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goldfish-afterhours · 9 months ago

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ROB THEM BLIND - ONE

— Home // Genshin Impact Bank Robbery AU

“Welcome to Minlin Bank. How may I help you today?”

As the line shuffled forward slowly, Lumine felt her throat becoming tighter and tighter; the note stuffed in her jacket pocket growing heavier and heavier. She was sweating—partly from the thick jacket engulfing her body, its hood flopped to her eyes to obstruct her face—but also because of what she was about to do.

‘This is a robbery. I am armed—do not think about resisting or alerting anyone. Put all the money in this envelope and you will not be hurt.’

Lumine had scrawled those words on a piece of lined paper last night, ripped straight out of a notepad. Multiple discarded drafts littered her hotel room from all her attempts at obscuring her handwriting.

“Next! Good morning, sir, welcome to Minlin Bank.”

The person in front of her left for the desk, and Lumine shifted forwards, so she was now the first in line. All of a sudden, she felt very exposed, as if all eyes were on her now that she was at the front of the line. She clenched her fists. I can do this, she told herself. I have to do this.

“Next!” A cheery clerk waved her over. She looked young, even younger than Lumine, with bright eyes and black hair braided in two loop pigtails. For a moment, Lumine felt dazed. How would her actions affect this young bank teller? Would Lumine be able to sleep soundly tonight, knowing that she had threatened someone so innocent?

The young lady’s voice broke into Lumine’s thoughts. “Welcome to Minlin Bank. How can I help you today, ma’am?”

Lumine took a shaky breath. Before she could back out, she pulled her hood tighter over her head, plunged her hand into her pocket, and—

“Get on the ground! Get on the ground!” a deep voice bellowed. Gunshots sliced through the air, embedding themselves into the walls like meteors with a sickening bang! Glass shattered, and the poor clerk serving Lumine screamed.

“Last chance unless you want your head blown off! Get on the ground!” another voice shouted above the chaos of people crying and bodies falling to the floor.

Lumine felt someone tug at her clothes. “What are you doing? Hurry and get down!” a woman whispered, looking up at her with eyes wide in terror.

She crumpled the note back into her pocket and dropped down with everyone else. Most people were cowering on the floor with their hands over their heads, but Lumine was bold enough to tilt her head up slightly to catch a glimpse of what was going on.

There were four—no, five of them. All male, all wearing some sort of mask to hide their face. The man who had shouted first donned a sinister red mask, with bared teeth and horns sprouting out of its head. He was so big he made the machine gun in his hands look tiny. Red tattoos ran down his arms as he tapped the muzzle of his weapon against anyone who held their head too high. Two men leapt over the counters, bags in their hands. A loud thump and the shriek of metal against metal meant they had successfully broken into the tills, and Lumine could hear the rustling of paper as they stuffed the cash into their bags.

Curiously, there was a man standing at the front entrance of the bank. He had no visible weapons on him, and his arms were crossed. He was clearly not acting as a lookout—his back was to the front doors. Yet he made no effort to subdue or intimidate the people either. He just stood there, watching, white hood shrouding his face. He almost looked like a grim reaper dressed in white.

“Hey, girlie. You’re holding your head a lil high. Got a death wish?” a playful voice breathed down Lumine’s neck. For a moment, she contemplated turning around and punching him right in the middle of his elaborate crimson mask, but that would surely draw too much attention. Instead, she covered her arms above her head like everyone else, even pretending to tremble. But in reality, her blood was burning through her veins.

The groan of the counter and the sound of boots hitting the ground alerted Lumine that the robbers had obtained their goal. It was only a matter of minutes now.

“Okay, okay, you can all get up now,” the man in the red-horned mask said. She craned her neck up to peek from her hood, and several customers were also starting to stir. The loud bang of a gunshot, however, made everyone drop to the floor once again. “Just kidding~ Stay down and count to a thousand. Any person who moves before that gets a bullet in their tongue.”

‘One, two, three, four…’ Lumine could practically hear everyone counting under their breaths. But if she waited to one thousand with all of them, the criminals would definitely slip away, and she could not let that happen.

‘Twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight…’ At this point, the thundering of boots faded away. The only sounds audible in the bank were heavy breathing and muffled sobs.

As quietly as she could, Lumine slowly got to her feet, careful not to rustle her jacket. No one paid her any notice. Lightly, she stepped around the shaking bodies on the floor. Shards of broken glass sprayed the counter and floor. Bullet holes decorated the walls and the ceiling; surprisingly, the fish tank in the corner of the room came out unscathed. A bright red goldfish flicked its tail in the water as it changed direction, unconcerned with the violence that had just taken place.

The police had not yet arrived, but Lumine could hear their sirens in the distance. And if she could hear it, that meant the robbers would hear it soon too. She had to leave, right now.

Lumine carefully stepped through the giant hole in one of the glass entry doors. The road was deserted, all pedestrians having fled the moment the armed robbery began.

She shut her eyes. Wind whistled past her ear. She could hear the street lamps humming lowly, a cricket chirping, the soft paws of a cat leaping onto a fence, and—

Heavy boots.

Lumine’s eyes flew up and she broke into a run to the back of the building, down an alleyway, towards the direction of the sound. The footsteps were soon joined by the low rustles of paper money being jolted against a moving bag. Right before voices became audible, Lumine slowed to a walk, then tiptoeing on the cobblestone walkway.

“...talk too much. You think this is a game?” a voice snapped, his voice dripping with annoyance.

“What’s wrong with that? I might as well have some fun with it!”

Lumine pressed her back against the wall, summoning the courage to peer past the corner. Three of the five robbers were walking down the alleyway. A large bag was hoisted over the biggest man’s shoulder, while the ginger-haired man who had threatened Lumine was walking beside him, one hand in his pocket while the other twirled a gun around his finger. The third person with them was unfamiliar; she must have missed him during the chaos. He was much smaller than the other two, but he seemed to be scolding them without any fear, despite the largest man’s bicep being the size of his entire head.

“C’mon Xiao, let Itto have a little fun with it! What’s the problem?” the ginger-haired man said airly.

“The problem is he acts like a stupid oaf. Him just being there makes us more likely to get caught,” the one called Xiao retorted.

“Hey, I don’t act stupid!” Itto exclaimed indignantly. “In fact…you act stupid! Stupid!”

As they bickered with each other, Lumine took the chance to creep closer and closer behind them, darting into the next alleyway or behind corners to remain out of sight. They were talking so loudly to each other, she was sure they did not detect that someone was trailing them.

Until her foot hit a pebble. It barely made a sound as it fell back on the cobblestone paths.

But these robbers were better than she had given them credit for. Xiao immediately stopped in his tracks. “Shut up.”

“No, you shut up!”

“We’re being followed.”

Lumine held her breath, but the footsteps became louder, as if they knew exactly where she was. She waited a few moments—maybe they would dismiss it as their imagination and be back on their way—but they came insistently closer.

Okay, too close. I have to go, she thought. But before she could even move a muscle, a hand flew between her shoulder and neck, trapping her against the wall.

“Now, now, what do we have here? Someone trying to play the hero?” The elaborate red mask was now resting against the side of his head, revealing his face. This is never a good sign—it meant he had no fear of her seeing what he looked like, since dead men tell no tales. His voice was playful and smile teasing, but his blue eyes were void of anything, as if they barely registered Lumine in front of him. “Didn’t you hear the big, scary man? You want a bullet in your pretty face that badly?” He leaned closer, but she did not flinch.

“No,” Lumine responded. “I want compensation.”

Before the man could respond, she pulled out the crumpled note from her pocket, unfolding it with one hand and shoving it in his face. “I was just about to rob them when you stole my target.”

The man squinted his eyes at the note before scoffing. “So what? You want us to open our bag right now and hand you a stack?”

“Just one stack? Don’t play. I want to talk to your boss. I’ll negotiate with them.” She put the note back in her pocket.

His lips curled into a sneer. “And just why would we let you do that?”

“Because you’re going to want this back, won’t you?” Lumine spun a blue charm around her finger.

The man seemed to do a double-take. He looked down at his belt, confirming that the blue charm that was hanging from a chain on his belt loop was indeed gone. He looked back at Lumine, no sign of surprise on his face, but she could see that he was now clenching his jaw.

Lumine winced as the cold metal muzzle of the gun made contact with her cheek. He was still smiling, but any trace of amusement was gone. “Give that back, girlie,” he said smoothly, as if chiding a toddler, “and I promise you’ll still be able to see out of one eye after.”

Itto, who had been listening quietly behind him the entire time, finally broke his silence. “Hey, wha—? Didn’t Zhongles tell us not to hurt anyone if we can help it? You can’t shoot her just for that, Ajax!”

“Watch me,” Ajax responded, clicking off the safety of his gun.

The shortest one who had detected Lumine in the first place tugged at Ajax’s arm, the one holding the gun against her face. “Don’t,” he insisted. “Just bring her to him. He will decide.”

Ajax’s eyes flicked to glare at Xiao, and for a moment, Lumine thought he was going to turn the gun on him instead. But instead, the ginger-haired man sighed and lowered his arm.

He stepped away, and Lumine let out a gasp of relief, her heart threatening to leap out of her chest.

Ajax shrugged. “Alright, alright, I can’t argue with my brothers, can I?” he said. “Count yourself lucky, little lady. You just earned yourself an audience with the Guili Assembly’s head.” He shook his head at them, as if they had just convinced him not to buy an ice cream cone instead of murder. “But watch yourself.” His empty eyes flicked back to Lumine, and she had to will herself not to flinch.

“One wrong move and you’re dead.”

#my writing #rob them blind #genshin impact #genshin au #genshin headcanons #Zhongli #Thoma #Xiao #itto #Childe #Scaramouche #wanderer #genshin impact x reader

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mt07131 · 2 months ago

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book recommendation tag game!!

rules: recommend as many books as you like. please include genre and some basic information on it (either your words or a copy+paste synopsis). feel free to include cover art, a personal review, trigger warnings, and anything else! just don’t spoil the book!

tagged by @dekarios and hmmmm if anyone sees this and wants to do it, consider yourself tagged by me <3

Gideon The Ninth by Tamsyn Muir (Sci-Fi)

The Emperor of the Nine Houses has invited the necromantic heirs of each house to participate in a test to join him in immortality. Every necromancer needs a cavalier, however, and the only way Gideon Nav will earn her freedom from the Ninth House is to pick up a sword.

