#having blood relatives is something she longed for as a child

[tosxah]

Watching the traveller sleep had become boring. Very boring. Could he waltz off and go paint some unknown creatures blood in the walls? Absolutely. But his mission had been to watch the traveller. And beyond his itch, his needs and personal wants, the things that fulfilled him like fighting and training and killing- if the Tsarista commanded it, then it shall be be so. Wandering off could give the traveller means to wake up and leave. He couldn't have that.

But Archons could something, anything just happened already?? Childe rest his head back against the rock, looking up to the black nothingness above, so dark not even the moss that crawled up the walls could illuminate the space. Beyond the fire, her breathing and the gentle trickle of water, there was only silence. "Nothing? Really?" He sighed.

While he waited, he decided to continue practicing the art of draining fluids. He'd grab a handful of the moss from near by and drain it. Then throw its dehydrated carcass to the fire. He repeated this action until he had a few blobs of water floating around his being, their shapes poor and the majority dripped from his inability to keep it intact.

Once he was out of moss in his near vicinity, he decided to move the orbs to form one giant orb. He wondered what his master would think. 'Pathetic, if you cant do such a basic thing how could you hope to survive? Dont make me have to show you how its done. Again.' Not that she had a vision or the ability to manipulate water as far as he was aware so perhaps that advice wouldnt apply here. But she was always full of surprises. Ah Skirk, think one day you could find me and show me something new?

The lack of physical connection was what made it so hard. Though he'd vastly improved on his little trick since his first attempts; suspending a drop of rain took weeks to master.

With a few breaths and some awkward hand gestures the last few drops were almost in place... so close... and- it burst over his crossed legs. "Fuck..." He sulked, frustrated with the outcome. The harbinger, trousers soaked, looked over to his unconscious company. "Well, at least you're not awake to see that."

Childe dried himself off once again but rather than play with (as Tuecer liked to call it) water magic, he decided to stretch his legs bit. He grabbed his jacket from the wall and shrugged it on, and started by walking the circumfrance of the cave, his hands once again gloved glided over the rock wall's damp surface. He poked his head into the few exits, more tunnels for them to explore when the time came but despite his curiosity he knew he couldn't venture far.

The man turned around to face the traveller. Her pretty sleeping face. How long had she been asleep for? An hour? 3? More likely it'd been less than 50 minutes but he was so booooorreeeeeeeeeeeeeed.

Childe made the choice to walk over to her. He stood by her head, bending at the hip to stare at her face upside down. Closer now, he could see the way her brow furrowed so slightly, her eyes shut tight, her fingers balled at her side.

"What are you dreaming about, huh?" Fighting me? Killing me? You're so bold, traveller. The ginger cocked his head with the question. It seemed she was about to answer him almost, the way her lips twitched open. Childe knelt down to close the space, get a better view and attempt to hear the few noises that escaped her. Her mutters were relatively nonsensical. Anton was the same with his night terrors, just noises and not much else- though when he wakes he recalls the vivid encounters he has with all sorts of creatures and people.

There was one word she repeated frequently, just enough that perhaps he could make it out.

Ae... aef... Aefuhhan- aeferr- ae...

"Ae... ther?" Was that even common language?

The traveller woke suddenly, her startled wide eyes consumed him and he shot back to his feet, giving her the space to wake up... and also not look like a total weirdo by having been so close to her unconscious body.

She looked... worse for wear. Perhaps worse now than she did before the nap. He wasn't sure it was possible. She was definitely full of surprises.

Childe did nothing when she shot off looking like a wounded dog. Judging by her footsteps and where they stopped, she wasn't far. Though perhaps she thought far enough for him to not hear her sobs.

It... stunned him. Her vulnerability. She was so strong, sometimes almost unbeatable, and stoic, sarcastic, that sometimes he forgot she was just an extraordinary human at the end of the day. It took him a moment to snap from his thoughts, eyes lingering on the space she had disappeared too.

Sitting down crossed legged he decided to pluck a few mushrooms himself to roast and eat. Weird. They'd be perfect for his stew.

Childe continued to roast as the woman returned, her heels clicking with each step.

His eyes stayed on the fire as she... made herself comfortable so to speak.

"How's your ankle?" He questioned eyes fixed on the odd coloured flames, taking another bite out of the roasted starshroom.

Aether's golden braid, the same colour of sunlight itself, swung rhythmically at each step he took further away from her. Her feet moved on the reflection of the universe that surrounded them, but there was no sound from the weight of her boots, only her voice as a sharp echo in that beautiful emptiness that existed between her and her beloved family. "Aether please-" her breath weary, she didn't have to look down at her legs to know that despite her effort, it seemed like her body would not cooperate with her request to run after him. "Aether, wait! Why can we not go together?" Her voice was lost in the stars, their light colder than she could ever remember them to be. Her brother stopped in his track, and so she did. Eventually, his head turned towards her, but there was no smile on his features to welcome her back home like he always did. No warmth in his eyes that had always been the reflection of hers. His lips moved, and the sky went crumbling down above them. The stars fell one by one, the water underneath her slowly pulling her in. It dragged her body down, down, down, despite her attempt to fight it back, and the last words she could barely make out on the surface was a last plead to her brother. He didn't come to save her as the water entered her throat, invaded her lungs, and even her breathless groans were stolen by the mass of suffocating water that had trapped her. She was all alone again. Even her Sun had at last abandoned her.

....

With pure terror her body brought her back to reality: a gasp that scratched her throat, like an animal who was ready to run away from danger she found herself half sat on her side, every inch of her body shaking, her chest raising heavily at each ounce of oxygen her lungs were taking in.

There was dampness under her fingers, and under her legs, soft under her skin. A wet cloth had fallen on her hand in the struggle, her eyes barely able to focus yet on her surroundings.

It was all a dream... One she had not had in a long time since she had woken up in Teyvat. And yet, the unsettling fear still suffocating her did not leave her even when she finally raised her gaze from her hand: flames were still burning by her side, and behind them, boots and a body which belonged to someone.

Childe. And his blue eyes staring back at her owns.

"I need some air." In a small frenzy, she forced her trembling body to get up, feet quick despite her stumbling, to move away as fast as possible. To where? She had no clue, but away from those dull eyes that absorbed all light around them.

There was a tunnel barely opposite the one they had come from, not as narrow though, in which she made her way into and hid behind the first corner of rocks she could find. They were cold against her back as she looked for some kind of support. She didn't realise her hand had been already on her mouth the moment she had left the fireplace and Childe behind her back.

She cried. She cried until there was no tear left in her. And yet, even after no tear would roll anymore on her cheeks, she kept sobbing quietly until even those died in her chest.

Aether's eyes. They were the same as his.

That was what had frightened her the most.

Aether eyes had been exactly like Childe's: dull and lifeless.

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, her cheeks with the fabric on her arms to get rid of any tears that were left on her face. A deep breath and with her gaze down, she at last made her way back even if slowly to the fireplace that Childe must have kept alive while she had succumbed to exhaustion. Silence hung heavy on her shoulders. He must have seen everything; the panic in her eyes, the shaking of her body, perhaps even heard her brother's name called in despair. She always made sure to carefully hide any kind of vulnerability; so carefully she often didn't even know how to deal with her own emotions herself. And of all people who could have caught that miserable act of hers, it was him.

Even so, her head was too much in a state of distress to really think about her company. So as still as the rocks around them she sat across him once again, only her own arms to embrace her own body as if it could keep her safe from the grief that was corroding her from the inside. She had no strength left to even care anymore, about expectations, about his disappointment. Let the world crash on her shoulders for some time, let its weight bury her until she can find the strength to raise again, as she always did.

[imogenkol]

— FRACTURES

[ template by @sevikagf ]

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[pergaminaa]

Modern au

Manon’s grandmother doesn’t see Manon’s daughter much, if at all. It was a decision both Manon and Dorian have agreed on; Dorian knows how vile the woman is, and while Manon is not cutting the woman off completely, she won’t let her daughter be subjected to that woman.

The Blackbeak matron doesn’t care either way. She knows of the child’s existence, and she already knows that she’s a lost cause, not worthy of her time and energy.

But you know which (great) grandmother gets unlimited time with the child? Glennis.

The woman is so kind and motherly and so very caring. She wants to spend time with the child, and despite the hiccups with Manon (she’s trying okay, but she can’t magically unlearn everything and be normal. But Manon knows that Glennis is a safe person which is why she has no issues dropping off her child at her great grandmother’s house)

Glennis loves it. She knows that while Manon struggles a lot with her feelings, the fact that she’s trusting her with her child for hours is telling the old woman all she needs to know. Manon just can’t express herself properly and that fine, her actions are enough.

So really, whenever Dorian and Manon plan something just for the two of them, baby is dropped off at Glennis’ house to spend a whole day bonding with her grandmother. Also, whenever Bronwen knows the baby is there, she visits Glennis and spend time with the baby.

So really, it’s just baby bonding with the Crochan side of the family with no issues because they’re safe and Manon actually trust them. As for the Blackbeak side, she only trusts her Thirteen and that’s about it.

[mightybeewrites]

Child of the Bat

Yandere! Batfamily x Neglected Reader

Chapter 1:

first, next

Synopsis: you and your mystery horror author mother moved to Gotham for a fresh new start. At first you hated the idea of moving. You wanted to stay in Georgia with all of your friends and all of the familiar faces but soon you had to say goodbye. A few months into your new Gothamite life—disaster struck and your mother died. It was revealed that you’re also Bruce Wayne’s bio child. And so you moved in with him and his sea of children. Will you survive this new change in your life? Or will you succumb to the pressures of Gotham and its corruption?

tw: character death

Author’s note: while I did write this in mind for a fem black reader, anybody is welcomed to read it. Never wrote one of these before, hope yall like it

--—————-

Your mother always told you that you had your father’s intense blue eyes and thick sharp eyebrows. You didn’t know how to feel about that. But everytime you’d see an interview about him or him walking the red carpet at an event, you could see it. It felt strange yet… comforting.

You sat in between your mother’s legs as the TV played the high society event as you felt your mother’s fingers intertwine the braids of your hair. You flinched a couple times when she braided too tightly but then quickly recovered.

As your mother braided your hair, you looked down as what you were working on.

“What do you have there, Y/N?” Your mother’s honey voice broke into your concentration.

Your blue eyes remained focused on your lap. The device you held was long and bulky—with wheels on both sides. “Oh, I’m trying to upgrade my skateboard.”

“Really?” Your mother also remained focus braiding your hair.

“Yeah, I wanna see if I can add rockets to my baby—so I can go anywhere. Maybe even the skies??”

Your mother stopped braiding as you felt her eyes on her. “Honestly I believe it’s a grand idea but… is this about failing your driver’s test?”

“…” you didn’t say anything and continued with your work.

“Oh (Y/N).. I understand you feel a certain type of way but—“

“It’s okay mom, I’ll figure something out. Driving.. it’s not for me. So that’s why I’ll try to get around some type of way. Maybe a rocket skateboard”

Your mother sighed and smiled, “or maybe some rocket shoes?”

“Yeah! That too!”

And with that, you two simply laughed.

—-

When she was finished with your hair, you had long braids that stopped to your lower back. Something that could last a good while.

You looked in the mirror and saw your reflection with your mother standing behind you. Her hands grasping your shoulders and staring in the mirror with you. Her long kinky starlight hair tied back in a puffball with a warm smile.

“You look so beautiful, my dear Y/N. I just know this new life will be great!”

—-

It rained a lot in Gotham. You could barely see the stars at night too. Because it was always hidden by dark stormy grey clouds.

Everything smelt bad—even on the rich side.

It rained a lot.

Even at her funeral.

You disassociated when the pastor read Psalms as a few others bowed their heads in respect.

Despite you being the only blood relative, everybody else was from Gotham Publication—the company that had you and your mother move all the way out here.

Your gaze was intense and your fists were balled up in anger and sadness.

She.. looked so peaceful. She looked as if she was sleeping. As if she could wake up any moment.

But she didn’t.

You wish she did but she didn’t.

———

Another a/n: hey all! Hope you enjoyed chapter 1! Really excited to share my own piece of the action. Plz expect more soon!

[keerysfreckles]

superglue — steve harrington

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when y/n is needed by steve and a middle schooler to fight an interdimensional dog

warnings: use of y/n, she/her pronouns, mentions of wounds and blood, some lines will not be accurate to the actual scene, possible spelling errors

a/n: back in my writing era specifically for my pookie aly @keerysbrowneyes <3 (going through my inbox asap i promise)

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n loved steve.

her and steve have been the best of friends since the middle of second grade, when steve asked if he could have one of y/n's chocolate dipped marshmellows her mother packed her. how could seven year old y/n say no to eight year old steve's lopsided smile and missing front teeth.

ever since the two have been inseparable. throughout middle school and high school steve somehow managed to drag y/n into all of his antics and strange behavior.

in eighth grade steve managed to get her to go with him to egg the principals house as a dare. and in freshman and sophomore year he convinved her and his large group of friends to go skinny dipping while it was barely thirty degrees outside. (they all got frostbite and couldn't feel their fingers or toes for a solid week).

these reasons explain why him and some middle schooler were standing in front of y/n's red front door.

"why are we asking this girl for help? we could've been halfway down the train tracks right now!"

"will you relax? you said the more help we get the better the plan will be."

after three knocks on the door, it opens to reveal y/n with the most confused expression steve has ever seen on the girl.

she points to the kid, "why do you have a child with you? what-"

the child in question raises his hand to shake y/n's, catching her off gaurd.

"dustin henderson, pleasure. now we need to go," with that he walks back towards steve's parked car, making him deliver some form of an explanation.

y/n crosses her arms as steve finally responds.

"it's a very long story, but me and dustin need your help with something."

steve's big brown eyes lock with y/n's in a plead, as he flashes a dopey smile. she sighs, not questioning anything while slipping her shoes on to follow steve to his car.

steve taps the passenger seat window.

"what?" dustin asks.

"it's y/n's seat, get out."

"the hell? i was here first steve. make her sit in the back."

y/n chuckled at the boys' bickering, smiling proudly as dustin fussed even more while getting in the back seat.

"can one of you explain why you dragged me out of my house on this fine saturday?" y/n asked a few minutes into the drive, watching steve drive towards the woods near her house.

"we're baiting a monster to a junk yard," dustin deadpans as steve parks the car next to a set of train tracks.

y/n only laughs, but still gets out of the car, only to be met with steve and dustin pulling buckets of meat, gloves and backpacks out of the trunk.

"you can't be serious right now. there's no such thing as monsters," y/n chuckles again.

"just put some gloves on and help," dustin demands.

"only if you have proof of said monster."

"oh we'll have proof," steve replies. the slight waver in his voice confirms well enough for y/n not to take this lightly, as she grabs a bucket of meat in her gloved hands.

the trio started walking down the train tacks, y/n and steve stayed relatively close to each other, while dusting walked a few feet ahead of them.

"so what kind of monster are we baiting with all this meat?" y/n asks.

dustin stops and turns to the older teenagers before responding, "picture a dog. now add slime and teeth and gross viens and a long tail. oh and no face."

y/n simply nods, while dustin turns back around.

the trio walked a few feet again before steve starts a conversation with dustin.

"all right let me get this straight. you kept something you probably knew was dangerous just to impress some girl?"

"okay that's grossly oversimplifying things," dustin exaggerates.

"why would she like some slug anyway?"

"i thought you said it was a dog," y/n pipes up from behind the boys.

"it was a slug, but now it's a dog," dustin answers, before looking back towards steve, "and it's an interdimensional slug? cause it's awesome," he giggles.

"don't you think you're trying to hard? what if she doesn't even think the slug is cool?"

"not everyone can have your perfect hair all right?" dustin lets out a sight of defeat.

steve shakes his head, "it's not about the hair man. the key with girls is to act like you don't care. drives 'em nuts."

y/n can't help but roll her eyes as dustin asks, "even if you do care?"

"exactly."

"then what?" curiosity fills dustin's voice again.

"you uh, wait till you feel it," steve smirks.

"feel what?"

"y'know like before it's gonna storm, you'll feel this like, electricity."

dustin starts going on a small rant about electromagnetic currents, before steve cuts him off.

"no no no, like a sexual electricity. you feel that, that's when you make your move."

y/n can't believe her best friend was giving a twelve year old relationship advice. she starts zoning out, continuing to plop down chunks of meat every now and then on the weathered train tracks.

the boys in front of her continue their conversation.

"what type is y/n?"

steve looks behind him, noticing the girl is a bit farther behind them, "what about her?"

"well is she a ninja? lion? some other secret third option?"

"y/n's different. she's not like any other girl i've met. that's why she's my best friend."

"bullshit."

steve's caught off gaurd, "sorry, what? what's bullshit?"

"you two are way more than friends."

"oh yeah? how do you know that? you just met her today, and have some analysis on us?"

"well considering you've brought her up in almost every conversation we've had, wanted to go to her for help with dart, and now are calling her different from other girls. i'm just doing the math."

"yeah, well stop," steve deadpans, sighing as he looks back at the girl again.

a few minutes of silence goes by, as y/n now catches up to steve and dustin.

"faberge," steve blurts out.

both y/n and dustin's eyebrows furrow.

"what?" dustin asks.

"it's faberge organics."

y/n starts giggling from besides steve, knowing where this is probably going. in all eleven years of knowing steve "the hair" harringon, not once has she been told his secret hair care routine.

"use the shampoo and conditioner when your hair's damp, not wet okay?"

"not wet, damp," dustin repeats.

"then four puffs of farrah fawcett spray."

this makes y/n burst out laughing, making dustin join in as well.

"something funny to you?" steve turns, annoyed by his best friend.

y/n shakes her head, "no, no of course not. other than the fact you use a girl's hair styling products."

"you guys tell anyone i told you this," he points at both dustin and y/n, "your asses are grass, got it?"

they both nod, before dustin asks, "farrah fawcett, really?"

"i mean she's hot."

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

after what felt like forever, y/n, steve and dustin made it to the junkyard dustin was leading them to.

"good call dude," steve praises as y/n pats dustin on the back, making the boy smile.

they pile the rest of the meat into a large pile in the middle of the junkyard, when a new voice makes them look to the right.

y/n guesses it's some of dustin's friends, but he doesn't look happy about them being here.

dustin drags the other boy behind a red rusted car, while the girl walks over to y/n and steve.

"hey, i'm max," she holds out her hand.

"i'm y/n, and that over there is steve," max nods. "i think the plan is to grab any trash we can find to cover the windows on this bus, alright?"

with that the new trio quickly begin covering the bus with old plates of metal, car doors, and wire, before steve goes off to find dustin and his friend.

the second friend of dustin's soon introduces himself to y/n, making the girl smile at all the kids' kindness towards her.

time went by far too quickly, as the sun was now setting and the group of five was sitting in different places around the bus.

lucas was on top of the bus with a pair of binoculars glued to his eyes. max was sitting in one of the torn up bus seats. dustin was anxiously pacing. y/n and steve were sitting next to each other on the floor, while steve was busy flicking a lighter.

"so you really fought one of these things before? and you're sure it wasn't a bear?"

"shit, don't be an idiot okay? if you don't believe us, just go home," dustin pouts.

"jeez, past someone's bed time?" max replies, before going up the ladder in the direction of lucas.

"dustin!" y/n scolds.

"that's good, just show her you don't care."

y/n punches steve in the arm.

"i don't," dustin responds.

steve turns as dustin sits down. he notices y/n's nervous habit of picking at her nails. the last time he noticed her do it was sophomore year before her driving test. and now a year and a half later she was doing it again.

"hey, you okay?" he stops flicking the lighter.

y/n nods, "yeah. i mean i've never fought a monster before," she smiles slightly.

"you'll be fine, trust me. i'll protect you," steve smiles at her, watching as the worry leaves her tired eyes.

"thanks steve."

the sweet moment however was cut short, by a distant growling noise, and dustin jumping up to the wire covered slit in the side of the bus.

"lucas, what's happening?"

"hold on!" lucas yells.

"who knew twleve year olds could be full of so much sass?" y/n questions as steve helps her up off the floor.

"right?" he agrees with a low chuckle.

everyone on the bus soon spots the monster they were looking for. y/n couldn't help but grip steve's jacket sleeve tighter than she was a minute ago, when she sees the monster's face.

well, resemblance of a face. she shivers at the light chittering noises as he sniffs the pile of meat.

"why isn't he taking the bait?" dustin asks no one in particular.

"maybe he's not hungry," y/n guesses.

"maybe he's sick of cow," steve then answers, beginning to back away from y/n and dustin, just as max climbs down the ladder.

"steve, what are you doing?" dustin asks.

"just get ready," he tosses y/n his lighter, as he grabs a bat from besides the door.

"steve are you insane? you could get killed out there," y/n hisses, only wanting him to say he's joking and stand next to her again.

y/n's breath hitches as steve goes out the busted doors and into the lion's den. or would it be dog's den?

whatever it may be, it only stresses the older girl out more once the demodog can be seen in front of steve.

as steve stops mocking the demodog, he swings his nailed back more times than he can count, as he runs away from the monster whenever it chases him.

the three younger kids begin yelling for him at the same time, panicking for him. y/n can only bite her nails and watch in terror as her best friend might be killed in the next five minutes.

"he's insane," max calls out.

"he's awesome," dustin responds with a smile.

lucas calls out from above, alerting steve of the other dogs approaching.

