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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 1 year ago

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Decode

From Control - Full Story in Progress on AO3!

Ghost x Shadow!Reader x Soap

Your mission takes a turn for the worst after getting shot down from the sky. Now being injured, low on ammo, and completely surrounded by hostiles, you're only hope is for the Task Force to reach you in time before it was too late.

WC: 4k ~

Action, Angst, Thriller, Suspense, Tense, Graphic Violence, Dark, Mentions of Death, Slight Unrequited Feelings, Slow Burn, Romance, Love Triangle, Longing, Drama, Canon-Compliant, Mentions of Blood

Happy 4th! 🦅🇺🇸

CoD Masterlist

Control Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Two ~ Decode

There's a reason Ghost liked to keep everyone at a distance, and why he's told himself countless times not to give in to his urges and care too much.

It hadn't been out of fear of being close or even vulnerable towards another, nor did he keep his distance out of the coldness of his own demeanor.

At the end of the day, it had only ever been about one thing and one thing only: Control.

To know one's self and to keep things in check is what matters most, both in peace and combat. After all, it's the actions of those who know no bounds to their own greed and power that have left the world in such a way as is; it's one of the very reasons it's brought everyone here tonight.

All of Simon's life has he seen the dangers which came from men unwilling to keep themselves in check; his own father showed him as much before he'd yet to hit puberty.

"I'm takin' the boy out and teachin' 'em how t'live like a real man," he'd say. A real man.

It's selfish, evil men who relish in the barbarity of their own nature. And Ghost only knew that he did not want to be anything like that. He feared those parts of him he's inherited, whether he could say so out loud or not. And he had feared them so much that he'd been willing to sacrifice everything else in his life to keep them buried.

Keeping control meant everything to him. For a long time, it was the only thing he cared about. The only thing that mattered. The only thing he had left.

Had things been his way, it'd stay that way. And yet it had been one thing to look up to the sky and see you be shot down, bringing an ice cold chill through the man's body as though he'd just been thrown into the artic in just his undergarments, but to then know that Johnny stood beside him in absolute shock, his eyes wide, gun frozen in hand, mouth agape with horror... In complete and utter despair. A sight the lieutenant has never seen of his Sergeant before.

An old and familiar madness stirred in Ghost once more, one he'd thought had been dead and buried long ago. It made his blood boil and his jaw tight beneath his mask.

His gaze hasn't left the spot that you've crashed since watching the entire thing conspire -- simply processing everything through the hazy green of his night vision goggles. Breathing. Blinking. Hoping that if his eyes opened once more that what he'd seen had only been a trick of the mind.

Yet his eyes keep opening, and your helo still sits in the distance. Burning.

Ghost does the first natural thing that comes to mind and reaches for his comms. "Alpha, what's your status?!"

Silence. No response from anyone in Alpha, nothing beyond their coughs in between static and gunfire.

No sound from you either.

Ghost shuffles about anxiously in his stance, tuning out the worried chatter of the others around him, and feeling the pit of his stomach sink to new depths he hadn't known yet existed in him.

Had he lost you so soon, he wondered.

The lieutenant goes for his comms again, doing everything in his power to keep his composure and stay focused on the task at hand.

"Alpha, how copy..?"

A voice finally picks up on the comms, and Ghost swears it hits him like a shot of adrenaline.

"Bravo- Alpha is immobile. Multiple critical!" One of the soldiers relays through the comms.

Ghost attempts to take a moment to digest this information -- Multiple critical, but that hadn't meant everyone had been lost. Though fate seemed adamant on making that a reality, as the sounds of gunfire start to erupt in the distance.

The comms cut back in. "Oh, shit-! We're taking effective fire!"

In a matter of seconds, the building the helo had crashed near continued firing on them, bullets and shouting picking up through the comms.

With Alpha down, that left Building Three compromised, further complicating the mission. Ghost knows what needs to be done here. He radios in, "Alpha, we're moving to building one. Hold tight!"

Alpha Team has to wait while they secure Buildings One and Two, as the mission states. While Ghost is aware that the others would rather jump straight into the fire for their comrades (he shares the sentiment), he knows that it won't do anyone any good if they're all taken out in a single emotionally driven move. it's too high of a risk to go and help them now, and Ghost knows this.

Yet, he remains still, knelt beside his team in the tall grass, as the darkness surrounded him in more ways than one.

Had you still been alive? How could this have happened? Why did this happen?

His mind buzzed with these pains within him, intertwining with each and every other thought. No matter how much he tried to shake it, they ate him alive. And after each one, the same thought concluded them.

This is why, he thought. This. Is. Why.

This is why he wanted you to stay away from him. Why he hadn't wanted to get to know you, and for you to know him. Because suddenly, the thought of losing you tonight had felt unbearable.

"Ghost." It takes hearing Soap's voice, riddled with impatient desperation, for his mind to be made up about the situation. "We need to secure that crash site, now."

For Soap, it hadn't even been a question of what needed to be done here. He wouldn't believe you were gone until he saw for himself, and until that day comes, you've now become the only job that matters to him.

"First, we clear for Hassan," Ghost commands. "That takes the heat off Alpha. Then, we secure the crash site. Clear?"

Soap nods. "Roger that."

"Let's move."

The team moves forward in unison down the hill, using the dark and tall grass to their advantage. Each step made closer to Building One -- approaching the erupting gunfire and explosive blasts -- Ghost felt another part of himself be done away. Parts of himself that were once calm and feared only for himself and the mission's status.

Before long, your helo feels within arm's reach, blocked off by obstacles needing to be tended to. Fear becomes action, only to be fueled by the impending rage he kept within himself.

Ghost would not lose himself tonight, he told himself again and again, don't lose yourself.

He would not lose you either.

It's the smell of burning flesh that wakes you, and the thick taste of iron on your tongue that brings your heart to an erratic drumming.

The world around you is a foggy black, as though you were drowning in dark waters. The gunfire comes in slowly after the taste of blood has settled in your mouth, distant at first, before it blares alongside the shouts and screams of your comrades.

It's then you've heard the loud popping noises of the gunfire, and the thunderous crashing of bombs and RPG blasts just barely missing your position. It shakes the entire ground, rattling your insides, and making the sores on your body swell with pain.

You cough involuntarily before your eyes have even opened, to your dismay, as it ripples a dull pain through you that only grows sharper at every hoarse exhale.

Once your eyes have opened, you're damn near blinded by the growing fires surrounding your crashed helo, the bright fluorescent oranges and yellows hitting your retinas like needles. Your comrades' silhouettes appear blurred and twisted in the flame's light, gathered for cover at the open end of the helo, grabbing whatever ammo hadn't fallen out of the sky to keep them settled until help arrives... if help arrives.

If that help didn't get here soon, there wouldn't be anyone left to save.

One of the two men defending the entrance of the helo is suddenly mowed down, their body becoming riddled with bullet holes. If the crash had already made him worse for wear, then it had been this act after which killed him.

His body crashes to the ground without so much as a scream, and his teammate, Alpha 0-4, who's now been left outside to pick up the pieces alone, does just that. He takes what remained of the marine's ammo and continues to defend his position. It's either that or they all die here and now.

You didn't need to look around and see the rest of your team's dead and butchered bodies -- some from the crash, others from the gunfire soon after -- at this point, this had now become about survival. No matter what, you must keep moving.

You see that you're still buckled in your seat, though your weapon was no longer at your side. It had been the least of your concerns, at the given moment.

You reach for your buckle, pushing back the pain it coarsed through you as your muscles shifted and tugged at the device. The longer it wouldn't unclasp, the more desperate your actions grew.

"Let me get that!"

One of the other marines on your team, Alpha 0-2 you believe it was, rushes over to your aid, having just been assisting another wounded soldier leaning against the walls of the helo. Since the crash, he's been scrambling about trying to help the others, seeing as he had been the least injured one of the lot here.

He pulls a knife out and cuts the straps from you, releasing you from your temporary confinement. The second he does, you feel the weight of your constraints release you, and it feels as though all your insides had been compressed up until this point. The sudden release of pressure overwhelms you, nauseating you.

You fall to your knees in pain, feeling your entire body throb and your brain pulsate in your skull. You did just survive a helicopter crash, so whether or not your mind wanted to, you needed a couple seconds.

Had it not been how light-headed you suddenly felt, the cold breeze that bit at your hip finally tipped you off that you were bleeding. Loose bits of metal must have hit you during the crash; frankly, you were lucky that it only seemed to graze your hip, leaving a nasty gash at your side you only knew would heal poorly later.

The blood dampens your uniform, making your sweat run cold, as you bring a hand to your wound, attempting to soothe away the pain.

"I'd offer you some supplies," Alpha 0-2 says to you, bringing a hand out to help you back to your feet. "But we've barely even got any ammo left as is after that crash, let alone supplies. AQ's been rainin' hell on us since."

You take his hand, gritting your teeth as you'd gotten back to your feet. The hip wound wasn't as bad as it appeared, though your entire body still throbbed from the crash. At this point, if you stopped moving now, your adrenaline would dip, leaving you an exhausted wreck on the ground if you weren't careful.

"We thought you were a goner," the marine only continues. Up until he'd heard you cough, he'd all but been ready to count you as part of the deceased. "We've lost four guys already," he says. "Alpha 0-5's wounded and we're running low on ammo-"

Bullets shakes the helo, making you both duck for cover. AQ only seemed interested in providing one-minute intervals between firing on your position. Whatever little time you once had before, had now been gone.

A small part of you felt desperate to ask 0-2 for answers, wanting to know what could be done, or if this had been hopeless. Your mind was being pulled in so many different directions all at once; it was difficult enough just focusing on breathing and keeping the pain bottled in.

However, you had been Team Lead. if anything, Alpha 0-2 was happy to see you living, because now it means he didn't have to be the one giving out orders anymore. In a matter of minutes, he's watched his team's numbers drop from a group of eight to three. If any hope had been left for them now, it had been you being the extra number, and you being the leader.

With the helo wall pressed hard against your back, your clothes sticking uncomfortably to the blood and sweat which stained your skin, you find thinking a bit more streamlike suddenly.

You look to your side, being fortunate enough to find a spare pistol on one of your fallen teammates. Quickly, you reach over and retrieve the weapon, checking it for ammo first, before turning back to Alpha 0-2.

"Hold this position until Bravo can reach us," you say. "We'll reassess our game plan after we've regrouped."

"Roger that!"

As you always try and do, you put things into perspective for yourself, running by what would happen from this point on.

Soap wouldn't leave you here now. Ghost wouldn't leave you here either. Somehow, you just knew they wouldn't, which made things clear: Wait and survive.

"AUGH!"

Both your heads turn to the entrance of the helo, where you've seen Alpha 0-4, the last man other than you two, get shot.

He falls back to the ground with a heavy thud, grunting out in pain before crawling over to cover behind one of the fallen crates.

"Samson!"

Alpha 0-2 looks about ready to stand up and head out there himself, which sets alarm bells off in your head.

"Wait!" You grab his arm. "I'll go."

"What?! You can't go out there; you're already beat up as is-"

"Which is exactly why I'm going! The last thing we need is for you to get shot as well. Stay here with 0-5 and cover me, I'll bring Samson back in."

You don't give him much time to protest before you've turned your back to him, waiting for an opening between the gunfire before heading out to your comrade. Once the enemy fire ceased, you listen for your cover fire, and in a low crawl, rush out of the helo.

Outside the safety of the crashed metal, the cold night air pools around you in heavy waves. You were scared. You were terrified. One wrong move and that's it -- Light's out.

The realization of your situation hits you as you weave your way over to where your comrade has knelt, the fear and adrenaline buzzing through you as though you were drunk on it. Your actions come to you in a matter of seconds, your body relying on all of its most trained muscle memories to do what needs to be done.

You wanted to do more than you have these last few missions. You wanted to give more, to be more. And now was your chance to show that.

You crouch behind the crate, getting beside your comrade as he looked up to you, both surprised you came and writhing in pain from his wounds. However, up close, his condition had been much worse than you'd hoped, your expression sinking.

The bullets tore completely through his armor, having been shot twice through his chest. The blood pooled around him, only growing the more he shifted against the crate, and it had been clear it was taking all he had in him just to keep breathing.

Enemy gunfire picks up again in the distance, though their focus sits mainly still on the helo, the nightshade providing you with extra cover. It gives you both some time to breathe and assess the situation.

Alpha 0-4's eyes, wide and shaky, look over to you, pleading, and you've felt his trembling hands grab hold of your arm. He doesn't speak, he can't, but his actions say everything to you, and you hadn't come over here to leave him unanswered.

You bring your hands to the soldier's arms, looking him in the eyes and listening for the gunfire. "When they stop firing, I'm gonna bring you back over to the helo, alright?"

He nods.

You keep hold of him the entire time you wait, feeling his grip grow weaker by the second, and your own heart beat in your ears.

The shooting stops, the surrounding woods growing dead silent, apart from the crackle of the fires, and the distant shouting of AQ. You take hold of the soldier, lifting him up from his spot. He yelps as you bring him to his feet, and once he's stood, the minute he tries to walk he stumbles. But you steady him, letting him lean against you as you damn near drag him back to the helo with you.

"I've got you," you assure him, taking in deep breaths to distract from your own pain. "You'll be alright!"

You make it into the helo just before the enemy has started firing on your position again, their bullets kicking the dirt up in front of the helo's entrance. Had you been a few seconds slower, it's safe to say you both would have been taken out.

Inside, you bring Alpha 0-4 over to where 0-5 had been lying injured and unconscious, deciding to keep all the wounded in a single area.

"Look, we made it," you rest the soldier against the wall of the helo, steadying your breathing now that you were safe. Or at least safer than you had been out there. "Let me-"

As you've rested him down, you see the man begin to convulse. His eyes and hands starting to twitch, as gutterly noises erupted from his throat. He groans in pain, unconsciously hugging his arms over his body, as the blood continued to pool from him, his mouth now having spilled its share for itself.

"No, no, no," you begin looking around for anything that could help him -- bandages, morphine, or even just a damn bottle of water. It seems everything had been destroyed in the crash, just as Alpha 0-2 said, save for you yourselves.

His demise had only been a matter of time at this point.

"Try and hang on," you beg. "The others will be here soon."

Yes, you remember to remind yourself that fact. The others are on the way. This whole time they've been on the way. They'll get here on time, you tell yourself. They'll make it here on time. They've got to.

But when they get here, what will they do exactly? What can they do..?

You look to the man's hands, seeing them trembling and shaking. He couldn't stop the tears from falling from his eyes, just as much as he couldn't stop the blood from leaking out.

You can see that he knows.

Unsure of what else to do, you simply reach out and take hold of him, letting your touch soften his grip.

"I'm here," you say. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Alpha copies all!"

You look over to Alpha 0-2 upon hearing him speak over the comms, your heart racing as you see the joy in his face. "They're heading here now."

You don't even try and hide the smile that grows on your face. They'd made it in time after all.

"Look!" you say. "Did you hear that-"

You turn back to 0-4, only to have your smile fall and your heart sink. His grip goes still in your grasp, his eyes glassed over and wide, as his mouth sat lightly parted, the air no longer pulling its way through. Dead.

You had already known he wouldn't make it, and yet...

"Blue! Blue!"

You hear the sound of Ghost's voice boom from behind you, as the sounds of gunfire outside came to a sudden end.

Ghost is the first to enter the helo, and it was Ghost whose eyes you first met the minute he had the chance to search for you. It hadn't even been a struggle for him to find you tucked away toward the back of the helo. But when his eyes finally met yours, it was as though a weight the size of the world had suddenly been lifted off his shoulders.

It seems he hadn't lost you after all. And though it wouldn't be until later that he realizes this, it had almost been laughable how happy it made him feel to see you still here. One of the most unexplainable things he's ever experienced, only that seems to happen a lot with you, he's noticed.

And you couldn't be happier to see him. In fact, you felt the air from your lungs leave you the second his voice traveled in the air. Even as it had still saddened you of the ill-fated outcome of your team.

You can't bring yourself to speak, even as a million words passed through your mind. Had any come out, you may have just lost your composure altogether, overwhelmed with everything that had been and still was going on.

Ghost steps further into the helo, lowering his rifle and almost instinctively making his way over to you. You watch his gaze fall to the injured and deceased behind you, and then to your wounded hip.

It's there you've seen something change in him.

"Ghost..?" Your voice breaks when you speak, to your dismay. It takes all you can not to break down, now that you've allowed too much time to settle and for your troubled emotions to fester, your body screaming at you for aid.

Hearing your voice now, so tattered and broken... Ghost wishes he hadn't, even as it had been everything he hadn't known he needed to hear right now. Just the simple sound of you again.

Ghost had wanted to address you, having felt the urge to speak to you, and yet not having wanted to overstep the boundaries you two had created up to this point. The ones he has all but painstakingly made. However, you move forward before he can speak, and without so much as a word, you embrace him.

Ghost stands frozen, feeling as your arms tremble over him, your face buried into his chest, pressed uncomfortably to his gear. Your body moved almost involuntarily, merely needing to hold onto something, anything. Anyone. If only for a few seconds.

You hadn't expected him to reciprocate. Hell, you were fully prepared for him to push you to the side and reprimand you for distracting him from the mission. However, something comes over the man, an impulse that had been with him his entire journey here, and it's somehow wrapped his arms around you too, holding you tight, as though to make up for all the times he couldn't bring himself to do so properly before.

At this very moment, he truly realizes that you are alive. You are alive, and he cared more for you than he should ever have let himself.

"Canary?"

But it's Soap's voice that finally wakes you up.

You've pulled away from Ghost almost as quickly as you've taken hold, your attention being dragged in another direction.

You see the Scot emerge from behind the lieutenant, and immediately his blue eyes have fallen on you, lighting up with the twinkle of a thousand stars at the sight. He says nothing -- he wouldn't have the words to say anything good right now anyway -- he instead comes your way and takes you into his arms as well. Only unlike Ghost, who had been reserved and caught off guard by your touch at first, Soap had reciprocated your need to be held immediately, tenfold.

Soap pulled away from you, though he'd been reluctant to let go, only now noticing your injury.

Never in your life have you wanted to lean in and kiss someone before so badly like this, let alone in combat. Looking into Soap's eyes, you could see he'd felt the same way, the only thing holding you two back being your current responsibilities. That and the eyes of your lieutenant, who had watched you two silently since converging.

"Thank Christ you made it," Soap says, his eyes dropping to your wound again.

"It's not as bad as it looks," you say.

"Damn good to see you guys." Alpha 0-2 chimes in. Naturally, everyone's attention falls back on him, coming back to the task at hand. "We got five KIA, one wounded. It's just my gun and I'm low on ammo," he starts to make his way over to you and Alpha 0-5. "Help me move him-"

"No time," Ghost moves over to one of the helo's windows, checking the perimeter from his position. "They're here. Get your gun on that tree line."

Soap gives you one final look, his hands tightening over your arms. You can do nothing else but look back at him, sharing silent words with one another.

Your brief moment of levity had now come to an end. Granted, there had been no rest for the wicked. You still had a job to do.

To Be Continued...

Author's Note: At first I was gonna have more go on with Ghost and Canary/Reader, however, as I was typing it, I was just like, "that wouldn't happen right here", so it didn't.

I kind of run out of things to say here in the notes. I sincerely appreciate all of you who continue to read and support this series, it truly means the world to me and it's one of my biggest motivations to see this story through. I really don't want this plot to turn out poorly or not worth it.

I would like to upload more quickly, but alas, life has really been hitting me with the wombo-combos lately. But the next chapter will wrap this mission up, and then after that, Ghost x Reader girlies, I hope you're ready for mess 😈. Stay Tuned~

Taglist: @sleepless-atnight @sarraa-26 @quincessimus ꒰ · ◡ · ꒱

#call of duty #modern warfare ii #call of duty modern warfare ii #mwii #mw2022 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mwii #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap mwii #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish #Spotify

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trixree · 2 years ago

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WIP Wednesday

Things have somewhat eased for me in my personal life as of late, so I'm returning to my WIPs with the high hopes of perhaps finishing some of them. Will be posting snippets on Wednesdays and Sundays to motivate myself! This first snippet comes from an ongoing commission for the very patient, very wonderful @doubledead

PROMPT: Dreamsharing AU, Zoro/Luffy/Sanji

The problem about thinking nothing at all is that Sanji is not good at it.

He’s so, so painfully bad at it.

Zeff used to scruff him like a kitten and shake him by his neck in the hopes that all those extra brain cells would rattle loose and give you some peace, kid. He’s never slept well because of his racing thoughts. He’s always been cripplingly anxious. It was much worse during puberty—so much worse. He’d have these screaming night-terrors and wake up the whole restaurant with his shouting. He slept with Zeff until well after the age where any child should have been able to sleep alone.

Zeff kept a basin of seawater by his bed for dunking him; a much safer alternative to tossing Sanji straight into the ocean and a much cheaper alternative than midnight panic-showers, which go a long way into eating up fresh-water rations.

Being in the water has always calmed him. (He very quickly matured out of the fantasy of finding a Devil Fruit, no matter the ability. He could never give up his ability to swim, invisibility be damned.)

It wasn’t always strictly nightmares, either. Sometimes, the Dreams were enough to send him down a spiral. What if I’m not good enough? What if they see I’m a failure? What if I hold them back? What if they hate me? What if—

Tonight, the tried and true method of filling a pail to the brim with ocean water and dunking his face in it repeatedly has failed. It is devastating, seeing as Sanji is going on well over four days with only episodic naps to sustain him. This is about where his natural limit lies, more or less. After the four-day mark without a solid six hours, he starts unraveling like an old sock.

He stands, dripping and exhausted on the deck, looking out at the dark sea and trying to remember who’s on watch duty tonight and if Usopp will ask him questions he doesn’t want to answer. It’ll be the third night in a row that Sanji has relieved someone from their turn on watch—Nami first, Usopp twice after.

It just makes sense to take the watch when he’s going to be awake anyways. It beats tossing and turning in the bunkroom all night, worrying with every noise he makes, he’ll wake the others; worrying that if he manages to fall asleep at all, he’ll wake the others with his screaming.

With an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, Sanji climbs up into the crows nest and comes face-to-face with a sleepy-looking Luffy wrapped up in a knit blanket like someone’s grandmother.

“Hey,” Sanji mumbles around his cigarette.

Luffy smiles at him, beaming like the fucking sun, and reaches out a hand to help him into the nest. Sanji’s too tired not to take it.

They settle on opposite ends of the little bowl-shaped look out, Sanji’s legs bent and feet flat, Luffy sitting crisscross so that they fit. The lantern flickers warmly between them.

“I can take watch,” Sanji offers as he lights his cigarette. “I’ll be up anyways.”

Luffy tilts his head slightly, like an owl. “Why?”

“Can’t sleep.”

Luffy makes a little sound of understanding. “I’ll keep you company, then,” he announces. “Why’s your hair wet?”

Sanji shrugs. “Thought the water would help clear my head.”

“Did it?”

He snorts. “Not really.” Now he’s just briney and cold.

Luffy makes a racket and a half shuffling around the crows nest until they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder with Luffy’s blanket thrown across both their laps. “What’re you—” Sanji starts to ask when Luffy presses the whole hot line of his body against Sanji’s side.

“You’re cold, right? This way we’ll both be warm,” Luffy explains like it’s that easy, like Sanji’s being silly for even asking. Everything is so easy with Luffy—so uncomplicated. Nami is gone? They’ll just go get her back. Her hometown held hostage? He’ll just defeat Aarlong, easy-peasy. One Piece? Time to sail to the Grand Line with a crew of five, including oneself. No, it’ll surely be fine.

“You don’t have to,” Sanji tries. He is exercising every one of his extra brain cells to the point of collapse in attempting to ignore his earlier conversation with Nami.

She had thought he was crushing on a guy—a guy he hates, nonetheless—and here he is, pressed close to his Captain and sharing a blanket under the night sky. If that’s not crushing territory—well. The frantic galloping of his heart isn’t doing him any fucking favors.

“I know,” Luffy says, easy. Easy, easy, easy. After a minute more of racing thoughts and puffing at his cigarette, Luffy surprises him by announcing, out of nowhere, “You remind me of my brother.”

Sanji has no good associations with brothers. The declaration surprises him so much that he inhales wrong and starts coughing up a lung. Luffy smacks him rhythmically on the back until the hacking clears. As soon as it stops, Sanji is taking a truly desperate drag.

“You have a brother?” He asks once the tobacco has calmed his trainwreck of a brain enough to speak and not blurt out something stupid like were your brothers also abusive pieces of shit that made a competition out of who could leave the biggest bruises on you? or I’m sorry.

Luffy picks at a loose thread on the blanket. It’s something the both of them have in common—they’re always moving. Luffy is a terrible fidget. Zeff woulda’ bruised Luffy’s knuckles with the kitchen spoon a dozen times over, if Luffy had actually been good for bussing tables. Sanji thinks, deliriously, about Luffy picking up smoking and has to physically shake away the thought.

Hives. Hives everywhere. Hives on his brain.

“Two,” Luffy tells him, smiling quietly. “One died. You remind me of him.”

Oh.

“Shit,” Sanji says. “I’m sorry.” Congratulations don’t seem to be in order when Luffy looks a hundred years older than he actually is.

Luffy knocks their shoulders together gently. “Nah, don’t be. It’s good, to remember him. He had a hard time sleeping, too. I’d sit up with him like this sometimes, so he didn’t have to be alone.” And then, Luffy looks dead in Sanji’s eyes and says with far more tenderness than Sanji has ever deserved from anyone for any reason, “No one should have to be alone.”

It is suddenly very difficult to swallow. The hives are in his throat, now. The crew needs a fucking medic. Sanji doesn’t know what to say.