I want to say more about GtN SO BAD but I can’t because spoilers. This book quite literally fundamentally changed me, I think about it at least once a week. This was the book that got me back into reading more consistently so take that as you will.

A Good Girl’s Guide To Murder by Holly Jackson (True Crime)

Five years ago, Andie Bell was murdered by her boyfriend Sal Singh, and everyone knows it. At least, everyone thinks they know it. When Pippa Fitz-Amobi decides to investigate the case as part of her senior project, she begins to unravel dark secrets that will change the case- and her life- forever.

Another one of of my absolute favorite books and favorite series that I will always recommend. I really love how AGGGTM dives into the collective obsession with true crime and how it actually affects people who are involved.

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao (Sci-Fi)

Being a Chrysalis pilot in Huaxia is a boy’s dream and a girl’s death sentence. But when Wu Zetian kills the pilot responsible for her sister’s death through the Chrysalis’ mental link, she is labeled an Iron Widow and paired up with the strongest yet most controversial male pilot to tame her. She will not give up her power so easily though.

I was excited for this book and it more than exceeded my expectations. I love Zetian as a character, and the worldbuilding is excellent. I won’t lie when I say I’m foaming at the mouth for Heavenly Tyrant.

Six Of Crows by Leigh Bardugo (Fantasy)

Kaz Brekker has the chance to pull off the heist of a lifetime that will make him rich beyond anyone’s wildest dreams, but he can’t do it alone. He must gather a crew of Ketterdam’s most talented to succeed- as long as they don’t kill each other first.

The crows!!!! I love them!!!! I liked the grisha trilogy set in the same world, but I loved the crows duology SO much more. All of the characters are fantastic but Kaz and Inej will always have my heart.

We Are Watching Eliza Bright by A.E. Osworth (Thriller)

Eliza Bright is living her dream as a coder at Fancy Dog Games. When a workplace harassment incident goes unresolved, Eliza takes her story to a journalist to bring light to her situation. Unfortunately, this also makes Eliza a target for the violent collective of male video game players, who threaten her life not only online, but in real life.

I am not normally one to read straight up thrillers, but this one was disturbing yet fascinating enough that I read it all in one day. While it is a fictionalized dramatization of Gamergate, what Eliza faces can feel all too real to someone who knows how game fans can be.

Warcross by Marie Lu (Sci-Fi)

Teenage hacker Emika Chen, desperate for cash, takes a chance and hacks into the international Warcross Championships, accidentally glitching herself into the action and becoming a sensation. When Warcross’ creator offers her an official place in this year’s championship to uncover a security issue, she uncovers a sinister plot that could bring Warcross as the world knows it to its knees.

I’ve read quite a few of Marie Lu’s books, but the Warcross duology was SO GOOD. Another book with stunning worldbuilding that also doesn’t feel so far off from our current technology, I’d highly recommend to anyone who loves sci-fi.

#maeve.txt #tag game #person on tumblr has read tlt fork found in kitchen #I need to talk about the books I’ve read more this was fun!!!!!!!#I also need to get back to consistently reading I have been slacking on my goodreads challenge #me when I had to edit bc I straight up forgot genre don’t worry about it

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britesparc · 2 months ago

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Weekend Top Ten #656

Top Ten Leonard Cohen Songs

Welcome to another edition of “I didn’t really have time to write anything this week so it’s going to be a really quick one”. Which is a bit of a shame, because I like going deep when I do these music lists.

I was quite old when I got into Leonard Cohen – well, in my late twenties, I guess. I think the first time I really knew who he was was after hearing Rufus Wainwright’s cover of Hallelujah on the Shrek soundtrack; yes, I am that basic. Then, a bit later on, he became one of the artists I liked listening to and discovering more of back when I was working in an office for CITV; I’m pretty sure I never managed to get one of his songs on air the way I did with everyone from Nick Cave to Tenacious D, but he was still an ongoing presence.

The older I get, the more I like sad songs. Well, not sad, exactly; melancholy. I don’t think Cohen really wrote sad songs. He wrote about sad experiences, but he always seemed to approach it with either a sense of whimsical, dry amusement, or else to seek the goodness in the bad. A tragic breakup is grist for the mill; the joy of loving exceeds the sorrow of parting. Towards the end of his life, his music took on even more of a philosophical bent, and his album You Want it Darker is full of songs by a man accepting his fate with a sombre, but not bitter, sense of reflection. Life is full of wonder; there is heavenly in the earthy.

He was also a supreme lyricist, and I’ve always been drawn to very lyrical, poetic songs. “He was reaching for the sky just to surrender” is an absolutely fantastic line that I think of almost daily; of a different bent but equally as good, “If you want another kind of lover, I’ll wear a mask for you,” is hilarious. But possibly my favourite line of his, from Anthem, is a very simple one: “There is a crack, a crack in everything / That’s how the light gets in.”

What I’m saying is, Leonard Cohen was very good, and here are my favourite of his songs.

Hallelujah (1984): yeah, okay, basic entry but what can I say? The lyricism, the imagery, the musicality, everything about this is so top-drawer. It’s almost a ballad, almost a lullaby, and the images are both beautiful and frightening. But it’s the themes – of love and despair, of divinity and grimy, mucky carnality – that resonate the strongest. Basically, it’s a song about how getting your rocks off is better than God, and we have to respect that.

Anthem (1992): there’s a beautiful melody attached to lyrics that are epic and almost apocalyptic; a story of wars and destruction, of corruption and despair, but elegantly and optimistically arranged. And the refrain: a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in. This juxtaposition is what I love about Cohen: beauty in darkness, light at the end of the tunnel.

The Stranger Song (1967): more in the earlier, folkier Cohen vein, this is one of his songs about crappy men making things crappy for women. But again it’s the lyrics that are so fantastically artful; the ongoing imagery of games of poker, the long lines building rhythm, the use of repetition, all combines in sublime fashion. It’s a darker song than it sounds like, sadder and more threatening, but no less beautiful for it.

You Want it Darker (2016): from early Cohen to this, the last album before his death. Almost accusatory in its lyrics, it once again references poker, references scenes of horror and death, and – indeed – is pretty dark. Cohen’s vocals, now a rattle of rusted metal, speak of age, wisdom, and a great weariness. You want it darker? Fine. Here’s death.

First We Take Manhattan (1988): I did a bit of reading on the background of this song, and he originally wrote it for someone else, who recorded a very different version. But Cohen’s version is darker, trippier, his use of synth feeling both of its time and also giving the lyrics – the sinister, threatening ravings of a supervillain, or the anguished wail of the disenfranchised – a deeply dark atmosphere, like an eighties horror film.

Chelsea Hotel #2 (1974): one of Cohen’s most famous songs, set in one of New York’s most famous hotels (namechecked as recently as this year by one Taylor Alison Swift), which features – among other rockstar trappings – Cohen receiving fellatio from a famous singer (not Taylor Alison Swift). It’s got a wry sense of humour (“You told me again you preferred handsome men / But for me you’d make an exception”) but also picks at the darkness of relationships, celebrity, and culture.

Closing Time (1992): yes, there’s darkness here – there’s darkness in, like, all his songs – but this is definitely one of the funnier ones. A sly interpretation of an Irish pub folk song, it manages to be a funny depiction of a bar full of old soaks, but also – somehow – pandemonium, or limbo, or some kind of biblical halfway-house. Is it about sex, or death, or both? Who cares when it’s this much fun?

A Thousand Kisses Deep (2001): a song structured like a poem, four-line stanzas of ABAB, again with imagery of gambling (“the odds are there to beat”) and warfare (“blessed our remnant fleet”), and once more dealing with dark, romantic thoughts. It’s the way all of these elements blend, the very evocative imagery of each verse, that coalesces into a song of slightly threatening beauty.

The Future (1992): although from roughly mid-way through his career, Cohen already sings this with a distinctive rattle in his voice. It’s a brutal song, an angry cry of horror as the narrator demands terrible things, creating an overriding atmosphere of oppression. Despite this, the tune is fast-paced and almost jaunty, giving the whole thing a surreal and excitingly malevolent air.

Leaving the Table (2016): another late-era Cohen; another one explicitly associated with death; and another one filled with poker metaphors. Is it a song of regret? Acceptance? Joy? Is the narrator talking to someone here, saying goodbye; or is it a hello to an old acquaintance he’s meeting on the other side? Like so much of Cohen’s work, there’s a delightful ambiguity; an the overriding theme is once more one of shoots of joy springing from the tundra of sadness. There’s a lot of shit out there. But it’s all okay in the end.

#top ten #songs #music #leonard cohen #hallelujah #anthem #you want it darker

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adamwatchesmovies · 2 months ago

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The Crazies (2010)

Shortly after the turn of the millennium, we got a deluge of horror remakes and few - very few - of them worked. When you realize that The Crazies is actually suspenseful and well-made, it’s a shocker. It doesn't quite reach the full potential of its premise but you’re likely watching this movie at home for the price of a rental/as part of a subscription. This remake is worth a watch.

In Ogden Marsh, Iowa, a baseball game is interrupted when a local walks onto the field with a shotgun. Sheriff David Dutton is forced to gun Rory down. Curiously, the coroner discovers no traces of alcohol or other substances that might have explained his erratic behavior. Soon after, more residents of Ogden Marsh begin acting strangely - and violently. Before the Sheriff, his deputy, (Joe Anderson as Russell) and the town doctor (also David’s wife), Judy (Radha Mitchell), can determine what’s going on, the military swoops in and puts the entire town on lockdown.