"there's more of them?" y/n questions dustin.

dustin avoids her question before yelling through the window, "steve! abort!"

max and y/n join in on the yelling, until y/n begins opening the bus doors.

steve stumbles up the steps and is out of breath after he shoves the door closed, now only inches away from y/n.

"you're an idiot."

"are they rabid or something?" max asks.

"they can't get in! they can't!" dustin yells as one of the dogs rams itself against the metal doors.

steve grabs y/n's arm to bring her away from any form of danger, something he's gotten used to doing over the past few years.

dustin begins yelling god knows what into his walkie talkie set, as lucas climbs down the ladder and into the group of worried kids.

y/n takes in a deep breath and grabs steve's bat from out of his hands.

"y/n what the hell?" he asks, before his eyes widen, watching her begin the trek up the ladder.

he grabs her waist, stopping her, "what on earth do you think you're doing?"

"what if more are up there?"

"then let me handle it!" he whisper-yells.

"no, you stay here with the kids. they seem to trust you more."

y/n starts walking up the ladder again, definitely missing the feeling of steve's big hands on her waist.

y/n makes it to the top of the bus, clutching the nailed bat in her hands until her knuckles practically turn white. her head twists and body turns at any sound she hears, not wanting to take any chances at missing one of those dogs.

she fully turns around at the sound of claws on metal, watching as a demodog crawls onto the top of the bus.

the color in her face drains as she beings walking towards it. steve and the kids inside the bus can't help but start calling out her name, just like they all did when steve was outside.

the demodog growls at her, as y/n holds the bat up, ready to swing. however another demodog makes it way up from the other end of the bus.

thankfully, dustin notices the faint prints of the dog's feet towards the back and is quick to alert steve.

"y/n!" he yells up the ladder, "there's two, you have to get down!"

"i'm kinda busy here!" her voice shakes, and she prays that steve doesn't notice. he does.

once the first demodog is close enough, she swings the bat with as much force as she can muster and it rolls off the bus onto the dried grass beneath her.

she lets out a sigh of relief, althoguh steve's words finally register, just as the second demodog runs towards her and slashes it's claws through her left leg. the force makes it so y/n falls forward, making steve's bat fall out of her hands and lands with a thud farther down the bus.

steve's head immediately picks itself up as he hears y/n's ear splitting scream, followed by the call of steve's name. he skips two rings at a time as he climbs the ladder, scrambling to get through the opening.

his eyes widen as y/n's trying her hardest to kick the demodog away, but move away from it at the same time. however she can't move much because of the pain seering up her leg. steve turns his head, noticing his bat behind him, and is as quick as possible to swing at the dog. he gets the dog off the bus in two swings.

as soon as he takes another look at y/n, he drops the bat and kneels in front of her.

"hey, hey you're okay," his calm voice is an exact opposite of everything the two teens just went through.

y/n shakes her head and cries more as steve looks down at the gashes in her leg. there's three thick lines of skin missing, with blood dripping down her leg, ruining her pants and single converse.

out of instinct, steve takes off his signature grey jacket and places it over y/n's leg. she reaches forward and holds onto steve's arm as if her life depended on it.

"steve!" she cries more.

"i know. i know it hurts baby," the petname rolls of his tongue before he can stop it, "but we need to stop the bleeding okay? it'll help in the long run."

y/n leans her head forward, crying into steve's neck as he continues tending to her.

"dustin! max! lucas! i need your help!"

the three middle schoolers come up quickly, dustin already looking for things in his backpack as he sits down besides steve.

lucas helps dustin find anything to help stop the bleeding, as max sits next to y/n and rubs her back.

steve throws his now bloodied jacket somewhere on the top of the bus, as dustin hands him a few paper towels. steve's heart rate calms slightly as the blood flow has slowed down since he began helping y/n.

"will this work?" lucas asks steve, holding out a worn out bandage wrap from his own backpack.

steve nods, before dustin quickly takes the paper towels, only wanting to help steve.

"this is gonna sting a little okay? and it might be tight, but it's okay, yeah?" steve's calm voice floods her ears again.

he feels her nod against him and mutter oout a 'yeah', before he carefully wraps the bandage around her leg. once he finshes, his hand hovers over the area, as he rubs his tumb back and forth.

"you're okay," steve whispers against the top of her head, and kisses her hair.

her hold on his shirt loosens and her breathing starts going back to his normal state.

"hey there champ," steve smiles as she brings her face out of his neck. steve wipes under her eyes with his thumb.

"you think you can walk?" dustin asks carefully, definitely not wanting to piss y/n or steve off at the moment.

y/n nods, "i'm definitely going to need some help."

the three kids are the first to go down the ladder, grabbing their bags, and steve's bat and bloodied jacket.

steve helps y/n down the ladder, and once she's at the bottom, lucas and dustin help her stand until steve reaches the bottom.

the same process is made until everyone is standing outside the bus. y/n is leaning practically all her body weight against steve, making sure not to lean on her injured leg.

"do you think steve scared them off?" lucas broke the silence, now noticing none of the demodogs were around them anymore.

"no, no way."

"jeez thanks," steve responds to dustin's response, after wrapping his arm tighter around y/n's waist.

"they were going somewhere," dustin continues.

"where?" max asks.

"the lab," dustin and lucas say at the same time.

just as the group begins walking towards the forest, after dustin hands out flashlights for everybody, y/n winces as she tries to take a few steps.

"you guys okay?" dustin asks.

"yeah, yeah, you guys start walking. we'll be there in a few," steve responds, helping y/n sit down on the hood of an abandoned car.

"are you okay?" steve rubs over the denim of y/n's pants, making his hands rest on her thighs.

she nods, "yeah it just feels weird."

now steve nods, before she speaks up again.

"you called me baby."

"what?"

"up on the top of the bus," she explained, "you called me baby."

steve's face instantly become pink as his cheeks felt hot.

"oh, i uh, i didn't mean to. it was kind of in the heat of the moment i guess. i swear i-"

y/n cuts him off, "i liked it."

"oh?" is all steve can get out.

y/n nods again, "i really liked it. and maybe this is just the blood loss talking, but i really like you steve."

steve is silent as she continues rambling.

"i've liked you since you took me to the eighth grade dance, in that stupid blue dress my mom made me wear. i've liked you since you invited me to that stupid pool party with nancy wheeler when you liked her. i've liked you since you helped me find my car in the school parking lot," she pauses as they both let out a laugh. "i've liked you forever steve."

steve lets y/n's words sink in. as he does his smile only grows wider.

"i've liked you forever too," he begins to lean closer to y/n.

he's now fully standing between y/n's legs, not letting his hands fall from her thighs. he captures her lips gently at first, feeling her hands move to hold onto his shoulders.

he deepens the kiss, both of them letting years of untold love fall onto the other's lips. y/n's hands move up towards his hair, holding the strands in the back between her fingers.

y/n is the first to pull back, solely to catch her breath and so she can admire a lovestruck steve. her hands move down from his hair to his biceps, as his still stay on her thighs.

"hey steve?" her voice is quiet.

he hums a response.

"do you think you could carry me to this lab we're going to?"

steve smiles and nods, "i was hoping you'd ask."

y/n giggles as he's being as gentle as possible to pick her up off the car and into his arms. he leans forward to kiss her forehead before he starts walking.

"i'm sorry i ruined your favorite jacket," she apologizes as she leans her head on steve's shoulder.

"it's okay, i needed a new one anyway."

[chloeangelic]

Belong to me, I: Chosen  

Line cook Joel x waitress reader

Line cook Joel AU masterlist

Summary: You desperately want a baby and hope that your grumpy coworker will help make your dream a reality.

Warnings:  Smut, yearning, mild angst, age gap (Joel is 40, reader in her late 20s), mild brat taming, creampie, breeding kink, size kink, description of glass related injury/blood, social smoking, dom Joel (not degrading), ovulation sex, unprotected PIV, mutual pining, rough sex, size kink, ass play.

A/N: Posted a day early cause of the overwhelming response on the masterlist🥺🤍 I'm turning this into an AU that I can post to at random and just kinda use as a creative free space like I did with this, so there will be more parts :))

Word count: 4.8k Rating: 18+

You had a dream one night. 

A dream that you were holding a child, your child, a little baby who came from you, whose home was your body for the overwhelming majority of her life. You held her in your arms, cradled her, ran the very tip of your finger over her little nose, stroked her soft cheek and looked into her eyes, seeing yourself in their reflection. 

You had dropped her off at your friend’s house to watch her while you went and visited your parents, but when you returned, you could not find her. You searched and searched, asked every person you came across if they had seen her, but nobody had. And when you woke up, you felt that same gut wrenching anxiety over your missing child that you felt in the dream. Like she was still out there, but you had no way of getting to her.  

And ever since then, you’ve felt a vacancy in your heart somehow, a pull towards something intangible, something you know you will love and cherish with your whole heart and take care with all the energy you can muster, as soon as it is in your hands. 

Yearning. 

A deep, almost excruciating yearning for a baby, the baby in that dream, a baby you will not have anytime soon if you are dependent on the presence of a husband or even a boyfriend to provide you with one. For as long as you can remember, you have wanted to be a mother, and it feels as though your opportunity is slipping through your fingers, even at your young age, as you watch friend after friend go off with their significant other and establish families, and you’re still single, not even looking for a special someone.

You want what they have, unbearably so, and have gotten to a point where you think you might crumble if you never get the chance to raise a child, but the idea of dating does not appeal to you, and you would rather just do it all yourself. 

One time your friend asked you, “If someone put a gun to your head and told you that you have to have a kid with someone right now, who would you choose?”. You didn’t have an answer at the time, but you do now. It’s been simmering in the back of your mind for a while; the answer to that question. You’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, about how it feels like the right time for you to have this baby you so desperately want. 

During the afternoons and evenings, you serve tables at a busy restaurant downtown. It’s not the world’s most interesting job, but you think you’re generally well liked at that establishment, you’re friends with everyone, and the shifts go by relatively quickly. 

You walk in through the large doors, waving to Maddy as she escorts a couple to their table, swinging past the bar stools, making your way to the back office to take off your jacket and slip into your heels, giving your hair a quick look over in the mirror before you walk into the kitchen.

And there he is - the answer to your friend’s question. Too tall for the countertops and always hunched over, too broad for the narrow hallways at the back of the house. Big, very big, so muscular, with shoulders and biceps so large you wonder if he spends all his free time working out. Grumpy, never in what one would call a 'good mood', convinced that approving or disapproving grunts count as full answers when someone asks him something. 

Joel, a scowling and silent mountain of a man. 

Sometimes you sneak out during his break just to chat him up behind the restaurant, even stealing smokes from your coworker to give him a reason to spend more time with you. His scent is intoxicating every time you sit there huddled next to him, especially when it’s cool out and you shove your entire body into the side of his arm and his thigh, his skin as hot as a furnace.

Even his sweat, at the end of the worst shift one can possibly imagine, smells good. He smells like cologne and fresh laundry and what you presume to be combo shampoo and body wash considering he doesn’t give much of a fuck about anything that isn’t his daughter and he’s not exactly what one would call vain.  

It seems, however, as if he gives a little bit of a fuck about you.

Sometimes it even feels like he looks out for you. 

And you wouldn’t have had this suspicion had it not been for the fact that you brutally cut your hand on a shard of glass a few months back when a vase tumbled and you stupidly tried to catch it. You looked at your bloody hand, heard the snap of Joel’s fingers and a few commands before you were suddenly in his truck on the way to the ER.

He sat there with you, pressing a wad of gauze to the cut until you were called in by the doctor, waited until you came out, then stopped at the pharmacy to get an excess of things you might need, and drove you home. He even stayed with you until you were fed and passed out watching a movie on your couch. 

After that day, you’ve felt like his eyes are always on you, his scowl seeming more concerned than menacing, his hands suddenly there to catch you every time you’re about to trip over yourself. Something about the feeling of being protected by him has made your heart and ovaries twist around themselves, making that yearning for a baby incredibly urgent.

You want his baby now, whether he’s present or not, and you’ve decided that you’re gonna ask him for a little favor when ovulation comes around and you feel slick and needy and desperate for his come. 

Which just so happens to be tonight. 

The restaurant seems to get busier the second you step into the dimly lit lounge, sending you back and forth between the kitchen and your tables more times than you can count, trying to think of how to formulate yourself, how not to scare him off. 

You eventually check the time and see that it’s close to Joel’s usual forced break time, and decide that you might as well take your own break now too, needing to speak to him as soon as possible. So you hear the clicks of your heels as you nearly run through the kitchen, grab the lighter from the office and push open the doors to see him already sitting there outside, his face tilted up so the sun hits his skin and bounces off the silver in his otherwise brown hair. 

“You mind?” you ask as you close the door, and he nods for you to sit down next to him, already reaching down to commit coworker theft. It always feels casual, calm, even relaxing in some way, to sit out here with him, but tonight you’re on the edge, knowing he’ll never speak to you again if your request falls flat. 

He puts the cigarette between his lips and looks at you while he waits for you to light it, but your hands tremble around the lighter as you try to hold it up. His eyes narrow for a moment, then his hands come up to hold around yours, making them disappear under his large palms, holding them steady and looking into your eyes until the flame catches and he pulls back. “What’s on your mind?” he asks, his accent slurring the words together slightly.

You have a speech ready, an explanation about this longtime want and need and yearning to become a mother, a rationale for why you’re ready, why you want to do this as a single woman in her late twenties, an excuse for why you don’t want to go to a clinic and find a donor who’s a Harvard graduate in his early thirties.

Why it is you want him, Joel, to be the one to give this to you, and how he doesn’t have to do anything, emotionally or physically or financially, when you finally get what you want. 

But your plan falls flat as you open your mouth, your gaze locked to his dark eyes. “I wanna have a baby” is all that comes out, breathy and longing and absolutely not casual like you planned. 

You watch as he flicks the ashes off the cigarette and takes a drag, looking at you with an unreadable expression, then exhaling away from you before he says, “Sweetheart.. The fuck does that gotta do with me?”. 

You roll your eyes at him, never threatened or intimidated or insulted by his tone. There is something you find oddly charming about his ability to be grumpy for hours on end and seemingly never cheer up, any pleasant surprise met with the raise of his eyebrows and a slow nod. “I wanna have a baby, now, I don’t wanna wait to meet some prince charming and get married and do all that shit.. I’m happy raising it by myself, I-”

“And?” he asks then, the creases around his eyes getting deeper as a look of confusion creeps up on his face, “Why exactly are you tellin’ me this and not your girlfriends?”. You take a moment to figure out how to damage control, how to reel the situation back in and not scare him off any more, while you watch the smoke rising from between his two fingers, one thick arm resting over his knee. 

“I want you to get me pregnant, Joel” you finally say, running your hand up his thigh, unable to cover the expanse of it with your fingers splayed out, and the feel of his muscle tensing under your hands makes you clench around yourself, warm wetness starting to seep out into your panties, “Please? I promise I won’t waste your time”. 

He’s frozen, looking at your innocent expression and the subtle slouch in your shoulders. It’s too fucking hard to resist you, your doe eyes and little pout, and there’s something in your tone that makes his shock die down quickly, getting replaced by a strange feeling of flattery. A feeling he’s not used to. Not to mention the disbelief he feels at the prospect of you wanting to get in bed with him.

He can surely find it in himself do this for you without getting attached, without worrying about this child day in and day out, or about you. He hopes he can, hopes that he's too old to worry now. He won’t bother you, he’ll stay out of your business unless you need something. It’s an act of kindness from him, really, and it’s about time he does something nice for someone other than Sarah, who’s been the only one on the receiving end of all his care and love for the past sixteen years. Besides, you're a nice girl, why wouldn't he want to do something for you? 

And more importantly, why on earth would he pass up the opportunity to fuck you? To have you under him, to see what’s hiding beneath those black pants stretched to their absolute limit by the thickness of your ass, to hear what you sound like when you come, to know what you taste like, to know how your lips feel on his, not just on his cheek when you thank him for putting food aside for you. 

You’re too pretty and too young for him, he knows that, he’s known that since the first time he felt that little flutter in his chest at the sound of you calling his name. Now all he can do is cook for you, leave it under tightly wrapped aluminum foil on the desk in the back office so it stays warm, knowing you’ll look for it there when you run away from your shift in search of something to eat, with a post it note on top, your name sharpied on it, waiting for you.

Just like he waits for you, waits for the moment he sees you every day and hears you say his name again. Hey Joel, the same as always, nothing special, but bubbly when everyone else seems intimidated by him.

He has a little crush on you, a massive one actually, one he hates to admit that he's had for a while now. Ever since you sat out on the stoop behind the restaurant with him for the first time and shared a cigarette you stole from Jermaine. The guy thinks he hides the pack well, but sometimes when Joel comes out to get some air and you’re the only other one who shared the idea, you fish it out from under the steps and slip one out, seldom enough to where he’s sure not to notice. 

You teased him for something that first time, and he can’t remember what. A year has gone by, but the sound of your giggle at his disapproval has rattled around in his mind every day since. You frequently tease him, wait for him to roll his eyes, then attempt to tickle him before he grabs your wrist and holds it tight until his break is over, and he pulls you up to your feet, with his other hand on your waist, letting you in the door first before he shuts it behind him.

One time, when he held your eyes for a little longer than normal, he considered asking you out, but thought better of it and closed his mouth as soon as it opened. He wonders why you're single, how it's possible for a man not to want to make you his, why-

“Fuck”, he jumps a little as he lets go of the cigarette and flicks his wrist frantically, trying to soothe the part of his fingers burnt by the ashes creeping down to his skin as he sat there speechless and not paying attention.

“Well?” you ask as if nothing happened, watching his muscles flex under his t-shirt, “What do you say?”.   

“Jesus” he whispers, a contemplative shake of his head as his eyes dart around. He should ask why you want him to do it, should suggest every other dumbass working in this place, should tell you no, that he’s too old for you and you’re too beautiful and full of life and too good for this place. But he can’t find it in himself to pass up this chance, and he knows he would fuck you right. He would be good to you. He wants to be good to you.   

“That’s all you want?” he asks dryly, then a long exhale, staring into your eyes, “You want me to fuck you?”. Ten years ago he might’ve been more subtle, but he's lived too much since then, and trying to find ways to sugarcoat what needs to be said feels like a waste of his time. The sound of his deep voice makes you shudder.

“I just need you to come inside me,” you purr, nervous as hell all of a sudden, wrapping your finger in his hair, ”And I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time, so.. You can do whatever you want to me”. He glances at your lips as you talk, shoulders shifting under his t-shirt and a swallow passing through his throat. “So you’ll do it?” you ask after a moment. 

He’s not passing up on this chance, already half hard at the mere idea of being inside you and counting how many goddamn seconds he has left on his shift. All he does is nod in response, his eyes going a little wide. “Thanks, Joel” you say then, as you stand up and brush off your pants, “I’ll send you my address, I need you over tonight, okay?”. You lean down to place a kiss on his cheek and disappear back inside. 

He stays sitting out there a few minutes longer than he’s supposed to, regretting not jerking off in the shower that morning, running his hand down his face and trying to figure out how he can make himself last longer than a minute. 

-

More than anything, it’s strange to see him like this, to see a new side of someone you’ve been around so much. It’s difficult to conceptualize the side of him that is private, intimate, personal. You've thought about him as just a man sometimes, not a coworker, and wondered what he might be like in situations like these. In bed. You wonder if you’ll see him differently after this, if it’ll be impossible to look him in the eyes at work when you’ve felt the size and shape of his cock, when you know what he sounds like when he comes, how he tastes, what he likes. 

“So, uh-” he says, as you sit on his lap with his feet planted on the floor at the edge of your bed, “What's the best way to do this?”. He corrects himself after a second, “How do you wanna do this?”. He has his hands around your waist, big and warm, and your arms are wrapped around his neck as you lightly tug at his curls.

“I didn't really think that far” you giggle, and he chuckles softly, likely picking up on your nerves.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asks then.

“Um, yeah, sure” is all you manage to say before you feel his hand around the back of your neck, holding the weight of your head as he kisses you like you've never been kissed before. The scratch of his mustache against your skin is oddly soothing, and his lips are soft, his tongue molten and slippery as it sweeps into your mouth. You exhale into him until your lungs are empty, becoming entirely pliant in his hold, one hand steadying your back as you try to keep from collapsing into his chest. 

A whimper escapes your throat, and he whispers, I got you, as he lays you down on the bed and rests his weight on his elbows, hovering over you and spreading your legs. His clothed cock pushes into you as he rolls his hips, forcing more of those little whimpers out and you can feel your pulse deep down where you buck your hips to grind on him. 

He undresses you carefully, not leaving a single item of clothing on, wanting to see your naked form. He rolls you onto your stomach and takes the opportunity to let his hands and lips and tongue explore every part of your backside, from your ankles to your ass to your shoulders, giving a little extra attention to your plush cheeks, that he pulls apart and then lands a swat to on one side, making you giggle as he soothes his hand over the mark, already starting to sting from his strength. 

You roll onto your back again and start to claw at his shirt. He reaches back to pull it off, revealing the muscular upper body you’ve wondered about for what seems like forever - years, now. A strange smile tugs at your lips as you look at him, at his arm flexing as he opens your knees to spread your legs, and he leans down to kiss you as he drags his knuckles up and down your center. 

He pushes two fingers into you and you moan, loudly, too loudly. He shushes you, kisses you again as you writhe under him and grind against his hand until he finds the right spot, the one that makes you arch your back and start begging him to fuck you. He slides his fingers out and looks down to see a thick, glossy string hanging between his two of his digits, raising an eyebrow in what you assume is awe. “Told you I needed you tonight” you purr.