#WIP wednesday #trixree writes #lusan #endgame monster-trio #pre-alabasta #my writing #reblogs welcome and encourgaed! pls do not repost

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lucygraysboy · 5 months ago

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it’s now or never, billy tells himself, rolling onto his side as his forearms begin to go numb. he either cuts all ties to his past and lucy gray now or she’ll keep coming back, doing what she’s done earlier today, bombarding his phone with strange messages that feel more like invisible knives, cutting into his heart, haunting him. he can’t say what’s possessed him to type all those cold, cruel words when he could have just blocked her number, but there’s no taking them back now, not when she’s already viewed them. awaiting her response, he contemplates his choices and can’t say that he’s proud of them, but once again reassures himself that it had to be done. she doesn’t want him. she’s been playing mind games with him, giving him nothing but mixed signals basically ever since they both hit puberty. he can’t be hung up on her, waste away his life because she’s not done messing with his heart just yet. and so he doesn’t think about the consequences of his actions, about how his texts might affect his childhood sweetheart the other, because he won’t be there to pick up the pieces of her broken heart or witness the aftermath first-hand.

when his phone lights up again, he presses play almost automatically. it’s like ripping off the band-aid. he knows there’s nothing pleasant awaiting him, quite the opposite, but postponing this moment won’t make it hurt any less. tears well up in his pale blue eyes the second lucy gray’s voice fills the air, part of him feeling like she’s right beside him or talking to him from the other room, his chest constricting violently. he’s dead to her. good. but then why doesn’t it feel good? isn’t this what he’s wanted this whole time? as more words keep pouring out, he realizes that he’s not the only one crying, that she sounds so different because she must be fighting back tears. it hits him at once, all the memories of her bambi eyes, so big and innocent, glistening with sadness. when she begins to belittle her looks, he sits up and cradles his head in his hands, fingers sinking into his dark curls, pulling, tugging until his scalp’s gone numb. none of this is true. not a single word. he wants to scream and cry and get on the first plane back home just to beg her for forgiveness, but… he can’t turn back now. he’s made his bed, now he has to lie in it.

by the time she gets to the part about their mothers, how his own would be ashamed of him, how he doesn’t have the right to insult hers, he’s overcome with fear and heartbreak and anger, and barely listening. he throws his phone at the wall out of sheer helplessness, her voice stopping abruptly mid-sentence. he will not remember much from this moment in the morning, his emotions too strong, his grief all-consuming — he’d felt this way before only once when he learned about his mother’s death. now it’s lucy gray. she’s the one passing away and he can’t save her… or maybe he’s the one holding the knife that’s cutting her heart out. either way, the pain of losing her, really losing her, is so great that even his lungs constrict, and suddenly it seems he’ll never be able to breathe again. he races to the bathroom and doesn’t even lock the door, climbing into the shower with his underwear still on. originally, he only intends to cry, hugging his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth, letting the cold water wash away his tears, but then he spots the scissors just sitting there on the counter. he crawls out and picks them up, and soon his dark curls are falling into the sink, one ringlet after another as he begins to chop off his hair. billy’s dead. he’s dead to her. and she’s always loved his locks so… it somehow makes sense. the water keeps running, muffling out any desolate sounds that might leave his mouth. he uses the razor to shave off what’s left of his beautiful hair, and then, once he’s exhausted both physically and emotionally, his body finally sinks to the floor and somehow more tears fill his eyes… he stays on the bathroom floor until charlie finds him in the morning.

she expected some smart ass reply again, but not another shock. not another knife to her chest. ripping out what's measly left of her heart. for a moment she just continued to stare at the screen like it wasn't real– this was just a nightmare she'd wake up from, her heart lurching, panging, feeling the actual painful vibrations those detrimental words took a toll on her beat against her ribcage. forget typing, she pressed voice record,

‘i dont know but you’ve gone too far now billy bonney, you’re dead to me now’ she hiccuped, her throat constricting, ‘like you're one to attack my looks. don't get so high above your raisin'. like you haven’t always been that dorky lil boy in school? but you know what,’ she bit her lower lip to keep it from wobbling, sucking in a breath, ‘i always thought you were the most handsome one there.’ her nose sniffed, ‘not anymore... not ever.' voice cracking, a hard cry tearing from her throat. wailing as she clutched her shirt at the hurt that caused, 'you’re the ugliest person on the inside. usin' me like an object, while thinkin' i'm ugly. maybe i am...but you got nothin' but the devil in you for sayin' shit like that to me. and yeah, your mother WOULD be a damn shamed of you at what you've turned into.' it's not an attack, it's the truth. she knows his mother as well as he does, it wasn't like she didn't spend endless days with her too. lucy gray loved his mama as much as he did, her cries become even more out of control because she can't just go over and tell her how he's acting anymore. can't just go over and tell her to help her make this better.

because she's gone, neither of them have her anymore. he's selfish even more if he thinks she didn't see her as her second mom she could confide in. a mom she mourns everyday, too. 'and don't call MY mama names, she'd be even more ashamed of you,' she gritted her teeth in a streak of anger, jabbing the bed with her finger, 'she's been nothin' but KIND to you all these years and loved you like her own ALL these years. you can hate me all you want to cause jesse told you to, but she did nothin' to you. but it don't fuckin' matter anyway,' chest heaving, coughing up the words her throat was so terribly tight as the tears continued to explode out of her eyes, 'you're dead to me, billy bonney.' she hit stop on the voice record then sent. DEAD. he was dead to her as she finished screaming and crying into the mattress. she might as well hit block on his contact number because she didn't want to provoke anymore evil things he might say to her, but she couldn't dare move right now, not when she could do nothing but wear herself exhausted with the violent emotions he'd turned over in her head all from one line.

#billysgirllol #STOP IKR?? 😭😭😭💔💔💔 this is the saddest most depressing thing ever 😭#when she started saying she was ugly i died i fr started sobbing bawling my eyes out 😭😭😭😭😭 she deserves the world 😭😭😭 GOODBYE IM DISOWNING #THIS CLOWN 😭#COVERING HER BEAUTY MARK UP CUTTING HER HAIR XJSNS bye bc i’m just now adding tags and saw this 😂😂😂😂 and my son’s already had the same idea #NDNSN SOULMATES EVEN WHEN THEYRE HAVING A CRISIS 😂#his first day at this fancy school and he shows up looking like he’s just got back from iraq 😂😭#pls when he sees a picture of her looking so different 😭 losing weight bye that’s one way to end up in the hospital in her case cause she’s #already so tiny 😭 bye no my heart cant handle #posting 🌶 pics in bikini cause she’s done having a crisis 😭#maybe that’s how she ends up with billy toe? 🤔 he’ll happily give her all the attention in the world if she shows him some skin / lets him #touch a reese’s cup 😭#gotta love this character development for both of them!! 😀😀😀😀😀

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dilfartist · 3 years ago

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Family Reunion

Summary: Grandpa Joseph has always been too overprotective of you. Everything you did was either not acceptable in his eyes or too dangerous. Even your mother let him say as he pleased, she’d let off his behavior as just “worrying for his granddaughter.” Well, you had enough during your trip to Egypt. At a restaurant, you and him got into a fight: He started to scold you and became rather violent when doing so, in the end, you decided to run away. It had been a couple of months since that day, it rarely popped in your mind. But all good aspects must come to an end.

12:00

a hum fell from my lips. My boyfriend was bound to be home sooner or later. I swirled the wooden ladle in my hands. Creamy chicken soup was tonight’s main course. Mom would be happy if she tasted it. It tasted just like she typically made it. It felt like I had been back home. I let out a puff of boredom, music would lighten the mood. My hands snatch a mini red radio and start seeking a good music station. Gripping the nozzle I play with it till I’ve found a nice melody to cure my boredom. Killer Queen was the winner, my fingers began to drum against the counter coping with the rhythm of the symphony.

My eyes lingered towards the window next to me. It had been raining heavily, I began to wonder if it could flood. There was a possibility my boyfriend could be late because of this circumstance, his food would get cold quickly. I quickly grabbed two glass bowls and poured the boiling molten soup into them both. I cursed as they began to sting my hands, I laid one in front of my seat and one in front of his.

Just on time, the front door clicks open accompanied by heavy footfalls. A smile appeared on my face as I dust off the apron I had been wearing, “Welcome, how was work?” I asked without looking. No response was given; the sound of a chair scraping against the hardwood floor. “What’s his problem.” Looking up I felt frozen in place. My grandfather Joseph was sitting at the table with his arms crossed with a heated glare. Jotaro was behind him standing against the wall also having his arms, but he wasn’t bothering to look at me.

“Sit down y/n, we’re going to have a long talk.” he seethed.

My grandfather Joseph had always been overprotective of me, especially because I was adopted. Before puberty hit, his overprotectiveness wasn’t too bad. In my teenage years, he became more strict with his rules. No skin could be shown when we would go out, he’d give a long speech and punish me if I was a second late for curfew, I wasn’t allowed near any man my grandfather didn’t associate with: yet Jotaro was seen as an adult and wasn’t given any rules. It wasn’t fair.

My Mother would justify his behavior as troubling for me more. She didn’t mind the punishments that he would provide me, because he knows best. No one was on my side when it came to his unfairness.

He had been very stern and strict with me but I was still his princess, he’d always spoil me rotten with every opportunity he had. We had a great relationship with each other despite the problems with his over-protectiveness. We bonded by talking about his life when he was younger and how he met my grandmother.

When my mother had gotten sick from the stand on her back I had come along with Jotaro and my grandfather. Even though my grandpa objected he eventually allowed me to tag along. During the whole journey, I had to stick with my grandfather, even being out of his eyesight for a second would earn me a scowl. I had eventually had enough of his bullshit and we got into a fight in a restaurant in Singapore.

I cringed in discomfort as my grandfather hauled me outside of the restaurant, his grip was strong, and had no sign of letting go soon. He threw me aside causing me to stumble as I tried to stand upright, “What was that!?” His voice was venomous. “What was what?” I clutched my arm, “You were flirting with that boy. You are too young to be dating or flirting." I scoffed. I wasn’t even flirting with the boy, We had been discussing a video game that had recently come out, nothing more. "I wasn’t flirting with him! Also, I’m not a kid. You wouldn’t mind if Jotato were to get a girlfriend.” Come to think of it Jotaro had been the one who pointed out the fact I’d been talking to the boy. His brows furrowed, “Jotaro is a completely different story, he is older than you.” I became fumed, “By a year!”

“That doesn’t matter y/n! You’re grounded, don’t even think about leaving my vision again. Even if you are with Jotaro or the others, you are only supposed to be by my side.” How was that even fair? “No, I’m not. I haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m sick and tired of the way you act towards me! It’s always me who you’re strict with, it’s never Jotaro. Honestly, I wish you weren’t my grandfather, maybe you’d get your head outta my ass!”

He became stunned. He quickly became outraged and raised his hand, he swung it towards my face making a loud slap sound. I fell to my knees from the slap.

my hand reached to cradle my burning cheek, soft whimpers erupted as the pain began to settle in. “Listen here you ungrateful little bitch, I act like this because of the fact I love you, do you understand that? Jotaro can handle himself, you can’t, even with that weak little stand.” His harsh words encouraged more hot tears to spill.

“Mr. Joestar stop!” Avdol commanded as he rushed to my side. He gently helped me to my feet, “Mr. Joestar you’ve gone too far.” My grandfather got a glimpse of me. My cheek was a scarlet red and I had hot steamy tears rolling off my face. I looked like a mess. “Y/n…” He attempted to comfort me, his gesture only made me flinch in return. Avdol shook his head in disappointment as he guided me back into the restaurant, whispering little words of comfort.

When I walked in most of the people in the restaurant were looking at me, whispering with pitiful gazes. When we arrived back at the hotel we all stayed at I rushed to my hotel room locking the door instantly. I sobbed on my bed most of the night. Behind the door, Avdol and my grandfather spoke in hushed tones, “I understand your anger Mr. Joestar, however, you must apologize if you get the opportunity.” my grandfather let out a shaky sigh, “That’s what I planned to do.”

I was petty. I was so tired of being under his protection I decide to leave, and looking back it wasn’t a good decision with all of Dio’s henchmen after us. Quitely I pack all of the belongings I had brought along, I left a note on my dresser and left the room. I crept into my grandfather’s room and stole a good some of his money. I decided to stay in another hotel distant from the one we had all been sojourning at after some days I’d book a flight to America and live there.

And that’s how I ended up in this situation.

The tension was heavy. The room was silent aside from the leaking from the faucet, my stomach hurt from the anxiety increasing. A laugh left my grandfather’s lips, I looked up since I had been looking down, he had an uncanny smile on his lips. “Do you know how hard I cried when we couldn’t find you? Just to find out you left us for some boy.” his laugh grew bigger at his words.

“I- didn’t leave for a boy..” My voice was low. “I left because of my lack of freedom.”, Jotaro looked my way with a pissed-off glare, “So tell us why you didn’t go back to mom?” a lump expanded in my throat, tears were pricking In my eyes. “if I came back nothing would have changed.”

“Well, because of your Greed mom has been crying ever since.” Jotaro walked towards me getting into my face. “Mom has been worried sick, she thought you were dead. And I don’t have the heart to tell her, her daughter was off being a whore while she worried for her.”

“Jotaro that’s enough, Y/n get over here, now,” Joseph said sternly, I nodded as I sobbed noiselessly. He settled his calloused palms around my frame and started to comfort me, in that moment I fell apart weeping, loudly. “there, there.” He had a low raspy voice, “Princess, you are still my granddaughter, so I’ll forgive you for this mistake. But if you ever leave me again, I promise, it won’t be pretty. "Yes, grandpa.” I wailed louder into his coat, “As for that boy If you don’t want him hurt pack up now.”

#yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jojo #yandere jjba #yandere jotaro #yandere jojo x reader #yandere joseph joestar #yandere Joseph #joseph joestar

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summerbummin · 3 years ago

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Hawks’ Bird Traits Headcanons

Physical Traits

-The wings ofc

-Actually his wings were originally a light brown when he was a kid but once he hit puberty (or started T if u subscribe to the trans Hawks agenda like I do) then they started turning red, from light brown to copper to scarlet. The reason they changed to a brighter color was bc male birds wings are actually more colorful to attract mates and get sum fuck

-Tail feathers, they act as an airplane’s rudder would and help him with steering and balance, but the hpsc doesn’t like the tail feathers because it disrupts the angelic image they’re trying to sell, so they have Hawks pluck them or hide them in his pants (which is why they’re so baggy)

-Talons on his fingers and toes, he clips them regularly in case he has to take his gloves off so people will just think he’s wearing black nail polish, the hpsc has him hide them because they want him to look angelic, not predatory

-As well as the talons, he also has patches of scales on his feet like an actual birds, (don’t ask him why they’re not on his hands he couldn’t tell you, birds aren’t supposed to have hands in the first place but here he is) he keeps ankle high boots and socks on whenever he’s not alone to hide this

-He has extremely good eyesight, he can see 8-10 times better than the average person, he could see a mouse scurrying on the ground from 100 feet away

-The black markings around his eyes isn’t eyeliner, it acts like eye black on baseball players and helps him see against the glare of the sun

-He three eyelids, which means he can go for an unnervingly long time without blinking

-His third eyelid is a special one and is what’s known as the “nictitating membrane” its translucent and goes over his whole eyelid and protects it, it allows hawks to keep his eyes open when he’s flying at fast speeds on the occasion he loses his visor, and luckily since he’s so high up people won’t be able to see how milky his eyes have gone, it only really comes out on ground level when he’s either relaxed, half asleep, or wasted

-He has sharp canines/teeth as a way to make up for his lack of a beak so he can easily eat the tougher meats his inner raptor craves, but the HPSC does not like this because it makes him look predatory, so they did dental surgery on them

-High pitched noises drive his bird brain crazy, like metal on metal or nails on chalkboard, and those type of sounds are way worse for him than the average person, he’ll either want to fly away or stop the source of that sound

-He has oil/preen glands on his lower back (like right where back dimples would be) and he can use it to clean his feathers, waterproof them, and keep them in tip top condition! He has designated “preening” time but with how busy he is... a lot of the time he skips it rip

-He molts twice a year, because even though he’s constantly using up feathers doing hero work, he has little baby ones closest to his back which don’t detach and always stay on, he molts those along with the feathers he hasn’t used up and he Hates when he molts because his back gets so fucking itchy, and also because he can’t do hero work when he’s molting

-He has a very fast bird metabolism, which is why he’s always stuffing his face with food, flying takes a lot of energy so he constantly has to “refuel”

-He has hollow bones and despite common misconception, that doesn’t make them lighter, they’re actually hollow so they can hold extra air/oxygen to help with flying which takes up A Lot of breath

-He gets cold easily because the rest of his body isn’t covered in feathers like an actual bird would be, that’s why he wears a fluffy coat and an insulated flight suit under that to trap the heat in, also it gets very chilly high in the sky

-He will actually grow a “winter plumage” during that time of year, and his feathers with get very fluffy and poofy to try and insulate his body. When he’s cold he’ll turn into a little puff ball and people tease him mercilessly for this

Behavioral Traits

-Stress grip, if he gets stressed/highly stimulated, and if something moves within his line of sight, he’ll grab it. But the problem is he physically cannot let go until he’s calmed down. The hpsc tried to train this out of him but when realizing that wouldn’t work, no matter how hard they tried or how hard they pushed Hawks, they instead trained him to grab himself or inanimate objects instead, but absolutely do Not grab people. And Hawks has gotten pretty good about redirecting his raptor grip, but in the few situations when he doesn’t manage to... it’s a Yikes

-He really likes shiny things. When he first met Dabi he had to resist staring at the way his staples glimmered, Dabi thought Hawks was staring at him because he was analyzing him or smth but nope, it was bc bird brain go brrr

-Because of his love for shiny things, Hawks has a “cool rocks” hoard, and if he gives you one of those rocks that means you have unlocked the “hawks will now die for you” level of friendship

-Hawks Loves head pats or having people card their hands through his hair. Birds can’t reach the top of their head so other birds do it for them (allopreening) and it’s considered a social activity and one of acceptance, so Hawks will unconsciously pat or ruffle the hair of people he’s fond of, like Tokoyami for example

-He’s very carnivorous and because of that he will Tear into meat, especially the raw kind, but he never eats raw meat in public because that’s seen as “gross”

-But he can also eat other foods, and some he even has different reactions to, like with peppers. Peppers don’t taste hot or spicy to him because birds don’t have receptors for it, they taste sweet and he loves the way the juices taste. He also finds it amusing when people look at him in horror when he chomps down on a carolina reaper like it’s nothing

-To impress people he’ll do crazy dives. It stems from bird courtship rituals, but Hawks never really had anyone that special to him for most of his life, so he uses it as a trick to wow people instead and it comes in handy for heroism

-Hawks will cock his head to the side when he’s perplexed or thinking especially hard, little head tilts ;-;

-He’ll also bob his head along to music he’s enjoying, his coworkers find this hilarious and they’ll rate music on whether or not it gets Hawks to “bob” and they call it a bob instead of a bop lol

-Perches, he’ll perch on the arm of the sofa instead of sitting on the actual cushions like a normal person and he always likes to have the high ground so he’ll sit on top of tables or counter tops, he’s even gone so far as to perch himself on a lamppost once or twice, like a gargoyle

-Blindfolds calm him down because to his bird brain, being unable to see makes him think he’s safe. Or at least they used to, the hpsc used blindfolds on him when he started training as a kid, and while they might calm him down after a training session, using that technique during one would freak him out because he’s being asked To Do Something when he can’t see and birds rely heavily on their sight to function. They used that “technique” on him so much that now if someone put a blindfold on him he’d panic because of that childhood trauma tm

-He isn’t scared of the dark though, he actually has a habit of sitting in dark rooms for a bit because when he overuses his quirk, he gets migraines bc of that telepathy stuff (I know this isn’t a bird hc but I had to include this)

-He makes bird noises, like coos and chirps when he’s happy, which isn’t a lot (can we get an F in the chat), squawks when he’s startled, and raptor screeches when he’s trying to act scary. The hpsc put him in speech therapy to keep him from making bird noises, and because when he was younger he had trouble speaking and also Trauma from it because his parents treated him like a disturbance, so he’d always try to make as little noise/take up as little space, as possible. Now he’s a great talker, to the point where he won’t shut the fuck up, but when he’s extremely distressed he sometimes can have trouble speaking “actual words”

-Hawks’ feathers often react to his emotions, he can puff up/raise his feathers to make himself look bigger when he feels threatened, or they’ll bristle like pinecones when he’s annoyed, or get all soft and fluffy when he’s around someone he likes/feels safe with

-Because of his adverse reaction to the cold, Hawks loves warm things like heating pads, hot water bottles, Dabi. He loves to sun his wings too and sunbathing is his favorite way to relax (on the rare occasion he has the time to)

-He also really likes blankets, but not just because of the warmth, he has nesting instinct. He will pile a bunch of blankets and pillow and all other kinds of bedding and soft things on top of his bed. Also if there is a certain person he’s missing, articles of their clothing get added to the pile. But this “instinct” only really happens when he’s feeling lonely aka without a home

-Also if he ever had a kid his nesting instinct would go insane trying to make his house/nest “suitable” since that’s the whole purpose of nesting, making a safe place to have babies and raise them

-He is very monogamous because of the whole “raptors mate for life” thing, and because of this he’s very picky and will only actually consider a person as a life partner if he trusts them and loves them unquestionably

-However, the whole “mating for life” thing also means he can be a bit territorial of his partner, wanting to leave marks on the to show that they’re His. Like once someone put a lingering hand on his partner’s arm and he had the unreasonable urge to claw their face off

-But it’s not all bad, as a courting ritual he’ll give gifts (mainly food) to show he is able to provide, which is unfortunate because in my mind, Hawks is a terrible cook. On the plus side, he has lots of cash money that he can spend on expensive restaurants and bakeries

-Basically he’s a bird sugar daddy

Thanks for reading!!

#bnha hawks #hawks #takami keigo #bnha #mha #bnha headcanons #headcanons #dabi #tokoyami fumikage #dabihawks #just a smidge of it #birds

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echo-of-sounds · 4 years ago

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daddy dom

Headcanons on the types of Daddy Dom Aizawa, Gang Orca, and Hound Dog are.

I was going to include all six guys in this but it got so much longer than I initially planned. Toshi, Hizashi, and Fatgum are coming tomorrow!

Warnings: Daddy Dom relationship, (the rest is only mentioned, there’s no real detail) punishments, choking, slapping, spanking, spitting, hair pulling, and rough sex

Aizawa Shouta

Shouta had an inkling he was interested in dominance when he started having sex. The Daddy Dom surfaced after a one-night stand happened to moan ‘Daddy.’ He enjoyed it, looked into the subject deeper, and realized that’s exactly what he wanted, needed. However, he hasn’t had a relationship where he’s felt comfortable enough or been in one long enough to practice it.

As your relationship develops, it is something he brings up because he isn’t shy about it. He wants to be your Daddy. He wants to be his girl’s protector and her anchor. He praises you when you’re doing well. He says how proud he is. He loves and cuddles you on your bad days. When you’re crying and scared, he’s right beside you, huddling you to his chest, protecting you from whatever you fear.

Pet names are a rarity. On the odd occasion a good girl slips out, it’s a telltale sign he’s in a highly dominant mood. You’re expected to listen, do what you’re told, and say, ‘please and thank you.’ To make you feel fluttery and happy, he’ll call himself Daddy as he’s helping you.

Kitten is even more limited. He uses it when you dress up in the pink lingerie he bought you. It has a little collar with a bell, a cat-eared headband, garter bands, and cute, frilly panties and bra. There’s also a cat tail butt plug you can play with. But there’s a catch- there’s depreciation. If you use it too much, he isn’t as excited and it’s clear to see. You need to keep the lingerie away until you’re in dire need of your Daddy and a good fucking.

He takes pride and joy in seeing your smile at a new, fancy bracelet or an adorable teddy bear. But he’s uncertain when buying. He knows what you like, yet he just can’t decide on which dress you’d prefer. Despite his self-doubts, his presents are usually excellent, especially any soft, thigh-high stockings or cute, striped panties he brings home.

Though you won’t ever be able to tell, sometimes it is hard for Shouta to discipline you. He enjoys your bratty moods and how you ignore his commands to sit still. Your whimpers and whines and facial expression are incredibly cute. But at the end of the day, he is your Daddy and it’s his responsibility to keep you on track and provide stability. His go-to punishment is no orgasming… for a long time. You can’t touch yourself or grind on a pillow. If you beg, it’ll only extend the punishment. Occasionally, spanking is also used, particularly when you’re riding him and not listening.

Highly dominant doesn’t always mean rough. Yes, he is that most of the time. But he has periodic moods where he won’t use discipline. It’s when he’s in a coddling mood. Daddy becomes gentle, erotic, intent, and intimate. Don’t hold back your moans. Please, whine and whimper and fuss and mewl. Your soft cries and little wriggles please him so.

When he is rough, you’ll be leaving red streaks down his back. He loves seeing them in the mirror the next morning, so he strives to get you that aroused and pleasured every time. And nothing is truly off the books for him. Whatever you wish, he’ll command: slapping, spanking, choking, hair pulling, and spitting.

Shouta is more of a nonverbal Daddy. Both of you know he’s dominant and it’s your job to behave, so he doesn’t feel the need to command you as much as others may. He just yanks your body around as he pleases, slaps and chokes you when you don’t listen or get off-topic, and spits on your tongue to get you to quiet down. Now that doesn’t mean he won’t talk. At your misdoings, his steeled voice is gruff and guttural, commanding, punishing, and asking what you did wrong.

Daddy gets even more domineering when you cum without permission. That’s the one rule you should never break. If he’s feeling charitable (which is rarer than a blue moon), he’ll let you cum. Other times, he’s deepthroating you, cumming down your throat, and making you swallow it. And that’s all you’ll get. Again, don’t beg. That’ll worsen the punishment. All you can do is be a good girl and hope he lets you cum in the next few days.

Gang Orca

Kugo never considered himself a Daddy or any sort of dominant man in general. The few times he’s had sex, he was more on the submissive side, letting his partner lead and ride him as they wished. His fear of hurting his partner really held him back. However, the instant he hears you softly, weakly whine Daddy, gently pawing his chest, pining for him to make you feel good, the switch is flicked and there’s no going back.

Before he fully engages in the Daddy Dom relationship, he does a lot of reading and asks you question after question. If he ever hurt you or pushed past your limits, he’d all but die inside. You need to ease into it. Let him become accustomed to the power dynamics, the dirty talking, what’s expected from him, and the lifestyle.

In the beginning, he’s as sweet as can be. You’re his little one whom he loves to spoil. He buys you dainty panties, comfy sweaters, and dresses for every occasion. You should always model clothing for Daddy. He’ll appreciate your appreciation. As you turn around in a cute, lace nightgown, his fingers flow up your thighs, caressing between them, gently brushing along your new panties, making sure everything fits perfectly.

He gradually leans into the discipline aspect as the relationship grows. Once comfortable with himself and you, the punishments come frequently. They depend on the severity of your bad behavior. If you don't listen, you don’t get sweets. If you didn’t listen twice, you have extra chores to do. If you didn’t listen three times, no sexual gratification of any kind for however long Daddy deems necessary.

In spite of that, he is a weak Daddy when it comes to his little one. Your puppy-dog eyes burrow into his heart. Your wiggling thighs get him heated. Your little mewls for your Daddy’s attention haunt him. But he doesn’t give in all the time. He still has structure, stability, and dominance to uphold.

Kugo is truly a safe Daddy. He’s your secret place where your every thought, desire, emotion, and fear will always be heard, understood, and respected. Whatever you tell Daddy when you’re curled up on his chest, snuggled in his arms, stays with Daddy. He guides you through the crowded mall, nurses the cuts on your legs, acts as an anchor through depression and anxiety, and protects you from the rumbling thunder. And by God, is he protective.

Protectiveness is his main characteristic. He wants you to wear his T-shirt and sweatshirts. When he cums, he seats himself fully insides, letting him empty out completely. His hands rub your lower stomach like he’s feeling his property. Even as he falls flaccid, he stays inside. He needs to make sure everything has drained. If he could, he’d keep you filled with his seed forever.