The idea of the people closest to us suddenly becoming murderous has been done many times, most notably in George A. Romero’s zombie films (he also directed the original The Crazies) but this is not quite the same. The infected in this movie don’t want to chow down on your flesh. There’s something uniquely sinister about what they’re doing. Rory walks into the outfield with a gun. After he’s taken down, people just assume he was drunk. "Why else would anyone take a weapon to a public place?" The best scenes in this film by Breck Eisner follow normal people who have no idea someone close to them has gone mad. You don’t realize how many potentially dangerous things you find around the home until you see a movie like The Crazies. This movie’s monsters look like us (at least initially). It can take a while for someone to expose themselves as infected, which makes them uniquely scary. When they finally turn, they’ll tie you down and set you on fire. They’re something particularly sinister about the fact that many of the crazies parody their usual behavior, such as a group of hunters that move from hunting birds to hunting people.

In many films like this, where the military serves as the secondary antagonist, they only come in late into the film - as a twist. Not here. Sheriff David sees early on that someone is watching Ogden Marsh. Once we understand what's happening, the soldiers appear to violently triage and quarantine everyone. Will this all get covered up? You bet. If you get away from the military, you have to deal with stray crazies. It’s a good way to keep things fresh and it’s hard to tell which are the bigger threats. When we meet more people, you're never sure if they're infected or not, not until we get up close. Even when someone acts a bit strangely, you're not sure. Is it just the stress of the situation?

What prevents The Crazies from earning a higher rating is that while the military and "wolf among us" stuff is well done, scary and nerve-wracking, we’ve seen it elsewhere - often in zombie or zombie-like movies. Unfortunately, the scenes where family members whisper things like “Dad is acting weird and he has a knife” while hiding in a closet disappear almost entirely once the town gets taken over by the soldiers. I kept thinking of the scene in which Deadra Farnum (Christie Lynn Smith) walks into her barn while the harvester is running and how it was so much scarier than everything else this film had to offer. There’s also a scene with an infected pathologist that’s unsettling and tense… but it ends with a victim just left behind by the sheriff! Woops!

Criticisms aside, The Crazies is a mid-budget horror film done right. It’s unsettling and creepy but also fun in that “we’re all getting scared together” way. There’s plenty of gore, but it doesn’t feel excessive, many scenes will have you sweating and it offers some memorable kills too. I say see it. I’d encourage you to stick around for the end credits, where there’s a link to a web page that invites you to discover the “truth about what happened” (not that this film is pretending to be based on facts; it’s that "the government is trying to cover up the disaster") but the link is no longer active, so there’s no need for that. (April 25, 2024)

#The Crazies #movies #films #movie reviews #film reviews #Breck Eisner #Scott Kosar #Ray Wright #Timothy Oliphant #Radha Mitchell #Joe Anderson #Danielle Panabaker #2010 movies #2010 films #horror movies #horror films

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johnthel · 10 months ago

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The Flood Thing AU

Im writing this at 2am. SPOILERS, OBV. OKAY SO roles: Im very indecisive so i would love feedback on casting.

Mccready is Chief, but Cortana is also there but may not take the role of an existing character, since she's probably still just an AI.

Childs is Arbiter. Gary is Johnson? Or possibly Captain Keyes? I like the idea of him as Johnson better, BUT... with the end of the movie, and the big disgusting one at the end with him and nauls, i think it could work as keyes. I cant decide

I want to include Rtas for sure, and also Miranda Keyes. but after that I don't really know who else to include since I've stuck to the first 3 games and dont know any more side characters. So feel free to suggest and help me out please!

I'm thinking Rtas as Nauls just cus i like him so much, but Im really not sure it fits. I need the rest of the cast: Blair, Bennings, Norris, Palmer, Copper, Fuchs, Clark, and Windows.

My thoughts during this watch:

Chief trying to play chess with Cortana at the beginning lol

(X and Arbiter) "Chief wants the flame thrower!" "He wants the what?" "Thats what he said!" Very quietly under his breath: "Dammit"

X=unspecified character (doesnt have a role yet)

Mccready wears green i notice... very interesting...

So i mean, aliens obviously exist and have contact with earth in this au already and thats common knowledge. So i think their disbelief comes from the flood thing's powers, and maybe Where in space it originated from, and how it is obviously very sinister.

I havent thought of human and the covenant/cov rebels history yet or why this group is stationed somewhere so cold and im honestly too tired to. So whatever

Do they still dig it up out of the ice, and the humans are in disbelief that aliens made contact with them That long ago? Or did the flood thing land recently? Does some of the distrust of the humans come from thinking the aliens on their team could have something to do with this?

I think a good bit of mccready's dialogue would go to cortana instead of chief

Wait does that say Sexdozer 301

Fuuuck... ive always thought Childs is so fine...

(Chief) "Trust is a hard thing to come by these days."

I love this cus it focuses on Chief and Arbiter's tension for real... they dont trust each other and its so tense. Its great

(X and Arbiter) "What if we're wrong about him?" "Well then we're wrong."

(Chief) "Anyone messes with me and the whole place goes... Go on, burn me... Put the torch on the floor and back off. Way off."

(Arbiter and Chief) "You shall not bind me." "Then I'll have to kill you." "Then kill me."

...... i mean it, i guess you do (i'd exclude these lines tbh, i like it ending with THEN KILL ME... its just more hardcore for them to say nothing and then chief turns around and shoots a dude trying to stab him)

I think arbiter totally would cuss but he does it very under his breath and never wants anyone to hear. Lol. He learned his swear words from the humans but hes hesitant to say them in front of them

(Johnson as Gary) "I know you gentlemen have been through a lot, but when you find the time, I'd rather not spend the rest of this winter TIED TO THIS FUCKING COUCH."

When they go under the tool shed where Blair was, its covered in that disgusting flood stuff, instead of the spaceship. Yick

Also i just think its interesting Blair, as human, was the one most determined to destroy transport and keep everyone there, but then as the thing he's the one building a ship to escape.

Not sure who Nauls would be.. cus whos left at this point would be Thel, Johnson, Chief, and Cortana technically, and nauls. Maybe.. nauls could be cortana? But i was thinking she would still be an AI, cus that just feels better cus its less of a change. So nauls could be someone else. My heart says Rtas just cus i love him so much. But i dont think so. Imagining Rtas on little roller skates jamming out is sending me though

God.. imagining when the flood thing takes over both human and sangheili and cant finish morphing, would be so cool

(Johnson as Gary and Chief, but it also sounds like a convo with Cortana tbh) "Generator's gone." "Any way we can fix it?" "It's gone, Chief."

THE ENDING IS SOOOOO GOOOOD. Childs missing for the whole final act until this point. And meets up with mccready. And the tension. Their impending fate. The mistrust... ive read that childs is definitely infected by the end, but its truly never confirmed WHICH I FUCKING LOVE. Because we, as the audience, are in mccreadys place by that point. We just dont know. We cant trust him.

The drink is really interesting. Two theories ive read, childs is so willing to share the whiskey which is suspicious (but i wonder if it could be interpreted as him accepting his fate?). The other is from a filmmakers art perspective, and that those who are infected throughout the movie have a certain gleam in their eyes, however ive never personally noticed this yet. Next watch i'll look for it.

(Arbiter and Chief) "The fire has the temperature up all over. It won't last long though." "Neither will we." .... "How will we make it?" "... Maybe we shouldn't."

#My post #Halo #Au #The thing 1982

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leviiattacks · 4 years ago

Note

May I request a Levi x Reader angst fic? Just barely any fluff, mostly angst going on lol. The reader is a traitor, formaly working for Marley, but betraying them in secret and putting their loyalty on Paradis. The reader is also a shifter and married to Levi for a couple of years. That love and care however is gone once readers identity is found. He truly despises them, insults them, maybe a bit violent with them, and outright tells them that they mean nothing to him anymore and hate them to bits. Readers punishment is to hand over her titan to Erwin, and they agree instantly, broken over everything, believing its all their fault. Once Erwin inherits Readers titan, he breaks down and screams, crying, because Reader was innocent the whole time. They never betrayed Paradis. Never killed anyone, never harmed anyone. They finaly know why they betrayed Marley, the abuse being to much for them, enough to just leave them behind for Paradis. Just... loving and caring as they all saw them. But now the damage is done. They wont come back, they're dead, believing that they died, hated and despised, with no one to mourn their death. Everyone regrets everything.

author note :: i was thinking of leaving this in my drafts but i already wrote it and may as well post it. it didn’t end up going the way i hoped but yeah i hope it’s ok anon. anyways ANGST. ANGST, ANGST. as always i love feed back :-) ⟹ all of the headings with the years are just meant to mean it’s a different moment from that year so those moments don’t happen right after each other i hope that makes sense!! word count :: 7.2k warnings :: canon typical violence, death

845, i.

Everything is falling in place when it shouldn't.

Sun never makes itself known in Liberio yet here it is shining down onto the bustling streets. You half expect for it to crash down and burn into the hundreds of civilians going about their daily business yet nothing of the sort happens. It's typical sunlight and you curse yourself silently for your sinister thoughts.

Secretly the voice at the back of your mind still whispers frantically but you don't wish to hear what it has to say. Instead you choose to drown it out with the sound of Zeke's voice. Finally deciding to pay attention to what it is he's been droning on about for the past ten minutes.

"Soon, soon, soon." He sighs dreamily looking a little delirious.

"Soon?"

Your question catches him off guard, he lightly shoves you with his elbow scoffing in annoyance.

"Did you sit here to not even listen to me?" He turns to take a sip of whisky and the hearty gulp he chugs shows his mild irritation. You assume he's been rambling on about Marley's plan to infiltrate Paradis. You have to admit that the idea of destroying those demons from the inside is amazingly well thought out. However it's all he's been able to discuss for the entire week now and frankly you're getting a little exhausted of it.

"I zoned out..." Quietly placing your glass back down onto the wooden counter you sigh closing your eyes. It's too early to be drinking and you don't trust Zeke enough to slip into ignorance and leave yourself vulnerable. Men are to not be trusted, especially Eldian men. The thought of Eldians triggers your flight of fight response, you want to shrivel up into a cocoon and never come out until the world is rid of the monsters. The lowest of the low, the dirt in between the crevices of Marleyan soldier's boots. That is what Eldian's are.