He huffs a little in response, “I can tell”. 

He immediately finds your clit with the pads of his fingers, and rubs, slowly then fast, slowly then fast, as he unbuckles his belt with his other hand and shucks off his jeans, then his boxers, and lays on your side with his hard cock resting against your hip.

You start to squirm as he pushes his thick fingers inside you again, curls them a few times and slips them out, going back to massage your clit. “I know” he coos, “You want more, huh?”. All you can do is moan and nod, feeling your orgasm starting to pool at the bottom of your spine. 

“It's okay, just let me take my time with you”, he rubs you a little faster, firmer, as he watches your breathing get erratic, “Wanna fuck you right”. He wants to watch you come, has been fantasizing about it for such a long time, wants to see it and hear it and feel it. “I’m gonna give you my cock soon, okay?” he murmurs, “Don't want it to be painful for you, my girl, need you to come for me first”. And something about his words gives you the last push you need, making you come as you whimper his name over and over. 

He gets between your legs then, knocking his knee against yours to open you up, and leans over, taking his cock in his hand and nudging the leaking head into your opening. You can feel your thick, slippery wetness spill onto him, and you hear him grunt, fisting his length a few times with your slick and pushing in slowly, stretching you obscenely and filling you to the brim before he’s fully inside.

You shouldn’t be surprised at the overwhelming size of it, considering how he towers over you and is the only person you know who makes you feel tiny, but his cock rubs against every soft spot inside you and stimulates every nerve in your body, reaching a depth nobody has ever touched before.

He fucks you with deep strokes, reaching all the way to the end of you before he withdraws halfway and pushes back in, breathing hard and squeezing his hands around your hips so tightly you can feel the marks forming. You need him even deeper. “Harder, Joel, please, please“ you beg, “I’m so fucking wet and you feel so good, I- please, oh god, please”. Your voice is filled with desperation, and he wants to hear it every day for the rest of his life, the sound of you on your knees for him, wanting him and everything he can give you. 

“Relax.” he says sternly, shoving you into the mattress with a thrust and holding you there with his strong hands, trapping you under him and forcing you to stay still as his cock slides in and out smoothly.

“I can’t, just hurry up, please, fuck me faster, I need it” you nag then, whiny and annoying, snapping your fingers.

He pauses then, leans over to stare down into your eyes, “Do you want my come or not?”. 

“Ugh, yes”, you groan, letting out a few soft grunts as you try to shift around in his grasp and push down onto him harder somehow.

“Settle then”, his voice is stern again, commanding but patient, as if he has all the time in the world.

“Come on, Joel”, you stretch your back and try to escape his gaze, digging your nails into his shoulders and feeling your walls fluttering around him.

His hand wraps around your throat then, and his face is close to yours, that dark gaze unrelenting and demanding your attention. “Settle down” he says calmly, and holds you pinned right there until he feels your body relaxing, your slick dripping down his shaft and your nipples tickling his chest. 

He flips you over and pulls you up and onto your knees, arms stretched out over your head as he slides all the way into you and the pressure on your cervix makes you try to squirm away. A useless endeavor. His hands rove around your ass cheeks and you hear a quiet shit above you, followed by an equally low fuck me as he squeezes your flesh, pulls it apart, then spits onto your asshole. 

You feel him smear it into your skin with his thumb, whining at how he teases you, pushing his thumb into your tight hole slowly while he jacks himself with his other hand. You plead again, a long, drawn out please, Joel, then another oh god, please, a last more, more for good measure, and then he’s pushing the head of his cock into you, filling you with his thickness and finally inching his thumb into your ass. The intensity is overwhelming, and your eyes roll back as another orgasm nears. 

“Give me one more, baby, come on” he coos as he reaches around and rubs your clit.

You respond, barely coherent and not wanting him to stop, “I don't- I don’t think it'll determine if it takes or not.. How many times I c-come”.

He gives you a few strokes, overwhelming and hard and squelching with your arousal before he says, “I read in a fuckin’ article that it helps, or, I don’t know, something”.

You shift your eyes around a little, wanting to laugh, “You read an article saying that orgasms increase your likelihood of conceiving?”. 

“Just shut up and let me make you come, sweetheart,” he drawls, “Stop talkin’ so much”. His voice is low and husky as he rubs the back of your hip with one thumb and the other sinks deeper into your ass as you tighten around it.

“Why?” you ask, breathy and whiny, “All I need is your come, I- I’m not expecting-”.

He cuts you off quickly, whispering, “Jesus…”. 

“I’m not gonna have sex with you if you don't enjoy it, okay?” he says, “So just shut up and take my cock like a good girl, I know you can, I know you want it”. His hand snakes up to find your tit, squeezing it before rubbing your nipple with two of his fingers. 

“Besides, I know it makes you feel good, you can't hide it," he runs his palm down your back, smacks your ass firmly, then grabs it tight to stop the recoil, “You're about to soak my cock, I can tell.. Gettin’ all tense and shit”. He lifts your torso with his hand on your sternum, pulling you up and into him, shoving his face into your neck so you can listen to his growls while he fucks you.

Your orgasm hits you quite suddenly, and your head falls onto his shoulder as you pant. “How does it feel when I make you come? Huh, little bunny?”. You can’t answer, too blissed out and too fucked out to think, only mustering up a mumbled, uhhh. “Use your words now” he says, and flips you onto your back. 

He lines himself up and slams back in, folding your legs and pushing your thighs into your chest as he pounds you, “Come on, baby, tell me, how’s it feel to come all over my cock?”. You grab at the muscles of his arms, his shoulders and his chest, trying to get words out but only managing an incoherent mess of moans. So good, Joel, so good, you whimper. 

Then he wraps your legs around his waist and slips his arm under your back, and supports himself on his fist right beside your head, lifting you up to pound you harder, deeper, with more force as his thrusts gradually slow down and he breathes heavily, staring down at how your tits slide up and down your chest. “Say you want me to come inside you”, his voice is strained, and you can tell he’s holding back by the way his cock twitches. 

You take a deep breath, and coo, as softly as you can, “Want you to be my baby daddy, Joel”, and watch his face contort, his eyes closing and feel his arm tightening its grip around you. You moan a little, eyes rolling back at the intensity. “Come inside me, please,” you beg, “Wanna be full of you, want you to give me a baby, your baby”.

He groans at that, then pulls you up into his chest so closely you can feel the sweat dripping down from his hair and onto your skin, and his cock pulsating as he fills you with his come. You can tell it's a lot by how he throbs inside you incessantly, and moans, long and ragged, while he digs his face into the crook of your neck.

He lifts your hips up, staying buried inside you, and shoves a pillow under you as a mix of his come and your slick runs down between your asscheeks, onto the cover. He wraps his hand around your throat again and growls, into your ear, “You’re mine now, little thing, all mine”.

I have ditched my taglists, due to the majority of tags not working, and have created a notifications blog instead. Follow Angelic Notifs and turn your notifications on if you want my new fics served directly to you!

[fxtalitygod]

Survival. IX

Summary: You were determined to survive longer than anyone, even if you were set to marry him.

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, mentions of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 1-2x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint)

Word Count: 3.4k

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

You remembered the most content morning you had ever had. It was a relatively beautiful and tranquil day in the garden. The sky was clear, and the sun was beaming brightly, yet the weather was pleasant. It was the most satisfying day you had ever had within the temple.

It was also the day your twins spoke their first word.

You had been spending quality time with your twins, your attendant joining the activities as you both basked in their childish nature. She had grown as close as family and acted like an aunt to your kids, and if you were being honest, she felt like a sister to you in some sense. You truly appreciated her company and assistance throughout the time you had known her— especially when sharing this memorable moment.

It felt like it was out of a dream when the word effortlessly slipped from your daughter’s mouth. Moments ago, she was a child who only knew how to babble, laugh, and cry, but now she was a little girl capable of speaking. And if your daughter hadn’t surprised you enough, your son letting the same word slip next had left you paralyzed with shock.

“Mama.”

Yes, it was a standard word for a child to speak first other than Dada or Papa— a cliché, as most would say, but that was the last thing on your mind. To hear your child acknowledge you for the first time and know they recognize you as their mother was a pleasure that could not compare to the joys of sex, alcohol, or money– it is a pleasantry of its own. You swore you would do anything to hear them call you their "Mama" for as long as possible.

And if anyone took that away from you, they would be damned to hell.

The screams of a woman echoed through the temple. The shrieks were ear-splitting and could cause anybody's ears to bleed upon walking into the hearing radius. You could only listen as the screams continued, the sound muffling out as your ears began to ring again.

Why was she screaming? The woman in question should have been thrilled that your children were deceased– they would have been a threat to her. She was probably trying to win Sukuna's favor in some fucked up way. The bitch had no right to grieve in your presence nor in solitude. You had every want to strangle her soundless; however, something stopped you from that impulse.

Your throat began to burn.

At that moment, you realized the screams of grief and agony were those of your own. Nobody was present in that room, just you and Sukuna, as your cries echoed in the room and nearby halls. You were blinded by your own tears as you stared at the now-blurry image of your twin's hanging corpses, choking on your own sobs as you collapsed to the ground, holding your midriff with the painful thought that the life you had cultivated within you for nine months and raised for six years was now reduced to carcasses hanging from a wall.

Your blessings had been snatched from you, from right under your nose.

You should have known things would have not been so simple. You should have never let your guard down for even a second. This was your punishment for being so blissfully ignorant when you should have analyzed all the possible faults in your plan and anticipated any threats that remained to perform a clean escape.

You stood on weak legs, shuffling to the wall that was covered in blood. In your mind, you always thought that the blankness of those walls would drive you mad– you never anticipated that the splash of color would be the thing that forced you to insanity. The crimson dripping down the wall proved you wrong.

Your hands shook as your fingers hovered over the pins that were holding your children in place, flinching back as you swallowed the bile rising up your throat before reaching for one of the pins again. You made an attempt to hold back your sobs but with little success. Huffs, spittles, and gurgles continued to resonate from you as you held back your cries– you looked pathetic.

Your hands felt weak as you pulled the pin, the audible squelching sound of the flesh rubbing against the item sickening you to the core, yet you persisted. You pulled the lower pins that you could reach from your son and daughter, tears gushing out of your eyes as you did so. No torture was as great as this, especially when you went to reach the higher ones. You stood on your toes, stretching for the pins that were sunk into your twin's hands, but it was futile. Under normal circumstances, you could have reached that high; you would have improvised a way to do it, but your mind was numb, and your body felt weak.

"Help me," you choked as you continued to reach.

The only response you got was silence.

"Please," you weakly whispered, "Please, help me."

Silence lingered again, but before you could plea a second time– your husband spoke.

"Why?"

You paused in your movement, your breath hitching as the simple word echoed in your head.

"Why?" you repeated, bewilderment found in your whisper, "Why?"

Your head slowly turned to look over your shoulder, your eyes gleaming with fury as you looked at Sukuna.

"I'll tell you why," you seethed, "For eight years, I have lived in this temple with you and your sickened whores and bastards– lived in your residence with little to no complaint. I have endured everything bestowed upon me and have managed to keep my spine straight with my head held high– and when in your presence, I have given you nothing but the lowest bows of respect despite the falsities of that action; I sacrificed my pride!" you paused to breathe before continuing, "I bore you children and dealt the blunt trauma of my impossible pregnancy and labor without complaint or ask of favor because you and I both know I would have gladly died in the process. In my life here, I have asked you for ONE SINGULAR FAVOR that would benefit both of us!"

Another pause as you caught your breath.

"The very least you could do," your voice shook with exasperation, "is grant me this one selfish wish."

"Do you understand the line you are crossing, Little Flower," Sukuna threatened as he took a few steps forward.

"Well aware," you answered without hesitation, "but at least if you killed me now, I would reunite with my children and be rid of you," you grinned mockingly at your partner.

You watched as the menacing man raised a hand, keeping eye contact with you as he did so. Normally you would have feared that this was the end of the line, but that was before your worst nightmare had already came true. Some part of you wished that he would hit you, hoping that once he did, he would snap you out of what you hoped what was an illusion of some sort, a night terror, a cursed technique, possibly a hallucination— all three were very much possibilities, but deep down you knew you were in denial, however, you did not want to accept it.

The slap never came.

Instead, your companion reached his arm above you, removing the pins that held your twins hostage against the wall. Sukuna took his time, clearly in no rush, leaving you antsy as you began to wriggle in impatience. You just wanted to hold them and look upon their innocent face. Maybe they were not dead, maybe there was still a breath of life in them, and you could somehow convince your husband to use his curse reversal technique on them due to the terms of your contract.

Maybe, just maybe…

Once the last pins restraining your children were removed, you were quick to cradle your twins, holding them close to your chest as more sobs escaped from your quivering lips. Your fingers lightly touched their skin as you caressed their faces with motherly gentleness. After moments, your cries subsided into a quiet lament as you continued to hold your little boy and girl.

You would have done anything to prevent this fate.

"Mama..." a voice spoke, but excessively strained and quiet.

You jumped up to see your little boy's eyes open no more than a slit. Without hesitation, you rushed to grab his face, babbling words of encouragement for him to stay awake. You were eager as you prepared to attempt to perform reverse cursed technique, but before you could, another strained voice sounded.

"Ma-Mama."

You panicked once more, moving to face your daughter as her condition was nearly the same. You were torn on what to do and had almost turned to Sukuna for his assistance, but it was useless. As quickly as those words were spoken were as fast as they faded back into eternal sleep.

What was this? You had to ask again, but what had you done to deserve this? To be worthy of this torture? Was there not a more deserving candidate for this cruelty you were enduring? Had you just been born to be cursed like this?

Questions raveled your mind, and thoughts ate at you alive– you were beginning to spiral. Your voice, along with many of the other voices from your past, flooded your head, screaming at you all at once as the memories began to invade your consciousness. Your head was starting to hurt from lingering in your mind, far away from reality. If anyone were to look upon your form, you would seem like the hollow husk of a woman based on how you sat there unmoving and totally silent as you stared blankly at the bloody wall– it seemed like you were looking through it like a piece of glass, that is how lost you were, until...

Everything went silent.

The voices in your head had settled, and all you could hear was Sukuna's breathing and your own echoing throughout the room. It was eerily quiet as the two of you remained.

"Their first words were their last."

You spoke without thought; the words had just slipped as you turned back to the father of your children, being met with his expressionless stare. You did not expect a response, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was no happier about this situation than you were; however, Sukuna was not grieving like you were. Your reasons for your dour moods were different, but that did not matter– you both were upset about what occurred.

As you held your husband's stare, it was almost as if you had some sort of understanding with one another, communicating without speaking before turning your attention back to your twins. With caution, you gently lifted your children into your arms, slowly standing as you managed to balance their limp bodies in your hold as you walked toward the door.

Your feet moved without command as you walked through the corridor, Sukuna walking at your side as you ventured in silence. The experience was almost that of your arrival at the temple– all eyes were on you; however, there were no whispers of gossip or vial comments and disgusting displays of arousal as you departed. The tension radiating from your aura was too great for such ill manners to be publicly displayed.

You had no clue where you were going and were hardly thinking about it. Your mind was void of consciousness as you reached the grand doors of the temple, stepping out into the cool night air. A part of you wishes you could have enjoyed it, to relish your first time outside the temple walls since your marriage, but the feeling was bitter and dull, especially as you looked upon the lights illuminating from your village.

Trekking through the terrain, you watched the lights grow brighter and more prominent, similar to the unknown feeling festering in your chest. You could hear their voices, their chanting of uprising as you approached the crowd, stopping just at the border of your village. One of the village elders was the first to notice you and Sukuna's approaching figures before ceasing the noise, focusing on your arrival.

"Y/n L/n, you have finally come home. Your family will be happy to know that you have finally returned," pausing to look at Sukuna before bringing his attention back to you, "It was wise of this monster to return you as requested. Come now child, we shall reunite you with your family."

You could hear him speak and understand his meaning and indirect stab at Sukuna's pride, but the words flowed from one ear to the other as your body remained rooted at the barrier.

"Come now, child, you are free!" the elder insisted as he motioned to you, confused and seemingly irritated at your lack of response.

"No."

The word slipped out seamlessly as you blankly stared at the man, watching his expression turn into shock.

"What do you mean, 'No'?"

"It means what I said," you simply responded before continuing, "Why would I come back to a home that sent me away like a lamb to the slaughter. You presented me like a slab of meat to the man you call a monster as if he were some valued patron, but suddenly, I have become worthy of retrieval after how many years? Why is that?"

"You ungrateful woman! We have pursued you for some time due to your parents' request. They paid handsomely to bring you back home, paid enough to fund our cause."

"And what cause was that?!" you retaliated.

"To kill that vile creature who stole you from us, my dear daughter!"

"...Mother," you whispered to yourself as your mom came into view, your father following her as they made their presence known.

"But it seems his influence has already tainted your mind," your mother spoke with a solemn look in her eyes, "But we can fix that if you just come home." the woman persisted as she held her arms out for a welcoming embrace.

Her comfort was tempting, but there was a lingering feeling of hesitance the longer you looked at the picture. This was something you wished for a long time, to be welcomed home with open arms, but the dream seemed stale as you stood there unmoving.

"Then why were harmless children slaughtered in his place?" you questioned.

"Harmless?" your parents uttered, baffled by your statement, "Those children were born to become monsters along with their father! They were far from harmless! That is why we had to cut them out of the picture!" your father yelled.

"...You did it?" you softly asked.

You could see your father's mouth open before closing, moving his gaze from your eyes to the motionless bodies in your arms. The disgusted faces your parents held were replaced with one of bewilderment and fear. They could finally understand your reluctance.

"Y/n..."

"They were harmless..." you started in a mutter, "They were not monsters! They were innocent! And you accused them of crimes they have never committed!"

"With their upbringing, it would have been inevitable! They were their father's children, after all!" the village elder interrupted, disdain laced in his voice.

"They were not guilty of Sukuna's crimes! They were innocent children!" you voiced, outraged with the small-minded thinking.

You looked to your parents for support but were only met by them avoiding your stare. They believed their actions were reasonable and considered them valid. You were not the one who was influenced... they were.

"Damn you all," you muttered, turning your back to the villagers.

"We did this for you to survive, Y/n! And here you are, well and alive. You kept your promise, so please come home!"

"Survived...survived..." Your chest heaved as you began to laugh hysterically. You placed your children down before rising, "Is this what survival is, just staying alive? Well, if that is the case, then yes, I have survived just like I promised, but with the cost of my life! I may have survived, but I will never live...not without them."

"There will be other opportunities to have children, my dear, with a far better suitor," your mother attempted to persuade, her arms still held open.

"Excuse me?"

That had done it.

"The man you practically sold me to was far from my first choice of significant other, but at least he managed to give my life some meaning, something to live for...and you took it from me, the last crowd of people I thought would do such a thing...how naive of me."

"Y/n, if we-"

"If you what?! Tell me, if you had known those children were mine, would you have spared them, given them mercy?"

No response.

"That's what I thought. You know I had hoped to come home with open arms, and shown by tonight, my wish came true; however, that was before I had the twins– the dream expanded to have all three of us welcomed with warmth...how pitifully optimistic of me."

"Y/n, I cannot tell you those events you hoped for would have come to fruition, but I can tell you this: you can start over, have a family you have always dreamed of... pure children."

Silence.

"They. Were. PURE!"

And just like that, the extent of that unusual feeling lingering in your chest had unleashed. The full extent of your furry had combusted in the form of your cursed energy and technique. Within the blink of an eye, what was once a bustling village full of chatter and laughter was now a blazing inferno filled with screams and cries.

You could see the fire, smell the blood, and hear their screams as they begged for mercy. They cried out for their children and loved ones whose bodies were now burning in the roaring flames, reduced to cinders and ashes. Those who threatened to charge were killed before they could make contact, their bodies contorting in ways the human form was incapable of, causing cries of pure agony as they were left to bleed out in their mangled state– they were retired to suffer in their pain as the life slowly drained out of them. If a suffering soul was fortunate, the fire would catch them aflame and kill them faster, or debris would land in a fatal spot or crush them whole to end their misery.

Viewing the demolished structures and flaming bodies, both dead and alive, was a petrifying view– yet you felt nothing. Your breath was methodical, your expression blank, your body unmoving. Pity and remorse were thrown out the window– fear and anguish had long vanished; however, anger and resentment lingered like a tiny flickering flame that continued to grow with each crumble and cry that could be heard.

Although your exterior appearance seemed calm and collected, your heartbeat said otherwise as it accelerated, pounding against your chest so hard you could eventually drown out the hollers of distress with its rapid thumping.

They were now suffering the pain and torture you had suffered for years to its full extent...

Unlike you, it was the kind of punishment they deserved.

You allowed yourself to view the sight for a few seconds longer before picking up your son and daughter, balancing them in your embrace again, and turning your back towards the village. You began to walk toward the temple, knowing better than to run off, but it was not like you had a reason to go anywhere else. There was no life for you. You were to remain by Sukuna's side until you died, and you were content with that.

"Y/n."

With all the heightened emotions and events that occurred only moments ago, you had forgotten Sukuna was there. The curse user had not muttered a word nor made a movement. He idly watched your wrath unfold, watched as you burnt your home to the ground.