Tender, slow sex involves you riding Daddy. He squeezes your thighs and tummy as you bounce. He praises every movement, every part, every itty-bitty sound. Your passion is so important to him. Seeing your body seek out its pleasure and rapture in the safety of your own little world fills his heart with love.

Dominant Daddy is less common yet so fulfilling. His thick, wet tongue washes deep. Fingers spread you wide. His erection spreads you further. You’ll be thrown on the bed, stuck under him for multiple beautiful orgasms. As you cum, moan ‘thank you’ again and again. Your gratitude encourages him. He’ll keep you moaning into the morning.

Hound Dog

The second Ryo entered that seriously horny stage of puberty, he knew his dominance. As he started having sex, it only flourished. He’s rough, fast, controlling, and one-hundred percent, hands down a brat tamer. Your whines and protests are cute, but he always wins. Hearing his rasping, growling voice is enough to get you to concede to his demands.

Aftercare and any delicate aspects will take time and learning on his part. He wants to be so gentle, caring, and sweet with you. His natural rough nature gets in the way. As any good Daddy is patient with his little girl, a good girl needs to be patient with him. And when he gets there, he gets there. You’ll be swaddled in a warm blanket, given candy and drinks, and your favorite bed-time Tv will play while you wind down. His warm, smooth tongue laps over bruises and scratches.

There’s one big thing about this Daddy: God, he just loves to watch you suck: him (specifically his foreskin), his fingers, your fingers, a lollipop, a pacifier, whatever. Lay on his chest, wrapped in a blanket, and nurse on a binkie as you fall asleep. The most common way sex starts is with a blowjob. It commonly ends that way as well. He either makes you finish him with no pleasure for you or, after you’re finished, he lays you down and deepthroats you.

Right off the bat, punishments are a main part. There’s a written list on the fridge you must obey. Though he doesn’t spank. You might act up just to get spanked, and he won’t have that. The discipline always matches the offense. Are you back talking? You’re eating something you don’t like. Is your temper too hot? You’re taking an ice-cold shower for five minutes. Are you ignoring him? Daddy’s going to rile you up then leave you hanging and whining, showing you what it’s like to be neglected.

After the punishment is complete, Ryo transitions right into aftercare. Daddy loves you enough to punish you. That love is strengthened after by his licks and kisses. Besides, Daddies who don’t show their little girl compassion and care afterward, aren’t good Daddies. He loves and respects you and wants you to know, see, and feel that.

And the punishments never push past your boundaries. You’re never put in danger. In any way. The safe word is always available. He won’t give you food you truly can’t handle for whatever reason. He’s right beside you as you shower just in case something goes wrong. The moment the water’s shut off, you’re immediately swathed in a cozy towel.

During one of his more… inflamed moods, you’re fastened in a collar. It’s pink with little flowers. The heart decoration on the front is a padlock. Only he has the key. It has ‘Daddy’s Girl’ inscribed on the back. It goes on as soon as you get home. And it stays on until you leave. There is a leash he’ll use if you aren’t behaving, holding, leading, and controlling all your movements.

There are times when he goes into (sort of) a heat. It could be a quirk side effect. It could just be him. Either way, you’re going to get completely dominated. Your hair will be pulled. Your throat will be choked and fucked. Your cheeks, both sets, will be red and raw. Scratch marks and dark bruises will stain your neck, legs, and back.

His favorite is any doggy-style position. It’s carnal and crude. Daddy has total authority since his weight bears down, caging you to the bed. Use your voice. Let him hear every gasp and cry. Beg for him. Plead for more. Pray for just one more orgasm as your hair’s tugged and clit’s smack sore. The harder you crave, the harder he thrusts.

Sweet sex is a rare time when he kisses and cuddles. Heat surrounds you. Muscled thighs and callused hands direct your weak, longing body. His tongue never leaves your mouth, licking over yours, causing drivel to drip down your chin. It may not be rough, but the sincerity and intimacy provide more than enough pleasure for an amazing orgasm. And Daddy passionately walks you through it.

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lilmissbacon · 3 years ago

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Elsa vs Jack Frost Death Battle

Because there are so many people who think Elsa would beat Jack, even though I made a longass analysis debunking that. I will be using the Marvel Power Grid for this determination.

There is also a YouTuber "Sans Logic" who has already done this battle AND with marvel power grid but there were a few things I didn't agree with him on so I'm doing it myself.

So let's see who will win

1) Intelligence

Elsa

This is something that Sans Logic did get kinda right. Being able to create an ice castle in the spur of the moment while singing on a mountain is impressive and being able to get so intricate into detail is beautiful. But I wouldn't put it in the genius category.

Genius is like being an inventor/scientist which is something Elsa is never going to be. Her smarts are just on the more artistic side, if anything.

If she was genius, then in Frozen 2, she would've thought of something other than just running into the Dark Sea like she does.

For this she gets a ranking of 4 out of 7: gifted.

Jack

Yes, Jack may just be a genius since he's been around for 300 years. BUT we cannot assume for the sake of others thinking otherwise. Since we have to go by what we absolutely know, let's look at it like this; Jack was able to plan and execute said plan to defeat Pitch using fun within seconds.

After he realizes his center in fun, he immediately comes up with a plan to gather Jamie's friends and that having fun with them will bring Pitch's defeat. That's a really smart analogy in such a quick amount of time.

For this and the fact that he's been around for 300 years (he'd at least be a little wise) I'm also giving Jack a 4.

2) Strength

This does not include their magic, it's purely physical.

Elsa

She's been locked in her room for 13 years. Yes, she may have had the past 3 years to exercise her muscle by Frozen 2, but it is actually very hard for the female body to change much after puberty.

She'd barely be able to lift her own body weight. But since she was shown to be able to do so during her fight with the Nok, she gets a 2: normal.

Jack

Jack isn't much different. We don't see his physical strength come into use other than when he's steering North's sleigh at Tooth's Palace and even then, that's more him directing the reindeer rather than actually pulling them.

Also just from his physique alone, he's very thin and seems to have almost no muscle.

For the sole fact that the reindeer were able to feel his tug for how big they are, he also gets a 2.

3) Speed

Flying and running count

Elsa

Elsa is slow. Let's be real, she's just a pretty runner.

When she's going through Ahtohallan, running on the ocean and even when she's almost crushed by a chandelier, she's not that fast.

I can run faster than that, and I'm fat. People I know – us average people – can run faster than that. Even on ice because I live in a very icy state.

She's slower than average so she gets a 1 🤷 I'm sorry.

Jack

There was another video that Sans Logic made about him coming to the conclusion of how fast Jack is.

Basically, he breaks the sound barrier.

Jack manages to fly from Russia to Pennsylvania, America in 11 seconds. And no, there wasn't a time skip because the people who worked on this movie was not only DreamWorks but the people who made How to Train Your Dragon, respectfully. These creators would never have skipped out on making a beautiful flying scene. The scene showcases just how fast Jack actually is.

So just like Sans Logic, I'm giving Jack a 5.5 because he's much faster than the speed of sound but he's not breaking the speed of light either.

4) Durability

Elsa

She knocks herself out...

In the first Frozen, when she fights the guards and the chandelier is falling, she slips on air and knocks herself out.

I'm giving Elsa a 2 out of charity on the fact that she doesn't manage to do the same during her fight with Nok in the sequel.

And no, her immunity to the cold doesn't count because this category is about physical damage.

Jack

Jack however HAA!!!

During the final battle, he manages to fall from over 100 feet onto a roof, then a dumpster and then finally on concrete.

WITHOUT A SINGLE BRUISE!

And even then in Antarctica, he takes the full blast of Pitch's attack and blacks out for only about 10 seconds at most and that was mostly from the pain of his staff being broken.

This man is AT THE LEAST a 5: bullet proof, if not a 6: superhuman. Which would make sense, since he's a spirit.

So Jack gets a 5 because we don't know the extent of his durability.

5) Energy Projection

Basically how far their powers can travel. I've mentioned this before in my analysis of their power sets but I'll clarify again.

Elsa

She freezes all of Arendelle. Of course we know this, it's the plot of the first movie. But that's not because of how powerful her magic is.

As we see here;

At the end of the first Frozen, Elsa creates a storm that covers the castle + fjord. At this point she's not even trying to hold in her powers, she's just trying to get away. Meaning this is as far her magic can project from where she stands.

The only reason she managed to freeze the entire country is because she dragged the storm with her when she ran to the mountains.

Like smearing paint on paper, she smeared winter across the land.

And it does stand to reason because the ONLY times we see it physically snowing is when Elsa is within this vicinity. The only time we ever see it snow around Anna, Kristoff or Arendelle itself, is when Elsa is or just was within vicinity. Other than that, everything is just already snowed over, there isn't even a breeze.

And if anything, it actually makes sense that this is how far she can project her powers. If you look at Ahtohallan, aka; the source of her magic, you can tell that it is the same size of the storm that she makes. So it would make sense that her powers would be able to cover the same amount of area that the place her powers derive from, does.

So Elsa gets a 5 here; long range and duration.

Jack

He IS winter.

Elsa froze a single country simply because she happened to run across it, Jack freezes multiple countries on a daily basis. It's literally his job as the spirit of winter.

Not to mention there have been winters much harsher then the one Elsa made. Winters that he caused.

We literally don't even know the extent of his power because he himself didn't realize just how powerful he can be until Sandy's death.

In that very scene you can see that the explosion he makes (e.i. how much ice he makes) is almost as big as the entire town below them.

I'm giving him a 6 only because 7 is virtually unlimited command over all types of energy. And I don't know about you but I don't see Jack being able to control electricity or energy itself.

I mean, it's not like he can create light-

Oh wait-

6) Fighting

Physical hand-to-hand combat

Elsa

Have we ever seen her physically hit anyone? No. Have we ever seen her fight in general without using her powers? No.

Elsa doesn't know how to throw hands.

I guarantee you if she tried to punch someone, she'd accidentally break her thumb because she put it over her knuckles instead of under.

In Frozen 2, Elsa states, "Anna, no. I have my powers to protect me, you don't."

If she thinks Anna (who she knows can fight) can't protect herself without magic, it really says a lot about how she feels about herself with her own abilities.

Even in Ralph Breaks the Internet when Vanelope glitches into the princess room and when the princesses take charge, Elsa OPENS her hands.

When you're scared, your response is either fight or flight and when you're fight, your involuntary instinct is to close your hands so you have fists at the ready. If Elsa could fight, that's what she would've done. But no, she opens them.

Elsa is a 1 she is poor at it.

Jack

For Jack, it has been confirmed in his official character bio that he knows parkour and kendo.

Kendo is a form of martial arts that means "way of the sword." He uses a mix of kendo and parkour to make his own unique fighting style that helps him evade his opponent.

So he knows how to "basic fight" let alone "professional fight."

Jack is a 5: master of a single form of combat.

Overall score

Elsa = 15 / Jack = 27.5

Jack wins hands down. Elsa doesn't stand a sliver of a chance.

Not only by this power scale but he also has the additional ability to fly in order to get around her AND he is also immune to the frozen heart.

He is the spirit of winter, he's colder than anything on earth.

In fact, there's a deleted scene from Rise of the Guardians where Jack fights Pitch on a satellite in space.

Jack can survive the colds of SPACE! He's not even human. He's basically ice himself and you really think her ice is going to even slow him down?

🎉The Winner🎉

Other than all of that, this was fun.

Once again, I am using Marvel's Power Grid for these scale ratings, if you ever want to use it for yourself.

And you know what, if anyone who reads this wants to make any recommendations (if I know the characters you suggest), I'll make a little Death Battle analogy for them too.

I think it'd be fun. It'll be fun to see what you guys suggest.

#jack frost #elsa #rotg #rise of the guardians #frozen #frozen 2 #who wins #elsa didn't stand a chance #analysis #death battle

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slashingdisneypasta · 3 years ago

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Kurt Kelly x Fem!Bitch!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Someone Gets Hurt

Plot: Some little wannabe steals away your boyfriend, Kurt, while also batting her big ass lashes and winning over your friends, too... until you've had enough. No one out bitches you.

Notes:

Obviously, this is inspired by Someone Gets Hurt from Mean Girls except with Regina (The reader) as the heroine.

Warnings: Overall bitchiness, possessiveness (You about Kurt), break ups (Make ups too though so its not too bad ^^), the ruining of another persons relationship (Random girl Lizzie and Kurt's), rapeiness (Ram), sexual references, underage drinking, overage drinking, just LOTS of debauchery over all, a smut bit near the end (Not full), etc.

Was I too proud with you? Was I too cold and forbidding? And you chose her over me Are you kidding?

Watching Kurt and Lizzie together this week has been torture. Terrible, burning, squeezing, not-at-all sexy torture.

Because Kurt, is yours.

He has always been yours. He was yours in kindergarten, he was yours in middle school, and he was yours all through highschool until this, unfortunate and butt fucking ugly, snag. Crossing your arms now and poisoning them with your eyes, you sit in the cafeteria... and think.

Just, think.

You don't gossip with your minions about all the bullshit going on in school, you don't discuss what you're going to do to the freshmen this year, no. Nothing. You're too busy... plotting.

There is no way in hell, that this pee-brained virgin bitch is going to steal your boyfriend, and not get paid back in turn. Its only fair- and you include interest, in your transactions like this.

One eye actually twitches, when Lizzie... the pee brained virgin bitch in question, gives Kurt a peck on the nose - oh so cute, but you don't even have to look at Kurt to see the disappointment flash in his eyes, - and hops off his lap when the bell rings. He has a free period now, you know because so do you and you usually spend it at the back of the football field together, but she has Chemistry, a thing you also know because hell- you just know everything. That's a basic fact. The whole school knows it and love that you never have to explain how you just fucking know shit.

But even being all knowing does not make you feel better, knowing that itty bitty roach-cunt has her claws embedded in your poor, weak-willed... ex boyfriends,... heart. Or his penis, more likely. Metaphorically speaking, obviously, because Lizzie's the 'Mary'est whore in the land of Westerberg High.

That doesn't really matter though. Either way, he's with her now and not you, and that just wont do.

Maggie, your right hand babe, gets up from your lunch table and leaves for her next class, too. And its only until she's out of sight, that you notice the piece of paper she left behind. Rolling your eyes, a growl of annoyance escapes you and you sigh- turning away from Kurt and Ram's table to see what the fuck it is. The reprieve is almost palpable, not looking at him anymore. It feels a little better- but not by much. And certainly not enough for you to forget what fuckery is going on.

Picking up the piece of paper in one perfectly manicured hand, you see that its an invitation. "Hmm... " Worrying the inside of your cheek, you think; This is interesting.

A Halloween party...

A gleeful smirk quirks slightly at the corners of your lips.

Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween.

And what you meant by 'Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween'- is 'Kurt always did have a boner for your Halloween costumes'. For the past several years, since the two of you blossomed with the help of puberty, you have used your assets as an advantage - because why else have them? - ; With the help of lace tights, push up bra's, winged eyeliner and red lipstick.

This year you've pulled together your favourite costume yet, which is fitting for the task at hand and the fact that its senior year- this may be your last chance to put these bottom dwelling highschool chuckleheads in their place.

I mean, you hope not but its basically a given.

Looking around the party as you walk in, you figure its just the same as any party Ram has thrown before. And his house is perfect for it, you'll give him that. The lights a turned down low enough that everyone looks a little hot, cooler's full of ice and alcohol are set up so you're never too far from a fix and thanks to his houses sound system the music is loud enough to make you think for a couple hours that you're in a place between reality and your dreams; A perfect set up for mistakes and one wild night.

But you aren't here to get drunk and kiss a loser, except for Kurt; You're here to take back the goddamn crown. Which getting Kurt back, will do. It'll humiliate Lizzie, and that's really all you want out of life right now.

Prowling through the crowd - which still knows to part for you, despite your current, slightly lower social standing, - in your knee high, shiny black leather boots, you look for someone to talk to. You know Maggie's here somewhere but that bitch is on her last life with you, after she said Lizzie's hair looked nice the other day. And you think some silent treatment will set her straight.

"Oh- Hi Ram." You find the host in the backyard, about to push an unsuspecting demoness into in a very sheer red blouse into the pool - which would doubtlessly make the blouse more of a red tint to her skin rather then any kind of coverage, which Ram well knows, - , and he double takes when he sees you. A sleazy, mischievous grin slops over his face at the sight, which makes you roll your eyes.

Deeply.

"Ohhh, heyyyy, Y/N!" He has to yell over the sound of the music and the other party-goers, not that you would mind if you didn't hear anything he said. He hasn't got a whole lot of substance, Ram, so you can basically assume that rolling your eyes is always the answer to anything he's saying. His eyes shift back, anxiously, to the girl he's currently got a hit out on, but you just raise your eyebrows sharply at him and he's at attention. "I didn't know you were gonna come! You know, with the state of things... "

Oh, he's so obnoxious. And dumb! So, so dumb. He doesn't know the half of your shit. Yet he still runs his mouth... Rolling your eyes once again, you flip some hair behind your head. "Oh don't worry your pretty little head about that, Ram." Eyes flickering around the party some more, searching for your own target, you rest your hands on your hips that are tightly bound, in various layers of violet georgette cloth. The witches hat on your head is pinned down, so theirs no chance of it flying off. You have a train of thinner fabric hanging down the back of your short-short skirt, and your tight tube top reveals exactly the shapes you require it to. "I'll be perfectly fine- oh, have you seen Kurt anywhere?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh I think I saw him and Liz against a wall earlier- but by the looks of Liz, I doubt they're in a situation like that anymore." He chuckles, dumbly. The stupid boy has a slur in his voice that you hadn't noticed before but probably should've known would be there. But you're sure focusing in on him now, jealousy burning in your eyes at his description. What does that mean??

"What?"

A geek walks by, toting a bottle in his hands that Ram snatches for himself. As the kid continues by, faster now due to the angry look in Ram's eyes and the animalistic growl that slips from the footballers lips, you continue to glare bullets at Ram. He takes a messy swig of his beer before continuing. "Just sayin', Y/N. Your friend's a prude. Won' even let Kurt get to second base with 'er or anything. So I'd say Kurt's, probably, uhhh... by the pool table, now." He shrugs big round shoulders then, as relief and mirth wash over you. So he didn't mean they'd have moved their dirty little adventure to somewhere they could really get down, or anything. He means quite the opposite.

A smirk graces your red painted lips.

"Well- enjoy your party." You shrug, not really caring as his eyes shine... turning back to the demon girl who's just laughing with her friends; He sure will. Eyes narrowing, you mutter a bitter "Dick." under your breath, as a final bid to Ram.

Turning on your heel, you head back into the house. You've been here plenty of times with Kurt and know exactly where the pool table is (And how uncomfortable it is to be bent over) and sure enough- there he is.

Your boyfriend.

Or, soon-to-be, once-again boyfriend.

He's standing back with a stick, waiting for his turn as he laughs with some over football boneheads. Lizzie isn't here, but you suppose she could have gone to get a drink or talk to one her - your, - friends, but where she is actually doesn't concern your in this moment. All you can do right now, is stand and stare.

God, he's hot.

You miss him; You really do. And, admittedly- not just because he can fuck you like no one else.

But your moment passes, and you gather your wits. Ready.

You're hot, you're smart, and you're ruthless. You can do this.

Saddling up beside Kurt, a genuine smile slips across your face as you look up at him; Running a hand back through your hair. "Hey, Kurt." Slightly widening your eyes, you raise a brow as he turns to look down at you. "What's up?"

Like- its been a while. What have I missed?

Immediate 'Oooooh's and 'Oh no the ex- Kurt watch out!'s erupt from his meathead athlete friends, but what you care about is how Kurt struggles for a moment to tear his eyes away from yours, like the eyeliner you perfected and the colour and the just- you, has hypnotised him. He flashes his friends a wicked grin, waiving them off as he turns to put his body between you, and the group. It puts you so close together- and you sure don't step back any.

Then his eyes flicker down to the rest of you- and he really has a problem looking away. "Oh, uh, hey Y/N. N-nothing much. Uh... you look... "

A gentle chuckle flutters out of you, resting a hand on your right hip. "What? Black cat caught your tongue?"

Jesus- even the mention of that particular muscle reference to him does something to you. And being this close to him again, and seeing his reaction to your outfit... its all just so right. The way things should be.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but immediately closes it again on remembering something. A seriously awkward hm sound escapes him which you don't quite get yet, but you decide that you don't need to.

"So... " You start, getting rid of the tough bravado suddenly... letting awkwardness seep into your tone; Your appearance. On purpose. Eyes downcast, you let your arms slide down to your sides again, lacing your fingers together in front of you for a moment, pretending you're at a loss for words. "Um... maybe this is... weird... "

"What?" A big hand ghosts over your hip- you can just feel his skin graze against you.

You look up to catch his gaze again suddenly, lips and eyebrows scrunching after a moment, unsurely. "Uh, well... " Chewing innocently on your bottom lip, you hold your arms behind your back; not-at-all meaning to push out your chest more. No, not at all... "Me coming up to talk to you... since the break up... "

A hiss escapes him, as he suddenly, seemingly, like just seeing you had him returning to old habits, remembers that fact himself and takes a step back from you. Your brows knit together, up at him- perfectly pitiful.

"Oh man- yeah. Maybe. Fuck!" He runs a hand up through his hair, looking convincingly tortured.

Already!

You could rejoice.

Oh, Kurt... we've only just started.

Sighing, you look away again. "Look, I'm sorry. I just... well, Kurt, I've missed you!"

Suddenly his eyes, still and focused, turn more sternly down on you and your insides squirm at it. Like muscle memory, your body screams for you to back up; Get on your knees, bat your lashes. Ask what's wrong, Daddy?

His eyes narrow, and you resist the temptation to smirk. "Oh- no. No, Y/N. I know what you're doing, okay? I'm not dumb! This is all just too... too... " The fact that he cant even really speak, even as he's trying to be all tough and put up walls between you two, really gives you confidence. You must still really have an effect on him- as you should. Of course you do. One week with a little lily livered slut bag does not erase an entire lifetime between two people. Kurts lips curl into a scowl. "You're not like this." He states, and you raise your brows. Oh? "You're manipulating me, aren't you? Come on, Y/N!"

His tone is pleading. He's begging, you.

Damn, he must really want Miss Lizzie's little ass.

After a moment, you shrug. "Okay, whatever, you got me." Shedding the innocent act, you lean back on the pool table as the boys continue to play; Laying yourself out for him. "Does that mean I was lying? No, I really do miss you."

He scoffs. "Yeah, right." Rolling his own eyes, he focuses his gaze off somewhere else in the party- rather then on you. "All you care about is your reign of terror."

Oh... he knows that's not true.

But still, if he's going to play that way- "Yeah, sure- and all you care about is pussy." Shrugging, you drum your fingers bordly against the edge of the table on either side of you. "I guess we're a pair."

"Fuck, Y/N... you know you're... y-you're... Damn, that I love you. You fucking know that." He hisses, getting mad. And you inwardly smirk.

There it is...

Tightening your grip now, you look up at him to see he's once again looking at you. And for a moment, amongst all the madness that party's are- it feels like its just you two. "And you know... I love you."

Pushing off the pool table, you stalk towards him and trace your hands up his chest; Locking your arms around his neck lazily, and resting your chest against his. And you can see it. You can see, the struggle inside him about whether to just give into you- and your tits and your lips and your hips, and- just, you! Or to stay away. Because you're poison; Even you're well aware of that fact.

You're like a boa constrictor. You get yourself wrapped around your victim and you squeeze, and squeeze, and squeeze... until you have them just how you want them. Moulded into a shape that works well, for you.

But he's a lion. Imposing, and selfish, and self serving. And too big for you to ruin.

Its like you said; You're a pair.

And you cannot give him up.

"Kurt... come on." Leaning up, and talking in a quiet, just-for-him voice now, your lips brush against his and he lets out a shuddering breath. "We belong together, don't we? Its us- forever. You've known it since second grade. Sure, it took me a few more years to realise it too, but we're here now." Sincerity bleeds into your tone; Something you can't help when he looks like he wants to kiss you so badly, like that. "It can't be you and her." It cant. Tilting your head to the side, teasingly, you smirk mischievously; Just for him. "Is she going to fuck you like I do?"

"Shit... " Kurt mutters, eyes stuck on your lips. His hands find your waist, gathering you up against him roughly like he always does when he just wants you. Animalistically, wherever you are- whoever sees be fucking damned.

But he still isn't taking you. And that's a problem.

Brushing a thumb over his bottom lip, you turn your head like your making out to kiss him- but don't. Furrowing your eyebrows, you look pleading at him for an answer. "Was it all a lie, then? With us? Were we?- "

And that does it- he's had enough- he's at boiling point- Lips smash into yours, crossing the centimetre of space between them and he doesn't fuss around at all, to warm up. Your tongues connect almost instantly, and in 0.2 seconds, you two are that moaning, making out mess couple that every party has.

Through your lust filled haze, you can just about feel victorious.

A few moments after that your back hits the closest wall, and your legs wrap around his waist as he holds you up- you two know the drill by now. Kurt's grinding his raging hard on deliciously through his jeans into your bare cunt- moaning and muttering something into your cheek as he sloppily makes his way down to your breasts about you being such a slut.

You REALLY don't mind.

Eyes half lidded, you catch sight of Lizzie in the crowd behind Kurt. The crowd that, apart from her, doesn't care at all what the two of you are doing.

You smirk absolutely evilly towards her, before mouthing 'mine'.

#Kurt Kelly x Reader #Kurt Kelly x Fem!Reader #Bitch Reader #Mean Girl Reader #Mean Girls #Mean Girls the Musical #Heathers #Heathers x Reader #Kurt Kelly x Reader Oneshot #Ram Sweeney

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migilini · 4 years ago

Note

Could you please write one of those Tiktok "I tried to kiss my bestfriend / crush" challenge for either Charlie or Owen. Thanks!

Crushtok - Owen Patrick Joyner

A/N: Yes ofc I can! I never wrote for Owen so let me know what you think! I hope you like it :)

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: tiktok and noise (so none really)

Requests are open!

MASTERLIST

--------‐--------------

The sun poked through curtains and you swore that you had heard birds the day before but it was loud, uncomfortably so. All you heard was the clacking of metal and the rattling of the machinery that the construction in front of Owens Appartement made. All the unpleasant noises woke you up in the early morning. Grumbling, you tried to block out the noise with a pillow pressed against your face.

"That's not gonna work sleepy beauty" a lower voice croaked, catching you completely off guard so you let out a quiet shriek. "Oweenn why do you have to scare me badly in the morning?" You whined and took the pillow away from your face.

He sat on the other side of the couch, just underneath your feet and looked absolutely tired. His blonde hair was standing up in every possible direction, his normally piercing blue eyes trying their best to stay open. By the way, he was looking at you with a little smirk on his lips, you figured that you didn't look any better.

"Because it's 6 am on a Saturday morning and I didn't want to suffer alone. So lucky you for visiting me this week!" Owen exclaimed and hit your leg in a joking manner.

