing that ever happened to him. All because he couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut.

Roman finally realized Virgil had never changed. That Virgil would only bring him down, make him miserable.

And so he’d left him.

“I don’t know why I thought this could be a good idea!”

Virgil couldn’t move from where he stood in the middle of his room, everything far away and cold. He felt himself sink to the floor, felt the first few tears slip down his face before he began to sob.

Everything was falling apart. The world was crashing down around him, his own crying, loud, obnoxious, pathetic wails that bounced across his walls piercing to his own ears, bile rising up in his throat.

Roman was right. Virgil ruined everything. No wonder he made Creativity so miserable.

Virgil decided he’d actually rather leap out a window than join the others for dinner that night. He wasn’t even sure he could if he wanted to.

He hadn’t moved from the floor for what had to be a couple of hours at least, shaking and sobbing and viciously tearing his nails through the carpet.

By the time he’d cried himself out, he’d been far too exhausted to even consider moving, curled up on his side staring blankly at the light from the bottom of the door.

Patton had knocked some time later, cheerfully informing the anxious side that dinner was ready. It was only after a few moments of silence, when Patton’s voice grew worried and his knocking turned almost frantic, that Virgil forced himself to speak and claim he wasn’t hungry.

“You feeling ok?” Patton had asked, gentle and caring as ever. “Do you want me to bring you something? I can send Roman to--”

“No, Patton.” He hadn’t meant to snap, his disgust with himself only growing to an unbearable ache, but even just the Prince’s name threatened to bring a fresh wave of sobs to the surface. “I- I’m fine, Pat.”

Patton had mercifully left him alone after that, not prying after the wobble in his voice but promising to leave a plate in the fridge for whenever he wanted.

Virgil wondered how Roman was doing. If he even missed him at all. It was doubtful, he’d made a decision but...what they’d had was good. It had been. At least while it lasted.

They’d only been together a little over a month, but Virgil honestly wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do without Roman now.

He loved him. He loved him so much. He hadn’t really been able to convince himself he could deserve happiness like this until Roman proved otherwise, literally scooping him off his feet and showing him just how wrong he was.

And he’d let him think that maybe...maybe he was helping Roman too. Maybe slowly, they could both bring out the best in each other.

And Virgil had managed to undo all of that in one day. All because he couldn’t suck it up and keep his stupid mouth shut for one minute.

Eventually, when the sky darkened and the mindscape was quiet, Virgil dragged himself off the floor, changed into sweats, pulled his hood over his head, and crawled into bed.

It felt cold and empty without Roman’s arms around him.

Virgil buried himself in the blankets, hugging his pillow close to his chest, not bothering to try and stop his crying. He deserved to be miserable, didn’t he? He’d certainly put everyone else through enough misery for a lifetime.

He wondered if Roman would even talk to him after tonight, or if the Prince would just shut Virgil’s existence out completely.

Maybe things would go back to how they used to be, the two of them practically enemies, Roman treating Anxiety like the villain he’d always known he was.

In the end, Virgil supposed it didn’t really matter how he was treated now. He’d lose Roman either way.

He’d felt heartbreak through Thomas, of course, more than once. But this...this was so much different. So much worse.

It was heavy, a weight sitting on his chest, restraining him, keeping him pinned down until he couldn’t breathe. And it hurt. It hurt worse than anything he’d ever known.

Coupled with the panic that hadn’t gone away, Virgil was left a crying, trembling mess in his bed.

He stayed like that until what had to be nearly one in the morning, unable to fall asleep, the hours passing by in meaningless blurs, breath catching when he heard the doorknob turn.

Virgil went very still, careful to keep his ragged breathing quiet and shallow, hoping that whoever it was would just hurry up and go away.

He didn’t have the energy to explain to Patton or Logan what had happened. He didn’t think he knew how to say it aloud.

“I know you’re awake, Virgil.”

That was Roman’s voice, the Prince standing in the dark entryway, and Virgil felt blinding panic reach up and seize his heart.

“Come on,” Roman said, and while he didn’t sound as angry as he had that afternoon, he certainly didn’t sound happy. “Are you going to keep pouting or can we talk?”

Virgil didn’t answer, didn’t move from where he lay with his face against the pillow, but he listened as Roman sighed and slowly made his way over to the bed.

What more could Roman possibly have to say?

Virgil kept his eyes shut, refusing to cause Roman any guilt by breaking down in front of him. He felt the mattress dip as the Prince lowered himself on the edge of the bed.

“Look--”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said before Roman could finish. “I...I’m sorry. For ruining it.”

It was followed by a string of heavy silence that stretched on an unbearably long time, and Virgil could practically feel Roman’s eyes on him.

“Don’t be,” Roman said eventually. “And you didn’t. I didn’t mean to...it was gonna end that way eventually, right?”

Virgil froze, remembering the yelling, the awful fight he’d caused that had pushed Roman to his breaking point.