You paused for a minute, looking blankly ahead as you thought of the past and reflected on your choices. Out of every action you committed, there was one you regretted most.

"I should have killed myself that morning, the morning after the ceremony. It would have saved me a lot of trouble and heartache."

With that, you walked off into the night, letting that thought of regret linger in your mind.

Taglist:

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[raven-6-10]

The Dreamers in House Targaryen

So, I finally did the Thing I once promised to do.

Below the cut is the complete famiily tree of House Targaryen, based on all the information currently available in all the published books. I also included the Blackfyre branch for the sake of completness.

Included a reference for what means what on this absolute monster of family tree. Also, for the sake of clarity, I did not include spouses unless they were also Targaryens or a child of a Targaryen.

House Targaryen pre-Conquest surprisingly includes only two confirmed Dreamers and none who could be suspected of having the gift.

Or maybe it's just the lack of the data (*glares at Valaena's mother*)

Daenys the Dreamer: self-explanatory. The most famous of Targaryen Dreamers and the one everyone wants to be like.

Aegon the Dragon: honestly, no surprise there. GRRM confirmed that Aegon's Dream from the show is also canon to the books. But even if he didn't, I would have marked Aegon as a suspected Dreamer - it was long theoretised that Targs came to Westeros because of a prophecy about the Doom of Men, so I could see the Conquest being kicked off by a Dream.

Now this is were it gets Interesting!

Alysanne Targaryen: there is an excelent analysis of Fire & Blood chapters on why Alysanne could be a Dreamer. One that apparently was missed by her relatives.

Viserys I Targaryen: so the thing is. Book!Viserys is never hinted at to have Dragon Dreams. Even in the show, he only had the one dream (of dubious authenticity). Hence, marked as show!only Dreamer.

The Greens!

Helaena Targaryen: Honestly, same deal as Viserys. Book!Helaena is never even hinted at as somebody who might be a Dreamer. So she's in blue and not red.

Now, Aemond's potential line might have produced something. If Alys actually had a living child. And if that line survived more than a generation.

Unfortunately, Lack of Data.

Honestly, once again we are dealing with Lack of Data on the Blacks and their descendants. Fire & Blood only takes us to the end of Regency, which is when Aegon the Younger turns sixteen. We have almost nothing after that as WoIaF is much less detailed on the family doings.

So if there was somebody with the gift, the fact did not make it into history.

Aegon IV's many, many bastards!

(even if some only suspected)

(or you know, not actually his)

Brynden Rivers (The Bloodraven): the only one with magical shit going on, and his is explicitly of the First Men variety.

(If we ever get Fire & Blood 2, I have some hopes for Shiera.)

The Blackfyres!

Daemon II Blackfyre: very explicit confirmation in The Mystery Knight, as he speaks of several Dreams he had over his life that came true.

Also, it's a colossal mess of a family tree with multiple branches having an uncertain fate. *eyeroll* And fans wonder why nobody believes in Varys' story about Young Griff.

Moving back to the main family, we finally get some confirmations that yes, Targs still produce Dreamers. Granted that seems to be confined to Maekar's branch

Daeron the Drunken: confirmed in The Hedge Knight and about as explicit as it gets.

Aemon Targaryen: as confirmed as it can be when we don't have his pov. But he says several things during aFfC that in hindsight are rather prophetic.

And here are our heroes!

Daenerys Stormborn: very explicitly has Dragon Dreams and waking visions at various points in the books.

Jon Snow: technically, we still don't have the confirmation that he's actually a Targaryen. But Jon does have a dream about figting Others at the Wall with a sword of fire, that is very similar to the Dream Dany has about fighting warriors of ice at the Trident.

Rhaegar Targaryen: marked him as a suspected Dreamer for the simple fact that it is hinted that he could see Dany when she was having her visions in House of the Undying.

[saphirafoxgirlspost1]

(Open Rp) "The Mystery girl of Beverly hill High"

It All started a Long time ago in a small Town Called "Swinford", The engagement of The Lovely Couple name "Saphira Lorraina Fox" From the Most Wealthiest Family and Daughter Of the Most Powerful CEOs of Powerful Company Named "Fox co" and Her Fiance named "Daniel Jamerson Rooster" Who is Also From the wealthy family Of the Rooster Company as well… Everything Went beautifully..Until one day, Saphira Founded it out that She is Pregnant and she is Thrilled to have a beautiful baby into this lovely family..She told Daniel about this..and he was Over the moon for it..But..He said that He wanted a son so much..and then saphira said that it depends and asked what if its a girl or so..but Daniel Ignored That question which made saphira abit concern about it ..Then 4 Months later At the gender Reveal Party, Everyone was excited about the gender reveal..Daniel was hoping to have a son Because He always talks about it so much until ..It reveals that She's having a baby Girl, His Smile began to faded..His parents and relatives was so happy about it.. along with saphira's parents But Daniel ..Did not. Then he began to throw a nasty Fit and Destroying the cake and all.. and Storms into the kitchen..as Saphira was so embarrassed that he acts So Childish Over this..and She comes to the Kitchen.. and Tore his ass up ..and She said to him,

Saph: "How Could you Embarrassed me Infront of our families with Your Childish Behavior!? Your Having a Fit over Not having a Son!?"

Daniel: "Yes! and I think your Cheating on me! Who was it!?"

Then Saphira Smacked Him So hard and She said,

Saph: "How Dare you!? You think if I'm Having a baby girl means That I'm cheating on you!? That Doesn't Make any Sense!"

Daniel: "Look i-"

Saph: "ENOUGH!! You're The Father of this Child and I suggest you to ACT LIKE IT!! Now you march your Sorry ass To the Living Room and apologize To everyone For your Childish behavior..and For that..your going to Sleep in the basement..and I don't want to hear it from your Childish mouth again and THATS FINAL!!"

After the gender reveal party Fiasco, Daniel was Force to sleep in the basement as punishment for His childish Behavior and His parents Apoligize Saphira for his Reckless behavior. During 3 months of pregnancy Daniel had been Disappearing That morning and came home very late at night, Saphira got Suspicious about it..Until one day, When the Doctor Discovered and told Saphira that she's Not only having a baby girl..but a baby boy, Saphira was thrilled and happy..but It never last long until She got out from the Hospital..She saw a black car that Daniel was Driving as it speed right at her… Daniel just Run her over..but the last thing she saw is him..with another woman inside of that black car..the Big Wheel run her belly over which cause saphira to scream..luckily..the witness caught the tag of the black car by taking a picture of it..as alot of doctors and Nurses came and brought her Inside to the ER…They got the babies out..but sadly..The babies is Flatten and bloodied..saphira saw that..as she is screaming in pain in tears…Daniels parents and Saphira's parents heard about it..They run into a hospital..while the Police caught Daniel and arrested him..along with This Mystery woman…Then the Doctors Told Saphira about something..They told saphira that Daniel is having an affair with another woman Name "Barbra Minx" who is also From the Wealthy family as well…Saphira's Blood began to boil into rage..and She was Absolutely Livid about it..All this..For His Obsession of Having a Son..and Now he Betray her and Killed her 2 Little angels that She already named them "Serena and Marmoru". And Now the twins is dead, Killed by Their own Father For His Stupid and Selfish Desires..She Knew what she will do when she gets Discharged..After being Discharged from the Hospital, Saphira Visit Daniel in prison…When she Arrives the room temperature Dropped..when Daniel sees The wrathful look of His Worst nightmare..She Picked up the Phone..and She slammed the Sonogram picture of Her Unborn twins..as Daniel was shocked about..before he speaks..she said,

Saph: " Daniel..I'm having twins… You are about to have a son.. But Not anymore.. YOU! Killed them! And FOR WHAT?! For Your Selfish Desires, Wanted an HEIR Of the Family! I don't know what is Your deal about Having Daughters and Not having a son, Who the hell Do you think you are!? Henry the 8th!? This Era is Long gone.. I was going to tell you that i'm having twins..but NO!! You decided to kill them..in cold blood! What do you have to Say For yourself?.. Better yet..What do you have to Yours and this Ms. Minx Bitch Self?"

Daniel: "Saph! I can explain-"

Saph:"Explain what!? Not only you killed my babies but Cheated On me with that Minx Whore who is also engaged to someone else!? Your Unbelievable You know that!? Sighs angerly You know what..Thats it.. I'm Done, I'm Calling off the engagement.."

Daniel: gasp "PLEASE PLEASE I BEG YOU! I'M SORRY, I should've been a good Fiance to you..and a good father to them I-"

Saphira: " WOULD YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU ENTILTED, MYSOGONYSTIC,SELFISH, CRUEL, WICKED, BABY KILLING BASTARD!!?? We are over ya hear me!? And your parents ..They knew what you did, and they supported of this Calling of the engagement..because I am not going to marry some baby killer For His selfish desires! we're over!! and I hope..you and that minx bitch have a happy life! GOOD BYE!"

Saphira threw a ring at him..and storms off as Daniels parents Tearing his ass up for hours..along with Barbra Minx parents who is also Inflames of rage and tearing her up as well..As Months passed..Saphira's Father has a Secret club called "The Kings" Where all the fathers are Gathered in a Nice sacred place..the members of the Kings was furious about Daniels Scandels and crimes He committed..Mr. Rooster who is also the member Apoligize For his Idiots sons crimes he did against saphira..Then they try to figure it out what to do..until Her father Decided to make an "Operation: Do over"..So Her father explains that he can use The Memory erasing spell For The whole world except the members of "The Kings"…Then They accepted..Jerry Who is the leader of the WHOOP offer Her father to Move Saphira and her Sibling to Beverly Hill..and start over by Going to Beverly Hill high as a Lovely High school gal. With that..her father Agrees and use the spell on the whole world except the members and 3 of the familes Such as: The Rooster family, Fox family and the Minx family..After the Serious meeting and removing memories from The world..Saphira and her Siblings..began to move to Beverly hills..where they see a beautiful manor on top of the beautiful Hill..When they settled there.. Her father told her and her sibling..that they'll come to school by next Monday..and need to be on their best behavior..Saphira nodded..and then That night on the first day after settled in..She was at the balcony..smoking cigarettes..her sibling came in..and She said,

Saphira:" You know.. This is a good thing that We can start all over again..not Just for us..but.. For my little ones.."

She sighs and Looked at the Picture of her twins in the womb..tears streaming..and then her sibling said..

[teshadraws]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 60]

<< First | < Previous | Next >

-

Tobias speaks with Dismas.

CW: Blood, violence, child death.

-

In the silence, Dismas gives them an uninterested onceover, starting at Nia and ending with Tobias. When the pangoro reaches Tobias’ face, his brow furrows, his chin lifting with a spark of interest.

Tobias can’t decide if he wants to glare back or look away. His throat is tight. He balls the hand not holding Nia’s into a fist, trying to keep himself from shaking like a newborn.

Suddenly, the pangoro’s brows rise, and a toothy grin lights up his face. He rears back as much as he can in his chains, roaring with laughter. He’d probably be slapping his knee if he could.

Tobias stares, stunned. When he’d imagined this in the past, thought about coming face-to-face with one of the outlaws, he’d never pictured laughter. He kind of feels like puking.

Dismas’ laughter dies down, but the jovial expression remains. “You’re the little brat from the mountains! How long’s it been? Five years? Six?”

He says it like a distant relative catching up. Like he’s asking how Tobias’ training has been going, instead of reuniting with the child he made an orphan.

“It’s been eight years,” Tobias hisses. He can’t decide if he wants to attack the pangoro or run away. Nia’s grip anchors him in place.

“Huh. Time flies. You’re still a squirt, but you were a tiny little thing then. No bigger than my paw.”

Dismas lifts a paw as far as he can with the chains restricting him, and wiggles his fingers. His claws flash in the low light. He could probably still crush Tobias without a second thought, but when Tobias was younger, when he was half his current size, it would’ve been effortless. Vivi was even tinier.

Tobias grits his teeth, anger slowly overpowering the terror. He can feel his control slipping, embers climbing into his throat.

“You a big-shot Seeker now?” Dismas asks, still so casual. He gestures to the scarf around Tobias’ throat.

Tobias’ free hand lifts, grabbing the worn material as if to keep it from him. This scarf was Vivi’s, and Tobias will die before he lets this monster touch it.

Dismas’ gaze moves to Nia. “This your little partner?”

Nia doesn’t answer, but Tobias can feel her squeeze his hand just a bit tighter. She’s standing tall out of the corner of his eye.

Dismas huffs. “You gonna say anything or are you two just here to waste my time?”

Tobias takes a step forward, fire boiling over. “Shut up! You aren’t the one asking questions here!”

Dismas’ brow rises. “Well, go on then. I don’t have all day.”

Tobias wants to lunge for the pangoro’s throat. Nia tugs him back a step, away from Dismas and back to her side. Tobias can’t tell if she’s shaking too, or if that’s just him.

Tobias swallows, gut churning.

“Why?” He rasps. “Why did you kill them?”

Dismas looks unimpressed by the question. “You were there, brat. Surely you remember.”

Tobias was there, but he doesn’t remember. He can’t. Every time he’s ever tried to remember the details, panic has risen like a tide, swamping his thoughts and choking him for air, sending him flailing until he stops.

Dismas, in response to Tobias’ silence, shrugs a shoulder. “Sulien ordered it.”

Tobias takes a breath, tears brimming in his eyes. He blinks them back. “Why did Sulien want to kill them? My dad was an instrument-maker. My mom was a mail-mon. My sister was six. They…there’s no way they were involved in something shady, and we…it’s not like we had a lot of money. So why?”

Tobias hates the way his voice breaks. He hates that this is how he has to get his answers. He hates being at the mercy of Dismas yet again.

The pangoro snorts. “It’s not like we went there planning it. There was a storm.”

Tobias knows there was a storm, but that doesn’t explain anything. Why would the storm be important? Tobias doesn’t know, he doesn’t remember, he—

…He does. He does remember.

———————————————————

It’s raining. Hard. Has been all day, and although storms usually pass quickly in the mountains, this one doesn’t look like it’s gonna let up anytime soon.

Since she can’t fly safely in this kind of weather, Mama’s home today—a rarity in the middle of the afternoon. She takes over for Papa’s lessons to let him work in peace, playing little games with Toby and Vivi to help them learn their letters and math.

Each time they finish a lesson, Mama lets them each hold onto one of her giant wings. She flaps them open to fling her children up with shrieks of laughter before gently catching them and lowering them back to the ground. Usually they can get three rounds out of her with cries of “Again! Again!” before she puts her foot down and they have to start the next lesson.

It’s a peaceful day. A bit boring, even, until late afternoon when a shadow—three shadows—block out the gray light from the mouth of the cave.

Toby recognizes the biggest Pokemon from one of his books. He remembers, ‘cause he’s a fire type like them. A growlithe, maybe? Wait, no, an arcanine.

His ear is shredded like an old piece of fabric, scars cutting through his fur and across one of his eyes. His fur is limp with rain, though, and he has a sheepish smile on his face, so he doesn’t seem scary.

There’s another Pokemon standing behind him with his arms folded and an unhappy scowl on his face. He’s tall, with black and white fur.

The third Pokemon, a crobat, came in dangling from the tall Pokemon’s arm, but quickly hopped off to huddle in the dirt instead. His wings are crossed over his body, looking too drenched to fly.

“Sorry for intruding,” the arcanine says, friendly and warm. “We were hoping we could get out of the rain for a while?”

———————————————————

Tobias blinks. He stares at Dismas. “You…you said you wanted to get out of the rain.”

“Yup.”

“But that…” Tobias’ heart is pounding faster. Why does he feel like he’s the one being interrogated here?

Tobias glances at the quagsire standing guard off to the side, as if she’ll somehow have the answers. The quagsire looks back at him, sharp gaze softened by something sad and sympathetic.

Tobias doesn’t have time for her pity. He avoids Nia’s gaze entirely, looking back at Dismas. “B-But that wasn’t true, right? You were just…lying. To get to us.”

Dismas snorts. “Why would we lie? The idiots wanted out of the rain.”

“But why our cave?!”

“We ran across your cave by chance, brat. Your family just had the bad luck of living in the first decent shelter we found going over the mountain range.”

Tobias stares at Dismas, disbelief making him feel numb.

By chance? Bad luck?

Tobias’ family was killed because of bad luck?

That—that can’t be right. Tobias lost his whole world that night. There has to be a better reason. There has to be some reason why his family had to go through that. Why he had to go through that.

“What do you mean?” Tobias asks, trying make the words a demand. They come out weak and lost. “If it was just by chance that you met us, then why did you attack us?!”

“You don’t remember.”

No, Tobias doesn’t remember, because he can’t ever let himself remember that night in full. Because when he tries, the panic comes back in full force and shuts him down before he even gets a chance.

Tobias snarls, a wordless and feral sound. A threat.

Dismas rolls his eyes. “Your mom figured us out.”

Tobias stops, breathing hard. Embers flutter in the edges of his vision.

Just like that, just like a twig holding together a dam, everything falls loose.

He remembers.

———————————————————

His parents are welcoming, at first. His mama jokes with the arcanine and crobat, Sulien and Asra, about the rain while his father adds kindling to the fire to give it extra warm.

Toby is a little shy, as he always is around strangers. Even more with big, strong strangers like these ones.

Vivi echoes all of his awe without the shyness, immediately bouncing around the strangers’ paws with question after question about their names and species and types and where they’re from. The tall one, a pangoro named Dismas, is clearly annoyed by her curiosity, but Asra and Sulien smile and answer patiently.

The storm rages on far longer than anyone expects, into the evening. Vivi has graduated from crawling around Sulien’s giant paws to to climbing over the arcanine’s fluffy back and mane. She’d scrambled her way up the fire type’s shoulders before their parents could stop her, and once there the arcanine had assured them she was fine. Toby had settled in at Sulien’s paws, listening to the adults talk.

The strangers tell them that they’re called Team Zenith, and they focus on rescue work.

“Is that how you got that scar on your face?” Vivi asks, sprawled stop Sulien’s fluffy head and peering down at him.

“Vivian!”  Mama scolds.

Sulien laughs. “It’s fine. No, this one was from a nasty fight.”

Vivi gasps. “A bad guy?!”

Sulien nods, solemn. “The worst.”

“Whoa.”

Toby echoes his sister, leaning back against the arcanine’s warm, fluffy chest. He loves his Mama and Papa, but there’s something really nice about a pelt so soft.

“Maybe I wanna be a Seeker when I grow up,” Toby muses.

“Oh! Me too! Me too!”

“You’ll both have to get a bit bigger first,” Mama teases, flicking her tail over to tickle Tobias’ side. He giggles and kicks her away.

Eventually, Mama excuses herself from the warmth of the fire to grab her mail for the following day. When the storm clears up, she’ll have a lot of deliveries to make. She brings them to the fire to organize by neighborhood, sorting them into piles.

Toby crawls into her lap, watching as she reads the name and location on each one before deciding which pile it belongs to. He tries to read them too and make it a race, but he’s a lot slower than her.

Conversation continues between the adults, interrupted only by Vivi’s occasional question or exclamation. Toby mostly listens, and reads, and sometimes puts a letter on the right pile when Mama points it out to him.

He perks up when they’re done with the regular mail and get to the guild notices. A lot of the papers are boring stuff that just go to the local guild outpost, but sometimes they have wanted posters that Mama has to pin up in town. Those are a little scary, but they’re kind of exciting, too.

Tobias skims the words he can see on the current paper, the sheet held a little too high over his head as Mama reads. Finally, she hands it over to him, pointing out where it needs to go. He lays it gently in place.

Mama picks up the next letter, and Toby feels it when she suddenly goes tense underneath him. Confused, he looks up at the paper she’s holding, seeing that it’s a wanted poster with pictures of outlaws on it.

Huh. Mama doesn’t usually get scared by wanted posters like Toby and Vivi sometimes do.

It’s taking way too long for her to hand it to him, so Toby tugs impatiently on his mom’s wrist. The paper is yanked down just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the pictures.

An arcanine with a scar. A crobat. A pangoro.

Mom yanks the letter away from him. He lets her, frowning up at her face in confusion.

“Mama, what—"

“Toby, go over to Papa.”

Toby hesitates, feeling like something is…wrong. Why was Team Zenith on the wanted poster? Toby thought those were only for bad Pokemon.

Mama doesn’t wait for him, sliding him off her lap and standing. She gathers the piles of letters with unusually sharp movements.

“Mama?”

“You’re fine, sweetie,” Mama says, neck dipping to brush her muzzle over his head. “I just don’t feel like working on those anymore tonight. I’ll get your help with them again later. Go over to your dad, okay?”

Her voice shakes.

Toby glances at Papa. He’s watching Mama now, smile gone.

Toby looks back at Mama. She’s watching Vivi, who is crawling all over Sulien and still chattering on about something.

Mama’s quiet. Like something’s wrong but she doesn’t want Toby and Vivi to know about it.

The arcanine smiles at Mama, apparently picking up on it, too. “Something wrong, ma’am?”

“No no. Just—Vivi, get off Mr. Sulien, all right?”

“Aww, why?” Vivi whines, little fingers tightening in his fur.

“Vivian!” Mama snaps.

Toby and Vivi both wince. Slowly, with a pout, Vivi slides down Sulien’s back and trudges over to Papa, leaning into his side. He wraps his tail around her.

“Toby, why don’t you come over here too?” Papa says, voice light. “It’s about time for bed.”

There’s something about his tone, though, that makes Tobias tense.

