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marvelstoriesepic · 2 months ago

Text

Whumpcember (day 12)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Zombie apocalypse au)

Prompt: I have nowhere else to go

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers; zombies; mentions of murder; blood; death

Author’s note: This got a little too long for a fic that was initially meant to be a Drabble but I couldn’t bring myself to let it end earlier. And this was quite fun, since I’ve never written something like this before.

[Divider by @sweetmelodygraphics ]

Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist

Your side is stinging terribly, pulsing with every unsteady step.

Your legs fail at mimicking a normal stride, falling back into a limp.

Your hands tremble, defying every command to just stay still.

Your lungs sear with every breath, dragging air like fire down a raw throat.

Your head swims in chaotic loops, spinning with images and echoes you can’t escape.

Your shoulder and back throb from an impact you took earlier, sharp pain shooting up your spine with every jolt of your uneven stride.

The enormity of what just happened refuses to fit neatly into thought.

The sun is not even all up in the sky and your day already took a turn so cruel, you are teetering on the edge of collapse.

You stopped keeping track of time since this whole apocalyptic shit began but it's safe to say that you just lost everything you had in the span of maybe three hours.

You are exhausted. You are tired. You are in fear. You are in shock.

Acknowledging all of that is dangerous right now.

The world feels off-kilter.

Nausea rises again. Though there is nothing left in your stomach. You already emptied it on the forest floor before you stumbled into the trees, desperate to escape.

The acrid taste still lingers at the back of your throat.

The trees around you sway in your periphery, tall shadows painted in moonlight. It’s not the wind that makes them sway. It’s your vision. Branches claw at the sky like the dread claws at your resolve.

Your body is screaming at you to stop and collapse into the dirt, but you know if you let it, you won’t ever stand back up again.

You have to keep going.

You have to press on.

Your world has crumbled into rot and hunger, and all you have left is the instinct to run.

Run and survive.

Whatever that means now.

You have no sense of the distance you’ve put between you and the nightmarish scene you had to leave behind, no measure of the miles your aching legs already crossed.

You don’t know if they are right behind you. If they’re even coming for you.

It was barely dawn when they came.

It wasn’t a warning shot or a distant sound that reached the camp first. No, it was the impact.

The sound of boots trampling through the undergrowth, bodies charging through the trees, wild shapes silhouetted against the rising sun. Barked commands that carried no meaning, only menace.

You had barely time to register what was happening when they were already in the heart of the camp.

They scattered supplies, spilled meager rations into the dirt, kicked apart the fire pit still faintly glowing from the night before when your small group all sat in a circle around it.

With the first scream, violence erupted.

Blades flashed and mocking laughter rang out from all sides as you heard your companions cry out in terror and pain.

They scrambled from their makeshift shelters, some clutching weapons, others still groggy, confused, unarmed. There was no time to gather thoughts, no time to plan. The raiders were already upon you, tearing through tents and slaughtering everyone in their way.

You watched as Caleb lunged for them, but they cut him down before he even reached anybody.

You tried to get little Benjamin to safety but he got ripped away from you in a matter of seconds and you only felt the slash of a knife against your side.

You heard the guttural sobs of Jonna and her wide eyes as she couldn’t tear them off the lifeless body of her husband. You tried to reach her, grabbing her and getting her away but before you could, she got hit and fell. Just like her husband had moments earlier.

The thud of bodies hitting the ground, the clash of metal, the desperate screams of the people you knew and trusted, cutting off as quickly as they began, the splattered blood everywhere across the ground, slick on leaves, staining clothes of people who’d been alive only seconds earlier. Blood that is all over you, painted in your hair, in your face, on your hands-

You heave the bile against a nearby tree.

Your throat burns. The images burn. The memories burn.

The world is already torn apart as it is but they ripped at everything you had fought for.

You were pinned on the ground at one point. Brutally shoved down and the impact took your breath away. However, you were able to move out of the way of the knife that was meant for your face and instead buried into the ground. The surprise of your attacker weakened his hold on you and you were able to flee, but not without taking a few more hits.

Your friends were dead. Everything was destroyed.

So you ran.

You ran, stumbled, fell, scrambled up, and ran again.

You wondered if the raiders stayed to strip your makeshift camp bare or if they followed you. The last one alive. The one that slipped through their grasp.

Or maybe they’ve decided you’re not worth the effort, and your life hangs by nothing but chance.

After all, you feel death knocking on your door. And it will kick it in, hinges breaking and wood splintering if you don’t open it yourself.

But you won’t.

You push on. You will push your body to its breaking point.

Even if your mind shatters way before your body does.

Because you know you will crumble if you allow your thoughts to win over your body.

You just lost everything you had.

Your group was only on the move.

The camp was supposed to be a fleeting thing. A place to catch your breath from traveling. This morning you were all supposed to pack what little you had and keep moving and get closer to the sanctuary you had spoken of. A place you were going to build. A place where no raid, no nightmare, no lifeless beast could touch you.

So, if you had risen earlier, broken down the camp faster, perhaps this wouldn’t have happened. Perhaps your friends - the few people who so graciously took you in almost two years ago - would still be alive.

You don’t even know who the marauders were. They came out of nowhere.

A realization makes your blood run cold.

Something you remembered only now.

The sounds.

You heard it between the screams of your friends at one point. Low, throaty, and too familiar. The kind of sound that makes your pulse rise and pricks the back of your neck.

It was the sound you learned to fear. The sound your world had been drowning in for years now.

The sound of the dead - those shambling remnants of humanity, curses to wander the earth as mindless husks.

You remember the way they started moving so differently than when they came into your camp - some of them sluggish, others unnervingly erratic.

And you begin to wonder. Perhaps they had been bitten before raiding your camp.

And perhaps that’s the reason they came. They knew their time was up. They probably felt the infection eating at them, death clawing closer. Maybe attacking your group was their last violent eruption of humanity, the last thing they did with a conscious mind before they fell to the disease that had already claimed their souls.

They didn’t have anything left to lose. No loved ones to mourn. No future to fight for. Just an empty void ahead. A transformation into something even crueler than the monsters they already were. Perhaps they wanted this last conscious act to mean something. To carve their names into the memory of the world before they became nothing more than rotting corpses, stumbling through the dirt without a single thought in mind.

It makes you sick.

If they wanted to be remembered, they succeeded. You will remember. You will remember the massacre, the destruction, the screams, the wicked laughter that curdled your blood.

You will remember them because the screams of the people you came to love and trust have planted themselves into your chest and they won’t ever leave.

Maybe that’s what they wanted. To leave a mark, no matter how meaningless, no matter how vile. Or maybe they simply wanted to take something beautiful and shred it before they joined the walking rot.

Either way, they are gone now and you are left.

Alone.

You are left alone.

On the way to the one place you never thought your feet would lead you to again.

The one you meant to leave behind. To forget. To never return to. To move on.

Though you have to admit to yourself it never worked as well as you had hoped.

It has been two years since you left.

Two years of telling you to lock those doors with memories you tried to forget for so long.

And now, the thought of going back lets dread curl around your chest. It’s the dread of walking into a place you don’t know if you’re welcome anymore. The dread of facing what you left behind - facing who you left behind.

But there is also a flicker of something else. Something that feels too fragile, too dangerous to name. You tell yourself it’s nothing - just a memory, nostalgia - but you can’t quite smother it.

Because those people were your family once. Before you left, before you found the group you traveled with these last two years, they were your everything. Your friends, your loved ones, your sanctuary.

They were the ones that held you together when the world fell apart, the ones who gave you a purpose in this now purposeless society.

You left them behind to find something that you lost again just earlier.

The new group you had come to call your own, the people you fought beside, laughed with, dreamed with. All gone. Taken from you in a single, brutal morning. By people you couldn’t even take revenge on anymore. By people who aren’t even people anymore.

And you know your new companions never replaced your first family but they were home nonetheless.

But now, you have nowhere else to go but the place you called home first.

Though, would you really be welcome after all this time?

Would they let you in? Would they open their gates and arms for you?

Would he let you in?

Because truly, that is the only question that matters. You know the hearts of the others, know that they would be happy to see you again.

Sam, with his wide toothy grin. He’d throw his arms around you and clap you on the back and tell you something that would make you laugh despite everything.

Steve, with that glint in his eyes. Because he never truly believed you wouldn’t return.

Wanda, with the tears in her gaze. She’d pull you into her embrace, whispering how she’d prayed for this and never given up hope.

Natasha, with her amused smirk. She’d stand a step behind with her arms crossed and tease you that it only took two years for you to miss them enough to lose all the dignity you could hold onto and came back.

And all the others who would greet you with happy smiles and tears and hugs. Because that’s who they are. Who they’ve always been. They are pure love for those they call their own.

And you have been one of them.

Of course, your sight would first be met with concern at your condition, but the joyful reunion would eventually happen. Banner would fuss over you but keep the worry out of his calm hands and voice like the professional he is. Tony would bark orders, his mind already working ten steps ahead. Peter would hover nearby, ready to help, ready to do whatever was needed to put you back together.

You imagine how they would patch you up, make sure you didn’t collapse right there at their feet. They’d press water into your hands, bandage the gashes, stitch the torn skin. They would give you time to breathe, to settle.

A smile almost manages to spread over your lips but the exhaustion in your bones tugs the corners of your mouth back down.

And there is this one person you’re not sure about. What will he do when he sees you? What will he say? Will he say anything at all?

There is a reason you left, after all.

The community you all lived in was a big one with men and women and children and elders all sharing a beautiful and vast space.

You had all agreed on not having a single leader to rule but rather having the few most trusted people who started this whole thing to do councils every so often.

Once, you were one of them.

You would meet up, usually when the night had already started, discussing and making decisions - everything involving supply runs, how to keep the walls protected, how to celebrate a birth or mourn a loss, and so on.

Bucky was a part of that as well.

And that’s where the trouble lay.

You two never really seemed to see each other eye to eye. You would fight and banter - him calling you stubborn and reckless, you calling him pragmatic and intolerant. The disagreements were constant, heated, and sometimes public enough to turn heads and the other council members to end up disappointed and helpless.

It went on like that for years. Though the day it all fell apart will forever live in the cracks of your mind. Guilt never dulls no matter how much distance you put between them and yourself.

It was a supply run. Something that’s been routine by now. A scavenging mission into hostile territory, dangerous but necessary. Food was running low, medicine almost gone.

You were walking through the woods - a sector closer to dead zone, but Bucky and you were both fueled by anger at the other’s stubbornness to pay attention to the little group of people you took with you. They were good at ignoring your bickering.

“We do it my way. Slow, methodical. We’re not losin’ anyone because of some reckless stunt.” His tone was flat. Final.

“I’ve never put anyone in danger, Bucky,” you defended with fire in your voice.

Bucky’s voice was hard. “You charge in without thinkin’, every single time-”

“Yes, and I always do that alone, Barnes. Don’t you think I know the risks? I wouldn’t ask anyone to-”

“Damn it, Y/n,” he cut off, voice sharp. “It’s bad enough that you do it-”

“If we only ever go slow, people will starve. We can’t afford to waste time, Barnes. You want to lose them sitting on your hands instead of taking a risk? That’s on you, not on me.”

Bucky talked lower then, harshly.“That’s not taking a risk, Y/n! That’s fuckin’ suicide.”

The actual mistake was in the silence that followed. No compromise, no meeting of minds. Just the brittle quiet that stretched between you both and the tension that lingered even over the other group members walking with you.

Bucky’s jaw was tight, his steps heavy. Yours were no lighter.

It happened fast. As it always did. One moment, the woods were still, only the crunch of the leaves underfoot and a few insects in bushes and trees surrounding you.

The next, groans split the air, coming from every direction - shadows lurking between trees, their figures misshapen, their eyes empty.

There were too many of them. That was clear from the first breath, but you didn’t have time to process it, to count.

You shouted for the group to move, to break toward the clearing just ahead and they started rushing away until Bucky’s voice rose behind you. His commanding tone seethed in your veins.

“No! Fall back - circle to the ridge!”

But the clearing was closer. The clearing was safer.

So you said as much.

But that’s all the hesitation it took for the dead to gather closer. Close enough.

You lost precious time, precious ground. The damage had already been done.

Two people didn’t make it. Two lives, lost in the spaces between your choices.

The argument that followed was like nothing before. No banter. Not bickering. It was an unfiltered and ugly thing, charged by your guilt and his. Words were thrown, accusations hurled. It was awful.