It's ironic coming from you, your entire family labelled as undesirable Eldians yourself but you, you know you're different. An honorary Marleyan is what you will become. What you are. The treacherous imps who are but an ocean away are the true evil.

Eyes flicking to Zeke he's lighting a cigar. Old habits die hard and he's yet to quit this self destructive custom of his. You couldn't care less if he chooses to cut his lifespan short by ten years, it's his own choice to make. A disgusting cowardly choice but it's a choice fit for an untamed man like him.

The Island Devils are said to be the bad apples but you can't help but stare at your fellow citizens from time to time and wonder what it is they could be hiding. If a demon slipped through the cracks you wouldn't be surprised. Sly in nature, persuasive in tone, that is how devils go about their daily lives alone The hymns they drilled into you all the way through elementary school echo and rebound in your mind.

Locking your bitter thoughts away you have to push yourself to not punt Zeke in the mouth when he teasingly blows a puff of hot smoke into your face.

Fingertips grazing with his he freezes at the sudden contact giving you the perfect opportunity to slip his cigar away and take it in between your lips. You allow for it to linger there but you aren't foolish enough to inhale its contents.

"Zeke, my dear friend. We shall soon be met with the fruits of our own labour but I assure you that discussing Marley's plan constantly will be of no benefit for you nor I."

The day you and Zeke had met had been at warrior training camp. Zeke was a miserable, unmotivated oaf. Always tripping and falling behind the rest of the warrior cadets. You felt rather bad for him, if you were born as unskilled as him you don't know what you would have made of yourself. Zeke, the only child of his parents ironically only ever ended up rising through the ranks after handing them over to the Marleyan government. His father and mother had been conspiring an escape plan but were executed immediately alongside their fellow team members once Zeke had outted them. Unexpectedly he was spared, the fact he turned on his own parents showed where his loyalties were. To his surprise, he was even allowed to continue his training with the other warriors - only this time everyone kept an increased distance away from him. The warriors weren't informed of what he had actually done but everyone had a gut feeling. Everyone apart from you stuck with that feeling. You thought strategically, If he were to become an enemy in the future you knew being close would come at your advantage.

The day you and Zeke had met your mother died, his mother passed away the same day. At least that's what he had told you.

The two of you bonded over the little things, told each other stories about your life at home. Reminisced about what it was you missed.

Then it all came crashing down the day Zeke confessed. The day he told you he killed his mother and father by handing them over to Marley. Your knees buckled underneath you, crashing the floor he tried to grab at you but you thrashed around in retaliation kicking and screaming not understanding why he did what he did. Yes, they were traitors but they were his parents and if the monster had the nerve to turn on the people who gave birth to him who's to say he wouldn't do the same to you or to Marley.

Zeke doesn't know it but ever since then you take the opportunity to sneak the occasional glance at him. Every single time you narrow your eyes in malice. If there's a man in Liberio who you don't trust in the slightest it's him, he must think the feud between the two of you from childhood has been put at rest but it hasn't.

Zeke takes another swig of his alcohol. On this occasion he downs it entirely slamming the glass down with vigour.

"ONE MORE GLASS BARTENDER!"

846, i.

Another day of extensive training is about to end, your back is layered in uncomfortable layers of sweat and the same can be said for your forehead. Kneeling down in the under layer of the forest you're hidden waiting to strike. Going up against the elites is nerve-wracking but you're sure you can pull it off so long as you stay calm during this game of hunters against prey.

It's simple enough if you can conceal yourself and stay out of sight. The robust trees that surround you act as decent enough camouflage and your green cape paired with them lets you veil yourself, keeping you further into the foreground, blending into the environment.

No one will be able to catch you if they can't see you.

All of a sudden your previous thoughts are thrown away when you sense something in the atmosphere has changed, the hissing of the wind behind you isn't natural.

Turning to your side you don't bother to cover up the sound of leaves rustling and branches cracking, your priority is slipping away fast enough to hide again, a tug can be felt at your cloak and your reaction time barely covers for you, your gear fastens itself to a low enough tree branch and the descent is mind numbing. Your breakfast churns in your stomach but you ignore the uneasy feeling, leaping and diving wherever you find a small enough gap. You believe you can outrun your huntsman.

That is until you sneak a glance back and your muscles nearly tense up in pure astonishment, you've been kicked in the teeth just by the man's presence. Captain, Levi slinks behind you weaving through the gaps with increasing speed, he's gaining momentum and all the while his face stays relaxed, this isn't even his full effort.

Terrified you dart upwards and then left, a corner comes into view - Levi should assume you've turned into it and so you rashly choose to dart back down. Much to your hard luck you find that his senses are well adapted, the direction of the wind is enough for him to trace your whereabouts.

The pursuit resumes, and he stays disturbingly relentless.

Arm shooting to the right you think perhaps making it look like you're aiming to fly somewhere else again will completely catch him off guard, he can't expect for you to pull the same trick twice.

Setting your plan into motion your finger pulls at the trigger but you startle when the cable doesn't come out, it's jammed. Panic seeps into you and to make matters worse your gas is running out.

Without warning you're thrust into the body of a nearby tree, the bark scrapes against you and scratches begin to form anywhere you've made contact with the jagged surface, you want to admit defeat but the warrior inside of you denies Levi the pleasure of seeing you beg. In its place you deliver a harsh kick to his thigh, you're aware he's injured it and you're certain there are no rules to say you can't play dirty. Your boots hammer against leg hard enough for him to give out and let go of your body, but then you realize you lost this game from the very moment your grapple hooks broke, you have nowhere to hold onto.

Before you can even let out a shriek of horror Levi's shot back to you, he frantically accelerates and by a miracle humanity's strongest is able to grab a hold of you again. This time you don't dig your heels into his leg and you allow for him to clutch you by the torso.

Within a minute the two of you descend towards the forest floor and Levi throws you into the dirt furiously.

"You could have died. Being foolhardy will only lead to an early death." He barks as he directs his blade towards your neck.

"Am I dead yet?" Whispering back your gaze isn't trained on the blade but right up at him.

His nostrils flare up, his hair sticks to his forehead haphazardly and the knuckles that hold his pointed blades are white in tangled dissatisfaction.

Grabbing you by the hips he flings you over his shoulder choosing to not continue with the confrontation.

"I know what you're up to." His voice is still rugged from the pursuit and it takes you a split second to register what he's said.

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches in your throat, no way, there's no way in hell he knows. He's sharp but he's not a mind reader.

Your position means he can't read your face seeing as you're facing his back, instantly steeling your features you let out a breathy laugh.

"And what may that be?" Silently you pray he's worded himself ambiguously to catch a slip up.

"Being gutsy, you think that makes you a good soldier. It doesn't."

Relief floods you. He doesn't know.

"Soldiers need to be brave." Your retort makes him grumble.

"If you die with no meaning by being reckless what's the purpose of being a soldier?" His question has you stopping and thinking on what the correct answer is.

Unable to think of an answer you ask another question.

"Are you saying your previous comrades died without meaning?"

"No. Their deaths fueled me slay more titans."

"So if I died back there who wou-" He swiftly cuts you off showing no inclination of wanting to hear what it is you have to say.

"I'll cut your tongue off if it's stupid." He clearly isn't serious about the threat but he does mean it when he warns you to not overstep.

Despite the consequences you say what's on your mind. "I just wanted to ask who would give my life meaning if I ever died. I don't have siblings and my parents died long ago."

Silence follows and the crunch of his boots against the muddy leaves tells you he probably doesn't wish to answer your question.

"Sorry-"

"I would. I would give meaning to your life." He says it with such ease you almost want to admire the enemy but you know he's said it because he feels he has to.

"You barely know me but I hope one day you can stop thinking everyone has to rely on you." You say it with taunting understanding.

Another bout of silence follows. Only this time the two of you feel warmly comforted, he doesn't understand how you've seen through his facade but it's easy for you to spot another liar.

846, ii.

Brows drawn back you observe your surroundings attempting to mask your scrutiny. The place is running amok with uncontrollable Eldian folk. The stench of unadulterated sin makes itself known but you seem to be the only person able to smell it. Eren bumps against the table you're sat at and your face twitches a little but you say nothing. You're yet to get used to these people's lack of manners.

At least that's how you force yourself to think. To be truthful, you don't quite understand what it is these people have done wrong. Ever since you've arrived you've been nitpicking at every single minor inconvenience or possible issue. A girl stole a potato and broke it into uneven pieces to share and you attempted to twist the story in your head to make her look like an unfair, greedy voracious demon but... you found yourself finding very little to actually be angry at. These people are essentially normal in every way of the word, they aren't demons and you can't help but feel yourself slip away from everything you once knew as reality. You're finding it difficult to believe what years of Marleyan education taught you, the hymns that were once drilled into your brain permanently are but a vague memory.

You feel disgustingly under-dressed and out of place, you don't belong here not when you're meant to hate these people, not when you're meant to despise them. You should be fighting the urge to shove their heads onto pitchforks or to skin them alive and feed them to pigs. Everyone back in Marley told you to control your impulses but now you're here and you've settled down even having the opportunity to converse with these individuals, share their pain, share their loss, share their suffering, you wonder why you have no impulses to control. Have they brainwashed you? Or is it that you're the real demon in this situation?

Fingers mingling with each other on your lap you sit hopelessly alone. Interacting with the so called enemy is much harder than you expect. Worry consistently bubbles in the pit of your stomach and every night is spent tossing and turning evaluating then reevaluating who the bad guy really is. At first the task of daily interaction isn't a big deal, you find it easy enough to approach members of the team and fake interest in their lives until the original plan falls through. You do become invested in your team members lives and stories that it comes to the point where you don't have to force yourself to smile at their jokes or to sympathize with their tales of grief. You become one of them and you swear you're meant to feel like a traitor but eerily you feel like you belong.

Nevertheless you try your best to stick with what you know. You're nothing like Zeke, you're loyal, capable, faithful and trustworthy. Never will you turn your back on Marley.