Toby doesn’t move. He doesn’t understand why that outlaw paper had Team Zenith on it, or why everyone suddenly got so quiet.

Mama is standing, not putting her papers away like she said she would. Like it’s important that Toby goes over to Papa before she does.

Papa is sitting up straighter than before, not letting Vivi move. He motions Toby closer.

It’s Asra who really makes Toby upset, though. The crobat suddenly looks sick to his stomach, gaze flicking between Sulien and Mama.

Sulien smiles. “You’re sure nothing is wrong?”

Thunder rumbles outside, long and low. Like the sky is growling.

Toby finally darts to his sister’s side, ducking under his papa’s tail and pressing close to his belly where it’s safe. He’s scared. He doesn’t know why he’s scared.

“You said you’re a mail mon, right?” Sulien asks politely.

His mama doesn’t answer.

“That includes notices to the guild, doesn’t it?”

Sulien stands up. He stretches, muscles rippling under striped fur.

“Show me that last notice you were sorting.”

Mama shakes her head. Toby doesn’t think he’s ever seen that look on her face. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Shame,” Sulien says, casual. “Neither did I. But it seems trouble has found us regardless.”

Papa’s tail curls tighter around them, pressing them close.

“We don’t have much,” Mama says, low. Fervent. “But you can have it. Just go. Or let us go. We’ll go.”

“I’m afraid that’s really not the problem here,” Sulien says. “The problem is that we need to get out of this mountain range without anyone knowing where we’re heading next.”

“We won’t say anything,” Mama says, quick. Desperate. She’s usually the one picking fights, not trying to compromise.

Toby’s stomach feels cold.

“S-Sulien,” Asra says, hushed. “Come on, they said they won’t say anything. We can make them leave and—"

Sulien sighs, cutting the crobat off. “I’d really like to believe that. Unfortunately, you know I’d rather not take any chances.”

He flexes his paw, claws extending in the firelight.

Tobias flinches.

Vivi whimpers.

A growl pours from Papa’s throat.

His mama’s wings spread, making her bigger. She looks angry. She looks terrified.

———————————————————

“You really didn’t come there looking for us,” Tobias whispers, staring at Dismas. The pangoro stares back, expressionless.

It wasn’t some kind of shady business. Or even a robbery. It wasn’t anything against his parents at all.

They were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. They extended their kindness to the wrong Pokemon.

———————————————————

“I’m afraid I’d rather play it safe,” Sulien says. He flicks his shredded ear.

Dismas launches himself forward. Toby doesn’t even see the move that sends Mama flying back into the cave wall with a crack.

“Mama!” Toby shrieks.

He and Vivi try to push past Papa’s tail, but he drags them back.

“Aria!” His papa yells.

Mama pushes herself up, blowing a wave of fire out in front of her to ward the pangoro off. She glances at them, eyes wild. “Run, Silas!”

Papa hesitates for only a second. Then he scoops Tobias and Vivi up in his arms and bolts towards the mouth of the cave.

But it’s storming! Mama said they can never fly when it’s storming! It’s too dangerous. There’s rain and lightning and wind and—

And Sulien is there, standing large and proud against the darkness.

Papa stops. Toby can hear Mama fighting with the pangoro behind them.

“They’re just kids,” his papa says, voice tight. “Let them go.”

Sulien’s eyes move down to Toby and Vivi. “They are. But eventually they’ll be adults. And that one—” he nods at Vivi, who bares her teeth and growls, even with tears in her eyes. “Has the look of a hero. No, they’re old enough to realize what happened here.”

Toby feels his papa’s heart racing against his back, skin hot and clammy all at once. Slowly, he’s put down beside Vivi.

“Papa?” Toby asks, shaky. He’s trying to sniff back tears, but he can hear his mama snarling and the FWOOSH and heat of fire and Sulien is looking at them like a stranger, like a villain in a story and—

“Toby. Take your sister and run.”

Papa’s voice is low. Almost too low to hear.

Toby blinks. “W-What?”

They aren’t allowed out in storms, and definitely not on their own.

Papa spares him a glance. He swallows. “Run. Don’t stop running until you’re safe. And take care of your sister.”

“Papa?” Vivi says.

“We love you both,” Papa whispers. His voice is higher than usual. Rough. “So much.”

Before Tobias can answer, Papa is using his tail to sweep the two of them towards the mouth of the cave. Toby stumbles, Vivi crying out at his side.

Then Papa is arcing over them with a roar that shakes Toby to his bones. He watches with wide eyes as Papa and Sulien tumble together in a snarling blur of orange.

Everything is chaos. Growling and crashing and fire and—

Vivi slams into him, hugging him desperately. He wraps his arms around her on instinct, claws bunching into the oversized red scarf she always wears like a little cape.

“Tobias!” His mother roars. He looks over at her, panicked. She’s panting, one of her wings hanging in a sickening way at her side as the pangoro recovers from a heavy hit. “Run!”

“Asra!” Sulien barks. “Grab them!”

Tobias spins, locking eyes with the crobat. He’s flapping in midair, looking just as scared as Tobias feels.

“Sulien, they’re—they’re just kids. Surely we don’t need to hurt them, right?”

The word ‘hurt’ jolts Toby into movement. He grabs his sister by the hand and yanks her towards the entrance, tears blurring his vision.

A flash of purple flies by and blocks the entrance, making them stumble back. The crobat flaps in place, brow furrowed as he glances between them and Sulien.

Toby grabs Vivi tighter and darts to the side, hoping to skirt around the crobat. The crobat swoops at them, barely missing them. It feels threatening, like he’s going to pick them up and carry them away, but—

——————————————————

“He wasn’t really trying, was he?” Tobias rasps. “He…he was so much faster than that. He wanted us to escape. But…”

——————————————————

For an instant, Toby thinks they’re going to make it. They duck under the crobat’s wings and—

A heavy weight—a thousand times heavier than Mama and Papa when they play fight with them—slams into Toby, pinning him on his back. It knocks the air out of him. He tries to gasp for air as he looks up at his attacker.

Sulien doesn’t look scared like Asra. He doesn’t look like he’s feeling anything, except mild irritation. Toby feels the arcanine’s claws dig into his throat, bruising in their force and cutting off his air as something wet leaks down his skin.

Toby tries to kick, but he can’t reach the arcanine’s chest. Vivi screams and grabs the arcanine’s paw, trying to pull it off of him.

Sulien grabs her in his mouth like she’s nothing more than a toy, throwing her aside. She slams into the cave wall with a cracking sound and lands hard on her stomach.

Tobias tries to turn his head, his sister’s name on his tongue, but pain sears through his neck as claws tear at his soft throat.

Sulien’s mouth opens, and Toby sees nothing but fangs and fire lunging at him as he squeezes his eyes shut.

There’s a roar and a gust of hot air, and then the weight is gone from him entirely. Mama slams the arcanine into the wall with a sound that echoes and sends stone raining down from the ceiling.

Toby gasps and coughs as he scrambles up, reaching for his neck. His palm comes away red and slick with blood. It tickles as it streaks down his chest.

Toby ignores it, still coughing as he stumbles to Vivi’s side. She’s trying to push herself up, but one of her hands is pressed to the back of her head and the other shakes and trembles.

“Lemme see,” Toby rasps, kneeling at her side. He helps her sit up, then peels away the hand on her head. His heart stops when he sees slick red on her palm.

Vivi whines, slumping into Toby’s shoulder. He pulls her close, looking around frantically.

Mama is wrestling with Sulien now. Papa has turned on the pangoro, cornering him in the back of the cave. Asra is still stalled in place, staring at them with wide yellow eyes.

“Tobias! Run!” Mama yells again.

Toby jolts, then staggers to his feet. He feels lightheaded, spots in his vision, but he knows he needs to move. Vivi is clinging to him weakly, but she can’t seem to get her feet under her even when he tries to pull her up.

Toby feels renewed panic lap at him. Usually when they get hurt, when they scrape a knee or pull a claw, they go to their parents. And Vivi is clearly hurt, stumbling and tilting as if she’s dizzy.

He doesn’t know how to fix this.

Tobias decides on a different course of action. He swings Vivi around and pulls her onto his back, hopping to secure her higher. He nearly falls from the weight throwing him off balance, but staggers towards the mouth of the cave all the same.

“Asra, get those kids or you’re next!” Sulien snarls.

There’s no protest this time. A blur of purple flashes out of the corner of Toby’s eye, swooping for him again. He ducks and runs faster, out of the cave.

The storm slams into him like a wall. The cold rain stings against his skin, whipping into his face like needles. He squints against it. Between the rain and wind and darkness, he can hardly see two feet in front of him.

Another snarl comes from the cave. Toby startles and takes off, stumbling over rocks and slipping in mud. Each time he does, Vivi whimpers, her face tucked away in the crook of his bloodied neck.

Tobias runs and runs through the darkness, sliding down steep inclines and through scraggly groups of trees. It’s a miracle he doesn’t run himself right off the cliffside, guided only by hazy memory and luck.

He feels like he runs forever.

His lungs burn. He can’t feel his legs. Vivi sits like a boulder tied to his back, deadweight, but he doesn’t dare slow down. His fingers feel locked into place by the cold.

He doesn’t stop until a deep mud puddle sucks his foot down. He falls hard onto his front, then lays gasping in the mud. Its icy cold burns, and eventually he summons the strength to push himself up and crawl out of the puddle he’d landed in.

He gently deposits Vivi onto the ground behind him.

She slumps over.

“Vivi?” Toby asks, panting.

Vivi lies motionless on the grass. Too quiet. Too still. She’s never that quiet and still, even when she’s asleep.

“Vivi?” Toby asks again, shaking her gently. She feels cold, but everything feels cold right now.

He turns her over, to find her eyes closed and her little brow furrowed. He pats her cheek. “Vivi? Vivi, c’mon. W-Wake up! We…we gotta go. We gotta hide. O-Or get help, or…”

Vivi doesn’t answer. Fresh panic blooms in Tobias’ chest, and hot tears flood his eyes. He can’t tell what’s rain and what’s tears.

He shakes her a little harder. Her head lolls.

“Vivi!” He shouts.

She doesn’t wake up. Is it—is it because she hit her head?

He turns her over in his lap, breath hitching when he sees the place she smacked the back of her head against the cave wall when Sulien threw her. The rain has been washing out the wound, but it still glistens with fresh blood. Tobias knows head wounds bleed a lot, especially in the mountains, but the scariest part is how the spot looks almost…dented. Just a bit.

Toby looks around desperately. He can’t see anyone in the darkness and rain, and he knows there aren’t many other Pokemon who live near their home, but—

But he’s so scared. He’s never been so scared in his entire life.

“Help!” Toby yells, voice hoarse. Sulien and Asra and Dismas might hear him, but…but his sister is hurt.

“Help!” He yells again, a hot wave of tears filling his eyes to streak down chilled cheeks. “Please!”

He yells and yells, but nobody answers.

Tobias suddenly remembers what Papa told them, a long time ago. That they should pray to Entei if they ever feel scared or unsafe. He protects kids like them! He’ll help. He has to.

“E-Entei, please help us. Please, I’m really scared and Vivi needs help a-and I don’t know what else to do.”

Toby waits again. The storm continues overhead, loud and cold and endless. Entei doesn’t appear on fiery paws to whisk them away. There’s no big, strong presence to shield them from the rain.

They’re on their own.

Toby sniffs hard, looking down at Vivi. He doesn’t know what to do. Did she lose too much blood? Or is something inside her hurt? What did Mama say that one time about bad injuries?

You…you need to stop the bleeding if you get hurt real bad. You need to put something on the injury.

Tobias doesn’t have supplies, but his eyes land on Vivi’s scarf, its red hue looking dull and drab in the darkness and rain. Vivi’s going to be so mad at him for getting blood on her favorite scarf, but—but this is more important.

Toby unknots the scarf with shaking hands, then presses the soaking wet fabric against the wound. He expects Vivi to whine or cry out, since it has to hurt.

She doesn’t move. She still hasn’t moved.

Thunder rumbles again. The rain comes down in sheets, painful and freezing against his nearly-numb skin. Toby needs to find shelter soon. Sitting out in the rain for too long is dangerous for any fire type, but especially kids. Especially in the mountains.

Toby starts to drag Vivi onto his back again, when something catches his eye.

The tip of her short tail.

Dark.

Tobias drops her. He hates himself for it immediately, but he does. He hovers over her—her body—her, and shivers, and stares.

No. No no no.

B-But—but maybe she’s still okay? Maybe she’s just hurt, really bad, but if he gets her help, then…

Tobias presses the side of his head to Vivi’s chest.

He waits. And waits. Two rolls of thunder. Three. The rain doesn’t let up.

No breath. No heartbeat.

Toby whimpers. Then he gathers air into his lungs and wails. He thought that he knew what it was like, to be upset. To be scared. To be in pain. He remembers crying to Mama and Papa really hard that one time he pulled a claw.

This is something else. His voice rips out of him like it’s alive, like he has no control over it. He drapes himself over Vivi, crying, pleading for her to come back. He doesn’t know how long.

She doesn’t answer.

Tobias doesn’t remember getting up. He doesn’t remember leaving Vivi. He doesn’t remember wandering off with his sister’s scarf clenched tight in his fingers.

He does remember stepping just a bit too close to a cliffside that was loosened by the rain. Remembers how it gave out from underneath him. Remembers how he didn’t even yell, falling and falling and then—

Darkness.

Next time he woke up, he was bandaged and warm, tucked into a soft bed. The nice Pokemon who found him half-buried under rubble had taken him to the village doctor. Tobias had asked the doctor where his sister was, or his parents, and he knew right away what the old ‘mon’s tight smile and evasive answers meant.

His family was gone.

——————————————————

A painful squeeze of Tobias’ hand catches his attention. What is that? Did Sulien come back for him? No, he’s safe at the doctor’s house, he—

He stares at the riolu in front of him, uncomprehending. There’s not a riolu at the doctor’s, and certainly not in his cave.

Her ruby eyes are glassy with tears, and she’s holding his hand. Something about her makes him feel safe.

She’s saying something, but Tobias can’t hear her, his heartbeat loud in his ears. He can read her lips, though, as she repeats one word to him, over and over.

Breathe.

Tobias tries to listen, taking a shaky breath of air. Then another, and another. The riolu doesn’t look away, smiling encouragingly and breathing with him.

Slowly, Tobias feels his body settle into the room around him. It’s warmer here than in the rain, but colder than the doctor’s house. Darker, lit a muted green. His ears feel funny. His free hand is pulling at his—at Vivi’s scarf, and his neck burns as if the marks left there haven’t long since scarred over. There’s a quagsire and malamar watching him with sympathetic expressions, and—

Tobias freezes when he sees the pangoro. Dismas. Dismas is here, he’s going to hurt Mama and Papa and Vivi and the riolu and—

“Tobias!” The riolu places both paws on either side of his face, turning him away from the pangoro until all he can see is her. “Ignore him. Keep breathing with me, okay?”

Tobias doesn’t think he can, but he nods anyways and tries to follow the riolu’s exaggerated breaths. In. Out. Again.

Tobias doesn’t know when the riolu in front of him turns into someone he knows, but suddenly his brain remembers that she has a name.

Nia.

He latches onto her paws, taking stock of himself.

His eyes sting, as if he was crying. He’s still shaking, but his breathing is steadier. The grief and terror in his chest feels fresh, painful as the day he lost his family.

Tobias must make a pitiful sound, because Nia shushes him gently, murmuring, “Hey, stay here with me, okay? You back?”

Tobias nods, trying to stay in the present. He focuses on the cool metal underfoot. Nia’s soft paws on his cheeks. The sight of her eyes, red cooled to a deep brown in the green light. The quiet creak of the metal room around them.

He’s here. He’s in Kaleido Bay, with Nia. And he finally has the answer he has wanted all these years. He finally knows why his family was ripped away from him.

Chance.

Has Tobias wasted the last eight years of his life, looking for this? For a simple, nonsensical answer that changes nothing? An answer that was hidden away inside his own head?

If Sulien gets captured by other Seekers like Dismas had, then…what is Tobias’ goal? Without answers to find and the outlaws to track down, what does he have to strive towards?

What does he even have to live for?

“We really messed you up, huh?” Dismas says. The pangoro doesn’t sound remorseful. If anything, he says it like a joke, lighthearted and casual.

Nia snaps her teeth at him. “Shut up!”

Tobias looks at Dismas again. He tries to speak, then has to clear his throat to get the words to come. “You…don’t even care, do you? About what you did?”

Dismas snorts. “Your family wasn’t the first ‘mon we had to take out, kid. I can’t afford to get all weepy about it. I’m not Asra.”

“The crobat?” Nia murmurs. “Wasn’t he your partner?”

“A coward is what he was. Always trying to avoid getting his claws dirty. I bet that softhearted idiot didn’t even look for you brats after Sulien told him to. I was surprised Sulien let him run off at all, at least with his skull intact.”

Nia glances at Tobias before saying, “Asra’s, um…dead. He died in a rockslide.”

Dismas barks a laugh. “Ah, there it is! Looks like Sulien found him after all.”

Their faces must ask the question for them.

“Asra was spineless, but he was fast. He wouldn’t have gotten taken out by a rock slide. Not a natural one, at least.”

Nia looks vaguely sick. “You mean..?”

“Sulien always hated how much of a softie Asra was. Trying to run and start a new life with so much blood on his fangs? When he knew all of our history? Nah. He was a danger Sulien couldn’t risk keeping alive. It was only a matter of time for him.”

“And you?” Nia challenges. “Is Sulien the reason you got caught?”

Dismas laughs again. “No, we parted ways a while ago. I had enough of his brilliant ideas and decided to strike out on my own.”

“Lot of good that did you,” Nia mutters.

“You mean this place?” Dismas asks, making a vague gesture around the room with one restrained paw. “I needed somewhere to crash for a while. Time to figure out where I’m going next and all that. But now that you mention it, I am getting sick of the slop they serve here as food.”

Dismas looks past them, towards the malamar standing guard at the door. “Hey, beak face!”

The malamar straightens up, tentacles flaring. “Quiet down, D22.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be quick.” Dismas grins, toothy and goading. “Just thought you’d want to know that your little disable treatments haven’t been lasting as long as you wanted ‘em to.”

He lifts both paws as high as he can, curling them into fists. One paw bursts into flames, bright enough to be painful to Tobias’ eyes in the dim light. The other fist glints in the fire’s light, coated in ice.

Tobias feels a familiar sense of dread pool in his gut.

“Put your attacks away!” the malamar shouts, marching closer. The quagsire backs up a step, falling into a defensive stance.

“Aw, but I’ve been having a lot of fun in here with my little science experiments,” Dismas chuckles, opening his fists and dismissing the elemental energy. “You do know what happens when you heat and cool chains so frequently, right?”

The pangoro pulls his arms in, straining them against the metal chains. Tobias can hear them creak and groan for just a second before—

The chains snap like a cheap toy.

Tobias scrambles backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet. Nia moves with him.

Dismas isn’t the fastest ‘mon, but he’s still faster than the quagsire beside him. Before the water type can shoot off a move, the pangoro spins to punch her in the gut, the bright glint of metal following in his wake.

Bullet punch.

The quagsire resists steel type moves, but she still goes skidding back, slamming into the metal wall with a loud bang. Tobias flinches, seeing Vivi, hearing rain—

The malamar rushes past them, pushing Nia and Tobias back with one tentacle and attacking Dismas with the other. Dismas catches the move in a giant paw, grinning, shackles and broken chains dangling from his wrists.

The pangoro turns, swinging the malamar with him, and slams him into the floor, leaving a dent in the metal.

“Miro!” the quagsire calls, getting back to her feet. “Send out an alert!”

Right! The malamar’s a psychic-type. They must have some kind of telepathy system set up here to communicate.

Except the malamar doesn’t answer, rolling to dodge a heavy fist. He lunges into a peck that Dismas barely wards off with his legs and neck still shackled. The malamar looks almost frenzied, going after the pangoro with a vicious aggression. It’s strange, and so unsettling a strategy to see from a psychic type that Tobias realizes with a sinking heart what Dismas was doing earlier.

Taunt.

All the malamar can do is attack. And that is a terrible thing for a Pokemon who likely relies on stat changes and status moves to fight.

It’s clear from the easy way that Dismas handles the psychic type. With a single throat chop that leaves the malamar gasping, Tobias can see the end coming. Dismas sweeps his arm back, dark type energy leaving streaks like black lightning in its wake, then stabs a shadow claw through the malamar’s gut.

Nia makes a shrill sound, stumbling back with her paws clamped over her muzzle. Tobias just watches with a sick sense of deja vu.

Dismas lets the energy dissipate.

The malamar drops and lies still.

Tobias has to believe he’s alive, despite the odds. He can’t watch this monster kill another Pokemon right in front of him.

Dismas takes advantage of the moment of stunned silence. He lifts massive paws to grab either side of the shackle around his neck, snapping it open like a chestnut to drop at his paws. He sighs, satisfied, and rolls his neck with a crack that makes both Nia and Tobias wince.

The quagsire jumps into action, rushing at the pangoro. Her cheeks puff up with a water gun.

Dismas ducks under the first jet, fists flashing with fire before he punches right through the two chains holding his legs in place. Those, too, break with little resistance, likely weakened beforehand for this chance at escape.

The quagsire is slower than Dismas, but she fights strategically, keeping her distance when possible to shoot off a water pulse or mud shot. When she sees an opening, she moves in closer for an aqua tail or slam attack.