And when the shouting stopped, there was nothing but silence. Thick. Unbearable.

Neither of you could let go of your anger, your grief, your pride long enough to see that you’d both failed them.

That day something shattered in your connection. Whatever that had been. The tension that always accompanied your relationship. It felt corrosive. Wrong.

And that’s when you made the decision. The decision to leave, that now led you to come back again.

Will he resent you? That thought is a blade that has turned itself dull from too much use, yet it still cuts at you in ways you can’t dodge.

You imagine him standing there, arms crossed, his face as unreadable as it would be stoic, staring at you with the fire that always burned behind his eyes.

Will he even let you step inside? Or will his anger boil over and turn you away, pushing you back into the wilderness you barely even escaped from?

Will he relish in your brokenness, in the way life has stripped you down to your very bones? Will he find satisfaction in seeing you this fragile, this vulnerable, clinging to scraps of pride as your body barely holds itself together? The image of his piercing gaze, not softened by time or mercy, sends a shiver down your spine.

But it also just might be your body starting to give out, you realize when more shivers whack your form.

You push on.

And you wonder. Could there maybe also be relief in those eyes, hidden behind the mask he always wears so well. Relief that you’re still alive, that whatever dark roads you’ve walked since haven’t claimed you completely.

Or would that relief be poisoned by something bitter - the satisfaction not of your survival, but of seeing you humbled, seeing you brought low enough to crawl back to him, back to the home you lied to yourself you were fine living without.

You picture his face shifting. A flicker of something softer crossing his features before he buries it deep. Will it pain him to see the bruises painted across your skin, the blood that’s long since dried on your hands and clothes, the tremble in your limbs while you stand before him like a ghost returned from the grave?

Will he turn you away, disgusted not by your injuries but by the weakness they represent?

You wonder if he’d speak at all. Silence, from him, could be worse than anger. After all, anger means caring. You don’t get angry if you don’t care.

So, perhaps you will be left to fill the empty space with your many regrets and guilty feelings.

Maybe he won’t even look at you. Don’t throw you a single glance, his gaze fixed somewhere distant.

But your conscience can’t help but imagine things.

Because what if he’d feel something he wouldn’t dare admit, not even to himself. That the faintest pull of relief isn’t for the pain you’re in, not for the way life has broken you, but that it is for the simple fact that you’re here, alive, breathing. Maybe that relief would be buried under layers of what he’d felt for you all those years. But it would be there.

Honestly, you don’t think you will ever get an answer to any of those questions. Because you feel your mind start to drift too much. As if the images in your head start to turn into dreams and your body is luring you into sleep to live them out.

You’re giving up.

And you are still not close enough to your old and now only sanctuary despite walking and dragging your frail form for hours and miles on end.

Your head is spinning, images and voices now blurred and upside down and all wrong.

Not even noticing you stopped dragging yourself forward, you start to lean the whole weight of your body against a nearby tree.

The bark is rough against your skin, scraping through fabric, digging into bruises, and tearing them raw. It should hurt. You know it should hurt, but it barely even registers anymore. It’s just another sensation - one more thing slipping away.

Your eyelids droop. They feel so heavy. The forest is shapeless around you, just a mess of color and shadow.

Your breaths come shallow and uneven, lungs forgetting to do their job. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you know this is it. This is where you’ll stop, where you’ll finally collapse and leave it all behind.

And the thought somehow isn’t as terrifying anymore. There’s a strange, unfamiliar peace blooming in your chest. You think about how your body would lie here, half-curled in the dirt, skin pale and bloodied, eyes forever closed.

Bucky might find you.

One day he might stumble upon your corpse on the ground. Maybe he’ll kneel beside your lifeless form, the frown on his face deepening, lips pressing into a grim line. Maybe he’ll tell you that he was right. That you were reckless and should have listened. Maybe his voice will tremble just a little.

The bickering you shared will follow you even into death.

The thought makes you want to laugh, but your body is too far gone for that. It’s barely your body anymore. It’s a shell of nothing. The world tilts, spins, then tilts again. You feel yourself begin to let go.

You won’t wake up. Not this time. And somehow, that’s okay. The peace blossoms brighter in your chest, warm and soft, as if the weight of the world is finally lifting.

You lost everything you had. And not even just today. You lost it two years ago when you decided it was the best to leave your home.

Your eyes slip shut and you don’t try to press them back open again. Your body is slumping to the ground, bark scraping against you, the ground rushing closer. The cold earth is pressed against your face. Your breath falters and slows.

Your body feels dead by now but your mind still blinks with awareness. And funnily enough, it can’t seem to let go of Bucky. His sharp face. His strong voice, the cadence of it so deeply carved into your memory that it echoes so clearly as if he were sitting right beside you.

“Y/n!”

“Shit, Y/n!”

It calls your name. The sound so urgent and frantic, it pulls you back for a fleeting second, though you are sure none of your muscles even twitch.

You are actually impressed with yourself. His voice sounds so real, so vivid. How is your mind able to conjure something so precise on the verge of unraveling completely? It’s him, down to the inflection, the roughness, the bite.

But you know it isn’t really him. That wouldn’t make any sense. Your mind is exaggerating. You’ve blown the image of him out of proportion, dressed him in a panic he wouldn’t wear for you, not for this.

If he found you like this - broken, slumped, slipping away - perhaps his voice wouldn’t even crack.

The day you said your goodbyes, Bucky wasn’t even there with the others. He wasn’t there when you hugged Sam, his arms lingering around you. Not when Steve couldn’t evoke a smile that wasn’t tight or sad. Not when Wanda touched your cheek with shaking fingers, her tearful eyes searching you for a reason to make you stay and telling you you’d always be welcome to come back home. Not when Natasha ordered you, not to get yourself killed out there, what was a little too late now.

You didn’t really expect him to come. Actually, it was better this way, you had thought. Cleaner. No last harsh words, no heated standoff, no last-minute chance for him to dig deep again.

Some stubborn, foolish part of you had hoped of course.

But that was when you saw him as you made your way to the gates.

He stood at the edge of the grounds you were about to leave behind, hidden in the shadows of bushes and trees. His arms were crossed over his chest, his figure rigid, his face set in stone.

You willed not to let your heart clench, but it did. You told yourself he was just there for a final gloat, some grim satisfaction in watching you go. In seeing you lose.

But his eyes held yours. So unwavering and intense. It burned through you. His features were dark, but also, he did stand covered in shadows. However, there was no smirk, no triumph, no venomous parting shot.

But he didn’t move. He didn’t step forward, didn’t say a single thing. He didn’t do anything but hold your gaze as if daring you to be the one to break it.

And you did.

You had a new life to attend to.

And you didn’t look back when leaving.

Still, you felt the burn of his eyes on you, so much more intense than ever before.

You guessed he dropped that stoic, seemingly unhappy mask the moment you were out of sight. Maybe he even threw a silent celebration, relieved to finally be free of you, of the friction you brought into his life.

But the small annoying voice in the back of your mind whispered something else. Something that actually made you consider turning back around before you got ahold of yourself again.

It told you that maybe his expression had stayed dark long after you were gone. That maybe his gaze lingered on the empty path where you’d disappeared. That maybe his arms stayed crossed, not to shield himself from the cold but to stop himself from reaching out.

And your brain now doesn’t seem to have any doubts either because you might actually feel hands shaking you, gripping your face. There weren’t many times when you came in contact with Bucky’s hands, and only fleeting and unintentional, so you don’t know if your conscience got the feeling of his hands on you right but you relish it anyway.

You hope he’d worry. You hope so much. Why, you don’t even know. It’s not like it matters anymore. But you need him to worry.

You need him to feel something sharp, something visceral. You need the cracks in his stoic armor to show and your name on his lips to sound like a prayer instead of a reprimand.

“Stay with me, Y/n! Come on!” It’s a snarl and a plea at the same time.

His voice is pulling you back - or maybe it’s pulling you under. You can’t really tell the difference. It is the kind of sound that is too rough to be tender, too desperate to be cruel.

His voice gnaws at something in your awareness, steering something deep in your bones.

Hell, your dying brain is doing a hella good job.

The world shifts again. Or maybe it’s you who shifts. The sharp bark of the tree is gone suddenly, as though the earth has abandoned you. Or perhaps your body just lost any kind of sensation, because there is nothing solid beneath you anymore. The ground is gone.

Free fall grips your stomach for a second, and panic sparks weakly in the recesses of your mind. But before the fear can take root, you feel something else. Something warm.

Not the feverish heat that’s been chewing at your skin for hours. Not the sticky warmth of blood still drying against your ribs.

No, this is something different. Hard, but not unkind. Solid, but not unforgiving. It presses against your body, and for the first time in what feels like days, it doesn’t hurt.

You don’t know what is happening. You only know you want more of it. Tilting your head as best as it would go, you lean into it as much as your useless limbs allow, seeking that warmth like it’s the only thing keeping you from succumbing to nothingness.

And then the pieces click together.

You’re being carried.

There is an arm under your legs, another braced firmly around your back. The grip is strong but it is trembling faintly against you.

You are cradled against something warm, something alive. And there is a pounding against your ear that is way too rapid to seem healthy.

None of this makes sense, not really, but the sensation of movement - the sway and jolt of steps, hurried but careful - tells you that you’re not imagining this.

Someone has you. Someone’s carrying you.

Your battered mind, of course, latches onto Bucky again.

Your brain shapes the thought of him so effortlessly. Some part of you knew it could only ever be him. You picture his face, sharp and shadowed, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark and heavy with something you don’t dare name.

“Damn it, stay with me! Stay awake!”

Is this him saying that? Or is this your mind still indulging in the vivid fantasies from before? Perhaps this wasn’t your mind all along. Perhaps all of this wasn’t a fantasy of your brain. This was him.

You feel the tight hold with which he is gripping you, how it feels less like he is carrying you and more like he’s keeping you from slipping away entirely.

It doesn’t seem like the Bucky you knew. The one who looked at you with barely concealed irritation, who argued with you until you were both red-faced and seething.

But then again, maybe it does. Maybe this is the same man, stripped bare of all his armor, his stoic resolve fractured like you had imagined. Maybe this is what he looks like when he doesn’t have time to mask the cracks.

The thought makes your chest ache. Or maybe that’s just your ribs - stabbed, bruised, barely functional. You can’t tell anymore.

You want to open your eyes, to confirm what you already know, but your eyelids are heavy, unwilling.

You want to reach for him, to feel with your hands that his worry really is your reality and not all in your head, but your arms hang limply at your sides. Useless.

But your face is pressed against his shoulder. The speeding throbbing of what you assume to be his heart is still in your ear and it makes this so much more real.

“Don’t you dare die on me now, Y/n! Not after this.” His ragged words send swaying currents through the still waters of your fading consciousness. “Not like that! Not after I’ve been looking for you for two damn years!”

Wait.

What?

The words ring like a bell, too loud, too pronounced. You feel yourself struggling with comprehending the meaning of this but the shock still rushes up your spine.

Bucky was looking for you. He didn’t celebrate your departure. He came after you.

You left two years ago. Bucky started searching for you two years ago.

“I should’ve stopped you. Fuck, I should have stopped you. I never should’ve let you leave.” His voice is a single crack. So much remorse seeping into his tone, it even latches onto your chest.

“God I’m so sorry I let you leave. I’m so sorry for everything, Y/n! There’s so much I gotta tell you. So much I gotta make right. So you don’t get to do this, alright? You don’t get to die on me!”

His voice doesn’t sound like him at all. The Bucky you remember used measured words, calculated, controlled. Doubt again creeps in that this really is real and not just your mind all up in shambles. Because there is so much pain in his voice. Pain you never saw inflicted in anything he did. Or said. Not to you at least.

Your body jolts in his grip, caused by his hands. He might have tried to shake some life back into you but his hands don’t stop shaking. They are trembling so heavily, as if he’s terrified you’re going to slip through his grasp at any second. As if you’re going to die in his arms. Maybe you will.

“You’re staying with me, you hear me?” he continues, low voice filled with gravel, so wild and anguished. “There’s so much I need to tell you. So much I need to say. But I can’t-” his voice gives out and you basically hear him trying to hold himself together. His breaths are uneven and broken. “I can’t do it like this. No, not like that. So you gotta pull through. You can’t leave me before I get the chance to tell you. Can’t die on me now that I’ve finally fucking found you. You can’t, Y/n! Please! Stay with me. Just stay.”