Rising to excuse yourself from dinner you think you've just about made it and escaped finally able to hide away in the confines of your bedroom but your lips form into a straight uncomfortable line at the feeling of someone's hand latching at your wrist. You're halfway down the hallway just a few more steps away from your bedroom. You hope it's one of the rookies.

"Oi, come here."

Head shooting backwards your eyes land on Levi, his dark curtains fall in front of his eyes - you note that he hasn't trimmed them as he usually does. Despite his size his grip is firm and your wrist squirms around a little trying to manoeuvre out of his bruising grasp. He seems to notice he's underestimated his strength once again and loosens his hold on you. Narrowed eyes analyse your anxious form, they're grey and in this lighting almost glow appearing silver. For a brief second your mouth is left ajar by the delicate but rough manner of his face.

"Everything Okay?" He doesn't typically seem to care very much about anyone, the question activates your senses and you're on full alert but the eye contact you make with him seconds later slows down the gears in your mind, they only whir and hum in anticipation completely coming to a halt.

"Yes, yes everything is okay." You're playing around with the hem of your shirt and you silently question when you were ever this nervous around anyone. You're a Marleyan soldier for heaven's sake not an unrestrained, unsupervised child left to play in a park.

Despite your clear inability to cushion and shield yourself from your Levi's stabbing gaze you attempt to appear as nonchalant as possible.

"I'll be going I just feel a little —" At first you had thought to fake you were ill but at the feeling of a sudden strike of pain you hold onto your stomach, the ache burns into your abdomen and without permission it travels higher up towards your ribs. "A little unwell." You manage to wheeze out. Hand placed onto a nearby cement wall your thought process is hasty speeding up by the second. Have they figured you out and had you poisoned? No, you barely ate anything today.

You hunch over feeling the bile crawl up your throat, on reflex you clamp your eyes shut not wishing to anger a superior by acting insolent and disposing of your dinner in the hallway. Shaky palms reach hesitantly for your lips and you force yourself to keep it in. Levi would commit a murder if you heaved and gagged letting it all out in front of him.

You motion towards the door trying to emphasize that you can handle yourself in the privacy of your room. Tears bite at the sides of your eyes and your vision is so blurred you can only make out the faint outline of the man who was just in front of you.

"Relax. I'll clean it." Your hair is brushed away from your face securely held back and you can't hold it in any longer, the acrid storm surges through your throat, you retch at the harsh sting it leaves behind. Breathing heavy, perturbed and anxious you gasp in all the air you can get.

"I knew you looked ill." His hands hold your jaw gently, the pads of his fingers are calloused but his touch remains soft. A tissue dabs at your mouth wiping away the excess untouched sick.

Just like the sick which surged through you less than a minute ago you feel something else entirely tear into you. You can't put a finger on it but it's dangerous for you to not feel contempt.

847, i.

Your heart accepts what your mind has been ignoring for months on end when Levi looks you square in the eyes after a heart wrenching expedition. The vacant look on his face is enough for the guilt to consume you whole but he doesn't know that. He doesn't know of your sins.

The wagon of corpses reeks of death and desperation. It's rotten and the smell is sickening. Forcibly you stop yourself from feeling any more grief. The despair isn't yours to go through.

Your first ever personal loss outside of the walls and you've learnt Paradis is not home to demons. Cheeks burning in mortification you can't formulate any thoughts on your own accord, instead they continuously emerge in bursts and finally a single thought sticks out from the rest - Are you aiding in the destruction of innocent human life?

The both of you are sat on guard duty with the corpses, half of the team has been wiped out in one sweep. Your trembling hands don't seem to want to steady any time soon and you sit there with your guilty conscience strangling you slowly, your airflow is getting shallower. Shorter, quicker breaths leave you. The imaginary gash in your chest is bottomless, and your lungs push and pull in a power struggle.

Levi's coarse hands abruptly hold onto yours and the floodgates open again, he doesn't know what you've done to him, done to his soldiers, done to his people. If he knew who you really were, would things be different?

"This was out of your control."

Do you tell him?

The question sits in your mind for a while until you shake your head. He takes it the wrong way and think you're responding to him.

"This was not your fault." For the first time in months you've heard his voice crack under pressure.

"Pe- Petra she- I could have taken one for the team and died instead of her." All that remains of your dear friend is her blood soaked cloak. Her body was one of the few that had to be hauled away earlier to decrease the carriage's load.

The fabric still smells of Petra, smells of honey and chamomile and the simple soap offered at the base, but it still smells of her.

Firm hands grab your shoulders and Levi's fingers dig sorely into your flesh.

"Don't."

"But I- I didn't contribute as much as her and she has family who are alive." Hiccuping you try to bare with the fact that you'll wake up tomorrow and not see her preparing breakfast for everyone else. You know you could have propelled her out of the way just in time if you hadn't been so taken aback by the entire situation.

"You were her comrade. She made the choice to die for you."

You want to reach out, sob into his chest and yell that you regret it all, scream and tell him about the secret you've been hiding. A sorry excuse of a comrade you are to let her die on the battlefield not knowing your true identity. The tears roll down your cheeks and Levi feels his heart constrict and squeeze as he comprehends the lack of regard you have for your life. "It should have been me." Is repeated over and over again, your eyes are raw and bloodshot, the vicious wind sinks its teeth into you.

"Then die."

"If you're willing for her life to have no meaning. Die." The words he spits out are as cutting as the bitter wind. He feels cheated and you're finally able to come to your senses.

He's faired much worse but you doubt he's ever acted out the way you have in front of another person. In this never-ending void of darkness locking away the dull ache caused by deafening loss is the best choice for everyone.

Much like the night you had been sick he takes a grip of your jaw and directs your face towards his, this time he's not as gentle as before but you conclude that it's because he's drained, completely exhausted from the battle. The eyes are the windows to the soul but Levi's window panes are shattered, completely crushed by the weight of the constant burden he has to carry.

"I'm sorry." You croak out the apology. He grits his teeth because he doesn't want you to apologize but he doesn't voice out his opinion. As a substitute he presses his arms against you, the terribly raw panic is murdering you. Levi's gruff voice is a mixture of faux irritation but mutual understanding.

"Cry." He allows for your head to loll against his shoulder.

As the dark envelopes both you and him the scent of the dead only becomes more and more pungent, recalling fond memories of Petra and the others you know your heart settles on a decision before your mind does. You're a two timing back stabbing traitor for this. What you hated Zeke for you have become yourself.

Disloyal, unfaithful and fickle.

That day you place your loyalties with Paradis.

847, ii.

Levi's wiping down one of the kitchen tables, you're kneeled on the floor scrubbing vigorously. The others have already given up, panting they've left using the excuse of fetching water from a nearby well. Your back aches but you find cleaning reassuring and somewhat of a decent distraction.

"Why do you like to clean?" You're used to Levi asking you abrupt questions by now, after all the two of you have been acquainted for well over a year now. Through that year he's learnt about you and you about him. When in the midst of what looks to be humanity's final year's, twelve simple months is enough to form a bond worth a decade.

"I'm not good at a lot but I am good at cleaning."

"You know that's not true idiot." The tone of his voice indicates that your answer doesn't please him.

"But I do think I'm good at cleaning? Maybe not as good as you but I am half decent."

"Not that. You're good at much more than half the people I've ever met." He sneers, his footsteps edge towards you. "Purely being a good person is a talent these days."

You suppress a flinch because you aren't a good person at all. Neither are you that middle ground between good and bad. Rough around the edges and uneven, you're shards of glass ready to slash and hack away at him if Marley somehow lures you back.

The confession, if you could even call it that catches you by surprise and anger fills you. You almost want for him to not trust you and call out your bluff. It's a little unnatural how badly you want for him to realize the truth.

Your head turns up to stare at the man who's a few steps away from you. "Or am I just good at acting genuine?"

You don't even mean to snap at him and you don't even realize you have until you see his eyes widen and mouth part in imperceptible surprise. Biting your tongue your attention is diverted back to the wooden floor. Driving your washcloth into the crevices and dips of the floorboards you ignore Levi's leather shoes which now stand right in front of you.

"Are you questioning my judgement of character?"

Be born in Marley, That's what you had done, trained to destroy people you thought to be devilish entities, foolishly chose to grow attached to the so called enemy. Your mind lingers onto a specific thought and you're deathly afraid to be thinking it in the first place but there's no more avoiding it.

Falling deeply in love with Levi is your worst mistake to date.

"What I did. It was out of my control." you reply, voice hard.

"Not disclosing what it was?" He asks.

Your silence is his answer. Kneeling down to where you are he disarms you, the washcloth is taken out of your hands and he places it onto a table.

"You are a good person." His voice is brusque and he states it like it's a fact, something you should know. Hot tears threaten to spill over, he's stupidly naive for not rethinking that opinion of his. Lips thinned and eyes watering you don't know how to feel.

"Levi. I'm sure you'd like to think that but I am not."

"You love the members of the corps unconditionally I can see it in the way you look at them."

"Sometimes you look a little sad when you stare." The last sentence he adds in has your pulse racing. He's right, you often feel miserable thinking about how everyone would react knowing who you really are.

"I'm not interested in bad people." He sounds distant saying such warm words and it takes a moment for them to actually sink in. You don't quite believe you've heard him correctly. The dread sinks to the bottom of your stomach and the feelings you've buried at the back of your mind hit you like a tsunami. The thought of him feeling the same way for you, is agonizing.

"Stop being ridiculous." The uncertainty is killing the both of you.

"Loving you is not ridiculous, if you don't feel the same way you can say that and I'll step away. We'll be back to normal."

"No, no, no. You don't get it. You're just saying that." Your voice quivers and the intensity of this new revelation is too large for you to cope with.

"Why would, you," He begins, voice just above a whisper, "ever think that way?"

"Why would you even look twice at me?" You reply.

"Because I worry for you."

"You worry for everyone."

"I worry for you the most."

Instead of letting you respond to him this time he carries on speaking.

"We both know we feel the same."