"I've got thrown out by my landlord. I'm not here on my own terms..." this earned you a shocked gasp from the boy sitting in front of you. "And there I was, thinking this friendship meant something to you." You just rolled your eyes with a smirk.

"Do you want to come back to my bedroom? With some music playing it's much quieter than out here." Nodding tiredly, he held out a hand to help you stand up; you only noticed when you nuzzled into his bed that he didn't let go of your hand.

You woke up a couple of hours later, quiet pop music filled the darkroom and it was hot, your bare legs sticking to the duvet covers. You turned around and faced a back with broad shoulders that were just moments ago pressed against your back. Groaning, you stuck your legs out of the bed, the cold air cooling you down immediately. Owen stirred next to you and sat up slowly.

"Morning part 2." you chuckled and automatically pushed some of his hair out of his face.

"Mornin" he mumbled back.

"You were right it's much quieter in your room."

You stood up, stretching your limbs, before heading back into the living room where all your stuff was stored, quite impractically but it was stored.

You heard a shower running, that gave you the perfect time to change from your big shirt and little pants sleep attire to a more comfortable day outfit. After rummaging through your boxes, that you packed in a freezy, you choose some brown cotton pants with a white body and to top it off your favourite purple cardigan that Owen gifted you one Christmas. With some extra time, you put on your glasses and started to search for a new place to stay.

"So what do you wanna do today? I have nothing going on so..." you stopped listening as Owen walked into the living room shirtless. He wore some blue sweatpants that hung quite low on his hips, his chest still sparkling from the water.

You would have probably started to drool if he wouldn't have worn his hair in a towel bun.

You let out a laugh that made him stop in his tracks.

"What?" he stared at you intensely.

"Oh, nothing princess... nothing. We uh... could look at some apartments for me and just go for a drive?"

"Am I that bad of a roommate?" he said and plopped down next to you on the couch his arm resting on the top comfortably.

"No but I would really appreciate a place to store my stuff properly." you continued to scroll through places to stay.

"This one looks good." he pointed out and put his finger on the screen, you hadn't realised that he rested his arm just above your shoulders so it took you off guard when you suddenly felt his arm on your neck.

"Mhmm, but you cant look at it today... This one though has a viewing in the late afternoon."

"Then that's our plan for today."

"Y/N! Y/N!" Owen screamed loudly from the kitchen "Come here real quick."

With your phone still in one hand, you waddled over to your best friend. "What's the emergency?" you looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Do this TikTok with me." he pleaded and looked at you with a slight pout, shoving his phone in your face. Your eyes scanned the screen and then you scoffed, "First of all since when are you on lesbian TikTok? And secondly, that's a bit... explicit... don't you think?"

"W- Our lips don't have to touch! I don't have anybody else to do it with! Y/N Come On!" he yelled after your figure who left the kitchen with a shaking head and hot cheeks.

Your thought didn't stop racing for the rest of the day. Did Owen want to kiss you? Or was he just so comfortable with your friendship that he really didn't care? You hated that you were a cliche, falling in love with your childhood best friend. Growing up you were always the one rolling your eyes at your parents who thought that you and Owen would make just such a cute couple but here you were, sitting on his couch, your heart beating in your chest and extremely conscious of his presence.

Little did you know that Owen felt the exact same. Over the years and especially puberty, he started to develop feelings for you. At first, he tried to deny them, telling himself that it's just that he's used to you being around but then he left to pursue his acting career and he missed you more than everything in the world. Not a single day went by when he didn't think of you or tried to call you. Ever since then, he tried to be close to you in one way or the other, he didn't care if it was just his leg touching yours or your body heat warming him up.

Due to the fact that you were both anxious people, neither of you ever made a move. He missed your longing stares and you missed the way he was checking you out every time he looked at you.

His friends finally talked some confidence into him and so he took little steps into what should eventually lead to him confessing his love for you. He started to flirt more with you, give you loads of compliments and asked you if you wanted to do some TikTok or lives with him.

Tapping on your shoulder made you look up from your phone, the TikTok you've been watching looping on your screen. Owen stood next to you, his phone pointed to you, a mischievous smirk prominent on his face and whipped cream can in his other hand.

"No." you tried to be serious but a chuckle escaped your lips. Owen turned the camera to him and sprayed some cream into his mouth then stared at you with squinted eyes, the whipped cream flowing out of his mouth.

You stared at him for a couple of seconds, your brain in overdrive, hands sweaty and heart beating rapidly. An idea washed over you and you tilted your head before leaning in close. Owen's eyes went wide and he nearly choked on the cream. But you weren't gonna kiss him seconds before your lips would have met, you halted. Then you slowly took the can of whipped cream out of his hand and sprayed it all over his head.

"You didn't!" he gasped with a full mouth while you laid on the floor, holding your stomach in laughter. Something wet hit your face that stopped you from laughing further. Owen had a massive grin on his face, one hand dripping slightly and his hair, less creamy.

"Be cautious Joyner" you warned standing up on your tiptoes to be as close to him as possible, your pointer finger pressing into his chest "I know where your bed sleeps."

You tried to back out of the situation, knowing damn well that it can easily get out of hand with you two and a whipped cream match would make a lot of mess. But Owen being the child he is, didn't back out, instead, he ripped the can out of your hand and sprayed it down your back.

The war ended peacefully. The cans of whipped cream, yes you found more cans, laying somewhere in the living room both of you covered from head to toe, breathing heavily. Owen held his hands up in surrender and looked up to your position on the coffee table.

"Ha! I win! Told you I didn't want to do the TikTok." you smiled triumphantly. "I say loser cleans this up." before Owen could protest you sprinted to the shower. Lucky for you he actually started to clean up when you walked out of the bathroom, dressed in comfortable sweats and one of Owens hoodie, your damp hair falling over your shoulders.

"Hey Y/N?" Owen asked somehow nervously. "Yes darling?" you answered with a bad British accent.

"Can you come here for a second?"

"Owen I'm not doing that TikTok with you, you just saw how that ended," you argued but made your way over to him. He stood in the middle of the room, his phone propped up on a shelf.

"You have something on your face." you chuckled and whipped away some dried leftovers from your previous war.

"Can you react to this song? I don't remember where I know it from" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. You furrowed your eyebrows at his odd behaviour just moments ago he was normal and now he acted very strangely.

"Sure." he pulled you in front of him, his hands resting on your shoulders.

'Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle

I can't let you go now that I got it'

“Sounds like BORNS…” you whispered more to yourself than to him and continued to listen to the song “Are you sure you just haven't…” you turned around to face him.

Owen took this as his opportunity to cup your face with both of his hands, softly pressing his lips to yours.

Your breath hitched and it took you a second to realise what was happening. The confidence Owen had just moments ago vanished when you didn't kiss him back immediately. Why should you? You never gave a hint that you liked him like that as well.

Just as he was about to pull away and apologize profusely, you overcame your state of shock. Your arms grabbed his hips to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. You felt him smile against your lips. Your stomach erupted with butterflies, your whole body tingled and your cheeks felt hot.

He was the first one to pull away, resting his forehead on yours. Both breathing heavily, the filming camera was completely forgotten, you looked in each other's eyes.

“I wanted to do that for so long,” you admitted and unconsciously bit your lip. Owen gulped heavily, “Me too but, what the hell! I mean how crazy is that?!”

#jatp fanfic #alex mercer #jatp x reader #owen joyner imagine #owen joyner fanfiction #owen joyner #owen joyner x reader #owen patrick joyner gif #owen patrick joyner #owen joyner x y/n #owen joyner fluff #owen joyner fic #owen patrick joyner x reader #owen patrick joyner fluff #owen patrick joyner imagine #julie and the phantoms

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ninyard · 3 years ago

Note

part two of the stefan/andrew au PLEASE

WELP this might not be the part two people wanted but here’s what I wanted so~ enjoy!

(Part 1 ? is here)

((this got rly long so I had to stop but if u want a third part lmk 🥺👉👈))

Neil made his first mistake by not bolting the opposite way when Coach Hernandez told him he had visitors. An Exy racquet to the chest and a single glance at those bright hazel eyes turned Neils entire world sideways in seconds. This couldn’t be happening. Neil almost couldn’t hold back the ‘Andrew?’ that wished to escape his lips. Of course, this wasn’t Stefan’s Andrew, but Neil knew that already. Life had turned Andrew Minyard into a man of manufactured emotions, a life of violence and misled decisions landing him on Coach Wymack’s pity party guest list that was the Foxes’ lineup. Andrew didn’t flinch looking at Neil, and Neil begged the universe to have erased the memory of Stefan from Andrew mind. He hung around a motel, for Christ’s sake, how many other people would he have met before and after Stefan? Neil Josten looked totally different, with puberty, hair dye and new contact lenses on his side.

The second mistake he made was not realising Kevin Day was going to be around. If Andrew wasn’t dangerous enough, Kevin was even more so. Neil couldn’t believe his eyes the moment he looked closely at the teams lineup from the previous year. Kevin Day would have forgotten Nathaniel Wesninski, he was sure of it, but to look across to a picture of the teams goalkeeper and seeing the short blond boy he met in California? It was a sure sign for Neil to stay the hell away from South Carolina.

Neil’s biggest mistake was deciding to push his luck and take a plane there to sign with the Foxes. He was signing a death wish; but he didn’t care anymore. He was a dead man walking, living off stolen hours. It was only a matter of time before someone caught up with him. His mother was dead, god, his mom, Mary Hatford, the woman who taught him how to be. It wasn’t just like Debby, who died leaving Toronto, or Alice, who died leaving London, or Judy who died on the train between Germany and Prague. This was permanent, and Neil didn’t think he could run for much longer.

Andrew didn’t say anything during their meeting, in which he had plenty of opportunities to at least look like he recognised Neil, or the features of Stefan still left on his face. Kevin didn’t say anything either, and his words made it clear he didn’t remember Nathaniel, either. Neil was walking a thing line between life and death, with Stefan on one shoulder and Nathaniel on the other, waiting to tip him over, to expose the truth, to leave him buried like his mother.

The first night Neil slept - or more so lay on the couch in silence for hours, brain filled with noise and regret - in David’s apartment, he couldn’t stop thinking about Andrew. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kid with white-blond hair and a toothy smile, who ran his fingers so gently over Stefan’s skin, like he would break if Andrew dared get any closer. He couldn’t stop thinking about the playground, and the motel, and the kisses… and the punches, the kicks, the pulling of hair, the slaps across the face with yells to accompany them. Before Neil knew it he was stuck with his face hovering over the toilet bowl, his stomach threatening to burst at any moment. After a minute of gagging and spitting into the water, Neil washed his face and headed towards the balcony that David told him to smoke on if he needed to. This was one of those needing to moments.

Weeks went by without any indication he was going to be caught. Kevin looked at him like a stupid amateur, which was good for Nathaniel’s sake, but for Neil? Neil, who fought like his life depended on the racquet in his hands? Neil, who ran like his father was hot on his heels every single time he set off down the court? It hurt him to be insulted so often, but Kevin was leagues above him when he played. Neil was never going to be good enough. Andrew avoided him as much as possible. Nicky told him that was just how Andrew was; if you brought him no benefit, or if you made him bored, he would put you on a high shelf and never look at you again. By the way Andrew only spoke to Neil when Neil stood up to Kevin, Neil thought it was obvious that Andrew didn’t recognise him.

And then came the invite to Columbia.

“Get rid of the contacts, by the way.” Nicky had brushed off the realisation like it was nothing. It sounded like ‘you have something in your teeth’ but felt like a screaming siren above Neil’s head. It felt like a punch to the gut, like a gun to his head. “Andrew’s decision. And brown, Neil? You’re so predictable and boring it’s adorable.” He’d left a bag of clothes with Neil.

When Neil looked at his blue eyes, he felt too many feelings he couldn’t describe, or name. He felt like he was looking at his father. He felt like he was looking into the mirror like he had the last time he was Nathaniel. The last time he was in Baltimore. He’d cycled through the catalogue of contacts during his time on the run, but never once went back to blue. They were the icy eyes of a murderer, not the eyes of quiet, boring Neil. But at least they weren’t green. Neil was worried about Kevin recognising him by his eyes, but it was going to be dark out by the time they left. Neil would just have to stay in the dark around Kevin, and hope he got too drunk to notice, too drunk to remember.

When Andrew’s group came to pick Neil up, there was a change in dynamic Neil hadn’t seen before. Instead of Nicky being the middle man in their conversations, or Kevin being the reason to talk, Andrew was taking charge of their night. Neil’s heart raced every time he looked into his eyes. Every time he heard that voice it told him to run, the same voice as before, only deeper, emotionless. Neil couldn’t imagine this Andrew crying. Neil couldn’t imagine this Andrew being open, about his sexuality, or his feelings. If he didn’t look almost the same only older, he would probably doubt this was even the same Andrew.

“Oh! Oh, now, that’s interesting!” Andrew had commented as Neil left his dorm room. Nicky, Aaron and Kevin had walked ahead of the two of them. When they’d disappeared around the corner into the elevator down, Andrew turned and grabbed Neil’s face to inspect it. “What a change, hmm? Blue to brown is a bit drastic for fashion, don’t you think?”

“I’ve never liked my eyes,” Neil spoke through the fingers that rested over his lips. “I’ve worn them brown most my life.” Andrew tutted as Neil spoke, but left that thought there. His features were angry, like Neil had insulted him, but he S miled like he’d been talking to his best friend. He placed a cigarette between his lips as they joined the others in the elevator.

Before long, they were walking through the doors of Eden’s Twilight, music pumping and swirling through the air, vibrating their bodies as they walked. Andrew motioned for Neil to follow him to the bar once they’d found a table.

“Shots on me.” He’d come down from his manic high, waiting for his dust adrenaline to kick in. His smile was gone, but his tone and way of speaking was still the same. “What do you drink?”

“I don’t,” Neil answered, having to yell over the music.

“Sure you do.” Andrew waved him off. “I’m being polite. What do you drink?” He asked again, as the bartender came over.

“A coke for me.” Neil told the man behind the bar before he could ask Andrew. “Just a little ice.”

“See, now, Pinocchio, when someone offers you a gift you say thank you and accept it.” Andrew turned towards the man. “Roland. This is Neil. He’s a newbie.”

“I hear you,” Roland nodded, already placing shot glasses on the tray he’d put on the bar. “My choice, with dash for the new kid.” He poured a clear spirit into eight shot glasses, and used the fountain tap to fill a larger glass with cola. Andrew passed cash over and waved off his change as a tip. Before Neil knew it he was heading through the crowd, Andrew balancing the tray on one hand held high above his head. They reached the table and nothing has spilled, and before Neil knew it, the shot glasses were stacked in a tower on the tray as Neil nursed his coke.

“You don’t drink.” Andrew turned to Neil after watching the others take to the dance floor, coming up on their high, dusting when they couldn’t be seen. “Why?”

“Hate the taste, mostly.” That would be the truth if ‘taste’ actually meant ‘feeling of being out of control of my body’. He shrugged at Andrew’s dissatisfaction with that answer.

“You come to university and you don’t drink?” Andrew scoffed. “Do you smoke?” Neil shook his head. He’d tried an edible by accident once in some cafe in Europe, and got so paranoid they had to move on that night. He swore he saw his dad staring in the windows in the red-light district, a blunt between his lips, a smile made of murder wrapped around it.

“Not for me.” Neil took a sip from the cold coke. “Hard to find when it’s not legal and I hate the cops. Takes too much effort to roll.” Neil lied, like he knew what he was talking about, but he just remembered watching people in the cities he went to, everywhere having their local stoners, the folks who sat in the parks without a care in the world.

“You don’t drink, you don’t smoke, you won’t dust.” Andrew rattled off the options. “Is it molly you’d prefer?” And when Neil shook his head again: “Psychedelics? Benzos?”

“I’m just not interested.” Neil looked into his glass, focusing on the ice. If he kept looking at Andrew he felt like he would crack. “Don’t we get tested before games anyway? What’s the point?” Andrew didn’t answer before he heading back up the bar. Neil didn’t follow this time. When he came back, there was ten shot glasses on the table. Again, eight filled with an unnamed spirit that burned Neil’s nose and twisted his stomach. The other two were cola.

“I’d hate for the new boy to feel left out.” Aaron, Nicky and Kevin had arrived back to the table for their shots. Andrew handed Neil one of his glasses. Neil knocked it back when the others did. It was ordinary coke, no surprises, no weird tastes, no reason for Neil to believe Andrew would have given him a shot of alcohol instead. That was, until he clinked glasses with the others and swallowed the second shot in a quick movement. He felt the alcohol burn his throat. It warmed his chest, but the familiar feeling wasn’t what worried him. It was the taste of salt on his tongue when he hadn’t licked any before hand. He quickly excused himself from the table and left for the bathroom.

Andrew had drugged him. He didn’t know why, but all he knew was the crackers were already coursing through his veins with deadly adrenaline. He was sure his racing heart wasn’t helping. It didn’t help, either, when Nicky reached the stairs before he did, and pulled him in for a salty, dusty kiss. Neil pushed him off as discreetly as he could.

“Nothing?” Nicky complained as he Neil bounced up the sticky stairs two steps at a time. Neil was sure he heard him say something about Neil being too hot to be straight, but the roaring anxiety in his ears was enough to drown it out. He locked himself in a stall and tried to best to throw up. He hadn’t eaten before he’d left, and he hadn’t drank anything other than he soda, so his attempts were fairly futile. A knock at the door interrupted him, and when he answered with a quick ‘occupied!’ He heard the door unlocking from the outside. Andrew pushed his way into the cramped stall and shut the door behind him. Before Neil could even begin to object Andrew had grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall, Neil struggling to keep his balance with the toilet in the way.

“You don’t like the taste of alcohol or you’re afraid of losing control? Telling your truths?” Andrew’s drug induced smile had returned with mischief and malice. “Let’s see how this does!” His voice was low as he spoke, with an enthusiasm to his words that made Neil sweat. When he went to protest, Andrew covered his mouth with his free hand.

“Shut up,” He clicked his tongue. “You have spent your entire extended stay here lying to me and lying to poor, gullible Coach. I see the way you look at Kevin, too. Either you’re lying about not swinging or there’s something deeper to that intimidation.” Neil tried to get out a ‘I don’t swing.’ Before Andrew shushed him again. “Don’t keep lying, newbie! One last chance at honesty.” He lifted his hand no more than an inch from Neil’s mouth. Neil was sweating, his hands shaky, his mind turning into fog, desperate to cling to any sort of euphoria it could find. When it’s search came up empty, it filled his stomach, his head, his hands, his feet, with anxious buzzing instead. He couldn’t ignore the nauseating feelings the drugs brought with them.

“I don’t swing,” Neil stood his ground. “I don’t.” Andrew brought his hand up to Neils hair and yanked him down to his level, hard. He kept an inescapable grip in his curls as their faces almost touched.

“Still don’t know?” Andrew pouted in fake-pity. “Ten years later and you still don’t know?” Neil’s stomach would’ve fallen from his body if it’s got the chance. His heart would’ve went with it when Andrew continued. “There better be a good reason for Neil existing, Stefan, and I can’t wait to hear it.”

“What?” He tried, but it was no use. His voice failed him, cracking as the futile attempts at lying left his lips. “I don’t know what-“

“Shut up.” Andrew repeated. His grip not relaxing. Neil was worried he was pulling his hair from the root, but that was probably the least of his worries. Probably. “Do not lie to me again.” Neil searched his eyes for a sliver of doubt. A tiny, tiny possibility that he might think he was wrong. It wasn’t there. He’d been caught.

“Andrew.” He wrapped his hands around Andrew’s wrist, the one hovering over his head, muscles tense from the grip on his head. “Can we talk without ripping my fucking hair out?”

Before Neil could react, Andrew had let go of his hair, but in doing so, had swung his head with full force into the side walls of the stall. His balance finally failed him, but Andrew caught him by the neck of the black turtleneck he’d been gifted. He heard a few stitches pop, but it didn’t matter. The sudden movements turned Neil’s stomach with a violent wave, and he gagged hard, his stomach threatening to come out his mouth. He leaned over to spit into the toilet and bared his teeth at Andrew, breathing heavily through them.

“So he lives,” Andrew smiled, his pupils blown, a white-knuckled hold on Stefan-Neil’s collar. Neil was afraid he was going to pass out. His body was on fire, his mind screaming like an emergency broadcast alarm. “Tell me you didn’t know, oh humour me! I’d hate to think you’re stupid enough to come here still in possession of the memory from there.”

“I didn’t think you’d remember.” Neil didn’t break eye contact.

“So you ARE that stupid!” Andrew pushed him back, letting go of his top. Neil tried to assess his escape routes, but it was no use. He couldn’t get out of this. “I remembered little Stefan the second Kevin showed me your file. I didn’t think it would be you, surely it couldn’t be, but our little visit to fuckport, Arizona couldn’t lie to me like you did. So is it Neil, or is it Stefan?”

“Neither.” He spat out the honesty, worried if he waited, another lie would take it’s place. “But you can call me Neil.”

“Oh, no, no!” Andrew grabbed him by the neck, holding his jaw in a way that could become a choke very quickly. “Maybe I’ll stick with Stefan. You don’t get a say. You know, I thought mommy killed you.” A knife twisted in Neil’s gut.

“She’s dead.” Neil tried to breath through his unwanted come-up. “That’s the only reason I’m here. Because she wasn’t alive to stop me.”

“Did you do it?” He held Neils face like the world would end if he let go. He held even tighter when Neil tried to pull away.

“No.” That was all he said. He thought about continuing, considering the fact he was a dead man already. But he stopped himself. How could he say it was his dad without saying he was the mafias right-hand-murderer? Was he wasting his time lying?

“Didn’t think you did.” Andrew laughed, barely even blinking as he intimidated Neil. “No balls then, no balls now.”

“I was twelve.” He spat through crushed cheeks. “We were kids.”

“Old enough to be a liar.” Andrew let go of Neil’s face with a forceful push and turned to open the stall door. “You’re going to lead us outside. If you deviate or try to run I’ll kill you. I will kill you.” So Neil did just that. He led the way in silence, down the stairs and towards the exit. When Nicky stopped and excitedly asked where they were going, Neil looked back to Andrew who waved his pack of cigarettes, a smile on his face, no essence of a lie present. Neil just kept walking, kept his head down, and tried to ignore the pain on the side of his head. When they reached the outside of the club, the brisk air biting their exposed skin, Neil turned to the first man he saw, a club-goer at the top of the queue, and swung a punch up. Andrew noticed the second his hands left his sides, balled up with a plan. The man threw a hefty punch back, shouting intimidations, knocking Neil’s short frame to the ground. As quick as humanly possible, Andrew had hoisted him up, wrapped his arms around his back and twisted his wrist in such a way that a single jolt would break it. He held him in that position with one hand, putting all his strength into keeping Neil still.

“He gets crazy on tequila!” Andrew laughed, shaking his head as he took out his wallet and pulled out a fifty note. He threw it at the guy as compensation, his friends holding him back from beating Neil’s vulnerable, ballsy ass. He continued yelling as Andrew hauled him away. He grunted in pain as he refused to loosen his grip on Neil’s wrists. He walked him around the back of the club, to an empty, barely lit parking lot. He threw him to the ground so quickly he didn’t have time to stop his fall.

“Every moment I spend around you, you prove you’re much fucking dumber than I thought.” Andrew spat down, then crouching down to Neil’s level, balancing on the tops of his feet. Neil cradled his head, arms wrapped around the nape of his neck. He was sure he had a concussion. He could barely open his eyes through the pulsing blood rushing through his head, but forced himself to, to look up at Andrew’s smiling face.

“What happened?” Spit dripped down his chin, blood slowly trickling from the busted lip he’d earned himself. “What happened to that Andrew?” Andrew froze for half a second, and Neil noticed. “The Andrew who cried because he was gay? The kid who actually fucking cared about anything?”

“Oh, you are treading thin fucking ice for someone who doesn’t know how to swim.” Andrew tilted his head. “Mention another precious memory and I won’t hesitate to actually break your wrist next time.”

“Why?” He spat blood at Andrew’s feet. “Afraid somebody might remember what you’re actually like when you’re not pretending to be a sociopath?” Andrew opened his mouth at the challenge, a smile creeping up one side of his face. “Are you afraid to actually have someone around you know anything about you? I’m a threat. That’s all you care about.” He continued. “What, do you think I’ll use it against you? You’ve been treating me like shit since we met. If I was going to stab you in the back I’d have done it already, asshole.”

“Since we met, again.” He corrected the most irrelevant part of Neils sentiment.

“Let me go now and I’ll move on. You won’t ever see me again.” Neil bargained. Andrew’s eyebrows twitched ever so slightly. “This time I’ll get a chance to say goodbye.”

“No,” Andrew stopped him. “You don’t get to arrive in to my life like a tornado and disappear. You don’t get to dig your own grave and push me into it.” He bent down to get closer to Neils shaking face. “You’re going to tell me exactly what happened first. Tell me what she did to you.”

“No.” Neil strained. “I moved on. You were dangerous. You almost got me killed.”

“Boohoo, do you hear my tiny violin, liar?” Andrew grabbed a hold of his hair again. Neil let out a cry of pain, trying to pry Andrew’s fingers from his scalp. “Talk. Talk or I will get you killed.”

“My father is a very dangerous man. He’s murdered more people than there are days in a year.” Neil wiped the blood from his lips. It stung as he did so, but it didn’t matter. He took out a small stack of IDs from his wallet and threw them across to Andrew. For a second, anyone would’ve thought they were real, but closer inspection killed that thought. Andrew was holding a driver’s license belonging to Chris Angle, 21, from New York. A European passport card signed by George Debois from Paris. A gym membership from Seattle, an employee pass from Toronto, two more drivers licenses from cities across the globe. All the names were different, but they didn’t belong to different people. They all had pictures of Neil on them. Some he had long hair, short hair, an unfortunate buzz-cut. He wore a beard in some, the baby face of a teenager in others. “You aren’t the only one I’ve lied to. Don’t think you’re special.” Andrew snapped the IDs with angry force. Neil took a deep breath, knowing the last memories of his mother were buried in the face of Christopher Hart, snapped in half, just like that. He continued searching through his wallet. Deep into the card pockets of the tattered leather. He didn’t look up when he heard Andrew drop the scraps of his identities on the ground. Neil found what he was looking for and threw it again, across the space separating them, it clattering by his feet. “If my mom found that she’d have killed me herself. We ran so she could protect me. I made that so much harder on her by meeting you.” Andrew inspected the card he’d been thrown. An under-eye twitch and a slow inhale accompanied his realisation. “You want to hate me for what she made me do, fine, but it was inevitable. You were never going to be the reason that made us stay.”

Neil had given Andrew something he couldn’t bare to part with. His old wallet stayed buried deep, deep in his belongings, so well hidden his mother hadn’t even known it existed. He usually kept his current IDs on his person, and never in a wallet. It was a ticking time bomb, but Neil needed something. He needed a reason to feel, and if that was the memory of the good day his mom had had when they finally showered after weeks of baby wipes and deodorant, it was something to hold on to. Neil had to stay grounded in some sort of reality. He was on the run, sure, but the people he met, the things he’d done? They were real. It hurt to see those memories snapped on the ground like trash, but Andrew didn’t snap the memory he held in his hands.