You try to open your eyes. Try to let your fingers twitch. Try to open your mouth. But there’s nothing.

You can’t tell him that you’re trying. You can’t tell him that you want to hear what he has to say. Can’t tell him that you’re clinging to his every word. Can’t tell him that you’re fading away.

Only a broken exhale slips through.

His arms tighten, pulling you impossibly closer.

He’s pushing himself. His muscles strain and coil, his body still trembles against you. His voice is breathless and full of despair..

“Stay awake! Look at me. Just- please open your eyes. Just for a second. I need to see them. Need to know you’re still in there, okay?” His words are torn, pulled apart, and put together in a desperate attempt. Tears fill his voice. “You always had to prove me wrong, so do it again. Fight. Fight, Y/n! Please!”

Bucky makes it sound like it could actually be easy. But unfortunately, it’s not. His voice is more distant now. Perhaps it’s giving out. Perhaps it’s the hope that leaves him, taking his voice.

Yet, you’re trying to hold onto it. You’re trying so much.

If he says more, you don’t catch it. You don’t catch anything anymore. You think you might be okay with that. Because even if this isn’t real - even if this is all just a fever dream conjured by a dying mind - you think it’s a good way to go.

Sheltered in warmth. In motion. In the arms of the one person you never thought would come for you.

228 notes · View notes

aineryeo · 6 months ago

Text

The Legend of the Blue Sea Episode 2: Once Upon a Dream

Chapter Synopsis:

Kenji still doesn't know that you've bonded with him, considering him as your mate from there on out. What he does, however, is take a bath with you as he inches on the edge of being the father of a cute giant pink baby lizard; where he makes the decision of keeping you around too. Just enough to investigate about your possible human personality, of course.

Themes & Warnings (Chapter):

Author Notes:

Okay I think this is going a little slow HAHAHA, I changed my mind regarding a few plot points but I literally wrote the ice bath scene at 4-5 am in the morning because I couldn't sleep. i keep DREAMING about it. like it wasn't supposed to be part of the chapter tbh but i think st. michael was giving me a sign !!

The Legend of the Blue Sea: Masterlist

Episode 2: Once Upon a Dream ⇾ Episode 3.1: Maybe This Time

“Mom? Mom…” Kenji sobs, there are small sounds of pit-a-pats from where he stood. Which was a community playground filled with colourful slides, swing sets, tubes, and sandboxes.

The playground however, was not as lively as you’d think. The weather was gloomy that day, the sun hiding behind rumbling clouds threatening to spill the water they’ve soaked up from the sea. Kenji kept looking around, yet he remained lost, the same as he was five minutes ago. To the seven-year-old boy, it was like five months.

“Hi,” a girlish voice cuts through the sobs of the only other kid around. “Why are you crying? The other kids here say that boys aren’t supposed to cry.”

Kenji frowns, lips still wobbling as he makes his reply. “I lost my mom…”

“Oh.” You hum, looking down at your mismatched socks, noticing how the boy visibly had brand-new sneakers. “Hmm… Don’t worry, I lost mine too.”

“Really?” The boy replies, nose still stuffy as he tries to wipe it with his sleeve. “Will they find us?”

You shrug. “My real one won’t find me.”

“Your real one? You have a fake mom?” Kenji asks, curious.

“I don’t know. I never met my real one.” You reply, walking to the swings and taking a seat. Kenji does the same, sitting next to you. “But I know my mom right now isn’t my real mom, so, I ran away.” You say all this with such a tone that didn’t contain much sadness; as if it was just a normal thing to do so.

“What? Why?” Your feet kick yourself off the ground, allowing you to move back and forth. Kenji follows suit, trying to match your force. Once he got the hang of it, he continues. “Are you not scared?”

“I am. But they don’t want me, I think.”

There are a few seconds of silence as Kenji could no longer spark up a reply. All you both could do was swing on the set together. Feeling like he has to say something, Kenji blurts out the first thing that came to mind.

“My dad said I should love kaiju even if he fights them.”

“Woah! Your dad fights the giants?!” You exclaim, digging the heels of your red shoes on the dirt below. Kenji only nods at this. His swing keeps going. “I think the kaiju are super cool. And Mr. Ultraman too. Is your dad Ultraman?”

“Dad says it’s a secret.” Kenji replies with a pout.

“Then, would you love a kaiju?”

The question makes Kenji stop, the swing set back in its still state as you stare at each other’s eyes.

“Baka! Why would I love—” Kenji stops, your eyes remain wide and curious. And despite the stormy weather, they still chose to shine. A heat creeps up from his neck up to the tips of his ears for reasons beyond him.

“...I’m, maybe?” He trails off, breaking your intense eye contact. He then mutters, unsure and low:“If they’re cute enough, why not?”

Before you could respond, however, you two started feeling the rain slowly drop down, seconds before it turned into a downpour.

“Ah! It’s raining!” Kenji exclaims. Without saying anything, you grab the boy’s hand, leading him into the plastic tube to hide from the rain.

“We can hide here while you wait for your mom.” You assure, you and Kenji sitting with your knees bent to hug yourself better. Every other second, you scoot closer to each other, trying to get warm from the cold breeze picking up.

It’s a few minutes more of silence, maybe ten or so, that Kenji felt like crying again. You heard sniffles from beside you, making you tilt your head to see his glassy eyes, tears brimming the edges.

“Dummy, are you going to cry again?”

“I miss my mom and dad…” Kenji says quietly, digging his face into the caps of his knees.

You breathe out through your nose, feeling bad for the boy.

“Here, face me.”

Kenji hums, still upset as he does what he’s told.

“You can’t be sad after this, okay?” You say as you lean in and Kenji felt your lips meet his. “There. That means I’ll be around when your mom and dad aren’t. So, stop crying okay, dummy?”

“You’ll… be around when mom and dad aren’t?” Kenji says after the brief kiss, not really processing what just happened. Both your cheeks and nose were a mix of warmth from each other, and cold from the rain.

“Yes.” Kenji continues to look at you curiously, waiting for more context.

“My mom and dad right now say that’s how married people are. They stay together even if no one else is around.”

You point your small finger to his face, he looks at it then back at your unyielding gaze.

“Especially if no one else is around.” You share the valuable piece of knowledge with Kenji who soaked it all in like you were a prophet. He nods slowly.

“Then, we’re married?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

The conversation ends as you two bask in silence again. This time, Kenji is the one to look over at you, staring at your sombre look towards the passersby covering their children with their umbrella; carrying them on their arms to avoid them getting wet. Your expression barely changes, but the way your eyes lidded lower.. it compelled Kenji enough to hold your hand, shocking you.

“Hey! What’s wrong with you?” You ask, mostly out of shock. But you don’t let go.

“I’ll be here too.”

You realise he’d been staring at you when he said that, making you turn away, resuming your waiting game as you squeezed his hand lightly. He squeezes back. The rain somehow felt more mellow.

Half an hour later, Kenji’s mom arrives at the playground with his dad, ushering him to their car. As Kenji was about to point towards you, he sees you running through the rain, cutting a corner, before disappearing out of his sight.

“What is it, Ken?” Emi Sato asks, carrying the boy in her arms as she checks for injuries, now in the backseat of their car. She glances towards where her son’s eyes were fixated, seeing nothing but the empty playground.

Kenji only shook his head, choosing to say nothing. All he could think about now was when he’ll meet the person he married again.

“Were you lonely, Ken?” His mother asks. He perks up to look back towards his mother’s worried gaze.

There’s only one answer dripping from the tip of his tongue, his hand tingling in warmth, remembering the soft embrace it had just minutes prior.

“No…”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Your lips were soft against Kenji’s slightly chapped ones, both your bodies stuck in the motion of the accidental kiss. There was a small spark of electricity that climbed up from the bottom of your spines, a tingle that's much too noticeable.

It was merely six seconds.

Kenji would know.

He counted.

Six seconds for you to pull away, five of you just staring into the other’s similarly wide orbs; four for Kenji to catch a whiff of that addicting scent he never noticed until now, and three before your eyes finally drooped, your head nuzzling his chest. Kenji's plain white shirt getting wet alongside with it before he feels your whole frame lose its tension, breathing resuming its slow and quiet rhythm.

Kenji remains quiet, his brain absolutely fried, staring straight ahead as he sits to support your weight, comparatively light for the athlete and occasional superhero, especially now that you weren’t a giant. His hands hover over the smooth expanse of your bare back, his legs spread, lightly encaging your snoozing figure. His mouth still ajar, not a word slipping from him.

Eventually, his hands meet the damp skin of your shoulder and the middle of your back, pushing your figure against him even more. He supports your head that was now resting on his shoulder, even as your hair lightly tickles his ear.

“Ken.”

The sudden call of his name from Mina finally releases him from whatever trance he was in. Almost forgetting the giant baby kaiju a few metres away from him who, surprisingly, had settled down; sitting on its hind, watching you and him with a curious gaze.

“I… Uh, yes. Sorry. Uhm,” He clears his throat. “Could you fetch us a towel, Mina?”

It takes only a minute before the ground next to him opened up, a mechanical hand holding the extra white towel was handed to the boy, who takes it wordlessly, working to wrap it around you as delicately as he possibly could. Taking note of your legs and arms littered in bruises and quite nasty wounds.

“I’ll take her to my room, watch over the baby for a minute.” Kenji says. “I’ll prepare the guest room tomorrow.”

“Sure, Ken.”

Once you were wrapped in the soft cotton, Kenji moved to carry you in his arms effortlessly, though he winces every now and then when he rotates his left shoulder a little too much, though it wasn’t that big a deal compared to your injuries. While walking, he would glance at your face, peacefully asleep as if you weren’t even hurt at all. He notes that your eyelashes were the same colour as your hair and eyes, that is, they’re all prismatic in nature; and with the absence of light, there is the absence of colour, where he understands your features much better.

Kenji arrives at his bedroom, setting you down gently on his king-sized bed, turning the duvet so that it covers you, he doesn’t think much of his sheets getting damp from your hair.

You remain unmoving, both hands rested on your stomach. Kenji finally takes a deep breath in as he drops his weight to the apex of his feet, crouching as he really takes in what happened.

His hands covers his face; lightly messing his hair in the process as an unexplainable heat pushes its way up from his chest.

Apparently, what happened smelled like Hinoki Wood and Yuzu.

“Ken, your father is waiting outside the door. It seems he has driven here in a haste.”

“Min— Shhh,” He chastises, stopping mid-call to lower his voice.

“I’ll get to it.” He whispers in reply.

Easily enough, he’s getting off his feet and shutting his door closed as he made his way to the front door. On the way, he starts hearing distant music and giggles from downstairs, along with flashing lights.

“Mina!” Ken calls out from the living room. “What’s going on?”

“The baby had begun fussing two minutes after you two went upstairs, I have discovered that she is currently happy with Doraemon”

Kenji sighs, “Okay, but keep it down a little. Dad might suspect something.”

“But there is something.” Mina replies.

“Shut it, Mina.” He interjects, Mina doesn’t reply, knowing that Kenji particularly has a difficult situation with his father.

Kenji opens the door, looking back to regard if the lights are still on, just as he looks to see that his dad was about to knock.

“Kenji,” his dad almost whispers, a relieved undertone transfixed in the simple call of his name.

In haste, he runs his hand through his hair, ears still catching the tunes playing in the basement.

“Dad, hey. Hey, what’s up?” Kenji leans in, slyly closing the door a little bit more, giving worried glances towards the glass elevator before giving his minute focus back towards his father. “How about that game tonight?” He plays dumb.

“Oh, thank God. You’re okay?” His father fusses.

“Yeah, you know. I’m good.” He allows a little bit more of his body to show that he really was good. “It was a tough battle. I’m a little sore, still recovering, but—”

Suddenly, a screech that Kenji knew was from the baby kaiju pierced through the air, making him reel back in defence behind the front door. His dad, the invader, moving a pace forward like a rook on a chess board made it easy for Kenji to spot the suspicion on his face.

“What was that?”

“Uh…” He needs to come up with something— “Uh, you know. It’s… Uh…” Suddenly, the lights behind him visibly changes. Green, blue, pink—

“That’s the.. The party downstairs.” He jives along.