You already knew you were in love with Levi, you didn’t need for him to tell you. You knew you were in love when you tried to memorize his facial features, you knew you were in love when his laughter was the cause of your laughter, you knew you were in love when you threw yourself in front of that abnormal for him.

That's when you begin to understand what all his signals meant. You now knew why he'd let you stare so intently, you now knew why he laughed particularly hard when it was you who had made a joke, you now knew why he scolded you and nearly broke down at the sight of your injured arm after that specific expedition.

You know it. He knows it. You both know what this will lead to.

But you still lunge onto his lap, you still press your wobbly lips against his. You still choose to surrender yourself to him and he still reacts by taking a hold of your shaky hands which lay on his chest. He envelopes them in his warm grasp. Slowly but gradually the ice thaws and dissolves. Heartbreak, anguish and suffering when one of you loses the other will be the end of your romance, you're sure of it. Hell, the both of you are in the middle of a war but your heart flames up thinking of all of the possibilities.

Perhaps it'll play out the one way you wish for it not to.

Could your ending be in betrayal?

848, i.

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded hus-"

"Cut the crap and kiss me." Levi's crude interruption isn't appreciated by Erwin but everyone knows Levi doesn't care all that much for formalities and hates being in the spotlight for too long.

Gripping him by the collar of his suit your lips are a centimetre away, he stops you tightening the hold he has on your waist. His lips gently press against your collarbone and his breath meanders towards the shell of your ear.

"Swear you won't die on me."

Gulping you look away apprehensively. You know you can't promise that.

“Oi, I’m expecting an answer.” His voice flickers slightly.

Forefinger holding your chin up you see your soon to be husband close to tears, he valiantly blinks them away. Levi has never been one to make his pain public and your heart twists in your chest as you realize just how much of a hold his feelings for you have over him.

"I can't promise that, you know it'll only hurt more." The strange bitter taste in your mouth won't let you comply with his request and by measuring his reaction you see his eyes cloud in an unidentifiable emotion, you're sure it's nothing positive.

"We may not have a happy ending Levi but we'll always have a happy middle."

Levi scoffs in derision, he has to think your attempt at being meaningful is ridiculous.

You lean into him and it's all so heart-wrenchingly familiar yet foreign. His body sags comprehending that not everything will go the way he wants it to. One of you is guaranteed to leave first.

Hands finding purchase in the cloth of his white dress shirt Levi doesn't cringe at you creasing the fabric as he usually does. He allows for you to call the shots this time, your lips brush faintly against his before you nosedive into him. No resistance is felt and he replies almost immediately. Everyone applauds as his fingertips press into the back of your skull and you find that this is all incredibly hideous. The innate disloyalty you feel, you throwing your entire life away for this man but you find yourself not caring. To hell with that miserable life crammed with sin.

Levi smiles against your mouth, you assume you're meant to magically smile back but you can't make yourself. It's uncomfortable relishing in the undeserved happiness knowing it won't last forever.

The world you live in isn't ideal nor is it forgiving.

Momentary joy is all an antagonist can hope for.

849, i.

Jean can’t take his eyes off the newly weds.

You’re cooing into your Levi’s ear gently, his cheeks flush scarlet at the feeling of your hot breath against his skin and he scolds you for having the gall to rile him up in public.

Jean sniggers finding some sort of odd delight from the interaction - he’s never seen the Captain this content and at ease.

849, ii.

You don't know why you've dragged yourself out of bed just to stare at your husband's face but you have, despite the toll life has had on him he seems sound for once. His breathing peaceful yours is anything but that. When it's dark the weight becomes heavier, your skin tingles and your throat burns aching for release.

Eyes blurring your hands shake reaching out for him but you can't find the courage to make contact. Nothing will ever warrant plaguing him even more with your existence.

The memories become increasingly bitter.

"If we make it out of this alive we'll have children and they'll look just like you."

"I want them to look like you." had been your reply.

Levi winced not seeming to like the idea.

"No, I want them to look like you. You're beautiful."

How wrong he was for thinking that.

You, beautiful? He'd stab himself ten times over if he knew just who exactly he had said those words to.

850, i.

Zeke had betrayed you after finding out who you were to Levi but you half expected that he would tell him the truth at some point regardless of that fact.

Tear stains travel through the mud and grime on your face, Levi's eyes are indifferent as he twists his wedding ring off his finger flinging it into the surrounding rubble.

Without your permission he yanks your arm forwards intending to take your matching ring away but you hold on digging your heels into the dirt beneath you.

"You disgusting bitch. Give me it."

You scream, high and awful, he continues jerking at your arm the muscle throbs crying out for him to stop but he doesn't and no one steps in to put a halt to any of it. Levi having had enough grabs at your neck ruthlessly. In any other circumstance he'd be labelled callous or cruel but everyone on the battle field shares a similar empathy for their Captain. Neither they or Levi had expected your disloyalty.

"I said give me the ring if you know what's good for you." His fingers slide around your neck, his seemingly low words cling onto the little respect he has left for you.

"No." Your defiance has his eyes hardening in and posture tensing. "I'm not handing it over."

Levi says nothing, he only holds onto your throat tighter, if he really keeps at it your windpipe will be crushed in no time. You know he's holding out on purpose, he's still giving you a chance. He expects for you to stand your ground, say you never deceived Paradis, say something, anything to make him let go of you.

"Marrying you... It just happened somehow. I know it was selfish of me." He squeezes harder. "I know it was. I'm sorry Levi." Gasping and breathless you clench and unclench your fists finding it too difficult to explain.

Your mouth opens, you want to tell him you haven't seduced him like he thinks you have, tell him you dropped that plan of yours long ago but then you falter at the last second. It's typically hard to tell when Erwin's infuriated but it's painfully obvious when you make eye contact with him over Levi's trembling shoulders. It's enough to tell you to give up. Enough to tell you that you're beyond redemption, you've ran and hid long enough.

"Hand over your titan." Levi says nothing to Erwin's proposition, the hold he has on your neck loosens but his silence is sickening. It means he agrees.

This is fate's idea of a cruel joke.

But you agree, on the basis of one condition.

"Fine but-"

Levi cuts in, all regard for you devoid from his system.

"You're in no place to be making demands." He snarls, his patience quickly running thin.

However Erwin urges you to continue speaking taking you aback.

"If it's not too much maybe we can accommodate your final wish." Erwin had always been thoughtful in nature and you thank him for even bothering to show you a sliver of benevolence.

Everyone's looking, all eyes are on you. Some are blinking away tears, others are disgusted unable to stare at you for more than a few seconds at a time. Levi falls into the latter.

Brazen with not an ounce of shame you mention the ring again. "Let me keep it." Your left hand covers your right and underneath the flesh is the last symbol left of your union with Levi.

Whispers and murmurs orbit you, none of them are kind and Levi loses it.

His reflexes are paralyzing, he's back at it clawing your neck mercilessly but you don't scream or shriek as you did previously. You take it, you let him unload his frustration.

"Levi. Let it go for the sake of humanity." Erwin says pointedly. Irritation pricks him, he wants this over and done with and your rebelliousness doesn't look as if it'll be tamed any time soon unless you're given what you want.

Levi's face is crimson, the fresh blood from the expedition still steaming. "Y/N, I'll saw your arm off if I have to." But, you know he's already given into Erwin's orders when he throws you to the ground letting you crash and wheeze for breath.

850, ii.

Levi's been appointed to guard you for your final night alive. The room feels wistful as you think back wondering if the life you lived was respectable.

"Why did you stare at me when I slept? Did you think of killing me?" Half commanding and half pleading his voice cracks. He coughs attempting to cover it up.

You jolt not expecting the interaction at all and you're not the slightest bit surprised that he had seen you all those nights staring so deeply. He'd always been a light sleeper. You turn your head up hoping he's looking at you.

He isn't.

"I wanted our children to look like you. I think you're beautiful."

It's now his turn to recoil, only he does so in repulsion remembering the familiarity of those words. They had left his own lips not too long ago.

"I'd never have children with the likes of you." He sounds tense then.

You understand. No one would want to have children with someone as hated and as despicable as you.

"I know." You whisper faintly.

850, iii.

When Erwin's eyes glaze over unable to focus on anything in particular Levi assumes it's him growing used to the titan powers. What he doesn't expect is for his Commander to bang his head against the floor unrelenting screaming your name.

Pairs of hands move to stop him but he thrusts them aside wailing. Levi stresses trying to figure out what it is you could have done in the wake of your death.

But Erwin Smith. Courageous, brave Erwin Smith, who never cracked at loss of life for the sake of humanity, who always eloquently spoke to everyone around him at all times, finds himself slumping down to his knees and weeping for you.

The warm blood from his self inflicted assault still trickles down his nose, a tremor shakes through his entire body when he thinks of breaking the news to Levi.

The edge in Erwin’s voice grows dangerous.

"We made the wrong choice."

Erwin can't word it any better than that.

But Levi understands right away, he wishes he didn’t, he wishes he was ignorant enough not to.

Hange sticks an arm out aiming for his shoulder but he stumbles away nearly falling back into the floor not wanting to be touched by anyone.

He finds that he is not human enough to cry. It’s that or he’s not human at all without your presence.

854, i.

Levi has grown old without you, lived to see months and new seasons without you by his side. Over time his eyelids have become heavier, the corners of his mouth naturally droop and he remains perpetually somber.

Sometimes you visit him in his dreams, each time you make a silly comment about how his grey eye bags make him look like he’s been punched in the face. “Levi Ackerman, I swear if you don’t sleep soon!” You cushion the blow by whispering sweet nothings, reassuring him that you still think he’s beautiful.

Occasionally you add in that you don’t blame him for the past, but those conversations only last for a few seconds at a time.

“I don’t blame you.” It always starts off with the exact same phrase.

“I should have listened to you.” Levi’s tone is stern and uncompromising .

“Lev, I was never going to tell you to spare my life. You tried to listen to me, I could tell you wanted me to deny it.”

Levi refuses to answer you, he still thinks he’s at fault.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t think of that ring. He regrets throwing it away recklessly into the rubble.