Tobias wants to help, afraid of what will happen if and when the quagsire goes down, but…Tobias knows what it’s like, trying to fight in close quarters with a partner you’re unused to. It can cause more problems than staying out of the fight entirely. They’d likely just get in the way.

Tobias glances at the crank to the door over his shoulder, wondering if they could open it themselves, but it’s nearly as tall as them. There’s no way they could get enough leverage.

Before Tobias can think of anything else, the quagsire is slammed down with enough force to dent the metal floor. She’s still fighting, landing a powerful drain punch on the pangoro that actually makes him grunt in pain, but Tobias gets the feeling that she isn’t going all-out. Whether that’s because she can’t use moves like surf or earthquake in this delicate prison cell without risking collateral damage or because she’s afraid of hurting Nia, Tobias, and the malamar, it’s clear to Tobias that she’s holding back.

She still puts up an impressive fight, but it only takes a few more powerful, unrestrained blows from Dismas before the quagsire thuds to the metal floor and stays there, out cold.

And with that, everything falls quiet. All Tobias can hear is the roar of his heartbeat in his ears. He stares at the pangoro, fear building in his gut.

Not again. He can’t do this again.

Nia steps in front of him, paws raised in a fighting stance. She looks confident, if you aren’t close enough to see the way she’s trembling.

Dismas turns to the two of them, huffing a laugh when he sees Nia’s stance. “What, you squirts wanna fight? You could just let me walk out, you know.”

Nia glances back at Tobias, as if asking what he wants to do. Tobias stares past her, unable to answer. He knows he’s shaking.

Tobias wanted this, not so long ago. He wanted the chance to take down the outlaws that killed his family. But now, trapped in here with Dismas, knowing he and Nia’s lives are on the line if they try to fight? Knowing what the pangoro can and will do, without a second thought?

Tobias is afraid. He wants to run. Hide. Let Dismas go without a fight.

But he can’t.

He can’t risk Dismas going free. He can’t risk the pangoro doing more harm to anyone else.

Tobias forces himself to breathe. Forces himself to step forward on stiff, shaky legs to stand beside Nia. He crouches into his own battle stance, trying to summon his fire.

Dismas laughs. “I’m impressed! Seeing as you just about wet yourself earlier, I thought you’d turn tail at the first sign of trouble.”

The pangoro strolls away from them, towards the far wall of the room. His broken chains drag on the metal floor with every step. He stops in front of the nearest of the tall, slim windows.

“If you wanna play hero…”

Dismas flings out a paw, slamming it into the window with a heart-stopping crack. It’s the way he’s holding his fingers, flat in a chopping motion, that tips Tobias off to what he just did.

The reflect and light screen cast over the glass, the only thing reinforcing it, stand no chance against a brick break attack. The barriers flicker, shimmering outward from the hit before dissipating entirely.

The unprotected glass cracks, splintering like a fault line. Right where Dismas’ fist hit, frothy water bursts in, spilling across the floor in an endless, powerful jet of water. In a room like this, sealed tight, it’s only a matter of time before it floods the space completely. It’d be a death trap for most Pokemon, but especially for Tobias.

Dismas grins as he turns back to them, toothy and ruthless. “Then let’s play.”

[alavestineneas]

and if you are there, why do i feel alone in this room?

pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader summary: The woman—a siren, some kind of sea beast lurking in deep, salted waters—sits near him with the ottoman under her feet that still seemed to deny her the comfort of rest, her eyes glinting with mischief when she notices his stare. Taunts, even, forge obliviousness to the spells she casts. Strange, otherworldly—redundant. Everything about her, down to the light gown and a headdress that showed little of her face, Feyd-Rautha was not used to seeing. warnings: mentions of death, violence, implied/referenced child abuse, religious symbolism, mentions of sa (!), blood and other parts of body, very non-healthy relationships chapter 1 - chapter 2 !this work is part 2 to the i can feel the soil falling over my head; no people are here, just the void in my chest! word count: 7,3k

author's notes: hi beautiful people! today, I have finally finished this chapter! be aware that this piece of literature is explicit and touches on some very heavy themes, including sa and child abuse. Please be mindful of it! As always, your opinions, suggestions, and critiques are welcome in the comments. Love you, and have a tasty read!

There are a lot of books stored in her memory, locked in the neurocytes safely. They are tucked into the cortex with love and tenderness that YN otherwise taught herself to suppress as a sign of her weaker self. But papers were non-living, so she felt like it was less dangerous for her to show warmth towards them; after all, if the objects can not acknowledge your love, does it really count as real? She read everything, mostly in an attempt to prepare herself for something she did not know the face of; she read to build the shield around herself, in desperate hope to be able to help at least her future self. YN read even now, although her foolish childhood desires were long gone, just to get a glimpse of the girl she was before the monsters escaped the pages.

The book she re-read the most was nothing special, nothing suiting the image she moulded herself into—a giant, relatively old encyclopaedia of animals inhabiting the furthest corners of Known Imperium. The letters inside, although faded a little, were left almost untouched by eyes—maybe it was what drew her in in the first place—to cherish something seen as unneeded. YN learned the small paragraphs almost by heart; she liked the idea of someone taking enough time to observe something as small as a roden to know its habits. She liked the idea of it happening to her one day. As it always is, it did not.

She chose her favourite animal without that much thought. Although even the notion of having something beloved was foolish, YN was made to choose; she and her sisters played the game of forest most often. The game was simple: pretend to be a creature you are not, forgetting the countless rules they had to follow. Pretending they have claws and teeth; pretending they can protect themselves not through intrigues and hidden motives but through open, bold force. Irulan was always a Katanga Lioness; she liked it because of the proximity to their house's symbol. YN did not; the grey pages of her beloved book described them as "observed to also scavenge on carrion of animals that were killed by other predators or died from natural causes''. What king of the animals steals the work of others simply to feed themselves? She did not tell Irulan that, of course—why would she?

YN chose a mountain lion for herself. Sure, she may have made a mistake thinking it was just another type of lion, but the game went too far to change anything, so she stuck with that. She even grew to love it—the drawing of the mountain lion on her character sheet, the way it prowled through the forest in her mind's eye. It had many names and many homes. Adaptive. Captivating.

She does not know why it came into her mind suddenly—maybe it was the dim light of the closed arena. The air circulated here freely, cooling through the complex systems of vents, even though it seemed to be deprived of any life—just a mechanical circle of the same molecules moving around her seated figure and returning to the hidden openings again and again. YN looked straight ahead; the two men were still sparring.

From her bench, they looked like one—two bodies moved so swiftly that one was unable to differentiate where the lines of their limbs ended. YN squinted her eyes; she was alone in the seating area, and still, she dared not move closer. The taller, thinner figure possessed skin so white it looked almost translucent underneath the cold light—YN wondered if she would be able to see the structures in his body through his clothed stomach. He moved well, almost too well for her not to press her lower row of teeth to the top one, hiding the tongue in a cave of pearl bones—she had hoped he was worse with his bare hands. YN had counted four hundred and five seconds before he made a mistake in his steps; it was a lot more than her own results, but for a man, he was good.

Feyd-Rautha had style; she had to give him that. He fought like a serpent would: calculated, precise. His fists knew the most effective targets, and his legs knew how to escape the blows of his opponent. If YN was to guess, he relied on muscle memory less than a usual fighter would, preferring to dwell in the moment instead. It made for a good show, sure, but it was not practical. She smiled to herself; of course, the na-Baron could not know what the real battle was like. How unfortunate for him—how delightful for her. YN still can't believe he let her watch his training every morning—was he really that stupid not to realise her motive? Was he too confident to consider having weaknesses?

Regardless, she saw what she needed to do - for three hours every day, she set unmovingly on the third bench in a small fighting ground, imprinting his every move in her mind. There are so many moves you can use and so many tricks you can do before she learns them all. YN did not care for the cold gaze thrown in her direction when Feyd-Rautha collapsed on the ground, taking a moment to rest before lurching onto his opponent again. She can wait.

Mountain lions are stealthy predators.

-

The days she spent here changed into months, their slow steps morphing into each other until time became a blur, a concept she did not grasp. Feyd-Rautha was a hard one to warm, but before she would mould him into something she wanted, YN needed to heat his DNA to a certain magnitude; otherwise, he would simply break. She would've gladly accepted this turn of fate too, but right now, keeping na-Baron alive is far more convenient for the Bene Gessarit. For her.

A concubine. A slap in the face: it seemed like life was determined to dissolve the small bits of her dignity in its endless pool of secrets. She was not a wife to Harkonnen na-Baron; no, she was to be his whore. If she was not too tired, she would've felt a pang of fear on her rising with oxygen lungs; a concubine's position is even lower here compared to one of a lawful wife's. YN remembers the words of her teacher as she prepared her for the union: Harkonnen concubines are killed after their first night in a position; if one is lucky enough to escape the fate by being with a child, she bears him until it's time for the baby to be born. One of the greatest honours for a Harkonnen is to take the life of his mother as soon as he enters the world.

She was to join na-Baron for breakfast today—a proposal YN waited long to receive, but part of her wishes she never did. It was worded like an invitation; YN knows it was not. Harkonnens rarely spoke when they did not give orders—a creature of habit, she supposed. So, she did what she had to: follow the slave to the chambers designated for the meal. The hem of her dress shone with a colour so foreign to the fort around her; YN needed to make herself stand out. Men are much like children, she learned—the more colourful the toy, the more likely they will want to play with it.

The walls were heavy here. They didn't bend in the shapes she was used to, preferring to stand tall. They didn't have to hide their strength underneath a complicated facade—quite the opposite. They paraded it, wearing it like the honour it is. Staying unremorsefully unbending. Maybe it's the air or a different measure of gravity; maybe it's her habit of soaking up the surroundings and letting them poison her insides, growing rotten in between the folds of her stomach tissue, but her legs are metal, stone-cold, pulling YN deeper and deeper into the floor. She tries so hard to ignore the three creatures in the corner.

They are hairless, much like the man in front of her, and dressed in matching black. YN would've mistaken them for Harkonnen royalty if it were not for the iron collars on their necks and the glowing black eyes that seemed to follow her every move. She would've been happy to have some company and not be forced into solitude with na-Baron if it were not for a still convulsing body on the floor. A body she did not recognise, but it could've easily been her own.

The creatures seemed to enjoy the involuntary moves of the soon-to-be corpse; they closed their eyes in delight and bared the sharp, black-coloured teeth in sheer pleasure as they lurched into the white flesh. They ripped it apart with only their hands, not bothering to use the prepared knives for more than a big incision from head to stomach. The sounds of chewing and gnawing filled the room, echoing off the walls and sending electric impulses down her body. YN was used to the metallic smell and the bright colour of arterial blood, but this was not a simple death. It was a show, and she was the long-awaited watcher.

Feyd-Rautha seemed unbothered by the sight near him. His hands, covered in thick streaks of blood, were deep to his elbows in the body. He dissected the corpse with precision, his eyes focused and his grip steady. He looked calm, even peaceful. Na-Baron was in good humour today. ''I must say, your arrival has graced us with much more than just the dowery; nothing could've made this union more auspicious—such a rare bird you are, daughter of our generous Emperor. A princess, yet treated no better than a common slave.''

Here it was: the thing she was thinking about all the way to this strange, garbage planet in the dress that pokes bleeding holes in her abdomen with each glass she downs. From his lips, it sounds even more bitter; even savages found the way the Emperor sold one of his daughters so easily strange. "Both of our houses have traditions far beyond our understanding," YN shrugs, scaring her thoughts away like annoying flies. Here, in a room so far from the comfort of her home, they moved too fast, bringing nausea to her throat.

She is here to secure the bloodline of House Harkonnen, to ensure the balance needed in the Imperium. YN does not notice how suddenly her gaze darkens or how tightly the hands that rested on the chair are now holding the pleated velvet of her ruby-red gown. Oh, the baby. The tiny creature inside her womb, the future head for the Baron's crown to be placed upon. The yet unconcieved child she could not feel love for. She was given no other choice but to risk its life before even giving it a chance to obtain its gift.

''Then you will find my present to be quite fitting.''

YN watches in silence as na-Baron reaches inside the rib cage of the corpse. He reaps out an organ with one swift motion, almost like plucking a harmful sprout from the garden. The organ is broun and rosewood, a weird mixture of shades that make it harder for her to focus on anything but the thing in his large hand. The gift he meant to give was a human heart.

She feels his walk long before she sees a figure departing from its place at the table; she guesses the end point of his manoeuvres too easily. It's almost funny—a cruel, senseless joke; how obvious the slight tremor in her hands is; how heavy her eyes become at the sight of Harkonnen black. The body positions itself near; if she squints, she can hear the hot breathing somewhere between her shoulder blades. His hand snakes around her neck quickly, positioning the organ right in front of her mouth. YN can detect the smell hitting her nostrils before she closes the receptors in them. She wants to scream, but the notes die in her throat. Who would she scream for? She hears the creatures hiss and whisper—the heart is a good part, from what she can make out. It did not need to be wasted on people like her.

''Will you not accept it?'' Feyd-Rautha's words are mocking, but his dark blue eyes stay virgin to the laughter. They drill small spots on her neck from behind with such force that YN can almost feel the burnt smell of her sweat-covered skin.

She takes a breath. Her own heart shrinks, its vessels beating with intensity twice as much as needed. Still alive, she notes absently. Still breathing. The feeling is natural and easy; the forced calmness in her body tingles the muscles, braiding her nerves into a pattern similar to the netting. Then, she opens her mouth.

"If I shall lick the blood of your hands, Feyd-Rautha, dare to make it your own."

That's it.

Maybe the Emperor was right to spare her none of the Sardaukars and a quarter of her dresses. She did not need more; she was not expected to survive long enough to use half of her clothes. YN chucked under her breath. Dead over diet preferences—how profound.

After a moment, the pale face behind her also twists, allowing the blackened teeth to escape the grip of thin lips. Like this, na-Baron looks less human and more like the evil he was said to be. He throws the heart to the creatures—they catch it greedily—and places a bloodied hand on her shoulder, the droplets of crimson going unnoticed on the brightly coloured cloth. ''Very well, then. Let us eat.''

YN nods. She looks around almost instinctively; nothing could make her eat a thing after the sight she just witnessed, but she refuses the na-Baron once; she is not about to do it again. The food is a lot, but her plate is almost empty: only a small amount of salad is here, sadly staring into the hunger in her eyes and a now featherless creature in an unnatural pose, suggesting its non-poetical death. The bird is small, almost delicate; its wings are pitifully glued to the body. YN does not want to let her mind draw the comparison, and does not allow her brain to admit a direct analogy; she dissects the bird with a dull knife and puts a piece in her dry mouth. The creature tastes good—almost too good to be expected in this brightly lit hall.

Most often deer is the mountain lion’s staple diet. However, they can survive preying on small animals as well.

-

The night covers Giedi Prime rather quickly; it never lingers, politely waiting for its masters to finish their daily affairs; it hits like a coward, from behind, trapping those not careful enough to hide before its arrival. The harsh, toxic waves of lazy winds hit the walls of the halls coldly lighted with a few sphears; they look like deep forest clearings, forming a system of endless options, ultimately leading to one, inevitable, end. His work chambers aren't big; he does not visit them often for them to be. The solitary metal desk before him is filled with letters, drafts of laws, and official documents, all waiting for his approval. It exhausts Feyd-Rautha to no end, the sheer stupidity of most of the advisers here; almost half of the documents were riddled with errors and inconsistencies. The forever present in his head dull migraine grows stronger when he opens the shortest letter; he almost busts his skull open when the pain heavies.

He ponders too much—the type of thoughts you can feel running on your tongue but never escaping. He is not used to being in the mist; all of his life is so painfully contrasted that no doubt of its nature can survive the sharp edge of his mind. There are things he can escape—forget, even—but some linger in his ribcage too long for them to vanish. Soon, they grow into his lungs with small, unbreakable threads, becoming him. He used to try to get them away from his heart, as if it held some value. Now, he is smarter, older, and more indifferent, he lets them pierce yet another piece of human flesh with no sorrow.

Of course, he remembered her face. The same face that haunted his sleep ever since she dared to appear before his eyes. Feyd-Rautha, naturally, found her little frolic that day. He spent an entire evening studying her work, analysing every move she could've made with her blade to achieve such outcomes. Sure, some things he would've done differently, but the sheer brutality of an animal he would not have guessed the girl possessed charmed him. Feyd-Rautha was a proud man, but he, too, held a love for beautiful things. For that, he hadn't told the Baron of the sight he discovered in the reading room. For that, he is now willing to pretend to believe her eyes when the fear fleshes in them.

Feyd-Rautha curses; she sickens. Like a bone stuck somewhere down his throat, not letting him live without a pang of mocking. She lurks, and whispers—Feyd-Rautha wants to smash her pretty head against the wall just to reveal the secrets she hides from him so he can finally understand the hold she retains. He is no stranger to the desire to own, or devour, but the fear in the back wall of his stomach is an alien in his body. He tries to hide it—to paint over it with anger or violence—but it remains a constant presence, gnawing at him from within. It's no use; the woman is a shark, designed to sense the fright. Maybe that's what brought him in in the first place—the steel eyes so similar to his own in a narrow hall all those years before. Maybe he was so used to the danger that he craved it subconsciously, looking for it to make him feel like himself again. A reoccurring childhood nightmare he can't escape; he doesn't want to escape.

Feyd-Rautha finds the chair to put his weight on and waits until the tingling, spinning sensation spreads from his temples down his neck, finding its way into his bloodstream and passing his organs one by one, until none are left uncorrupted. Of course, he expects it. The woman slipped into his brain and now chews her way into it like a parasite downs the rotten body. He knows he should be terrified, but instead, he feels a strange sense of relief. Feyd-Rautha can hear the whispers of his own mind fighting to remain the only owners of the secrets and desires buried within. He feels his eyelids heavy; a second later, the whites of his eyes are staring at the ceiling, the blue eye lenses dissolving in light.

Water. The first thing he feels is ice-cold water dripping onto his face, filling his lungs, and sending a shock through his arms. This body does not feel like his; it's too small, too narrow. His eyes are trying to adjust as fast as they can, jumping from one blurred spot to another until finally catching a glimpse of the surroundings. His brain does not have time to process the picture; his nose is filled with fluid again, and his open mouth is gasping for air but only taking in more liquid. He tries waving his hands around, but the stronger grip is firm on his nape, pulling him further down into the depths. The hand yanked him out just as he was about to fall into darkness again, the sound of water changing to loud screeching.

''How dare you hit me, devil child? Let the water wash away your dirt. Repent; beg for forgiveness for all of your rotten nature.''

The voice is unknown to him; it is harsh and filled with fury. The woman's face is twisted in anger; splashes of water on it match his. He can't tell if they are from his antics or tears. The woman's grip tightens, her nails digging into his skin. The black clothes on her figure make her status known - a Bene Gessarit witch. Feyd-Rautha tries to lurch forward and hit her back, but her strength is overwhelming. He feels panic coursing through his veins instead of oxygen—a sensation he did not think he could experience anymore. He wants to bark a response to show her that he is not afraid, but his voice catches in his throat.

Feyd-Rautha has no time to wonder what the woman wants; she brings his face to the bathtub again, and he opens his mouth involuntarily, frantically begging not to do it anymore. He says everything she wants to hear; he cries out and promises to wash his sins away. The voice does not sound like his at all. He is desperate to end this nightmare now, but some force holds him here. The woman is not satisfied; her ears are deaf to his pleas.

His face ends up on the water surface a moment later, his nose hitting the wall of the bathtub as the woman holds him down. He feels his body go limp with utter horror; this time, the shouting woman won't stop. Her voice grows quieter, replaced by the sound of small waves hitting the brim and spilling; from right to left, the water turns red, and his tongue tastes the iron he knows from sliding blades into his mouth.

''Echidna, what the fuck are you doing? Let her go; she is going to choke!''

''Get that spawn to me, for I will not let her ruin my life anymore! I must finish what I have started!''

Feyd-Rautha's head is filled with oxygen once again; his lungs take a desperate breath in, sending too much air to his blood system. He falls on his back, the world spinning. He does not care for the weeping woman in black or the chaos unfolding around him. His only thought is that everything is finally done and that the white floors are a magnificent place for drops of liquid to fall from his normally bald head's waterfall of hair.

He wakes up suddenly, the sensation long gone. His steps are heavy again; the body he inhibits no longer feels like a cage. The voices have left him for now, and the only thing on his forehead left is small drops of sweat and a pathetic, frightened, beating heart. The cold breeze from the darkened sands surrounding the city wishes to prove otherwise—it heavies and plants its spikes into his reddened cheeks. The horizon gleams at him, almost taunting; not a single star is to be seen under the imposing clouds. He will kill her; maybe he will even enjoy it. Feyd-Rautha can handle a lot, but not the shame of being seen. Not the guilt of being caught wanting.

There are only three ways to hunt a mountain lion: tracking, waiting in ambush, and with dogs.

-

The gliding motions of heavy fabrics across the wooden floors created a strange pattern of a song now centuries old. Here, in a room so long that the wind travelled through the hollows, her careful steps seemed to almost fall silent. Nothing was there for the preying eyes to see. YN closes her eyes; with that, even for a moment, the world stays still. She knows where the hollow staircase will lead her; she feels it in her stomach with every step she takes. YN knows nothing about the future, but the past lives deep in her memories, haunting her every move. She knows she shouldn't have done it. Travelling through one's mind is a sin she can't escape; she will pay the price for it in her blood, but the Bene Gesarit did not send her here to survive, so it's of no use to be afraid now. It makes no difference for the dead if you weep at their grave or not.