Kenji fails to notice the swift change, the quirk of his father’s eyebrows. “The most magnificent creature on Earth has died. The last of its kind.” With each word, his father’s words become more punctuated with anger, hands flailing along with it.

“And you throw a party!?”

Red. For a brief second or two, Kenji’s mind, his thoughts, were clouded in red; an emotion quickly visible in his face and body.

“That magnificent creature nearly took my head off, Dad.”

This time, each word was not only punctuated in anger, but stomps that slowly but surely made his father back away from the shelter of Kenji’s patio, the rain dripping on the old man who could only recede and listen to his enraged son.

“I’ve barely seen you in twenty years. You chose this city and literal monsters over us.”

“No…”

“Then, you get hurt, can’t hack it anymore, and I get to come back and clean up the mess you made as…” Kenji raises his hands in mockery as he sings the branded tune the masses had placed upon his famous counterpart. “Da, da, da, da! Ultraman.”

“—Which I only did because Mom begged me.” Kenji pauses. “And you’re more worried about the monster. Classic.”

With eyes that sheened in a way that scratches at Kenji’s nerves, his father chalks up a reply. “No… I only wanted to.. protect you.”

It claws in his chest, a familiar wall that’s repeatedly been torn again and again, by the same person; enough so that Kenji could still feel the recurring pain, but no longer does he break down from it.

“But you didn’t.” He says, eyes glassy. “You didn’t even pay attention.”

The furrow in his father’s eyes disappear, a notable change; cognizant of his actions.

Kenji continues.

“Be honest. When Mom disappeared, did you even look for her?”

“I stopped hearing it.”

“Stopped hearing what?”

“Do you think kaiju have a special way of communication?” Tadashi asks mindlessly, spinning on his desk chair.

“All animals do, now let me sleep.” Hiro replies, covering his head with a pillow to possibly drown out whatever his big brother could mutter.

But telepathically?

Is there a possibility? Tadashi thinks, leaning on his elbows that rested on his knees, fingertips of his hands on each other.

And if he can hear it, why can’t Hiro?

Tadashi leans back on his desk chair with an audible sigh. If he were being honest, he didn’t know why he was suddenly so invested in the recent kaiju sighting. His eyes fixated on the smaller version of his whiteboard dedicated to his looking for you in the past three years hidden behind the shelves in his lab at Tokyo Tech. He often hides this side of him from Hiro. This side of him that’s… too dedicated in his search that definitely has been fruitless for years.

It’s simple.

The scene of the incident, a huge gap in the wall of the building where your personal laboratory was; a trail of disaster followed right after. Like many other kaiju incidents, everyone suspected that it had walked from the sea. Considering that the building was situated on the seaside.

It was late at night when it happened, you went back to your office because you left something and… that’s it?

You’re just.. gone? Now he has to grief over his sister who he had just spoken to an hour prior to your leaving asking if you wanted some ramen he was cooking because he was too busy studying for his exams and— Tadashi had to catch his breath even though he wasn’t speaking, feeling his heart beat a mile a minute.

They weren’t given much information past that.

The authorities say that they were just unfortunate that a kaiju had attacked the facility; no security footage, considering that the building was crushed in half. But out of everyone, the guards, other leftover researchers, they were able to leave unscathed while your brothers had to deal with the loss of their pillar; their big sister. Unable to even confirm if you’re dead or not, hoping that you’ll come back, even injured, to them.

Tadashi ran his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that night.

Truthfully, he was about to give up. He was about to take off all the newspaper clippings, all the letters, all your bank records, any and all leads from his rolling whiteboard; erase all the theories, and maybe, just like his little brother always told him… to just.. move on.

But then, on the way home after Tadashi introduced Hiro to his friends at Tokyo Tech after getting arrested for that night when Hiro won one of many of his recurring bot fights, the invasive sounds of the oceans permeated through his mind; wrapping around it gently like a blanket of warmth, telling him, making him understand— that he had to go there. To you.

“Bioacoustics.” Tadashi snaps, getting his favourite cap off his desk as he runs down the door. A course set to Tokyo Tech.

He leaves, not knowing his little brother whose eyes blink open, a frown on his face.

We share the pain of her loss, Kenji.

“Yeah, right.” Kenji mutters beneath his breath.

A few hours have passed since his dad visited and left, a few hours into the morning. He hadn’t gone down yet, choosing to just have the time to himself for at least once today. A box of donuts beside him as he slumped down lazily on his couch. The distant sound of thunder and the whining of the baby fills Kenji’s ears.

He sighs heavily. Kenji knew that he stepped a line earlier when he mentioned his mother to which his father solemnly left right after he said the same words that were stuck in his head amongst other things. It seems like there’s too many things getting stuck in his head recently, and just for this day alone. How did he even get into this mess?

He was so tired, yet he couldn’t sleep a wink.

Kenji would walk around aimlessly, every other time going to his room just to look at you from the doorframe; still and unmoving, your eyelashes resting easily on your now dry cheeks. From here, where your fins and scales were hidden by the combined efforts of your towel, hair, and his duvet; you absolutely looked human. Maybe part of the 0.1% because of your inhumanely beautiful hair. A princess would fit. You look like a resting princess to Kenji. And he, with his dishevelled hair, stained shirt, and day-old pants, would probably be the fucking peasant on your feet.

Kenji disregards the thought, the shrill whine of the baby reaching his ears. He groans, head drooping down as his hand slides from the frame. Walking towards the elevator after getting his donuts, he heads down to the basement.

Mina, in a slightly panicked tone, explains the baby’s neverending screeches that added on to Kenji’s inability to sleep.

“She settled down for a minute, then started right back up.”

“Yeah! I can hear it!” Kenji replies, exasperated.

“She’s still scared of you, Ken.” Mina explains as Kenji puts down his box of donuts on the floor.

“Ya think?” He gets sassier by the minute, Mina thinks.

Looking back at the shrieking baby, Kenji groans; before clapping his hand with faux energy, walking a little further back to try a little trick up his sleeve.

“Hey! Hey, hey.” He calls out, catching the baby’s attention. “Hiii!”

“Let’s try this.” Kenji mutters, the baby still frowned, faux cries coming from its little— big beak. Kenji motions to himself, “Beforeee.”

Then, he bumps his head as he transforms into his alter ego. “After!”

When the baby caught sight of her other sole parent, a smile was quickly seen on her face.

“Before,” She whines.

“After!” She smiles, chitters crooning from her throat, visibly pleased.

And it goes on like that for a minute, enough so that the baby, seeing her dad transform in and out of Ultraman form, give off a confused expression, still trying to put two and two together. Eventually, her chitters come when Kenji is in Kenji form.

Kenji sighs as he approaches the now happy baby. “You see? It’s me.” He explains, turning around and sitting next to his box of donuts once more.

And it wasn’t even two minutes in that the baby started whining again.

[...]

After tending to the baby that Kenji creatively decided to temporarily name ‘Baby,’ giving her a litter of fish for an early morning breakfast— considering it was probably 3 AM by then, Kenji fell asleep on the floor in front of Baby’s containment unit.

And woke up to strange drops of liquid on his face.

“Eugh, what the…” His eyes, still squinted and opting for sleep, meets the hazy vision of the baby looking down at him, dripping drool. Drool on him, smelling strongly of fish and guts, and… and.. and drool!

Kenji rolls over quickly just before a fat drop falls directly on his face while his mouth was open.

“Oh, God.” He spits out, trying to wipe the substance off his face. “Ew! Ew!”

He scowls in a second, transforming into his Ultra. Baby tries to reach for him, but Kenji was already on the verge of throwing up from the stench, his fingers pinch the nape of the baby’s neck like she was a kitten. A disgusting trail of spit follows the baby around and Kenji keeps trying not to gag at every moment when he pulls the baby off the edge of the containment unit.

“Ugh, that’s disgusting.” He shakes his head, hand reaching for the lid of the unit. “Oh, that smell.” He looks at the baby who was so happy in return; tummy full from the meal he haphazardly gave earlier. But then suddenly she burped and let out a glob of drool, enough to cover nearly half of his Ultra’s face, luckily turning a little so as not to swallow anything. He coughs, really about to throw up. Quickly putting the baby back to the bottom of the containment unit, he rasps out a few more gasps and Oh Gods before putting the lid back on where it belonged, not seeing the baby try to reach for him.

“It’s so bad.” Kenji coughs out.

Kenji stumbled back releasing his Ultra-form. Crouching a little as he groans out. “I shouldn’t have eaten all those donuts.” He gasps, brain actively fighting to ignore the horrid smell surrounding him when Mina suddenly approaches him.

“Ken, I know you’re exhausted. But you have a game today.” He has a what?

“After last night? There’s no way we’re gonna play.” He shakes his head.

Mina moves back to flash the holographic news of his coach declaring that despite the battle, the stadium is safe, and we will be playing the game. Oh, bullshit. He is not excited to even see that Yakult Swallows fucker.

“Of cooourse. Of course, we’re still gonna play.” Kenji says, frustration evident in his tone.

“What are we going to do about the baby and the woman, Ken?”

“We aren’t gonna do anything.” Ken replies, shrugging, a mechanical hand giving him his Giants jacket.

“You are gonna have to figure something out.” He continues, putting on his jacket backwards without thinking, walking towards the glass elevator. “Get creative, Mina. You are a state-of-the-art supercomputer.”

The hovering orb listens as she understands the orders given to her; turning back to flash a different kids show towards the baby.

“Studies suggest this isn’t healthy for children.” She states, upbeat music overtaking the basement as the baby immediately fell in fascination of the bright colours.

“Ah, TV, the ultimate babysitter. Just not all this crap all day, okay? I don’t want her getting hooked on that stupid song.”

When finally arriving upstairs, the sun has already risen, he opted to take a quick shower to get rid of all the nasty fish spit left on him by the baby. When entering his room right after to get some clothes, he finds you still fast asleep. Not a twitch, not a hair out of place.

A towel still wrapped around his waist, Kenji decides to approach you in quiet footsteps. If only to check if you were still breathing, and you were, he confirms, after placing his ear close to your face.

“I wonder what your name is,” He says lowly, sighing and sparing you one last look before going to change and leaving for today’s game.

⌈ And there’s another strike. Sato just looks exhausted. ⌋

⌈ And now it looks like there are words being exchanged between Sato and the Swallows catcher. Oh! Oh no. We haven’t seen a brawl like this in a long time. Both benches have cleared. They’re throwing punches… ⌋

Now, Kenji was watching this morning’s replay of his ruffle with that stupid Swallows catcher in the middle of his living room. Watching as he sees a pathetic version of himself, missing strike after strike. A litter of bruises and small cuts on his face, his knuckles a nasty mix of blue and purple from delivering similarly menacing blows because of his undiluted anger.

He doesn't sense the silent footsteps approaching him in the dark room, head too deep in the failures within his past two days and the injuries he’s incurred so far. A whine falls from his lips as he tries to appease the patched bruise on his temple with the premium canned drink that mockingly had his once flawless face plastered on.

It was only when you were standing right beside him, dipping your finger in the ice did Kenji fully comprehend that someone was in the room with him. He yelped, almost sitting up.

“H-hey.” Kenji exclaims. “You're awake. What are you—”

His words die down from his throat, words turning to a gulp, when the loose towel around you drops to the ground, exposing you to the man who had his mouth agape, taking it all in before he realises he should be darting his eyes away.

You don't spare him a glance when you try to step in the tub, Kenji moving his feet to give you room, and really, to begin getting out of there.

I mean, he can't just bathe with you, can he? Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to take the indulgent step of bathing in the middle of the living room.

His efforts to go and step out are stopped when you gently place your soft hand on his rigid arm. You're quiet, voice unheard, but it seems like your sounds that blanket over Kenji's cortexes are working just fine. And it— you said:

Stay.

Like a puppy, he felt compelled to stay.

So he did.

You stared at him, and he observed your movements, the cooled can from his hand had long been forgotten as you kneel between his legs, your ice-cold hands dragging along his. From his palm, to the space between his fingers, to his knuckles and… Up, up, up, following the veins that decorated his overworked arms, the ticklish sensation made him drop the can from his lightened grip.

All the while you looked at him so earnestly, and in this light, it's like there was a brief flash of the more natural hue of your features; the usual iridescence dialling down a notch, making Kenji, among the other things you were doing to him, hitch his breath for the subtle flicker in changes.