Andrew held the library card of Stefan Montgomery. It had a faded black and white photo on it, scratched out with time. He had begged the librarian to let him have the card without taking a picture, but she had insisted it was necessary so people didn’t have more than one. In the photo was a scared little boy, a gash on his cheek, with crispy curls and a skinny face. Neil remembered walking to the library when he couldn’t find Andrew, taking out books to help him learn any of the languages he needed to know. The library in Oakland taught him about the history of Spain, and the culture in France. There was something about Stefan that Neil didn’t want to forget. He’d kept that library card safe as if it were a lifeline, like he knew it would come in handy some day.

And then Andrew threw it across the empty parking lot like a frisbee.

“She didn’t see anything.” Neil tried, as if it would help. “We left because I made a friend. Not because… you know.”

“I was not your friend.” Andrew stood up and put a cigarette between his teeth. He lit it, one puff, two puff, three puffs until it burned red. “I was never your friend.”

“You were.” Neil struggled to stand up and join him. “Don’t lie to a liar.”

“You remember it wrong!” He took a short drag and flicked ash as he spoke. “You were a toy to play with when there was nothing else to do.”

“You could’ve went home.” Neil took the cigarette from Andrew’s fingers. “But hey, I wasn’t the only one who needed to escape heavy hands, right?” He pulled the smoke into his lungs and breathed out before flicking the barely smoked cigarette away. “You were my friend. You had Stefan killed because I cared about you when Stefan wasn’t supposed to care about anybody.”

“Be quiet.” Andrew pulled another cigarette from the packet and squared up to Neil who was standing so close he could feel Andrew’s breath hot on his face. “You didn’t care.”

“Are you listening?” Neil spat again, the heat of the cigarette having hurt his cracked lips. “We left because of you. Because I let you in, and I’m sorry you were collateral damage in our war against the world but fuck, we didn’t have a choice. Do you think I wanted to leave? I was going to leave you a note, but she wouldn’t leave my side until we were in another city and Stefan was just another name in the pile. Fuck you if you don’t want to believe that. I don’t owe you an explanation but you’ve got one anyway. Tell me to leave and I’ll go. Tell me you understand and I’ll go, Andrew.”

“I waited for you.” Andrew exhaled honestly through cigarette smoke. “Every day! The fourth day I tried knocking on the door of your motel room. Fifth day a random couple opened the door and I knew you weren’t coming back. Why should I give you another chance, hmm? When you so easily could run away before, who’s to say you won’t do it again?”

“I’m not asking for another chance,” Neil head was pounding. He felt like he could pass out, his ears ringing and body jittery. “I don’t know, maybe I’m asking you to remember what I meant to you.” Andrew pursed his lips at that. He was struggling to keep his composure, like the memory of before was chipping away slowly at this version of Andrew. He was holding himself together with twitches and small fidgets.

“I hate you.” He said, coldly. He had lit his cigarette and smoked through half of it before speaking again. Neil just stood, suddenly thinking about if Kevin were to find the IDs scattered on the floor. He didn’t even think he could lie to Nicky about that. He would pick them up in a moment, but he couldn’t afford to lose Andrew’s interest in the conversation. If Neil got distracted now he could ruin every chance he possible had at reconciling some sort of relationship with Andrew.

“I hate what the world has turned you into.” Andrew snorted a laugh at Neil’s dramatics.

“Oh, you are a pipe bomb.” Andrew started to walk away, but when Neil grabbed his arm to stop him, in a quicker movement he had twisted Neil’s arm in some sort of self defence move that hurt. “You don’t have a right to touch me anymore. Keep your lying hands to yourself or I’ll break every one of your fingers.” He didn’t let go immediately.

“Do you miss it?” Neil searched Andrew’s eyes for something, anything. “Being vulnerable? Being comforted instead of being alone, blaming the world for your problems?” Before Neil could even think to keep going, Andrew had used his free hand to manoeuvre a knife from his arm bands and hold it up to Neil’s face.

“I dare you to keep pushing.” His words were casual, but a threat nonetheless. “Stop trying to control a life you left. I won’t be a scratching post for your mommy issues, runaway.”

“What did Jakub do to you?” Neil brought a memory out from the depths. As soon as the name left his lips, Andrew’s entire body hardened and his eyes turned to glass. He slashed a cut into Neil’s cheekbone without hesitation and proceeded to let go of his arm and jam a thumb into the fresh wound. “Why did you spend your childhood alone in a playground?” Neil spoke through gritted teeth.

“If you want to keep your fantasy alive I advise you to really shut up now.” Andrew pushed him backwards, a final squeeze in the gash as he did so. Even more blood dripped down his face. Andrew wiped his hands in his pants and picked up the ignored cigarette he’d dropped in the altercation. “You are going in circles. This is your last warning.”

“My mom nearly broke half the bones in my body trying to get rid of the memory of you.” Neil took his spot back up so close to Andrews face he could practically see every one of the pores in his face. He still had freckles scattered across his face, his skin soft, with faint acne scars here and there across his cheeks. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

“You should have.” Andrew threw his cigarette at Neil. “Make your choice. Run like you’re used to.” He looked him up and down one more time and turned on his feet back towards the club. Neil didn’t follow. He started to pick up the remnants of his past and he felt his nose ache in psychosomatic pain, remembering a nose-breaking punch his mother threw when Neil dared asked if they could stay. He spat again, still trying to get the salty taste out of his mouth. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold onto the shards of plastic evidence of who he used to. After picking them all up he had to stop, and sit down. He was afraid he was having a panic attack, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the drugs still ravishing his system, or if it was because of Andrew. Maybe it was both. It probably was. He didn’t think he could’ve spoken the truth if he wasn’t high, but God, if he were sober it would’ve been so much easier to run. High Neil was emotional Neil, empathetic Neil, hurt Neil. He’d only had the experience of being really, genuinely high a few times, and every single time just reminded him how much he hated the feeling of being out of control. Of his nerves, his feelings, every fibre in his being misfiring and doing the opposite to what he wanted. His brain was begging him to feel the chemicals it was pumping out, but all it did was amplifying the aching feeling in his chest. He let out a noise that didn’t quite resemble a cry, or a sigh, or a grunt. It was a noise born from pain, a mixture of anxiety and heartbreak, maybe. He wasn’t sure what that felt like. Maybe this was it.

He tried to steady his breath and he stumbled across the empty lot. The booming bass from the music at Eden’s practically shook the ground as he walked, at least, it sure felt like it did. He stumbled as he reached down to pick up the library card so carelessly thrown away. It hurt him even more looking at Stefan, feeling this pang in his stomach that wished things could’ve been different. He didn’t think he liked Andrew like that, and being on the same team was just the destruction of a childhood crush. Neil tried to come up with excuses in his head to how Andrew felt, but it was obvious he had thrown Stefan into the bad memories pile a long, long time ago. Neil showing up again just ripped through Andrew’s closure, and knowing he had feelings beneath what he showed, he was probably hurting too. It didn’t seem like it, but maybe he was. Neil had put the ID away, and looked around. He had no real idea where he was, or how to get home. Before he knew it, he was sprinting away from the club, going nowhere, going anywhere but there. His head wasn’t in a place to decide that he should stay. He’s worth it. His heart raced at the thought of Andrew’s face, looking down at the long unused library card. He’s worth it. Neil couldn’t look back. He was wondering what Andrew was telling the others, and if they would believe him. He wondered if he’d told Nicky about Neil’s Idontknow sexuality, and that’s why Nicky thought it okay to kiss him. But he didn’t feel anything with Nicky. He didn’t look at anyone in the way he looked at Andrew. He ran and ran and ran until he’d sweat out the drugs, until his head was more focused on trying to breathe than it was on Andrew, and his mom. It took a while, and he was lost when he stopped. Unfamiliar streets, him a stranger in someone else’s hometown. Maybe that made things worse. This feeling was too familiar. Lost, lost, lost. Sometimes lost became familiar, became home. He didn’t think he could be un-lost again.

Part 3

#this is about older andy n Neil #so pls send an ask if u want more of them when they were young #cos I love Stefan + Andrew #Andrew minyard #Neil josten #andreil #tfc #aftg #the foxhole court #all for the game #andreil hc #just want ppl to read this bc I’m really happy with it :(

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0littlestwolf0 · 3 years ago

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Yandere! Jason Grace Headcannons

Ship: Yandere! Jason Grace x Reader

Warnings: None, just some possessive behavior

Requested by: @seafoamandnereids

Jason never had much, he didn’t know much about himself either. Not a clue about his mortal mother or if he had any half siblings.

He got to Lupa’s with nothing, only carrying experience and trauma to New Rome.

And trust me, he was scared, after all, he was just a kid, a little boy whose mother had left him.

He chose to join the fifth cohort in an attempt to escape his destiny and bring it honor.

He thought everything would be just okay as long as he followed the rules, after all, he had nothing left to lose.

And there you were, with a big grin and two missing teeth, just smiling at him so confidently he wondered how long you’d been there.

Jason didn’t pay you much mind at that moment, he got to know everyone and went straight to his bed.

Until the nightmares came.

Awful, terrifying, demigod dreams.

He got up and wandered around, that’s when he saw you, hugging your knees and with your back pressed against a wall.

“Are you okay?” He wanted to smack himself, of course you weren’t.

“Yeah, just nightmares” how could you be so peachy? “You?”

He just nodded, his eyes looking for any sign of breaking in your face, he found none and realized that of course he wouldn’t, you had also been trained by Lupa, and surviving meant showing no weakness.

“Stop it” you said “We’re not in the wolf house anymore” your voice was sweet, really sweet.

“I’m okay” was all he said, and you sighed.

You began telling him about life in there and he marveled at your way of finding good in the bad.

He made a silly comment at some point and you laughed, a small, true, beautiful laugh that he wanted to bottle and save for the end of time.

Neither of you can remember who reached the other’s side first but in the morning you were both in the same side, heads supporting each other.

The two of you weren’t exactly attached at the hip, but close, his eyes would always wander until he found you, safe, sound, and with your attention on him.

It was innocent enough, just two kids seeking comfort in one another’s presence.

Until your birthday, someone in your Cohort had made you a small vanilla cake, with as much candles as the years you were turning.

You asked Jason about his birthday and he said he had none, he couldn’t remember it.

He will never forget the way you dragged him to your cake and ripped all but two candles from it.

You decided to share your birthday with him, the thought warmed his heart so he smiled and told you that it wasn’t necessary to which you only said “Happy birthday Jason”

And his eyes watered, he hugged you right there, so tight you thought you wouldn’t be able to breath, just as you were about to say something you felt him sobbing.

You both were alone in there, probably the reason why he allowed himself to be vulnerable, so you held him just as tight.

“I’m not leaving you” you whispered “not ever” he only gripped you tighter.

At the time to blow out the candles you urged him to make a wish, and seeing your face, so warm and sweet he made his wish. To keep you, forever.

He didn’t like you having any other friends, don’t get me wrong, he’s confident in himself but he doesn’t want to share a single laugh of yours.

At first he hated anyone who tried to be your friend, but he never did much, other than sending him cold stares and the ocasional shove using the wind.

He uses a nickname for you, not a pet name, just a simplified version of your name, one that only he gets to use.

And trust me, he finds great pride in that.

One day, when you were thirteen he left for a mission.

It took him two months, but he had to do it alone, everyday thinking about you.

He knew that you wouldn’t replace him, he was your best friend after all.

But when he came back you were different, and so was he.

It might not have been long enough for puberty to hit you, but it was enough for him to notice the changes from back when he met you.

He already knew you were everything he had, but one day with you after the mission and he realized you were all he could ever want.

Never once allowing himself to wonder wether it was wrong or not, the way he wanted you all for himself.

Soon enough he had developed a little glitch, sometimes when he shook someone’s hand he’d zap them.

No one ever realized it only happened to boys that tried getting to know you.

As soon as he became preator he did everything right, everything to get the council to trust him.

But then again, he could barely see you with his new post, and that new kid was always following you around.

Until one day, he alone witnessed the death of Reyna, too traumatized to trust anyone with her charge but you.

And so, everything was fixed, now you didn’t have time for anyone but him.

And he would never let you go.

After all, he has always been really clever, planning months ahead for a single move.

You, as smart as you were, couldn’t see through him, he was just so trustworthy, so nice to you.

#heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #jason grace #yandere jason grace #jason grace x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #Yandere

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years ago

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Birch (Centaur)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Female Human/Male Centaur Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Centaur, Reader Insert Content Warnings: Communication Disorder, Social Communication Disorder, Anxiety, Autism, Autistic Reader, Semi-Verbal Autism, Semi-Verbal Reader, Overbearing Mother, Verbal Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Ableism Series: Shelter Forest Words: 4758

Commissioned by an anonymous party, Birch finally gets his own story! The reader, who has a communication disorder, meets and somehow befriends a beautiful centaur named Birch, who lives in the woods with his family and is known throughout the town as being a bit of a playboy and a flirt. When he realizes how poorly the reader is treated by her mother, he immediately tries to rescue her. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

You first saw him when you were thirteen year old. You and your mother came to Coleville to beg for work after your father had kicked you both out of the house for another woman. You and your mother worked in the laundry and kitchen of the town’s most popular tavern, washing bed sheets and tableware, so you hadn’t really had the chance to meet him when he came into town to trade. You were only ever able to watch him from a distance

He was massive, friendly, and beautiful. His horse body was the size and color of a buckskin Andalusian, with a pale tan body fur and black socks. His skin was suntanned from working in the fields of his home farm and he always wore a simply-made tunic. His hair was short and black, and his tail was long and black, but his eyes were a bright, clear blue. He smiled easily and seemed to get along with everyone. You fell in love with him as soon as you laid eyes on him.

Well, no, you knew even then that it wasn’t love, it was just fascination and infatuation, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were overjoyed every time you saw him. Not that he’d ever notice you. You were just a plain, poor, chubby laundress with red, chapped hands and a future of working in a tavern for the rest of your life. Why would he even glance at you?

You wouldn’t be able to speak to him, even if he did. You were terribly shy and timid. You’d always been that way and couldn’t help it. Talking to people, looking them in the eye, facing confrontation, it all made you terrified and shaky. You barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t your parents, although you really didn’t speak to them that much, either. You were sure the most used word in your vocabulary was sorry.

When you were younger, your parents had hoped you’d grow out of it, but you never did. Once you hit puberty and was still unable to speak, your mother began to despair of you, pushing you to talk and berating you when you couldn’t, which only made you withdraw more. You couldn’t blame her for being exasperated with you; you were just as frustrated with yourself as she was. She never said it, but you knew she blamed you for your father rejecting you both.

Even though Birch usually came alone, you were sure he must already be married or have a lover, though he was openly flirtatious. You knew he’d had a few girls in town on occasion, having overheard them bragging about their nights with him, though they all seemed to be one-night trysts or affairs that didn’t last long. Perhaps he wasn’t even interested in settling down with anyone and was the playboy type. He was gorgeous enough for it.

Once or twice, he came to town with his family members or to visit family members who had settled here, like his brother Cetzu, the lizardfolk man running the orphanage with his wife. They were all a strange lot: some were human, most were not. You only ever saw one other centaur, and he looked nothing like Birch; he was a younger, smaller piebald named Yew with black skin, white hair, and pale eyes. You’d heard rumors that there was a mixed family in the woods, living on a farm, and that they were all sorts, but it didn’t really seem real to you until you saw them all together.

He’d come to town one day to buy seeds and supplies and came into the tavern for a drink. For centaurs, alcohol was basically food to them, so they drank heavily and often. A lot of centaurs you’d known got pretty rowdy, but Birch was always mindful. He held his ale well and knew when to stop before getting fully inebriated, careful not to make an ass of himself. He was considerate. You liked that about him.

You were working in the kitchens at the time when he arrived, and he sat at one of the tables designed for four-legged folk. It was a long table with no chairs or benches, but flat cushions instead. He folded his legs under him and flagged the waitress, smiling his dazzling smile, and ordered ale and some roasted vegetables. You were neglecting your work, but even if it was just a few seconds, you wanted to commit his image to memory as often as you could.

“Oi!” The waitress, Cathy, hissed as she came toward the door of the kitchen to put in Birch’s order. “What are you doing?!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” You said, barely audibly.

“Go take him his ale,” She said. “We’re understaffed. If you’re going to be in the way, the least you can do is be useful.”

“I…!" You protested, but she pushed past you into the kitchen to yell at the cook. With you heart in your throat, you rushed to fill a clean tankard and skittered it over, setting it down on the table in front of him without looking at him.

“Ah, that was fast,” Birch said, his voice deep, rich, and wonderful to the ear. “You’re a lovely little thing. Are you new, sweet pea? I haven’t seen you in the tavern before.”

You looked down at the ground and didn’t answer. You weren’t sure what to do, whether to stay and try to be friendly, or retreat back to the kitchen, so you were frozen there with indecision, looking at the floor.

“Hey now, don’t be shy, love. I don’t bite,” He said, you assumed in an attempt to be flirty, reaching for your hand. You snatched your hand away impulsively and ran back to the kitchen.

Your heart was racing and your mind reeling. Why did I do that? You thought, covering your face with your hands. He probably thinks I’m crazy or a complete shrew! I should never leave the back rooms again and just stick to washing dishes.

After a few moments, though, your mother pulled you away from washing by the arm.

“What did you do?” She asked angrily. “One of the customers is asking for you!”

You panicked. “I… I just… I brought him his drink…” You whispered in terror.

“Come on,” She gripped your arm and pulled you back out into the tavern common room, where Birch was still sitting. He looked at you with a frown. Oh god, he looks annoyed, you thought nervously.

“Miss,” He said, and you stared at your feet, unable to look up. “I think I may have frightened or upset you. I’m sorry, I sometimes forget that not everyone is receptive to my personality or sense of humor.”

You were completely unable to speak and kept your head down, your shoulders hunched.

“Say something!” Your mother hissed at you, and you could only shrink into yourself further. “I’m sorry, sir,” Your mother said in exasperation. “My daughter is as timid as a field mouse. She can’t speak to other people and she never looks people in the eye. She can barely even speak to me. She’s always been like this.”

“Oh,” He said, sounding concerned. “Is she unwell?”

“Probably,” Your mother replied in annoyance, and you pulled away even further. “Though the doctors can’t tell us what’s wrong with her. She usually stays in the kitchen and laundry away from the customers. I don’t know what possessed her to come out here and bother you.”

“C… Ca…” You stuttered, struggling to speak in your defense, looking back toward the kitchen, where Cathy was hovering by the door.

“Oh, did Cathy ask you to bring me my drink?” He asked kindly.

You nodded fervently.

“I understand. I’m sorry that she put you in an uncomfortable situation, and I apologize for making it worse.”

Your mother sighed wearily. “Sir, don’t apologize to her. It’s not your fault that she can’t function like a normal adult.”

That hurt. You were on the verge of tears and hugged your arms around yourself, desperately wanting to escape back to the kitchen.

“Even so,” He said, his voice cold, but softened when he addressed you. “I’m very sorry, miss.”

You nodded once and shuffled quickly back to the kitchen, unable to keep the tears from falling. Your mother rejoined you a few minutes later.

“You could have at least apologized to him,” He said, taking the plates as you washed them to rinse them off and put them in the rack. “Why do you have to embarrass me like that? How hard is it to say ‘thank you’ or ‘I’m sorry’?” She sighed sharply and wiped her hands. “Don’t you dare get us fired.” And she walked off, leaving you weeping into the dishwater.

Cathy heard the entire thing and came over sheepishly.

“Hey… I’m sorry I got you in trouble with your ma,” She said. “I forgot about the speaking thing. I was just in a rush and I didn’t think.”

You shook your head. Cathy was the one person who you might call a friend. She was a little brusque and had a short fuse, but she was one of the few who didn’t make fun of your stuttering and silence or look down their nose at you.

“Listen, Birch is a really nice guy. He plays around and has his fun with the girls, but he’s never hurt anyone on purpose. He wasn’t trying to make fun of you or make you feel bad.”

You nodded shortly. You knew that. He was being friendly; that’s just how he talked to people. But being humiliated in front of him was a torture unlike anything you’d felt before, and it hurt.

The next day, you were feeding the chickens in the coop outside of the tavern when you looked up and saw him exiting the tavern. He noticed you right away, and you turned immediately and tried to flee.

“Hey, wait!” He called. “Wait, please!”

You stood with your back to him but you stayed put. You heard him trotting up to you, his hoof-beats heavy.

“Hey, listen, I wanted to apologize again,” He said. “To just you this time. I don’t know what your mother’s problem is, but what she said… that was uncalled for. You didn’t deserve that.”

You turned to face him but you didn’t look up, focusing instead on his large hooves. You shook your head. No, he was wrong. You did deserve it.

“You can’t help how you are,” He said. “It’s not your fault. I have a little brother who has trouble talking to people, too. It’s the exact opposite of your problem; he says exactly what’s on his mind with no filter. He can’t control it and it embarrasses him sometimes. It’s not the same, I know, but I understand that it can be hard.”

He was so nice. You were able to lift your head a little, but you still couldn’t look him in the face.

“My name is Birch,” He said. “What’s yours?”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out, so you shut it again.

“Hmm,” He hummed. “Can you write?”

You shook your head.

“Um… sign language?”

You answered no again.

“I see,” He said, sighing. “I… I’ll be honest… I don’t want to leave you here with that mother of yours. I’m not sure what kind of relationship you have with her, but the way she talks to you…” He pawed the ground in annoyance. “It bothers me. Does she do that a lot? Make fun of you in front of other people?”

You shrugged, embarrassed.

He sidestepped in an anxious way and swished his tail. “I have to go back home later today,” He said. “Are… are you going to be okay?”

You nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod.

“Well… alright,” He said. “Look, um… if you ever need to… you know… leave this place, talk to Cathy. She knows where my family’s farm is. She can help you get there. If you need to.”

You nodded again, and he turned to leave, but an unfamiliar impulse compelled you to rush forward and take hold of the hem of his tunic. He stopped and looked at you, though he could only see the top of your head.

“Th…” You gulped, your throat dry, your heart beating in your throat. “Tha… ank…you…” You managed to choke out. “H… Haz…zel…”

“You’re name is Hazel?” He asked, a smile in his voice.

You nodded emphatically.

You felt him put a hand on top of your head and and sort of rubbed his fingers against your scalp. It felt nice, even though you weren’t used to physical touch. Your mother wasn’t exactly the affectionate sort.

“You take care, okay?” He said, taking his hand back. “I’ll be back in a few days. I look forward to seeing you again.”

That evening, you were in the room you shared with your mother as she brushed her hair for bed when she mentioned nonchalantly, “I saw you with that centaur man today. What did he say to you?”

“...he… nothing…” You said vaguely.

“Then why did he touch you? And why were you touching him?” She asked, her voice flat.

“I…” You gulped. “I… don’t know…” You said truthfully.

“Oh, really? You don’t know? You don’t know why a man like him would touch you? You know his reputation in this town. He’s trying to take advantage of you because you're simple.”

“He was… just… being nice…” You said softly.

Your mother snorted. “Men aren’t nice without a reason. I thought you’d know that by now.” She threw down her hairbrush onto the night table and lay down in your shared bed. “You’re not going to have anything to do with him from now on, do you understand? It shouldn’t be difficult for you to manage that, should it?”

You didn’t say anything, just sat at the table and stared into the fire.

“It’s for your own good,” She said, facing away from you. “I know I’m strict with you, but… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You have no problem with me getting hurt when you’re the one doing it, you thought to yourself, but you couldn’t say it. You knew she was right, though. He was a flirt and a bit of a libertine, and you thought that perhaps he was only being nice to you because he saw you as low hanging fruit. It hurt to think of him that way, but it was the only thing that made sense.

He did return in a few days, an older woman riding on his back. She was lovely, even at her age, and was wearing trousers and a practical shirt, but no bodice or ladies coat. Her brown hair was caught back in a tight braid, a few strands of grey weaved in and out.

You saw them arrive from the window of your room as you were getting ready for the day. He was as handsome as always, and you watched him wistfully. As if he could sense you, he looked up and saw you at the window. He smiled at you and waved. Remembering what your mother said, you were unable to smile back and walked away from the window without acknowledging him. You hoped he wouldn’t be too angry at you.

Before you could start work in the laundry, Cathy called you out.

“Birch and his mother are here,” She said, keeping her voice down so that your mother wouldn’t hear. “They want to see you.”

“I cant…” You said in your normal whisper. “Mama will be angry…”

“Don’t worry about your ma right now,” Cathy said dismissively. “You don’t deserve the shit she gives you, you’re just too shy to tell her off. Just go see what they want. Maybe it’s a chance to get out from under her thumb.”

You had to admit, you did wish for that. You loved your mother, and she loved you in her own way, but you knew she resented you and it was just… exhausting, dealing with her reproachfulness and cutting words every day. You were just too scared to leave on your own.

You thought long and hard about it, looking around to see if your mother was anywhere near. When you didn’t see her, you looked up at Cathy, looking just past her behind her ear instead of at her face, and nodded. She took you by the hand and led you out to the dining area. Birch and his mother were sitting at the four-legged table, with his mother having dragged over a chair to sit with him comfortably.

“Oh, good, there you are,” Birch said. “When you didn’t react this morning, I was worried something had happened. Mama, this is the young woman I was telling you about.”

He told his mother about you? Why?

“I see, I see,” The older woman said. “My name is Ryel, I’m Birch’s mother. Your name is Hazel, right?”

You nodded, unable to look up.

“Goodness, you are rather shy, aren’t you, dear?” She said sympathetically. You chewed your lip, unable to respond. “My son tells me you’re illiterate, is that correct?”

You nodded.

“I imagine that makes communicating with other people very difficult,” She said.

You nodded again.

“So, how about this?” She said, leaning forward. “Why don’t you come to the farm with me for the summer? I’ll teach you how to read and write, and in exchange, you help me out around the farm. How does that sound?”

For the first time in your life, you were surprised into looking someone in the face. She was smiling warmly at you

“I’m getting older and I could use an assistant. My children all have their own work and families to look after and I’d feel as if I were taking advantage of them if I expected them to follow me around and help me all day.”

“Mama, you know we’d do it happily,” Birch said.

“I know that,” She said, hushing him. “Even still, I’d prefer to hire someone for the task, and if I can help them at the same time, why shouldn’t I?” She leaned forward. “What do you say, dear?”

This is exactly what you wanted. A job that was away from your mom. This was your chance. You opened your mouth, as if to answer, when you heard a sharp voice behind you.

“Hazel!” Your mother said, irate, and stalked out of the kitchen toward you, grabbing you by the arm. “Stop bothering these people! Get back to the laundry.”

Birch’s back leg kicked slightly in irritation, thumping the wood of the floor, but Ryel kept her composure.