Some day he’ll return to Shiganshina to find it. The idea sounds laughable but he has to find a reason to smile as he fights for his life.

That is what Levi thinks as two set’s of jaws snap shut onto his legs, a flurry of red surrounds him. His throat constricts at the feeling of his thighs being ripped away from the rest of him.

“I tried.” He whimpers to no one in particular, eyes blank and losing meaning.

“I know Levi, I know.” The same voice from his dreams soothes him.

“Do not despair. Find me again in another world.” The biting wind adds in.

Levi’s eyelids flutter shut unable to do much else.

He’s unsure if he has the courage to face you again in another lifetime.

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minsyal · 3 years ago

Text

The Fugitive (Finding Home), Pt. 1

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

Backpacking through Eastern Europe was not a top priority on your “to do” list. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Being one to preplan everything, you were completely caught off guard when your roommate sprung the idea of the trip out of the blue. You roommate, Jezebel Haine, was your first and only roommate from college onward. All legs, she was one of the stars of the track team but was most certainly not one of the brightest shining ones. She was considerably dim-witted, fanatical, and had a booming over-the-top personality that scared every potential boyfriend who had the disservice of meeting her. There were times, though, that she was rather endearing. Her childlike sense of self and emotional drivers consistently put her at a crossroads between what everyone else was doing and what she should be doing; she was, and always will be, a follower.

After four years of becoming “the bestest of friends,” you had a hard time imagining such a hard shift either into another roommate or living alone. Plus, her parents funded most everything she did and, in turn, funded the apartment the two of you shared.

“It’s an amazing opportunity!” She insisted, waving her hands in a simple manner as she rose from the condensed cushion of the leather-clad couch. “Think about it.” Gathering your hands in hers like a 20’s actress who had just met the man of her dreams, she pulled the bundle to her chest. “We frolic through the European countryside, it’s golden hour. My skin looks absolutely gorgeous… yours too, of course. The sun is just about to set, but alas!” She let out a dramatic gasp, removing one of her hands to cover her mouth. “It’s growing dark out!”

“That’s what happens when the sun sets.” You noted, causing her to drop the act for a moment only to immediately go back into character.

“We hear the crunching of leaves and twigs all around us as if something…” she drew close and lowered her voice to a whisper, “sinister is coming. Out of no where we’re ambushed! By what, I’m not sure. Then,” her eyes became glassy as she lay a delicate hand to her forehead, “two absolute studs… and I’m talking big bulging muscles, gorgeous trendy hair, captivating eyes… really everything a simple girl could ask for… seemingly drop from the sky! We’re saved!” She throws your hands into the air as if they’d fall like confetti. Drawing both her arms in, she sways back and forth in a waltz of one. “We’d be married by the next day! Hell, maybe we’d even end up as princesses.”

Oh, how utterly wrong she was.

“I told you this was a stupid idea.” You groaned, haughtily holding your chin up while feeling your spirits low. A few miles back, on an asphalt road that quickly turned to dirt, sat the dingy red rental truck with a blown out engine and a deflating tire. With no cell service and the last town being over 100 miles back, your only choice was to walk.

“Don’t blame me!” Jezebel stopped walking, feet falling flat to the ground as she stomped her foot in a childish manner. “I,” her lip quivered as all the anger held in her body dissipated, “I just wanted to have a fun time with you.” Big tears flowed from her eyes quickly after finishing her proclamation, leaving smearing black lines down her face from the eyeliner she insisted was necessary in the Romanian countryside. God, if her parents weren’t funding this trip, you’d throw a fit for your money back.

“Jess, just,” reaching backward, you fished a rag from your backpack, “don’t cry. That’s not going to make this better.” Sniffling, she accepted the rag and wiped her eyes, further smearing black all over her face. You couldn’t help but feel a shred of sympathy for her. “Let’s just keep going. No use in wasting daylight. I really don’t want to get caught out here in the dark.”

“Where are we supposed to go, then?”

“I’m sure the next town will have some sort of inn or hotel. At the very least, they’ll have directions to the nearest city.”

After another five miles of walking, the sun was beginning to set and no gorgeous studs were waiting to save you. The blazing yellow ball inched slowly beyond the horizon. Its warming rays that had kept the snow from freezing the two of you in the day crept down below the snow peaked mountains that were nestled in the distance. Shadows began dancing between the trees, sending the forest into a theater of silent performers. The dirt road that was once large enough for two cars was now only a walking path so slim that Jezebel had to follow on your heels. Every now and again you were reeled back by the piece of rope that she had attached to your backpack that was firmly gripped in her hand. She claimed it made her feel safer.

“You think those two hunks are going to come save us now?” You joked, attempting to make light of this dark situation.

“I wish.” She huffed, frustration evading her voice as exhaustion took center stage.

Flickering light caught your eye. Hues of yellow and red mingled together in the distance, the outlines of rooftops and smoke-filled chimneys littered the ground below. “I think that’s a village.”

Another mile of downhill travel was all it took to reach the place where the once distant flickering of torches and lanterns grew into the quiet streets of a cluttered settlement. There was no clear indication of movement once you stepped foot in the village; the only evidence of any life came in the form of fresh boot prints, livestock, and the ever-blazing lanterns. Jezebel was all to happy to release your makeshift leash from her fingers, trotting mindlessly by to examine the street corners and homes. Your eyes continued wandering up the rooftops, finally landing upon the eerie looming castle situated on the mountainside above.

From around the bend, you heard Jezebel screech.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You threw caution to the wind, quickly rounding the corner to scold her like a parent would to a misbehaving child. “You don’t know if these people are violent or not. We can’t just go parading ourselves into the town center.”

“I think they’re violent.” She mustered the shaky words. Her hands covered her eyes and the majority of her face as she backed away from whatever had caused her distress.

“What?” The unpleasant squelch of snow beneath your feet caused your attention to draw downward. Dark snow surrounded your boot, an unnatural red hue stained the pure white. Gaze moving upward, your chest restricted feeling as if it had crushed inward on itself. The putrid smell finally fell upon your nostrils as you backed away from the scene. Severed animal heads hung lazily above you, their tongues flopping from their opened mouths.

“I want to go home.” Jezebel sobbed, rasping her cries into her cupped hand. Shaking her head as if to knock this moment from her brain, her short-lived façade of curiosity gave way to her immediate feeling of impending dread.

“That’s what I’m trying to do right now, Jess. Just, calm down.”

A low grumble had you standing further on edge, if that was possible at this point. The sound was clear as day and was anything but human. You weren’t even sure a human could get to an octave so low without the help of technology. Eyes darting upward once more, a chill ran from your shoulders to your toes.

Hauntingly yellowed eyes lingered upon the two of you. The beast-like figure was silhouetted by the moonlight, outlined like a ghost. It looked to be a man, but also anything but a man in the same sense. Its mouth was parted, baring old rotted teeth that looked to have dried blood caked between its gums. Its hands were bloodied as well, small cuts were painted across its forearms only hidden by the rags that clung to its chest.

Before you could process the situation, Jezebel let out another yelp. In an instant, the beast lunged down from its perch, landing with a ground shaking thud nearly five feet before you. “No!” Jezebel’s open palm collided with the space between your shoulder blades as she pushed you toward the monster. The last thing you saw was her backpack falling to the ground as she began running toward one of the homes. You landed face-first in the snow, groaning as all the air in your lungs were forced out. The beast snarled, once again showing its teeth as it hunched down to your level. This was, most certainly, not the way you envisioned dying. Things like this weren’t supposed to exist; this is myth, this isn’t real. It all felt like bad dream gone worse that you couldn’t wake from.

“Pesky creatures, aren’t they?” A new voice called out as the horrendous sound of metal crushing bone and muscle slithered through your ears. The disgusting feeling of gore instantly trickled down your hands. “Please,” the voice continued, “feel free to thank me anytime.”

A moment later, the stranger let out a scoff with the squishy suction of whatever he had used to quiet the monster. The tap of a boot on your elbow finally prompted you to uncover your eyes. “Or don’t.”

“I,” you started, opening and closing your mouth multiple times unable to find the right words, “thank you.”

“Oh.” He tiled the stiff rim of his frayed hat back, exposing a pair of circular sunglasses perched upon his nose. “Foreigners, eh?”

“Yeah, um.” You gathered yourself, finally pushing up to stand on your feet. “We got lost.”

“And ended up here, no doubt.” A stifled chuckle left his lips as he tilted his hat back in place and swung whatever he used to kill the beast over his shoulder. “If I were you, I’d get the hell out of here.”

Without another word, the stranger sauntered off with a backward wave of his hand. “Oh, and have someone clean this mess up.”

“Y/n!” Jezebel’s shrill voice called as she returned with a rather confused villager. He held a shotgun with both of his hands, Jezebel shone a flashlight in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” The villager moved forward with extreme caution after peering around you dumbfoundedly seeing the crumpled body.

“I’m fine, no thanks to her.” You spat, anger swelling in your throat causing a particular acidity to your words.

“All of you! Inside this instant.” A matronly holler came from behind Jezebel and the villager. “You know Miranda’s protection only runs so far as we grow closer to this time.”

Who is Miranda and, more importantly, who was the man who saved you?

The home you were ushered into was on the outskirts of town. It was one of the larger estates given the fact that some people seemed to live in one-room shacks. Upon entering, you were greeted with the warm glow of yellow light trickling in from what looked to be a formal living room. The sweet aromas of honeyed tea wafted through the air, drawing further in as the woman led the three of you deeper into the home. What was worse? You pondered. Being killed by that beast or potentially being murdered by the inhabitants of this home? You couldn’t decide. Thus far, the two gave no indication of malice.

“Please, sit.” The woman pulled out two of the chairs at her table, the wood scratching against the floor. “I’ll fetch the tea.”

Jezebel was so brainless. She smiled at you as if she hadn’t just offered you up as a midnight snack. Surely there was no hamster running on that squeaky track that powered her.

“What was that thing?” You turned to the man who was now seated to your right. “The monster.”

The man ignored your question, instead grabbing a piece of rounded bread from the plate at the center of table. Slathering butter on it, he looked to you. “How’d you kill it?”