The moment was quiet, none of you talking as the volume of the video he watched on repeat had been dialled down in his head. All it was in this moment was your touch on his, every gentle, slow drag of the freezing tips of your fingers on his bruises and scratches left such a sensation. Like electric fire on water, but also ice on skin on the hottest summer days.

Whether it was a spark or from the cold, or from something else entirely, Kenji at this moment, didn't care to know. Because your hands finally reached his collarbones, thumb rubbing circles on his Adam’s apple, and if you weren't so… so delicate with your touch, he would have blamed you for making him feel so choked. Like he couldn't breathe, like he didn't want to breathe anything else but the addicting scent you were giving off. You’d have to have been in the ocean for so long. How come you smell like this? Not of salt or fish, or—

He cuts his own thoughts off as he hears a small hum from your throat, his eyes that he hadn't noticed to be so lowly lidded already, on the brink of closing from your light caresses, widens at the slightest hint of your voice.

Your hand traces up from his collarbone, up to his neck, until you're perusing your way to his bruised cheek and damp hair. When you decide to leave your hand on his injured cheek, pressing a little, Kenji involuntarily lets out a whimper, the pain from the punch of that stupid catcher unironically catching up to him.

But even with this, Kenji finds himself leaning to your touch, eyes instinctively closing when the pressure returns to a light careen, allowing himself to delve deeper into the abyss you were taking him into. His cheek where your hand lay felt cool, a separate feeling from the ice, like it's carefully taking his pain away.

You move the slightest bit, hand pulling away; and Kenji's first instinct when his eyes shot open was to hold your wrist.

“Don't,” He whispers quietly, his cool breath fanning you who looked at him with your currently doe eyes in surprise. It seems that Kenji has a habit of not noticing things involving you. He didn't flinch from the closeness, a surprisingly welcome gesture for him. “Don't stop.”

For a brief moment, he forgets that you're half-kaiju, and that you haven't spoken a word at all since you two met. But when you rise from the water, bare chest seen for his eyes only, his other arm wraps itself on your waist subconsciously. Your legs and his tangle as he sits lower on the bathtub, allowing you to sit taller than him so he can bury his face on the curve of your neck and shoulder, dipping down to the valley of your soft breasts as he sighs in contentment, eyes closed all the while his arms wrap around your torso.

You were sitting on Kenji's navel, arms wrapped around his neck as your hands combed through his hair while you rested your cheek on his temple. It was quiet, not even the sound of the looping clip on the wall-to-wall TV was getting any of yours and Kenji's attention.

It's soothing, this feeling.

Kenji feels like you’re unravelling the knots on his physique, the pure sensation makes his fingers run along your slightly arched back in appreciation.

With his eyes closed, trapped in your soft embrace, Kenji allows the time to pass by. Not seeing the slowly pulsing, bioluminescent glow of the once normal water of his ice bath. The cooling sensation wasn’t from the ice any longer, but from the conduction of your healing enzymes, your kaiju features coming out strong, the brief reprise of your earlier change in features disappearing, replaced back into its original state of prismatic disposition.

“Ken,” Mina’s slightly excited voice calls out and Ken snaps his eyes open, the once peaceful environment long gone. “We have something to show you.” He groans when the chirps from below reach his ears.

When he pulls away, he’s careful not to let you graze.. him. You only stared in curiosity, wondering why he was plucking himself away from you. Kenji makes a point to only stare at your eyes, and only your eyes despite quite literally using your chest as his pillow not only a few minutes earlier.

“Let’s get changed, okay? Close your eyes so I can get out.”

Kenji shouldn’t be surprised that you didn’t understand what he meant, so he lightly grabbed both your wrists, still pointedly ignoring the curve of your waist, disappearing into the icy bath, and how you were so soft cushioned on his comparatively hard stomach. Honestly… how did he look past all of this earlier?

“Here, cover.” He says, holding your hands over your eyes, the fingers leaving an undeniable gap, which he would close. “Cover tightly.”

When he made sure you weren’t leaving your arms loose, Kenji moved to get up from the tub, his only guiding light is the TV, he scampers for his towel, wrapping it quickly around his waist before turning around to fetch you yours. Only to see that your eyes were already set on him.

“Hey! I said cover!” Kenji exclaims, already feeling his skin growing red from the embarrassment.

“You’re actually a perv, aren’t you?” He asks, but you remain quiet, simply observant of his actions. When he leans down to grab your towel beside the tub, his eyes dart over to his knuckles that were once purple. Now, it was back to his original shade of skin. His brows furrow at this and he immediately moves to touch his once painful temple, cheek, and then arm— until he rotates his dominant shoulder.

The realisation dawns on him as he looks at you, still a little worse for wear, only tilting your head at his gaze.

“No way.” He mutters. Kenji turns on the lights to the room, making you squint and hiss.

“Sorry.” Kenji offers you your towel, wrapping it around your shoulder. “Come on. Up, up.” He pats his arm for you to take.

[...]

When he got downstairs, you in tow, Kenji had a little pep in his step. Briefly forgetting the other reason he came down. You were currently dressed in Kenji’s old Dodgers shirt and one of his old boxers; the only few that would fit you. He thought it would be a nightmare to dress you at first, but you were a quick learner. Kenji only had to show you how he got his own shirt first before you followed suit and things went from there; of course when he had to show you how to put on his old boxers, it was decidedly… too much to show you how he does it firsthand.

So, he opted to put on the rest of his clothes in his walk-in closet away from your tailing figure. Kenji decided that he was lucky that his Dodgers shirt was big on you, enough to cover a good portion of your lower half so that when he instructs you to put your feet on the holes of the only other clothes he had that fit you, he wouldn’t be staring it at the face.

“We’re definitely going to need a trip to the mall.”

When the baby caught sight of you and Kenji together, she chittered, the massive fins on either side of her head lightly twitching as she smiled. Kenji gives you a brief look as you grinned so brightly at the baby, your hand that once held on to Kenji’s arm was now set on the glass container as you met the baby face-to-face.

Kenji smiles. “Mina, I have some good news.”

“Wait, Ken. Baby has a surprise to show you, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. Yes. What was it?”

When the music started playing, the baby started jumping, dancing along. But the foul odour took away the charm of the cute dance. So much so that even you reeled back, a scrunch on your nose.

“Oh, dear God, what is that smell?” Kenji exclaims, covering his nose with his arm.

“Ken, you cannot feed a 20-foot baby a half ton of fish and expect nothing but a giant pile of—” Shit.

Kenji’s gaze flitters to the green goo that the baby repeatedly stomped on in its little happy dance.

“Which brings me to something we need to discuss.” Mina continues. “Until I am able to find Kaiju Island, we’re going to need to raise her.”

The mention of Kaiju Island perked Kenji’s ears, he’d briefly forgotten how much he needed to send the baby back.

“And as for the woman…”

“No, no. We can’t send her back to Kaiju Island, she’s obviously not a monster.” Kenji stops. “But she does know Kaiju Island. She should, shouldn’t she?”

“It is a possibility.”

“Look, so far, she’s not acting wildly. She’s just a little…” Kenji watches as you peruse the shirt you’re wearing, seeing the peeks of scale glistering from your wounded legs. “New to all this. And she learns fast too.”

Your eyes catch on to Kenji’s and he waves at you lightly. You smile, all pearly white, at him.

“Ken, your heart rate seems to spike when you are around her.”

The statement makes Kenji reel back. “What?!”

The floating robot does not respond from her out-of-pocket statement however, opting to float towards you.

When Mina approaches you, you lean back, afraid of the foreign levitating ball. When the supercomputer emits the same cyan light, you run, all the way towards Kenji who huffs when you bump into him in your haste to avoid getting scanned. Your being scared was obvious as you hid behind Kenji’s back; you three were a little far from the baby now, mostly Kenji’s attempt to smell the stench less.

“What if she was a person before all of this, Mina?”

“There are no records or any news at all of cross-contaminating human DNA with kaiju DNA.”

“It would feel wrong to send someone that looks, acts,” not talks yet, but— “You get what I mean.”

“Then, we’ll just have to arrive at a compromise, Ken. Earlier I said that we must raise the baby,”

“Mina, I’ve got a whole season of baseball ahead of me.” Kenji digresses. “I.. I just can’t do it.” He turns around, about to leave and head upstairs.

For Ken, raising a baby was an entirely different responsibility than… teaching someone, he would reason in his brain. He wasn't going to raise you, he just needed to.. investigate.

You turn your head from the baby to Kenji.

“Ken, you brought her home and now she is your responsibility. I have observed that our other guest doesn’t mind helping you with her. In any case, she’s more experienced towards kaiju behaviour. So if you want to keep one of them, you’re keeping both of them.” Mina keeps going, and Ken can only stay quiet as he steps back with every self-effacing statement the robot made.

“They will both die if you don’t take care of them until they are ready to leave. Now, it won’t be easy, but I’ll do everything I can to help.” The bot asserts.

“We’ll have to continue feeding her, washing her, develop a strategy for taking her to potty.” This makes Kenji flinch, looking at the giant pink lizard who was giggling in the similarly giant glass container she was in.

“You’ll have to learn the five S’s.” Kenji trips back a little as he keeps walking backwards, back slowly to the containment unit.

“Swaddle, side, shush, swing, suck.”

The sudden rumble of the surroundings makes Kenji and Mina look back, your tail swashing as you transform into your kaiju form; Kenji’s old shirt and boxers on the ground beside you.

The night ended rather quietly after Kenji finished cleaning up and with you humming a familiar tune to put the baby to sleep. Along with coming into terms that he basically had a kid starting then. Now, Kenji was walking to his room, ready for bed. The guest room was ready for you to sleep in, and even after Kenji pointed the bed there, you kept following him. He grunts.

“No. You sleep there,” He points again, and you dumbly look towards his finger pointing. However, he reels back when he realises you flinched in surprise at his sudden action.

A weird feeling of guilt overtakes him, and he sighs. “Why are you so clingy with me?” He whispers, mostly to himself, really.

As he went on though, he no longer stopped you from following him. Eventually, he was lying on his bed. You stand there, waiting.

“Come on. Lie down.” Kenji pats the space beside him. The change in disposition is so obvious, your glee spreading across the room and wrapping Kenji in unreposed warmth.

You jump on the extremely soft and fluffy mattress, diving beneath the covers like a bean. A bean that eventually found its place on his chest, grinning widely. Your whole body hid beneath the thick duvet, your face the only thing peeking out. The sight made Kenji breathe out a chuckle as his hand lands on your head, lightly patting it.

“Thank you…” Kenji starts, your chin resting on the middle of his chest, eyes fixated on him. “You know, for whatever you did. I feel better.”

You may not have understood him word for word, but the message seemed to have gone through, ending up with you simply humming and smiling up at him, before your cheek replaced your chin as you begin to get comfortable.

For now, Kenji can allow this.

He closes his eyes, unknowingly basking in your warmth and the way your body seemed to melt into his.

Taglist: @moonjellyfishie @mochminnie @lovingyeet @vrxouei @secretyna

#ken sato #ken sato x reader #kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #ultraman #ultraman emi #ultraman ken #ultraman rising

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2snuffseb · 30 days ago

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feed me my own puke and blood and roaches until i throw up again just to laugh in my face and push me into the dirt!!!! keep kicking me while i’m trembling on the ground, i’d lay in a feral position and sob while you threaten to pull my teeth if i don’t cry louder and scream until my vocal cords break!!!!!!!!!!! ^_^

#autoassassinophilia #violence kink #snuffbait #erotophonophilia #abuse k!nk #snuff kink #abuse k1nk #paraphile safe #paraphilia #pro para #emetophilia #emeto #tw emetophobia

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yanderecxre · 7 days ago

Text

yan!toxic ex-lover × reader

minors dni

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ warnings/triggers: toxic masculinity, misogyny, traditional values/views, baby trapping, non-con, threats of abuse, abuse of power, power imbalances, kidnapping, threats of violence, gaslighting, victim blaming, slut shaming, forced relationship, forced feminization and murder

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ summary: Jaxon hated it when you got like this. Crying and cowering as if he was some kind of monster, looking at him in fear as if he'd ever risen a hand to you before. Sure he smacked you around a few times before but that was just because you wouldn't listen and kept trying to go out and get a job, as if Jaxon didn't provide enough for you. It pissed him off, especially now since you had tried breaking up with him last month. That lead to now, with Jaxon standing over you in the bedroom, watching you cry. "C'mon baby.... please stop crying, I had to kill him... he put those dumb thoughts into your head. Stop crying already, or else I'll give you something to really cry over goddammit!"