Roman had just...expected that?

“It...it was?”

“I mean, probably,” Roman said, with an air of nonchalance that hurt worse than any amount of shouting could. “And it’s not a big deal that it didn’t work. It was just...a silly idea. Totally impulsive on my part.”

Virgil huffed a laugh, the sound dangerously close to turning into a sob.

“Yeah,” he said, because that was true at least. He loved Roman more than anything, but he still couldn’t comprehend what could have possessed Roman to show an interest in him. “It...it wasn’t silly to me.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Roman scoffed, and Virgil winced. Prince must have noticed, because he quickly continued. “Look, I’m...I’m sorry I yelled. I think we both got a little worked up.”

It was Virgil’s fault. He’d ruined it. He deserved to be alone.

“Ok.”

“Seriously, Virge. It’s not a big deal. Can’t we just...move on?”

He hated this. He hated this. Acting like they could just go back to being acquaintances, like nothing had ever happened between them, like breaking Virgil’s heart didn’t even matter.

He didn’t answer, digging his nails into his palms in a vain attempt at forcing back rising tears, praying that Roman would hurry up and leave him alone.

There was a hand on his shoulder, the touch achingly familiar, and Virgil jerked away with a panicked gasp.

“Don’t.”

“Virge—”

“Roman, please.” He struggled to sit up, the hurt only worsening at the confused exasperation he’d heard in Roman’s voice. “I can’t do that, I can’t...I don’t know how to just pretend...fuck, Roman I don’t know what to do without you!”

God, he was pathetic. Roman had finally opened his eyes and decided he deserved better, and here Virgil was, useless as always, unable to let go.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he choked out, vision blurred by new tears, the guilt and disgust suffocating. “Please, Ro, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry f- for- for fucking up, I’m sorry just- just please give me another chance I can- I’ll--”

He cut off with a broken sob as Roman’s hands were suddenly on his face, cupping both his cheeks and forcing him to look the Prince in the eyes.

“What are you talking about?” He was frantically searching Virgil’s watering eyes, horrified realization dawning. “Did you think I meant...Virgil have you been laying here all night thinking I broke up with you?”

Virgil’s breathing was quickly turning to ragged gasps as he desperately tried to muffle his crying, face burning in frustrated shame when the tears just continued to fall. There was absolutely no way for him to hold back another sob when Roman began wiping them away with his thumbs, looking strangely pained.

“Y-you s-said...you said i-it wouldn’t- w-wouldn’t work, y-you...you said--”

“Oh, darling no.”

Roman’s arms were suddenly wrapped around him, pulling him close, and Virgil didn’t think twice before falling against his chest, clutching desperately at the Prince’s shirt and wailing.

It all came spilling out again at the feeling of Roman’s arms around him, holding him like he’d protect the anxious side with his life. It was everything Virgil had grown accustomed to these last weeks. Everything he didn’t want to lose.

“It’s alright,” Roman said softly, holding Virgil tight as he cried. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. I’m so sorry, Virgil, I’m so sorry. It was just an argument, darling, don’t cry, please don’t cry.”

“Y-you- you said you knew,” Virgil sobbed, anguished cries muffled against Roman’s chest. “You knew it w-would end, you- you s-said it was over I-I thought--”

“Oh no, darling I wasn’t talking about us. I was talking about the video, Virgil. I was angry about the stupid video. It was just a fight, V. I’m so sorry for saying those things.”

Roman kept talking, rocking them both gently where they sat on Virgil’s bed, rubbing circles along the anxious side’s back. He would tighten his protective hold each time Virgil’s cries would grow loud again, devastated bawling that wouldn’t stop even with Roman’s reassurances.

But eventually the sobbing faded, leaving Virgil hiccuping and gasping for air, panic and sorrow fading and making way for utter exhaustion and hopeful relief as Roman’s words set in.

“I...I don’t want to be in here,” he said, as soon as he found his voice. “Can we--?”

“Of course.”

Roman was immediately sinking out, Virgil still held carefully in his arms, the two of them reappearing in the middle of Prince’s unmade bed in seconds. It seemed like neither of them had been able to sleep.

Roman guided them both backwards until they were laying down, still chest to chest, one hand reaching back to pull the covers up and over them. Virgil let out one more trembling breath, taking a moment to lay against Prince’s now tear soaked shirt, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing in Roman’s scent, taking in his arms around him, his steady breathing in his ear.

“So,” Virgil said after a moment, quiet and hesitant. “Just to, um, clarify. You’re not...you aren’t breaking up with me?”

Roman pulled back from where he’d had his nose pressed against Virgil’s hair, just enough so he could crane his neck to get a better look at the other side, eyes wide and filled with his own, unshed tears.

“No,” he insisted, almost desperate. “No, darling never. I never want to leave you, Virgil. I promise. You’re stuck with me.”

Virgil huffed, glancing up to give Roman a timid smile. “I’m not gonna hold you to that promise. I get it. I’m...a lot. Clearly.”

