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poisonofthepaint · 20 days ago

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lucky you

jack calls you in on your day off, which leads to hooking up in the on-call room, which leads to him finding your tattoo.

wc: 2.5k

cw: MDNI, semi-public sex, f!reader, age gap, pinv, oral, lmk if i'm missing anything!

The date you were heading toward was less than exciting. You knew you needed a life outside of the hospital, Dana had given you a wake up call last week. You had been working doubles like it was nothing, but this was your first day off in a while, so you figured you’d download a dating app, get a free dinner on a Friday night. Not that you couldn’t afford dinner, this was more like dinner and a show. Max was a kind guy, but you could tell he didn’t take you seriously— that he underestimated you. So this was your chance to show up a man, and have him pay for your dinner. Win win.

Then, your phone rings. The ringtone that you have set for hospital staff interrupts your music and blares through the speakers. You groan, checking to see who it was. You were surprised to see that it was Jack, you figured since he was agreeing so hard with Dana last week that he would be the last person calling you.

“It’s my day off,” you answer

“I need you here.” Jack sounds out of breath.

“Are you kidding?”

“You know I’m not. Ellis is sick, I thought we could manage but we cannot. I need you here.”

“You’re buying me dinner.” you say, exasperated.

“Gladly,” Jack ends the call.

You know he wouldn’t call you unless it was actually an emergency, Jack wasn’t like that. He wanted to be able to manage. He wanted to be able to handle it by himself. So when he calls you, it’s important. You take off the blue dress you had on, switching it out for a plain white t-shirt before throwing your scrubs on top. You grab the bookbag full of your supplies for shifts and head out of your apartment.

The hospital is only a few blocks from your apartment, so you walk. It’s a bit chilly out; the springtime air blowing through the trees. It looks like it’s gonna storm, and you get to the hospital right before it starts, ducking your head as you walk into the entrance.

The patients are grouchy in the waiting room, all groaning and yelling. The seats must��ve been taken up hours ago, there’s more people standing than sitting. You push your way through the front door.

“Good, you’re here.” Abbot was waiting at the doors like he had timed you. “You’re not supposed to wear perfume here.” he chastises.

“Had already sprayed it when you called me, figured I didn’t have time to shower.”

“Right,” his eyes catch yours and he refuses to look away. “We have a lot of injuries from a car crash. A bunch of guys were speeding on the highway and about six of them were sitting in the open truck bed. A semi driver didn’t see them swerving around and knocked them off the road.”

Jack finally breaks eye contact and walks away, you follow him back into Trauma 1. There’s a young guy, probably around twenty-three, screaming in pain. His hand is holding on by a string, like, literally. It’s barely connected.

“Noah, this is my best resident, she’s gonna take a look at you.” Jack tells him, yelling over the boy’s own screeching.

“I don’t care who she is, fix my fucking hand! I’m on a baseball scholarship!”

“I’m really glad I cancelled my date to be here.” you say, examining his arm.

“You were going on a date?” he says, you think you hear a tinge of jealousy in his voice, but you brush it off.

“Aren’t you the one who told me to go have fun?” Jack doesn’t answer, just goes back to the patient, and you do too.

There are a lot of injuries, some superficial, some very serious. Noah will lose his hand, because he was stupid. You learn that he was the driver of the truck, and that he was drinking. You try to have empathy for all of your patients, but it’s hard when they’re being willingly stupid, and killing their friends. Noah heads up into surgery, and everything is rather stable now. The ED returns to its normal business, waiting for beds upstairs, triaging emergencies from the ambulances.

You sit at your station and chart your patients, trying to remember all that happened in the whirlwind of your arrival. Jack stands right in front of you, charting as well. He looks back once, twice.

“You need something?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“Nah, just making sure you’re good.”

“I am just peachy, although I could use some dinner.” you smile up at him brightly.

He makes a noise that’s somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, “Guess I did promise.”

Jack pulls out his phone, opening DoorDash before handing it over to you. You swipe through the restaurants before you find some Chinese place that catches your eye. You put what you want in the cart before handing his phone back to him.

“Thank you, Dr. Abbot!” you get up from your seat and go to do a round of checkups.

You briefly see him shake his head as he looks down at his phone.

It’s a while before the food gets there, and even longer for the driver to argue with the nurse at triage. Jack finally sees the commotion and goes out and grabs it, apologizing to the nurse.

He calls you over and you grab the food, heading into the breakroom. You sit down and open up the paper brown bag. You think about how your night worked out, you got free dinner and a show anyway. And this was actually a show you quite enjoyed. You did love your job, maybe an unhealthy amount. But you had worked so hard to get here, and you were good at it. You were Abbot’s best resident. You were fast at assessing and scoping out which treatment would be best. You flew around the ED like it was nothing to you.

After a few minutes of eating alone, Jack came to join you, taking what he ordered out of the bag.

“So, what’s wrong with Ellis?” you pry.

“She thinks she has the flu, super high fever and throwing up.”

“Got it, just wanted to make sure this wasn’t all a ploy to get me here on my day off.”

“And if it was?” Jack asks.

You’re stunned for a second before you regain yourself, “Then I would say you’re very unprofessional, and that you’re interfering with my personal life.”

He shrugs– smirks, “You don’t want a healthy work life balance. Plus, we have fun together, don’t we?”

You try not to think about how he can read you; how he’s got you memorized like you’re the back of his hand. “We do.”

You finish your food and throw the empty container in the trash, excusing yourself. You swoop into the on-call room, trying to calm yourself. You rest your back against the door and swipe a hand down your face.

The truth is, you’ve had a crush on Jack since your first day at The Pitt. it was a schoolgirl one at first, you thought he was cute. It was fun to be attracted to your boss; to have a little work crush that you could be excited about. But then, it started getting deeper, Jack paid extra attention to you, he could tell that you actually enjoyed the ED. You were always with him on cases, he picked you for his ‘team’ during busy mass casualties. He got to know you, you got to know him. He was no longer a mysterious crush who you just thought was cute. You liked him, in a way you didn’t want to. It was distracting some days. It was even more distracting when you had a feeling you weren’t being delusional. When you wondered why he called you, a second year resident, instead of one of the seniors, or another attending.

There’s a knock at the door, and you open it, shocked to see Jack standing outside. He walks in and you allow him, moving out of the way so he can lock the door behind him. You can feel your heart in your throat. You sit down on the bed, hoping it’ll stabilize you.

There’s silence; tension you could cut with a knife. He stands with his hands resting on a countertop. The storm rages outside the window, a big crack of thunder rings throughout the room. Jack is just looking, trying to scope you out. He pushes off and approaches you. You swallow, and look down at your feet, trying to avoid eye contact, but Jack isn’t having any of it. He grabs your chin and tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him. He leans down, presses his forehead against yours. He lets his lips ghost yours— just barely.

“Tell me to stop.” he begs, out of breath, just like when he called you.

You place a hand on his neck, fingers threading lightly through the hair at the bottom, “What if I don’t want you to?” He groans, burrows his head into your neck. “I want it, Jack, of course I want it.”

That’s all it takes. His lips are on yours without another beat. The kiss is rough— needy. Your teeth clash against each other, and his tongue explores your mouth. He lays you back onto the bed and your legs open, making room for him. He settles himself and gets to work on your neck, his hand slowly slides up your shirt, resting on your stomach.

He’s still being cautious, you think. You push his hand up and he cups your breast. He makes a strained noise when he feels the lace on your bra.

“You were gonna wear that for him?” Jack asks, right into your ear.

“No, I was wearing it for myself.” an honest answer.

Jack rips your pants off and sees, what he assumes, is the matching thong. The underwear shifts down a bit, and you think Jack is gonna pass out.

Your small tattoo, a mistake from undergrad. A scripture on your hip that reads, ‘lucky you.’

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, kid.” he brushes his thumb over the words. Thinks about them. Doesn’t move for a minute.

“Good thing we’re in an emergency department.”

The nickname sends a wave of arousal through you, just like it always does. It’s how he usually referred to you during emergencies, when you’d catch something that no one else saw. It was how he praised you. You never imagined you’d hear it in this context.

Jack stands up and you whine. He quickly strips off his clothes and is back on you in a second. He rests on his stomach and kisses your tattoo sloppily.

He rips off your underwear with ferocity. You’d be smart to feel a tinge of embarrassment. He is your boss. But you don’t. This feels right, this feels good. He swipes a finger through your folds and you keen.

“So wet for me.” he mumbles.

Jack wastes no more time. His tongue makes quick work on your clit. He moves like he knows you. Like he’s done this a million times, like there’s no room for error. And there isn’t. You both knew this needed to be quick. There were patients outside of the door, and the nurses and other doctors will be wondering where you two went. He works at your clit and you try your hardest to not make any noise. He looks up at you while his tongue is buried in you, and you let out a cry. He reaches a free hand up and covers your mouth. You bite down on it and let your head fall back on the lumpy pillow.

Then, Jack pulls away. “The fuck?” you say it into his hand, so it’s a bit muffled.

“We’ve only got time for one thing. You’re gonna come when I do. Just had to get you ready.” He says.

You want to salute. You want to scream. You don’t really know how this is happening.

Jack pulls off his boxers and you gulp. You see why he needed to get you ready. The length alone was bigger than anything you’ve taken, but he was girthy too.

He pulls a condom out of a drawer in the room. “Did you stash that in here?” you laugh.

“No, they keep them in here. I always wondered why, but now I see.”

He rolls it on quickly and comes back to the bed. He rests on his heels, taking you in. “Are you sure?” Jack asks again.

“I’m positive. I’ve wanted this since I met you.”

He nods slowly, small smile coming to his lips. He moves so his hands are right next to your head. Jack lines himself up with your entrance and sinks in deep.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “So fucking tight.”

“You feel so good,” you cry.

“Yeah? This good for you?” He sets a brutalizing pace, hips never faltering. His head falls into your neck again. “Your perfume is driving me fucking crazy, sweetheart. Could smell you whipping around this hospital. Every time you passed me, I thought I was going to have to take you right there.”

He’s rambling now, you realize. Pussydrunk from how you feel.

“Maybe I’ll have to wear it more, break the rules a bit, if it leads to this.” you say, resisting the urge to moan in the middle of your sentences.

He pants, stifles his own noises. “You’re close,” you say.

“It’s been a while, every time I went on a date, I would just think of you.”

“Is that true?”

“I’m already in your pants, no reason to lie.” his hips start to stutter. “Y’gonna come with me?”

You scope out the feeling in your stomach and focus in on it, Jack brings a hand down between your bodies and starts rubbing your clit. “Fuck, God, yes. Yes, I am.”

The room is filled with heavy breaths, the air has gone thick. You spot a bolt of lightning run through the sky and grab Jack’s head, bringing his ear down to your mouth. “Now,” you whisper.

The thunder hits right as you both finish. It’s loud enough to mask the noises neither of you could hold back. He continues the pace until you come down. You both gasp into each other. Jack slowly pulls out, taking the condom over to the trash can and burying it under some paper towels.

He comes back to the bed and sits on the edge, massaging your shin. “I’m gonna make an assumption and say that was the best sex of your life,” you scoff, but don’t deny it. “But, we have to get back.”

“I know,” you say, wishing you could stay in this room forever. “God, this is really gonna fuck with my work life balance.”

Jack laughs and stands up, placing a kiss on your forehead. “C’mon, lucky girl. We’ll figure it out.”

#jack abbot x reader #dr abbot x reader #the pitt fanfiction #jack abbot smut #jack ⋆⁺₊❅. ㅤ

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nikamuhlsrealwife777 · 7 months ago

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OKAY GUYSSS, Nika's post on instagram has made me feel so much better about her. I'm sure it's still gonna be tough and all but she's resilient and will just get better than before the injury. And with that being said...

IIT GAVE ME MOTIVATION TO WRITE. So...anon who suggested this....i finally have it written. ENJOY!!

"NOTRE DAMN" - N.M.

words: 823

Warnings: none i can

Summary: Reader gets hurt while playing against Notre Dame. Nika helps her.

JANUARY 27, 2024

NOTRE DAME VS UCONN

GAMPEL

2nd quarter, 20 seconds left on the clock. We were down by three, one shot is all it took to tie it before half time. I ran up the court, finding a place to shoot if the ball was passed to me. I watched as the opposing team switched to their defense, the rest of the huskies running down the court.

Nika ran down the court, ball in hand, calling out plays. Her eyes met mine, nodding throwing me the ball. Wide open, easy shot, that’s what you’d think.

As I’m going up, a player, number 5, Olivia Miles, comes up to guard me. She jumps to block, not really slowing down. As I’m up in the air, I feel her body collide with mine. I lose hold of the ball, I fall back, my feet not able to hit the floor. My back hits the ground, my head bouncing off the court, pain shooting through my body.

I roll around trying to find a position that doesn’t cause pain, but anyway that I move it hurts. My head throbbing, back aching, I felt nothing but pain. I felt someone place they’re hand on my head, I opened my eyes. Nika.

“Hey, baby, you alright?” She was worried, I couldn’t even put together the words to make her feel better.

“My head…it hurts,” I manage out, Nika nodding. She helps me up, giving me a look. I couldn’t tell what she was getting at.

“You want me to carry you over to the bench?” I nod, my body felt like I was going to drop with just standing. She picks me, holding me bridal style, walking me over to the bench.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby, okay?” Nika’s voice soft, I nodded in response. She was weirdly calm, but I wasn’t paying attention to that.

She placed a kiss on my forehead, “They have no shot at winning this, we’ll win this for you,” her smile blinding yet comforting. I nodded.

“I know you will, niks.”

And the team did just that, Nika especially. She locked down on Miles, causing her to become frustrated, fouling out. As it was announced that she had fouled out, Nika sent me a look, a smile plastered on her face. I just laughed. She sent me a thumbs up, a look of concern on her face. I sent her one back, she nods. The rest of the game, flawless from UConn side. Shots falling in, defense never backing down, and everything was being done by everyone. This game had to have been the best game ever played by this team ever.

Paige hitting six threes, a total of 27 points, a couple blocks. The freshman totaling 30 points together. Then, there was Nika. 18 points, four threes and 5 steals. Her adding up on her assists with 11 in this game. A double-double, to say the least, I was proud of her.

“Best game ever! You played so well, Niks!” I walked over to her, bringing her into a hug. She nuzzled her head into my neck.

“Mhmm, all for you, y/n,” I blushed, melting into the hug more. She lifts her head up, her hand finding it’s place on my cheek, “You feel alright?”

I nod, “Better, but they think I have a concussion.” Her face dropped slightly; I wouldn’t be able to play a couple games with her.

“Hey, it’s alright,” I said, her eyes never leaving mine, “It’s the better outcome then what it could’ve been.”

“You not having a concussion?”

I swat at her arm, “No, Nika,” I laugh, “I was scared I did something to my back or my neck. They said that it might just be some bruising.”

She nods, her smile returning, “That’s good news.”

“Why are you so smiley?”

“I’m here with you.”

I blush, “I would kiss you right now.”

“Do it.”

“Nika…people would find ou-“

“I don’t care about other people; I care about you. I want you to kiss me,” I hesitated, she took that as her sign to kiss me. In the room full of people, she kissed me. After hiding for months, she’s finally kissed me in public where people could see.

“Why? Why’d you do that?”

“I love you more than my reputation,” she paused, “Which reminds me…I said a lot of things to get under Olivia’s skin so.”

I tilt my head, “And what exactly did you say?”

“Too much to say now, we should go with the team,” She begins to pull me towards the team, her hand interlocked with mine.

Paige sees us, a smile big on her face, “Y’all’s kiss made it on TV!”

I look over at Nika, a smile resting on her face, “Good, then everyone will know not to screw around with my girl,” She looks at me, “How do you feel about that, the kiss on TV?”

“Everyone will know I’m the luckiest person ever.”

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A/N: if this happens to be trash....i'm sorry

#nika muhl #wbb #wnba basketball #wcbb #wnba #wnba players #uconn wbb #womens basketball #nika muhl x reader #wbb x reader

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 5 days ago

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Who Is In Control? (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Black!F!Villain!Reader x Hunter!Gojo Satoru

Synopsis: Sung Jinwoo is the highest-ranking hunter and the most powerful human being humanity has ever seen. So is Gojo Satoru. Both cocky, both confident, and both eager for more power, they compete against each other for each gate that seems to get more dangerous the farther and higher they go. They figure your gate won’t be any different and that you will be the usual big baddie that they need to take care of. Another cog in the system. Until they manage to beat you and find out who you truly are behind your facade. Now the hunters are hellbent on keeping you to themselves. So, what’s another friendly competition? Only this time, the prize is you.

Chapter Warnings: MILD SPOILERS, Elf!Reader; Kidnapping, Bondage, Manipulation, Hypnosis, Aphrodisiacs/Drugging, Coercion, Dubcon/R*pe, Everybody is HORNY; Touch-Starved!Reader; Drugged!Jinwoo & Gojo

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Got another chapter for y'all! We bout to get into the SMUTTY SHIT next chapter! Enjoy & DON'T SPOIL SINNERS!!! -Jazz

CHAPTERS: PREFACE. ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR. FIVE. SIX.

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

THREE: A HOSTAGE SITUATION?

Gojo has never been the one to think much of Gate Bosses. But you? You’re quite the cutie.

He watches you now as Jinwoo kneels behind you, tying your wrists to a pillar holding up the crystalline-windowed, domed ceiling of your castle. You are out cold, your hair covering your face as your head hangs low, your chest rising and falling evenly under your chestplate.

Gojo would have preferred to have kept the armor off after assessing the damage of your right side, but Jinwoo refused. “I’m not a pervert,” he harrumphed. Gojo just rolled his eyes, knowing he was full of the purest shit.

The only things not covered are your pointed elven ears which Gojo finds oddly adorable. He can’t remember the last time he was so taken with a Boss…actually, come to think of it, he can’t remember even really looking at a Boss. They are all just cogs in a machine for him. Obstacles in the way of his destination and prize.

But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t noticed those brief moments where Bosses seem to glitch if Gojo asks them why they are there. Or the way their words and movements seem rehearsed. Or why he and Jinwoo are the only S-ranking hunters who seem to understand that something is wrong. He had a hunch the moment he discovered Jinwoo, someone almost as powerful as him and seems to keep leveling up. Just like Gojo.

Hence why Gojo flew to China as soon as the Heroes Guild called him up. While he is ever so grateful to “the system” for the popularity and celebrity status, he is also a nosey bitch and someone who doesn’t like being deceived. If something or someone is behind this, he wants to know. And he has a hunch that you can help him figure that out.

He will admit that the instant you passed out, he was more than happy to off you and jump to the next level in the system. “Good, she’s out! Let’s kill her while we’ve got the chance!” But Jinwoo stopped him by stepping in front of him. “Hang on, greedy,” he protests. “That ain’t fair. First of all, you’re not winning this, and secondly, you can’t kill her when she’s in this state.”

Gojo scowled down at you unconscious and then at his colleague. “And why the hell not?” he scoffed. “She tried to kill us first!”

“Because she was forced!” Jinwoo argued, narrowing his blue eyes at the silver-haired hunter. “Didn’t you hear her? Something is making her do this.” Gojo cocked his head to the side, smirking at Jinwoo. “How do you know that? What, that face and her kiss make you change your mind?”

Jinwoo’s jaw tensed, but he ignored Gojo’s sly remark. Sometimes, Gojo just can’t help but pick at people. He has chalked it up to his genetic makeup. Truthfully, he only said that to take his mind off of the way your kiss and your face made him feel: hot in the face, tingly all over, cock throbbing and practically leaking for you. Not to mention his pounding heart and the swarming butterflies in his stomach.

“You’re the one who said all of this isn’t a coincidence,” Jinwoo firmly stated. “I’ve had many run-ins with Bosses who’ve said the same thing she just did. She and every other Boss in this system is being controlled by someone or something. Now, if you wanna find that out and how the fuck this shit is run, then you’d better spare her.” That led to Gojo giving in and helping Jinwoo carry you off to your castle curiosity of his and Jinwoo’s teleportation abilities.

Gojo watches as you slumber now, admiring the way your lashes fan across your cheeks and how your lips part. Even your ears twitch! ‘So fuckin’ cute,’ he thinks. He is fairly sure that your aphrodisiac powers have a lot to do with his newfound feelings for you, but admittedly, your remorse and immediate surrender had their effect too. He felt oddly sympathetic for you. Protective, even. You’re a firecracker, but also small and vulnerable. Who or what exactly is making you do this like Jinwoo said?

“That should help her side.” Gojo blinks, realizing that Jinwoo is kneeling in front of you with a tiny body of healing elixir. He tilts your chin up and carefully dribbles the purple liquid into your mouth, tilting your head back to swallow it. Gojo’s eyes tick down to the wound at your side, swelling red and punctured with a tiny cut. As soon as the elixir is in you, he can see the swelling start to go down and the cut vanishes.

Gojo watches Jinwoo squat in front of you, his nose inches from yours. “You think she was telling the truth earlier?” he asks. “About being forced to kill us?” Jinwoo gives him a look riddled in seriousness and something darker than Gojo can’t identify. “I do, and I think we’re close to finding out why.” He then lays a hand on your shoulder and, with flashing blue eyes, commands for you to awaken.

“Wakey, wakey,” he whispers, his voice echoing and appearing to be coming from the walls too.

Immediately, you startle awake with a gasp of air and look around the room. When your eyes register on the two hunters, you damn near have a heart attack. “Where am I?!” you screech. “What did you do to me?!” You begin yanking at your restraints, growing more and more frantic.

Gojo decides to step in, shoving Jinwoo out of the way. “Hold up, hold up, cutie,” he soothes, his voice gentle and soft. “Relax. Chill out. It’s all okay.” He doesn’t know why seeing you so frightened makes him so adamant to soothe you, but suddenly, his hand is on your arm and he is exuding as much of his energy as he can. He keeps himself calm and envisions ocean waves to pass on to you, making you relax.

Soon, your screaming ceases, your breathing evens, and your body untenses. “Take a deep breath,” he orders. You do so, your chest expanding. “And breathe out.” Your chest deflates like a balloon, a tiny sigh leaving your soft lips. Gojo smiles proudly at you. “That’s a good…” He stops himself, almost saying ‘girl’. Jinwoo kneels next to you, holding another tiny bottle filled with a blue liquid. “You’re still a little hot. Here, drink this.” You narrow your eyes at the bottle, suspicious. “Relax, it’s not poison. It’s a cooling elixir.”

To prove his word, he takes a sip of it, his Adam’s Apple bobbing. “See? Tastes like apples.” He then coaxes you to tilt your head back and brings the bottle to your lips to gently pour a stream into your mouth. Gojo feels oddly jealous especially when you begin to drink so eagerly, your lips suckling on the bottle’s nozzle. “Mmm, good, right?” Jinwoo chuckles. “Not too fast. You’ll get addicted.”

After some time, Jinwoo pulls the bottle away and caps it while you lick your lips clean. You look much calmer now though still slightly apprehensive. Understandable. Jinwoo clears his throat, puncturing the silence. “Well, now that you’re awake, I believe introductions are in order.” He presses a hand over his heart, giving you a small, friendly smile. “I’m Jinwoo Sung. S-rank hunter.”

You stare at the hunter, wide-eyed and bewildered, before Gojo garners your attention with a wave. “Gojo Satoru, S-rank hunter and the top one in Japan.” Jinwoo side-eyes him, but he ignores it. “You got a name, cutie?” The name just slips out of Gojo’s mouth, surprising even himself. He can feel his face flame as a blush rises to his cheeks. What the fuck is wrong with him? He is never this frazzled around girls!

“Y-Y/N,” you stammer, blinking in confusion at the hunters. “You…you saved me? I’m not dead?” You look so relieved that Gojo has to laugh. “Seems to me someone was scared of gettin’ turned into your soldier, Jin.” Jinwoo cuts him a sharp glance, ignoring him. “No, you’re not dead,” he answers you, “but don’t be too grateful. We still have some questions for you, and we believe you owe us since you tried to kill us and all.”

Surprisingly, you don’t put up a fight or argue. You don’t deny it either. You look defeatedly up at them and Gojo just wants to scoop you up, put you in his pocket, and take you away. “What do you wish to know?” you sigh.

But even so, they still need answers. “What exactly is this place?” Gojo asks though not as harshly as before. “Why’s everything so fucked up? You said before that you’re being forced to do this. Do you have any idea why?”

You open your mouth to reply, but suddenly, in a flash, fear registers across your face. You look as if you have just been caught in something you shouldn’t have been. “I…I don’t know if I can talk,” you fearfully whisper. Gojo and Jinwoo share a look, both knowing that they are thinking the same thing: you are telling the truth. “Just say what you can,” Jinwoo encourages you.

You still look perturbed and disturbed as you stare at the two, not as if you can’t trust them, but as if you can’t trust them to save you from whatever it is that’s bothering you. Gojo watches your face, noticing your drawn brows, wavering eyes, and your bottom lip drawn between your teeth. You are scared. He can feel it radiating off of you. He knows Jinwoo can feel it too judging by his silence.

“I don’t remember my life before this,” you finally say. “Just bits and pieces of light and memories that I’m not even sure are mine. All I remember is being here one day and hearing one thought in my head: kill all humans.”

Gojo and Jinwoo once again share a knowing glance. “So it’s the same as the others,” Jinwoo realizes, referring to the other Bosses who have uttered this between battles. Gojo has heard them too, but never thought much of it until now. He always thought that it was just the usual BS that villains utter. But now he realizes that they were all programmed that way literally.