“She’s not bothering us in the least, madam,” She said calmly. “I’ve actually come here to offer her a job.”

Your mother scoffed. “A job? Doing what?”

“As my assistant,” Ryel said. “I’m a jack of all trades type, you might say, and I’m willing to take her on in exchange for room and board, plus an education.”

“You’re wasting your time,” Your mother said, her grip rather strong on your arm. “My daughter is not capable of making her own decisions.”

“How old is your daughter?” Ryel asked.

“She’s nineteen,” Your mother replied. “But I’m afraid she’s a bit slow. Trying to teach her wouldn’t benefit either of you.”

You frowned, upset. That wasn’t true, you weren’t slow. In fact, you thought you learned rather quickly, you’d just hadn’t had the chance to learn very many new things.

“Be that as it may,” Ryel replied, her voice still even. “Your daughter is an adult and has the right to choose what she wants.”

“Nonsense,” Your mother said. “Besides, even if I allowed this, I don’t want her anywhere near him.” She jerked her chin toward Birch.

Birch bristled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I know what kind of man you are,” She hissed. “How many lovers you’ve had in just this town alone? How many broken hearts have you left in your wake? I know you have ulterior motives for wanting to take her from here, and I won’t stand for it. She’s simpleminded and vulnerable, and I won’t let you dishonor her and return her to me used and broken.”

“Stop talking like she can’t hear every vile thing you say about her!” Birch shouted, slamming his fist into the table, making you jump. “I would never do something so shameful! You don’t know anything about me! ”

“Son, calm down,” Ryel said, putting her hand on his. “My son is a grown man of twenty-eight and has desires, true, but I’ve been to this town quite often and I haven’t found any such string of broken hearts, as you call it. Many sighing and wistful girls who long for his company, sure, but not one of them has come to me with tears in her eyes claiming he lied or misled her. He’s open and forthright about his intentions, and I respect his decisions. You should do the same for your child.”

“Don’t talk to me about my child if you can’t even control your own,” Your mother said venomously. “Hazel, let’s go.”

She tried to lead you away, but you refused to move. There were hurt and anxious tears in your eyes and you couldn’t look at anyone, but you refused to let her pull you away.

“Hazel!” She gripped your arm and yanked you painfully, and you wrenched your arm from her grasp, shaking your head.

“It seems like she’s made her choice,” Ryel said. “The least you can do as her mother is respect her wishes.”

“Be quiet!” Your mother said. “Leave us alone!” She grabbed your hands and started to pull you back to the kitchen. Birch got to his feet.

“Let her go,” He said, his voice a low growl, knocking her hands away from you. He stood between you and your mother. You dared to reach out and place a hand on the fur of his back to steady yourself.

“What’s going on here?” The bartender, Brian, asked. He also owned the tavern and knew about your condition. He didn’t speak to you much, but he also didn’t tease you either. You could handle understanding silence a lot better than persistent expectation to interact. “Are you alright, Hazel?”

You were shaking and crying, so you could only shake your head.

“These people won’t leave us alone,” You mother said. “I’d like them to leave.”

“Now, Rita, these people are good customers and friends of mine. I’m going to need more of a reason than ‘they’re bothering me’ to kick them out.”

“We simply offered young Hazel here a job on the farm,” Ryel said patiently. “I’m afraid her mother is interfering with her decision.”

“Is that true, Hazel?” Brian asked. “Would you like to take up this job?”

Trembling, you nodded.

“Well, then, that settles it, doesn’t it?” Brian said. “These are good folks, Hazel, they’ll take care of you.”

“Like hell they will,” You mother retorted. “She can’t make decisions like this. She doesn't understand.”

Brian sighed. “Rita, your girl’s not stupid, and it’s high time you stopped treating her like she is.”

Your mother looked like she’d been slapped in the face. You looked up at Brian in shock. He smiled kindly at you.

“Why don’t you go up and pack your things while your mother and I have a little chat, eh, dear?” He said.

You attempted to smile at him, though you worried it looked a little like you had indigestion, and went to pack. You took a few minutes to sit on the bed and breathe, clutching your chest, feeling a panic attack poking at your brain. You couldn’t believe it. You were really leaving.

There was a knock on your door and Ryel poked her head in.

“Are you alright, dear? That was quite the fuss,” She said.

You dried your face and nodded, getting up to start putting clothes in a bag.

“I sent Birch outside. He was getting rather angry, and I didn’t want him smashing any of Brian’s furniture.”

You looked out the window. Birch was standing in the courtyard with his arms crossed, stamping the ground and stepping constantly, as if he couldn’t stand still. His brow was furrowed, his jaw was working, and his tail was swishing back and forth without stopping.

“He’s worried for you, dear,” She said, following your gaze. “One thing our entire family has in common is that we don’t like seeing people mistreated. You’re mother may have her reasons for acting as she does, and perhaps it is out of some misplaced notion of love, but there’s no doubt in my mind at all that she mistreats you. You can’t help the way you are, and no amount of her cruel words are going to fix that. In fact, I’m more than certain it makes it worse.”

You sighed sadly in agreement. As you stood there, Birch looked up at your window. He smiled, a little sadder than before, and waved up at you. This time, you raised a hand and waved back.

The door opened and your mother walked in, glaring at Ryel.

“I’d like to speak to my daughter alone, if you please,” She said, her voice low and hostile.

Ryel looked at you questioningly, and you nodded. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” She said, and walked out, closing the door behind her.

Your mother just stared at you with her arms crossed, shaking her head slightly. You looked down and away.

“I guess I should just be glad you won’t be around to humiliate me anymore,” She said, and you shrunk in on yourself. “I don’t like this at all, but it seems I have no say in the matter. You made sure of that, didn’t you?”

You knew she was hurt and was lashing out. She wasn’t exactly sweet and caring on her best days, but she could really cut a person to the quick when she was upset.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” She asked you, and you could hear tears in her voice. “Nothing at all? You can’t muster the courage to apologize to me for that display downstairs? For leaving me without a thought to my feelings? I’ve spent the last seven years protecting you and providing for you after your useless father threw us out, and you do this to me? And you have nothing to say?”

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you walked up to her and put your arms around her waist and lay your head on her shoulder.

“I’ll miss you, Mama,” You said softly.

She started to sob and put her arms around your shoulders. It had been years since she’d last hugged you.

“You’d better start sending me letters as soon as you learn how to,” She said, her voice breaking. “If I don’t hear something from you in a few months, I’m going out there to drag you back, you understand me?”

“Yes, Mama,” You whispered, and took a step back. Picking up your bag, you opened the door and walked out. Ryel was waiting and smiled when she saw you.

“Ready?” She asked.

You nodded.

Back outside, Birch was waiting. He stopped shifting around anxiously when he saw you and his mother exit the tavern.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

“Everything’s just fine,” Ryel said. “We’re ready to go.”

“Would you like to ride on my back?” Birch asked, turning.

You shook your head fervently, mortified.

“Are you sure?” He said. “It’s a long walk back to the farm, over four hours. I can get us there in half the time.”

“She’s feeling shy,” Ryel said. “For centaurs, letting people ride on their back is a special privilege afforded to few. I’ll ride with you.” She grinned at him. “He always makes an exception for his mother.”

He grinned at her in return. “You just assume I do.” But he took out a quilted riding blanket that was rolled up and tied to the bottom of his pack and handed it to her, and she set it on his back. Climbing the steps to the tavern, she vaulted onto his back. She instructed you to do the same. Blushing furiously, with both Ryel and Birch’s help, you were able to scramble on in front of her.

“Let’s go,” He said, and he took off at a trot out of town.

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My Masterlist

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#Exophilia #Monster Boyfriend #Centaur #Autistic Character #Reader Insert #Semi-Verbal Reader

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ratmonky · 4 years ago

Text

Untamed Dog

Word Count: 10K

Warnings: non-con, major spoilers, predator/prey, biting, manipulation, gaslighting, breeding, blood and violence

AO3 Link

A gift to my friend and one of my favorite artists, @workofann

When King Fritz failed to retrieve his people to the island after the Great Titan War, all of the Eldians became slaves to Marley.

All of the nine titans were under the Marleyan army’s control, warriors who inherited one of the seven titans would receive the Marleyan title and a red armband along with the promise of a better life for their family even after their inevitable death.

The Wilbur family kept the Warhammer Titan and the Founding Titan was being fed to an ordinary Eldian family to keep it safe. Or rather keep Eldians in place, taking their hope of freedom away.

The remaining of the seven titans were hung down on a rope around a stick to trick Eldians into having power. Marley made Eldians believe that inheriting one of these titans could bring comfort to their life.

As long as someone inherited one of the titans, their entire family would live in comfort instead of poverty.

That silly promise worked. Since the many Eldians were living in poverty, they were willing to do anything to have a better life. Even if it meant to send their kids to death.

Eldian warriors started training from the moment they hit puberty and up until the moment they became adults. Only then, they were able to inherit the titans they were attained to.

In the hopes of living a better life, you were one of the many kids who had joined the warrior training program when you were little. You grew up in the army and experienced the destructive war from an early age.

You were lucky enough to be taken to the warrior candidate program later on. Which pretty much ensured your death but the impending truth that you were going to die for this country was honoring in a way. It was the least you could do, dying in the name of Marley was something you owed to them after everything devils like you made them go through.

In the end, it was all decided from the moment you were born with an armband to your left. Like many, you were carrying the blood of the titans, the curse of Ymir. To be freed from the shackles of the ‘devil’ title, you had to prove your loyalty to Marley. Dedicate your heart to your country.

You did.

So did your comrades.

However, only six of you could inherit one of the seven titans the Marleyan army used.

~~~

“My gear is totally dead,” you sighed, standing on top of the wall surrounding the enemy’s town that your comrades had destroyed, trying to take your eyes away from the mass of bodies scattered along almost every single inch of space, “I have no gas left.”

“Rookie mistake,” Jean snickered, trying to regain some humanity he had left. “We’ll go get some for you as soon as the others are done with the serum.”

It became silent.

“Is dinner or breakfast the most important meal of a day?” Connie asked to break the uncomfortable silence between his friends.

“Both,” Sasha answered without hesitation.

“No, you should only choose one and it’s obviously breakfast, moron,” Jean sighed audibly, looking down from the wall.

The rest of the people looked tenser than ever yet you still managed to offer the trio a smile before giving your answer, “I’d say it’s dinner. It’s where you and your family or friends are home, safe and sound. Dinner is like a blessing, in my opinion, don’t you think so, Jean?”

Jean met your gaze and blushed bright red before averting his eyes to look around himself rather than the bloodbath covering them everywhere.

“He hates his mom so he wouldn’t know,” Sasha spoke without thinking.

“Sasha!” Connie warned, trying to tell the airhead girl that it was a rude thing to say.

“We all eat dinner together,” you pointed out, “Breakfast is hard to eat together when each one of us has different chores but we all eat dinner together. We are family even without blood.”

“You’re right,” Connie gasped softly. “I never thought of it that way. I mean this about eating dinner together, of course. The family part is kinda weird though, you know since some of us will die no matter what.”

A cold breeze brushed their skin. Sasha anxiously started biting the inside of her cheeks.

“That’s why I think dinner is important.” You walked over to Jean and grabbed his bicep to pull him closer to the group. “At night, when we’re in the dining room altogether, eating and enjoying a meal together means that we’ve all made it through a day. We’re safe and alive, together.”

“I get it!” Jean pulled his arm free, “All this positivity won’t get you anywhere unless you stay on the lookout. We’re in the middle of a battlefield here.”

Only then the four of you came back to your senses. Connie had remembered why he had broken the silence. It was because his legs wouldn’t stop shaking or his jaw wouldn’t stop clenching. He shivered with the thought of what was going to happen soon.

Sasha remained silent yet anyone could tell how anxious she was with a single look in her direction.

Jean acted tough. He was worried but he knew better than to show weakness. He held his composure and even looked a little intimidating.

You on the other hand didn’t know what to feel or how to act. You weren’t sure why they were so worried. Even though you all had one more year left of your training, emergencies like this happened quite often. The Colossal Titan’s holder was about to die, so, of course, the Marleyan commander would order your commander to feed him to one of the only two candidates.

It was either going to be Armin or Bertholdt. One of them was going to become the Colossal Titan and the other one was going down a rank in the military to become a special force soldier.

It was that easy.

The weaker link had to leave. It was the rule of nature.

“You guys!”

You whipped her head around to see Reiner gliding through the air with his ODM gear to reach the top of the tall wall. He landed right beside you, looking rough and sweaty.

“Armin,” he breathed, “They gave the serum to him.”

Connie, Sasha, and Jean gaped but you were inanimate.

“He’ll be the colossal titan?”

“Yes, they’re going to kill us. It’s Eren and Mikasa’s fault, we’re screwed. Commander Erwin should have given the serum to Bertholdt!” Reiner gritted his teeth in anger. “Armin won’t be able to lead us anywhere-”

“Hey!” Jean pointed a finger at Reiner, “He’s the reason why most of us are alive. It was always him who saved us with his smart planning, alright?”

You nodded along while Sasha jumped down the wall to get to the other side of the opening so she could see what was happening. Connie followed after her right away.

“Bertholdt deserves the Marleyan title more than Armin,” Reiner confronted Jean.

The two of them were the only candidates for the Armored Titan, the way they were reacting and arguing was normal. In the future, it was going to be the same for them. Only one of them could inherit the Armored Titan. This argument was nothing but a desperate attempt to prove which one of them was worthy of a titan and ignore the impending truth.

It wasn’t how strong the soldier or how smart the soldier was. Marley didn’t choose its soldiers like that. They chose those who they could brainwash easily. The army wanted desperate young adults who were ready to dedicate their lives to a country that owed nothing to them.

It was nothing but pure manipulation. Destroying the lives of hundreds if not thousands of young people, just so seven of them could inherit these titans.

As the two of them were arguing, you walked to the edge of the wall, staring at the bloodbath of your enemies and titans, that would disappear in a couple of hours.

War Chief Zeke had gone a little berserk today with his titan but it was only normal. Everything had gone according to the plan, the rain of the titans was able to destroy most of the city while the Colossal Titan broke down the outer walls. Yet, nobody could foresee the enemy having the infamous titan spears. The Colossal Titan’s holder was hit by many of them, leaving him fatally injured. It was unfortunate that the last minutes of his life was here on the battlefield but it was one of the most fortunate things for the candidates who had enough time to be able to eat him.

Who deserved to be the Colossal Titan?

In your opinion, it should have been none of them.

Armin was smart, just like Bertholdt. however, they were both weak and childish.

You could guess that Armin was chosen only because Bertholdt still had some of his humanity left in him. Everyone knew he cried himself to sleep.

If you didn’t want to murder an entire country without remorse just so you could be blessed with that red armband, then you lost your chance.

Bertholdt should have known that.

Reiner probably knew that though but refused to believe the truth that was right in front of him. He was mentally unstable, making him the perfect new Armored Titan. Easy to manipulate, dumb enough to risk his entire being for the sake of Marley.

You took a deep breath to calm your senses and to block out the angry arguing happening behind you. There was a soft rumbling sound as you breathed out. At first, you thought it was your stomach thanks to the previous conversation with your friends about food but it was something louder.

Only then you realized that it was the faint screams of your enemies you had heard today, the memories of the loud squelching noises that happened when their flesh was being eaten by titans. It was all playing over and over and over again in your head.

Holding your hands up to cover your ears, you tried to block out the noises. Praying that they would stop but you were old enough to know prayers wouldn’t solve anything.

“(name),” Jean spoke through his teeth, he was still furious at Reiner. “Come on, let’s get you a new gas tank.”

You let your hands fall to your sides and walked towards him after turning around on your heels. The two idiots were having a staredown but as soon as you walked to the other edge of the wall, Jean wrapped an arm around you and jumped down. You held onto him briefly as he aimed his grappling hook towards a building on the verge of collapsing, at that moment he said something he shouldn’t have.

“People who obsess over the Marleyan title like that won’t get anywhere in life.”

You nodded in response, the title meant so little but the power of a titan… It meant everything.

As soon as you changed your gas tanks, it was time to go.

The enemy had already surrendered and there was nothing else you could do here.

“You brats.”

Turning your head, you looked at your captain. Both you and Jean saluted Levi as he walked towards you with an angry look on his face. Here it was coming, he was going to scold you for hiding to avoid the clean-up after the battle.

“Where were you?” he demanded an answer more than he asked.

“Uhh, we were with… Sasha and Connie. We were just… um… waiting for Commander Erwin to be done with the serum and-”

“I’m not talking about that,” Levi cut off Jean’s rambling. “Where were you during the battle?”

“We fought with our assigned squad, sir. Squad Leader Hanji gave us the orders to kill enemies on top of the walls with the titan spears.” You spoke clearly, still saluting, unlike Jean.

“That glasses saved our ass again…” Levi muttered under his breath. He then told you to stand easy.

Relaxing your posture, you looked at Captain Levi in the eye. “Squad Leader Hanji said they noticed the enemy on top of the walls at the last minute. Although our response was quick, we still couldn’t make it in time to protect our precious warrior, sir. Shall we go to sleep without dinner tonight again?”

Jean’s eyes widened at your words in panic.

“No need,” Levi sighed, eyes softening at your words. Even after so many years together, you were still oddly respectful and obedient when it came to your commanders. “You brats did good, nobody from our squad died. That’s why you deserve a break.” He pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. “Tell the others in the squad to gather at the entrance. We’re going to have cars coming in to get us to the harbor.”

“What about Eren?” you asked, knowing that he was most definitely with his friend right now.

“He’s my responsibility, you two should worry about getting everyone in the cars within an hour. If we don’t leave in time, we’ll have to take that shitty train.” Levi dismissed the two of you with a wave of his hand. “See you on the ship.”

“Yessir!”

“Yeah, sir!”

As soon as your commander walked away, Jean pointed a finger at your face threateningly. “You better stop that! Playing that obedient soldier thing is soooo dumb! You were gonna make us all sleep hungry again!”

“Well, I have to show them that I respect my country and army. When you show them respect, you get extra points. They think I’m a better candidate for the titan than that guy.” You were grinning from ear to ear. “That’s how you win, Jean.”

~~~

You were able to gather everyone at the entrance within an hour. The car ride took barely an hour but felt like hours thanks to your sore body.

In front of the ship, Squad Leader and War Chief stood next to each other as they were telling you and Annie about which rooms of the ship belonged to your squads.

“Make sure to get some rest.” Zeke took out a cigarette and placed it between his lips. “It’ll be a long trip until we make it home.”

“The monkey’s right! Get extra rest and eat lots! We asked Niccolo to make some warm food so better hurry up before it gets cold!!” Hanji crossed their arms over their chest with a large smile after giving you both the information papers about the ship and the schedule. “Good job on today’s battle!”

“Don’t praise them too much,” Magath said, appearing behind you. “We almost lost the Colossal Titan today.”

“Come ooooon, Magath, cut the young adults some slack! The Colossal Titan is in the right hands now. If you’re worried about Armin not being ready for the next battle, don’t worry!!! He will go under my titan training once we get back to Marley.” Hanji walked towards the General and put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll sort it out!”

“Don’t touch me, devil.” Magath pushed their hand away.

While the two of them were about to argue, Zeke gestured with his head for you and Annie to walk away before you got caught up in it.

“You weren’t there for the cleanup mission,” Annie noted right away. “I had to carry all the corpses because Reiner was freaking out about Bertholdt.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I don’t have an excuse so I promise I’ll help you next time.”

She waved her hand towards her squad. “I bet you will.”

You noticed her smiling and scoffed while you gestured your own squad to come towards you. “I keep my word.”

“Yeah, we’ll see. You better learn to keep your squad in control, your idiots are more manageable than Reiner. You’re lucky to have those candidates with you.”

“You’re right. My idiots are easier to handle but that doesn’t mean they will inherit the titans. We’re a shitshow, your idiots have the courage, mine don’t.”

“We’re right here, (name),” Connie deadpanned and walked past you towards the ship after grabbing the paper you handed out to him.

“We have to train hard if we wanna be anything like these monsters,” you yelled after him but he was shaking his head, refusing to listen.

“Monsters?” Pieck raised a brow as she took a paper from Annie. “Is that what you think of your comrades, (name)?”

“No,” you said. “We spent all those years training altogether yet nobody from my squad can be compared to any of your strength.”

Pieck nodded languidly but Porco put a hand on her shoulder to push her forward. “Keep moving, we have to get food before that pig.” He gestured towards Sasha who stood at the end of the line with a worried look on her face, waiting impatiently for her turn to get on the ship.

“I’ll keep her busy, you guys should head inside.” You were smiling at them.

Pieck chuckled before leaving. “You’re too considerate for a warrior.”

“Uhh, where’s Armin and Eren?” Jean asked while taking the paper from you. He checked the planning and the schedule briefly.

“I don’t know, Captain Levi told me he would bring them here later,” you answered.

“Keep it moving, horse face,” Ymir shoved Jean away to grab one of the papers before walking away. “Good luck with the potato girl, (name).”

You looked at Annie who was already done handing out papers and was walking inside with her squad. Reiner was walking beside her, head down and shoulders slouched. He was still upset over Bertholdt losing against Armin.

“Um… Can we go inside now?” Sasha asked after ten minutes of standing outside.

“No, we’re waiting for uhh…. Armin.”

She sighed audibly and clutched on your arm. “You were right, dinner is the most important meal of the day… I’m so hungry, (name). Let’s go eat. Armin will find his way to the ship nonetheless if we wait for him… Please…”

Okay. Perhaps you could let her go now. Others must have gotten their food and all.

“You’re right, let’s-”

Sasha left your side and ran inside the ship without letting you finish your sentence. Sometimes, you wished you could be as honest as her. Life would be so much easier.

“(name).”

You stood at attention, keeping your head up.

“Commander Erwin!”

“At ease.” He looked around before speaking. “Is everyone from your squad inside?”

“No sir. Armin isn’t here. Eren from Annie’s squad isn’t here either.”

“Hmm, Levi will be bringing them here. We’re waiting for their car to arrive with the special force soldiers.” He put a hand on your shoulder and spun you around to pat on your back, pushing you forward. “Now, go inside and get some rest.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

When you arrived at the dining compartment, Sasha was eating next to Niccolo who was still serving food. You walked over to the duo and the chef gave you a tray of food. “Good work today.”

“Thanks,” you replied and joined the rest of your squad on a table.

“I’m telling you, when I become the Cart Titan, I will have all of the ladies coming after me!” Connie smirked, “Everyone wants to get married to a Marleyan Warrior so they can live an easy life.”

“So you accept that no woman would tolerate you unless you have a red armband?” Ymir laughed. “Oh man… you are pathetic.”

The color drained from Connie’s face and he sat in silence.

“Besides,” Ymir said as you were taking the seat next to hers, “You’ll lose the Cart Titan against Pieck. That woman is unmatchable.”

You nodded to agree.

“Hey,” Jean hissed, slamming his cutlery on the table. “We’re all candidates. There’s no way of knowing who will get chosen and who will not be-”

“We’re the Paradis Squad, Jean,” Ymir groaned. “We’re the castaways, the second options, or better yet, we’re the backup plan for the Marleyan military.”

“Keep your voice down,” you shushed her.

“What? It’s the truth and nobody will hear us with the rumbling coming from the engine of the ship. We all know Armin got chosen to inherit the titan only because Bertholdt was a crybaby.” She took a bite from her bread and chewed slowly to speak at the same time. “That’s why you have to work harder than that Monkey Squad to be able to inherit whatever titan you're a candidate for.”

She was right but you needed her to shut up. The rest of the idiots hadn’t caught up with how unfair this candidate game was. Not yet.

“So you don’t wanna inherit the Jaw Titan?” Jean asked the most stupid question he could have.

“Why would I be in the military and become a candidate if I didn’t want to inherit the Jaw Titan?” Ymir was smirking widely, taunting the guys who saw as weak.

“But you keep saying we have no chance against those elite guys,” Connie whined.

“Oh, I will inherit the Jaw Titan. That Porco guy cannot even fight properly.” She had a dangerous glint in her eye as she glowered at Porco. He was omitting to her stare whilst eating next to Pieck.

“This isn’t a fair competition,” you added, tightly gripping your fork to stop the shaking of your hands. “You have to give it your best to win or it’ll all be for nothing. You’ll end up in the special forces and remain a devil in the eyes of Marleyans forever.”

“Dontcha worry, (name),” Ymir chirped, changing her tone effectively as she put her arm over your shoulder to pull you close. “You’ll inherit your titan. You’re the only one between these idiots who deserves to be a titan warrior.”

“Are you dumb?” Connie raised a brow. “(name) will never inherit a titan as long as War Chief is the Beast Titan.”

“He doesn’t get to decide who’ll inherit the titans. It’s Magath and the other Marleyans.” Jean spoke, his voice was blank, devoid of any emotion. “I thought our commanders decided which one of us it’d be when the time came but… apparently it’s the Marleyans who choose everything regarding if we’re inhumane enough.”

“Ah.” You could see it in his face. He was putting the pieces together slowly. After almost seven years in the military, he was finally grasping the bitter reality and the harsh truth of the future. “You realized that Armin wasn’t actually chosen for his talents, huh?” There was silence before you spoke again. “If you want to inherit a titan, you need to rid yourself of your humanity.”

Jean nodded knowingly and took a sip from his water with shaky hands.

It was half an hour later when the ship finally moved forward. It could only mean one thing… They were here.

Everyone except Ymir got up from their seats in the dining compartment. Seconds later the famous trio and Bertholdt walked inside.

“Armin!” Jean walked up to his comrade and hugged him while the other squad was welcoming their friend. “You’re too lucky!”

“Yeah, man! He’s gonna be treated like a celebrity now,” Connie was smirking as everyone from your squad started crowing around the blonde.

Armin blushed faintly, “I’m still me.”

“How does it feel?” you asked, curious if his body was going through any changes.

“Um, I don’t know.”

“Hey, where’s your red armband, huh?” Connie pointed at Armin’s yellow armband.

“He’s gonna get it when we get back home,” Eren replied instead and pushed his friend forward. “Now move away, we are starving.”

“Eren,” Mikasa warned, her eyebrows furrowing. “Everyone is excited, he’s the first one between you all to inherit a titan.”

Eren ignored her and walked towards the table Niccolo was serving food with Armin.

“He’s probably jealous. He just won’t admit it,” you reassured and patted on Mikasa’s back. “We’ll handle it, don’t worry.”

She nodded slowly and met your gaze. “Thanks.” After that, she reluctantly had to leave to join the special force soldiers in their own department.

Bertholdt was here for the last time, saying goodbye to his comrades. Soon, he would join Mikasa in the special force and if you were not careful you would too.

One year. Only one year left of your seven-year candidate program. Only one year until you inherited a titan or lost everything.

Anything could happen and things could go south. Just as today or when War Chief inherited his titan a couple of years ago.

Connie put a hand on your back and led you back to the table. You sat in between Ymir and Eren. The other three guys sat on the opposite side. Sasha was still busy devouring the food her supposedly lover had made for her.