Roman leaned forward to press a kiss into Virgil’s hair. “You’re a lot of things like perfect, and beautiful, and magnificent--!”

“Oh my god.” Virgil’s cheeks were on fire, despite it just being the two of them in the dimly lit room, and he quickly buried his face back into the Prince’s shirt.

“And,” Roman continued, a bit softer. “I’m very sorry for raising my voice at you. I didn’t even realize, I...I overreacted. And I’m sorry.”

“I’m pretty sure I yelled first, Princey,” Virgil said. “I was an ass. And I didn’t mean it, either. The video...wasn't stupid. It was just...I was stressed and I freaked out. Bad day, I guess.”

Roman moved one hand to start running his fingers through Virgil’s hair, nails lightly scratching at his scalp, and Virgil’s eyelids fluttered at the blissful feeling. “What’s bothering you, Love?”

Dammit. Roman really knew how to break down his defenses.

“I- I guess the idea of making...us public is...it just stresses me out sometimes. I’ve known you wanted to for a while and I’ve been stupidly anxious about it. I should have told you.”

Roman was silent a moment, never stilling the movement of his fingers, and Virgil could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“You...you know I’d never force you to do that video, right? Whether you needed more time, or you never wanted to do it at all, I wouldn’t have been upset with you.”

Roman was always unbelievably patient with him. He had a temper sometimes, they both did, but he was more than willing to take things as slow as Virgil needed. Anything to make him comfortable.

With Roman, Virgil had never felt more safe in his life. Feeling pressured hadn’t been the issue at all.

“I know you wouldn’t,” he said gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Can I...ask why it upsets you so much?”

“I just…” And really, what else was there to say but the blatant truth? “I just still can’t believe that I’m with you. That you like me. Out of anyone.”

The hand in his hair slowed, just for a moment, and he could almost picture Princey’s puzzled expression. “I’m...not following.”

“You deserve the world, Roman,” Virgil said. “And I want to give that to you because...because I- I love you. And I just get it into my head that if people find out we’re together...they’ll see how much better you deserve. Because you should have everything and you...you got me. And I know you’re ok with that, but I just worry that if enough people tell you to leave you’ll realize you--”

He was abruptly cut off by Roman’s lips over his own, the Prince suddenly on top of him with one hand still behind Virgil’s head, the other tilting his chin upwards.

Obviously they’d kissed countless times before, but to Virgil each time felt like the first all over again. He didn’t think he would ever get used to this feeling, fiery warmth that spread through his body, the way he practically came undone when Roman brushed his lips, everything perfectly at peace when they fit together.

Roman pulled away, cheeks flushed as he looked down at Virgil’s equally red face, their noses almost touching.

“I love you.”

It was said suddenly, with so much force and desperation, and Virgil blinked, momentarily caught completely off guard. “I- thank you? I love you too, but--”

He stopped when Roman was suddenly pressing a kiss to his forehead, pulling away a few seconds later with another hushed “I love you.”

“Roman--”

Roman kept going like that, pressing meaningful, gentle kisses to almost every inch of Virgil’s face, cradling his jaw like something delicate. With each kiss Prince would whisper another soft, “I love you,” just loud enough for Virgil to hear.

When he was done he didn’t go far, warm hands still delicately framing Virgil’s face, looking down at him with what could only be described as awe.

“God, I love you,” Roman said again, and Virgil was almost positive his face was the color of the Prince's sash by now. “Virgil, I’m happier than I’ve ever been when I’m with you. You know that, right?”

“I...I guess, but--”

Roman pressed another quick kiss to his lips, and he clearly wasn’t expecting a back and forth discussion seeing as Virgil was far too flustered to form coherent answers.

“I’m supposed to be the sappy one, you know,” Roman said when he pulled away with a smirk, the smile quickly dropping into something more serious. “You are my world, darling. I do have everything. Because I have you. I wouldn’t give this up for anything, and a stupid comment from a jealous idiot who has no idea how beautiful you are won’t ever change that. Do you understand?”

For a moment, Virgil couldn’t bring himself to speak, the words getting jumbled and caught up in his tightening throat. Roman’s voice was swirling around his head, forcing the dark anxious thoughts to finally retreat, replaced only with overwhelming love and lighthearted giddiness.

It was a wonder Virgil had any tears left to cry, but suddenly his vision was blurring and Roman’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I just...I- I thought--”

It was Virgil’s turn to cut Roman off with a kiss, this one a bit more sloppy and desperate as he grabbed Roman’s collar and dragged him back down, but he savored the feeling all the same.

When it was over, Roman was watching him with wide eyes, brimming with hope and worry, and Virgil found himself smiling.

“You dork,” he muttered, and Roman instantly relaxed. “I’m not...good at this like you are but...me too. All of that. You...you’re perfect, Roman. I don’t know what I did right to deserve you.”