You finally snap out of your state and scowl up at the hunters. “Why are you asking me this anyway?” you demand. Gojo is more than happy to fill you in. “Because we’re two hunters who died during their raves and were brought back to life for some reason by the system. It’s the system that you’ve been fighting for.”

You blink at him, confusion registering across your cute face. You then look down at the marbled floor as if that holds the answer. “I-I don’t understand,” you murmur. You then groan in agony, leaning your head back against the pillar. “Oh, my head,” you groan.

“Now, now, none of that.” Gojo is gentle but firm, bringing your attention back to reality and away from your hurting noggin. Mostly because he doesn’t want to think about how much he wants to make you groan in pleasure instead. “So you don’t remember anything before you became a crazy bitch?” he questions. Both you and Jinwoo glare at him for the terminology. “Not really, no,” you reply. “Just that I’m powerful, and I’m all alone in this world.”

As soon as the sad, tragic words are out, your eyes well up with tears and you begin to cry. Gojo is startled by your demeanor change and looks to Jinwoo for help. The black-haired hunter looks just as clueless and alarmed at seeing you cry.

“I didn’t wanna kill either of you, I swear! I don’t want to do any of this!” Small sobs escape you, wracking your whole tiny body, making you shake. “I’m so, so sorry,” you lament. “If you have to end me, just do it now and do it quick. I just want to be away from here.”

You sound so broken, so defeated, and so damn open that Gojo has no choice but to melt. This person now, with her elven ears and eyes welled up with fat, wet tears, is the real you. The you beyond the person he was fighting before. The you that the system has manipulated and controlled for who knows how long. He knows you are telling the truth.

And now, he can’t resist the urge not to keep you safe. Wordlessly, he moves behind you and begins to untie the knot that Jinwoo tied, much to your shock. “What are you–”

“Stop cryin’,” he orders. Though his voice is firm, it is soft and gentle. “Death ain’t on the table anymore.”

“What?” both you and Jinwoo say in unison. Both of you are confused and very suspicious of Gojo’s sudden turn. And with good reason too! He was just hellbent on killing you earlier!

“I can tell you’re being honest,” he explains, still untying the rope from your wrists. “And plus, I can’t act like harming such a pretty little thing wouldn’t haunt me for all my days.” The rope falls from your wrists and you turn to face him, even as you rub your stinging wrists. There is an innocence in your eyes that excites Gojo…turns him on. “You know, for a villain, you’re kinda cute,” he murmurs.

The air has now changed. It is thick with tension and all three of you can feel it. Your brows knit in confusion and despite your milky brown skin tone, he can tell you are flushed. As flushed as he is with his pinked cheeks that become a deeper shade of rose the more he stares at you. And the more he stares, the cuter you get. “W-Why are you saying this?” you stammer.

Gojo quirks a silver brow at you. “Why do you think? Did you forget about that little sneak attack you did on me and Jinwoo?”

Realization clears the fog over your eyes and you sigh, looking ashamed. “It’s an aphrodisiac,” you explain, referring to the kiss attack. “It helps me weaken my prey.”

Gojo chuckles at this, loving the way the tips of your ears turn a shade darker than the rest of you. You may act all tough and hard, but really, you’re just a touch-starved little sweetie.

“Seems to me that you’re the prey now, cutie,” Gojo teases. He offers a hand to you, wanting to help you stand due to your legs not being used for a bit. Hesitantly, you take his big hand in your smaller one and stand on your stiff bones.

The two hunters stand with you, their eyes locked dead on you. “I knew I wasn’t crazy,” Jinwoo says, mostly to himself. He too is flushed, his cheeks tinged a slight pink. “I was wondering why I got so…so…”

“Hard?” Gojo finishes, flashing him a wolfish grin. “And suddenly wanting to put this slutty girl into a bed? The feeling is mutual.” He watches as your ears twitch and your eyes grow soft at the forbidden word. Your subtle reaction only makes him pulse and throb more. “Aw, what’s the matter? Don’t like bein’ called a slut?”

“Mm-mm,” Jinwoo protests, shaking his head. “More like she does. It’s a front.” He stares at you like one would stare at a dessert plate. He looks at you like the sweet, delicious thing that you are. “And I don’t need to use my powers to read that.” His voice has dipped lower than the naturally deep tone he already has, no doubt making your body tingle.

Gojo takes a chance and inches closer to you, standing behind you. Jinwoo takes the opposite side and stands in front of you, your face barely brushing his chest while your scalp reaches just above Gojo’s chest. You are now sandwiched between the two hunters with no place to go…unless you were to use some of your fancy abilities. But you’re not and Gojo has a hunch as to why.

He ever so gently trails his fingertips up your forearm. You flinch, letting out a tiny gasp that makes him bite back a laugh. “Don’t–”

“Don’t…what?” he prompts. “Hm? Do you really think we don’t know that you want this?”

He feels your muscles tense under his feather-soft touch, but you don’t fight him or shrug him off. Your skin is so soft…supple…hot to the touch. “You were probably sooo hot at the thought of us comin’ here for you, hoping to put you out of your misery.”

He can hear the tiny intakes of breath that you take between your soft lips, your breasts rapidly rising and falling. You need this just as much as he does. Even someone in the next dimension could see that you’re totally and utterly touch-starved.

‘Poor baby,’ Gojo thinks, feeling his cock twitch in his pants. He can only imagine how lonely and deprived you must have felt being isolated in such a place.

But no longer. Not on his watch. “Maybe we just might do that, but you need to stop denying yourself first.” His hand slides down to your hand, interlacing his long, piano fingers with his. You allow him, your smaller fingers locked with his. He can only imagine how that pretty hand would look wrapped around his or Jinwoo’s cocks.

“So can you be good and keep quiet about this?” he asks, his words ghosting across your earlobe. “Can you agree to everything we say, pretty girl?” Jinwoo silently stares at you, not saying anything, but he doesn’t have to. His intense gaze is asking you the same exact thing, never wavering or leaving your face.

And to the hunters’ surprise, they hear you say, though softly and so inaudibly that it might as well be the wind, a willing, desperate, needy little “yes”.

**********

Taglist: @leviackerman2030 @emonaculate @lnette04

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #black writers #my fic shit #jjk smut #poly smut #solo leveling smut #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo smut #solo leveling x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru #sung jin woo #anime crossover #anime smut

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rwshfordgirl · 5 months ago

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4. Peace and love summary: jealousy on christmas eve, seriously? word counter: 1.277 pairing: jude bellingham X reader a/n: ladies and gentlemen, we have here a jude bellingham who is not lazy about driving.

🎄 christmas prompts 🎄

yn and jude went to the market to buy ingredients for the dessert she will take to the christmas dinner at her fiancé's family's house. this dessert is her mother-in-law's favorite and she makes it every year. It's become a tradition since the first christmas they spent together. yn thinks it's incredible because she managed to win over her mother-in-law through her belly even though she only knows how to make desserts and well, her brother-in-law was the only one who didn't like her cooking, but she says he talks badly about her food out of spite.

but they were both happy, back in their hometown and ready for another christmas together.

"i'll get the butter." i said to jude who nodded and continued his job of picking bananas. "jesus, why did they put the butter so high up?" yn said to herself when she saw that the butter was on a higher shelf than normal. she couldn't even reach it on her tiptoes.

she was about to call jude but someone came up behind her and took what she wanted so much. "here." a tall man who looked a little like jude handed her the butter. "oh, thanks!" she smiled simply. "you're welcome! the marketemployees forget that there are short people like you." he joked. "hey, I'm not even that short." yn laughed and put her hand on the necklace she had with bellingham's initial on it.

and speaking of bellingham, even 20 feet away from where the love of his life was, he was keeping an eye on the stranger's interaction with her. he didn't know whether to tie the bag of bananas or pay attention to their body posture, since he couldn't hear anything.

"so, thank you again." yn already had her hand on the cart ready to find jude. "just wait a second, let me remember where we know each other from." the man left yn confused. "i don't think we've met before." he smiled. "you're right, a face as beautiful as yours is unforgettable."yn felt embarrassed and even more eager to get back to jude. "i'm going to try to guess your name, from your necklace it starts with a j, right?" he asked "no, that's the initial of my fiancé's name." the man scratched his head and yn turned towards jude who was walking towards her and with his eyes fixed on the man "oh, sorry! merry christmas." the man said and left before jude even arrived.

jude is not a jealous guy, he trusts yn too much but something about this situation made him uncomfortable. the way that guy looked at yn and the way she smiled at him. bellingham was jealous and upset.

"did you know him?" jude asked as he put the bananas in the cart. "no, what a crazy guy." yn commented as she pushed the cart "can we go?" jude just nodded.

they paid for their purchases at the checkout, put them in the trunk, and got into the car in silence. jude seemed angry and didn't even look at yn, who didn't understand his behavior at all. "did something happen to you that i didn't see?" jude glared at yn and laughed mockingly. "Isn't seeing my fiancée flirting with another guy enough of a reason to be upset?" yn was speechless, her eyes fixed on the car window. jude started the vehicle.

the girl's eyes were watering. never in six years of relationship had she seen jude say such an atrocity. "why the hell, do you think i was flirting with him?" yn asked. "you were there, all happy, talking to him, all smiles." bellingham's complaint was nonsensical. "he helped me get what i needed and i couldn't reach it. do i have to be rude to people who help me?" yn crossed her arms and the way she spoke showed how incredulous she was. "you're so nice to everyone." jude commented. "and since when has that been a problem for you?" jude didn't answer, he just laughed mockingly.

yn was sad, really sad. it felt like her heart had been pierced. she cried in the passenger seat. when they arrived at the bellingham's house where they were staying, she ran out of the car, slammed the door and thanked the heavens that she hadn't run into anyone when she ran through the entrance of the house. the girl soon locked herself in the bathroom in the room where she had been sleeping for that week.

jude thought he was right without even knowing what had happened there. he grabbed the groceries from the car, went home and found his brother and mother in the kitchen. "where's yn?" was the first thing her brother asked. "probably packing to go back to her house." jude said as he sat down on a stool. "what?" His mother screamed in fright. "she was flirting with a guy at the market." jude commented. "what do you mean, jude?" his mother stopped everything she was doing when she heard this. "she was being so cute with him." He said "jude, did you see? did you hear what they were saying?" jude shook his head. "did you talk to her? what did she say?" his mother asked. "she said she was being polite to him because he had helped her." jude replied "and why didn't you believe that?" his mother and brother looked at him in complete shock.

jude didn't know how to answer. he really didn't know. it seemed like something inside him just wanted to fight. jude isn't like that, they don't fight like that, they don't feel jealous like that.

jude realized what he had done and ran to the room. apparently yn didn't pack her bags. he saw the bathroom door closed and immediately assumed she was there. "yn? please open the door." he knocked on the door and got no answer. "yn, please, i'm sorry, let's talk." he leaned his head against the door. "i'm going to talk to your family and i'm leaving." she said in a choked voice. "are you crazy? It's snowing outside." jude replied "just come out so we can talk." he said "you don't trust me anymore. what do you want to hear?"

bellingham sat with his back to the door "i trust you, i trust you with my eyes closed. but i don't know yn, i don't know what happened to me today i just felt jealous of you." jude said "i've never felt jealous like that, i felt it very close to you." he continued "but i would never, under any circumstances, flirt with another man. you didn't want to believe what i told you, you didn't want to listen to me." yn said "i know baby girl, i know." jude was as sad as yn now "something evil whispered in my ear." yn laughed for the first time through her tears. "i love you yn, please forgive me." yn opened the door slowly and saw the groom sitting on the floor.

she sat down next to him and bellingham held her hand. "if you do that again, i'll leave you forever." yn joked. "you hurt me. seeing you suspicious of me almost made me walk away in the snow on christmas eve." yn admitted. "i wasn't going to let you walk through that door." jude kissed her on the forehead. "the way you were, you would still make fun of me leaving."

"do you forgive me?" he asked "yes, i forgive you." yn gave him a peck on the lips "my mom and jobe will be happy about that." yn laughed "you already told them?"

#football imagine #football one shot #football x reader #football blurb #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham fluff #christmas prompts

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libraryofgage · 6 months ago

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PJO Steddie Eight

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

This series was line-jumped on ko-fi! Thank you for the ko-fis <3

To learn more about line-jumping, please refer to this post

Anyway, another series was also line-jumped and I'm hoping to have that one posted by this time next week as long as life doesn't take me out lmao

as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :^)

-----

Steve is an awful, horrible, terrible person. Not only did he kiss Eddie without making sure it was okay, but he even spent the entire fight before that wrapping lightning around Eddie. He even let his control slip enough to shock Eddie when he was too distracted by lips and teeth and tongue. Worst of all, he can't stop thinking about it, his fingers twitching every so often with the urge to find Eddie and kiss him until they're both stupid.

What's he supposed to do in this situation? Talk to Eddie like he's an emotionally mature person capable of communicating his thoughts and feelings? Steve would laugh at the thought if he weren't so busy sulking by the lake.

It's a nice night for a sulk. The moon is full, its reflection wavering in the water that gently laps against the shore. He can barely hear the victory celebration around the bonfire, singing and laughter and joyful white noise drifting through the trees behind him. Steve lets it wash over him, his chin on his knees as he stares blankly at the water and tries to figure out what he's doing with his life.

“I gotta admit, that is some impressive sulking.”

Steve jolts, twisting around to see a man in cut-off shorts and a crop top lounging on a boulder next to him. The man looks chiseled, but not overly buff, with his arms being the most defined. His skin is a deep brown, and his smile is blinding. He appeared out of nowhere, and if that didn't give away his godliness, the bow and heart-tipped arrows would have.

“Eros,” Steve says, forcing his shoulders to relax. “What are you doing here?”

“Not even a hello? Am I not pretty enough for you right now?” Eros asks.

“Hello, Eros. What are you doing here?”

That earns him a laugh, the sound lingering in Steve's ears and trying to worm its way into his brain. “Fair enough,” Eros says, idly twirling one of his arrows between his fingers. “I’m here on my mother’s behalf, actually.”

Steve tenses, studying Eros with renewed suspicion. “What does Aphrodite want?” he asks.

“You know Mother and her wagers,” Eros replies, shrugging when he meets Steve’s gaze. “She’s sent me to make sure she wins it. Her wager, that is. The one about you and a certain son of Hermes.”

That does absolutely nothing to assuage Steve’s worries. In fact, it makes them stronger. He pushes himself up, brushing pebbles and dirt off his jeans. “I hope you’re not planning to use your arrows.”

Eros blinks, looking from Steve to the arrow he’s been twirling. And then he laughs again, nearly doubling over. “No, no, I wouldn’t waste an arrow on you two. Puh-lease, Sparky, give me a little more credit than that.”

“Sparky?”

“Isn’t it fitting?” Eros asks, flashing a shit-eating grin that still manages to come off as charming. Steve would call it impish and mischievous, if someone asked him. Thankfully, nobody is. “Anyway, no, consider this more of a friendly nudge so Mother doesn’t throw a fit.”

“What are you even trying to nudge me about?” Steve asks. He thinks he’s lost the plot somewhere between Eros showing up and getting called Sparky.

Eros sighs and looks up at the sky like the stars will help him. “I usually enjoy watching people dance around each other, but I’d greatly appreciate it if you and Eddie could start dancing with each other now. Preferably starting tonight. Selene has given you a particularly beautiful moon to work with, you know.”

Steve looks up at the moon for less than a second, but that’s more than enough for Eros to be gone by the time he looks back. He sighs, frowning at the vacant boulder.

He isn’t stupid. He knows what Eros was getting at. The thought is just terrifying, is all. He doesn’t trust himself to not hurt Eddie. Just being around Eddie makes his fingertips buzz with energy, and his control has slipped more in the past few weeks than ever before. Eddie might say he doesn’t mind or that he trusts Steve, but the problem is that Steve doesn’t trust himself.

That fact just frustrates him more. He frowns, runs a hand through his hair, and sits down on the boulder. Steve would love to just throw caution to the wind. He’d love to just hope for the best and hold Eddie’s hand and not worry about things. But that’s not the kind of person he is. Steve does what’s best for those around him, he works himself into a frenzy thinking about their safety, and doesn’t hesitate to sacrifice himself in the process.

It’s probably not healthy, but it’s kept him and the kids alive and mostly happy, and that’s what really matters.

Right?

Right.

But gods is that tiring. Maybe...maybe he can be a tiny bit selfish. He won't throw caution to the wind, but maybe he can test the waters. And if nothing explodes on him, he can see where it goes.

-----------------

Eddie is almost impressed by how well Steve can avoid a person when he puts his mind to it. He hasn’t seen a glimpse of the other boy since he ran off. And it’s not for lack of trying, either. Eddie has practically scoured the camp from top to bottom as everyone else helped set up the Victory Bonfire.

He ultimately decides that searching like this is pointless, so he finds a scrap of paper in his tent and folds it into an airplane. He writes Steve’s name on one wing and doodles a guitar and bat on the other before sending it flying. It’s not the flashiest power a demigod can receive from their parent, but Eddie has never been happier to have it as he follows.

The paper airplane leads him past the huge bonfire, skirts around the woods, and really starts to pick up speed as it gets closer to the lake. A wave of relief surges through Eddie when he sees a familiar figure past the tree line. Before the plane can zoom onto the rocky beach, Eddie snatches it from the air and shoves it into his pocket.

Steve is sitting on a boulder by the lake, knees pulled up to his chest as he stares out at the water. For a moment, Eddie gets the feeling he’d like to just sink into the water and disappear for a while. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea if Steve was a Poseidon kid, but he’s more likely to drown than find peace as a son of Zeus.

Eddie hesitates, wondering if he should interrupt, when Steve looks over his shoulder at him and says, “Hey.”

That’s all the invitation Eddie needs for tension to drain from his shoulders as he walks over. “Hey,” he says, climbing the rock to sit next to Steve. They’re not close enough for their shoulders to brush, but a small lean is all it would take. “You’re missing out on some legendary s’mores at the bonfire.”

Steve snorts, propping his chin on his knees. He’s silent for a few seconds before whispering, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Stevie, I’m fine,” Eddie promises, leaning forward so he can get a better look at Steve’s expression. His eyebrows are pulled together, and Eddie has to suppress the urge to rub his thumb over the wrinkle that forms between them. “You didn’t actually hurt me, you know.”

“You were surrounded by lightning, Eddie,” Steve says, frowning at him. “You probably have a burn somewhere you can’t see. It couldn’t have been good for your heart, either.”

No, it probably wasn’t good for Eddie’s heart, but not for the reason Steve is worrying about. Eddie got too excited fighting with Steve; the lightning that crackled and arched between them made his adrenaline surge. For the first time, he actually enjoyed combat instead of dreading it.

“Well, let’s check,” he says, sliding off the boulder. Before Steve can question him, he shrugs off his vest and yanks his shirt over his head. He holds his arms out to the side and looks at Steve expectantly. “Go ahead.”

A few seconds pass before Steve gets off the rock and moves to stand behind him. Eddie can feel Steve’s eyes passing over every inch of his back, searching meticulously for any signs of lightning-related injury. When a few silent minutes pass without finding anything, Steve stands in front of him to continue his search.

Eddie gets to watch him in return this time. Steve’s lips press together when he’s concentrating, his eyebrows twitching and shifting with whatever thoughts are passing through his head. He stands with one hand on his hip, the other hovering as though he wants to brush his fingers across any suspected bruises.

“See?” Eddie says, “All good. You didn’t hurt me, Stevie.”

A few seconds pass before Steve slowly exhales and nods, tension draining from his shoulders. “What about your heart?” he asks, glancing at Eddie’s chest.

It’s such a perfect invitation, isn’t it? Eddie would be a fool to not take advantage, right? He’s not always the smoothest demigod in camp, but even he can see the perfect moment in front of him.

He grins and takes Steve’s hand, bringing it to his chest. He places Steve’s palm over his heart. “What do you think?” he asks.

Steve frowns, tilting his head slightly. “Your heart is beating faster,” he says, looking up with concern clear in his eyes.

“That’s not because of lightning, sweetheart.”

Eddie feels the exact moment Steve understands what he means. It’s the moment his control slips just enough for a tiny spark to pass from palm to chest. It makes Eddie’s skin prickle as he grins.

“Sorry,” Steve whispers, trying to pull his hand away.

Eddie holds tighter, stepping closer until Steve is leaning against the boulder with nowhere to go. “I like when you shock me. It doesn’t hurt. It tingles, but it doesn’t hurt. In fact, it felt good when you kissed me,” he says.

“I’m sorry about that, too,” Steve says, grimacing as he looks at the lake over Eddie’s shoulder. “I didn’t…I should’ve asked.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie tells him, leaning in until their noses are almost brushing.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, Stevie. In case you couldn’t tell by now, I like like you. Since the moment I saw you, really.”

Steve blinks, and then he starts laughing. “Really? Like like? What, are we in middle school?” he asks.

“You can’t knock the simplicity of the middle school confession, sweetheart. It’s got no room for misunderstanding.”

With an amused eye roll, Steve says, “Sure, if you say so.” He’s still smiling, his gaze focused on Eddie now instead of the lake. A faint blush has colored his cheeks. “In that case, I like like you, too.”

Eddie grins. “Does that mean I can kiss you now?”

In answer, Steve places his free hand on Eddie’s shoulder and tugs him the last few inches closer. Their lips connect, a tiny static shock passing between them and making Eddie shudder. He pushes closer before Steve can pull away, trapping Steve’s hand between them and bracing himself on the boulder.

The kiss starts and stays slow, a gentle push and pull. Eddie would be happy if it never ended, but Steve pulls away after a few seconds. "You're sure?" he asks.

"Yeah, Stevie, I'm sure," Eddie promises, studying him for a moment before pulling back and leading Steve away from the boulder. "Wanna dance?"

"There's no music," Steve says.

"Who cares?" Eddie asks, tugging Steve closer. He watches Steve glance up at the moon, hesitating for a few seconds before nodding. "Just follow my lead."

Steve smiles, letting Eddie lead him along the beach, dancing to music he can't hear.

------

Tag List

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd,

@weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13,

@a-little-unsteddie, @itsall-taken, @queenie-ofthe-void, @tinyplanet95, @littlebluejane,

@hangoversandhandgrenades, @rabbitwhoeatsstars, @bisexualdisastersworld, @steddieinthesun, @paintgonewrong,

@sadcanadianwinter, @deehellcat, @blanketlicker, @angrydonutdestiny, @booksareportal,

@fallingchemicaldiscos, @am-i-obssed-probably, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @estrellami-1, @fandomcartographer,

@steddie-as-they-go, @cris-wants-a-word, @potato-of-the-lord, @plasticcrotches, @enigmahaze,

@melodymeddler, @lololol-1234, @sageclipse, @steddiehyperfixation, @livelaughlexa,

@genderless-spoon, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @r0binscript, @thelittleclare, @blondie1006,

@bxnghy

#steddie #steddie fic #semi divine steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #pjo au #percy jackson au #stranger things #my writing

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minikoko-a · 2 months ago

Note

Kates literally so amazing I love her sm, my girl deserves more recognition.😤😤💗Buuut im feeling angsty wuh luh wuh lately, can I have hcs for the girlies (Jane, Nina and Kate) having a one-sided crush on fem proxy! reader?? M imagino a reader como alguien que intenta mantener q todo esté en orden entre los Creepypastas, quizás alguien burbujeante, servicial y amable?? Pero tmb se cansa seguido pq imagino q no debe ser fácil lidiar con... asesinos, yyy tmb pensé en q reader podría estar enamorada d otro Creepypasta o q directamente no está interesada en el romance

If winners love winning why do they keep losing😔😔🙏🏻

OH MY GOD

one-sided crush on fem proxy reader? OHOHOHO i put the two options that you said and also i added one sooo ehe.

sorry for the delay!

thanks for your request

hope you like it! <3

i love you but you do? — jane the killer, nina the killer and kate the chaser x proxy!fem!reader (individually)

angst, wlw, mentions of obsession but not as such

Jane the killer

my pretty woman.

why? that's the question of every single day.

she never thought she would find love, much less in her situation.

she had already questioned herself about her sexuality and she affirmed that she's lesbian.

within the domains of slenderman/the operator, there were the killers and proxies.

she's ware that something with you was simply difficult, bordering on the impossible.

you met so casually within the standards of both reality ehe.

despite her deep burns, a look of alarm and frustration could be seen on her face, but she remained still when she saw that you continued with your thing.

a few minutes ago she was ready to attack you but you managed to take her knife away in just six moves.

"i don't mind, okay? i'm just cleaning myself up, i'll leave you alone" the tone of your voice was... calm, soft, something very rare coming from the proxies. Jane grabbed her mask tightly and put it back on.

"who are you?" her hands were discreetly taking her knife back.

"a proxy, i think that's what you call us, who are you?" You looked at her with a smile that was barely curved "by the way, you're so gorgeous!" but unknowingly, that was her symbol of doom.

she rarely managed to find you, you were always out of the forest or with one of the other proxies.

but it was hard to find you.

TALKING ABOUT OTHER PROXIES.

more than once she thought that you were with Kate.

she saw from afar how the two of you got along, it made her jealous, she wanted to be Kate instead.

and that made her overthink even worse.

actually, she gets along well with EJ.

and who has more contact with proxies without being one? him!

although she never asked about you or them.

but she managed to find out a little more about you.

she knew the basics: your age, how the operator/slenderman dragged you into that life and your strengths.

but was still the same, she knew absolutely nothing about you.

although she didn't know you very well, it's well known your personality and how you acted, thanks to what she saw and what many people said about you.

what attracted her most to you was how strangely kind you could be, how you were careful with your words so as not to hurt someone, something VERY rare knowing the life you lived.

whether she is hurt or not, she'll watch over you.