Jaxon was breathing heavily as he dragged the body out to the backyard, lugging it to the already dug hole and grunting as he kicked it into the dirt. Your pathetic cries from beside him made him pause and he awkwardly looked at the wrapped body. "...he wasn't even all that babe, dude barely even fought back. The guy totally couldn't have protected you even if you were together!" His words did little to help as you just cried harder and Jaxon sighed as if this whole scene was a minor inconvenience.

He gently guided your trembling form back inside and sat you on the couch, wrapping a blanket around both your bodies. Jaxon cradled you in his still bloody form, tightly as if you'd disappear the moment he released you. "Sh, its okay baby... I just had to. I couldn't let him take you away, couldn't let him fill your pretty little head with more fucking lies..."

Your body kept quivering from both horror and fear as he said those crazed words. You felt his hands tightening around your hips and felt the familiar fear claw itself up your throat. Jaxon nudged your chin up, smiling at you sweetly as if he hadn't just murdered your date in cold blood an hour ago. His lips found yours in a sweet kiss that soon turned rough as he ground his hips up against you, fingers digging into your hips as he groaned lowly into the kiss.

"It's alright now, I promise. I forgive you, I forgive you for getting tricked by that awful guy. It wasn't your fault sweetheart. You wouldn't have left otherwise right?" Jaxon muttered obsessively and forced you to look him in the eyes as he repeated himself. His hands roamed across your back and landed on your ass which he immediately squeezed as if on instinct. A wolfish grin on his face at your startled yelp and jolt.

The moment your guard was down, he attacked. His lips found yours in a rough and demanding battle as his hands tugged at your pretty outfit, tearing and ripping it off your body in one yank. You felt the cool air of your house hit your bare skin but had little time to process it as Jaxon immediately got to work. His hands wandering between your thighs, soft and feather light touches that bordered on innocent if it wasn't for the way his grin sharpened whenever you let out involuntary moans.

"Knew you missed me just as much as I missed you. Course ya did, you need a big strong man like me to keep you safe, protect you and provide for you." He muttered lowly as he left bites and bruises on your throat, his free hand kept you pinned to his chest as his other hand groped and played with you. "If you hadn't ran off with him, that poor guy would still be alive you know. It's your fault he's dead."

You shuddered as his hands slipped even farther down, touching you just right and you bit your lower lip to hold back, whimpers and sobs as Jaxon spoke. You couldn't think straight, not with his hand between your thighs as you felt yourself growing closer to your release. Then just as abruptly as he started, Jaxon stopped and his hand stilled, unmoving. You whined quietly, cheeks flushed and chest heaving as you looked up into his eyes.

"Say it. Tell me it's your fault."

His words were blunt and firm as he spoke, a pit formed in your stomach. You knew what he meant and he knew it too. He wanted you to admit it, to admit that your actions took the life of an innocent man. You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him he was wrong.

"Admit it. Say I'm sorry for being a whore and making you kill that man, Jaxon. Say it."

You trembled in his lap, panting as his words swirled in your head, it wasn't your fault... was it? Jaxon had always told you that he'd do anything to keep you with him, maybe it was your fault. For daring to break the heart of the man who clearly loved you deeply. You yelped as Jaxon moved his hand again and started trembling as you spoke, tears running down.

"It's my fault. I'm sorry for being a whore and making you kill him. I'm sorry Jaxon-"

Those words were like music to his ears. Jaxon immediately resumed his actions, forcing you to cum on his fingers with a high keen that left you breathless and slumping against his chest, heaving. He grinned maniacally and wiped his fingers clean on your torn clothes. Holding you close and cuddling you as he murmured soothing noise to help you calm down.

"See how easy it was? I forgive you baby. I know you didn't mean any of it. So this is all the punishment you're getting. Now sleep, you're exhausted."

You hardly heard him as you slowly fell into unconsciousness in his possessive arms, exhausted by the ordeal you'd just gone through. Too exhausted to care as he carried you up to the bedroom. You had no choice but to allow it as his hands washed you up and held you tightly as you both fell asleep together.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ notes: I know I promised Mason content a long time ago but I got busy and uninspired. However I'm back now and certainly inspired!! I hope you guys enjoyed this and as usual likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated. I also enjoy dms or asks!! I'm friendly I promise!! - bunny

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ervotica · 1 month ago

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Okay okay okay so for the celebration, Bellamy with crybaby!reader who maybe gets sick after eating those berries in season 1 and he's just doting on her and being all sweet 🥺🥺

bellamy blake x crybaby!reader ✩ i made him a lil mean n teasing but it’s all in good fun

Bellamy scrapes his palms over your temples, slicking back the flyaway hairs that curl over your ears as you flit your head from side to side, eyes wide and glossy. He may not be able to see the hallucinations that plague your mind, but your frantic expression is enough to have him crouching next to you, dragging his hands over your skin as you sniffle and cry in that warbling voice.

“Baby,” he murmurs. “Slow down.”

Your hands tremble as you hiccup and rock on the balls of your feet, digging soft fingertips into the earth beneath you.

“Can’t-” you gasp. “Too much.”

Bellamy’s brow creases with a frown, and he hooks his hands under your armpits to drag you upward, his chest pressed to yours.

“Easy,” he coos. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

You hiccup, ducking your head. He follows your watery gaze diligently, petting the top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you warble, pursing your lips around a sob. “I’m sorry.”

Your pupils are blown wide, no doubt another effect of the jobi nuts, your body almost bursting at the seams with untethered energy.

“Baby.” Bellamy tries not to laugh, he really does, but the way you’re surveying him like he’s grown two heads is a little funny.

You purl sadly; your idea of a scolding, though far too soft.

“Don’t laugh, Bell,” you cry, moonlit tears making headway down your cheeks. He tuts, gathering the wetness at the corners of your eyes to brush them away.

“I’m not,” he huffs, though the tilt of his lips gives him away. You tip back into the dirt with a thud, palms out behind you as you stare up at the star dotted sky.

“Y’are,” you mewl.

He sighs, tilting his head to watch you. “Stop being a baby.”

That really sets you off. You sniff, rubbing at your eyes as though you can plug the steady flow of tears. “You’re so mean!”

Hooking his arm under your knees, he drapes you over his lap, your expression rather akin to a kicked puppy. “I’m sorry,” he snorts, chest shaking with a laugh. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Hate you,” you sniffle. He pouts, leaning down to smear a kiss over your jaw.

“I love you too, my baby,” he murmurs, voice rough and grating against your skin. You lean into him involuntarily.

“Don’t feel good,” you grouse, going soft and pliable in his lap. Your head bumps against his chest with a thud.

“I know.” He smooths his hand over your head again, snickering as you go limp at the touch. “You wanna lay down?”

“No,” you whine.

“Yes, you do,” he corrects. “C’mon.”

“Bell.”

He mimics your warbling cadence beat for beat, bending at the waist to murmur soft apologies against your cheek. You lean into him, clutching the hem of his t-shirt as though his touch might make your vision stop spinning.

Camp is full of delinquents in similar situations to your own, many lying in the dirt next to you, a few stumbling in pursuit of the visions that pervade their senses. You sniff sadly.

Bellamy gathers you up and squeezes you tightly, lips pressed firmly over your temple. “It’ll pass soon.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, baby. Promise,” he mumbles, breath hot against your face.

“Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs. “Love you too, brat.”

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hxrnyhunter · 7 months ago

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What would you do to a needy pup who needs a big Wolf to knot him and breed him like a bitch but denies it and bites and tries to get away and- 🥵

I’d let you run Pup. Try to get away. Your clothes are torn from where I started ripping them off of you, and every branch cuts more at you as I chase you through the woods. I can smell how wet your boycunt is, even if you’re screaming that I can’t touch you.

Finally when you think you’re safe, I’ll come up behind you, pinning you to the ground. I’ll finish ripping off your clothes, forcing you to present your leaking boycunt for me with your face pressed into the dirt.

“Why are you fighting it when you want it so badly, Pup?” I’d tease you as I tugged on your tail.

Pushing your legs apart more, I’d watch your t-dick throb and your boycunt pulse before pushing inside of you.

“What a good bitch. This is what you needed, isn’t it? You wanted your Alpha to rape pups into your needy womb. You just didn’t want to seem easy. That’s fine Pup. I’ll make sure you’re stuffed with my cum and pups.”

It won’t matter what you say, or how hard you bite or kick me. I’m bigger and stronger than you, especially shifted. My claws will easily hold down your body, and my long tongue will trail up your back, my sharp teeth nipping and biting at your neck when I get there as my cock slams into your cunt. My knot pushing against your entrance each time.

Even better if you start crying and begging me just not to knot you because it’s too big. You’re just a little Pup. You’re not meant for Alpha knots. As you’re crying and begging for mercy, even as your boycunt eagerly swallows my cock, I’d force my knot inside of you.

Only after I’ve dumped load after load into you to the point even around my knot the cum is leaking out, would I then roll you over. You’d be covered in dirt by that point, your eyes crossed from being so cock drunk. As my knot kept you filled and stretched, I’d start playing with your t-duck, forcing you to cum over and over again on my knot. Seeing you start to sob again as you clench down around me, making you feel fuller and like you’re going to be ripped in half.

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rae-writes · 2 years ago

Text

reality’s nightmare

om brothers x reader

wc : 4k (holy fuck, I did not mean to do this much-)

warnings : gore!! blood, broken bones, mangled body parts, heavy injury detail, talks of intestines/organs, there’s some fucked up imagery in this one y’all

synopsis : they say angels look beautiful when they fall, but no one talks about after they hit the ground

a/n : look, I love the scene where they’re standing before Diavolo, and it’s been mentioned that they were hurt— buuut what if we saw them bruised and broken and bleeding

…thud…

…TH-UD…

crACK-

CRACK—

C R A C K…

Bloodcurdling screams filled the house of Lamentation, instantly waking the other seven inhabitants. The screams turned into sobs as many pairs of feet slammed against the hard floor.

Rather unceremoniously, your door was nearly knocked off its hinges as each of your demons burst in the room, huddling around your bed; you were frantically kicking at the covers and hiding your face behind trembling arms.

“Mc!”

His hand reached out to caress your form gently, startling you and causing you to cry even harder as you reached out for him.

†

Lucifer holds your face in his palms like you’re made of glass, lithe fingers attempting to wipe your scalding tears in vain. He’s at a complete loss as he watches you shake like a leaf in his grasp; you were terrified, more than he’d ever seen in all his time of knowing you.

When the first born finally managed to catch your gaze, he could physically feel his heart stop. “Mc…”

Pale as a ghost and face soaked with tears, you stared at Lucifer as if you never thought you’d see him again after bidding goodnight just three hours ago. “L-Luci-”

The surrounding area was dark- eerie - though thankfully, you could clearly tell you were at the Colosseum. You took only a single step forward before something slammed into the ground with a sick crack, just a couple feet away.

Wings so black they blended into the dark atmosphere were bent wickedly, feathers astray and torn out while a few bones stuck in odd directions, having pierced straight through the flesh. Two gashes on the lowest part of its back oozed blood like a river, quickly forming a puddle underneath the body. The torso itself was turned in a position that was just wrong- no matter what being in the three realms it was.

With a hand over your mouth to try and ease the bile rising in your throat, you could feel the unnatural warmth of its blood washing over the soles of your bare feet. In an attempt to scurry backwards, you slipped, bracing your arms against the dirt before your face could be washed in it.

And only then, when you finally came within face-to-face proximity of him, did you realize who it was.

Lucifer stared back at you, brows furrowed in pain and lips- blood dribbling past- curled into a grimace.

You broke into a fresh round of sobs- the broken and hoarse kind that made your chest throb- and pulled your boyfriend closer. Your movement was so rushed and unexpected, Lucifer toppled over right on top of you.

His arms caught him, but he was essentially unable to push himself up as your hands had come around his back, fingertips pressing almost harshly into the skin where his wings would normally be. “My love?”

“Show me.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand-”

“Show me your wings!” words desperate and eyes frantic, you were truly starting to make him panic, “Please…” your fingers grasped the shiny feathers hesitantly; you thought they’d break or tear— Lucifer could tell.