“You think I don’t wonder how I got lucky enough for you to love me?” Roman asked, smiling when Virgil carefully reached up to wipe away the Prince’s own tears. “I’m not letting go of this, Stormcloud. Unless...unless you ever change your mind.”

Virgil moved to wrap his arms around Roman, guiding him back down until he was laid against his chest, the Prince’s head rested comfortably on his shoulder, the weight warm and grounding.

“Not a chance, Princey,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment just to listen to Roman’s breathing. “We can film the video.”

He felt Roman freeze, just for a second. “I- really?”

“Yeah.” Somehow, the idea wasn’t quite as terrifying as it had been before. “Just...maybe in a few days, if that’s ok.”

“Of course!” Roman exclaimed, and Virgil could hear the excitement in his voice. “We can do it whenever you’re ready.”

“Maybe we could...plan it out a bit more tomorrow. Work on a more concrete script.”

“Good idea,” Roman agreed. Reaching over to take Virgil’s hand. “I suppose I got a little carried away in my excitement. I shouldn’t have dragged you into a video like that...I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“And I’m sorry for being an asshole about it,” Virgil said. “I should have just talked to you. I’m still not...great at telling people when somethings bothering me.”

“Your comfort is my top priority. Always. Never be afraid to tell me these things, Virgil. How else am I supposed to protect you?”

Virgil scoffed, this time light and good natured, and Roman chuckled along with him. “Protecting you is my job, Ro. But...but I will. I promise.”

“I know it’s not easy,” Roman said. “And it’s not your fault, I’m not angry. All I ask is that you try. I’m always going to be here.”

Roman had said that before, of course, he knew where Virgil’s fears and insecurities stemmed from.

But now, the two of them wrapped in each other's arms, it was the first time Virgil had ever been able to believe the words without hesitation, the doubts completely silent.

He listened to Roman’s breaths slow and even out, felt him relax completely against Virgil’s chest, the anxious side still wide awake despite his exhaustion.

“I love you too, by the way,” he whispered when he was fairly certain Roman had fallen asleep. “So, so much. I wish I was better at saying it.”

Roman said nothing, but Virgil felt him squeeze his hand and run his thumb along his knuckles, a silent communication somehow letting Virgil know that it was ok, that they were both learning.

Virgil smiled and closed his eyes, completely at ease in the Prince’s hold. And he realized, just before he succumbed to sleep, that a small part of him was actually looking forward to that video.

Honestly, how could he not if it meant he would see Roman smile at him?

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #ts patton #writing #fanfiction #theyre soft and gay #and so in love

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seijorhi · 5 years ago

Note

Lev pretending to be innocent in front of the reader but is actually her stalker with those cat eyes. He asks help from her and they gradually get closer until he gets her all alone in her apartment under his care

Absolutely! Lev is prime stalker material 👀 poor reader

Lev Haiba x Reader

TW stalking, manipulation

Harmless

“Don’t you think he’s just a little… I don’t know, creepy?” your best friend murmurs in a pointed tone, stirring the sugar into her coffee.

You bite back a sigh - it’s a conversation you’ve had countless times before and it always ends the same way. You defend Lev, chastise your friend for her paranoia and distrustful nature and eventually she relents with an unconvincing ‘if you say so’.

“He’s harmless, honestly - Lev wouldn’t hurt a fly and he’s actually very sweet once you get to know him. I don’t know why you’re so against him. He’s a good friend.”

She huffs, taking a slow sip of her drink before she replies. “Well for one, he’s like an overgrown shadow. I swear, every time we’re out together we always seem to just magically run into him, all big and looming, and he’s always staring at you like he wants to gobble you up - just you by the way, he outright ignores the rest of us peasants - it’s like he’s obsessed with you or something, and-”

She keeps talking, but honestly you kind of zone out a little bit. You can’t judge her too harshly. She’s always been protective of you, ever since you guys were kids, you suppose it’s only natural for her to be wary of Lev.

And she’s not wrong per se. You do have the strangest habit of running into Lev around town, but it’s how you met, after all - quite literally running into the 6’5” giant as you were exiting the exact same coffee shop you were currently sitting in.

Spilling your piping hot coffee all over somebody else’s sweater doesn’t usually have the makings of a burgeoning friendship but Lev had been so sweet about the whole thing, blushing and bowing, shooting apology after apology (despite the fact that it was mostly your fault) that you couldn’t help but offer to buy his drink in compensation for ruining his morning - and more importantly his clothes.

Lev, grinning brightly, had agreed with a single condition - that you joined him. And really, after pouring hot coffee all over him, it was the least you could do.

“Hey, are you even paying attention to me?!”

You jerk a little, shaking yourself out of your reverie to find your friend glaring at you. It lacks any real heat though, and she just rolls her eyes and gives a long suffering sigh. “I’m worried about you, Y/N. Didn’t you say that some of your stuff has been going missing lately?”