The burning sphere of light in the hall stops spinning; the doors open without any noise, although if the pounding eardrums had not stunned her hearing, she could've noticed the faint thuds. YN waits; there are no flashes of her happiest memories or the faces of her loved ones in her drained mind. No, in what seems to be her last moments, she thinks of what she could've been if the world had not given her a sword to turn into.

Feyd-Rautha appears in the hall; his steps aren't rushed, and his expression is stone-cold. She eyes him shamelessly: nothing. She sees nothing; she senses it deep in her crying bones. He drags her by the hair like a mother would with her misbehaving child; roughly, he pulls her towards the exit, his grip tightening with each step until the door behind them closes and her knees meet the cold ground with a nasty thud. The bruises will stain them soon, not that it matters now.

''You should've known better than to cross me,'' he hisses, his voice gruff. It's cold, chilling—the way his lips part to reveal a sinister smile. ''Now, you can think yourself vanished, little witch.''

YN does not answer—what fool would beg the deaf? The blade against her chin is sharp; she knows how attentive he is when it comes to inflicting pain. It pokes right into the Omehyoid muscle, a dull pain shooting through her body. If she has got to die, it may as well be from his skilled arms. How beautiful he is in the twisted pleasure he finds in her suffering. Unearthly, almost too perfect to be made of simple flesh and bone. Something was unnerving, unforgettable in the net of veins under his pearly skin; it was as if he were a work of art, meticulously crafted to bring physical pain and optical pleasure in equal measure. A silver glint under the defined cheekbones, a redness of lips filled with blood vessels. For a second, YN wonders what it would be like to bite into it, like an apple that lay too long under the golden sun; would the blood slip as generously as the sweet nectar? Handsome as poison, as a black sun on his forsaken planet, as death.

''Go on. Kill me, then; let me escape you once and for all.''

Under the deep sea of his eyes, something moved; his eyes dipped into her, part by part. Like the slow, deliberate dance of a predator stalking its prey, his gaze lingered on her, calculating and intense. YN lowered her head to push the knife a little deeper into the flesh. A strange thought lingered in her brain; she found herself on her knees in front of him, almost willingly. She has worshipped God all her life; who, if not her, can recognise his creation? The Devil. Lucifer. Satan. The man with horns so big they once touched the skies; a corrupt angel, fallen from grace so long ago he couldn't remember way back if he tried. They have warned her about him, but is it her fault that God has disowned her earlier than she could? Did it really matter to her, before whom to kneel, as long as she felt a sense of power and control in her submission?

All that mattered now was that he wanted to hurt her. He wanted her.

She sees the recognition flicker on his face. Caught. The blade slides quickly across her exposed neck, the blood sprouting out in a weak, painfully quick stream. Feyd-Rautha kissed her, biting her bottom lip till the stream of boldly coloured blood trickled down his chin. He did so like an animal would, baring his teeth and dragging them across the pulsating vein on her neck. YN's laughing cry echoes in the empty room; she is forced to admit that he felt good.

Never approach a mountain lion; most mountain lions prefer to avoid confrontations, so never approach them and make them feel cornered.

-

The woman—a siren, some kind of sea beast lurking in deep, salted waters—sits near him with the ottoman under her feet that still seemed to deny her the comfort of rest, her eyes glinting with mischief when she notices his stare. Taunts, even, forge obliviousness to the spells she casts. Strange, otherworldly—redundant. Everything about her, down to the light gown and a headdress that showed little of her face, Feyd-Rautha was not used to seeing. The beautiful substance of her hair caught the light from the sun like a mirage in the desert, reflecting in his eyes with painful hits. The jewels, too, have found their way onto her clothes, but they were hidden beneath the layers of fabric. They shined brightly, impertinently, framing her figure in a glow that seemed to come from within.

To his surprise, the skills woman possessed spread out to politics as well, with her witch training proving useful in court. Feyd-Rautha did not miss how his advisors grew more uneasy when she entered the room, her careful eyes scanning their faces for even a hint of betrayal or deceit. Like a proud discoverer, he ached to share his new-found wonder with the blind audience, but something in him protested in a mare thought of showing the precious jewel of his eye to the cluster of unworthy. So, Feyd-Rautha did the only thing he knew how— all of his secret observations were done from afar, masterfully hidden behind the facade of casual indifference.

As he drags yet another blade across the surface of the whetstone, he thinks about her delicate hands on his neck, her ringed fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. Harkonnen men rarely wed; they just take what they capture—men and women—and turn them into slaves. Some, if particularly sweet, are reserved for fucking. There are no special songs for that; there isn't a specific word in their native tongue for wife, either. It doesn't matter; YN is nothing of the sort. A concubine, a possession, a tool for pleasure and procreation—the Harkonnen way was simple.

''Are you done eye-fucking me now, or do you need more time with your blade?'' she sneers, her voice mocking. Only she could get away with such bold defiance in his presence, but she does not seem to care for the unusualness of it.

YN motions for him to come closer, her eyes studying the way his legs move. Feyd-Rautha has no control over them; the steps make themselves. She plays the game very well; the chase fuels something primal within him. Thirst. Hunger. It was the Harkonnen training talking to him—the wild, ancient sensation taking over his insides and imprisoning his mind in a cage of helpless desire. It spread its tentacles down to his fingertips, nesting in his abdomen. He positions himself in front of her, his body betraying him as he leans in closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Feyd-Rautha's hands repeat the ritual almost instinctively, rolling the hem of her deep purple dress up to her waist.

''Stop for a second,'' she whispers against his ear, her breath warm and inviting. ''Can I give you a piece of advice?''

Feyd-Rautha can feel the anger creeping into his body; he does not like to be refused. ''No,'' he grumbles, turning her around forcefully. "I don't need your advice," he snaps, his grip tightening on her arm.

YN does not seem to care for it. ''Don't do it. It will only lead to trouble.''

''What?'' He stops, his eyes narrowing as he absorbs the woman's words. The doubts that had lingered in the back of his mind suddenly grew louder, echoing through his mind. He releases her arm, his expression stoic. ''You are insane, woman. What are you talking about?''

''You know what I mean.''

The unease boils in his stomach. How could she know? He was careful not to slip anything; she wasn't able to cast her spells anymore either. But her knowing gaze tells him otherwise. ''You can not know the future,'' he pronounces.

''I don't need to know the future to see the truth, Feyd-Rautha. Your judgement is clouded by rage, and your mind is not as sharp as it usually is. You are not as invincible as you think you are.''

She is bluffing, he thinks. He hopes she is. Feyd-Rautha almost wished there was no cloth covering her face, nothing to hide her expressions as she lay beneath him. He catches her flamed eyes and the way they circle his face in one swift motion before settling on the ceiling above. It unnerves him, but he refuses to show it. She is no master here; she is simply a servant. That is not what power looks like, if he ever recognised one, and Feyd-Rautha knew power.

''Get out, now.''

Nothing was portrayed on her face as she curtseyed; nothing was there when she turned and walked to her rooms, leaving nothing but the ghost of the human body's warmth.

Mountain lions are more at home in brushy areas than in open prairies.

-

And then, he disappeared. Like the sound of the morning birds falling silent in the cacophony of voices of the city on her home planet, there was no trace of na-Baron in the entire Harkonnen fortress. YN thought she was slowly but surely going mad; no one but her noticed the usual place by the window empty, and no one but her seemed to care enough to know where he went. She caught strange looks from a few, and frankly, she thought they were right. She looked like a mad woman, her hair quickly plated and her dress hurriedly laced, her eyes darting around the room in search of any sign of Feyd-Rautha's massive figure. Noon was dragged into the evening, and then night, for three, long days until she heard the long-awaited news: na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen had tried to usurp his uncle and had failed.

She has told him so. A fucking brainless ram, with stubbornness bigger than his cock—why did he think he could outsmart the Baron? He will pay for his dumbness with his blood, perhaps even his limb—the thought brought nausea to YN's throat. She was lucky the Baron did not consider her important enough to be knowledgeable of such schemes; she lowered her head in the desert, hiding from the sand storms of Harkonnen politics; she waited for two long weeks until the announcement was made; Feyd-Rautha was forgiven. The celebration in honour of this news is to be today; she is to attend it. Not like his concubine, YN supposed, but more like the princess she still was.

Now, she took her time. YN chose a gown she wanted long enough to make even a tireless slave yawn, savouring each moment before their meeting. She was a victor now, in their small game of cat and mouse. He was a cat, but the mouse could still outwit him with grace and style. YN smiled at the wondering attendants; she looked good, and she was going to meet him.

The walk from her chambers to the Grand Hall wasn't too long; she would've walked a thousand more stairs if it was needed. The doors opened without a sound, revealing nothing but a mere celebration of yet another year under the reign of Harkonnens. The lines of slaves changed one another, the uneven circles of people dancing appearing and fleeing to the cheerful tone of strings. She was set somewhere between two Harkonnen lords she had no chance of knowing; she felt a sense of unease creeping up her spine as she tried to maintain a polite smile. Their gazes didn't look right; something sinister lurked inside them—hiding a secret she had no chance of knowing.

One of them turned to her, a chilling smile spreading across his face. "How are you finding the evening, lady YN? Or, what should I call you?,'' he mastered a fake confusion. ''Perhaps, darling? Concubine has a cheap wing to it; quite unworthy of a face so lovely as yours, don't you think?"

Dirt. The thing that crawled under her skin at his words was like dirt, making her feel unclean and exposed. She forced a laugh, trying to brush off his comments, the crown of her hair moving with muscles underneath her skin. "I am a princess, my Lord. Address me as such."

It would be enough every other noon, but today. The man's face twists, as if he just remembered something; he turns, the wine in his goblet splashing on the tablecloth. ''I think na-Baron wouldn't be too angry if I stole a princess for the night," he sneered, his eyes darkening with malice.

''Does it matter to you either way?''

YN watches as the smirk, so similar to Feyd-Rautha's, appears on the men's lips, although it doesn't feel the same. She fights back disgust as the man nods, biting into a hefty chunk of prey. His eyes, once focused on her, drifted away. YN chose to follow them; the string of fat streaming down the man's mouth onto the silver tablecloth made her nauseous. She looked from one unfamiliar face to another, until the cold feeling in her abdomen crept its way onto her chest.

There he was. His figure is unusually crouching as he sits on the podium reserved for members of the dynasty. The dark blue eyes are red now; the thin blood vessels in them are torn and emptied. His body seemed to suck the light out of the hall inside, casting a shadow over the room. There are no scars on his smooth face, but the sunken cheeks and hollow eyes spoke of a suffering that went beyond physical wounds. YN almost wished she saw him dead; whatever this was, it was surely much worse. He raised his eyes slowly to meet hers; something flickered in them before turning back to their empty state. Feyd-Rautha parts his dry lips to say something to her—she can't understand a word he draws with his breath.

From the place nearby, the Baron's voice booms, his low, almost whisper-like vowels mending into one. His face, covered with layers of skin and dead cells, twists into what was meant to be a welcoming smile—the corners of his paper-thin lips dance, lowering themselves only to jump higher, and his eyes travel from one corner to another, unable to be still even for a moment. He speaks of things YN knows nothing about court intrigue, power struggles, and alliances that shape the fate of their world, heavy with hidden meanings and unspoken threats. She does not listen until he gestures towards her, a scent of spice and decomposing flesh lingering.

''Sergeant Voss has served me well, and his loyalty at the right time is not to be forgotten. Here, I bestow upon him the highest honour of all; what was once mine, is now his. Do not let go of her if she screams, Sergeant; the girl is a fine one.''

No. YN almost does not recognise the hand as her own as the man drags her to the bed that appeared out of nowhere, freezing with horror as the people around her continue to watch in silence, their eyes devoid of any emotion or empathy. The tradition, she notes, is the one she learned so much about bedding in front of the entire court as a symbol of unity. She choked on her own tears as the man smiled at her pleas for help; they seemed to make him even more pleased.

YN looks, frantically, to the place she saw Feyd-Rautha sitting just a moment before. He would help; surely, he would not let them do it to her—his servant, his concubine, his. But the seat is empty. The scream echoing through the hall does not register as hers right away; he has sold her. For his own freedom, for a chance to be free from the consequences of his own stupid actions. Surely, the Harkonnens could not get rid of her openly—it would mean war—but she was not immune to the man who now owned her. His hands travelled her body with such audacity that YN wanted to cut them off—to cut her chest just so she could not feel the fingers digging into her skin. A sole reminder she was a woman first and a human second.

Mountain lions are solitary hunters.

The man undressed himself quickly; all of the soldiers were trained to do so. She should run; she should fight back, but the pair of unmoving hands pinning her wrists down was a stark reminder of her helplessness. The man lowers himself closer, his hot breath against her neck making her shudder in fear. She can feel him against her skirts; she can feel the weight of his body pressing down on her. The adrenaline is pumping through her veins; she will survive. Whatever it fucking takes, even if her body is bruised and broken, she will survive.

They prefer to ambush their prey from behind by swiftly and cleanly breaking the neck.

She bites—her teeth launch towards his cheek, feeling the warm flesh give way beneath her. She sinks them deeper, making holes big enough to draw blood. It's hot, and sickening on her tongue, but she does not have time for these thoughts; her next blow is in his stomach, with his knee jammed into his gut. She can feel his body convulse in pain, giving her a chance to throw him on the bed, his broad back facing her.

If they haven’t broken the neck, they will suffocate the animal.

There is nothing around that could serve as a knife; her captors made sure of that, and the sheets are too thin to wrap around his neck. She looks around the room, desperate for something to use, but the space around her is empty. YN curses as the man regains his composure and begins to struggle against her hold. Her elbow meets his nose with a sickening crunch, causing blood to spurt out. She takes a breath in; her hand wraps around his neck, forming a tight hold as she goes into the headlock. She chokes him, so desperately trying to live. And the man trashes against her grip, his white face turning a deep shade of purple before finally going limp in her arms.

Shame.

A thing that followed her after every life she took is now absent. Maybe the Giedi Prime's cruelty did have its effect on her; YN feels nothing but a sense of emptiness as she stands over the lifeless body.

''Do you have any more men to gift me to, Baron Vladimir? The night is still young.''

Her voice has changed. It holds a certain hiss now, a rasp that wasn't present before; it has matured and bloomed into half an octave deeper tone. It bites through the noise easily, cutting sharply.

The Baron laughs. His eyes gleam with amusement as he gestures towards the door. "Plenty more where that came from, my dear, but it's enough for today. Here,'' he throws something in her, a smirk ghosting on his lips. ''You've earned it.''

YN catches it and inspects the object in her hand. A small, golden broche catches the light, glinting in the dimly lit room. A head of the Bighorn ram stares back at her, the symbol of House Harkonnen. The taste of victory mingled with the metallic tang, leaving a bittersweet sensation in her mouth. Joy courses her veins—she isn't afraid. Finally, she is not afraid. Finally, she can look at her blood-stained hands without humiliation. Is it her fault she was born a better knife than a person?

Bighorn sheep are not a primary food source in most areas. However, when a lion does kill a sheep, they typically will continue to do so over and over again, until the herd is depleted.

tag list:

@oh-you-mean-me @juliskopf @moonsoulk @mamawiggers1980 @ashy-kit

[varpusvaras]

They don't sleep during the first night.

They have turns resting. General Kenobi stays up first, after Fox has managed to get Leia to sleep. Fox lays down next to Leia on the one bed in the small house and he closes his eyes.

He doses off, free of nightmares for the first time since leaving. Maybe it's because of the presence of a Jedi, Fox doesn't know. He's thankful for it anyway.

Then it's his turn, and General Kenobi sits on the floor next to the bed and closes his eyes, and he stays very still until the suns start to rise.

Then Leia wakes up, and Fox feeds her after General Kenobi has made them breakfast, and then they wait.

No one comes.

Fox plays with Leia. Feeds her again. Puts her down for a nap. He checks his communicator. It's silent.

Leia wakes up. Fox plays with her while General Kenobi makes then dinner. Fox feeds her and forces his own meal down. He cannot afford not to eat, no matter how tight his insides feel and how little appetite he has.

Fox puts Leia to bed. She is also calmer here than she had been in the ship. That makes Fox suspect even more that General Kenobi has something to do with it.

Fox doesn't ask.

Leia falls asleep, and Fox sits there, at the edge of the bed, and stares at the window.

The desert has cooled down by now, but it still feels like the heat is lingering inside. An invisible, uncomfortable force, pressing down on Fox's skin, and he cannot escape it anywhere.

The desert around them is quiet. Leia sleeps peacefully next to him.

Fox is just waiting for the door to be shot down and for the Empire to come flooding in like a rush of red, hot blood.

General Kenobi breaks the silence first.

"I noticed the glow last night", he says, and points at his neck when Fox turns to look at him.

"Yes", Fox says. "It's difficult to conceal, even with extensive bacta treatments, since it is so close to skin and bone."

General Kenobi hums quietly.

"Is that how you survived?" He asks then.

Fox thinks briefly of the pain and the numbness, of his body being kept alive for him, of the crunch of his bones as they had been broken and then set again, and of the weightless hours spend submerged.

"Yes", he answers.

General Kenobi nods. They don't talk more of it.

"You didn't say how they found out", he says.

"I am not sure", Fox tells him. "But they knew where to come to look for her, so they must've found out that Bail was there when she died."

General Kenobi leans his jaw against his hand as he thinks.

"We don't know if they know about both of them, then", he says. "Or just about her."

"If they know about them both", Fox says, "and located only one child on Alderaan, they most likely think that the boy is with you."

General Kenobi nods again.

"So they would have to find me first", he murmurs. He looks out of the window, towards the silent dunes.

Fox looks at Leia.

"Do they live close by?" He asks.

"Relatively", General Kenobi answers. "Distances on Tatooine are long, even the shorter ones. But they could very quickly trace my location to theirs."

"It's too risky for us to be here, then", Fox says.

Leia is his priority. Fox would do anything for her. But he cannot put her brother in danger, either, to keep her safe. It's not fair.

Has anything ever been, though?

General Kenobi turns to look at him.

"Do you have anywhere else to go?" He asks. He sounds like he already knows the answer.

Fox shakes his head.

"Then, for the time being", General Kenobi says, "this is the safest place for us all."

He sounds gently confident, like he is trying to reassure Fox of the truth of his words.

Fox has no other options than to believe him right now.

Leia sniffles, and her face scrunches up slightly. Fox runs his finger over the bridge of her nose, until she calms back down.

General Kenobi is watching them when Fox turns back towards him.

"Go to sleep, Commander", he says. "I'll take the first watch."

"Just Fox, please", Fox says. He is not a Commander anymore, after all. Just Fox.

"Alright", General Kenobi says. "I'm just Ben, now."

Fox doesn't think the name really suits the General.

Perhaps he can sense Fox's thoughts, because he smiles slightly.

"Things change, don't they?" He says. "Now, please. Go to sleep, Fox."

Fox doesn't argue with him. He lays down next to Leia, and when she wriggles a bit, he strokes her short, soft hair gently, until she settles once again.

Then Fox closes his eyes and falls into a dreamless sleep.

[calmcoldevening]

• Thomas hewitt (dating)- So Reader knows Thomas like we were born in the same town or were neighbors something of the sorts. And we hear rumors about how the Hewitt family are murders,/cannibals. But we remind our business cause we're like, nah cause they didn't hurt me or I haven't seen anything, They're just a little quirky, We defend their family. But for some reason Luda tells us not to go in the basement, We're like okay, whatever it's not my business. Reader is like a, 'idc not my business type.' Until one day reader hears noises or something, so we get curiousand go down there. But this is where we enter the angst, Cause Thomas or someone hears movement in the basement and thinks a victim is trying to escape. So they do something to us which makes us scared of them (torture or something) and it can end with like fluff or something, Because im pretty sure reader would forgive them.

Thomas Hewitt x reader, who knew out he's a cannibal and murderer

Tw: cannibalism, murdering, blood, violence (well, it's the TCM)

Texas was your home, you loved everything about it, from the picturesque meadows filled with yellow buttercups to the dusty city road. These beautiful orange and scarlet sunsets and golden sunrises reflected in a small lake fifteen minutes walk from your house looked like the most real picturesque paintings. It was hot and humid during the day, and cool enough at night. The air was filled with dust and dry grass. Birds were rustling in the distance.

You liked everything here, because you grew up in this place. Your parents moved to Texas before you were born, so this was the only place you'd ever seen in your life. But it was heaven for you. The city you lived in was relatively small, so everyone knew each other.

You've always been sweet and kind, perhaps even a naive child with a soul too pure for this world. Maybe that's why all the neighbors in the neighborhood loved you. The children played with you, and the kind grandmothers often treated you to sweets or pies. Your face has always been decorated with a satisfied smile and cookie crumbs.

Everyone was surprised when they found out about your friendship with the "strange boy". His name was Thomas, he was one of your neighbors down the road. You called him Tommy. His face was covered with a decent layer of bandages, which he kept awkwardly adjusting with his small hands. You always giggled with that cute gesture, but not out of malice, but in a kind way. After that, you went up to him and gently helped him cope with his little problem. You combed his hair and put his hands in order. The boy always had short-cropped nails with dirt under them and dry palms, probably from housework. But apart from his oddities and inability to talk, and he was quite an ordinary child.