“Shouldn’t you sit with your own squad?” you said jokingly.

“It’s none of your business.” Eren started eating, ignoring Jean who started scolding him for talking rudely.

Well, you knew he was upset that Armin inherited a titan before himself. The fact that his friend was stronger than him now hurt his ego and superiority complex.

“You should at least try to get along with people,” you said softly. “After this year, we won’t be forced to hang out together anymore.”

“I am here to kill all of my enemies, not make friends.” Eren had never changed from the day he joined the candidate program. He was always hot-headed and full of an ego that couldn’t be humbled. In these seven years, he hadn’t once actually tried working together with anyone. He acted like he was better than anyone else. “It’s because of your stupid airhead that the Colossal Titan’s inheritor got injured. If only you paid more attention to the war, Armin wouldn’t have lost a year of his training.”

“Hey!” Jean raised his voice, “It was nobody's fault. Don’t go accusing people for no reason.”

His attitude was finally getting to you, making you drop your facade for the first time in years. “Actually, the Colossal’s holder got injured because of you. It was all your fault. If you hadn’t gone into a rampage like you always do, we would have noticed that the enemy had titan spears on top of their walls.”

Your comrades all stopped eating, Ymir was giving you a look for you to shut up and Connie was kicking you under the table. “You really went and said it,” Jean groaned.

Eren continued eating despite how badly his hands were trembling from anger.

“(name), let’s not start a fight,” Armin whispered but his advice went unheard.

“You know you don’t belong in the military,” Eren suddenly laughed. “Everyone thinks that you don’t belong here.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” you firmly answered. “This is the only place I belong.”

“You don’t belong in the military,” Eren insisted. “Don’t lie to your comrades.”

“Oh, now we’re comrades?” You glared at him and put your hand over your heart. “I pledged loyalty to serve Marley.”

“We all did.” Eren waved his hand dismissively. “There’s nothing special about you. I am here to kill all of my enemies, you’re here so you can live rich. That’s why I will inherit the Attack Titan and you won’t.”

For a single moment, your face showed pure panic at what he had just said.

“You really think that way?” Ymir forcefully scoffed, “What now? We’re all useless-?”

“You are. If you weren’t you wouldn’t be in this squad. You’re all nothing but a second choice.” Eren lifted his gaze up to Armin. “He is the smartest of them all, the Colossal Titan never needed a fighter. It needed a brain.”

Ymir’s smirk dropped and she let out a low sigh of discomfort. Jean and Connie were glowering at Eren while you were humbled by him once again.

You tend to forget how you actually were nothing. Titans needed a fighter, Marley needed a fighter. The Attack Titan needed a fighter.

You were only smart, you couldn’t fight as well as Eren and you weren’t a natural-born leader like him.

Against him, you had no chance of winning. This wasn’t about who was the smartest, the most powerful, or the most inhumane. Each titan needed something specific. The Colossal needed a brain, the Female needed strength, the Armored needed wrath, the Jaw needed speed, the Cart needed stamina and the Attack Titan needed… a leader.

Are you a leader?

“I will inherit the Attack Titan.” Your voice quivered but you stood tall and proud.

“You have no chance of winning against me.” He was confident, rightfully so.

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that you were in this situation, it wasn’t fair that Eren Yeager was going to destroy your life. It wasn’t fair that you were the one who got hurt all the time.

“You don’t belong in the military and you don’t belong here with us.” Eren put down his cutlery, nobody else dared to speak.

You were getting angrier and starting to tremble in rage. “I’m sorry but I’m not willing to run away from my responsibilities like you.” Your brows furrowed and your teeth were clenched as you practically yelled, “I will inherit the Attack Titan no matter what.”

Eren scoffed as he was looking at your eyes that were burning with rage, “Good luck, then.”

~~~

You were going to kill him.

“Don’t think much about it,” Ymir said.

“Y-yeah, he’s saying all that because he thinks he’s the strongest.” Sasha was trying her best to come up with words that would sound comforting but it was hard. She wasn’t present during your argument.

“He’s confident because his brother is the Beast Titan,” you hissed. “Zeke got lucky. If Mr. Ksaver hadn’t had a heart attack, he wouldn’t be here. If only the other candidate wasn’t away… Then he wouldn’t be the Beast Titan.”

“Hey,” Ymir warned. “Don’t say things that can get you in trouble.”

“Says the girl who bad mouths everyone.” You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

“A-anyway!” Sasha pulled the sheets over her head, “Let’s just sleep! You’ll forget about this tomorrow.”

“I agree with the piggy for once.” Ymir reached towards the candle and blew it out. “Goodnight, you two.”

“Goodnight,” Sasha murmured happily.

You were silent.

There had to be a way to get Eren out of the picture.

~~~

You couldn’t sleep, even though both Ymir and Sasha had already passed out. Today was exhausting for everyone yet every time you closed your eyes, you were seeing Eren getting the Attack Titan.

Kicking off your sheets, you jumped out of your bed to take a walk and calm yourself.

As soon as you left the room, you started wandering in the ship without a destination in mind. Without realizing it, you kept walking to the deeper, darker parts of the ship where there wasn’t a single light on. However, thanks to you being discalced, you could feel it when the floor under your feet changed height or direction. It helped you get around the tight hallways but you still had no idea of your whereabouts nonetheless.

Maybe it was a bad idea to be wandering around.

That was until you heard a sound that shook you internally. Your head whipped to the right, a large metal door was inviting you.

You could hear the familiar voices of people and hushed yelling from the other side of the door. Out of curiosity, you pressed your ear onto the door to listen.

“- stop causing trouble before they kick you out. If you don’t get the Attack Titan all of our parents’ efforts will all be for nothing.”

“You say that as if I won’t inherit the titan.”

That was… Those were the Yeager brothers.

“That girl, she’s obedient. She will get the upper hand if you don’t get your act straight, Eren.”

“It doesn’t matter if she gets the Attack Titan, you can give me your spinal fluid and I’ll eat her.”

“Eren!” A slam. You flinched, covering your mouth to keep quiet. Zeke had slammed his fist on a table or a wall. “Enough innocent Eldians died. You have to prove yourself worthy and earn the Attack Titan. Hanji and Erwin found who Marley was feeding the Founding Titan to. It’s some poor family by the outskirts of the city. We finally have all of the information we need. All you have to do is follow the plan.”

“The plan is that I inherit the Attack Titan, it doesn’t matter how I do it.”

Your heart was pounding, a cold sweat slicking your skin as you continued listening to them in terror. Did they want to betray Marley?

They were…

They were traitors.

“The plan is that you inherit the Attack Titan and become the symbol of hope for our people. If it weren’t for Levi or Mikasa, you wouldn’t be alive today. You need to prove to our people that you’re worthy of leading them to a better future. You must be convincing because nobody will riot against Marley if some bastard with anger issues eats the Founding Titan.” Zeke’s voice sounded conflicted. “Once you become the beacon of hope, you have to bring us peace. No more wars, Eren. We had enough wars.”

Eren spoke again after a long pause. “Do you think we should let them live after all they’ve done, Zeke?”

“Eren, we aren’t showing mercy to Marley. We are only ending the wars for our sake. Eldians have fought enough.”

Your eyes widened and a sickening smile spread across your face. This… This was your chance. You were going to become the Attack Titan. All you had to do was find a Marleyan, Magath… Anyone!

Taking a step back, you took a quick look around you before starting to walk further down the hall. As long as you revealed the truth about the Yeager brothers, you would inherit the Attack Titan. They were going to be banished and hopefully, executed. You were speeding down the hallway, keeping your hand on the wall to use it as a guide.

You couldn’t believe it, they were planning to betray Marley and eat the Founding Titan. Why would they even do that? You didn’t know and didn’t need to know. All you knew was that now, you were guaranteed to inherit the Attack Titan.

No matter how long you walked, you never came to the end of the hallway.

What if Commander Erwin, Captain Levi, and the Squad Leader Hanji were in it too?

What about Mikasa and Armin? Were they in this too?

If you snitched on the Yeager brothers would they kill all of your other comrades?

They wouldn't, right?

Honestly, they were all better off dead.

You walked for a few more minutes until you had worked up the nerve to make a run for it. Your palm was clammy as you kept sliding your left hand on the wall and, without looking back, you darted down the hallway praying to whoever was listening that it wasn’t a dead end and would lead you to Magath’s office.

You got lucky and came across the dining compartment. At least you were getting somewhere, you only had to keep running. For a while, you followed the wall around without stopping but when you saw a silhouette ahead of the hallway, you skidded to a stop.

In the dark, you couldn’t make out who it was but you continued walking, hoping that it was a Marleyan or anyone you could tell about the Yeager brothers and their plan of attacking Marley.

There stood a glorious Marleyan soldier, Yelena.

You were going to win.

A wild grin spread across your face and you took a step forward at the same time Yelena became aware of your presence.

“Good evening,” she said, you could hear the smile in her voice. “Mr. Yeager.”

Your own grin dropped and you felt a large hand landing on your shoulder, gripping you tightly.

“Yelena, I told you to keep on the lookout.” Zeke’s voice was calm despite being caught. “This one eavesdropped on me and my brother as it seems.”

Yelena did something you had never seen a Marleyan soldier do to an Eldian before and she saluted Zeke. “My condolences, sir. Shall I kill her?”

“What?” It was you, voice breaking and heart hammering in your ribcage. What kind of conspiracy was going on here? “Miss Yelena, we have to tell Magath about this-”

“No, it’ll bring too much attention to us. I’ll handle it,” Zeke ignored your words and replied Yelena instead.

The woman nodded and stood at ease. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Keep an eye on the hallways. I don’t need any more of these miscalculations.” Zeke’s hand moved to the back of your neck, he grabbed you tightly and turned around to walk away with you.

Your hands went to pry his hands off of you but it was futile, despite his looks, Zeke was stronger than you. As he was forcing you to walk the way you ran from, you spoke through your teeth. “I will kill you. I’m going to scream now and everyone will know that you-”

“We’re on a ship, (name). If I transformed right now, everyone would be dead. Everyone.” He was speaking calmly again but his grip around the back of your neck tightened, making you whimper in pain. “Do you want to risk it? I don’t think you would survive. Neither would anyone else other than Armin Arlert. If he managed to turn into the Colossal Titan before the ship sinks, that is.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” you hissed, biting back a sob.

“You don’t know where you stand just like Eren,” he sighed in irritation this time.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to betray Marley? Don’t you feel guilty of the things we devils have done to them?” You were spitting out your words, an animalistic snarl rose up from your stomach. “You traitors!”

“The war must end,” Zeke said. “What we’ve done to Marley in the past was unforgivable but the way we’re being used as weapons against other countries… We will always continue to repeat history if we don’t end the war. And-”

“I will inherit the Attack Titan and stop you all.” Your limbs started to shake violently, you tried twisting your body to escape his hold but it was all futile.

“Didn’t you hear my brother? I can turn him into a pure titan and feed you to him.” Zeke leaned in to whisper, his voice carried a dark promise. He was serious.

You didn’t dare to utter a single syllable more. Your bottom lip was trembling as the realization of how bad your situation actually was started to settle in.

What you had thought to be your advantage against Eren was going to get you killed. You had no idea how many people were involved in this. Yelena had saluted Zeke as if he wasn’t a devil. A Marleyan bowed down before an Eldian.

How dare she betray Marley like that? Eldians did nothing but cause wars, you were all the devils who killed. You were a curse, a waste of space and air. To earn your place in this cruel world, you had to dedicate yourself to Marley. And-

Oh, how amusing to think like a loyal dog.

A giggle escaped from your lips.

Zeke raised a brow but continued forcing you down the hallway until the two of you reached a door. He pushed the door open and shoved you inside before walking after you.

“This is your first chance to prove yourself to me,” Zeke spoke. You immediately knew he wasn’t talking to you.

Stumbling forward, you fell on the ground. You used your hands to push yourself up as the door closed, seconds later you heard it being locked.

“Devoted as usual, (name).” Eren crouched in front of you and grabbed you by your hair to pull your head back. “Do you think Marley would care if you died? I think they’d replace you with one of the many other soldiers.”

“Eren,” Zeke sighed. “Are you listening to me?”

The younger brother hummed lowly in response but proceeded to glare at the terrified expression on your face.

“She’s been brainwashed from birth by Marleyan propaganda. Every Eldian in Marley is like her. Their thoughts and motives are all the same.” Zeke took off his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief he took out from his pocket. “I want you to teach her the truth and prove yourself to be a true leader.”

“Why should I? Is it so we can keep her alive?” Eren scoffed, lips curling up into a smile. “I wouldn’t mind killing her now, throw her off deck and tell everyone else she jumped herself-”

“Eren.” Zeke was tired, so tired of all the killings. So tired of the wars and deaths. He wanted peace. He wasn’t made for fighting, Mr. Ksaver knew that but still gave him the Beast Titan. Mr. Ksaver believed that Zeke could lead the Eldians to peace. To a life without any wars or deaths. Zeke knew he could lead his people to freedom but he couldn’t fight. He wasn’t powerful enough to eat the Founding Titan himself. That was the only reason he needed Eren for.

Why father?

Why did you fail at parenting your sons?

Grisha raised Zeke with hatred for Marley and tried embedding that fighting spirit he wanted so much into the little Zeke but failed. Immediately after his mother, Dina’s death, Grisha married another woman and had Eren. Only then Grisha came back to his senses and raised his younger son with love.

Yet, Eren turned out the exact way he desperately wished Zeke would be like when he was raising him.

Ironic if not poetic.

He sent both of his sons to the candidate program and here they were; Zeke trying his best to speak some sense into Eren while all his little brother talked about was killing everyone.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Wasn’t he tired of it all?

He returned to the present, barely a second had passed.

“If you can’t convince one Eldian woman to join our cause then you’re not befitted to inherit the Attack Titan. I can always find another candidate who will take orders.” Zeke’s tone was colder than ice. He put his glasses back on and glowered down at his younger brother.

Eren’s sinister smile faltered and he frowned. “Why does it matter?”

“Don’t you understand?” Zeke clapped his hands together, raising his voice. “How can I give you the power to lead all of the Eldians if you can’t even lead a single brainwashed woman?”

“Fine.” Eren’s grip around your hair tightened and he slammed your face onto the ground out of a sudden.

You tried breathing but when you inhaled you only tasted blood. Your nose was bleeding furiously and the pain was unbearable. A whimper escaped your lips, his attack had been too abrupt.

“Eren!” The older brother took a step forward to stop his younger brother.

“Get out, Zeke.” Eren lifted your face up from the ground to show your blood-covered face to his brother before slamming it back down with a ferocious smile.

“Don’t hurt-”

“What? I’m not killing her, I’m knocking some sense into her,” Eren replied nonchalantly, lifting your face up once again. He grinned at you and lied to your face. “She’ll be fine, don’t worry. Just leave us alone.”

Zeke hesitated, his eyes were on you who was desperately trying to mouth something. The bottom half of your face was covered in blood and the stream of blood continued painting your neck and nightgown red.

“Don’t you trust me, big brother?” Eren knew what he was doing.

“Y-yes,” Zeke dragged a hand up his face, lifting his glasses in the process. He let his cold hand rest over his eyes and turned around on his heels. “I’ll be back in the morning, I’ll tell Yelena to guard this hallway.”

Your voice wouldn’t come out, your lips were trembling too much and the pain was overwhelming your senses.

When Zeke opened the door and closed it behind him, Eren lowered his face next to yours, “A slave to Marley, that’s what you are, (name). Loyal dogs like you disgust me. Do you bark when you’re told to? Won’t you bark for me?”

You used your entire strength into collecting all of your saliva and blood you had in your mouth on top of your tongue and spitting his face.

Your spit landed on his cheek and he looked unimpressed. He stared at you with boredom before shoving your face down onto the ground.

“I’ve always wanted to mess up your pretty face, (name).” He carded his fingers through your hair almost lovingly as you gargled in your own blood, coughing repeatedly. “Maybe if you were in the special forces, I’d have the chance-”

“You’re more pathetic than I thought,” you got over your coughing fit and spoke clearly. “Do you really believe people will betray Marley just because some egoistic guy with a superiority complex has the Founding Titan?”

Eren stopped petting your hair and flipped you over so he could watch your blood-covered face as you desperately tried to talk your way out of this. “I’m a slave to no one. I’m more of a leader than anyone alive,” he said as he glared at you.

“Yeah and for how long? Thirteen years? You’ll die when you’re thirty-three, what will be your biggest accomplishment?” you laughed at him. He was too stupid to see the bigger picture but you were going to make him see it.

“Bringing freedom to my people and-”

“What about Mikasa?” you asked, cutting his sentence short. You knew his weak point, you knew he treasured her. “Don’t you want to grow old with her?”

“Oh, her?” Eren hummed in thought. “She’s more of a loyal dog to me than anything.”

Your face contorted into something vile in disgust, the way he was dehumanizing her, your friend and comrade… It... It hurt more than it should have.

“You’re full of filth, nobody would let you lead them,” you gritted your teeth.

“You’re also full of lies. I can see right through you, we’re the same.” He grabbed your cheeks by the sides with a hand and squeezed them until your mouth opened from the force. He used his other hand to wipe your spit from his face and he spat in your mouth. “That goody-two-shoes act? You can charm everyone but me with that. I’m not stupid enough to fall for your lies.”

You gagged, wanting to spit his spit back out but he had pried your jaw open, it was impossible to get it out. You had to swallow.

Eren watched with sick amusement and you helplessly swallowed his spit.

Then, laughter filled the room.

It was you.

Raising a brow, he stared at you. Maybe, you were finally going insane.

“You can’t feel good about yourself unless you prove yourself to be the strongest, right, Eren?” You rolled over to try to get up from the ground. “It must feel good to be entrusted with leading some idiots into what you call freedom, huh? You must feel like a God!”

“Did I break you already?”

You wobbled as you got back up on your feet. The front of your nightgown was covered in blood and you could still taste your own blood, smell it too. You lifted your nightgown up to your face from the collar to wipe your nose.

“Break me? Maybe my nose but I’m smarter than you are. I can see everything clearly, I’ve been watching these people for years. I know who you are, a pitiful little kid trying to become the strongest to prove his worth. You’re never good enough, right?”

“You don’t know me, (name).” Eren was getting angry, your assumptions were upsetting him.

“I know you better than anyone else, Eren. You’re just a brat trapped in an adult’s body. You believe the answer is to kill all of your enemies and you’re worth nothing to anyone. Nobody likes you but your only two friends. One has already signed his contract to die and the other one is nothing to you, right? A pet as you said?” You were chuckling, taunting him to fight you even though you knew he was going to win. “I was at least smart enough to make them all trust me. If I become the Attack Titan, I will become a leader loved by everyone. I could carry out Zeke’s plan and follow orders better than you do. Don’t you think Zeke would love to have someone who obeys his orders to inherit the Attack Titan?”

His brows furrowed and he grumbled as he spoke. “You don’t believe our cause. Zeke won’t trust you.”

“Oh, now it’s your cause? I thought you were in it just to feel powerful! Are you just feeling threatened by me? Is it because you know I’m better than you?” you barked out a laugh, “You don’t know me at all, Eren.”

It was quiet for a long moment. He didn’t speak or move. Neither did you. Not until you decided it was time to end this.

“I’ll inherit the Attack Titan for you and carry out Zeke’s mission. You’re too much of a coward to obey simple orders because you’re way too narcissistic to listen to anyone other than yourself.” You grinned, your blood-stained teeth and lips looked eerie in the dark dim light of a candle. “I’ll lead my people to freedom.”

“You’re brainwashed. You only want to serve Marley.” He was trying to remind you of something so dumb, just an accusation without any real evidence.

“Did you believe all that because I said it?” You took a step forward, pointing a finger at him and giggling. “Do you really believe I would be a slave to some country or a person like you? I live for myself and I have the blood of the devil inside of me. I am a dog that can’t be tamed. But you, Eren Yeager, you’re nothing. Just a feral dog.”

“I’m going to kill you.” Eren took a couple of steps forward and brought his fist up in the air.

“Is that all you can do?” You started walking backward to avoid him. “Is that your solution to everything? Just kill the person who doesn’t agree with you? You’re talking about killing too much. Are you going to kill everyone but the Eldians to bring them peace? Is that your smartest plan? You’re pathetic.”

“I’m going to beat you until you can’t run your filthy mouth again.” Eren leaped forward and grabbed you by your nightgown, now, he had you in his hands. “Any last words?”

“I bet your father never told you he was proud of you. Is that why you’re obsessed with power-”

Crack.

You felt the burning pain on the side of your face that wrecked your nerves as his fist met your cheek. It completely knocked the wind out of you and you found yourself on the ground, your body bounced on the solid surface before blood splattered out from your mouth.

“Your face looks better when it’s battered up like this. Red is definitely your color, (name).” His tone was light, almost as if he was finally feeling himself. “And you said I didn’t know you!” He let out an airy chuckle.

Writhing in pain on the ground, you reminded yourself that the pain was temporary. If you let him win now, you would never be able to win against him.

“I’m not…” you groaned in pain before continuing your talk. “I’m not some special force soldier you can toy with. Those poor girls may be scared of you but I can assure you that you don’t scare me, not even one bit. You’re nothing but a man child in my eyes.” You stood back up, refusing to stay down. “You can mess with all the girls you want below your rank but the power you feel over them won’t last forever. It barely lasts two minutes, is what I’ve heard.”

Despite how much pain you were in, you smirked at him as he stood right in front of you, his height towering over yours.

“I’m going to wipe that smile off your face.” Grabbing you by the neck with one hand, he turned you around and pulled you flush against his chest. You struggled against his hold but it was useless, you were far too exhausted and the earlier fight had taken the last bit of your stamina away from you.

Eren nosed some of your hair out of the way and breathed into your neck before taking a deep inhale. The sweet scent of you and your blood filled his senses, his eyelashes fluttered with unsettling joy.

“I bet,” he whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “They won’t let you inherit the Attack Titan if you were pregnant.”

With that, he pressed himself against you and forced you to feel his growing bulge beneath his pants.

Your eyes widened and you fought back with renewed vigor, ferociously kicking and shaking your body. “I’ll kill you if you touch me, you bastard! Do you hear me? I’ll feed you to the dogs!!”

“No need for that, (name).” Eren squeezed the sides of your neck, pressing you harder against his body. “You called me a feral dog, right? I’ll fuck you like one.”

You shook your limbs trying to dig your nails into the skin of his arms to fight back but he stopped you with one single move.

Eren opened his mouth and let his teeth sink into the soft skin of your neck. A scream escaped your lips as he bit you harder until he tasted blood and wrecked all of your nerves. Your arms flailed uselessly by your sides before your entire body went limp.

His free hand moved up to knead the supple flesh of your breast as he continued biting you and rocking his hips into you.

Once he decided he couldn’t take it anymore, Eren took his hand away from your breast and hurriedly tugged down his pants. You whimpered and tried twisting your body away from him but his bite on your neck was like a predator’s, it didn’t let you move anywhere. Like a lion biting into a gazelle’s neck to keep it in place before ferociously devouring the poor animal, Eren was keeping you in place with his teeth only. He wasn’t going to stop, not until he proved his strength to you. Not until he devoured you whole.

Your plan had backfired.

He pushed you forward and both of you stumbled forward. You fell on all fours and he stayed on top of you, still biting into your neck. Growling, he hiked the thin skirt of your nightgown up using a single hand.

A pained sob left your lips. “Please, don’t.”

Eren smiled into the bite. He always knew how to get under someone’s skin, no matter how thick it was. He also knew that his threat of impregnating you was nothing but a way of humiliating you, reminding you of your place, the power he held over you, and how with a single move he could ruin your entire life.

You were the one who was nothing.

The real untamed dog was Eren. Not you.

At least, that was what he wanted to believe.

How childish.

He was nothing but a manchild.

Eren slid your underpants to the side and pulled his cock out. You sobbed as he lined himself up against your entrance.

“I will kill you. I will kill you. I will kill you-ahh-”

With a sharp thrust of his hips, he inserted the entire length of his cock inside you. He slapped his large hand on your mouth to keep you quiet but it still couldn’t stop your muffled screams echoing in the room.

He had been wanting to do this for so long. Just to shut you up and ruin you, to remind you of your place. Ahh, the power he felt right now was indescribable. It was as if he was on the tallest mountain in the world and nobody else could reach him. He was the strongest. The best. The leader. The Attack Titan’s next holder and Eldia’s new King.

In his twisted mind, he was the ruler of everything. Him having you around him like this and ravishing you only boosted his ego but the feeling of a small train of blood trickling onto his cock and down your thighs made him go berserk with a massive amount of power.

The thought of your helplessness as he took your innocence like this made him grow larger inside your cunt.

He started moving without giving you a chance to prepare yourself for his cock. Involuntarily moaning, you curled your toes and bit your lip to hold back your next moan.

Eren finally pulled his teeth away from your skin and chuckled as he tentatively pulled his hips back before abruptly slamming them forward. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

Placing both of his hands on your hips, Eren began fucking you frantically, putting his entire weight behind each thrust and stroking every spot inside of your walls. Your virgin walls started to take the shape of his cock, making you his perfect cock sleeve.

“You’re gonna regret this, Yeager,” you hissed but it broke into a moan as he mounted you completely, his hips moving with a frenzied speed, punching the air out of your lungs.

“So far, I’m enjoying it,” he whispered into your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine and causing your teeth to chatter rapidly. It was as if you were flung into a blizzard.

Your body wasn’t doing it because it was cold in the room. No. It was then, you felt it for the first time.

Fear.

He groaned in pleasure as he continued fucking you frantically like a rabid dog in heat. His pace was ruthless, each thrust of his hips was punishing and hit deep deep deep inside of your pussy.

You could feel the very shape and girth of him, he was embedding it into your memory. With each thrust, he was making sure that you wouldn’t be able to be fucked by anyone without thinking of him. You were only going to think of the smell of his sweat, the sharpness of his teeth, the shape of his cock, and his lingering, calloused hands. Nothing else.

Eventually, his animalistic pace slackened and his hips started to move staggeringly. He desperately tried stealing a few more thrusts to indulge in your warm and slick cunt by humping you like a desperate dog but your pulsating walls caught him off guard.

As your pussy clenched around his cock, he snapped his hips forward to bury his entire length inside of you. You gasped in unwanted pleasure when the tip of his cock prodded against your cervix, ready to paint your insides white.

Eren’s cock throbbed and thick spurts of his seed flooded your womb. You let out a horrifying sound and sobbed whilst the warm feeling spread across your belly. He pulled out to watch his cum drip out of your pussy with a sinister grin on his lips at the same time you felt tears streaming down your face.

He was cruel. Always had been. However, he had finally proved who was stronger between the two of you.

It was him, he was the strongest.

You had lost against the other candidate.

The most important of them all, you had lost your pride, all of that training you had gone through in seven years felt like it was for nothing.

“I will inherit the Attack Titan,” he declared, simple and to the point.

You nodded in response, throat clenching in despair as you cried in defeat.