An old picture of you and some friends on vacation, a necklace you used to wear religiously and you could swear that you’re missing one of your favourite bras and some panties, but… sometimes stuff like that just gets misplaced - it’s not like you’re exactly the tidiest person around.

Still, you can’t help the way that your brows furrow at her implication, “I said I misplaced some things. Are you honestly suggesting that Lev broke into my apartment to steal that stuff?” you ask with a snicker. The very idea of the silver haired giant sneaking around your tiny apartment is ridiculous!

Your friend’s pointed silence speaks volumes.

“Oh, come on! He’s just a friend - a little excitable maybe,” and very affectionate, always swallowing you up in tight hugs, fingers constantly seeking out yours - but somehow you don’t think that part will help your case, “but he’s just a big softie.”

She scoffs, folding her arms over her chest. She doesn’t speak for a long moment, but when she does, she reaches across the table to grab your hand in hers, squeezing it lightly. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m being a jealous, judgemental bitch because I don’t like the idea of anyone else coming to steal you away from me,” she smiles self deprecatingly, but there’s an real edge of worry in her eyes that makes your stomach twist, “but you’re the most important thing to me. I don’t want you getting hurt, and I get bad vibes from that guy.”

You open your mouth to retort, but she just shakes her head, “Just… just promise me you’ll be careful around him, alright?”

Wordlessly, you nod.

As much as you try and dismiss her concerns, as days pass you begin to wonder if maybe she isn’t wrong.

Not about Lev of course - he might be a little over exuberant but you know he doesn’t mean any harm by it - but you think, well… you’re starting to think that maybe somebody’s following you.

At first it’s just the tickling sensation on the back of your neck. When you run to the corner store on your lunch break to pick up a snack for the afternoon a shiver runs down your spine as you get the strangest feeling that somebody’s staring at you - you can feel the weight of their gaze burning into your back, but whenever you turn there’s nobody there.

There’s never anybody there.

But… didn’t you shut the door to your closet before you left for work that morning? You could have sworn that the window to your second storey bedroom was locked.

It comes to a head one night after work. You leave later than you normally would, having lost track of time trying to get some last minute emails off and by the time you actually get out the door it’s already dark outside and it’s pouring down with rain.

You’re halfway home when you get that prickling feeling on your skin, and your gut tightens uncomfortably. Tentatively you slow, shooting a furtive glance over your shoulder. The streets of the city are normally busy at this time of the night, but the rain’s driven people away - there’s not a soul in sight, including any wannabe stalkers.

The tight grip on your heart eases and you force yourself to relax. You’re imagining things now, you think with a shake of your head and a breathless laugh.

Nobody’s out to get you, you’re fine.

Except the prickling sensation on the back of your neck doesn’t go away, and with every step you take the discomfort in your gut becomes harder and harder to ignore. Fingers flit anxiously at your side, your grip tightening on the handle of your umbrella. The rain’s loud as it crashes around you, but as you turn down the music coming from your headphones you swear that you can hear heavy footfalls behind you.

All it would take is another quick glance to confirm your suspicions. It could just be another person out in the rain trying to make their way home, same as you. It could be all your head, paranoia brought about by your friend’s worries. But fear has clawed its way up your spine - it’s late and you’re tired and scared, rational thought has left the building and you don’t think about any of that before dropping your umbrella and taking off into a sprint.

You don’t look back.

You don’t stop until you're back in the safety of your apartment with the door locked, blinds shut and the deadbolt in place.

You’re still trembling twenty minutes later when there’s a knock at your front door.

Your heart leaps into your throat at the sound, your entire body tensing, and for a single moment you debate not answering the door, but… you let out a sigh, shaking your head. You’re being ridiculous.

A quick glance through the peephole sets your heart at ease. Standing in the hallway dressed in a slightly damp black overcoat, his silvery-grey hair dusted with rain, is Lev.

Relief floods through you as you quickly work at the locks, flicking open the deadbolt.

“Hey, Lev,” you murmur somewhat sheepishly, stepping back to let him come inside.

His green, catlike eyes light up at the sight of you, and he doesn’t waste a moment before leaning down and enveloping you in a tight hug - never mind his wet coat. You let yourself relax into the embrace - the comforting warmth as he wraps himself around you and strokes your back. “Y/N! I’m so glad you’re home! I know I’m kinda stopping by unannounced and all, but I was just on my way…” he trails off as he pulls back slightly, eyes narrowing as they flicker across your face.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he murmurs, his hands still entwined around your waist.

You smile tightly, biting down on your bottom lip. Should you tell him? There’s still some part of you that thinks maybe it’s all in your head, that you’re working yourself up for no good reason, but what if you’re not? What if there is somebody who’s-

There’s an insistent tug at your waist and your eyes dart back up to find Lev’s frown deepening. “Something’s wrong, tell me.”

A blush finds its way to your cheeks as you carefully unwind yourself from his hold and make your way back further into your living room, “I- you’ll think I’m being stupid I guess, or paranoid, but…”

“But?” he prompts.