Jack questioned Jane about her bond with you.

Jane longingly said she didn't know you as such but was delighted to do so.

you felt small pricks in your head, beginning to regain consciousness. opening your eyes you saw Jack and that girl you met at the lake.

"shit, how long was i like this?" with weakness in your arms you tried to lift your body but gloved hands took your back, giving you support to sit up. "oh thank you, Jane" you remembered her name.

"a week, Jane was taking care of you all this time, i was just changing your bandages" you looked to your side where Jane still had her hand on your back.

"thank you so much, Jane, i owe you one!" and you gave her another smile, another big smile that gave her heart a harmonious beat again.

you two became increasingly closer.

you felt in favor with her after she took care of you.

she was very protective of you, she didn't care if you were more skilled than her since you're a proxy she just wants you to return from your missions safe.

at first she thought you were just flattering her out of pity but eventually she got over that idea, you're genuine.

and that made you much more beautiful every day for her.

the two of you shared the same music taste, some bands, artists and even hobbies.

sometimes you brought clothes for her when you came back from missions or just when you went to the nearest town.

sometimes you invited her to eat at your cabin.

there was even a time when you both slept together, you lent her some pajamas and the two of you slept together, while you slept peacefully, Jane felt like at some point her heart would jump out of her chest to shout how much was in love with you.

you both watched each other's backs.

the days of knowing each other turned into months until a year.

Jane could feel that you were made for each other.

until one day you took longer than usual to return.

her long black hair made a beautiful contrast with the moonlight. she was anxious, the cold of the forest was her companion, looking in despair at the path of trees where you always walked when you left and returned.

footsteps on dry grass and dry leaves began to echo towards her, she came closer and closer to the road until she saw your figure in the darkness illuminated by the intense moonshine, a smile appeared in her lips even though it wasn't noticeable because of her mask, but fell a little when she saw your gaze lost in the grass.

"hey" her voice, soft but somewhat deep, made you look up, Jane ran to you, catching you in her arms. on your face there were fresh stains of that crimson liquid and your hands were soaked with it.

"i couldn't save her" Jane felt a chill, without letting go she moved away a little. "who? Kate?" you denied. "who then?" her voice gave you a calm but inside Jane was curious and nervous at the same time. "she, i couldn't tell you but I was afraid that he, i don't know, would hear me but i wasn't careful after all"

tears soaked your eyes again, slowly sliding down your cheeks, leaving a wet path. "who's she?" "my girlfriend".

a knot formed in Jane's stomach, she felt like all illusion and dream was collapsing. the idea of kissing your lips? was broken, that you will be hers and she yours? never. she just pulled you into her arms but tears were starting to form in her eyes. two hearts had been broken, yours and hers.

and the worst thing is that neither of you would know if you would love in the same way or even love.

Nina the killer

MY GIRLLLL

she's very into her own thing, she tries to get people to talk but god, it was complicated!

although she can understand it, living in the woods or abandoned places and there being a kind of hierarchy of killers and proxies, it explained itself.

but of all that, she loved that she was friends with someone and even more so, with a proxy!

need i say how duo you are?

if you're not with Masky, Hoodie, Toby or Kate, you're definitely with Nina!

you match bracelets, you match necklaces, you match keychains, everything except matching your feelings.

because oh yeah, Nina has a huge crush on you.

memories of how the two of you met came to her mind as she walked through the abandoned place.

EJ's and your voice echoed in that same place as if she was materializing her memories in the place. you were on the ground with a hurt leg and Nina was behind EJ.

"is she your friend?" you pointed at Nina who was leaning against the wall, with no intention of attacking. "she's Nina, by the way, what are you doing here?" now you both looked at her. "rather, why are you here?" she said tilting her head with her marked smile permanently on her skin.

From then on, you two got along very well, the way you asked about her was not rude or hostile, on the contrary, it was curious and very casual, even friendly, something that's so weird! that's why she liked you.

or at least that is her conclusion.

from then on, you started to get closer to her.

you and she had something in common: love to talk.

of all of them, she knew Toby best.

but she always had that inclination towards you and that was where she began to question herself.

here came a point where her feelings were no longer merely platonic but romantic.

def wasn't the first time she had experienced these feelings that made her daydream, her heart beat like a love song, that sees everything in hearts and sparkles.

i could say that she became obsessed with the feeling, not exactly for you.

you make her feel alive, you make her feel so happy, you make her feel like not everything is so fucked up.

"but do you love her?" the brunette's voice interrupted Nina's bubbling chatter. her intense gaze now looked at Natalie, who had a fixed gaze on the dry grass.

"of course-" "no, do you love her?" tilted her head, and again he fixed his gaze on the dry grass, beginning to notice more details. the sound of leaves rustling against each other, the sun beginning to set and the moon rising creating a warm painting in the sky, could be metaphorically described as how Nina felt.

"yes, i love her"

Nina started spying on couples, what they commonly did between them, how they initiated kisses, that kind of thing. she already felt how everything was going to happen!

started collecting stealing things for you!

she already had the whole scenario ready in her head and was starting to put everything in motion.

until she started to see what it was really like to be a proxy.

there came a point where there were days when you didn't come back, and if that was the case you always came back hurt or tired.

there were days when it seemed like you weren't you, that smiling girl, surprisingly kind, was quite direct and distant.

and then there were days where you were again the same person she fell in love with.

a proxy and a killer can be together, right? it's easy.

or that's what she thought.

she was standing nervously in the middle of the forest, she felt her heart beating hard and could feel everything, the fabric of her hoodie covering her skin and her long black hair slipping from her ear despite having her hair tied up.

"Nina" your voice, your beautiful voice. she turned around euphoric but again, she saw you tired.

but to her you still looked beautiful, as the dark circles under your eyes enhanced your eyes, which were exhausted by the way, your figure enhanced by the light provided by the full moon. she wanted to run into your arms and kiss you but why didn't she want to now?

seeing you playing your proxy role wasn't what she thought.

"Nina?" "i love you" you stayed still in your place. she's regretting right now.

"do you love her?" Natalie's words echoed in his head, why can't she say yes now?!

"i like you because you were kind, surprisingly and we shared many things together and..." why the fuck was she speechless? "and...?"

you sighed, starting to approach with a lump in your throat. "Nina, you love me when i'm not... you know" she opened her jaw but you were faster "and i understand, it sucks to be this and well, you only know one part of me and now that you know how i am being almost a subordinate, you may not like me anymore, at least not as such."

Nina just looked at you, why did she want to cry? why did she feel like you had just given her the answer? but it's not something she wanted, she denied that answer.

"you love me but not completely, and i understand that, don't worry, if you like i can pretend you didn't say that" and that smile appeared, remaining marked in her memories.

the worst thing is that you never denied her confession.

Kate the chaser

OKAY HEAR ME OUTTTT

unlike Jane and Nina, Kate has a better chance of having a relationship with you.

but as there are always buts there is something that could not be achieved.

you both were the only women in the group and to no one's surprise, you tended to stick together more.

and sometimes Toby would stick to you.

"Toby, you're being the third wheel" "you think so?"

Kate always remembers when you joined, you were lost and scared. Tim, Brian and Toby were tactless but oh well... Kate at least tried anyway.

The Operator/Slenderman saw nothing wrong with sending you together on missions and tasks because you were both efficient.

but Kate was a nervous wreck.

Kate was attracted to you SIKE! she's madly in love.

but for the sake of things, she wasn't going to say it.

"so when" Kate saw Toby, his head was on the large trunk that joined the branches where they were both sitting. "when, what?" "it's ob-obvious that you're drooling over her"

she didn't say anything, just looked at the distant ground. "never" "oh c'mon!" a small chuckle left her lips as she looked at Toby watching her with a sharp side eye.

"and don't even think about saying anything to her" a stifled laugh slipped from the brunette's pale lips. "or i'll cut your tongue out" "i don't promise anything" and now a small smile curved on her dry lips.

you both share a cabin, in a certain way you generated affection for her.

or that's what you tell yourself every night before sleep, because oh yes, you like her.

two lost souls in love who don't know that is reciprocated.

you were always looking for her touch, you were always looking for her.

more than once Masky referred to you as girlfriends.

but Kate was the one who quickly denied.

you go out for walks together, heal each other's wounds and even lend each other hoodies.

what attracted her to you was that you were like that little humanity and hope in her eyes, despite being controlled and being under his dominion, you maintained some kindness and genuineness, your soft gaze and how you always find solutions.

and for your part it was that despite everything that had happened, even her attitude, she didn't treat you harshly, her talks and what she used to do before being caught by him, you think she's pretty, shy to a certain extent but willing to sacrifice herself if it's necessary.

also you were so delighted when you both played hide and seek and she, being faster than you, caught you quickly and held you in her arms.

you fall and fall again.

and she gladly hold you.

sometimes when y'all go out on the town for some mission, you can't help but imagine you and Kate in the park at night, holding hands and kissing.

while Kate only hopes to have met you under other circumstances.

i won't lie, you've already kissed even shared warmth wink wink.

but neither of both knows if it's really serious or if it's just something casual or because of loneliness.

after some pillow talk, you decided to confess but work calls.

you had so many opportunities to do it but something always happened that didn't materialize.

the cold of the forest attacked the five bodies that were around a campfire, that managed to counteract.

you were sitting next to Tim, the smell of cigarettes making you feel nauseous in your stomach. "how do you not get disgusted?" a smoke came out of his lips accompanied by a light cough. "keeps me warm" you looked ahead, between the flames you saw Kate, who was already watching you.

she stood up and walked towards the hundreds of trees in the area. "the fuck happened to her?"

"i don't know" Toby replied, and then looked at you. "would you go to see her?" you nodded and went to pick her up.

"you owe me something from the city, deal?" "deal"

and even if there was no deal, you wanted to know why she left.

Kate is jealous, but not the possessive type, she's the pessimist type.

more than once she has thought about confessing her feelings to you so that the jokes, insinuations of others and her dreams become real.

but what the operator/slenderman would do something terrified her.

that makes you more surly or that he makes her more surly or worse, that he'll do something to you.

she was scared, very scared.

she loved you, she did but she was still afraid to love.

what if she's not what you need? what you want?

when she clears her mind or tries to return to the group.

that day was the same except that day you were going to know.

everyone was gathered around the campfire again, Toby saw how he was going to break the supposed promise he made with Kate to say nothing but oh come on, he even thought it was insufferable the long delays that Kate gave when she had confessed more than once that she wanted to tell you how much she likes you.

"let's play truth or dare" before anyone could speak, Toby blurted out "Kate, truth or dare, truth, would you have a partner?" if gazes could kill, Toby would definitely be seven under earth.

all eyes were on Kate now. inside you were eating away at her answer, you could feel your heart beating wildly. "i don't care about a relationship, i'm not into it"

oh.

the cold of her words could not be compared to the cold of the night between the immense trees and the grass, you felt how your blood went from hot to cold, how your heart began to break and wanted to get out of your chest. Kate was cursing herself for saying that but she didn't know that you reciprocated her feelings either.

"you have to be kidding." "seriously Toby, i'm not interested in any of that." her voice was firm, it did not tremble.

not like your voice, that at any moment you would speak, you would reveal yourself. you just watched through your eyelashes as Kate grabbed Toby by his sweatshirt and led him away with her.

"there is something those two have going on"

you just stared at the fire, watching as the flames reached their highest peak and faded away, repeating the movement.

maybe Kate is right, there is no room for such things.

but now how will you see her? more of the many things you shared: hoodies, memories, laughs, kisses, touches and warmth.

maybe it was foolish to dream in a harsh reality as this one.

#creepypasta x reader #kate the chaser x reader #jane the killer x reader #jane the killer #kate the chaser #nina the killer x reader #nina the killer #creepypasta x you

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mirisss · 1 year ago

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Enhypen reaction to their gf's solo debut

The New Kard part 2, part 1 can be found ~ here ~

Pairing: Enhypen OT7 x idol! (Y/n)

Wordcount ≈ 1.1k

Warnings: People sending some hate to (Y/n), a tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff

Summary: In a world where the Kard we know today doesn’t exist, a new Kard is created. “The new Kard” = (Y/n) - 02 liner dating Enhypen, Keeho (P1harmony), Ricky (ZB1), & Yunjin (Lesserafim). After The New Kard made their debut with Cake, the promotions for the song were over. However, (Y/n) still had much to do as she prepared for her solo debut.

Authors note: Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy it even if I couldn’t fulfill everything in your request.

Request by 🍮 - anon

Please reblog!

Third Person POV

The New Kard’s debut was quite a success. Everyone was talking about it. The MV received a lot of views and the rookie group even got a win on one of the music shows. Thousands of videos went viral of moments where the group hung out, performed, or joked around on variety shows. (Y/n) became particularly popular, netizens loving her stage presence and personality. Her group and her boyfriends were all so happy about their successful debut.

Once promotions were over for Cake, the company booked a meeting with (Y/n), telling her that she would be making her solo debut after they saw how popular she was. (Y/n) was incredibly happy, she decided that it should come as a surprise for everyone, they wouldn’t find out until the info was posted. (Y/n)’s groupmates Keeho, Yunjin, and Ricky were all busy working as MCs or acting in a drama. Enhypen was busy preparing and then promoting their newest album, Dark Blood with the title track Bite Me.

(Y/n) was working hard and tried her best to hide the fact that she was preparing for her solo debut. Her title track was just her style, she loved it. The styling was top-tier, the MV shooting had been a lot of fun, and she truly hoped the song would be a hit. Her friends and boyfriends were so busy with their own work that they missed the post announcing that (Y/n) would be debuting as a soloist in 3 weeks. Her debut album became one of the most-bought debut albums of all time. The fans seemed super excited for (Y/n).

The day of her debut was finally here, (Y/n)’s MV was just posted, and thousands of views rolled in within seconds. It wasn’t until that day when the MV was released, that Enhypen found out that their girlfriend was debuting as a soloist, or well she now was a soloist as well. They watched the MV, mesmerized by her dance moves and her beautiful voice. The second it was over they called (Y/n), who answered, expecting them to have found out by now. “(Y/n)! You’re a soloist now!?! Why didn’t you tell us?” Jake along with Sunoo exclaimed loudly. “Surprise!” (Y/n) chuckled, nervous to hear their opinions. “Can you come over or should we come to you?” Heesung asked, wanting to congratulate her in person and not just over the phone. “Uh, hold on,” They heard a low mumble in the background, probably (Y/n) asking her manager when she could meet with her boyfriends. “I can head over to your place in 2 hours,” “See you then, miss you, love you” Sunghoon began saying goodbye, and as he came to the last part all the boys joined in.

2 hours later, (Y/n) was knocking on Enhypen’s door. Jungwon opened the door, a silly smile on his face as he basically threw himself on the girl, hugging her tightly. “(Y/n)!” Jay shouted happily from the living room. Jungwon released her from his hug after a minute, allowing her to step inside and close the door, they walked over to the living room. The other six boys stood there, with a cake and a banner that read “Congratulations honey,” Which they all also said once (Y/n) had noticed the banner behind them. “Thank you,” Everyone was smiling as love-sick teenagers as they sat down together, eating some of the cake and talking about everything. The boys told (Y/n) about everything they loved about the song, the MV, and the dance.

A little later, (Y/n) opened up her Instagram, checking some of the comments people were posting under her latest post, the one with the announcement of the MV’s release. Many comments complimented her and congratulated her for her fast solo debut. However, her happy feelings and smile soon disappeared as she found hundreds of people writing their dismay and dislike of the song and the choreography, saying that (Y/n) should have done better. Her heart fell as she found people writing that they regretted buying her album. Niki noticed the way (Y/n)’s smile disappeared, he scooted closer to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders to comfort her. He glanced down at her phone, finding her reading comments. “Hey, what’s wrong?” The others noticed the scene once they heard the maknae’s voice.

“People are disappointed, I should have done better,” “Oh darling, no, you were amazing, they’re just being haters for the hell of it,” Jay said, also coming over to comfort (Y/n). “They hate the song and/or the choreo, saying it’s not my style and it was just a waste of money for the company,” “Do you like the song?” Jungwon asked, “Of course, I love it,” “Do you like the choreo?” He then asked, “Yes, it’s something I’ve dreamt of doing,” “That’s all that matters then. It wasn’t a waste of money or a disappointment if you love it, then it was a success,” “Wonnie,” “Hey, look, we’re so proud of you, your members are so proud too! And real fans will love it too!” Sunoo said, giving (Y/n) a bright smile, his eyes crinkling up along with it, something (Y/n) loved about Sunoo, his true smile was cute and sweet.

“Please teach me the dance? I want to be prepared for the dance challenges for tiktok,” Niki said, Sunghoon and Jake immediately stood up to learn the dance too. No matter what happens, as long as (Y/n) has Enhypen, she will continue to smile and be strong. Within seconds of standing up and trying to teach the boys her choreo, she was smiling and laughing. Completely forgetting about the hate she had received.

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kallie-den · 2 months ago

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Rescue Hound Chapter Six

Kione finds herself growing closer to the rebels around her, even as her new handler-hound relationship with Sartha places her at a greater distance than ever before

This is a Warhound story! The preceding stories can be found at this tag

If you enjoy my work and are looking for more, or you want to support me, I strongly encourage you to check out my Patreon! I write erotica full-time, which means I need your patronage to keep creating, and my Patrons also get benefits like early access to my stories, extra stories, and the ability to vote on what I write next! So, if that sounds good to you, head over and join the couple hundred patrons I already have :)

---

“Let me ask you something,” Kione asks languidly. “How come the food keeps getting worse around here?”

Muted laughter around the rec room. Vola, Nese, Amynta—Radio Girl—and a few others Kione doesn’t really know yet. All bored shitless. Sorties have been few and far between. Nothing to do but keep their heads down while the imperial net closes.

“Terribly sorry, my lady.” Amynta feigns a little bow from her slouched pose on the bench. “Any requests for dinner? Fresh fish, perhaps? A nice salad?”

More laughter. Their banter isn’t exactly high drama, but anything to lighten the mood.

“If you could bring me that,” Kione sniffs, “I’d pay you your mech’s weight in imperial coins.”

“Gods,” Vola grunts. “Don’t you ever get tired of being such a rich bitch about everything?”

“No.”

“Then, don’t you ever feel like putting that ridiculous hoard of yours to good use? A contribution to the cause? That’s what a good rebel would do.”

“No.”

“Can’t you at least share it around a bit? Among friends?

“Got that fresh fish for me?”

Everyone groans at her. Kione drinks it in, of course. She’s never happier than when she gets to play the villain. Plus, all the rebels seem to appreciate having someone to groan at too.

“No fish.” That’s Nese. She’s been quiet today. Sounds dour. “Imperials secured the east bank of the Lethys River a few days ago. We’re cut off.”

That brings down the mood at once. This front of the war hasn’t been doing well—not that any of them have. The imperial war machine crawls across the land like a locust swarm. Let them take what they want, and they’ll never stop. Fight them, and the buzz of resistance drives them into a frenzy. Oh, the rebels fight well, to be sure. They know the land they fight on, and they love what they know. But you need resources to win a war, and on that front more than any other, the empire is unmatched. They have machines that turn mountains into legions. That rip great wounds into the ruined earth, drinking the dredges of its long-spent wealth the way a mosquito might a still-warm corpse. Against a foe like that, victories are only temporary. The accountant’s toll of gains and losses is forever.

The rebel base—Leukon Base, it’s called—is getting surrounded, inexorably but slowly. It’s up in the Orestis Highlands. Difficult territory to claim. And so far, the rebels have managed to remain in the dark. Probably, the imperials don’t know if it’s a fully-fledged outpost or just a few stragglers, and they also probably don’t know which hole or peak they might be hiding in. So, there’s time. But only time. Resupply will keep getting harder. Kione’s glad she got Theaboros all patched up already.

Learning all these proper nouns for places is kind of a pain in the ass, honestly. Kione never bothered with it before. You take a map, you get a job, get some coordinates. You show up, you shoot some people, you get paid, you fuck off before anyone can try to engage you in a scintillating conversation about the weather this time of year. Now, Kione hears the place names coming out of people’s mouths, and they actually mean something to her.

‘Not part of the job’, is what she’d normally say. But she supposes this one stopped being ‘just a job’ a while ago.

“Doubt we were getting much fresh fish out of the river anyway,” Kione grumbles. “That’s fairy tale stuff.”

“Not true,” Nese tells her. “Most of the year, it snows clean on the mountains to the north of here. Keeps the waters pure. There’s a few springs, too. Plenty of fish spawn in the hills around there, and some of them even make it this far downstream without choking on runoff.”

Finally, Kione twigs it. “You’re from around here, aren’t you?”

Nese nods.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Kione feels oddly nervous about offering condolences. She’s not used to it. “Your people?”

“Don’t know.”

“Damn,” Kione replies. Then she says, “I’m sorry,” again because she’s not really sure what else she’s supposed to say.

“Thanks.” Nese looks up from her game of solitaire and offers Kione a bit of a nurturing smile; ‘A’ for effort, apparently.

“Relax, merc,” Amynta reaches over and claps Kione’s shoulder. “It’s not such a rare story around here. No offense, Nese.”

“Yeah,” Vola pipes up. “I grew up in the Memphin Desert, across the Panropa Basin. They occupied it years ago. Turns out there’s still oil under there, if you dig deep enough.” She takes a breath. Exhales her cigarette. “Hope they drown in it. They probably won’t. Either way, I’ll probably never see the sands again.”

Kione nods slowly as she absorbs that. “You?” she finds herself asking Amynta, because she realizes she actually wants to know.

“Me?” Amynta is surprised by her curiosity. A little delighted, too. “I’m from nowhere, babe.” She flashes a peace sign, just to make Kione giggle. “Born on a refugee trail. Grew up moving here and there. Joined up to fight the first chance I got. Now, your turn. Where you from, Ki?”

“Uh.” She asks casually, but the question lands on Kione like a lobbed boulder. She’s not good at talking about herself. But she’s really in it now; this has already turned into a sharing circle. And worse, she asked first. “I’m… from Kinbashi.”

She sees recognition in Amynta’s eyes. A touch of pity, too. Kinbashi is—was—a large city-state, one of several in the resource belt far to the south of even Vola’s home. One of the sad little comfortable dreams of those who wanted to keep living sad little comfortable lives, as they had done in the days the world was whole.

“Surprised you didn’t join our cause a long time ago,” Nese snorts. “Pay the imperial cunts back for it.”

Kione shakes her head. “It’s imperial now,” she corrects. “But Kinbashi fell a long time ago. Madness and greed. People fighting and dying over all sorts of stupid shit. I grew up running from shelter to shelter with my parents whenever the sirens sounded.” She forces a smile. “Then one day, the sirens were a little too late, and I was on my own. Kinbashi in rubble. Nothing to stay for.”

All around the rec room, sympathetic glances. Kione really wishes they wouldn’t. There’s a reason she doesn’t usually go on about herself.

“’Madness and greed’,” Amynta quotes. “If that’s how you see it, why be a merc?”

Now Kione grins. “Yeah, and it was madness because none of those greedy fucks ever actually got what they were fighting for. Now I make damn sure I’m getting paid before I get out in front of a bullet.”

The smiles return. Everybody loves the rich bitch. Doesn’t quite banish the sympathetic looks, though. They’re all getting a bit too used to it. They don’t see Kione as some merc anymore.

They see her as one of them.

Not all of the rebels do, that’s for sure. Skulking in one of the rec room’s corners is Pela, that Sartha fangirl Kione once dressed down in the canteen. There are plenty of others like her. Rebels Kione has pissed off so mightily it’ll take more than just time to heal the wounds. But on the whole, they’re softening. Kione is too, and she knows their names, and she knows the names of the places they’re fighting for.

It’s… a new feeling. One Kione isn’t quite sure how to get to grips with. Even more uncomfortable is the novel idea that all these rebels might, sooner or later, actually know her.

“I’ve never heard you tell that story to anyone besides me, Ki.”

But for now, there’s plenty they don’t know, of course.

They don’t know about Sartha Thrace. They think they do; Kione can see that plainly from the little looks of adoration and comfort on all their faces as the hero walks in. She’s been in the hangar-cave, helping to calibrate Ancyor’s new upgrades. With her arrival, she warms the room. The world is brighter and better with her in it. The rebels look at her, and see a hope beyond hope. They see salvation.

Not Kione.

The truth of Sartha Thrace stares her in the face. First of all, she sees that Sartha is wearing her jacket buttoned up tight, all the way to the top of her neck. To most, nothing noteworthy; just a concession to the cold. Kione knows that beneath her collar are a bouquet of bruises that match her own fingers. Evidence of the previous night’s excesses, now blossoming into grotesque, ugly purple. Just thinking of it makes Kione shudder.

She went too far, of course. Kione knows that. But she’s already forgiven herself. Her task is to plumb the depths of another woman’s soul. Certain mistakes are inevitable. What counts is that the damage is not permanent. And in the process, Kione grasped something crucial.

Sartha Thrace is not human.