He was confused and worried and honestly, his hands were beginning to shakily ball up your cover as he listened to you whisper in relief about how ‘they’re not broken…’

“I’m alright, Mc, I promise. My wings are alright. You’re alright.” Just what did you dream of to make you like…this? To say something like that?

You kept one hand in the middle of his four wings and the other at the base of his back where the other pair have been long since ripped out. “Can we stay like this?”

“For as long as you need.”

†

Upon seeing your frightened state, Mammon was frantic himself, hands grasping at your waist to pull you against him instead of the wall, “It’s me, Mc! It’s me, baby, it’s me!” He lets your hands grip his forearms as tight as you need, not paying much attention to the pressure in favor of trying to keep eye contact.

“Mam..mon?” the disbelief you seemed to be in sent his heart clenching, especially when you ran your palms along his bare skin, moving up and up until you were under his sleeves, grasping at his shoulders, “Mammon!”

The pained yelp that echoed in the air made you jump, head whipping around to find the source through the darkness. Calling out in vain, your feet took you in a random direction before you tripped. With hands stretching out to feel around, you felt a trembling form that didn’t quite seem…right.

What looked like they could’ve been arms at some point in time were crushed, bleeding, mangled limbs. Almost every bone was on the outside, tearing through its skin like paper. Elbows inverted, wrists twisted forward and back, fingers snapped in every other direction. Even some of its fingernails were ripped or cracked. Shoulder blades so out of place, it was hard to tell what they were supposed to be. Collar bones not where they were meant to be— one was completely shattered and it showed through the skin. Almost the entire upper portion of the chest was barely recognizable.

His face was, though. His gorgeous face, head dripping with blood and staining the ends of his snowy hair, features pulled into a heart-wrenching grimace.

“Mammon…” your hands squeezed and prodded every part of his arms, starting at the shoulders you'd dug crescent moons into- not missing his collar bones that were peeking from his sleep shirt.

He watched you examine him, pulling you closer every time you choked back a sob. “‘S me, baby, whatsa matter? You’re making your pretty eyes all swollen…”

“Hold me— just hold me. Need t’feel your arms around me…”

Ignoring the mumbled ‘in one piece’, Mammon wrapped his arms around you tightly without another word. He’ll chase away…whatever it was that scared you. He won’t leave.

“I won’t leave. Promise. ‘M right here.”

†

Oh, Levi’s eyes began watering as soon as he heard your sobbing, bursting out into tears right alongside you when he finally saw your scared form. Lacking his usual shyness, his hands curl around yours and uncover your face like you’d normally do to him.

“Mc…m-my Henry…” he didn’t know what to do or say but he knew that the way you peered up at him- like you’d seen a ghost- makes him want to curl up and die.

From the moment you heard the first shrill cry, you knew undoubtedly that it was your Levi. Without questions, you scrambled to your feet and took off sprinting despite being unable to see much, shouting his name with urgency.

Stopping to catch your breath, you froze when fingers wrapped around your ankle, turning to look at what’d grabbed you. A scream left your throat at the sight.

Crushed legs were dragging against the dirt, oozing blood and being speared with what looked like every leg bone there was. The left leg was bent out of place at the hip with the knee inverted while the right foot was twisted completely backwards, femur snapped and sticking out of the thigh. Flesh had torn where the bones caught on the ground— wide gashes that were as long as your forearm. It was horrifying.

Even more horrifying when your sweet boyfriend had blood pouring out of his mouth as he sobbed, still dragging his mangled body along, begging for help.

Levi flinched when you began pushing him back, mouth opening to spew out apologies when they were cut short as he watched you settle between his legs, arms hooking under his thighs to pull them even tighter against you.

You nuzzled your head against one of his knees, “Don’t go anywhere, Leviathan…stay- stay with me, don’t leave.” Your fingers dug into his sweatpants absentmindedly.

Levi was completely floored with how much terror filled your voice and he found himself wrapping his tail around your midsection to try and assure you that, “I’m never leaving. Y-you can’t get r-rid of me, now!”

…just what happened to you exactly? And did he really want to find out, given how genuinely terrified it made you— the bravest person he knows. Levi didn’t know just yet, but he did know that he’d stay with you for as long as you wanted him to.

†

Satan clutches both your ankles softly to keep you from hurting yourself, kissing at your calves when you stop thrashing. He’d never seen you in such a state and if he hadn’t trained himself over the centuries, he would’ve gone into a rage to find out who or what did this to you.

“I’m here, darling, try to calm down now. Shhh, love, listen to my heartbeat- here.” The way you clutched at him like he’d disappear…

“Tannie?”

You could barely see three feet in front of your face, shown by the way you stumbled and tripped your way through the dark. A loud, horrifying sound reaches your ears at the same time a liquid splashes across your face. It’s warm- running down your face disgustingly, but the sight in front of you…

Something had been impaled on a spiked rock; the jagged tip was coated in a dark substance— the same substance that nearly formed an ocean underneath the figure. It was pouring from the giant hole now in their chest area and the position had the rest of their body curved backwards. Not wanting to talk about the similar dark shapes you saw strewed about- knowing very well they were probably organs and intestines- you grip its twitching fingers cautiously, following the stream of blood down, down, down…until it reaches its face. His face. Satan’s face. His eyes are popped wide, clearly numb to the severe pain he should’ve been feeling.

Choking back a scream, you cradle the back of his head, lifting it up so he can swallow better as he finally begins to thrash and scream. Begs to stop go unheard and you’re forced to listen to the vile sounds of his chest ripping and tearing and blood gushing, screaming yourself when it soaks the entire lower half of your body.

“Yeah, it’s Tannie.” He doesn’t mention the grip you have on his shirt, nor does he say anything about the way you push yourself harder against his left side.

You tap your finger along to the beat of his heart- the rhythm is strong and steady. Alive. “Satan…”

He watches you smooth your hand over his chest, “Yes, love?” Frowning, he wipes at the corner of your eyes, not wanting you to cry anymore.

You say nothing at first, instead choosing to curl up closer. There’s an edge to the air before you give a nearly inaudible, “Don’t leave.”

Satan relaxes, if only for your comfort. “Never.” He needs to know what caused you so much torment— for now, though, he will be with you for as long as you need.

†

Asmo chooses to scramble around gathering water, a warm washcloth, and spritzing a light soothing scent on his clothes before he’s clamoring in your bed. He gingerly wipes down your face, whispering about swollen eyes and how much salt is in tears; he’s just trying his best to divert your attention.

But you’re still hysterical, eyes unable to stop shedding tears even as he’s wiping them away. Your hands snake up his jaw, pressing down and smoothing across the skin until your breath stutters and you simply can’t let out audible cries anymore.

Running around in the dark wasn’t such a good idea, especially now that you’re sprawled on the ground with your head throbbing from how hard you hit it. The lumpy dirt is uncomfortably irritating, but before you can move, you hear shrill crying as something comes slamming into the ground a couple feet beside you.

Nearly inaudible whimpers left it as it just laid there, body and wings twitching sporadically. Slowly, with sick cracking sounds following, it’s head turned to the side- facing right at you. His jaw was hanging, knocked out of place, and visibly broken. Teeth were fractured or missing entirely, mouth ripped one one side and lips punctured with holes from his teeth...his tongue was hanging by only a couple of muscles, nearly severed from the force of the fall— he must’ve bit it as he was screaming. There was blood pouring onto the ground underneath him, coating what was left of his lower face and splashed into his eyes, all the way up to his forehead.

You couldn’t even scream as you watched Asmo’s body convulse with choked sounds, eyes refusing to close even as an acidic taste started to make its way up your throat before you were forced to lift your upper body and retch out the contents of your stomach.

Shakily, almost like you were scared he’d fall apart, you place a kiss to his cheekbone, trailing down his jaw until you reach the corner of his mouth. “Azzy..I love you.”

You were now officially scaring Asmo, but he kept his cool nonetheless. “I love you more, hun! How about we go take a relaxing bath before trying to sleep again? Sounds good, hm?”

Briefly, your fingers pressed down harder where you were caressing his jaw before letting up. “Mhm.” You wrapped your arms around his neck like a child, not wanting him to go too far. “Sleep with you.”

“Yeah, you can sleep with me. My sheets will be good for your skin!” While his words were chipper, there wasn’t a single trace of a smile on his face; why was this happening to you? What happened to you?…what did you see?

“I love you, Mc. You don’t have to worry about anything else.”

†

Even though he knows everyone is worried, Beel shoves to the front with the sole intention of protecting you. You’ve curled yourself into a ball, but he just lifts you into his arms and pulls you in close.

At the familiar warmth of your boyfriend, your eyes snap up to see his worried smile and the only thing you can manage to do is rest your forehead against his with a choked cry of his name.

Your knees were scraped and bleeding from all the times you’ve tripped in the dark, so you were walking slowly, inching forward until your foot came in contact with something soft. Crouching down, you squinted at the orange color and rubbed the soft tufts between your fingers before your eyes finally adjusted.

It was Beel. He was curled on his right side, peeks of bone showing from where he landed. His eyes were swimming with blood, upper face drenched with it from where it streamed out of his head- he’d cracked his skull straight across his forehead. His neck was bent in an odd direction- probably twisted before hitting the ground- and more blood bubbled out of his mouth the longer he thrashed his head and tried to speak.

When he reached a trembling hand out, you finally took notice of Belphie lying beside him; the sob that ripped from your throat was guttural when the younger started crying out in Beel’s stead.

“I’m here, Mc. It’s okay now, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You didn’t have the heart or the bearings to tell him that you were afraid of something happening to him again, instead choosing to just bury your face in his neck and sob harder. The cries only increased in pitch when you felt him move, “Don’t go! Don’t leave me, stay, don’t leave me, please…”

He’d only shifted to scoot further back, but his heart was absolutely breaking at the state of you. “Always, Mc.” Laying down, he tucked you into his right side, frowning at the thought of something causing you this much anguish. “I’ll stay with you always…I might have to carry you with me to the kitchen later tonight, though…sorry.”

†

When he finally manages to shove everyone out of the way, Belphie caresses your cheeks, dipping his fingers into the flesh softly as he forces you to look at him. “Look at me. No, no, at me.”

Your brows are furrowed, breaths coming out quick and short, “Bel…” you cradled his face even softer than he was yours, “My Belphegor…”

The sharp pebbles and uneven ground irritated your palms and knees as you crawled, trying to make your way around in the dark with little injury. You staggered when your hand slipped in something warm, flailing before bumping into what the warmth was coming from. You’d slipped in blood.

It was a trembling, bleeding lump on the ground, curled into a half fetal position on its left side. The arm that it landed on was completely bent backwards at the shoulder, fingers twitching with the pain they must’ve been feeling. A few rib bones punctured the abdomen, causing a tearing sound when they moved too much. There’s a large crack on the left side of the skull, which is where most of the blood is pouring from; through the streaked blood, where he’d probably tried to rub it away, you could see Belphie’s face. Tears had washed the blood from his eyes into his mouth where he kept having to spit it out onto the dirt in order to keep crying out for help.

With a start, you easily recognized what- or who- he was clutching onto desperately to be Beel. The way they were curled around one another…your tears mixed with the blood pooling into the dirt, hands making their way through the disgusting mud puddle it created to grab at his injured hand.

“Your Belphegor, ‘m your belphie-” he dragged you in closer, tucking you securely against his left side, “Wanna tell your Bel what’s the matter? Nightmare?”

Pushing the nauseous feeling down- and the distinct feeling that you knew it wasn’t a nightmare, that it was real- you shook your head in denial. It was such a poor lie that you couldn’t help but wince into his shoulder, but he didn't say anything.

He just pulled you in tighter and tighter until your breaths were practically his. “Told you to sleep with me. Nothing stands a chance against the avatar of sloth in this department.” Belphie relaxed when his rambling made you laugh, “Not gonna let anything haunt you like this again.”

It was real, it was real, it was real. “Okay…I love you, Bel.”

Lucifer fell backwards out of the heavens; the first to fall and the first to hit the ground (he watched his brothers fall with him— heard the vile sounds of each one of them hitting hell's earth). Though various emotions clouded his mind, he still had the wit intact to try and maneuver himself before crashing, though that made it much worse. Half twisted before his landing, his torso remained twisted, ribs shattered and internal organs pierced with bone. His back, despite his best efforts, is what had the most contact with the ground- broken at every vertebrae. Feathery wings now black fluttered uselessly against his will, shocked with the pain of having been torched, torn, broken, and pierced by their own bones. Lucifer had always been the one that hid his pain best out of the six, so he grits his teeth and twists his torso back into place and gets up because he needs to get to his family.