You take a deep breath, fingers twisting in front of you, “I think that somebody might be… following me?” you phrase it almost as a question, carefully watching his face for any sign that he might start laughing at you. But he doesn’t - Lev’s features are perfectly blank as he stares back at you, and you rush to fill the sudden heavy silence that falls between the two of you. “I know it sounds insane, but my friend got me worried the other day, and things have been going missing from my place and I’m almost positive that somebody followed me home tonight and-”

“Hey,” he says, quickly stepping forward to close the distance between you. He reaches for your hand with a soft smile and you let him take it, offering a shaking smile back when his thumb smooths over the back of your palm. “I believe you. You don’t need to be scared, I’m here for you.”

You nod, swallowing down your nerves once more.

“Do you… do you want me to stay tonight? Or at least for a few hours, you just look so fragile and frightened, I hate the thought of leaving you like this.”

Lev’s eyes show nothing but earnest concern as he studies you with a pout, and this time when your lips curl into a smile it's with genuine gratitude for your friend.

You should say no - it’s hardly fair for you to impose on him over something you’re not even sure is real, but… “Actually, that sounds good, if you don’t have plans of course - I don’t want to spoil your night or anything,” you mutter with a blush.

Lev just shakes his head with a soft laugh, “Of course not. You’re my only concern tonight, angel.”

You try not to let the relief show on your face too much. You’ll feel better knowing he’s there with you, and if nothing else you know he’ll take your mind off of things. It’s just what you need tonight - a friend. “Thank you,” you say warmly, dropping his hand so you can make your way back into the kitchen. “I was actually just about to start dinner, have you eaten yet? I was thinking pasta, but let me know if you feel like something else.”

He watches you for a moment as you open the fridge and bend over to rummage inside. “Pasta sounds great,” he calls back, shedding his damp jacket and making his way over to hang it off the coat rack by the front door.

Busy in the kitchen, you’re none the wiser to the soft click of locks turning, the deadbolt sliding back into place.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere lev #yandere lev x reader #yandere lev haiba #yandere lev haiba x reader #lev haiba #yandere hq #yandere imagines #lev haiba x reader #request #tw stalking #my writing

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subwalls · 4 years ago

Text

Tales from the SMP Presents: The Haunted Mansion

An ongoing exploration of how the Inbetween drives my Kingdom Hearts brain crazy with paranoia! Less of an analysis this time, because we got confirmation (VALIDATION!!), and more of speculation, but yeah!

First of all! I was right not to trust this fucker.

Just kidding, that’s not the first thing we’re gonna talk about here. First of all, a gentle recap!

As I’ve mentioned before, the Inbetween has some uncanny resemblance to the Kingdom Hearts world known as Castle Oblivion. Castle Oblivion is known for being the place where the main series protagonist lost all of his memories, and even had false memories implanted while he was getting deeper and deeper into it.

You might be curious as to how the Kingdom Hearts protagonist escapes.

He doesn’t.

He needs outside help, and a lot of it, to get him out of that situation. Even then, it takes a whole year. He drove his own heart into the bottom of the abyss in his desperation to save someone he was tricked into thinking he knew, and he didn’t even regret it, because he was saving someone.

... A lot of people on Dream SMP have different ideas on what it means to save people.

Also, the castle also had a very plot-twisty secret where it used to be the lush and wonderful home of these three friends before they fell apart; one was lost to the Evil Dark Side™ (not real name), the other was trapped in the Realm of Darkness (real name), and the last one fell into a coma for TEN (10) YEARS and his body was left to be protected in the heart of the land, which was then locked and turned into Castle Oblivion.

So, pretty fucked up place! Not inherently evil, but the place of great misfortune and just... not very good for everyone there.

Let’s start at the beginning!

Welcome back indeed. Take notice of the wither rose in the pot, by the way, I’ll come back to this in a bit.

The first thing that stands out to me on this page is the smiley face, of course. It’s not the ever-iconic, ever-evil “:)”, but it’s similar enough that I think the callback is intentional. The smiley is c!Dream’s icon, of course, which... honestly makes me think that “:]” might be DreamXD, but that might be because I’m very very biased for the server god who simps for a dangerously apathetic cottagecore once-king.

Of course, it does also look kind of like Quackity’s face, and cc!Quackity has said something about big lore coming for him, but until further evidence is presented I’m disinclined to draw a connection there.

The Inbetween, as we’ve come to know the author of some of these books to be, being happy that Karl is continuing—it reminds me of the KH protagonist being told yes, good job, keep going, as he stumbles deeper and deeper into the castle that strips away memory after memory from his heart. Why does the Inbetween think that Karl’s time travel is important, his careful documentation of every story? Is it because the more he does it, the more he becomes attached? The more he becomes reliant on the Inbetween to feed the missing pieces of his memory?

Is it because the Inbetween, in parallel to c!Dream and c!Wilbur, prioritize the concept of story over the characters?