Presumably she was, once, but she gave it up. Traded her humanity for the comfort of existing on the end of a metaphysical leash. She does not think as people do. She does not feel as people do. When she was taken and brainwashed, Sartha was not broken on the surface; coerced into a set of simple, mechanical acts as the core of her personhood buried itself deep within her mind for protection. Oh no. She was broken all the way through. Broken the way glass breaks when an entire pane shatters from a single strike—because she wanted it. Now, her very internality has been crushed into something abhorrently one-dimensional. There is no deeper meaning to be found in her than one would find in a dog scraping the bottom of its bowl for food.

Can you really speak of abusing such an animal? Of violating it? Of course not. Kione’s guilt would be senseless, and that very senseless guilt is what almost drove her over the edge when she had her hands clamped around Sartha’s throat. So now, she has discarded it. She has forgiven herself—and for whatever it’s worth, she knows that Sartha has forgiven her too.

Why? Because they’re in love, of course.

“Hey, Captain Thr- I mean, Sartha,” Amynta turns to greet her. Sartha has been insisting on names over titles, but it doesn’t come easy to most of the rebels.

“Hey,” Kione says too.

Sartha has eyes only for her. She hurries across to Kione’s side, adoring, no hint of fear or resentment over the way Kione tortured and strangled her. That no longer strikes Kione as strange. When Sartha looks into the eyes of those around her, she sees hero-worship reflected back at her. Kione once suffered that delusion—but now, when Sartha meets her gaze, the fallen hero sees nothing reflected other than her own nothingness. Kione sees her clearly. The nothingness is validating. For that, Sartha would gladly trade all the abuse in the world.

She is sick with love for Kione.

But nobody else sees it. Not even as they move aside to allow Sartha to sit next to Kione and rest her head on the merc’s shoulder. To everyone else, it’s cute. They’re a little jealous, probably, but mostly they’re glad Sartha has someone at her side. They can only imagine what the two of them do behind closed doors. They don’t know what Sartha is.

That thought pricks at Kione.

Why don’t they? Can’t they see it? Isn’t it obvious? It is to Kione. She isn’t sure how she ever missed it. She sees an abyss in the dark pupils of Sartha’s eyes, the surrounding color a mere echo of the spirit that had once driven her. She sees nothingness on Sartha’s lips, wet and parted when she looks up at Kione, eager for commands or praise or abuse or the three words that deliver her from the thin pretense of personhood. She sees oblivion in everything Sartha does, even in the way she acts like a hero, so desperate and forced and pathetic.

Why doesn’t everyone else?

That’s why Kione isn’t one of them. She sees. And they are blind.

“How’s the new beast looking?” Amynta asks.

“Good.” Sartha grins as she leans into Kione. “A couple more weeks, and it’ll be ready to tear them a new one. She’ll be the finest machine on the planet.”

A couple of appreciative whistles. “Watch it,” Vola jibes, energized. “Kione’ll be complaining we keep getting parts shipped in instead of haute cuisine.”

“No way.” Amynta answers on Kione’s behalf. “Even she’s not that much of a hypocrite. You were plenty grateful for our supply lines when you were getting your babygirl fixed up, right Ki?”

“Yeah, I’m so ‘grateful’ that they cost me more than I’ve ever made working alongside you lot,” Kione complains. It’s true. Her coffers have never been so empty—not that they’re likely to run dry any time soon.

As she plays up her discontent, Kione reaches across and drapes an arm over Sartha’s shoulder. Accidentally, her forearm ends up pressing against Sartha’s collar and the bruises beneath. Sartha flinches subtly, but then settles in to press even closer to Kione, a look of giddy, drunken contentment settling across her face.

Fucking freak. But nobody else takes any notice.

“From what I heard, you paid so much because you needed some seriously weird shit,” Nese puts to her. “How does that machine of yours work, anyway? The flying, I mean.”

“Antimatter?” Kione shrugs. She has a pretty good idea of Theaboros’s basic engineering—enough to direct repairs, anyway—but the finer points of its machinery escape her, as do the deeper physics underpinning them. “You want much more than that, you’d have to ask the person I got to design it for me.”

“What’s their name?” Nese asks. “I had no idea any rebel groups had the labs and resources to develop this kind of tech.”

“They don’t,” Kione replies. “She’s imperial.”

That gets a few looks. Rebels are no strangers to appropriating imperial technology, but they usually have to steal or salvage it, not commission it.

“How’d that work, exactly?” Vola asks, a touch guardedly.

“First of all, I’m a merc,” Kione reminds her. “If I take a bit of care, I can go wherever I want. Second… have you ever met a mech engineer? Those adorable little freaks are all exactly the same. They’re all gagging for a chance to get their pet prototypes built.”

“So? How’d you get her to give it to you, instead of the empire?”

Kione looks from side to side, then leans in, like she’s about to let everybody in on a big secret. Then she brings her free hand to her lips—and makes a little gesture of sticking her tongue out between the V of her fingers.

All the rebels howl with laughter. Not Sartha—but it’s not jealousy or envy that stop her. She looks up at Kione, awestruck, like Kione’s some kind of goddess for it. Gods, can the rest of them really not see her for what she is?

“OK, seriously,” Kione adds. “You gotta remember, the imperials don’t build like you do. It’s all production lines and interchangeable parts over there. No way you can get their bean-counters to approve some flashy one-of-a-kind machine that’s only as good as whatever fresh-faced academy dipshit ends up in the cockpit.”

Vola nods slowly. It’s a hard thing for some rebels to get their heads around, especially if they’re still a little green. If they’ve only ever fought in skirmishes and insurgency actions, not in the kinds of full-scale battles that showcase the empire’s horrific aptitude for total warfare. Their factories can churn out Dorus on a scale that a girl like Vola could scarcely believe possible. It just doesn’t make sense for an industrial war machine like that to derail its manufacturing, maintenance and support logistics just to build exactly one of something that might turn out to be a terrible idea anyway.

For the rebels, it’s just the opposite. Every rebel mech is a mongrel. They’re all one-of-a-kind, so if you have the parts to build something special and a pilot that can make it work, why not? It’ll be no more of a pain in the ass to keep in service than any of the hundreds of thrice-reconstructed imperial mechs the rebels usually fight with. Besides, rebel tactics are necessarily local, flexible, and improvisational. Give them a weird machine, you can bet your ass they’ll figure out an equally weird way to put it to good use. Kione respects the resourcefulness. What she doesn’t respect is that, beyond everything else, the rebels need icons. Symbols. Heroes, like Sartha and her Ancyor. Instantly recognizable on a poster. It’s a way to rally people. All the more reason to favor wacko prototypes.

“So…” Amynta ventures, “you didn’t really eat out an imperial engineer to get Theaboros?”

“I paid her handsomely, and I gave her a chance to see her baby fly,” Kione answers primly. “And then I ate her out. Just for fun. I mentioned she was an adorable little freak, didn’t I?”

Amynta gives her a playful punch whilst everyone else groans.

“Whatever,” Vola snorts. “If you ask me, you’re the freak for trusting it. I’d never want to count on imperial tech to keep me three hundred feet in the air. I’ll bet on my Phassus any day of the week. She’s not flashy. But she gets it done.”

Amynta and Sartha both flash her a warning look, but it’s too late. She said the magic word, and Kione is already wearing her finest shark grin.

“You’d bet, huh?” Kione purrs. “Easy enough to settle that—unless you’re all talk, of course.”

At once, Sartha switches gears. Suddenly, she’s a guard dog. A cheerleader. She partakes in Kione’s smugness, and glares challenging daggers at Vola. The other rebel bristles at Kione’s taunt, but Radio Girl is quick to shut down the suggestion.

“Absolutely fucking not,” she insists. “Command is not in the mood, and neither am I. Try for some dick-swinging duel, and I’ll have both of your machines drained of fuel so the entire base can laugh at you when you try and launch only to fall on your asses. Do not test me.”

She’s really growing into herself. Kione’s a little bit impressed, but mostly just annoyed she won’t get her dick-swinging duel.

“Fine,” she yawns. “No fun allowed.”

A crooked smile forms on Nese’s face. Apparently, Kione isn’t the only one who wanted a show.

“How about you get it out of your system a different way?” Nese suggests.

“What did you have in mind?” Vola asks. She’s game.

Nese licks her lips. “Nobody’s gonna complain about a little arm-wrestling. Right?”

And nobody does. It only takes a few moments to set it up; Kione and Vola on chairs, a table between them, staring menacingly at each other, while the other rebels pretend to be an appropriately riled-up crowd. They’re all in Vola’s corner, of course. She’s the hometown girl. Kione stands apart. She’s the heel. She’s not one of them. Only Sartha stands behind Kione, resting a hand on her back with a doting affection.

She’s so damn obvious about it. They’re going to see you, Sartha. They’ll see the nothingness in you. They’ll see that you’ll always betray them in the end.

Kione hopes they see. She hopes Sartha sees that none of them could love her the way she does.

“Three,” Amynta counts, as Kione and Vola plant their elbows on the table and grip each other’s hands. “Two. One. Start!”

Kione tenses the muscles in her core as well as her arms as she begins to push against Vola. She feels the other woman’s palm shifting in her grip as both of them jockey for angle and position. Vola is young and strong. She gives it her all from the first signal, and Kione has to give it hers just to stay in the fight. She can tell at once, though, that she’s being underestimated. Kione likes to keep herself looking pretty, and she knows she looks a little slight in her jumpsuit—but she’s a merc, and sometimes that means having to carry a lot of heavy shit all by yourself.

So Kione relaxes into the hold, letting her wider shoulders give her a better angle, and lets Vola huff and puff until she’s all out of juice. It’s not so easy that she doesn’t sweat from the strain, though, and Kione’s not such a poor showman that she won’t let Vola force her all the way back like she’s on the verge of defeat.

But just as her rebel comrades are already beginning to whoop and cheer for their hometown girl, Kione flashes them a grin and starts pushing back. Every grunt from Vola’s lips and every grimace on her face is a little gift to Kione, and the gifts only end when Kione plants the back of the other woman’s hand flat on the table.

Victory.

Lots of groaning. Kione takes that as applause. Sartha rubs her back and coos for her. That makes her feel kind of nauseous. Vola grimaces again, then amicably shakes Kione’s hand. She gets up—and Amynta sits down.

“Come on, then.” Radio Girl winks at her. “Can’t have everybody think a merc is better than a rebel.”

Kione’s arm is already tired. She really shouldn’t—but she just rolls her eyes and meets her grin for grin. She just can’t say no to a good flirt.

“Fine,” Kione replies. “You’re on. Just one moment.”

She makes a little performance of the way she reaches up and unzips her jumpsuit from the neck, before peeling it away to her waist in order to expose her shoulders and her belly. Only a thin, fabric sports bra covers her torso, and Kione’s dark skin is covered in a sheen of sweat from her bout with Vola. Everyone is ogling her. Especially Amynta.

Kione smiles. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.

“OK.” Kione makes a show of stretching, too; bending left, then right, folding her arms across her shoulders, making sure Amynta gets a fine look at her back muscles flexing. “Let’s do this.”

“Yeah,” Amynta pants. “Let’s.”

The atmosphere in the room has changed. Amynta is openly leering at Kione. She can’t help it. The poor girl has been sweet on her ever since that first mission together. Sartha is the only thing that’s kept them from sharing a bed. Now she’s feeling a little more than just rebel pride. And she’s not the only one. The rest of the rebels are watching with a voyeuristic interest. They want to see who might come out on top.

In many senses of the word.

“Three.” Nese counts this time, as the two women grip each other’s palms. “Two. One. Go!”

Kione tenses up again as she and Amynta begin to grapple. Amynta can’t hide her interest; her eyes keep flickering to Kione’s stomach and shoulders as Kione flexes her trim figure. She’s distracted. Kione has a wild grin on her face. This is going to be fun. But not right away; no, she lets Amynta get a little warm and a little riled. Lets her marinate in her own stupid animal brain chemicals for a moment.

Then Kione flashes her the filthiest look Amynta’s ever seen, licks her lips, and does something truly sinful with her extended tongue.

Amynta blushes and squirms and, just for a moment, lets her concentration slip completely. Slamming her hand down onto the table is the easiest thing Kione’s ever done.

“No fair!” Amynta protests, while Kione throws back her head and howls with victorious laughter.

“Love and war, babygirl,” Kione tells her. That forces another blush into Amynta’s cheeks. “Merc two, rebels zero. Kind of embarrassing for all of you, honestly. Surely you can do better than that.”

“We can,” Nese retorts.

And looks at Sartha.

A heartbeat later, and everyone’s looking at her. Their eyes are full of expectation. They already know: Sartha will save them. Sartha can’t lose. She’s a hero. Sartha, to her credit, doesn’t flinch from it, although Kione feels her tense invisibly at her side.

“What do you say, Ki?” Sartha asks, with cocksure lightness. “Think you can go another round.”

Asking for permission, of course. She can’t do anything here without Kione’s permission. But she threads the needle, and finds a way to ask while still acting like the confident ace everybody wants her to be. Cute.

How does that work, exactly? Kione makes a mental note to pry into that, the next time she’s playing with Sartha’s head. Is it a conscious deception? An anxious lie? If so, is it motivated by simple self-preservation? Or by a twisted, not-quite-obliterated sense of pride? Alternatively, is it simply second nature to the dog Sartha Thrace has become? Has the fundamental lie of her identity been seared so deep into her soul, she no longer realizes she is deceiving everybody who has ever trusted her?

Kione’s nostrils flare. She has so much to learn, if she’s to become the equal of Sartha’s handler.

“Sure,” Kione answers eventually. “One more.”

Sartha sits opposite her. Nese, Vola, Amynta are all cheering. Others too. The atmosphere is bordering on riotous. Several more have heard what’s happening, and come to watch. Who wouldn’t want to see Sartha Thrace arm wrestling another dyke? On the surface, Sartha is a perfect match for their expectations. She sits easily in her chair, a slight, smug smirk on her face; it’s easy to imagine her sitting in Ancyor with the same ease as she readies herself to deliver a hammer blow against the empire.

Kione, though, can only imagine her one way: on her knees, wearing a muzzle.

What would all the rest of them think if they saw her like that? Even once?

“Ready, Ki?” Sartha challenges. As loyal as she is, she means to win. Kione can see that in her eyes.

“Ready.” Kione is no less competitive. She plants her elbow on the table. The two of them lock hands.

“Three,” Amynta counts. “Two. One. Start.”

Sartha starts slow the way an avalanche starts slow. She eases into the grappling—but gods, she’s strong. Stronger than Kione, that’s for sure. Even if she’d been fresh, Kione couldn’t have beaten her. She strains every sinew, of course, but Sartha is already pressing her down, down, down. Her fellow rebels drink in her impending victory. They urge her on, yelling and cheering. The looks on their faces are jubilant. To them, it’s fate. It’s justice. In the end, their rebel hero wins the day.

Something about that just pisses Kione off.

Don’t you get it? She betrayed you. And she’d do it again.

Maybe Kione should show them. Just a little bit. Just in a small, harmless way.

She looks straight into Sartha’s dead eyes and tells her: “Sartha. Let me win.”

Most of the people who hear it laugh. They think Kione’s begging. Sartha doesn’t laugh. Her eyes flash wide in shock for a moment. Kione can tell it’s not surprise. She’s not surprised Kione is doing this to her. It’s just the bow shock of a cold, clear command spearing through the persona she had been wearing. A moment later, color hits her cheeks. Gratitude. Arousal. Every chance to obey is a chance to submerge into obedience. Sartha is always glad of those. Kione’s lips curl.

They’re all watching you, Sartha. Show them.

“Yes, Kione,” Sartha replies, very quietly.

And lets her win.

Sartha’s arm goes limp. Kione feels the fight drain from her. No more smug hero act. She is a doll in Kione’s grip. Something she can pose with ease. The small crowd turns hushed as they see it happen. As they see Sartha give up. Kione looks over each of them, delighting in their half-amused, half-disturbed shock, before slowly forcing Sartha’s hand to the table.

Clean sweep.

The audience churns uncomfortably. A few of them are tittering with approval. They think they know what they saw: a kink dynamic, spilling out from the bedroom. Even some of those, though, seem faintly disappointed. Most of the watching rebels are plainly discomforted. They suspect nothing, but this isn’t what they wanted to see. Sartha Thrace doesn’t just lose. Not like that. The natural order has been subverted. And Radio Girl is looking between Sartha and Kione like she’s suddenly not sure she knows either of them at all.

That’s right, Kione thinks. We can play nice and swap stories all we like, but the truth is: I’m not one of you.

And neither is Sartha.

***

“Here,” Kione commands. “Strip. Take everything off.”

It’s late at night. The whole of Leukon Base is asleep; that’s the only reason nobody has seen Kione leading Sartha through the base’s narrow corridors, muzzle bound tight over her face.

“Yes, Kione.”

Kione had wondered, idly, if this would prompt any questioning from Sartha. Any hesitance. Of course not. A fervent eagerness shines across the surface of Sartha’s deep, dead eyes as she reaches up and begins to pull her jacket away from her body. The more clothes she removes, the more bruises she reveals; a discolored necklace around her collar, then a few irregular rows down her sides and a couple of huge, yellowing marks on her belly. All of them are two days faded now, but all the prettier for it. As excessive as the violence might have been, Kione is proud of the proof of her handiwork. She made Sartha look like exactly what she is.

A kicked dog.

The most wretched creature on the face of the world. And Kione’s beloved.

As she sees her now, naked, beginning to shiver against the nighttime chill, Kione almost bursts with love for her. Her love for Sartha threatens to drool out of the aching grin fixed on her face. She’s so lucky. Nobody has ever been more lucky. She and Sartha are joined, utterly. They have stared into one another’s darkness, and they have not blinked. They accept each other totally. Partners in atrocity. What bond could be greater? Purer?

And what’s more, they’ll do anything for each other.

“Chin up,” Kione instructs.

As the tip of Sartha’s muzzle tilts upward, Kione reaches into her pocket and fishes out a dog collar—a real one, sized for a large breed. She was able to pick it up at Leukon Base’s commissary. The rebels have a relaxed policy around pets. In multiple senses, actually. Kione could have bought something nice and leather, hand-crafted, padded on the inside, with a nice big D-ring on the front for ease of use.

But no. Kione thinks this ugly, red nylon thing that fastens with a cheap clip instead of a proper buckle is a much better fit. Sartha’s opinion on the matter doesn’t count, but Kione is pleased that she seems eager enough; her eyes widen with palpable excitement as Kione twirls the collar around her upraised index finger for a moment.

“Long overdue, right?” Kione grins. “Here.”

She fastens the collar tight around Sartha’s neck. Sartha relaxes eagerly into its embrace, grateful for the chance to be a pet instead of a person. And now Kione has Sartha Thrace collared. Owned. It’s the stuff of dreams. Kione lifts her hand, and strokes her fingertips lovingly across the high part of Sartha’s cheek, the part that peeks over the muzzle’s cage.

Then she snaps out of it. Then she remembers. Sartha doesn’t want gentle. Sartha doesn’t want loving. And she’s a filthy fucking traitor who let them break her.

“Get down,” Kione barks, scowling. Before Sartha can possibly react, Kione grabs the end of her muzzle and uses it to shove her downward. “On your hands and knees, dog.”

Sartha stumbles a bit in surprise, but obeys instantly. Kione’s rictus grin flickers back to her face. Sartha might be a subhuman bitch, but that doesn’t mean Kione can’t enjoy this. Mastering her own emotions is still new to her, and still a struggle. But she’s determined to keep her adoration well-aimed. She will not love the false idol that is Sartha Thrace, hero. She will love the dog.

“There we go.” Kione bends down and starts petting Sartha’s head—oh, and it’s so hard not to love her when she starts looking stupid and brainless like this. “That’s where you belong. How do you feel, Sartha? Not too cold?”

“No, I’m- ah!”

Kione cuts her off by knotting her hand into a fist in Sartha’s hair and yanking so hard Sartha’s hands lift off the floor. Her face is pained, but Kione sees the ecstasy beneath.

“Wrong!” Kione laughs. “Do you know why it’s wrong, Sartha?”

“No, K- f-fuck!”

The same treatment again, only harder. “You really are a dumb bitch,” Kione scorns. “It’s wrong because dogs don’t talk. What do dogs say, babe?”

Sartha gets it at once, and as Kione releases her grip and lets her pet slump back to the ground, a look of voracious, submissive glee settles across her face.

“Woof!”

Kione laughs a little at that, but she isn’t completely satisfied. Sartha says it a little too much like a person-word, rather than a sound.

“Try again,” she encourages. “Bark, bitch.”

To her credit, Sartha senses exactly what Kione wants from her. “Arf!” is what comes out of her next. A simple, brute, guttural ejaculation. Now Kione truly throws back her head and cackles.

Gods, doesn’t she know how fucking embarrassing that sounds?

“Good girl,” Kione mocks. “Now. Louder.”

“Arf!”

“Louder!”

Now Kione senses a touch of hesitancy—although only a touch, before Sartha lets out another wretched, bleating: “Arf!”

Kione knows exactly why Sartha hesitated. Yes, it’s late at night, but a military base never quite sleeps. There are sentries. There could be people awake and wandering around for all kinds of reasons. Hell, the walls around here aren’t so thick that someone awake in their bunk might not overhear a loud bark and decide to come and check it out.

A little shiver of danger races down Kione’s spine as she thinks on it. Yes, this is going to be delicious.

“You really do make a good dog,” Kione announces. “And honestly? I’ve been a neglectful pet owner. I’ve waited this long to take you out for walkies.”

Deep in subspace though she is, Sartha’s cheeks redden from sheer embarrassment. She’s not completely beyond it—not until Kione gives her the words. For now, all she can do is twist and turn in her own nauseous delight. In the shame of being, and the bliss of being less than human.

“Arf!” is her only reply. That, and the sound of a drop of Sartha’s wetness hitting the floor.

“Good,” Kione repeats. “Now, here.”

Kione pulls out a leash. Her next commissary indulgence. It takes no more than a moment to clip it to Sartha’s collar—and then Kione turns on her heel, and she’s away.

She picks her pace carefully. Not rushing, but not slow either. Leisurely—but not leisurely enough for Sartha. Shuffling on her hands and knees, she struggles to keep up. Unfortunately for her, Kione was careful to pick a short leash. After just a short distance, Sartha’s pace slackens as she pauses to breathe. Kione steps forward again, heedless—and pulls Sartha up short. As soon as Kione feels the barest hint of resistance, she yanks. Hard.

“Keep up,” Kione orders merrily. “Or do I need to find a bone to throw for you?”

Being pulled along by her collar only makes Sartha’s task harder. She’s forced up onto her feet, not her knees, and into a desperate, headlong scramble just to relieve the pressure on her neck. When she catches up, it’s no better. Kione is still walking just a little bit faster than she can comfortably crawl or shuffle, so Sartha ends up settling into an awkward, exhausting, half-raised gait just so she can keep herself at Kione’s side.

Kione’s face hurts from grinning. But she can’t stop. You’re perfect, Sartha. Perfect like this. Maybe this is simply the way you were always meant to be.

“Good girl,” Kione tells her again. Sartha deserves to keep hearing it. And then, for her own benefit: “I promise. I’ll keep you safe. With me. Just like this. Forever.”

You don’t need that handler, Sartha. I’ll be her. I’ll be better than her. Just you watch.

As they walk through Leukon Base’s corridors, the two of them pass door after door. Most of them, closed; a few of them, open, leading into empty rooms or other passageways. Each of those that they pass makes Kione feel like she’s going to throw up and blow her load at the same time. Each time, she glances into the dark doorway and thinks the shadow she sees has a pair of eyes. The threat of discovery is ever-present, and it activates all the small danger-instincts Kione has honed in her time as a pilot.

Would happen if someone saw? Kione keeps running through it in her head. What would they think of her? What if they saw her use Sartha’s trigger? What then? Would they hate her? Would they punish her? Would they envy her?

It’s too much. The adrenaline is kicking her something fierce. Kione can’t stop giggling as they walk.

And what if they saw Sartha? What then? Would they hate her? Would they think she’s let them down? They’d be right to, of course. But would they look upon her as a traitor? Or merely as a broken wretch?

Kione is desperate to find out. It’s the only thing that could snap the merciless tension gnawing at her.

Gods, maybe some of them would envy Sartha too. She’s not the first rebel girl to enjoy being collared. Plenty of them would look good that way, too. A sudden vision hits Kione, as the flames of arousal lick at her: Amynta Tet, Radio Girl, muzzled and kneeling.

Kione laughs long and loud. She’s not sure if Radio Girl swings that way. But it sure would be fun to find out.

“How you doing, Sartha?” Kione abruptly comes to a halt. “Getting some of that energy out of your system?”

That’s an understatement. Sartha looks wrecked. Fit as she is, scrambling on all fours after Kione has left her bedraggled with sweat and shivering from both cold and exertion. Kione’s heart swells with the knowledge that Sartha would keep going forever if Kione told her to. Until she collapsed into sleep from exhaustion.

“A-arf!” Sartha answers. Her voice trembles, but she’s no less eager for being so tired. “Ruff!”

Love and contempt fight for primacy in Kione’s bosom. It’s strange how accustomed she’s becoming to those two emotions coexisting. She wants Sartha to be so much more than this, even as she adores her being lesser. In the end, a perverse sense of pride sweeps through Kione’s mood.

She remembered! She remembered not to speak. Who could ask for a better pet?

“Good girl,” Kione purrs gleefully. “You’re doing so well. Almost perfect, in fact. You’re just missing one last piece.”

There’s one other thing Kione got at the commissary. Something that really got her some looks from the quartermaster sitting behind the counter. Kione plucks it out of her pocket now, already giggling at the thought.

A butt plug. With a long, canine tail attached to the other end.