#eren yeager x reader #lmao a lottt of worldbuilding bfehkebfrhjbrfe #comment down below if i should write my ending for aot JFHKGHTKRJ #i hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it!!!

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astriefer · 3 years ago

Text

Let Me Kiss Your Bleedings Goodbye / Look Around And See How Much You Are Loved

Summary: Alastair just wants to listen to music in his room, but the world won't have it.

Word count: 5718

Warnings: alcohol, implied mental abuse, manipulation, toxic relationships, cursing, mentioned alcoholism, neglect, negative thoughts.

@littlx-songbxrd that one is for your birthday! You chose angst the other day so I just rolled with it-

Happy birthday!! You're an amazing, creative,talented and such a special friend! I'm glad I got to meet you ^-^

All Alastair asked for was to listen to music on his phone and mind his own business. But of course, the fates weren't happy unless Alastair has had a shitty day.

Cordelia knocked on his door politely. "Alastair?"

It was Saturday, so she had no reason to bother him. Lunch had already been served, and she was about to go out with her friends. So why come bother him now?

He made no move to unlock the door, and his annoying little sister repeated, "Alastair!"

She started to slam her fists at the door like some sort of a madwoman, and Alastair groaned and tore himself from his bed. "What?" he hissed as his bedroom door flew wide open.

"Mâmân wants you downstairs," Cordelia answered, backing away slightly. If she heeded Alastairs's pissed mood, good. She interrupted in the middle of his favorite song. The call of reason would say it was because they were almost nose to nose, and she was repulsed of his closeness as any other sibling would, but he liked the first option better.

"And that you couldn't tell me through the door because?" he snarled, and Cordelia rolled her eyes. He glanced at her and noticed what she wore - one of her favorites clothes Lucie picked up for her a few months ago. He arched a perfect eyebrow at his sister."Is there some special occasion?"

Cordelia's cheeks flushed red, and she decisively didn't meet his eyes. "It's nothing. Just going out with some-- That's none of your business. You're so irking. Oof."

She exchanged to the annoyed-sibling-defense-system mid-sentence. It was Alastair's turn to roll his eyes so he didn't waste it. "Whatever. Go play dolls with Lucie." Closing the door behind him, he ambled down the staircase to the ground floor, ignoring his sister's protest.

He entered the drawing-room, which he found deserted. All that laid there were a few magazines Cordelia left on the table and an empty cup of coffee. He didn't stall to wonder who besides him drank coffee in the house since his mother was pregnant - and it was unhealthy for the baby - and Cordelia didn't like it. He headed to the dining room, finding his mother seated on one of the dinner table's seats. In front of her, seemingly a pristine-white unopened letter.

"Dearling," Sona smiled at her son, the light not reaching her eyes. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he answered. He perched on the chair next to hers and took one of the pastries Risa brought the previous day that laid in a basket. She would occasionally check on Sona and them. Their aunt had assisted them in any possible way was able to in the past few months. And even before that, she volunteered to do things Alastair wished she wouldn't. She once contacted James Herondale, Cordelia's boyfriend, to give him the talk . It was hilarious as much as it was terrifying because while Risa picked fundamental English words, she had him by the arm to help her translate. And Holly Lord in the sky, he couldn't look James in the face for a month.

Sona just studied him for a few moments, before her features softened. "You always so self-reliant." she shook her head. "I'm sorry. You don't need your mother to nag you."

Alastair inclined toward her, squinting. "Mom, I never said that."

"You seem peeved at me," she adjusted her deep green roosari - it matched the wide yellow and green dress she wore - before resting her eyes on the letter. "I would think it has something to do with puberty if I didn't have a second teenager in the house."

"I'm not angry at you." Alastair scoffed.

"Alright," Sona said.

"Are Cordelia and I in a competition of who is the worst teenager? Well - at least I'm on the lead. Cordelia should level up her game."

"Dear, it's not it," Sona lifted both her hands, like in a plea, before she dropped them on the table again. Alastair noted her eyes wandered around the room - deviated from how she usually behaved - and suspected he was going to be apprised of some news.

Brows furrowed, he asked, "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Well-" she rubbed at her eyes, and Alastair noticed - not for the first time - the dark circles around his mother's eyes. Does he keep you awake at night? He wished to ask in worse days, to see if it hurt her as much as it hurt him. Or is he haunting you with nightmares?

Alastair long knew the figure Elias is in Cordelia and Sona's dreams is of some immaculate hero. One with kind eyes, a guiding beacon, a loving man. In their dreams, he would outstretch a comforting hand and still be young and caring. He's the best version of himself, a father and a husband that loves them. He is also the man that dwelled in his most horrifying nightmares - A drunk, nothing more. He was swigging vodka by the bar, with cold eyes and tousled white hair. This version of his father, he knew, would call him a brat, would complain about his mother pestering him to visit rehab. His father would hug his bottle and glance at him as if he was a nuisance to get rid of, and he would close his eyes and wish to be elsewhere. But he's small again, and just wants his father to leave the bottle to hug him goodnight, tucked safely under the blankets. But his father wouldn't come.

Was it foolish his heart still stung whenever he came across this truth?

She cut the pleasantries and readied herself. "Your father's lawyer declared he wouldn't waive the trial," Sona conceded, her shoulders sagged. His mother laid a protective hand on her belly, where Alastair's sibling has been growing in her womb for the past few months. "A letter was dispatched."

It was all it had to take to ruin his day. He barely had the restraint to not leap on feet and scream at the cursed photo of his father, hung on one of the walls. Before it was all revealed, before it exploded in their face, and far before Cordelia became aware of their father's afflict, they used to do it often. To talk about what they would do next. How to protect Cordelia, how to help Elias, how to hide the appalling secret of their family their best. Now they did it for an entirely different reason.

Up to a few months ago, they were still a picture of a family in a broken frame. When the court exonerated Elias from any blame, they reunited and returned to posture like they always had been. Act, because that is all they could do. However, upon Elias's trial, Cordelia discovered the truth. Alastair was so exhausted from hiding it, he didn't perceive it until he let the lie collapse. He had blamed himself, he still did, but it changed nothing from the fact Cordelia knew about their father now.

She knew, and she was livid. At Alastair, at their mother and father, at the world. After all, she lived a lie. Who could have blamed her?

It was that day he confessed to her in a shaken voice the utter truth and let the wall between them succumb and burn to ashes. When he looked her in the eyes then, he saw the light in her eyes dimming, reality striking, the way he desires it never would. All those years he kept her safe from Elias were in vain. Although he received his sister back into his life, there was little Alastair could do but blame himself for shattering the delicate reality they threaded around her, the needless pain he caused her. She needed to comprehend, he told himself, what was behind the mask her father put in front of the world.

But if he never wanted to tell her, did it still count?

And his mother. She looked stiff, if not a bit tired. She held herself straight and proud, yet it was useless. Because what could she do? What either of them could do?

"He accuses me of Parental Alienation," Sona went on, caressing her belly delicately. She peeked at the letter again, and Alastair did as well. Now he realized the sign on the letter, and the fact it seemed unopened but in fact was. "The court is checking out at his claims."

Alastair exhaled through the nose, rocking his leg in rage. "That's nonsense. He's irresponsible alcoholism that can't take care of himself. He was tipsy on the day of the trial! Any feeling we have toward him, it's his own making." Throughout the very beginning of sending the Divorce Complaint to court, Elias had refused to accept he was divorcing. Alastair was awfully aware his father wanted custody over them, and he fought with all his unmighty power to prevent it. When he imagined his younger siblings suffering a fraction of his father's attitude, his nerves set on fire. He was aware his mother fought teeth and nails to proceed in this divorce even without this additional claim.

And Alastair was even more aware they barely had had the money to pay for this.

"What does he want?" Alastair growled. "He knows we don't have that money! He doesn't have the money to pay for this prosecution either!" His father, being put in jail, fired from his job, and wasting their money on wine, probably couldn't even provide Child Support.

"I thought it was going so well," Sona returned his stare, kind and calm. The giving sign she was upset was that rustling sound her roosari made when she fixed it restlessly.

"And Cordelia?" he made to quiet himself on the spot. He spoke in something similar to a whisper. "Bloody hell, she's upstairs. How can we tell her?"

"Language," she warned, then reached and rested her hand on his comfortingly. "She already knows."

He whipped his head in her direction. His mother didn't bat an eyelash. He managed only to let a strangled "What?" escape his mouth. He couldn't wound his mind around it. The father Cordelia looked up to betrayed her, over and over again.

His mother closed her eyes. Maybe she couldn't look at his desperate, fumed face any longer. "She was the one to fetch the letter from the post." Alastair held himself from swearing again and rose to his feet. It's good his mother didn't look at him - he wasn't sure he could look at her either. He was trembling with agitation, his vision red.

"He can't do that. He can't- get to win. Not after all the pain we've been through because of him. That's not fair. That's not fair." He was breathing hard.

"He wouldn't. Alastair, dear, look at me."

Her words were veracious, so was her voice. He couldn't manage himself to do as she said.

"Joonam-"

"I'm going for a walk." He declared strongly, hastily. "I need to chill out. Go and rest, Mother. You shouldn't work yourself out."

And with that, he took his leave. He ignored his mother calling him from behind. He brought no chattel but himself and whatever he bore that instant as he closed the door behind him and rushed down the street to disappear among the many passersby of London. Before even thinking about it, his phone was out, and he typed feverishly and pressed send without waiting to reread his text. He tucked his phone back into his trouser's pocket and took a deep breath.

His father wouldn't desist from haunting him, no matter how much he prayed it to come to an end. When his mother announced she wants a divorce, he - not lacking guilt - felt glad. Each day home was a misery. His mother was confined to bed, his father trailed the streets as if he didn't return from rehab just a month before. And this life was a cage he longed to escape, to set free from the crushing weight on his heart.

His father-

He came to a halt in the middle of the street, letting his head fall all the way back with closed eyes. He wanted to punch a wall or lash out at someone. When he talked with Jem the other day, his cousin told him bottling things inside would only result in a breakdown. He recommended he contact a person he trusted when it all felt too much for Alastair to bear.

Perhaps he should...

No. he shook as head, trying to toss this idea into an imaginary dump bin. There's no need. A nice, solitary stroll is a splendid solution. Alastair needn't anyone to look at his back worriedly like some ailing lost kitten. He didn't need it. He can be fine if he simply composed himself.

He let his legs carry him mindlessly, losing himself in his thoughts. He walked, and walked, and walked. It was a great aid to clear his mind. Even in a crowded London street in the afternoon, he felt the tight cloud of thoughts loosening around his mind. Not for long, however.

He walked near a club - a club he knew very well, but not because of his father. And in the entrance stood a freckled figure, with silken ginger hair and piercing green eyes.

The sight of his ex-boyfriend was enough to startle Alastair out of his thought. They locked eyes, and Alastair nearly lost his footing. Charles blurted something to whomever he was talking to and advanced toward the dark-haired boy. Alastair felt himself go stiff as if he prepared for a hit. Swiftly, he considered turning around and flee, and just as he was about to put this thought into effect, he felt a hand seizing his forearm. While Collecting his confidence, he turned to give Charles a blank glare.

"Alastair." greeted the older boy. "What are you doing here?"

"None of your business," Why did his voice sound hoarse? "Let go of me," Alastair demanded.

Charles's grip on his dark skin did not weaken. It felt warm even though there had been a layer of cloth between them. Alastair attempted to break free, however Charles pressed his hand harder, not enabling Alastair to move. "Come."

And so Alastair was led by his redhead ex-partner to an alley, hidden from any of Charles's companions. Alastair had the sudden urge to laugh - still so furtive. Still so abashed. Charles shoved him into the alley, blocking his way out with his body. "Alastair. I haven't seen you in a long time."

However mad he felt, his voice came out calm. Cold. Indifferent. Like he practiced in front of a mirror when he was small. "That was the point of breaking up with you," he retorted evenly.

Charles ignored his remark. "You haven't answered any of my texts, nor my calls. I ought to speak with you."

A lump rose in his throat. "I can't fathom anything to be said to matter."

He dug his nails in his palm, then understood he'd been doing it and forced himself to relax. Charles had no authority over him. He couldn't reach him now. Yet, it felt far away when Charles studied him like a very interesting political certificate. He hesitated before lifting his hand to touch Alastair's cheek tenderly. Alastair, in turn, backed away. Which was a difficult talk considering Charles still held his hand around his forearm.

"Unhand me," Alastair almost spat. He felt his own shield build up. "Do you want any of your colleagues to see you so close to a man?" The dark-eyed boy knew it would work. Charles always aspired to appear pivotal, even when it was clearly pretentious of his side. Charles's grip loosened him and Alastair hastily put distance between them. Charles gave him a look - one Alastair could only describe as wistful.

"Had I known what I did wrong to make you stop caring for me, I would have made sure to keep you closer to me," Charles said softly.

At first, it sounded almost sweet. Almost. Rather rapidly it turned disgusting as the words sank. Keep you closer, toughen the chains, tell lies to a love-famished soul.

He felt fire spreading in his stomach. Not the good sort of fire - but the kind that consumes everything it touches, that destroys and demolishes and injures. "You didn't know?" Alastair's voice quivered as he spoke, barely tamed anger in every syllable. "Shucks, so what could tell? What could tell you did something wrong when I told you I was upset you were with Ariadne? And later on, when you went and pushed your tongue into Grace's mouth in front of my eyes to make everyone believe you're straight? Or perhaps that whenever I expressed any feeling that wasn't gratitude you grace me with your presence, you said I'm overreacting? "

Charles straightened. "I wasn't bad to you. I tried to give you everything I could."

"Damnit, Charles, not today," Alastair whirled in his place, his words hot and sharp. "That's not on you to decide if you were bad or good to me! You have no right to decide for me. You gave me what you thought would be enough so I won't talk, and I was a boy desperate to be loved." He exhaled slowly. "So no, Charles. You weren't good for me at all."

"You wanted me to out myself for you when I wasn't ready?"

He was never going to be ready, Alastair thought. "If you think I was upset with you because you weren't out, you don't know me at all." A mirthless laugh slipped Alastair's lips. Did Charles even listen to him?

"Don't say that." Charles objected. "I know you better than anyone else. You know that too." he huffed and loosened his tie. "No, that's not it. Do you not love me anymore?"

It was ridiculous. "No, Charles, I don't." The smell hit his nostrils, and the realization dawned on him. Charles's mouth stank from Alcohol, despite not smelling it on his clothes at all.

Ah.

"You're drunk," Alastair condemned. It was almost an accusation, spoke so offhandedly. But he truly didn't care enough for it to be an accusation.

"I drank only a drink or two." Charles dismissed, and he looked so ugly at that moment, Alastair wanted to flee from his presence. "If you didn't want me, don't blame me for why this relationship broke apart. I try to make things right."

It was comedic to watch Charles exculpate himself and put the blame on Alastair, had it been another day. Now, it only pissed Alastair furthermore.

"Stay away from me," his words sounded like acid in his ears. "I am not fond of drunks. Or ex-boyfriends. And you seem to be both."

Charles made a comical face, one in another day Alasair might laugh at. Distantly, he realized now why Cordelia and Sona were so reluctant to break him the news. When it came to this case, and to his father, Alastair was always on his toes. He is still too easily riled by the words and deeds of others sometimes. When he had to tell the court about his deeds revolving around his father - the late-night walks outside to pubs, the frequent help; the fear someone would find out - he poured all of his being to try and help his family. Defend them from Elias. But seemingly it had no use, and all Alastair was left with is his contempt with nowhere to pour it into. It slipped from the cracks of his armor like Lava.

He passed Charles, who no longer blocked the alley, and Charles perked up and said, "We haven't finished talking."

His phone buzzed repeatedly, signaling Kamala had received his previous message. "We are done," Alastair growled, loud. These green eyes widened, and he opened his mouth. To shush him, most probably. However, blood boiled in his ears and his words demanded to be heard. "Unassuming, quiet, dark," Alastair snapped. "A bloody puppet, that's what you want. And I refuse to be your puppet any longer. What is in my words unclear to you? Stay. Away. Should I spell it for you?"

Charles glanced at the sides nervously, looking for leery eyes even though there were none. Alastair couldn't believe it. Charles still tried to subdue him. It made him smirk ruthlessly at the older boy. "But you can't take no for an answer, do you? You think you deserve everything."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," The redhead scoffed, squinting at him. "If you're angry at something, don't take it on me."

"Oh, I will do whatever I want to do," His grin widened viciously." All I do is tell you exactly what I think of you. Does it hurt your white-man-superiority complex?" he mocked with a false sad nod. "Too bad."

His phone started to ring, and he could already tell it was Kamala, worried about what he told her. She was straightforward when she told him once to never hesitate to call her if her help is required. In some of his worst days, it was his best friend that contributed to preventing him from knocking his head in a wall. Moreover, Alastair told Kamala everything about the lawsuit and what they'd been through - the Carstairs saw her like family - and she was nothing but understanding. It took every gram of control in Alastair's body to clasp his phone and say, "I must go."

He didn't wait for an answer.

His phone went quiet in his hand. He pressed a few buttons and gripped the phone close to his ear.

After the fourth ring, someone picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Our place," Alastair's voice was strained. It felt like it came out from far, far away. "Now."

With adrenaline still driving through his system, he headed to his hideout. When life would be too much, he used to wander around town or find his escape in the calm of nature. And if this meant hunkering down next to a fence in Hyde Park, that's his business alone.

His phone raged up, and he felt stable enough to answer. The first thing Kamala said over the call was, "Love, I'm so sorry."

"Yes," Alastair mumbled darkly. "Me too."

Eventually, they hung up, and he sat on the ground, so his legs were against his chest and his arms surrounding them. For however long it'd been, he rested his head on the fence and let his overloaded mind take a break. When it didn't work and his head still throbbed, Alastair kicked at the ground in frustration, raising a cloud of dust. Then he sounded the low noise of feet against the sand, and a long figure climbed the fence he leaned on.

He stared at what Thomas was securing at his hands before he made a noise of annoyance. "Hell with this," he reached his hand, "Bring it over."

He grasped the can of beer, opening it with a loud pssh-pop! The can was cold in his hand, as if fresh from the store, and he took a sip. Then he lowered the can, revealing again the image of Thomas in a hoodie and pajama pants. He looked like he put random combination clothes and went outside, which probably wasn't far from the truth. Alastair didn't have the power to hum appreciatively.

"You sounded like you were crashed by a motorcycle, and then was chewed by the cats and dogs of the neighborhood," Thomas offered. "Thought you might need it."

"No shit," Alastair mumbled. "Thanks." He cradled it to his chest and looked away. Thomas looked a bit worried, but he said no words. As silence as a cat - no, Thomas was better described as a tiger - he went and sat next to Alastair. He opened his own beer can, gulping the drink in big sips.

Alastair had not opened his mouth, and Thomas didn't pressure him. For long moments that stretched even longer than they should, none of them uttered a word. They set together, side by side, surrounded by trees and leaves and the sun sinking from the west. With a big 'Ugh', Alastair dipped his head and slipped into Thomas's arms.

"I don't want you embroiled in this," Alastair murmured, not moving as Thomas started tracing circles on his arm.

Thomas sighed softly, resting his chin on top of Alastair's head, not before he planted a kiss on the line of his hair. "Alright. But you know you can tell me whatever you want, yes?"

"I do," Alastair fell silent for a few seconds. His cheek was against Thomas's pulse point, where he found himself calming down with its steady beat. "I met Charles today."

"Charles?" at this sole word Thomas went rigid, ultimately relaxing as Alastair captured the hand on his arm and intertwined their fingers. "What has happened?"

"Nothing," Alastair answered and he knew without looking Thomas had his adorable face twisted in bewilderment. Therefore he added, reluctantly, "The usual."

Thomas moved to eye him suspiciously, but Alastair's head was still tucked under Thomas's chin. "I wouldn't think you call me if it was nothing."

"I call you for all sort of things. It doesn't have to be because my toxic ex is a dipshit."

"It feels like a low bar."

Alastair chuckled. "It really is."

Silence ensued and the presence of his boyfriend made everything brighter. Later at night, he would wonder how one man could make it so much better, yet now he just felt blessed to have Thomas by his side. A few minutes passed with Alastair closing his eyes and melting into Thomas's hug, while Thomas stroked his back comfortingly.

"Alastair?"

"Mhh."

"Alastair. "

He dug his fingers at the cool ground, taking a deep breath in an attempt to regain his composure. "What?"

He pushed Alastair back gently, and the short boy complied so they were face to face. "Are you alright?"

His dark eyes refused to meet with Thomas's hazel ones. There had been a quiet, "I'm not sure."

Thomas picked at a loose string of his hoodie, and Alastair made a mental note to steal his boyfriend's hoodie and sew it. He sat next to Thomas and reached for the beer, gulping the content of the can. He turned to Thomas, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He furrowed his brows when his boyfriend looked at him oddly, but it soon disappeared from Thomas's face.

Alastair fiddled with the hem of his shirt, and his eyes were yet low on the ground. He sounded rustling by his side and glanced at his boyfriend as he took off his hoodie. Alastair cocked his eyebrow, and Thomas huffed at him with flushed cheeks. He handed him the hoodie. "You - might be cold. It's rather late, and you wear nothing but a T-shirt."

He scanned Thomas's underneath jumper and deemed it not much warming. "And you?"

"I am big, I make a lot of heat. Cellular respiration and all that."

Alastair snorted, shaking his head. "You daft med student."

He found solace in the warm hug of his boyfriend. And wearing his hoodie was almost the same, although he missed the heat. Yet, it was soft and familiar and all Thomas. His smell was enticing to Alastair, and he put it on and sniffed it -indistinguishably - even if Thomas was just a few inches away.

As the sun set, it tinted the forest around them orange.

"You're doing the thing," Alastair commented, causing Thomas to blink.

"The what?" the tall boy asked.

"The thing. That you do." he poked Thomas's side. "You get all pensive and thoughtful and furrows your brows in that adorable way of yours. You caress your rose compass tattoo."

Thomas gave him a slight smile. "Genie has been ecstatic ever since Kamala agreed to join our family trip. I'm afraid my father is going to ask you himself if I won't."

"Ah."

"It's a bad timing, though," Thomas cackled nervously. "Sorry, never mind."

"That's fine, I don't care," Alastair said. "What family trip?"

"We thought to visit mom's country last year, but this year we want to visit some rural parts of England. Uncle Will keeps telling us how visiting North Wells, where his family lived. Eugenia keeps threatening to steal my sweets."

"She certainly would still all your snacks," Alastair speculated. He flapped mindlessly the sleeves of Thomas's hoodie to himself, which were too long for him. Thomas sent him a soft side smile.

"She will," agreed Thomas in false despair, resting his head on the fetch they leaned on. "She's like some sort of sweets monster. The only way to calm her down is to sacrifice our food."

"I know," was Alastair's response. "She's my friend. My very own short chaotic, havoc-causing, maniac goblin friend." It startled a laugh out of Thomas, and he went to rest his hand on Alastair's knee.

"Dad keeps joking he will cancel the trip if not all of the honorary lightwoods join as well. But honestly, I'm not sure he's joking any longer."

"Honorary Lightwoods?"

"He adopted y'all the moment you steeped a foot into our house. You know that." Thomas's voice sounded almost longing. He added, with a good laugh, "I think he favors you over his own children."

Alastair didn't know why he had to be this way, but it caught him off guard. It made a weird pang in his heart to think Gideon Lightwood would consider him his son. Even more so, when he knew his own father would prefer to engage in a foreign bar than to eat with him. Alastair's throat felt thick all of a sudden, and it was hard to breathe. He made a shaky inhale, as soft and thin as paper. Thomas captured that, of course.

"Baby," Thomas whispered. He acted cautiously, like he was afraid to scare Alastair away.

"No," Alastair chocked out. He hid his face in his elbow, struggling to take another breath. "Nope."

It was silent for at least a minute before Thomas piped out, "Alastair joon."

Abruptly, Alastair lifted his head and turned to his boyfriend, a spike of anger ignited."I should be stronger," Alastair burst out, heat in his words, like flames. "It shouldn't - why does it affect me like this? This isn't - nothing has happened, so why-" he cut himself off, watching Thomas's countenance. He was the epitome of calm, deep understanding eyes and soft around the corners. His lips were pressed, and he was utterly handsome. Ridiculous.

Thomas swooped him into a hug, and Alastair didn't accept it. He fought to break loose and jumped on his feet. Raving fear and outrage and agony all mixed together on the tip of his tongue. He felt angry at himself for reacting this way, at Thomas for having such a perfect family, at the world because there was no one to blame for his situation. "A few months ago I still searched for my father in pubs to return him home safely. Now I look for my father from the other side of the courtroom and watch him try to take away my sibling. And my mother - she wouldn't admit it but I know she's stressed. She probably can't even sleep at night without my ass of a father to haunt her! And Charles wouldn't even realize he's in the wrong, because as always, it's just my fault it all broke apart. Mine. Mine alone."

"And Charles is still a jerk, and Mâmân is still unwell, and my goddam father is the worst father of the year," Alastair gritted his teeth. "And I feel so useless. Utterly useless. because I can't do anything about it. The court will prefer my father's white ass to my brown skin. They would think he's a better fit to take care of the child, even it's crystal clear he isn't. He wasn't for us, he will never be. And this poor child - it deserves a real family. And my drunken father is nothing of what it deserves. So how can he try to get custody over it, Thomas? How can they let him? "

"Alastair," his name sang on his boyfriend's tongue was like thick syrup. "You are not useless."

The shorter man flashed at him with a growl. "I couldn't help my father with his problem. I can't help my mom in court. I can't even be a good sibling to Cordelia, so how could I be a good one to the baby-?"

He was shuddering, he perceived, even though the night wasn't very cold. Was he sobbing? he couldn't tell. It was like he felt everything detached from afar. He felt bulky arms close around him, and he didn't protest this time. He tried to catch his breath, albeit it kept escaping him.

"None of this is your fault, Azizam. Life can be unfair to fair people. But you mustn't question yourself because of it." Thomas grazed a big, warm hand on Alastair's cheek, sweeping his tears. "And your love is so profound, it can build bridges. It's so selfless and raw and pure, can't you see it? It's all your heart, all of you, aching because you want those you love to be well. And they will be well, Alastair. They can move mountains because it's you on their side. They are lucky to have you." His voice lowered to a whisper.

"This is just too much," Alastair shook his head. "I just- want to be out of my racing mind. I want some quiet."

Thomas gave him a sad look. "I can't tell you it will pass soon. But you're not alone, Alastair. You have many people to hold you when you feel you're about to fall. All you have to do is look."

They set there in their hideout, and Thomas leaned in and left a gentle kiss on Alastair's lips. A promise.

Alastair tilted his head and closed his eyes. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"If anything, it's the opposite. You're spectacular," Thomas leaned in again, so their foreheads and noses touch. It startled a bubbled giggle out of Alastair, and Thomas smirked. He repeated it again and again and again. Until Alastair started to believe his words.

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