Almost.

Sometimes you'd find him somewhere in the backyard or in the field. He stood there, deep in thought. Next to him, you noticed a small fluffy body and a crimson puddle. Sometimes you were scared of his violence against animals, but Thomas was always in a hurry to calm you down. He caressed your cheek and explained with gestures that he had only found the animal just like that. And you always believed him out of your stupid childish naivety. Time passed, and you got closer. The Hewitt family has always been kind to you. Sometimes, they were even more attentive and caring towards you than your own parents. Even grumpy Charlie. Sometimes a man intervened in disputes if you were molested by local hooligans. He could even punch them in their pretty faces, as long as they didn't touch you, the little girl of this family. Luda has always wanted a daughter, and now you have appeared. The woman was more than happy when she found out how close you are with her son. That's why it was no secret that you and Tommy were dating. On the contrary, Luda helped Thomas in every possible way to impress you, she helped him make gifts for you and told him how to take care of the girls. Charlie just turned on his adult film cassettes, that's all his support.

You really loved each other. You were the only one who really understood and cared about Tommy, despite his appearance. You loved his long dark hair, which you often so gently washed and combed. You loved those frosty blue eyes, like two big deep lakes full of love for you. You loved his masks, and tenderly kissed every scar on Thomas's face and hands. You were perfect. Tommy's heart belonged entirely to you.

And now you're 24. Thomas was a little older, but it was never a problem. The man was still very attentive and caring.

But gradually the city emptied with the closure of the slaughterhouse. It was a big blow for most of the residents of the city, because there were no other ways to earn money here. You turned out to be one of the few who stayed. Maybe you just didn't want to leave your home. Or maybe you didn't want to leave Thomas and his family. Anyway, it wasn't easy for all of you, at least because basically there wasn't a lot of food and all that.

But after a while, surprisingly, everything got better. Not really, of course, but old Charlie started getting meat from somewhere. It wasn't as tender as some beef used to be, but it's better than nothing. Although you weren't a big fan of meat before, so you almost didn't care about it. You helped Luda in her shop at the gas station, and at home in your free time you even grew some vegetables, which also helped the Hewitt family a lot. In general, everything was more than good, and yet, the atmosphere in the house was different now.

There have always been some strange rumors around the Hewitt family, sometimes even terrible ones. And yet, you loved Tommy no matter what. The whole family was kind to you, so you had no reason to doubt them, right? Thomas has always been nice to you. You often walked on cool evenings, just holding hands. You were talking about your day, and he just listened with a smile on his lips. You were the only person he trusted and loved. The guy liked your voice, your way of talking and your laugh. Undoubtedly, in his eyes you were damn beautiful, but it seemed that he was forever looking through your appearance, into your very soul. It was so sweet. You couldn't help but fall in love with him even more.

You were in the kitchen at the Hewitt house making a pumpkin pie. Luda has always been surprised by your wonderful cooking skills, so she wasn't afraid to leave you alone. He needed to go back to the store for a while, where Hoyt had taken her. So you're left alone. Humming to yourself, you swayed your hips to the beat of your made-up song. It's good that no one was watching you now and you could do anything. Finally, you put the pie in the oven and wiped your hands on the fabric of your apron with a victorious smile. After removing all the ingredients and washing the dishes, you sat down on a chair and just began to wait. Hundreds of different thoughts flashed through your head, from this very pie to the little ring you noticed in Tommy's room. You were filled with excitement, which made you happily bite your lip. Could it be...?

Your thoughts were interrupted by some kind of thud from somewhere below. Your body instantly tensed up. It was scary to hear something like that when you were alone at home.

You slowly got up from your chair. The sound seemed to come from the basement. But you clearly remembered that Luda, and the rest of the Hewitt family, told you not to go into the basement under any circumstances. It's strange, isn't it? Of course, you always followed this strange rule, but now that you were alone at home, you were scared of what might be there. You didn't find any better options than just going down to the basement and taking a peek. You're fast, no one will notice. What can happen?

The floorboards creaked unpleasantly under your careful steps. The unpleasantly cold water has touched your ankles.

Your eyes widened in horror, and you covered your mouth in fear. There was a man sitting at the other end of the basement, although he could hardly be called such anymore. His face was disfigured, and his arm and part of his leg were missing. His whole body was covered in scarlet blood. The victim's mouth was gagged and his eyes were painfully closed. There was an old bucket lying nearby. So that's what it was... The man was chained to the wall, and there was a massive hole from a meat hook on his shoulder.

"God.." the only thing that came out of your mouth was when you slowly backed away. My mouth was dry, and an unpleasant feeling of nausea was slowly rising in my stomach. Tears welled up at the corners of her eyes.

You took one hesitant step, then another. Finally, your back hit something massive. In the blink of an eye, a huge hand was placed on your mouth, and then darkness.

Thomas's mind was racing. You've seen their secret. Are you afraid now? Of course you're afraid. The moment he found you in the basement, your body was shaking in fear and your eyes were full of horror. But it's all for the family, you have to understand. Sure, Hoyt said to kill anyone who found out about their family secret, but Thomas couldn't kill you. You were his happiness, his light in life, his beloved. Therefore, he gently picked up your unconscious body in his arms, protectively hugging it to himself. It's just a misunderstanding, isn't it? Thomas left the basement, closing the metal door behind him, and headed for his bedroom. He put you on the bed, trying to make sure that you would be comfortable. You should get some sleep, then you can understand him. It's all for the family, for you. He wanted so much to see you as his little wife, to protect you and your possible children, he wanted it so much. But now his dreams were more fragile than ever.

You woke up in a dark room. It must have been Tommy's bedroom, judging by the big bed. You slowly sat up in bed, feeling a dull ache in your head. After a couple of moments, these horrible images of a corpse in the basement popped up in your head. You instantly wanted to empty your stomach. You put your hand over your mouth, feeling hot tears on your cheeks. Your head was throbbing painfully, and nothing came out of your chest except a long-drawn-out cheekbone. You slid down the bed to the floor, pressing your back against the wall in the corner of the room. Your body was shaking in terror, and your mind was full of vile, terrifying thoughts. I wanted to scream, but it felt like your tongue had been ripped out. You covered your head with your hands, tucking your knees in. You need to get out of here, run. Away from this house, away from this city, away from these people.

Your mental reverie was interrupted by the sudden creak of the door. The dark room was slightly illuminated by warm light from the corridor, the doorway was soon blocked by a tall bulky figure. You instinctively cringed, afraid of the consequences.

Thomas's heart ached as he watched you crawl away from him in fear. As his victims. He carefully closed the door and slowly approached you. You looked like a cornered animal. Thomas didn't like that feeling. He gently grabbed your hand, pulling you onto his lap. You resisted and tried to break free, your mind was racing wildly. But he didn't stop. He took you on his lap, holding you gently against his strong chest. You struggled and cried, afraid that you would be hurt. Thomas felt like his whole world was collapsing seeing you like this. You pounded his chest with your hands, muttering some words, but he wouldn't let go, Thomas just held you closer to him, stroking your back and trying to calm you down. You were afraid of him. It was like that.. wrong.

Finally, you were exhausted, hanging limply in his arms. Your head is on his chest, and only long sobs come out of your mouth. Thomas kisses you briefly on the forehead.

"No harm.." He mutters in a rough voice. He rarely talked, but it seemed like the best option right now, "..love Y/N."

You didn't answer. Your head ached, and your mind was empty, the animal fear in your body gradually subsided, replaced by fatigue. You fell asleep in his arms. Thomas sat there with you all night, afraid that something might happen to you.

In the days that followed, he took care of you and tried in every possible way to show that he would not harm you in any way. He'd rather kill himself if he hurt you. Thomas came into the room and fed you with a spoon. At first you refused and resisted in every possible way, but gradually, because of hunger, you simply did not have the strength left. Thomas brought you something that didn't have meat in it, he knew that meat could upset you. Stewed vegetables, your pumpkin pie, some snacks. Thomas wouldn't let anyone into this room, not even his mom. He had to make sure you were going to be okay. You are his sun, his reason to live.

Over time, it seemed that you had thawed out. It wasn't like you were completely resigned to the fact that the Hewitts were murderers and cannibals. But you realized they wouldn't hurt you, Tommy wouldn't let you. He explained to you that it's for survival. In a way, you realized that this was just the only way out, and yet it was still disgusting and disgusting for you. But Thomas didn't do it because he likes it. He did it for the sake of the family, protected it and fed it. It's necessary.

After a while, you even left the room, although you no longer looked towards the basement. Gradually, everything returned to normal. You even started living at the Hewitt house, Monty made sure to bring all your stuff here. You became the second mistress of Hewitt, Tommy's wife. He finally put the ring on your finger, and you realized all his warm love for you. Luda was glad that her boy had really found his happiness. Now you were sleeping together, giving each other love. You even went down to the basement if Thomas forgot to eat. Ignoring the screams of another victim, you placed the food tray on Thomas's workbench and gently touched his shoulder. The man turned around and wrapped you in a hot kiss. You had a strange feeling when you kissed so strangely to the screams of desperate victims. But it didn't matter. At that moment, it was just you and him, your husband Tommy.

[xolivvies-cornerxo]

Foyet

A/N: Sorry this is so delayed! I got swamped with midterms and tumblr decided to delete my draft, so this is not proofread. It’s also not as long as I wanted it to be, so an extended version might be in the works, if I can motivate myself to do it. I honestly don’t like this, and I know I can do better, but it’s 1:13 and I’ve rewritten this so many times in the past few hours and this is just what I settled on.

Warnings: Guns, mentions of gunshots, blood, near death experience, injuries, Foyet, violence, few mentions of ‘Y/N’, reader having some kind of medical training (unspecified), MAJOR EPISODE BITS ALTERED, starts in a relatively awkward way? moderate child endangerment? I’m like 95% sure I spelt Halie wrong? Lmk if I missed some.

“Hotch, I think he’s headed toward your house,” Spencer’s voice rang through his phone as Aaron sped in the same direction of his family phone. He was finally on Foyet’s trail, having located him, and he was so close to finding him. So close to saving his family.

“I know. I’ve tried calling Y/N and I haven’t gotten an answer. I think she beat me there,” Aaron responds, pulling onto the street of the quaint house he shared with his wife, and his son on the designated weekends.

~Fifteen minutes earlier~

“Aaron?” Her voice rang throughout the house, noticing an unfamiliar car within the driveway. It looked like the same SUVs Aaron had driven to work, so she didn’t think twice as she turned and locked the door behind her. “Aaron, I’m home!” She called out once more, slipping her shoes off, and setting her keys down.

Her feet were nearly silent against the floor as she looked around the house, noticing something was amiss, yet she couldn’t put her hands on it. She began to creep around downstairs, when she noticed it. The bloodstain on the carpeted stairs. She reaches into her purse, grabbing the pocketknife Aaron insisted she kept on her at all times, and flicks the blade out, slowly ascending the stairs.

She follows the trail of blood, leading into her and Aaron’s shared bedroom, where she saw a foot. A gasp tore from her throat as she looked over the bed, revealing a barely breathing Haley. She lunges for Haley, applying pressure to the bullet hole inside of her chest, desperate to keep her friend alive, unaware of the looming danger behind her.

Until it was too late. By the time she realized Foyet was behind her, she already had a bullet lodged into her back, pain sprouting throughout her body. She fell limp against the ground, her vision blurring with black dots coating the corners as she felt the life begin to seep out of her like blood from the wound on her back. She wondered if this is how she died, shot to dead in her home, trying to save her best friend.

Aaron pulled into the driveway, heart sinking further as he saw his wife’s car parked in her usual spot. His suspicions were right, she had made it home before him, and now he had no clue on what could’ve happened inside the quiet walls of their home.

He unlocked the door, gun drawn, his heart pounding in his ears being the only sound he could hear as he began to scope out the home. The downstairs was clear, outside of blood trickling towards the stairs, and on the stairs, which he assumed was related to the bullet he heard being fired over the phone. He crept his way up the stairs, gun drawn as he followed the blood path to his bedroom.

Aaron could feel his heart beating wildly, like a bird desperate to be freed from its cage, as he opens the door. His stomach flips as he sees two sets of feet. On the floor. Both unconscious. His ex wife and his wife’s feet.

He moves towards them, exhaling as he finds they both have pulses, one much more faint than the other, showing Haley had been shot first, but his wife was bleeding out quicker. He froze as he saw Foyet’s feet hiding behind the window curtain, facing him.

Aaron didn’t realize he had emptied his clip into Foyet until Foyet was on the ground. Aaron didn’t realize that Foyet was wearing a bulletproof vest until Foyet lunged at him after being shot. Nor did he realize when the fight had started, until it did. He didn’t remember how he and Foyet got downstairs, nor how he got cut on his face in several different areas. But none of that mattered.

What mattered to Aaron was that, now he was ontop of Foyet, punching over and over again, each blow bloodier than the previous, each in vengeance of his wife, and his son’s mother. It’s all that mattered to Aaron even when Derek pulled him off, and medics as well as police officers flooded the house. What truly mattered, was that the man who dare try to gun down his wife and ex-wife was now dead, at his own hands.

[sametsyun]

Beauty and the Beast

Shinazugawa Genya x Iguro Obanai's sister! OC

"Beautiful... Genya-san is very beautiful... I'm almost jealous of how bright you can smile..."

Strangers to frenemies, frenemies to friends, friends to lovers

tags: gore, blood, trauma, ptsd, insecurities, sexual themes, no smut, nudity, mdni, angst, platonic angst, abuse, self harming, eating disorders, sexual harassment, no use of y/n, oc x canon.

This gon be a full fic.

NOT AN X READER! I REPEAT! NOT AN X READER!

Prologue~ Chapter 1

Prologue

My brother was special as they said. From a long line of women only being born in the family, my brother was the first boy to be born after centuries. I didn’t know how he was so special or why I never see him.

I never understood anything in this family.

The sound of small footsteps pitter-pattering against the wooden floors were quiet and unsuspecting towards the sleeping residents of the manor. Tiny turquoise eyes peeked through a slightly ajar futsuma, looking out for anyone who could be awake. The door slides open and a toddler walks in, closing door behind her before carefully descending down the stairs.

There were many things I was restricted to do, many rooms I wasn’t allowed to go in. Had I not seen a relative of mine go into one of those rooms, I wouldn’t even bat an eye on it.

It was cold and dark when she reached the bottom. The usual wooden floors she would feel beneath her tiny feet were replaced with cold stones. Her eyes see nothing but darkness, yet her ears were quite sharp. She could hear something move not far from where she stood. Her feet followed the sound.

Had I not woken up that night, I wouldn’t have seen my brother.

An overwhelming scent entered her nostrils, making her scrunch her nose in distaste. It smelled of both new and old food. The further she walked the stronger the smell grew and her nose began to twitch at the gross smell. A small sneeze left her, unknowingly startling something near her.

A small glimmer of the moon shined through an open window by the ceilings of the basement. With the small amount of moon light, the girl looks up from her sneezing attack and turned towards the source of the smell with her nose scrunched up, only drop it once she sees what else was with the smell.

A small boy curled up against the wall with the strangest eyes she’s seen. The boy looked at her confused but still quite fearful. Upon seeing a new face, the girl’s eyes lit up with interest. Crawling up to the boy’s cage, she attempted to reach for him, her tiny hand barely even passing through the gap. Her big baby eyes glimmered with strange determination and interest for the boy.

He was confused.

He was confused as to who this tiny child was how she found him. With the small amount of moonlight, he wasn’t able to see her properly until she tried pushing her face through the gap. The fat of her baby cheeks smushed against the thick wood.

It was only then he was able to see her properly. Since she was a mere baby, he thinks it’s fine to get a little closer. So, the boy shuffles a little closer, and sits in front of her. The girl’s eyes visibly widened, reaching a hand towards him. The boy slowly reaches out as well, and their fingers touch.

They both smiled for the first time.

[cupcakequeen-2005]

IF I WAS THE MAN CHAPTER FOUR: Flutters

Masterlist

WARNING: the smallest amount of flirting

You sit cross-legged on your dorm room floor, textbooks spread around you in a half-circle. The soft hum of focus music plays in the background. The room is dark except for the gentle glow of your laptop and, the flickering light of the string of fairy lights strung above your bed. Notes, highlighters, and crumpled bits of paper are scattered around you.

You sigh, pressing your hands to your head. “Okay, focus, Y/N,” you mutter under your breath, praying the words in your textbook to start to make sense.

Since you were little, you’ve felt it—that gnawing need for more. More than the life you’d been shown as a child, more than the fractured examples your family had set, and more than the ridicule you endured in school. It was that desire for something better that had driven you to distance yourself from people. Friends, family, anyone.

Your bluntness, paired with your sharp intelligence, made you a target. The bullying was relentless, cruel. It pushed you to the point where eating alone in the bathroom felt safer than facing their laughter.

Then came Choso. Freshman year of high school, a blur of awkward introductions and quiet realizations, and suddenly, there he was. Choso saw you—not the mask you wore, but you. He became family in a way your blood relatives never were. Through him, you found someone who understood, someone who got it.

And with Choso came his brothers.

Yuji, the youngest, was in your grade. You clicked instantly, his easygoing warmth which cut through your tough demeanour. You saw him more than Choso just by default, and somehow, it felt like you'd gained another brother. Sukuna, on the other hand, was...different. Older, sharper, colder. From the moment you met, it was as if the two of you had silently agreed to despise one another. At least, that’s what you both liked to pretend.

KNOCK KNOCK.

The sound pulls you from your thoughts, and before you can answer, the door bursts open.

“Y/NNNN,” Nobara exclaims dramatically, flopping face-first onto your bed like her normal dramatic self.

“I’m studying,” you reply flatly, raising an eyebrow. “What do you two want?”

“You’re always studying. We miss you,” Nobara says, her voice as exaggerated as her entrance. Yuji trails behind her, plopping down onto your bed with a nod of agreement.

“You’re here to ask me about the party, aren’t you?” you accuse, narrowing your eyes at the two of them.

“Y/N, please come,” Yuji says, dropping to his knees with a theatrical flourish.

“You need to get out, live a little—” Nobara starts, but she’s interrupted by a voice behind her.

“Y/N, just come already. You need the fun,” someone drawls.

The three of you whip around to find Maki leaning against the door frame, her long green-black hair tied back, glasses perched on her nose, and pyjamas suggesting she was dragged here.

“Maki’s right,” Yuji chimes in, pointing a finger at you. “You’re starting to look like a mole rat with how little you go out.”

“Excuse me?” you snap, grabbing a highlighter and hurling it at him. He ducks, laughing.

“Y/N, seriously,” Maki cuts in, her voice softer. “We’ll all be there. If at any point you’re uncomfortable or want to leave, we’ll go with you. No questions asked.”

You hesitate, looking between their hopeful faces. Nobara, practically bouncing with excitement. Yuji, still on his knees, his puppy-dog eyes in full force. Even Maki offers you a small, reassuring smile.

You take a deep breath. “Fine.”

Their reactions are instant.

“OMG YES!” Nobara squeals, jumping up from your bed and grabbing your hands. “AHHH, I’m so excited!”

Yuji throws his hands in the air like he’s just scored a winning goal. “Let’s goooo!”

Maki smiles softly and moves to sit beside the others on your bed. As Yuji and Nobara immediately dive into conversation about the party, their voices fill with excitement.

“You have to wear something cute, Y/N,” Nobara says, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “I’ll help you pick an outfit—no excuses!”

“UGHH,” you groan, laying down on the floor dramatically.

“Don’t fight it,” Maki teases, leaning back against the wall. “She’ll win anyway.”

“Traitor,” you shoot back, in a teasing tone.

The conversation drifts into a whirlwind of party themes, playlist ideas, and wild guesses about who might make a fool of themselves by the end of the night. You try to stay focused, but your attention keeps slipping as the chatter blurs into background noise.

Then your phone buzzes.

Glancing down, you notice the notification lighting up your screen. It’s a message from Choso.

You unlock your phone to read the message:

Your heart skips a beat at his words, though you’re quick to brush it off. It’s just Choso, after all. You’ve been close for years. There’s no reason for this sudden flutter in your chest. Right?

You shake your head, trying to shove the thought away. Still, your fingers hover over the keyboard, wanting to say more.

“Y/N?” Nobara’s voice snaps you out of your daze. She’s staring at you, her brows furrowed. “Are you even listening?”

“Yeah, totally,” you lie, locking your phone quickly and shoving it aside.

Maki raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press. Yuji and Nobara are already diving back into whatever they were talking about.

You force yourself to focus, but the faint warmth in your chest lingers.

notes and extras :3

Is a love triangle coming?!

We all know Y/n is only going for Choso

When Y/n became friends with the brothers sukuna would bash anyone who spoke bad about her. But would never admit that

Yuji dared Inumaki to eat a piece of chalk in class for 10$

Maki can read Y/n so well it's scary

Wonder what's gonna happen at the party

I PROMISE GOJO AND Y/N WILL COME FACE TO FACE SOON

a/n: I'm so sorry I haven't posted for ages life has been sooo busy. I love this series, so I will try my best not to give up. I know there hasn't been much Gojo but I'm building the foundation. If you still want to be added to the tag list lmk.

TAGS: @kuniz darlingg @n1vi @pluhhbabyy @s777athv @naviaberries @sp1tw1tch @s4ikooo1 @ctmaw @fortunatelyfurrygiver @sleepykittyenergy @kazuuhali