“Turn around,” Kione orders. “Ass up.”

Shaking with need, Sartha obliges. While she turns, Kione uses her spit to get the plug nice and slick. Then she bends down and pushes it all the way into Sartha’s ass. Sartha yields to her without question, but then her legs almost give way from the sensation, and she lets out a wild, throaty moan that fills the dim corridor. Kione can’t help but notice that Sartha seems used to being taken this way. Jealousy rises in her. She would rather not picture all the ways imperial pilots have been using her.

“Quiet, slut,” Kione snarls coldly. “Unless you’re really that eager to be overheard.”

The pathetic little whine Sartha lets out fixes her mood at once. She really is being loud, though. If she carries on like this, it’s almost inevitable that someone will overhear them. Suddenly Kione wonders about that.

“Maybe you actually are,” Kione muses. “Is that what you want, dog? You want people to see you? Hear you?”

“Aarrfff,” is the only reply Sartha can give. Kione can’t tell if it’s meant to indicate yes or no—but it’s certainly eager. Sartha is incapable of anything but eagerness. Her eyes are as wide and shiny as any puppy. Her shivering is now more pleasure than anything else, and Kione can see rivulets of drool trickling down her chin behind her muzzle.

Sartha is lost to this. She’s exactly where she wants to be. Maybe she really does want to be discovered. Maybe that would be a release for her, or an ending. Kione finds herself craving that same ending more powerfully than she had expected. She fights to keep a tight rein on the self-destructive impulse. Not now. Not when they’ve both come so far. She’ll give Sartha a climax, oh yes. But of another kind.

She’ll make sure that, for a little while, there’s no Sartha at all.

“Sartha,” Kione says. Her tone is enough to make Sartha yip with glee. “Off The Leash.” Kione giggles. “Not that you’ll be coming off this leash any time soon.”

She’s growing used to Sartha’s dissolution, but that doesn’t stop it from feeling like a fresh miracle each time. The way Kione appreciates the transformations keeps changing, though. More and more, she finds beauty in it. When she wields those three wonderful words against Sartha Thrace, she is a sculptor with a chisel, cleaving away at all the rough edges and imperfections of her. Removing what is not needed. Removing what is impure. Her hero’s facade, made a lie of so many times. Her confident stance, her smug grin, her warm smile, her hopeful eyes—all of them made meaningless by the ravages of the handler’s brainwashing. The gossamer-thin facade of personhood, which she is so much better without.

It breaks away. It falls apart. In its wake, there is nothing.

In its wake, there is the hound.

There is no confusion in Hound when she wakes. She understands her place perfectly. Kneeling, muzzled, collared. Beyond the obvious eagerness and adoration, there’s a kind of comfort in her dull, brainwashed eyes as she looks up at Kione. This is exactly where she belongs. All is right with the world. To her, the dehumanization is a balm. She doesn’t want to walk on two legs, because that’s what people do. She doesn’t want to speak in words, because that’s what people do. Better to be this. A thing. A weapon. A pet.

Kione’s heart aches in love for her. Sartha’s better half. Sartha’s truest self.

“Come along,” Kione says sweetly, adoringly. “You deserve to stretch your legs too, puppy.”

Kione turns her back again and begins to walk. The same awkward pace as before—only now, for Hound, it’s infinitely harder. The way she has to move her hips with each scrambling step works her new tail around inside her, prompting high, vicious moans from her lips and drooling droplets of wetness from her cunt. After just a short distance, she’s shivering violently, plainly struggling to keep herself from collapsing onto her belly.

It’s so wonderful. Kione keeps grinning and laughing unsteadily. She’s so hot, and so pathetic, and so needy, and so easy, and she’s all hers. Kione must be merciless with her.

“Keep up,” she warns, and yanks on the leash.

Hound does, although it’s almost more than she can take. Her panted moans turn ever more whined and strained, and her whole face is drenched with sweat and drool. Taken with her bruises, she’s never looked less like a person. The tail is the final touch, of course; as Hound moves, it sways from side to side to match her gait, just about stiff enough to stick a little way into the air when she fully extends her hips. It’s ridiculous and frivolous and hot and absolutely fucking humiliating all at the same time. Kione keeps giggling over and over again.

“R-rarf!” Hound bleats, as her legs give way. From the arch of her spine and the helpless tremble of her thighs, Kione can tell right away what happened: she came.

A crooked smirk comes to Kione’s face. Just from that? Adorable.

“I said,” she hisses, “keep up!”

Kione barely misses a beat before she yanks the leash again—hard. Hard enough to drag Hound’s limp body across the cold, rough ground for a pace. It’s not a choking collar, but even so, nobody likes being dragged around by the neck. By the time Hound has recovered enough to claw her way back up onto her knees, her face is a deep, pained red and there are scrapes down her shins.

But she makes it. She catches up.

“Good girl!” Only now does Kione pause. She reaches down, she ruffles Hound’s hair, she pets her for all she’s worth. “Oh, aren’t you a good girl? Who’s a good dog? You. Yes, you are. Yes, you are!”

The look of stupid, lovestruck, praise-drunk glee on Hound’s face makes it all so very worth it. And it might just be from the pleasure or the cold, but Kione still adores the way that Hound looks for all the world like she’s wagging that dumb little tail of hers.

“Let’s head back to my room,” Kione decides. She’s gotten exactly what she wanted out of this little excursion—and besides, Hound looks exhausted. “This way. Should take us a full circuit.”

She leads the way. Slower, this time, to let Hound crawl more comfortably at her side. Kione still holds the leash tight, though, so it tugs on her a little with each step. She knows Hound will appreciate it. Walking just like that, they make it almost all the way back to Kione’s quarters, before Kione notices something dangerous.

An open door. A light. And voices.

It’s the rec room. It’s unusual for anyone to be in there so late, but not unheard of. Sometimes soldiers find themselves sleepless, and in need of company. As they come to the doorway, Kione comes to a halt. Two people inside, from the sound of it. She thinks she recognizes the voice of Pela, Sartha’s fangirl. Less sure about the other person. It seems like they’re sitting a fair way distant from the door. Probably facing away from it, too. It should be easy enough to pass quickly and quietly, without anybody taking any notice.

But…

A wicked mood takes Kione. Was their little walk really enough for Sartha? She’s used to much worse; of that, Kione’s certain. Used to being watched, too. Kione can’t quite suppress a hint of disappointment over the fact that nobody happened across them during their walk. It would have been a disaster, of course. But she wanted to see what might have happened.

“Hound,” Kione instructs quietly. “In the doorway. Now.”

She doesn’t even need the gentle leash-tug Kione provides for guidance. Unquestioning, unhesitant, Hound crawls into the doorway. The yellow light within spills out onto her face, leaving a long, canine shadow behind. Hound shivers. Even now, it seems, she retains a certain pilot’s instinct, flooding her with adrenaline.

She’s exposed.

And what a sight she’d be, down a mech suit’s targeting scope. The slower pace Kione struck was easier on her, but there’s only so easy moving can get with something so large and intrusive inside her. Hound is stuck on a permanent hair trigger, and her body is already covered with proof of her deprivations. Bruises, scrapes, sweat, drool, her own slickness. She’s a mess—and then, of course, there’s the muzzle itself.

What would any of the rebels say if they saw that?

The rictus grin is carved so deep into Kione’s face that it hurts. Maybe she’ll finally get to find out.

“Up,” she hisses, not loud enough to risk anyone overhearing. “Sit.”

A pair of heartbeats pass as Hound works her fucked-up brain to try to figure out what kind of pose Kione wants from her. But she gets there in the end. Hound straightens her back and then lifts herself up, balanced precariously on the balls of her feet, her torso bared into the rec room.

Still, Kione can hear voices coming from inside.

“Go on,” she urges gleefully. “Paws up, too”.

It doesn’t matter how dumb and humiliating Kione’s orders get, there’s no question that Hound will obey. Trembling, fighting for balance, Hound lifts her arms up to around her shoulders, wrists hung limply to make her hands into feeble, ludicrous impressions of paws.

Kione is about to bust a gut laughing. At this point, if anyone hears anything, it’s going to be her dying of laughter. Not that she isn’t also insanely turned on. That’s always a given, with Hound.

“Legs apart,” Kione orders next. She’s grinning so wide she’s showing teeth. Her voice sounds wet. “Let’s give your friends a good show.”

A drooling whimper comes from Hound’s lips as she spreads her thighs apart, adopting a truly pornographic, bow-legged pose that sends shocks of pleasure up her spine as her butt plug digs all the way in. A moment more, and she can’t take it. Can’t keep the pleasure in.

She moans.

Kione’s heart stops. Did someone hear? She isn’t sure. The voices from inside the rec room have stopped—which could be a red flag. The last warning Kione is going to get that they need to get the hell out of there. True, Kione might be able to talk her way out of it. Excuse what she’s doing with Sartha as some kinky sex that got out of hand. But there are those who would immediately see in Sartha’s muzzle something far, far more sinister. Anyone who saw Sartha as they brought her in from the rescue, or who participated in her rehabilitation. Kione should put a stop to this, right now.

But she doesn’t. She doesn’t want to.

The ludicrous risk of what she’s doing crashes over Kione. When her heart beats again, it’s in her throat? What is the point of this? Gratification? Hers, or Sartha’s? She’s risking everything. All her progress. All her efforts to reclaim Sartha from the handler’s jaws, just so she can… get her off?

It doesn’t make sense. She can’t make it make sense. But she can’t stop, either.

The voices from within the rec room resume. A reprieve. Clearly, it’s time to end this madness.

But then Kione looks at Hound.

Fuck. She’s a mess. She’s such a mess. And she looks so fucking turned on by it, too. By the abjection and dehumanization. By being turned into a stupid, exhibitionist bitch for Kione’s amusement. Beneath her, a small but distinct puddle of her wetness has formed on the floor, and she’s got a look on her muzzled face like she’s riding the edge again. Like she craves discovery every bit as much as Kione does.

Before the merc can think better of it, the order slips out.

“Speak.”

“Rrrrarf!”

The eager yip erupts instantly out of Hound’s throat. Ever the good dog. Ever obedient. At once, she tenses up and, for the second time, cums her bitch brains out all over the floor. It makes Kione moan her laughter—even as the voices from inside the rec room cut off for the second time.

“Hey?” someone calls out. “Who’s there?”

A chair shifts.

Immediately, Kione’s instincts take over. “Quick,” she hisses, and for good measure she yanks hard on Hound’s leash while she’s still in the throes of orgasm. Beleaguered, Hound does her best to walk, to crawl, to keep up with Kione as she hurries away from the rec room. Luckily, the next corner is only a few paces away. Not far beyond it is Kione’s quarters, and safety.

Kione’s heart is still pounding something fierce. She’s terrified—but she’s grinning too. She’s never felt more alive. She’s never felt more in tune with Sartha Thrace, with Hound, with her dog, with her love.

“I love you,” she says quietly, swept away in the moment.

She hopes to hear it back. But of course, dogs don’t talk. All she gets in return is an eager, doting “Arf!” from Hound.

It’s just as good. It’s perfect. The night has been perfect. Kione knows, more than ever, that she is Sartha’s, and Sartha is hers.

Her only regret is that she couldn’t be there to catch the looks on those rebels’ faces when they stumble upon the mess Sartha left for them.

***

“I win.”

Kione actually feels the truth of her boast as she stares up at the viewscreen that’s displaying an image of the imperial handler. She’s in Theaboros this time, not Ancyor. Copied over the comm codes. Continuing to slip into Sartha’s mech seemed unwise. Arguably, letting this bloodless ghoul into Theaboros is even more unwise, but Kione’s pretty sure her systems are secure and untraceable. Besides, if talking to the handler is a red line, it’s one Kione has already crossed.

And how is that?

Above her, the handler is a monolith. She looks exactly the same as when Kione last saw her. Not a single hair is out of place. Not a single hair seems to move as she opens her mouth to speak. She is one with her black leather uniform; the coat, the cap, the way they frame her icy face. She is perfection itself.

Kione wants very, very badly to see that composure of hers shatter like glass. She wants to do it somewhere Sartha can see. She wants to ruin her in Sartha Thrace’s eyes.

“I asked her,” Kione brags. “Just like you said. I got Sartha’s secret. I know what she is—and I’m still here.”

What is her secret?

A shiver races across Kione. She is being weighed and measured. She puffs herself up.

“She wants this,” Kione answers. “Deep in Sartha’s soul, she wants what’s happening to her. You brought that desire to the fore, yes, but it was always there. She needs Hound, because otherwise the sheer hypocrisy of her being would tear her apart. But it’s a mask she wears willingly. She’s… happy, like this. In a way.”

The handler nods. Her smile sharpens. She’s impressed. Kione grows warm.

Correct. Sartha Thrace’s spirit grew thin under the weight of her own weariness. She conceived a broken longing for freedom—from strength, from expectations, from the burdens of heroism. From humanity itself. That is exactly what I gave to her. On some level, she wanted it. That was enough.

Another shiver. Kione’s heart is beating the way it usually only does in combat. When she flies Theaboros high above the battlefield, looking down on all the rest of humanity, she is gifted with a delicious sense of superiority. This is no different.

“It’s… it’s why there’s no fixing her.” It’s the first time Kione’s said that out loud. That truth should weigh heavy on her, but she feels as light as a feather. Talking to the handler like this feels like sparring. It’s energizing. “She doesn’t want to be fixed. She knows she can’t carry all that weight again.”

Just so.

“But.” Kione glares daggers at the viewscreen. “I can still save her from you.”

The handler laughs, just once. A quiet sound. Snow trampled into ice underfoot.

She does not want to be saved, either.

“No,” Kione admits. “But she deserves it. For… for who she used to be. At least I actually give a shit about her. At least I won’t make her betray her own people.”

I assure you, I care for her deeply. Regardless, what makes you so confident that you can—as you put it—save her?

“Because she loves me,” Kione answers firmly. She was ready for this. She rehearsed her answers in the shower. “And I love her. I’m… still learning how to do that, exactly. But I can give her what she wants. Last night, I stripped her naked and walked her around the rebel base. Muzzle, leash, tail. And she fucking loved it, and I took care of her afterwards. I can give her everything she wants. She doesn’t need you anymore.”

Fascinating. The handler’s smile is like a needle. I have a question for you. After your walk with Sartha, did you fuck her again?

“What?” Kione splutters. That takes her entirely off-guard. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you need all the lurid details to jerk off to or something?”

The handler smiles politely. It’s simply a question. We’ve already discussed your proclivities—and hers.

Kione finds herself red in the face. Gods, it’s like talking about sex with a teacher. Or a priest.

“I’m not answering that,” she growls. “I don’t have to give you shit.”

I see.

And she really does. That’s the truly awful part. She sees all of Kione. Her blue eyes flash with something, and Kione has never felt more seen. The color of the stars, perhaps.

You aren’t embarrassed because you fucked her. You’re embarrassed because you didn’t.

“The fu-“ Kione has to fight to calm herself, but it’s hard when she suddenly feels cold all over. “H-how do you know that?”

Tell me why. Why not use her?

Her words are a fishhook down Kione’s throat. Before she can think better of it, she finds herself answering.

“It seemed…” she spends a moment grasping for the word, “perfunctory.”

The handler nods thoughtfully. Say more.

“And…” Kione’s brow tightens. She had not thought to put a name to the feelings that moved her to release her urges on her own time, rather than with Sartha. But she must find the words now. She must master herself. She has so much to prove. “For me… demeaning?”

She didn’t mean for it to come out like a question, but it did. The handler lets it hang in the air for a moment. Kione has time to ask herself why she’s so stupidly fucking nervous, and the answer only unsettles her further.

She’s nervous because she’s waiting for approval.

You’re doing very well with her indeed. It’s true that Sartha has been conditioned to crave sexual gratification and objectification, but it needn’t be from you, in quite such a… direct fashion. You will find that she prefers a certain separation. Authority is as essential to her as degradation. Beasts fuck other beasts. Their master provides something altogether different.

Kione nods slowly as she absorbs that. It doesn’t occur to her to doubt it. She would never dream of trusting the handler, but she hasn’t misled her yet. Besides, Kione feels as though she’s already seen much of that in Sartha. It all stands to reason. The harder part is maintaining her grip on her own emotions as she digests. She doesn’t want the handler’s praise to feel good.

But it does.

“Well, thanks for the notes,” Kione says sarcastically. Brashness is her refuge. “Really helpful. But I think I’m good, actually. No need for any more of these delightful little chats. I just wanted to give you a friendly heads-up. Sartha’s mine. I win.”

How amusing. What makes you so sure that she won’t come running back to me the very first time she hears my voice?

Kione’s blood freezes.

“I… she won’t,” she replies lamely.

Why not?

“Because… because she loves me!”

I can make her love me instead.

Cold, then hot. Kione’s fighting not to throw up. She’s embarrassed that’s all it took to plunge her into a panic attack, and the shame only deepens her struggle. She can feel sweat on her brow. No. No, no, no. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Not love. She loves me.

Me.

I’m the one who saved her, Kione. I’m the one who broke her in the precise way she most needed to be broken. You forget yourself. You believe that because you hold on the other end of the leash, you are my equal. You are not. You are a pale imitation. I know it. You know it. Sartha knows it.

A nightmare unfolds before Kione. She sees it happening. Sartha, running away from her. Towards the loathsome, beautiful creature on the viewscreen before her. Slipping Kione’s leash. She’d be eager. It’d be a homecoming. And all the words in the world couldn’t stop her.

It’s a knife in Kione’s heart. She starts fumbling for the hatch release to her cockpit. It doesn’t even occur to her to end the transmission. This place feels more like it’s the handler’s domain than her own. She can’t breathe. She can’t believe she was so stupidly fucking cocky. She needs to get out of here.

Calm yourself, Kione. I meant what I said: you’re doing well. But you’re still finding your footing. You must go much, much deeper if you wish to make Sartha Thrace truly yours. Don’t worry. Did you forget? I promised you that I’d help you. I always keep my promises.

Kione can just about hear her words over the sound of her own pounding heart. “How?” she asks thickly, before realizing that’s the wrong question. “No… why? Why pretend you’re fucking helping me?”

Because you and I are not entirely dissimilar. And I would hate to see someone else with such rare qualities remain so aimless.

“We’re nothing alike,” Kione growls. She can’t hear this. Not when she’s already so fucking angry. Being made anxious always gets her angry.

You should hope to be wrong about that. If you’re right, you stand no chance.

“Fuck you.” A furious spray of Kione’s spit hits the viewscreen. “Fuck you! I don’t care what you have to say. I’m gonna beat you. Understand me? I am going to reach into Sartha’s head and rip you out of it. I don’t care how deep I have to go. I don’t care what I have to do. I will tear your face and your voice out of her memories. I will make her hate you. I. Will. Win. Bet your fucking ass on that.”

All the anger in the world wouldn’t have made the handler flinch. Kione should have known that; now, as the corners of her lips turn upward, Kione merely feels petty in her rage. Still, petty is better than panicking.

I am no gambler, but you can call it a wager if that makes you more comfortable. I admit, there’s a certain charm to the idea. Sartha Thrace is the game, and the prize. If you can take her from me, I invite you to do so. I’ll even show you how. Your next lesson is already on its way.

Before Kione can question the sinister implications of that, the handler makes her another, even darker promise.

But one day—and it will not be so very far off—I will come for her. Mark me well, Kione. I will come for her. I will come at your worst moment, to call Sartha back to my side. And if you are not prepared for me, you will lose everything.

Strangely, Kione’s heart has begun to slow. A game. A wager. A challenge. She can handle that. Kione’s life has been nothing but challenges. That’s life, as a mercenary. Nobody’s ever had her back, and it’s never kept her from winning. Kione meant what she said. Whatever it takes. She’ll learn every lesson. She thinks back to that night she had her hands wrapped tight around Sartha’s throat. Kione knows that moment was the cusp of something. A metamorphosis. She gazed into the darkest black, and held its stare. There is nothing she is not capable of.

For love. For Sartha.

Kione nods. It’s on. But as she girds herself to cross the threshold and enter the handler’s world, another question comes to her. Another why. An embarrassing one, really. One any sane person would have asked right at the start. Kione feels almost childish as she asks it—but she really does need to know.

“Why do this?” Kione says quietly. “Like… any of this, I mean. Turning people into… like that. I can’t even imagine… I get it, it’s useful. It works. But, fuck, how did you ever even begin to think of something like that?”

The handler raises an eyebrow. She’s not truly taken aback, but the question seems to have surprised her a little. Perhaps it’s just the incredulous simplicity of it. The tall, black-clad corpse of a woman takes her time to properly consider before answering; before speaking the words that take root inside Kione and grow there like a tumor.

Kione, the handler says slowly, and with great weight. Haven’t you ever moved through your life and felt like you were surrounded by nothing but dogs?

---

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#story #warhound

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soxciety · 4 months ago

Text

chapter two. unknown place

summary. When Song Ha-Yoon wakes up in an unknown location, only to find out she has to play games to win a substantial amount of money.

word count. 1420

contents

The soft melody of classical music was the first thing Ha-Yoon heard when she woke up. The girl groaned as she used her hands to clear her eyes. Once her vision was clear and she was fully awake, Ha-Yoon sat up, only to find herself in an unfamiliar place. Her eyes darted around the room, surveying her surroundings, while her hands gripped the blanket tightly.

The room she was in was a bright, rectangular space with metal-framed bunk beds lining the walls. She noticed other people waking up, all dressed in various types of tracksuits. Ha-Yoon looked closer and saw a number on the left side of their jackets. When she glanced down, she realized she had been assigned the number 127. A weight in her pocket caught her attention, and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she reached in to discover a hard object. Pulling it out, she found it was the wooden duck her brother had carved for her some time ago. A smile graced her face as she reminisced about that moment.

On October 15th, 2022, Ha-Yoon celebrated her 17th birthday. Her parents had arranged for her and her younger brother, Song Ju-Won, to attend a wood carving workshop, also known as whittling, and she couldn't be more excited. Wood carving has been one of Ha-Yoon's passions since childhood, and she proudly displays a collection of her work in her room. She refers to them as her prized possessions.

Knocking the girl out of her thoughts was her younger brother tapping her shoulder to inform her that they had arrived. Ha-Yoon stepped out of the car with a smile, trying to conceal her excitement as she already knew what she was going to carve. The night before, Ha-Yoon and her brother had decided to carve something for each other and then swap their creations once they were both finished. She had chosen to carve a tiger, a symbol of bravery in Korea, because her brother had been diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia, a type of blood cancer. Ju-Won had been undergoing extensive rounds of chemotherapy, and Ha-Yoon wanted to give him this tiger as a sign of his courage during this challenging time and to encourage him not to give up.

A loud blare of an alarm jolted Ha-Yoon from her thoughts, a frown etched on her face as she recalled that moment, her hands nervously fiddling with the carving. After placing the duck back into her pocket, Ha-Yoon decided to follow the other players. She climbed down from her bunk and maneuvered her way toward the forming crowd, managing to push near the front. The doors at the front slid open, revealing around nine workers, all dressed in pink jumpsuits and black masks adorned with various shapes—most featuring circles, while the one in the center displayed a square.

The square worker stepped forward and said, "I would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you." Ha-Yoon frowned, feeling uneasy about the situation. "Everyone here will participate in six different games over six days." Faint murmurs could be heard as the square worker spoke.

"Those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize." As soon as the cash prize was announced, Ha-Yoon noticed people's eyes brighten with excitement.

"Excuse me," a slightly deep voice interrupted the square. Everyone turned to see where the voice originated, with Ha-Yoon rising onto her tiptoes to get a better view. She spotted a woman with a sleek black bob and the number 120 emblazoned on her jacket. 'She's so pretty,' Ha-Yoon thought. Player 120 stepped down, saying, "You said I'd be playing games, but you practically kidnapped me. How can I believe that?" The crowd shifted their attention back to the front; she had a valid point.

"I apologise. Please understand that it was necessary to maintain the game's security." Square continued.

Another voice calls out from the crowd, "What's with the mask then?" Everyone turns to see an older woman. "Is your face also a secret?"

The man beside her also shouted, "Yeah! Why are you hiding your face? Is this some illegal gambling house?"

"Even the dealers don't cover their faces in those places," the woman exclaims.

It falls silent once more, and the square begins to speak: "To ensure fair gameplay and confidentiality, it is our policy not to reveal the faces and identities of staff. Please understand."

While more people began to ask the worker questions, all Ha-Yoon could think about was how she was truly starting to regret her decision to come here. It was a man's voice next to her that brought her back to reality.

"What about my phone?" he asks as he pushes his way to the front. "Why did you take my phone and wallet? Give them back, please."

"We're keeping your belongings safe. We'll return them once the games are over"

"At least give me my phone. I need to check the crypto market. If I lose money, will you compensate me?"

"We will return it to you once the games are over." The worker repeats.

"I need to monitor the real-time prices! Do you know how much I've invested?" Ha-Yoon huffs, rolling her eyes and wishing he would just give up.

"Player 333, Lee Myung-gi," the square man announces, raising his arm to click the remote in his hand. The large television above them flickers to life, displaying footage of him playing ddakji with a well-dressed man. "Age 30, used to run a youtube channel called MG Coin. After convincing subscribers to invest in a new crypto coin called Dalmatian, causing losses of approximately 15.2 billion won, you shut down and disappeared." Ha-Yoon's eyes widened as she scanned the room, noticing several people looking shocked. One individual stood out: a man with purple hair and the number 230 emblazoned on his jacket. Ha-Yoon recognized him as the retired rapper, Thanos. His eyebrows raised in surprise and intrigue.