In an attempt to reach out for his brother, Mammon fell through the clouds with his arms stretched out, eyes never straying from the view in front of him, not even when Lucifer’s body hit the ground and he knew he was about to be next. He caught himself, or tried to, instantly snapping his wrists and sending a domino effect throughout his arms; each bone and joint cracking, shooting sharp pains straight to his head. Even his shoulders had been knocked horrendously out of place, so the only way he managed to get upright was the frantic flapping of his wings. Broken, kneeling on shaking legs, the sight of his mutilated arms made his stomach churn and bile rise. The acidic feeling has him retching miserably, yet even so, he spits out as much of the taste as he can and stands, hellbent on finding his family even if his arms are useless.

With his throat closing up from panic at having the ground beneath him crumble and break, Levi falls through feet first, head lifted to watch the heavens grow farther and farther, arms scrambling in vain to grab at something. In this frantic state, he never saw the end of his fall coming- he only felt the white hot pain cracking through his lower limbs- heard his bones shattering and snapping apart. His hands are clutching at dirt, choke sobs wrecking through his frame because he can’t feel his legs anymore. His brain is only registering the throb of pierced skin, veins, and arteries. The drag against the ground makes the pain worse, but he can’t find it in his hysterical self to stop pulling his body along, arms shaking under the strain as he attempts to seek out one of his brothers for help.

Opposite of his…’creator’, Satan fell backwards amongst the clouds, head tilted towards the ground as it got closer and closer. His eyes closed in anticipation of the impact, expecting his skull to get crushed, but they quickly shot open at the gutting sensation in his abdomen. Blonde hair tickled the rocks beneath him, head still lolled backwards with no energy to lift it, making the blood dripping from his mouth stream into his eyes. He’d been impaled on a spiked boulder, sending a numbing tingle throughout his entire body; the only moving parts of him were the shocked blinking of his eyes, bobbing of his adam’s apple as he tried to swallow his own blood, and the occasional twitch of his fingertips. Once the numbness made its way to his throat, he began to panic, blindly moving his sluggish limbs in an attempt to get free. The struggle irritated his wound, making more and more blood gush until there was a whole ocean of it underneath him- at some point, he lost the ability to move at all, and the only thing he could do was let out curdling screams until someone found him.

Asmo fell in a daze, not really processing the situation until he saw ink black washing over his ivory wings. He suddenly screamed, hands rubbing over the shedding feathers like somehow he could stop them from blowing away with the wind. Watching all the feathers burned down into four smooth, leathery wings, he was completely hysterical as the reality of the situation sunk in. When he couldn’t bear to look at what he was becoming anymore, he cast his teary eyes in front of him, breath getting stolen from his throat when his jaw met the ground, shattering instantly upon impact. The rest of his body hurdled against the dirt and he just laid there, too shocked with pain to even really feel it. The tang of copper crawled up his throat, spilling out of his mouth, but the only thing he could do was let out choked whimpers, hoping someone could hear.

As his throat constricted until he could barely breathe, heart thumping sporadically after ‘letting’ his sister be shot, Beel fell clutching his twin against his chest. He promised he wouldn’t let go, but the momentum made him lose his grip anyway, sending Beel further into panic. He never got the chance to wonder about the end of their fall- he was too busy trying to reach his brother again- but he felt it. The shock of pain blooming where he landed on his right side, the feeling of organs being pierced by bone. He desperately wanted to lift his head to see if the other was still beside him, but his eyes were covered with blood from his cracked skull. He whimpers out his twin’s name, flinching when someone grabs his ankle before frantically reaching out with his left arm to grab onto Belphegor’s ankle— he wanted to shout out, but he couldn’t find the energy to speak. Instead he had to listen to Belphie cry out for someone to save them.

Belphie fell screaming, hands grasping onto his twin with frantic desperation after having watched his sister get shot with an arrow. The wind blowing past them was grating against his ears, further panicking him when his grip began slipping the faster gravity dragged them down. As soon as they broke apart, they were scrambling to reach each other again, and he didn’t notice the sight of the ground coming closer until they crashed into it. He fell on his left side, arm and leg getting crushed under the shocking weight, ribs cracking, and head knocking against the dirt so hard it made his vision blur and skull break open. In this position, he was facing Beelzebub’s feet, like they were Yin and Yang. He uses his right arm to reach out for his twin again, gripping onto his uninjured leg tightly, voice coming out cracked as he assured his brother it’d be okay before crying out for one of the others to please come save them.

#obey me x reader #om x reader #lucifer x reader #om lucifer #mammon x reader #om mammon #leviathan x reader #om levi #satan x reader #om satan #asmodeus x reader #asmo x reader #om asmodeus #beelzebub x reader #beel x reader #om beel #belphegor x reader #belphie x reader #om belphegor

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lady-ashfade · 1 year ago

Text

Day 4 Of Fictober

Vampire Au

Yandere!VampPrince!Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Human!Reader, X Platonic!Yandere!Vamp!Queen!Rhaenrya Targaryen

Ask: can I request yan vampire Jace? And platonic Yan Rhaenyra.

Hope you like it, my little darlings. I worked really hard on this.

Warnings: Kidnapping, ropes!being tied up, Collars, Blood, Blood drinking, Yandere tendencies, Controlling behavior, slight!primal chase, Over all some dark themes, and vamps having lightning speed.

The rough ground made your feet ache as you raced through the woods without shoes on your feet. Mud stuck to the ends of your feet and the rocks hurt to step on but you had no choice but to. There was no path, no grass patches to step on that weren’t covered in sticks and other small things. It seemed as even the trees were against you every turn you took with another one making you almost crash into it. Panting you tried to keep the ends of your dress from getting caught on anything else so it wouldn’t slow you down.

The blue dress you had on has tares and dirt all over it. It was ruined. Steaming from your eyes and down to your cheeks were tears of fear, of death and the thing chasing you. The night was always scary for you since childhood with stories of monsters that only come out in the dark. Growing up you forgot all about those stories and feared your own kind or the silence that came along with the stars. Now you wished to be back at home and afraid of nothing.

Focus. You had to just focus on getting away and safely out of the woods to find someone to help. Screaming you called for help for anyone to hear you, hoping at least one person would.

“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen dear,” your legs hit something and your body came chasing down on the ground and your body ached at the pressure. A sinking feeling made your stomach made you feel like puking out your insides. From the ground you looked up to the man you had been running from. Red eyes stared down at you, they stood out in the darkness from their glow.

“Please- Let me go, I’ll never come back.” Sobbing you back up with your legs kicking and arms crawling backwards. The beast only titled his head and watches you closely as you plead for your little life.

“But that’s not what I want,” the bark of the tree hits your back and makes you itchy. He could hear your breath so loudly as your chest raises up and down at a rapid pace. Your eyes full of terror, your body tensed up at the fear of death, and the smell of sweet blood coming from your veins. Pushing out of his gums his fangs emerged.

“You’ll stay here forever, with me- With our family. I never expected you to be a human but, I’ll take anything.” As he inches closer you tried to get away from him, to run free. But you had no chance and his speed bet you to it and pinned you against the tree with force. His hands squeezed your wrists and you already felt them bruise.

“Silly little human, running from a prince?” His head lowered to your neck and you tried to fight it but he wasn’t moving. “I can- I will give you everything you deserve. Just sit still and this will be over soon” his lips kissed his favorite area on your neck to prepare you for what he was about to do.

You whined and struggled against his hold and cried you heart out. “Please.” You sob but he only smirked at your small voice. He knew humans were weak and fragile but you were so much different then all the humans he’s killed. So much sweeter, so much prettier and warm. Maybe that’s why you two were destined to be together because he could protective you from everyone else.

His eyes flashed before black started to cover the glow, his mouth opened with a wicked smile.

“It’ll be only a bite,” your neck was pushed to the side and taken into a tight grip as you whimpered. “Goodnight, my darling.” He spoke before a sharp pain in your neck made you cry in pain. You could feel the blood leaving your veins and you started to get lightheaded after a few seconds of him sucking aggressively. Then your mind started to shut down and your eyes closed slowly, your body giving up and you passed out.

It felt so cold.

A stone floor against your legs and feet made you toss awake from your sleep. The moment you were awake you could feel the aching feeling in your head and your body feeling too tired to move. Moaning you open your eyes and blink at the lit up room with nothing around you, it looked like a cell. You tired to call out for help but your voice gave out and felt raspy. A knock at the door made you jump out of your skin and move back.

“Stop screaming.” A male voice that was deep called from the other side. The sound of the lock being fiddled with made you looked around the room once more to see if you could find anything. So you cling your fists together in fear.

When the door opened two men with the dark eyes and a guard like outfit that matched each others stepped into view. In fear you push yourself back, “Queen says not to hurt you, so don’t be afraid.” The taller one smiled and the other took out rope from his belt. No matter how much you plead you couldn’t get out of their inhuman grip and hold.

The rope on your hands scratched your wrists as they pull you out of the cell and into the hallways. After a while you realize it was a castle you were in and a beautiful one at that, but it was much darker then anything you’d been in. Everything was red or black and the paintings creeped you out.

As soon as you came to a stop your throat began to close and your stomach became sick. When the doors opened you took a glance in the room that opened. A large room with pillars, a red carpet leaning up and the most important part. A Throne. Sat on top of the throne was a beautiful woman with pale skin and with the whites hair you’ve ever seen. You knew those eyes.

Just like his.

“Bring her forward.” Her voice echoed off the walls and the men obliged and tugged you forward. You couldn’t move at all as her eyes had broken you. The woman watched as they tugged you against and you pulled against their hold and tried to get away. A poor little thing you were. You looked so scared and hurt, even if you were so weak from having your blood drained.

“Pull her again and I’ll have you beheaded.” You all stoped and look at the woman on the throne. They had mentioned a “Queen” earlier and her place… it was her. “Now, little one. Walk to me.” She waves you over but her voice deepens at the command. Looking at the two guards you pull your rope away from them and take liberty to do it on you own. So you walked to her and stop a few feet away from her. You looked at the ground and to afraid to meet her eyes.

“I apologize for my sons actions…He’s never smelled your blood before, but I can promise you now he’ll be well behaved.” Stepping back as you saw her shadows stand up off her set. She sighed and walked down with her dress in her hands.

“You’re very beautiful, a fine mate for my son. A queen to replace me one day.” Your looked at her and your cheek was instantly cupped. You didn’t even see her move to you until you looked up. She could hear your heartbeat speed up and your veins pulse. It made her smile.

“He will never hurt you again. Just needed to claim you is all he did.” She rubbed your skin sweetly and you felt like mush. “Sorry for keeping you in a cell, I’m having everything prepared for you.” Her hands came down to rip the ropes off of you so hard they snapped.

“You’ll learn to love it here, with us.” Gasping your neck was grabbed ever so lightly and something cold pressed against the skin. You heard metal hit each other and a snap at the back of your neck. Your throat felt almost suffocated at the new feeling, “What-” you tried to speak but she hushed you by putting her finger on your lips, her nails so sharp.

“Silver suits you well, and red gems are beautiful as well.” You moved up to touch the thing around your neck in a panic. She watched your eyes tear up and heavy breaths leave your lips. “Don’t look so sad.” She looked over at the servants in the corner. “Get her something to eat.” And they ran off quickly.

You tried to run it all over in your head and it was too overwhelming that you couldn’t breath. You started to cry and grab onto the air and your chest for relief.

“What have you done?”

His voice made you turn and you fell to your knees, he was quick to be at your side within less then a second to catch you. “Go- Let me go.” He could barely understand your breathless words but he could guess them by the way you tried to break free.

“Awe, don’t cry. My human is too pretty to cry,” his fingers wiped away your tears and you closed your eyes not to get them scraped by his nails. He only smiled and pushes you into his chest. “You can get used to it, I’ll get you everything you want…” he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re mine now.”

#jacaerys velaryon #yandere rhaenrya targaryen x reader #yandere jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #rhaenrya targaryen x reader #yandere house targaryen x reader #yandere house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #yandere jacaerys valaryon #yandere rhaenyra targaryen x reader #yandere rhaenrya targaryen #fictober #fictober 2023

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