Things to think about. 🤔

Also kind of interesting that the Inbetween thinks Karl will eventually uncover “all [he] needs to”, which continues to make me think that the more c!Karl comes to the Inbetween the more he becomes... either dependent or over-trusting of it. Not sure. But weird things happen when it’s magic that tampers with memories, rather than trauma.

Basically, I’m getting “there is no war in Ba Sing Se” vibes.

The book continues to say that Karl probably has a lot of questions and that it would love to answer :] but never actually does. It’s trying to come off as helpful without actually being helpful. All it does is tempt him with the prospect of answers, and then draws him in deeper. “Continue onward, Karl.” But why?

Another wither rose pot.

Sidestepping the very innocuous, very surface-level information offered here (because that’s it, it’s nothing about the workings about the Inbetween, it’s just a little sweet carrot to distract with), I cannot even begin to convey the absolute terror that consumed me at the word “sleepy.”

I mentioned earlier that one of the original characters who lived in the land that would become Castle Oblivion went into a coma, right? But it’s more commonly referred to as sleeping. The game is even called “Birth by Sleep”, and there’s a whole thing about trying to get him to “wake up”. So the idea that time travel can take something out of the traveller that makes them tired, the idea that there is one specific room for sleeping quarters within the Inbetween, paired with that not-quite-right smiley face—I am traumatized, I tell you.

Yes it could be a “haha look what I did with the sentence, because day is a form of time and they time travel so long day is a funny term” kind of smiley, but. Kingdom Hearts has trained me to be suspicious of any talk of sleep.

There’s something just mildly unsettling about the way it continues, with the references to the “many Karls” and the “many many great stories” that sounds borderline condescending.

And now we get the, uh, “other” author. Notice how this one actually did not have a corresponding wither rose in a pot. I’m starting to think that the flower might actually be an indicator of the not-this-author-pictured-above, the probably-Inbetween-itself, so the fact that this book was found separately from a wither rose pot and it was tucked away under a tree... A tree, under which c!Karl will later find a bit of a refuge... yeah, different author. Or at least an author from a different time.

I’ll elaborate in a moment, but I do think that there’s three (3) mindsets/authors happening here: the sickly sweet Inbetween pretending to be good, the person trying to get c!Karl to distrust the Inbetween, and... someone who desperately wants c!Karl to stay in line.

This is the third... I don’t want to say author, because it too has the wither rose pot and is trying to keep c!Karl playing along with the Inbetween, but it’s much less coherent and much more desperate.

No “:]”, either.

Some possibilities I’m considering:

the Inbetween, but it’s like, a security subroutine or a glitch in the system,

the Inbetween, but it’s from a future wherein c!Karl has fucked it up to the point of desperation,

Karl / the other author, but it’s from a future, where trying to stray from the Inbetween resulted in something traumatic happening and they don’t want it to happen anymore.

Some fun possibilities to keep in mind. Anyway!

Ooh, the return of the wither rose pot.

For this part, the only thing I really have to say is that the repetition of the Inbetween trying to present itself as “a place to feel at ease” is... Well, as the lovely Fear has said in this post linked here, a place that tries and makes itself seem safe probably isn’t, because a genuinely safe place wouldn’t need to announce it all the time.

Very much sounding like a Ba Sing Se thing.

More importantly, the book actually says that it’s “wild” how the Inbetween is “so beautiful that even time travellers who go anywhere at anytime ever and they still choose here” with a good old “:]” tacked on at the end. That’s... that’s not just me thinking like that sounds kind of threatening, right? Like, time travellers can see anything anywhere, and they keep coming back to the Inbetween. Why?

Is it because they forget the beauty of anything else? Is it because it’s not beauty, but rather attachment and emotion that keeps someone going back to a place? If someone forgets their loved ones and precious things, then why would they go anywhere but the place where they’ve put all their stories?

Why did KH’s protagonist keep going deeper into Castle Oblivion even though he knew that the castle was taking apart his memories? Because he had one thing left: the fake, implanted memory, which told him that in order to save someone, he needed to push on no matter the personal cost.

So the real question is: are the time travellers coming back to the Inbetween because they want to, or because they no longer have a choice?

It regards all the different Karls with such... distant affection, too. “How beautiful,” it calls them, for wandering the blank halls with blank stares and blank hearts, none of which react to each other. It says that they “choose” to walk the halls, uncover mysteries, and tell stories. But what was the other choice? Was it really a choice at all?

Hmm.

Karl goes on to explore, and finds another book that does not have a wither rose pot, which tells him he has to go Under The Tree.mp3 and informs him that he “can’t afford not to”. Cool. Not ominous at all.

He finds another, which says the same thing.

Definitely not ominous. /s

The phrasing here is interesting, because it’s also phrased like a threat. Usually, when someone tells you that you “can’t afford not to”, you’re either looking at a scam or at the business end of a weapon. But the empty pages tell you that the author is trying to keep it down low. That’s one of the ways Minecraft players have found to express tone in the very limited form of Minecraft books, and it works splendidly.