"You're wanted for fraud and for violating telecom and financial investment laws. Current debt levels, 1.8 billion won."

"Player 196, Kang Mi-na, 45 million won in debt."

"Player 120, Cho Hyun-ju, 330 million won in debt."

"Player 230, Choi Su-bong, 1.19 billion won in debt."

"Player 198, Jang do-yeong, 1.4 billion won in debt."

"Player 127, Song Ha-yoon, 17 years old, is here to clear her parents' debt of 1 billion won." Ha-yoon's eyes widened upon hearing her name. She blushed and lowered her head as everyone turned to look at her—some with expressions of pity and others in shock at her youth. However, the murmurs quickly ceased when the square man made an even more shocking announcement.

"Player 100, Im Jeong-dae, 10 billion won in debt." Shocked murmurs sounded out, everyone turning to find him. Ha-yoon's jaw dropped as soon as it was mentioned: 10 billion won?

"What are you looking at? Do you think it's easy to get a ten-billion-won loan? They don't lend that kind of money to just anyone! Only to those who are capable of paying it back." The voice behind Ha-yoon shouted, causing her to jump in surprise.

"All of you in this room have crippling debts and are now on a cliff-edge. When we first came to you, you did not trust us either. But as you know, we played a game and gave you money as promised. And so you trusted us and volunteered to participate according to your own free will." Ha-yoon sighed, shifting from one foot to another, getting bored of the talking.

"You have one last chance to decide. Do you want to live like a piece of trash, running from creditors? Or will you seize the last opportunity we are offering?"

The lights dimmed as a plastic, gold piggy bank, illuminated from within, descended from the ceiling, casting a warm golden hue across the room. Everyone looked up, their eyes widening in surprise.

"What you see now is the piggy bank where your valuable prize money will be stored. After each of the six games you will play, the prize money will accumulate in this piggy bank."

"How much is the prize money?"

"The prize money for the games is 45.6 billion won in total."

Ha-yoon's eyes widened; 45.6 billion won is more than enough to clear the debts and get Mr. Kim and his men off her and her parents' backs. She needs this money. A look of determination crosses her face as more thoughts swirl around in her head.

She will win these games.

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scarisd3ad · 10 months ago

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To the end and back | Daryl Dixon x reader

Chapter twenty six | I love you, I’m sorry

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Warnings - ANGST! Guns, and shooting, Death, mentions of sex, cursing, usual twd warnings

Summary - after the world ended you were sure you’d never find love again but a certain archer catches your eyes and changes the entire trajectory of your life.

(A/N) - it’s finally here! Yay I’ve been working on this chapter since may and I’m so happy I’ve finally finished it. I know progress with my fics have been moving a little slower that they usually do but I’m hoping fingers crossed 🤞that I am able to speed the process up a little in the coming months 🫶🏻 also finally introducing the governor as the readers father in this chapter, I kind of hinted at it last chapter, to play around with the idea of it being canon. And I really like the ideas and situations I’ve came up in my head to put them in.

‘The suicide king’

S3 ep 9

Daryl is unbagged and pushed forward towards the middle of the arena. Merle and Daryl stand frozen, their eyes scanning the crowd in utter disbelief. The deafening sound of boos and heckles echoes throughout the arena, drowning out any other noise. Daryl's chest is heaving, faster and faster with each shout made from the audience of people. A blonde woman is attempting to force her way through a group of people, most likely the Governor's personal bodyguards, to get closer to him.

She manages to get through the first set before a surprise second set grabs her up before she can even get to his side. The governor - or maybe I should just start calling him Philip - because I finally know who the man behind the oh-so-mysterious name 'the governor' is. It's funny, I've been looking for this man for the last, what? 20 years of my life and I'm able to find him not even a year into the apocalypse so easily. How could he avoid his kids for 20 years in the old world, but he couldn't even last a year without me finding him now?

I really want to know how my father, Philip Blake, ended up being some dictator for a survivor's refugee camp. I almost want to laugh at how 'badass' he looks right now. makeshift eyepatch over one eye, as he looked over all his people so proud to be an asshole. My father was never much of a threat, but god he tried to be, though he really tried. I didn't hear much about my dad growing up, my maternal grandpa always muttered about how he was "such an asshole of a man", but the one thing I did hear from my paternal grandmother was that he ended up skipping town got some stupid office job and started a new family. it was all some bullshit about needing to start over, without my 'slut of a mother'.

His arm raises, so it's pointing towards Merle. The people of Woodbury immediately quiet down as their leader begins to speak. "I asked where your loyalties lie. You said here." Daryl was finally let out of whatever shackles that were placed around his arms, letting them fall to his sides freely. "Well, prove it. Prove it to us all." My blood runs cold.

"Brother against brother," he says with a dry chuckle. The crowd copies their leader, letting out a small chuckle that's paired with a quiet "yeah."

"Winner goes free" the crowd cheers at that, probably hoping and praying that Merle is able to win. Even though Merle was now deemed possibly 'unloyal' in the governor's eyes, it was still the better option for them. If Daryl died, Merle would have absolutely no reason to want to help us. Merle would go back to being Philip's loyal righthand man, and we, the 'terrorists' would be dead. Glenn had already told them our location and they would be marching up to our door with pitchforks in no time. Philip walks towards Merle shouting "Fight to the death!" as he does so. The crowd cheers once again. This was a scene taken straight out of one of those shitty medieval times shows.

The blonde woman finally turns, revealing her whole face to me. Andrea, the woman I thought I had accidentally left for dead, was here? Of all places, how did she end up here? Well, she had already shown us she didn't care about being led by an asshole, and if she was as close with Philip as she seems, she should already know how much of an asshole he was. "Philip, please. Don't do this," Andrea pleads, as one of Philips's men holds her back. "Don't do this!" He doesn't even glance at her, choosing instead to keep his eye on his prey. He glares at the two men standing in front of him, a smirk on his face that shows he truly enjoys this. The torture. He doesn't even have to do it himself, he just has to sit back and watch.

Merle raises his hand in the air before shouting "Y'all know me!" the crowd cheers, and I can see the absolute look of betrayal on Daryl's face. "I'm gonna do whatever I got to do to prove..." He hesitates for a moment before swinging his arm back and delivering a forceful punch to Daryl's stomach. With a loud grunt, Daryl collapses to the ground, and the crowd erupts in excitement. I stand frozen, unable to believe what I'm witnessing. how could he do that? Do that to his brother? "Holy shit," Jack gasps as Daryl begins to push himself up off of the ground. "That's my loyalty to this town!" just as Daryl has gotten his head off of the ground, Merle kicks him, sending him right back onto the ground.

Daryl lies motionless on his back, his chest heaving up and down with a faint rhythm. My eyes are fixed on him, hesitant to glance away, as if by doing so I might miss the final moments of his life. Merle continues throwing blow after blow as Philip watches on the sidelines with a sick look on his face. The crowd cheers as they lead out a walker. It's practically on a leash as some man, probably another one of Philips's men, leads him toward Daryl and Merle.

Finally, Daryl throws a punch. It's towards Merle's ankles but it gets him somewhere. It gets Daryl back onto his feet. Daryl launches himself toward Merle, tackling him, or at least trying to, but Merle has a leg up in this competition. merle gets Daryl down to the ground first. Both men have their hands around each other's necks as three of Philips's men lead three walkers towards them.

I don't even know what to do to help Daryl out. I could cause some type of distraction. If something more dangerous happens, it could give Daryl the freedom to escape. My eyes fall to my bag. I open it up and grab my gun right as Daryl and Merle get back to their feet. The two are working together to defeat the walkers.

My ammunition is running dangerously low, but my determination to save Daryl is unwavering. I'm willing to take the risk and use my last bullet to help him escape. My breaths come in quick and shallow as I raise my gun, my hands trembling with apprehension. I take aim at a man standing near Philip. I let out one more shaky breath before pressing the trigger and letting the bullet fly out of the gun and toward the man. Luckily for me, my aim was amazing today. The bullet tears right through his skull. Everyone around him screams as he falls to the ground with a thud.

Suddenly, someone behind Jack and I start shooting rounds into the arena, which makes even more of a ruckus. As I turned around to glance behind me, my eyes fell on Maggie, who was casually leaning against the top of the cold metal dumpster that was situated behind us. She shoots round after round into the arena. I let out a sigh of relief and began running back towards her. rick throws one of his smoke bombs, and Maggie continues to shoot. All I can hear is the sound of the automatic rifle and screams. Everyone's scattering like flies. Rick looks up at me, his mouth is open as if he's about to ask me something before his eyes flick to Jack who's stood behind me. "Who's that?"

"Old friend... he helped me," I reply. Rick continues to stare at Jack, scrutinizing him from head to toe as if he's trying to find a reason not to like him. I already know what he's going to ask. "Is he one of the governor's men?" I quickly respond, "He was just a resident and didn't know anything about what was going on, right Jack?" Jack nods, muttering a quiet "mhm."

Daryl and Merle sprint towards us while Rick urges, "Daryl, let's go!" Without wasting any time, we all take off at full speed, our hearts pounding with fear of being spotted by Philip or his men. The only sound that can be heard is our pounding footsteps on the ground as we race towards safety.

We manage to escape the arena and run back into the main town area. We were cautious as we walked around, hoping everyone was in the arena, but there was no actual way to know, so we were as careful as we could.

"they're all at the arena, this way!!" Merle instructs, attempting to lead us toward an exit. Rick was quick to shoot down the idea of Merle going with us. "you're not going anywhere with us!" he growls. "You really want to do this now?!" Merle asks as he runs towards the fence, attempting to pry apart the metal, as Rick and Daryl stand guard. I pray to God Rick won't say anything about Jack going with us. I don't want him to stay here, knowing the possible doomed future of Woodbury.

Finally, Merle manages to pull apart the metal, leaving a nicely sized hole in its wake. We all slipped through without a problem, but we're only met with walkers on the opposite side. "A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE!" Merle shouts as he beats a walker to death with his prosthetic arm. Daryl was quick to pitch in, shooting a walker with his bow. I pull my gun out, shooting off my last bullet into a walker's head, "We ain't got time for this!" before beginning to sprint off.

I stand motionless next to Jack, anticipation building as we await instructions from Rick. "let's go!" Daryl shouts once it's been more than a few seconds, Rick, Maggie, and I not moving. I'm glad Daryl hasn't asked about Jack yet. Maybe it's just because he's too busy to realize. But I hope he never mentions it. I'm scared he'll get mad, or jealous. He's just a friend now, hell we were tiptoeing around a breakup when the outbreak started. But I don't know how Daryl is with exes. I know he can get jealous; he has many times before. Normally, I can predict what he'll do in certain situations, but with Jack, I just don't know how Daryl will react. rick folds, deciding to follow after Merle rather than die.

The walk back to the car is long. My hands are in my pockets as I trail behind a bit, with everyone else at least a few feet ahead of me. I don't mean to eavesdrop, but I can't help but overhear Merle and Daryl's conversation. "sooo, wha's up with you'n tha' bitch?" Merle asks, his head tilting back, so it points towards me. My heart stops, wondering what Daryl would say. Would he refer to me as his girlfriend? Even though we already had discussed what our relationship was, and I was confident in my role as Daryl's girlfriend, I was scared that he'd be embarrassed to admit that we were in a relationship with his older brother.

Daryl's quiet for a few seconds, giving his brother enough time to throw in another comment. "You to fuckin' around or something?" Daryl chuckles left hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Um...I guess me'n her are together," he says with a shrug. Merle almost immediately bursts out in a booming fit of laughter, which makes Rick turn around and glare. I don't understand what's so funny. Was it so farfetched that Daryl and I were dating? I can see the back of Daryl's ears turn a bright red as his hands nervously play with the hem of his shirt. "yer datin' her! ain't she fuckin' that Chinese boy?" I almost scoff at Merle's assumption. I can almost hear Daryl's eyes roll as he says, "Nah... they're just friends."

"ya sure? I remem-" Daryl's quick to shut Merle down once again "I'm sure"

It's about 20 minutes later when we end up back at the other side of the large acre of woods where we parked the car. As we approach the car, Rick whisper yells out Glenn's name, which makes both Glenn and Michonne get up and run to us. "Oh, thank god," Glenn sighs out as he approaches us. Rick was quick to squash the inkling of relief that Glenn had by revealing our newfound problems. "Now we got a problem here. I need you to back up." the moment Merle's face comes into Glenn's sigh, his face instantly contorted into anger "What the hell is he doing here!" Michonne pulls out her Katana in an effort to protect herself, and Daryl, he's quick to begin yelling in an effort to protect his older brother. There is a gun pointed at almost everyone in the group. "are you guys always like this?" Jack mutters quietly, "Always," I reply with an eye roll.

Everyone is yelling over each other; I can barely understand one word that's coming out of anyone's mouth. "Yeah, right after he beat the shit out of you," Rick scoffs, while I cross my arms over my chest, feeling absolute annoyance simmering inside me. "Hey, we both took our licks, man," Merle chuckles as his back presses against the tree behind him. "Jackass" Daryl scoffs with an eye roll. merle pushes himself off the tree. "Hey shut up!" Merle shouts back at his brother, his voice filled with pure annoyance. The brotherly squabble is quickly shut down by Rick with a loud "Enough!" but that just turns into another fight. "Hey! hey! Relax! Put that down!" Rick shouts at Michonne, who's got her Katana pointed at him. "Get that thing out of my face!" Daryl shouts, swatting at Glenn's gun.

Merle laughs. "Man, look like you've gone native, brother." Daryl turns around, his anger now fully directed at his brother. "NO more than you hangin' out with that psycho back there." Merle just has a smirk on his face, mainly just to piss Daryl off even more. "oh, yeah, man. He is a charmer, I got to tell you that. been puttin' the wood to your girlfriend Andrea big time, baby." Merle said eye's making direct contact with Michonne. my eyebrows furrow with confusion, not because of Andrea fucking my father, that was predictable, Andrea liked a man with power, but I'm confused because Andrea and Michonne had known each other. Glenn's just as confused brows furrowed as he asks "What? Andreas in Woodbury?"

"Right next to the governor," Daryl replies. Michonne takes a few steps forward, pointing her Katana in front of her once again, with the intention of hurting someone. "I told you to drop that!" Rick shouts, lunging forward, making Michonne lower it once again. Michonne has a blank expression on her face as Rick asks, "You know Andrea?" her eyes don't make contact with Rick, instead settling for somewhere right behind him.

Rick doesn't take her silence for an answer, so he gets closer, and his voice drops to a low, sinister whisper, "Hey, do you know Andrea?" he asks once again. She doesn't answer, letting Merle answer for her. "Yep, she does," he says, a smirk displayed on his lips. "Her and blondie spent all winter cuddlin' up in the forest. Mm-mmm-mmm." Rick has a look of betrayal on his face as Merle continues to reveal more and more of Michonne's secrets. "Yeah. My Nubian queen here had two pet walkers. No arms, cut off the jaws, kept them in chains."

What. The. fuck? two pet walkers! "kinda ironic now that I think about it." Daryl is done with Merle's mouth. Daryl quickly spins around shouting "Shut up, bro!" Merle laughs, obviously finding Daryl's anger hilarious "Hey, man, we snagged them out of the woods. Andrea was close to dyin'."

"Is that why she's with him?"

Merle nods. "Yeah. Snug as two little bugs. So, what ya gonna do now, sheriff, huh? Surrounded by a bunch of liars, thugs, and cowards." Merle says, just poking and prodding at Rick, trying to get a reaction out of him. And a reaction is what he got; Rick turns his head, commanding Merle to "shut up!" Merle, being Merle, doesn't comply and continues his antics. Merle chuckles. "Oh, man, look at this. Pathetic!" he shakes his head in faux shame. "All these guns and no bullets in them."

Merles once again got on his brother's last nerve. "Merle! shut up!" Daryl growls, leaning forward a bit, trying to intimidate his older brother. Merle doesn't take that and begins to shout, "Shut up yourself! Bunch of pussies you roll-" Merle isn't even able to finish his last sentence before Rick quickly strikes him in the back of the head with his gun, causing him to fall to the ground unconscious with a thud. "Asshole."

We're all gathered around in the middle of the road, leaving Jack sat on the side of the road, feeling he had no place in the conversation, and Merle still in the woods. Daryl's trying to propose that Merle comes with us, but Rick's not so sure, feeling it will just cause trouble. "It won't work," Rick sighs. Daryl still tries his best to convince Rick, though "it's gotta" I'm not on either side. I know Merle is nothing but trouble. I've known that since the moment I met him. But I also know that Daryl has beaten himself up over losing his brother for the past year. I know having his brother with our group again would make him happy. I want Daryl to be happy, I really do, but Merle has already caused so much trouble for our group. Hell, he kidnapped and almost killed Glenn and Maggie.

"it'll stir things up," Rick argues. I know he's right. Having Glenn and Merle under the same roof probably won't end up well. Glenn was already so pissed off; it wouldn't be right to make Glenn and Maggie feel more unsafe than they already did. "Look, the governor is probably on the way to the prison right now. merle knows how he thinks, and we could use the muscle," Merle did already know a bunch about Phillip, but who says he's even gonna help up, all he did back at the quarry was fuck around and start unnecessary fights with Shane.

"I'm not havin' him at the prison,"

"Do you really want him sleeping in the same cell block as Carol, Beth, or hell, Casey?" Glenn asks. thinking about it, I don't want Merle Dixon anywhere near Casey. I know Merle is Daryl's brother and all, but he should really think about this. I was barely comfortable being within 5 feet of Merle myself let alone my 5-year-old. he has to start thinking about the bigger picture, he has to start thinking about how this could affect Casey, Carl, and the baby. Daryl grunts before muttering, "he ain't a rapist." He wasn't a rapist, but he sure did make me more than uncomfortable on multiple occasions. Look at him, the way he talked, the men he hung out with; would he really want that kind of person around the children?

"Well, his buddy is." Daryl was still trying to plead Merle's case. "They ain't buddies no more. Not after last night," I sigh, arms crossing over my chest "C'mon D you know how Merle is, do you really want that around case?" he huffs, trying not to make eye contact as a look of betrayal spreads across his face.

"There's no way Merles gonna live there without putting everyone at each other's throats," Rick says. I know Rick doesn't want to piss Daryl off, but he also wants everyone in our group to feel safe. "So, yer gonna cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?" Rick shakes his head, saying "She's not coming back. "

"she's not in a state to be on her own" Maggie argues. Maggie and Glenn continue to try and plead Michonne's case. "She did bring you guys to us" Glenn whispers, in a way he's right. Michonne had helped us, but she's already practically gone rogue pointing that damn katana at people. we just don't know what she's capable of yet. "And then ditched us" rick argues, head turning towards Glenn. "at least let my dad stitch her up" Maggie begs, we can't just leave her out for dead, we should at least let Hershel check her out, so she's has the best chance of survival out there, it just the right thing to do. "She's too unpredictable." She's a loose cannon, that's for sure. On one hand, she has proven herself to be beneficial to our group, but on the other hand, she has also shown us that she could be harmful to our group. She's helping us, but also going missing for a long period of time and pointing her damn Katana at us like we're the bad guys.

We're staring at Michonne. She is leaning against the side-view mirror, staring back at us, almost as if she knows we're talking about her. Scratch that, she probably does know because Rick is not trying to whisper at all. He wants her to know she's unwanted, hoping she'll take a hint and scurry off before Rick can boot her out. Daryl nods agreeing with Rick, "That's right, we don't know who she is" he mutters, but he's only agreeing with Rick right now to try to slip in a word about Merle staying with us.

"But merle, merles blood." Daryl says almost acting like we're all some big family. Deep down, I have a feeling he'd run if Merle asked him. We're not blood, I'm not his wife, Casey's not his daughter. I'm his girlfriend, barely even that sometimes, and Casey, she's a little girl who has accidentally grown too attached. The 'D' around my neck means nothing if Merle is asking for something, and I know that. I wouldn't expect him to choose me over his brother, and I know he wouldn't expect me to pick him over mine, even if it would be a difficult decision for me.

Glenn shakes his head in disgust. "No, merles your blood, my blood, my family is standing right here, and waiting for us back at the prison." We had no ties to Merle, no need to keep him. The only one who did was Daryl. we all know the line we're tittering on, we all know the thoughts and decisions racing through his mind. We all know he's thinking about leaving and going with Merle. that's why my eyes are burning into his with a stare begging him not to. Begging him not to make me go back without him, begging him not to make me explain why he didn't come back. "And you're part of that family, but he's not. He's not"

I can see the anger boiling in his chest, the words he's trying to fight back. "Man, ya'll don't know" We all stare at him waiting for him to say it because we know he is "Fine. we'll fend for ourselves." he finally says it, which almost sends me over the edge. I just want to scream at him. How could he just leave, leave after promising he'd come back? "that's not what I was saying," Glenn says, trying to make Daryl think about his decision. "no, him, no me." It's as simple as that. He didn't think about Casey, Carol, Beth, or hell fucking me. "Daryl, you don't have to do that"

"It was always merle an' I before this" Then he makes eye contact with me, and he sees it, the tears pooling in my eyes that I desperately try to blink back, the begging the pleading, but he doesn't care. "So, you're just gonna leave?" I ask finally breaking my silence. His eyes meet mine. "you'd do the same thing," he mutters. My brother, he wasn't like Merle. He wouldn't be booted out of the group because my brother was a good man. "What do you want me to tell Casey? you promised her you'd come back." he shrugs, almost like he doesn't care. "y/n ya gotta understand this is my brother, my blood. You'd do the same if you found yer's. I know ya would"

"My brother's dead," I say, my voice comes out bitter and harsh. Because how could he bring up my brother, who's dead? Who died trying to help me? How could he compare his racist, misogynistic, absolute scumbag brother to mine? "Then ya should understand. "my arms cross over my chest, and my face twists into a disgusted expression. I can't believe he'd just leave us like that. After everything we've been through. He said he loved me. I thought he thought more of me. I thought this was it. I thought he was going to be my husband.

Daryl starts walking, pushing past Maggie and me, muttering, "Say goodbye to yer pops for me." I spin around on my heels, facing him now rather than Glenn and Rick. I'm practically chasing after him shouting "You're seriously leaving?! After everything we've been through?!" he ignores me and just continues to walk until he gets to the trunk of the car. He opens it and begins to gather his items.

"So, this is it?" I whisper, my hands shoved in my pockets, "guess so" he mutters, my heart drops and tears begin to pool in my eyes once again. "Seriously? What about Casey?" he shrugs, not answering because he knows whatever he's going to say is just going to piss me off. "What about me D? What about us?" a tear falls down my cheek, and my hand reaches up to wipe it away. "you'll get over it," he mutters, slinging his bag over his shoulder. That hurt me. It felt like a stab to the gut. Did he really think I just get over him like that? He shakes his head, almost as if he was trying to ignore the tears that lined my waterline. he's trying not to care.

I've watched Daryl grow so much as a person in the last year. The man I knew yesterday was a scrap of the man I had met at that quarry. But somehow, with Merle's reappearance, he went back to the Douch bag he was. He no longer cared for Casey, Beth, or Carol. He no longer cared for me. He no longer cared about us. All the late-night conversation meant nothing, the necklace meant nothing, Casey meant nothing. "I-I love you," I whisper, hoping it would change his decision. Hoping the quiet admission of love would snap him back into reality.

"Then stop..." he mutters. His words are so bitter, so calloused they slice right through my heart, breaking it into a million pieces. "ya got whoever that guy is over there, ya got Glenn. know you'll be fuckin' one of them by the end of the week," he mutters. Hot, angry tears begin to fall down my cheeks. How could he say that? Was that really all he thought of me? A slut? Did he think I was only with him for the sex? The sex that was so far in between that I can't recall the last time we had it. Did he not notice how in love I was?

I rip the necklace from my neck and throw it at him. It hits his torso before falling to the ground with a soft thud. The silver metal glimmers in the sun staring up a simple reminder of what we were, and what we could have been. "Fuck you" is the last thing I mutter before wiping my tears and turning to walk back towards the group.

The ride back to the prison is a blur. I sit in the back, middle seat, with a shell-shocked look on my face. I don't want to cry, but my body wants me to cry. There's a lump in my throat and I'm desperately trying to hold back tears. The whole ride Glenn muttering quietly to me, "I'm so sorry" "I didn't think he was really going to leave" I don't pay attention to him. I can't listen, I can't pay attention. I just want to be in my head right now. I feel the car stop and feel people leave, but I don't pay it any mind. I don't even pay any mind when I hear the shouting outside. I just want this all to be over.

I'm zoned out until I feel the car park, and everyone gets out. I get out, hands shoved in my pockets. The only thing that knocks me out of my head is the feeling of two little arms wrapping around my leg. "you're back," Casey squeaks as I bend down and pick her up. Her arms wrap around my neck and her head buries itself into my shoulder. I know the inevitable question awaits us, and I still don't know what I'm going to say. When I feel her head leave my shoulder and begin looking around, my heart begins to slam against my chest. "where's Daryl?" she asks eyes still searching, "he...Daryl left"

"Did he die?" she asks, brows furrowing up as I shake my head. I'd rather he had died. It's easier to explain to her that he died rather than he decided to leave us. "No, baby. He found his brother and decided he needed to be with his family." Her brows furrow up even farther, if that's even possible. "I thought we were his family?"

When I get back inside, I tell Casey to stay with Carl and go up and find an empty cell. This is when I finally let myself break down. Sitting on the bed with my head in my hand, I just let go. I'm full-on ugly crying, with tears streaming down my face, and snot bubbling out of my nose. I just hate him so much for leaving. Broken sobs escape my lips as I try to keep myself as quiet as possible. I don't want anyone else to know how badly this hurt me.

My chest rises and falls fast with each gasp I take. The only thought that is racing through my mind is why would he do this? How could he do this? Did he really think that I was a slut all this time, or was it Merle's comments about Glenn, and I that suddenly had changed his opinion of Glenn and I's relationship? Did he seriously think I didn't love him?

"You, okay?" a knock on the wall pulls me from my thoughts. I look up to see Carol. My bottom lip wobbles as I shake my head 'no'. she lets out a sigh as she nods and slowly walks towards me. She takes a seat next to me on the bottom bunk. "You want to talk?" she asks, her arm coming to wrap around my body and pull mine close to hers. I shake my head 'no' once again. I could barely think about him without a blubbering mess, let alone talk about him to someone else.

My head buries into her chest as her left hand rubs small circles into my back. "I know, I know," she mutters as broken sobs erupt from my throat. I just hate him so much for leaving with Merle, but at the same time I want him here, and I want him to hold me. I want to hear him tell me he loves me.

I sat in that cell for the rest of the night, not bothering about dinner because I had already felt sick to my stomach. The only human interaction I have is with Casey at bedtime when she cuddles up next to me in the bottom bunk. I can't bring myself to touch the stuff Daryl had left behind, because I know I'll either break it or throw it at a wall.

Casey's eyes were heavy with sleep, and yawns erupted from her every few seconds. She didn't want to sleep on the top bunk. For the past few months, she only knew what it felt like to sleep between Daryl and me. There was always a warm body next to her, no matter what. I can't bring myself to think how last night was for her. Through a yawn, she whispers, "I miss Daryl" I let out a heavy sigh. In a way I miss him, I wish he hadn't made the choice he had made, I wish he would have considered how'd those decisioned would affect us. I wish I didn't have the burden of living the rest of my life wondering if he's alright, so I guess in a way I miss him.

Casey eventually drifted off to sleep, and I quietly slipped out of bed, hoping that everyone else had retired for the night. As I tiptoed down the stairs and into the dimly lit rec room, I noticed Glenn sitting at a table in the far-left corner. He was shrouded in almost complete darkness, with only his hoodie standing out in the dim light. His head faced down; one elbow propped up on the table to hold it up. "How you holdin' up?" I ask, breaking him from his thoughts. I can see him just and let out a tiny gasp. "shit" he mutters under his breath as his head snaps up to see me.

I laugh, a small smile breaking across my face. "sorry" I whisper, walking across the room to meet him at his table. "watcha doin' up so late?" I ask, sliding into the seat beside him. "can't sleep you?" he asks. I shrug, not knowing why I was still up. I felt like I could sleep for a good week if I really tried. "So...did Jack get booted out with the rest...or..." I ask referring to the commotion I had heard earlier that day involving rick. Glenn shakes his head "Nah, didn't wanna upset you anymore than you already were," he says, tiptoeing around the subject of Daryl.

I can't help but feel bad about Glenn and Maggie. Every time I see the black and blue bruises that decorated his face, I can't help but be reminded of who caused it. I hadn't thought about him in years. The only times I was reminded of the faded remembrance of his face were in old family portraits that were in boxes up in my mom's attic.

1992 or 3 maybe, I was three years old in the picture, mom was heavily pregnant, and dad looked so young. I never realized how young both my parents were when they had me until I looked at those photos. Mom looks maybe 19, dad had to be at least 21. He's got me on his hip, we're all pushed in close, one arm around a waist, Dad's face and I's squished together. We looked so happy.

When I saw his face out in the crowd, I was 12 years old again up in the attic, sorting through boxes, finding the dusty portraits. Wondering how he could leave us. I wasn't stupid. I remembered those last few months, the last year. I remembered the drinking, the fighting, the bruises. I remembered the broken potted plants I remembered my brother's broken arm. I just couldn't believe the man who wore such a bright smile could be so evil.

How could he hurt me, hurt my brother, hurt my mom? I feel like I'm sitting in my paternal grandmother's kitchen this time, maybe 15, listening to her blab on and on about his family. His wife, his daughter. His daughter he loved so dearly, the daughter who had replaced me. 'He just loves her so much,' she said 'No one can take away a father's love for their daughter'. I hadn't thought of him since that moment. After that, I gave up on having a dad. I gave up on waiting. I finally realized he just didn't love me, and I couldn't change that.

But yesterday, seeing him again was like a punch to the gut, and finding out that he was the one who hurt my friends that made me furious. I wanted to be the one to hunt him down. I wanted to be the one to kill him. I couldn't wait to see his face when he realized who I was and what I was going to do.

"Glenn, can I tell you something? But you can't get mad" his brows furrow, a sliver of a smile displaying on his lips as his mouth opens to say something. I'm quick to cut him off, finally revealing the hardest secret I've ever had to keep. "the governor is my dad" his eyes widen, and fear sets in quickly, terrified he'll hate me. "What?" he asks, it coming out as a half laugh as he stares at me. His eyes fall up and down my body, examining every single one of my facial features, finding everyone that even slightly resembled Philips. "Are you joking?" he asks, head cocking to the side in disbelief. I shake my head slowly, and he lets out a quiet "oh my god."

"I didn't even know this governor guy was him until I saw him. You're not mad, are you?" he shakes his head, letting my anxieties settle. "No..not mad, just...shocked, yo-you...wow."

Taglist

@rivversin @soul4death @silicone-bonez @nezukos-number1fan @jai-lovely @maziejay08 @oi-itse @rhaenryawhore @kimbunnysstuff @blipblopper @ramielll @ilyhannah @daryldixonnn @delicatebearpandaopera @daryldixmedown @duckybird101 @0-imjusthere-0 @tanuki-tsuki

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novasintheroom · 1 year ago

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008. Kindness

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1.1k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description - You continue to send Vash letters.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

Part 1 ---- Part 2 ---- Part 3 (you are here!) ---- Part 4 ---- Part 5

The next letter comes a week later on a Tuesday. The one after that, two weeks and two days. And the one after that, just four days later.

You’ve made a habit of writing at nearly every post office and leaving it to be picked up by Vash if he chooses. He tries to resist and leave the letters there, but loneliness and the want to know how you’re doing always wins. He’s returned to a town more than once just to get a letter.

This week’s letter comes from a little town called Bangs. The mailwoman hands him the letter from the top of her tomas, and he gives her the twenty-six C-cents for handling it.

The paper inside is pink this time and smells a bit like almond lotion. Your curving and slanted writing greets him:

Birdie,

I’ve managed to add three new towns this week to the roster. There’re only a few people in each who are willing to join in on the book exchange, but a win’s a win. HQ says I’m doing great, and they’ve already gotten a few applications from some teenagers in the towns to apply for college in the bigger cities.

In fact, they’re moving me to a new route soon. One that’s a bit more challenging due to it being so far out and away from most other places. I’m getting my own tomas for it since the towns are so spread out. I’ve drawn the map they sent me on the back…in case you ever want to visit.

I hope you’re doing well. I wish I could see you. I know you’re getting my letters. Write to me, please. Even if you don’t think we should travel together anymore, we can at least be friends, right?

Forever yours,

______

P.S. What do evil toma lay? Deviled eggs.

He’s surprised to find two blank pages nestled into the envelope. You really want him to write you? After abandoning and dodging you for nearly two months? But he shouldn’t be surprised. You’re always adjusting to his boundaries, always making sure he’s comfortable, even if you disagree. You’re too kind for your own good. The least he could do is tell you he’s okay.

So, he writes back.

______,

I’m doing fine. I’ve got a few jobs lined up in the town I’m in right now. I was able to help nurse someone’s grandma back to health here too. I’m doing my best, just like you are.

He taps at the paper. What else should he say?

I’m sorry I I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. You’re making a huge difference by helping build up people’s education. It will help so many people in the future.

What do you know about the region you’re getting assigned to? I’ve only been around there a few times, and I’m sure it’s changed since then.

Best,

Vash

P.S. Why can’t you ever trust stairs? They’re always up to something.

He’s left with an extra page to write with, but just stuffs it in his pocket. He doesn’t have much of worth to say right now; he still feels bad about…everything. He finds the postwoman again, who takes the new envelope and trots off on her tomas, and that’s that.

The next letter comes on the road as a courier passes by on her own walk back toward a town called Ferret’s Claw. She hails him, and hands it to him. “Already paid for,” her gravelly voice says, then continues trotting down the path of dunes.

Vash watches her leave before he opens and scans it over.

Birdie,

I’ve heard about you helping the Plants in the region. You’re not as sneaky as you used to be. That, or people are a lot more talkative about the talented, young, handsome man going around fixing Plants.

Sure sounds like you.

I’ve had to deal with some bandits on the road. Been chased a few times. Luckily they either aren’t great shots or don’t have their own toma to chase me on. They seem to be young kids with nothing better to do. I hope the more we spread education, that will lessen.

Be careful around here, birdie.

Forever yours,

______

A blush rises to his cheeks when he reads over the “talented, young, handsome” line again. Leave it to you to still get his stomach fluttering with butterflies, even at a distance. Vash lets a breath go through his nose, then folds the letter, putting it in his “letters pocket,” so dubbed now after receiving them. He brings out the spare piece of paper from the previous letter and begins to write, using his knee as a ‘desk.’

Mayfl______,

Don’t worry about me; I know how to run handle bandits. You should be more careful, though. Do you still have that knife you got from the pawn shop?

I won’t be staying in the region long. There’s a call coming from somewhere else, and I need to go to it.

He taps the paper, looking up and around as he thinks. Should he tell you where he’ll be? He’d like more letters…

It’s coming from a town in the east, I know that much. Hopefully I can get there in time.

Be safe.

Vash

P.S. There are three types of people in the world: those who can count, and those who can’t.

There. That ought to be enough.

And when he’s in the east, he isn’t as surprised to find a letter waiting for him at one of the towns.

Birdie,

I’ll keep writing to you if that’s alright. It gets lonely on the road, and I don’t doubt you feel it too. I love getting your letters.

HQ says I’ll stay in this region for at least a few months. Please let me know where to send my letters; I promise I won’t follow – I’ve got too many people relying on me and the books now. But I’d still love to hear from you. Tell me about what you’re up to, any adventures, even the shoot-outs you’re in. I’ll worry, but I’ll know you’re okay with each letter.

I hope you’re well. I hope you find happiness wherever you go.

Forever yours,

______

P.S. What do you call a can opener that doesn’t work? A can’t opener.

And Vash does write back. Even if it’s so much less than what you write, he keeps you updated.

Vash wonders, when he’s writing his next letter, if this should stop. He’s leading you on; he hasn’t stopped contact like he promised he would. He looks down at the paper and crumples it in his hand, then opens and smooths it out again. Your kindness is like a drug he can’t quit. It’s selfish, but he wants to keep you, like the letters he keeps in his pocket. Is it so bad to want one friend in the world?

Maybe. Perhaps not.

And so he writes.

#trigun #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #tristamp #writing #vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #reader insert #self insert #nova writes #150 bullets #trigun x reader #vash x you #trigun stampede x reader

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mycosmicsage · 1 month ago

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Mars Signs for Beginners: Lesson Six

Welcome to Mars Signs for Beginners: Lesson Six. This time around we are going to be covering the planet of ambition, drive, and some of those more fun emotions called anger and rage.

It helps to build up a basic understanding of the personality of the signs, and key traits that they carry with them through the planets.

What is a Mars Sign?

Your Mars sign determines how you go about getting the things you want. It's all about drive, passion, and those innate wants that pull us forward. Where you have the sun that determines your passions, Mars is how you go about getting them, and often it determines the attitude you have going about getting them. It also holds up a mirror to the basic drives of anger, and how you process negative emotions that are on the red side. It's the planet of physical passions, and one of my top five for delving into.

So let's get into it and break it all down- Mars, the little red planet through the signs.

The Signs

Aries

This is Aries home planet, and they vibe so hard. In general, Aries is all about impulsive action, and getting stuff done the second it arrives. Mars loves that. It's a fast paced song and they are able to dance on beat. Mars help Aries achieve what they want in quick succession, and takes them forward into getting their fiery passions realized. They are also.. incredibly competitive. They need to win, they need to be first. All in all, this competitiveness holds a hand with their temper, the temper of the Ram is almost a landmine ridden field to navigate through. It's easy enough to say something to Aries that can bring them to a boil. However, just as quickly as you turn on the heat- it can also come off. Their temperament is one easily gained and lost over time, that is to say.

Taurus

Taurus brings an energy of the little engine that could to Mars. It's not necessarily a bad placement, and they are very determined in their pursuit of achievement. They take the long, dedicated road, and are grounded. I mean how else will they achieve their life of comfort if not for being persistent in their goals? Very measured in their temperament, it's hard to get Taurus off their emotional rhythm. However, if you do manage to get on the wrong side of the Bull, you're getting the horns. As it takes a long time to push the Taurus to this point. They won't blow up on you like an Aries, but they will make you wish you never crossed them in the first place, along with cutting you out of their life- permanently. Not giving you another chance to make it any better.

Gemini

The Twins are an interesting placement for this planet. As seen the base personality of a Gemini roots in their mental activity and being able to find variety. So when you put them in to Mars, you see them looking at challenges in a variety of ways in order to achieve what they have their mind put to at the time. Given that their impulsiveness is exaggerated in this sign it seems like you could be talking to them one week about making soap for a living, and the next they've gone and joined the circus. All of this is accompanied with a mess of different ways to achieve those goals. The Twins aren't ones to dwell on their anger for too long, or even pursue it that long. However, should they be in the mood for revenge they will gossip and spread what you did.

Cancer

You're taking one of the softest signs in the Zodiac and putting them into one of the most aggressive- fun. You see the thing with Cancer is they tend to go all out for their home, and the people they love. They aren't the type to let things go when it comes to the things they care about and can be incredibly protective with this planet in their corner. The crab uses Mars' energy to manage their home in a soft and guided way. This can sometimes manifest in not being able to make decisions or not knowing how to deal with conflicts when presented with them. Regardless, the crab goes on taking care of things in their own time. It's not the best placement, however, it is certainly not the worst either.

Leo

Leo does very well under the guide of Mars. Firstly, Mars helps the lion take their leadership and puts it to work. The Lions passions guided with a strong hand, and the ability to manage the people around them like a general. Due to, their want to be in the limelight makes them really good candidates for passions and pursuits that are new to them. They like to leave their mark on the world and Mars is going to help them do that by making decisions decisively. The Lion's temper is one to be witnessed. Often depicted as a very large, on going rage that take a long time to fizzle out. When it does, they may be willing to forgive, but building that trust up is going to take a while in and of itself.

Virgo

The Maiden is a very subdued sign, to have it in this placement is not necessarily the worst, but it isn't really comfortable here. Virgo lives in the mind and strives for practicality, they take the Mars' energy and use it to guide their decisions more quickly than if it were placed in the Sun. However, Mars can enhance the more neurotic traits and leave Virgo lost in their mind, and lose their temper if things aren't going the way that they had planned in the first place. They want to improve their well being and the people around them, and if that doesn't go according to plan it can drive them up the wall. Virgo's temper is typically shown through getting really judgey and snippy with those around them, they aren't going to tell you directly that their pissed. But damn, can you feel it in their words.

Libra

Much like their sister sign Taurus, this isn't a great placement for Libra. That isn't to say that Libra doesn't have their own special way of navigating Mars. Where Libra likes to try to ensure that all conflicts are well thought through and handled, Mars tries to force them to take a more impulsive approach and focus on what they want. This leads to a lot of indecisiveness on the Libra's part, and can send them spiraling when forced to make confrontations. The scales enjoys when things are balanced between the planes of "I" and "We". This gives them a very harmonious balance with their temperment, but they are lacking in the want department. They take the diplomatic approach where Mars favors the primal.

Scorpio

have you ever wanted to see what it's like to have revenge served cold? Talk with a Scorpio Mars. These signs in their traditional house take anger, and drive and bring it to a new transformative level. They aren't impulsive like Aries, no. They take their time and strategize the best way to make you pay for what you've done. This translate in to them accomplishing their desires as well. Always moving through the dark, and making the small changes needed for them to rise to full control, and power over their desire. Honestly, a terrifying placement for those who have it. It speaks to a transformative experience that you don't want to end up on the wrong side of.

Sagittarius

Placing Sagittarius here is one way to make sure the free-spirited archer fires their arrow near impulsively into the sun. They are completely running on impulse to find their next escape, or chasing after their next big dream. Manifesting in a deep need to follow their own pursuits on their own time and no one else's. The temperment of a Sagittarius Mars is someone where it seems like everything is fine. That is until they find out some wack shit. Then it's gloves off. After that, they're kinda the all bets are off type of inner anger. They aren't ones to easily forgive, this is due to their want for general peace and overall joy in their lives. So if you do something that counteracts that desire, they are going to take you out of their life permanently (or until they've seen you make great strides to do better).

Capricorn

If you want a person who is incredibly goal orientated, and has plans for the future. You have to get yourself a Capricorn in Mars. This sign is in a position of power under this planet. Often taking the approach that they can and will do anything necessary for their own success. I've mentioned before how Capricorn is the sign that has the next five years of their life planned out, that's taken to an extreme under Mars. They have major steps of their lives planned out, knowing exactly how they'll achieve it and what exactly it will achieve them. The temperment of Capricorn in this position is one who takes the anger from Virgo, Taurus, and Scorpio. They rip you to shreds, pointing out every single \shortcomings, and then cut you off entirely for the rest of their lives. Definitely not a sign you want to tick off.

Aquarius

The water-bearer has no primal motives. Mars doesn't exist here. Sorry.

Ok, that's not true, but it is a really weird placement for Aquarius. They are incredibly rebellious and innovative, and Mars really helps them make the strides they need to in order to fully achieve the rebellion angle that most Aquarius strive for. But Aquarius in the end is very aloof with their emotions, and are detached from themselves. So when you go to piss them off, or if you upset them. They aren't going to go about it like really any other sign. They are going to sit you down and have a full length discussion with you about what you did wrong, and then try to bring justice up and out of it. Wanting to gain themselves victory. It's a very cold approach to rage considering many of the alternatives.

Pisces

Think Cancer and Libra had a baby, you get Pisces. Pisces is so far up in their head, and so compassionate that when put into Mars, they are kinda at a loss. They don't take Mars' energy to the best of their abilities. They are always willing to lend an ear to other people, and have a heightened intuition that breathes a sense of fairness when it comes to aggression. Their imaginations drive them to their passions of creativity, and art their passions heightened by Mars' drive for action. Yet, they seem to avoid and manage conflict with a steady and even hand. When you really wrong a Pisces, they may shut down- but they aren't above forgiving. Just don't expect them to forgive. They are the sign best known for holding deep resentments.

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Wrap-Up: Mars Signs for Beginners: Lesson Six

That wraps it up for Mars signs for beginners. It's one of the most fun planets out of the ten that we have (plus rising, but again not a planet). It's a planet that tries it's best to breath action into the different signs, having them take up action, and do the things they want to for themselves. But as seen there's only a few signs that actually are wanting to take up that flagpole. In the end one of the most important things to take away from your Mars' sign is to see how it's driving you. How that energy is coming about in your own life, and how you can either amplify it or tone it down dependent on the situations you're trying to call from the planet.

Other than that, keep an eye out for the next in the series Jupiter Signs for Beginners, where we are going to be covering the largest planet in our solar system, and what the planet of luck is looking to bring to you.

Stay groovy, and I'll catch you on the flip,

Cosmic Sage

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pascaloverx · 1 year ago

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Rewrite The Stars

Chapter Six

Summary: One photo changes your whole life, when you accidentally bump into a celebrity and the world starts to believe that you are a couple.

chapter five chapter seven

You spent the week after your encounter with Pascal being inundated with news about you. Very positive rumors circulated about who you were. People calling you the real-life Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, claiming they knew you from school. A good number of folks fabricating stories about how you used to be. They even managed to dig up my high school lab partner. Your phone nearly exploded with notifications. Pedro reached out a couple of times, telling you to stay calm, assuring you that you weren't alone in this.

"I won't be wearing that dress, and I actually find it excessive that you bought an entirely new wardrobe with clothes that are too expensive for me to accompany you to any awards show. Are you nominated for every existing award on Earth?" You talk on the phone with Pedro, who is on his way at the moment. By the way, you no longer live in your apartment. Pedro's business manager, always a visionary, rented an apartment in a more private and secure location for you to live in temporarily until this situation blows over. Gradually, your life is turning into a big facade, even your address is not your real address anymore.

"Would it help if I said I personally chose this dress?" Pedro asks over the phone in a playful tone. You scoff, thinking that even if he said Beyoncé had worn this dress, you still wouldn't want to wear it. Okay, you're being a bit dramatic now.

"You coming with the dress by any chance?" You quip, thinking nothing is worth all this discomfort. This dress is so tight that you might need to split yourself in half to get into it.

"Darling, I'm already yours. Obviously, I come included in the package with the dress." When you hear that, you almost let yourself be charmed.

"Why don't you wear this dress in my place, love?" You're clearly losing patience and air as you struggle with this horrible dress. You can hear Pedro laughing on the other end of the line. That should be considered the eighth wonder of the world.

"You win, I give up. Wear something you feel comfortable in, and be ready because I'll be there in a few minutes,Y/N." He says calmly, and you do a mini victory dance. In life, everything becomes bearable if you're at least feeling comfortable.

"You deserve the world, Pascal, the whole world. I'll be ready in time to accompany my boyfriend to the awards show. I swear." You say with a smile as you struggle to take off the dress, almost tripping over it. Pedro says he's going to hang up but that he wants to see the dress you'll choose soon. You choose a beautiful black dress that you personally bought with your first paycheck. This dress was so well kept that even those who revamped your entire wardrobe didn't know of its existence. You quickly put it on, trying to beat Mr. Pedro Pascal, but you fail. He knocks on your apartment door before you can finish putting on the dress.

"Need a hand?" He smiles seeing you have trouble holding the dress in place, damn strapless dress.

"How did you enter the building without authorization?" You ask confused, even without looking at Pedro's face because you were embarrassed. One mistake on your part and he would see you half naked.

"Your priorities are incredible. You'd rather stay naked than let me in and help you. But of course, the building security knowing I'm Pedro Pascal, your boyfriend, is the real concern on your mind." He doesn't even hide that he's teasing you. You step aside to let him into your fake apartment. You almost let the dress fall, but he immediately helps you after entering the apartment.

"Thanks for the help. You're officially a hero." You add with a smile.

"And I'll be accompanied by a princess, apparently. You look stunning." He says sincerely. You feel a bit shy, as if only feeling the burning sensation on your cheeks, Pedro sure knows how to be charming.

"I know this isn't the dress you wanted me to wear, but I promise I'll be a much better fake girlfriend." You say, smiling and twirling the dress as if you were a real princess.

"Your happiness is my happiness, darling." That's all he says before holding you firmly by the waist. In a moment, you find yourself kissing him. Blame it on the obvious reflection. The kiss itself is tender, as if it were the first kiss you two were sharing. One thing you notice is that he didn't rush to end the kiss; in fact, he even prolonged the moment of closeness between you two.

"I believe we have to go to your award show. I heard that a very handsome actor is going to win a award tonight." You say kissing Pedro Pascal's cheek. He's still holding your waist.

"Keep that mood of yours up. It's going to be hours of photos, awkward questions and conversations. Lots of conversations." He says it like a warning, you laugh. He seems to forget that you were a waitress, he's already used to a lot of things. And you will be able to meet famous people.

"No need to glamourize, I'll be your escort anyway." You say holding Pedro's arm leading him out of the apartment. You then go to the awards show together.

tag: @wanniiieeee , @hungrhay and @leilanixx

#pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal masterlist #pedro pascal series #reader insert #female reader #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal angst #fake dating au

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imhereandexist · 1 month ago

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[Part 5]

“Indigo, you need to come back home,” He heard as he ran and jumped through Green Hill.

“No! I got to find mom!” He sped up and took a few of Eggman's robots out. “I know he is alive! I know it! I just need to find him!”

“Indigo, Eggman has already sent out too many bots. If you don't get back, then all the efforts to save you will have been wasted.”

“He isn't dead and I intend to find him!” Indigo jumped into the air and with careful aim from his bow. “Chaos Spear!”

He charged the attack and launched the spears straight into a large group that lay ahead of him. It was too easy. Indigo landed and sped forward. He knew his mom wasn't dead. Sonic wasn't so easily taken out. There was no chance that Egghead took him out! He was recovering somewhere. Somewhere hidden far away from sight. His mom's quills under his dad's gloves always had some energy glowing about them. Dead quills didn't glow. It was a sign and while everyone else presumed Sonic was dead. His father and himself knew better.

“Indigo,” Shadow's voice got him to stop running. “You need to come home. Please. Running around old haunts will yield the same result.”

“But…Dad, he isn't…I can't…”

“If we can't find him, then that means we need to find leads and right now, we don't have any kiddo.”

“Dad, I can't just leave it like this! I was too weak…I wasn't strong enough. Now…mom may…”

“Indigo, stop. Just come home, rest and we can tackle this as a team. But running around, wasting your energy will do no one any good.” Shadow gently stated. “And when we do find him, we will need all that to reach him.”

“It isn't fair,” Indigo cried out as energy built up. “Mom should be here. I want mom back! I want him back!”