Not to push my DreamXD agenda, but like... the door was iron. Iron doors are a weakness for Dreams and dreamons and, mayhaps, Dream’s dreamon.

I know it’s probably just because the iron door keeps in line with the color palette of the build but let me dream, alright.

Anyway, book content! And an interesting point of order: there is a wither rose pot. I said earlier that it might be an indicator of the Inbetween as an author, but that doesn’t make much sense now, does it? This is meant to be a place hidden from the “it” that I assume to be either the Inbetween itself or the one/s controlling it.

So why the wither rose pot inconsistency?

Unless it doesn’t mean that. Unless it’s just a metaphor for, say, memories withering away or something. Or maybe it’s just a pretty plant, for funsies! Who knows. If I had to guess, I’d say that (after much reflection) it’s likely less a mark of author and more a theme of, mm, memory status. The withering away of memories. It fits in with the Inbetween, because that’s what might be responsible for it, but the author/s of the book aren’t immune, either. They get blinks of clarity, with the hidden, tucked-away tomes, but they might not be completely free.

The next book, however, again lacks the wither rose pot. It might not be a coincidence that the one without the potential mark of a withering memory is the one that actually divulges some more information.

This book goes into slightly more detail about the warning, though not about whatever actual threat it is that the castle (which... Castle Oblivion, you know) presents.

It says that 1) it’s not what it seems, 2) the "truth about the other forms of you”, 3) this place “is not okay”, and 4) get in that portal we saw that was blocked off before.

We know that the Inbetween isn’t what it seems, but the “truth” about the other forms... Hm. This is, in fact, another Kingdom Hearts Thing. There’s a running joke that everyone on the very large cast of characters in KH that in the end, every person is actually either secretly a version of the antagonist (through possession or body splitting or whatever), or a version of the protagonist (through similar concepts). Multiple bodies and other forms is definitely a Thing in KH, though it’s not as oh-god-not-again definitely-bad as the sleeping thing.

I think the other forms have either become reliant on the Inbetween or have forgotten everything but the Inbetween, or both. Maybe more of the prior, since the warning is against trusting the place.

And, uh, this? Fucking terrifying. I love it to pieces.

Every single one of these books has a wither rose pot, and this is kind of why I think that the Inbetween or its master/s is, in some way, possibly functioning via routines and like... an AI. Or a genius loci kind of thing.

But good news, there aren’t 13 books, there are 14! This is important for Kingdom Hearts reasons, because Kingdom Hearts has a big thing about the numbers 13 and 7 (13 is the number of pieces of darkness, and 7 is the number of pieces of light, and this is equal somehow, don’t question it).

Now, 14 is an important meme number in the MCYT fandom, of course, but I don’t think it has terribly too much to do with the lore beyond a fun easter egg.

The books themselves trying to tell c!Karl to, essentially, go with the flow and the path that the Inbetween has set up for him is... something. I like the idea that it’s some future version of something trying to stop something from happening, but we all know it’s probably not going to work. Fun times.

And finally, this.

The Inbetween is a bit of a narcissist, huh? It won’t shut up about how it’s so pretty and irresistible and the whole definition of, like, a honey trap. Oh my god it even describes it as ~mysterious~ as a good trait, that’s hilarious.

More pertinently, it also calls the Inbetween “a time traveller’s dream”.

A time traveller’s. Dream.

Again, not to push my DreamXD agenda, BUT—

But! Getting back on track, the book expresses its eagerness to see Karl again, says their relationship is gonna be great, reminds him that his stories are important, and then tells him that he needs the Inbetween/author just like the SMP needs him.

Uh. He’s going to need the Inbetween?

Hello?

Why? How? So far it’s presented itself as being pretty and perfect but it never said anything about necessity! What’s going on!

Very much reminded of how Castle Oblivion was presented as “you need to keep going in even though it takes your memories away because there’s someone you need to save [fake but you don’t know that because you don’t remember anything]”, and I am afright.

Talk about subtle strings being tugged at here. I’m really seeing the beginning seeds of a dependency thing being sown, and if it weren’t for the side books painting giant neon warning signs everywhere, I don’t know if it would’ve caught on. An artificially cultivated concept of how important and great the Inbetween is, and don’t you just want to take all those stories from that messy world elsewhere but come back here in the end to take a break and exist and explore and oh, isn’t the Inbetween great, isn’t it wonderful?

Man, c!Dream wishes he was this good at subtle manipulation.

tldr; there are multiple authors trying to tug c!Karl in different directions via those books. The Kingdom Hearts parallels predict that his memory will be at stake, and he might not be able to escape without help.

#tales from the smp #dream smp #general thoughts #the inbetween is a scary place im telling u #a Place that wants to be your friend but probably has ulterior motives? oof!!

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