The energy burst out and destroyed most of the area around him. Leaving him panting and crying as he kept his head down. He just couldn't believe that Eggman had managed to actually win. He took his mom down. Conquered Mobius and had people running underground or worse just to stay alive. They didn't even know how far this madman would go. Without Sonic running around, they all were trying to make up for the lost power. He ran into the one thing that had his guilt and fear bubble to the surface during the start of this. Infinite, a super weapon that could make illusions. He fooled everyone, but Sonic and Indigo. His father had multiple blue quills stuck inside among his black and red quills. The original quills under his left glove were still there as well.

Sonic and him didn't fall for that illusion, but Infinite didn't seem to catch on. He didn't even know who he was. He wasn't sure how he knew that strange being, but the memories from before were too blurry to recall. Not that he wanted to. After a very short battle where his mom lost. He had to retreat with the rest. No one let him help his mom out and when he went back, Sonic was gone. Now, all he wanted to do was crawl into his quills like he did when he was younger; but he wasn't here. He was somewhere.

“Indi,” Shadow's voice got him back to the present. “Please, come home. I can't keep you safe if you aren't here.”

The call ended and he wiped a finger under his nose. This was war. He couldn't say it wasn't fair. War was never fair and Eggman never played fair. He took over, but the moment they got one inch. indigo would take it and run a mile. He just needed that chance. One moment to grab onto. It was possible and while he wasn't sure when it would happen. Something told him it was going to happen soon. He took a deep, shuddering breath before teleporting back to the Resistance Headquarters. Shadow was waiting for him.

“...I couldn't find him…” Indigo looked at him, crying again. “I couldn't…I'm sorry..”

Shadow let a sigh out and walked over to him, “you aren't to blame. You never were to blame.” He pulled him into a hug. “I know you miss him. I know it hurts, but he is alive. We just have to wait for a lead to find us.”

“It's been six months. When? I want to crawl into his quills dad. I want to hear him, see him, race him…” Indigo held onto his dad. “I just…want him home.”

His father didn't say anything, but he wasn't letting go either. No words could really cover how they felt. This war was rough and he knew it. What made this all worse was how people were treating Sonic's life. They didn't know about the quills, but with how many Shadow had. How did they not notice? Were they that blind? Did the weakly glowing blue quills not get seen? There was color blind and then there was blind. Shadow gently pushed him back.

“I know you want to help them, but right now. We have other problems. Infinite is out there. As are his other illusions. They are wasting cities to find us. Sonic got taken. The last thing I want is for you to be taken next.” Shadow scratched some quills into place. “The idea I can lose you as well.”

“I'm sorry. I just…I'm lost without him here. Infinite makes it feel as if I just am a step away from…from losing it and…”

“You miss him, that's normal; but I promise the second we get a lead. You and I are the ones to handle it. No one else. We'll get in, get him out and get him home.” Shadow told him, hands on his shoulders. “And then, we'll make Eggman and Infinite pay for taking him from us.”

“I get to punch Eggman,” Indigo said, wiping his nose again. “And I get first strike.”

“Okay, then I get the first on Infinite,” Shadow crossed his arms and smiled at him. “And then we can switch.”

“Deal,” he nodded as he followed him into the headquarters.

They walked down the hallway and noted the rooms full of people getting ready. Some chattering with others before running off down the hall in different directions. Neither was sure what was going on until they arrived at the Meeting room. Amy, Silver, Knuckles, Charmy and Vector stood around the table. Plans for the Death Egg laid out with locations marked by flags and robots.

“What's going on?”

“My spy finally got back to me,” Knuckles said, placing a blue square in the Solitary Confinement part of the map. “Sonic is alive on the Death Egg.”

“What! When did they call?” Indigo ran over to the table. “Is mom okay? Is he safe! Where is Infinite! Where is-” Shadow's hand on his shoulder stopped him from talking. “S-sorry.”

“All his questions need to be answered,” Shadow said, getting everyone to focus on him. “Right now.”

“Rouge called a few moments ago. He is in bad shape. Her exact words were: “His time here isn't mine to tell” and we all know Rouge. She loves to spill secrets.” Knuckles spoke volumes with those words.

The room fell silent. Everyone knew the bat loved to spill it all out. Even if it was the most embarrassing secret of all time. To hear him say that Rouge didn't want to spill the details and that she didn't wish to tell the story. It wasn't to be coy this time. She didn't want to talk about it.

“Is…is mom…”

“Eggman has been torturing Sonic for the last six months, kid. We have no idea what state he is in,” Knuckles crossed his arms. “Which is why we aren't sending you.”

“That isn't fair! I've been looking for months for my mom!”

“And you are clearly unable to handle the maturity needed for a rescue mission. You can't have outbursts like this during the mission,” Silver said, looking at him. “We need to keep a calm, level head. You are neither.”

“Move on,” Shadow growled. “What is the plan? I can get in faster than any of you.”

“No offense, Shadow but since when did you care about Sonic so much? Last I heard, you prefer to fight and race him and find him annoying.” Amy crossed her arms. “Something you are keen to mention to anyone. Yet once he was taken, you were at the lead of finding clues about his whereabouts. Even after we all believed him to be dead.”

Shadow looked directly at Amy, “and you really are colorblind. Sonic and I are way beyond Rivals. Beyond that, we've been married for a while. Did no one notice the bright blue quills in my head?” He said, finally pointing the obvious out. Did you not think that maybe…just maybe the quills allow me to feel if Sonic was truly dead or alive?” He leaned one hand against the table while gesturing at random. “Or did you think that I would actually hurt the one I love and help him get taken and tortured for six months while I played some part? For fun!”

They all spotted more blue quills and simply nodded. Shadow was angry, making points and clearly on edge. It was best to just agree and let him speak his piece. When he was done and had calmed himself. They waited and he spoke once more.

“Indigo has been searching for months. He has earned the right to see his mom. He and I will go. You all play a distraction.”

“You really think Sonic will go with you after Illusion You captured him?” Vector asked, leaning towards him. “Or that he would trust you not to betray him?”

“Sonic knows what I look like. Indigo and I will be getting ready. If you don't call us, then we'll rescue Sonic and take him into hiding without any of you knowing it.” Shadow turned his back to them. “Let's go, Indi.”

His son quietly followed. Despite seeing the quills and how they were glowing. It was clear none of them knew the significance. Nor did they know that he could feel Sonic's emotions. All this time on the Death Egg. There was one feeling beyond the pain and suffering he felt. Safety and Longing. Longing for Shadow and the safety that Lancelot provided all those years in the book. Sonic had some connection to the Knight. Just like before when they first found Indigo. Those quills had some connection, but not the kind he expected. If he was being protected from beyond the grave, then good. There were times when he would often fiddle with the quills under his glove. Hoping Sonic could feel that he hadn't given up yet. His reward was Sonic returning it all with a gentle tap. A sign to show he had full trust towards him.

“Dad…”

Shadow stopped and looked back at Indigo.

“I'm sorry. I lost my cool. I should have…” He stopped when Shadow put a hand on his head.

“We are leaving soon,” Shadow removed his hand and pulled out a single quill to show how weak the energy was. “We don't have time to wait.”

“...mom…” Indigo took the quill. “...mom…”

Shadow called Amy and told her what he was going to do. She yelled as she burst from the Meeting Room, but he just argued back. Time wasn't on their side and they had to go now. The signal was weakening and he was done waiting on other people to get things done. Indigo never gave him back the quill, but he didn't mind. He had so many already and he was always given more at random. If they kept waiting, then Sonic wouldn't make it.

“Fine, but at least let us get some kind of distraction going. We can send Indi..”

“Indigo is coming with me. He is my son, not yours. Send the Rookie, send yourself…anyone, but Indi comes with me,” Shadow stated. “Hurry up. We won't wait any longer.”

Amy ran back to the meeting room and right away. A few people ran out stating the mission they were given. Create a distraction far from HQ. Draw all the enemy attention to one prime location. Shadow looked at Indigo. He refused to let go of that quill, so much so that he had started to try and wrap fur around it. It would fall out though and he would sniffle as he tried again and again. Shadow pulled him along with a single hand on his back towards his room. He opened the door and left it open. There were some office supplies, but not alot left. He got the last two paper clips. Without taking the quill, he bent one around the top of the quill. Then had the other hook through it to make a charm. There was a random leather cord that he found once. He didn't know why he kept it, but something said it would be needed for something. It was a good thing he did. With the cord tied off and the charm added. He was able to put it around Indi's neck.

“There. It's always on you,” Shadow got a hug. “I know kiddo.”

He hugged back and heard that the plan was set in motion. Amy walked into the doorway.

“Plans started. Get Sonic home,” Amy stated, firmly staring at him.

“No need to tell us twice,” He pulled the green chaos emerald out of his quills. “Chaos control!”

Both were on the Death Egg in seconds. Indigo took a moment to look around the Prison Area. Shadow wasn't able to get close enough Solitary Confinement. It was already a big jump from Mobius to the Death Egg itself. The best way to make that jump and not overexert himself or his son was to procure a shuttle. He trusted his son's powers, but he wouldn't be able to think clear enough to make a jump back to earth. They had to get a shuttle first, then find Sonic. He hated to put it off, but the Death Egg had no robots on it. Meaning the plan was working.

He and his son follow him to the Docking Port of this Battle Ship. While he focused on getting a shuttle ready to launch. Indigo kept them covered. The training for missions during a war he had to grow up quickly kicked in right away. Shadow hated that their son had to grow up so fast. If only they had been given more time to have him be a kid. He finished getting a shuttle in their name ready. Only for Indigo to pull him into hiding and motion for him to be quiet.

“These resistance pests don't know when to quit,” Eggman growled as they heard buttons being pressed. “And to think even with Sonic contained, they still fight me. Speaking off, how is Sonic handling your visits?I trust it's been painful.”

“As painful as I can get it to be. I still can't get beyond that invisible wall in his mind. It's always there and always ready to slam me back out of Sonic's mind.”

“To think that blue pest is able to keep even his most precious memories from you. Seems he is more resilient than I thought. Whatever it takes, I want him broken just enough so that when I show him my completed empire, that he suffers in the vacuum of space. In the meantime, go handle those pests down there. I've got my own plans.”

“This feels like we are being baited into sending all our forces down there, Doctor. Should I not stay?”

“You'll do as I say and get down there!”

Shadow and Indigo waited for the doctor and infinite to leave. They had to be sure it was all quiet before they even moved. The entire time they waited. Shadow had to keep his son from rushing to where Sonic was. It took everything in him to not scream at his son to breathe. When they were sure it was safe. They ran out of the docks back to where the Prison Block was. They went further in after searching each cell there for any allies they could get out. The two hit the end of a long hallway. It was eerie to see. Scratches along the metal walls with dents just big enough for a curled hedgehog to hit. Splashes of blood all on the floor and wall. The further they went in, the more their concern grew. Indigo curled up and spun right into the door at the end of the hallway. Breaking it down in one hit to let his parents skate in right by him.

He easily caught up and kept pace as they checked for any cells that seemed to have special bars or some kind of special door. Most were open though. The only one that was closed and locked was at the far end. They skidded to a halt. Shadow gathered power and slammed his fist into the door. It broke inwards but didn't break off. He hit again and it flew straight into the cell. Slamming with a loud metal clang into the wall. Then fell onto the floor of the darkened cell. The door lets in the only source of light inside the room.

“Mom!” Indigo ran in and scanned the room.

He spotted his mom curled up in a corner. Blunted quills that stuck out, even if they couldn't offer any protection at this point. One shoe was completely gone with the other having holes in the bottom revealing the torn socks inside.

“M..mom…” He got closer and cried when his mom flinched and bristled the blunt quills at him.

He got closer anyway and did what he always did when he wanted comfort from Sonic. He dug into the quills. They were so blunt it didn't hurt him at all. The action got his mom to finally speak. The voice was hoarse and broken.

“You can't fit in my quills, baby. You're too big.”

“I know,” He cried, trying again. “I know.”

The hero slowly and with clear pain turned to face him.

“Are you real?” He asked. “...did Infinite get past him at last?”

Shadow got closer and bent down, “Get past who?”

“Lancelot.”

Now Shadow knew why Sonic felt safe. Even in death. Lancelot had taken root in the deepest parts of Sonic's mind. All to ensure the safety of his most precious memories and people he cared about. For once, Shadow was happy the dead memories had lingered.

“We're real and it's time we head home.” Shadow had Indigo move. “Don't believe me, then I always touch your quill.”

Sonic's laugh was hollow. He hated it. He didn't like how broken, malnourished and weak his partner was. Those emerald eyes were dull in color and he didn't even fight Shadow. He just let him move him as he wished. Infinite broke something in Sonic. Neither wasted time and left the cell. They ran into Zevick then. The red goon cackled and began to gloat.

“To think the doctor's first failed experiment would risk coming here,” He stared right at Indigo. “and to think you would fail to live up to such a grand design.”

“I'm not a weapon,” He growled.

Shadow held Sonic close. His partner was out cold. He didn't have the energy to stay awake. They didn't have time for a fight. Plus, he knew for a fact that this thing wasn't real. It was an illusion. One strong hit and it would disappear.

“We need to leave, Indi.” Shadow said, eyes focused on Zevick.

“But he hurt mom!”

“Even so, we need to get Sonic back so he can heal and so that you can curl into his quills like you want.”

His words got his son's ears to fold back, but quietly nodded.

“Aww, the little hoglet wants to snuggle. Don't worry. You'll be snuggling alright. Snuggling with death itself.” Zevick called a giant robotic wasp to fly up from behind him. “Now, to have our final battle.”

“Dad,” Indigo looked at him. “What do we do? Mom…he…I don't…”

Shadow saw how unstable his son's chaos energy was becoming from the stress. Normally, he would try to calm him down. This could work out. Gives this fake a fight and makes it fast.

“Aim that stress at him and the giant wasp. Make it fast and take that stress. Make them pay.” Shadow said. “But don't play with him. Just take him out.”

“I will. Hang in there mom. Please.” Indigo cracked his knuckles. “Alright, you wanna fight? Let's go!”

Zevick and him jumped into an arena. Shadow kept an eye out for any other enemies as the two fought. Their son has a mix of their style, but the bow was his own personal touch. Indigo took the chaos spear and turned it into an arrow based attack. Why get arrows when he could make them? That was the question he asked as a joke of all things.

He fought hard and got injured, but Zevick lost and Indigo was back at Shadow's side. Holding one arm.

“S-sorry…”

“Shadow, tell me you are on the way home.” Amy called.

“Not yet, we ran into another illusion. We are heading to the shuttle right now.”

Shadow and Indigo left the room and headed back towards the Docking Bay. Without warning him though, Shadow felt his son grab his arm and chaos control them to the shuttle doors.

“You didn't use a chaos emerald!” He pulled Indigo on and got him to sit. “That was reckless.”

“We ran…out…of time…” His son gasped out.

Shadow shut the doors and got the ship powered up, “regardless, that was risky to pull. Especially when you already fought a battle. Use an emerald next time!”

“Sorry.”

Shadow took a deep breath and looked at Sonic in the passenger chair. This was just too much stress.

“I'm sorry. We are both stressed out. Please, borrow the emerald next time. Okay?” Shadow gently said, then looked at his son. “I don't want you to get sick.”

“I will. I will.”

While calling Amy, Shadow launched the ship out towards Mobius, “this is Shadow. Get a med team ready for us the second we land.”

“Is he okay?!”

“No, he isn't.” He said, hearing her gasp. “He may need surgery. I can't tell, but his breathing is very weak. So get that damn med team ready right now. I want them outside and waiting and if he dies Amy, I don't care what you all say. Eggman dies at the price.”

Shadow hung up before she could say anything. Was that threat needed, probably not. Yet he was just too angry. The dim lights kept most of the damage hidden. Now in the bright light of the sun. He saw it all. Blunt, bloodied quills, bruises all over, cuts from attacks, ribs were showing and just a slew of other possible issues. If Sonic didn't need medical assistance. He would have turned around and made that doctor pay.

“...dad…”

“He'll be okay. I know it. Sonic doesn't go down that easily.”

“...okay..”

—--------------------

“Cursed rebels!!!” Eggman yelled.

“I told you this felt like a distraction.” Infinite stated.

“I know what you said!! Not only did they nab Sonic but they destroyed part of the prison cell block!” Eggman growled as he looked at the security footage. “No matter. They'll pay for this. Were you able to plant anything into his head during your visits?”

“No, something kept me from that part.”

“What is this something you keep bringing up?”

Infinite looked at his hand and saw a slash from a weapon on it. No matter what he did. The wound didn't heal. When he tried to turn Sonic to their side, he figured corrupting the most precious memories would be the best strategy. The idea was to twist them in such a way that Sonic would view them as allies and fight those who hurt him. Yet something kept them from him.

A presence that stood firmly between him and Sonic's core. It always pushed him back. It never spoke a word. It just slashed at him. Over and over. No matter how hard he tried to break through and turn it to his side. No success and in the end, he had lost a battle on his own turf.

“Whatever, you failed only one time. I can easily overlook it. Three days is all they have left. Let them fight back, it won't matter in the end.”

—----------------

As soon as they landed, the med team was in and out of the ship. Sonic on a stretcher, with an oxygen mask over his face. Amy tried to converse with Indigo, but he ran right by with the medical team. Shadow knew that would happen. As soon as he was at her side. He told her everything. Down the details and what they had to possibly deal with the next upcoming weeks, possibly years. The one question that Sonic asked them.

“Are you real?” Sonic’s voice repeated in his head.

It stuck out to him. He didn't like it. It triggered that rage he managed to control. No matter how far this war stressed him, he had kept a tight lid on his temper. That one line of questioning. The first thing to ask. It just had him ready to turn that shuttle around and bombard the Death Egg.

“I see. We will help him as much as we can. For now, let the medical team do their job. Sonic can heal afterwards and maybe, we can turn the tides to our favor.” Amy crossed her arms. “That's my hope.”

“Six months isn't something he will be able to overlook. Not when he asked if we were real..” Shadow clenched his hand together. “That bastard…I don't care what you all say. Eggman has gone too far.”

“Y'know none of us have the guts to pull the trigger. We can take a robot out but…”

“I don't care. Eggman dies this time. We are done playing passively.”

“Sonic wouldn't..”

“HE BROKE HIM, ROSE!” Shadow yelled, making her jump. “DID YOU NOT HEAR WHAT I TOLD YOU!”

She held her hands up and took a step back.

“He took Sonic and broke him! For months! And I am supposed to let that fucker live? Let him walk away to try again?!”

“No, but we can turn out like him!” She argued back.

“Taking his life doesn't make us like him! Y'know what it does?! It stops the problem for good!”

“So, what? You plan to kill him and not let him try to be better?”

“Better?! He has gone mad! He is going to do whatever it takes to rule Mobius. He has killed so many of our people. He has taken homes, lands and decimated them and you want him to stay around!”

“We aren't villains, Shadow!” Amy stated, leaning into his face. “I won't be responsible for having blood on my hands!”

“This is war, Rose. We all have blood on our hands, but it isn't robotic blood. It's the blood of our allies who died. Who sacrificed their lives to take that fucker out. If you can't see how much better the world will be, then we have nothing to discuss.”

Shadow walked towards the door leading inside.

“We aren't done here, Shadow!”

“Yes, we are.” He opened the door and slammed it behind him.

He skated to the medbay and saw Indigo waiting and watching from outside the operation room. He had to take a deep breath to calm himself as he got closer.

“Hey,” He pulled him close with one arm.

“Mom almost died on the table,” He hugged Shadow. “They said he is extremely weak.”

“I know, but he is clearly fighting. It's a good sign.” He looked through at the med staff. “Hey, go get a drink. I can stand watch until you come back.”

His son nodded and ran off. Shadow crossed his arms and took a deep breath. Then he looked at Sonic through the window. The quill had that sense of safety. He was probably having a conversation with his haunt. They must have brought Shadow up because that intense love for him flared up.

“Take your time, Maurice,” Shadow pulled out the quill from his glove and held it. “I know you are tired, and I know you are coming back. If you want a break though. I don't mind but don't keep our boy waiting okay? He has hardly slept.”

The energy spike from the last 6 months was weak. So weak that he feared Sonic wouldn't make it. This surge he saw and felt. The fight Sonic had left. He’d be fine, but he was still tired.

“I love you too. Keep fighting. When you are ready. We will end this.” He put the quill back. Indigo has returned.

“I felt mom. You are right. He is fighting.” His son smiled. “He'll be okay.”

“Yep,” Shadow put a hand on top of his head. “In the meantime, we make that man pay.”

“Right. For everything he did.” Indigo nodded.

_______________

It was another month of Sonic being at the base, fast asleep and recovering from surgery. It wasn't really a medically induced coma, but the doctor afterwards said his body was overworked. The amount of stress their hero took on mentally, physically and emotionally was too much. He bottomed on the table once and they were on edge after that. Reset ribs, reset a broken arm, the cuts all over had to be stitched up due to how deep they were, his knee had almost shattered and if that wasn't all bad enough. There were signs where he would be given a meal, but not enough to help his body naturally activate his accelerated healing.

Shadow could feel Sonic at times, but it was mostly just him sleeping. He could also feel that Sonic was trying to wake up to help. He missed Shadow. He missed Indigo. He missed Tails. He missed running. The world of dreams was safe, but he wanted out. Sadly, his body was taking its time to recover. The month let his knee recover along with his ribs. The rest of the cuts were healing but the stitches still held the wounds together. It was probably those cuts that kept him asleep. Whenever he touched the quill, he could feel Sonic long to see him. If he talked, he could feel him listening. It was enough for him to help on missions and start turning the tide of war. They had taken part of their world back and he made sure to tell him that. Supposedly, Eggman had a plan to go off in three days. It never came to pass.

Out of the blue, the doctor and the Death Egg, along with Infinite himself, vanished. They were on edge. Waiting as they took back their home. At any moment, that Battle Ship could return. At any second, more of his army could arrive. For now, they were just waiting and taking their home back. With troops at the ready at all times. Each city they took, they would leave behind a base with troops being trained to stand at the ready and others to monitor the sky around that part of the world. It gave them some peace to rebuild and prepare again. Shadow just wished Sonic’s body would let him wake up enough to see it.

When close to another month passed, they finally got some sign he was waking. Shadow had come back with food. Indigo wasn't eating and had curled up so tightly to fit into Sonic's quills. It was hard to do and he always failed. Sonic must have felt that because he finally spoke.

“Baby, you can't fit in my quills. You're too big.”

Indigo uncurled slowly and moved. Shadow set the food down on the table and ran over. Sonic slowly looked at them.

“Hey.”

Shadow laughed, “You're late.”

Sonic laughed. It wasn't hollow either. Chaos, he missed that sound. He sat on the bedside as Indigo hugged and curled up against Sonic's chest.

“Easy baby. Easy, mom's ribs are sore.” The hero took a deep breath. “Is Eggman still gone?”

“Yes,” Shadow gently picked his hand up and pulled the glove off. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.” He kissed Sonic's hand. “I'm sorry I didn't take him out.”

“Mm, you'll get your chance.” He saw the surprise on Shadow's face. “Even I know when someone crosses a line. We can't leave Eggman to his plane of existence. He's lost it.”

“Amy will have your head,” He whispered. “She wants us to spare him. To see if he can turn a new leaf over.”

“He won't. I wasn't just…stuck being tortured for six months for fun. There were two players making plans.” Sonic looked at Indigo. He couldn't get up, but he wanted to. “Infinite had other plans. I don't know what, but Eggman clearly didn't want me to live.”

“Infinite clearly had his own plans then. I overheard that eggman wanted to break you as much as he could. I won't ask for details. I don't want them. Nor do I need them.” Shadow held his hand. “Does this still feel fake?”

“Yes. He'd let me run, only to catch me. Until I couldn't run anymore. Then it was just me waiting for his next illusion and if it wasn't Infinite, it was Eggman testing my abilities. When my knee gave out…he just left me to Infinite.” Sonic explained and took a deep breath. “He tried…to turn you all against me and I…could only lay there and stay silent.”

“Did he ever use me?”

“Not the right version. He got mad when I didn't even engage with it. I never corrected his image. Didn't give him any information. He didn't even get Indigo right,” Sonic laughed and watched as his son repositioned himself in his sleep. “He thought Indigo looked like him.”

Shadow laughed, “what a stupid Jackal,” He let Sonic pluck another red quill off him. “You are gonna make me go bald.”

“What can I say? I love the red.” Sonic kissed the quill he pulled. “You take the same amount as I do.”

“Yeah well,” Shadow gently reached over and got another blue quill. “I don't mind. It means you can tell the Illusion from Reality. They are so blunt.”

“I'll shed them.” Sonic put the new quill behind his left ear “Yours remained sharp.”

“Has his?”

The hero nodded.

“Good. We can protect you,” Shadow stuck the new one under the left ear. A blunt quill would be a shoddy defense. “I know you want to run. I can feel it, but you have to recover. Indigo isn't going to let you out of his sight.”

His partner ran his ungloved hand through their son's quills. It got him to purr.

“You won't either,” Sonic whispered. “I can feel your intentions. Amy won't like that you took that position. I know you don't care, but that's the warning.”

“I don't care and that is something that she can deal with. Any mission you have, we go as a family.” He said.

“Okay.”

#sonshadow #sonic the hedgehog fanfiction #fanfiction #lansoni #sonic and the black knight #sonic the hedgehog #Sonic Forces #working towards the end of this series now

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