“I didn’t.” You frowned, recalling the mysterious man who saved your life without even dropping his name. The villager raised his brows and kicked his foot up on the table. He was waiting for more information. “Some man came out of nowhere. He had some hammer-like weapon.”

As soon as he processed the words, his foot fell from the table and he leaned forward, uncomfortably close. You could smell the distinguishable bite of alcohol percolate from his lips. “Did he wear glasses? A hat?”

“He did.” The words slowly drifted from your mouth. “Hair to about here.” You motioned to the halfway point of your neck.

“Adelina,” the man called, presumably to the woman who guided you inside. He got up quickly, rushing to the other room leaving you and Jezebel alone.

“What the hell is going on here?” You whispered in a harsh tone, leaning forward to get closer to her. “Is this not weird at all to you?”

“I think they’re nice people.” Jezebel responded at full volume without a second of thought.

“That’s coming from someone who tried to feed their supposed best friend to a monster.”

“I was buying us time to get help.”

“Help? I almost died!”

“But you didn’t.”

“When we get back to the U.S. I never want to speak to you again.” You seethed. How could she be this bad? You knew there were a few… a considerable amount of screws missing from Jezebel, but how in God’s green earth does she justify her actions at this point? The thought of it accompanied by her dazed and empty stare only fueled the fire of anger more.

“Dear,” the woman, who you now knew was Adelina, reentered the room accompanied by the man with a tray of cups and a kettle in her hands. She set a delicate china glass in front of you, softly filling it with a reddish colored liquid that she assured you was Celestial Seasonings, a tea imported from Africa. “I hear that you’ve met Lord Heisenberg.” Placing a hand over her heart, she gave a warm smile that only sent another wave of dread through your body. There was something so alluring about this woman, yet so sinister.

“Lord, who?”

Adelina stiffened, craning her neck to the side as she plastered a forced smile upon her lips once more. You had upset her, that much was obvious. “One of the four Lords that rule here alongside our dear Mother Miranda.” She explained, pushing the cup of tea closer to your body. Jezebel had already finished her first glass. Warily, you lifted the cup in your hand and allowed the warm water to heat your frozen body. An elongated finger pointed to the framed painting that hung to the wall. “Mother Miranda protects us here.”

Mother Miranda. You could only focus on the image of the woman silhouetted by six black wings and a halo outlining her head. Her eyes were indistinguishable behind the raven-like mask that clung to her face. Adorned in a black garb, she looked to be a holy figure in this town. But like Adelina, something just wasn’t right with Miranda.

The unsettling reverb of crickets and cicadas chirping grew louder and louder with each passing hour. You counted the seconds between waves of mass chorus; so far, it was roughly thirty seconds between each bleating scream of their nightly tune. You couldn’t sleep. Despite the somewhat comforting, but entirely unsettling welcome given by Adelina and Marion, you couldn’t help but feel like a caged animal in the tiny cupboard room they had given you. A curious thought tickled the back of your mind, willing you to remain as alert as possible after an exhausting day of hiking; where had they put Jezebel? Not that you particularly cared at this point. After the attack she had done a 180, dropping all suspicion of malice in this village. She simply flushed the pictures of hanging heads and wild beasts from her memory. You sometimes envied her lackadaisical memory accompanied by a fanatical view of the world. Living blissfully ignorant, especially in a situation like this, seemed to serve her best.

After a small dinner of fish that smelled of ammonia, of which you politely picked at, Adelina insisted the two of you stay the night. “The beasts will return!” She exclaimed, holding a firm hand over the intricately carved wood of the doorframe. “Early tomorrow we can arrange for a car to pick you up from the next town over.” Hushed murmurs climbing up from the cracked floors pulled you from your thought. The voices spoke in an incomprehensible argument.

“I’d quite like to keep...” the words faded in and out.

“No, no, no. Don’t be ridiculous...”

“What if....”

The floor spoke a soft squeak from beneath your feet as you shifted to get closer to the voices. Their conversation stopped, and you waited with bated breath for it to continue.

“We have to offer someone up tomorrow.” It was Adelina.

“I know, I know.” Marion sounded frustrated. “But you know Mother Miranda prefers only the purest. How are we supposed to know if either of them are-”?

The words faded once more as the two moved from room to room. Walking on the sides of your feet, you followed. Peeking around the corner, your eyes landed on Adelina and Marion illuminated by a flickering fire. They stood close to one another, keeping their tones low.

“Clearly, we offer the frumpy one. Take a look at her. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s unexperienced.” Adelina snickered, taking a seat on the worn couch with her back to you. “She wouldn’t fit in here anyway.”

“The dumb one would get along nicely with our son.”

“I agree.”

A knock at the front door sent a shiver of adrenaline down your spine. Quickly scrambling to hide, you took in a deep breath as Marion passed by with his shotgun in hand. From the parted door, you could see the sun barely peeking over the horizon. Had it really been that long already?

“Are you sure she’s pure?” The new man stood in the doorway rushed past Marion, looking in the direction of the room they had put you in.

“I suppose we could check.” Adelina called, rising to join the others. “The both of them had that tea. They shouldn’t wake until the ceremony later today.”

“Is she in there?”

“Yes, the other one is upstairs.”

“Let’s check this one first.”

With heavy footsteps falling upon the rotting floorboards of the somewhat dilapidated home, you slunk further into the shadows of the room behind you. The glint of something metal caught your attention; a small handgun sat perfectly on a dresser as if set there intentionally for you to find. Holding your breath, you crept forward to it. You’d never shot a gun in your life, but you knew the basics... both hands, check for ammo, rack the slide, pull the trigger. At least, that’s what the movies told you.

“Out of bed so soon, are we?” The soft voice turned malevolent as Adelina appeared in the doorway of the room. “I wouldn’t use that if I were you.” She motioned to the gun that was aimed rather unskillfully for her chest.

“What the fuck is going on in this village?” You spoke with purpose now, tone wavering slightly as Marion stepped behind his wife.

“You don’t understand things around here, girl.” Adelina spat, moving aside as Marion began charging into the room. The loud blast of the gun echoed from the walls of the home followed by a harsh curse and the sound of a body crumpling to the floor. You had shot Marion in the leg; he’d live.

“No,” you started, re-racking the slide as Adelina’s other friend approached wielding a similar gun to your own. Adrenaline washed over your nervous system, your hands shook violently, but you attempted to remain composed. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. This isn’t normal! Tell me what’s going on now or,” your eyes trailed down to Marion who was attempting to control the flow of blood from his wound.

“You wouldn’t.” She laughed bitterly.

“Like hell, I wouldn’t.” You exclaimed, training the gun onto her. “Now tell me, what’s happening here.”

“You’ll understand soon enough.” Adelina’s friend’s words were the last thing you heard before your ears rang and the sting of a bullet burnt white hot in your shoulder. You weren’t sure if your gun ever went off again.

Despite being tied, bathed, dressed, and currently sitting on a freezing alter-of-sorts, you still hadn’t the slightest clue as to what was going on. A crowd of villagers surrounded from the south, all carrying on with a rumble of conversation. Adelina shot daggers at you, Marion as well, from a small, inclined hill at the edge of the crowd. The clothes you wore were your own, she had fished through your backpack claiming that it was of no use to waste a nice dress on “someone like her.” Jezebel was likely still fast asleep at their house.

A woman with the likeness of the framed photo you had seen appeared out of nowhere. So, this was the famous Mother Miranda that everyone regarded so deeply. She stood before you as the crowd’s voices hushed and their eyes became hazed with looks of admiration and devoted appreciation. Surely, she was a human, deities and gods didn’t exist in a physical form, you assured yourself.

Without a word, Miranda moved gracefully as if flowing across the ground to stand before Adelina. Taking her face between her hands, she whispered what you assumed to be praise as Adelina’s lips moved rapidly thanking Miranda. She then moved to Marion and grazed her hand against the wound on his thigh, speaking of how his steadfast devotion would quickly heal any injuries of cruelty spread by evil. When her attention finally fell back to you, she frowned. Stalking around you in circles, Miranda’s imposing figure made you want to shrivel to nothingness.

“Thank you.” She turned to the villagers as if to dismiss them. “When the time comes, I will return for another.”

The black wings you had seen in the photo sprouted from her back, shielding your sight of the villagers as they retreated to their homes. Hopeful cries and shouted blessings to Miranda echoed from the crowd as the village gate slammed. The only evidence of them once populating this empty square were flowers and offerings of fruit and grain left for the supposed goddess.

The world swiftly darkened once more.

Part 2 - Paths Meet

I promise there's more Heisenberg in the next part..

Feedback is always appreciated

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #resident evil village #resident evil heisenberg #re8 heisenberg #heisenberg imagine #lord heisenberg

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aceghosts · 2 years ago

Text

Oh, The Reckoning Begins Chapter 5

Series Summary: Five years ago, Junior Deputy Blue Murphy disappeared with Joseph Seed at the final standoff, only to be found a year later in Dutch's bunker. Now, five years later from that final standoff, Blue Murphy and Hope County have moved on with their lives. However, new sinister forces threaten Blue's life, and they will have to rely on the man who started this all to survive: Joseph Seed.

Ch. 1| Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Rating: Mature

Warnings: I need to give a serious warning for trauma and guilt in this chapter. This also heavily and explicitly references events from FC5, including mentions of murder and torture. On the safe side, I'm also going to give a warning for manipulation and toxic relationships. This should cover everything, but please let me know if I should tag for anything else.

Words: 5,351 words.

Ships: Mentions of previous Junior Deputy/Joseph Seed, but this is a Junior Deputy/Joseph Seed Fic.

Author's Note: IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!!!! Blue and Joseph are finally interacting with each other, and Blue gets to let loose on him! I'm excited for this chapter, and I really hope everyone enjoys it! A huge thank you to @sstewyhosseini for taking a look over this chapter! I really appreciate your comments/reactions, and I can't thank you enough. (Also, if you're not following Mika, you should! Seriously, she is awesome!) Lastly, I don't make listening recommendations for chapters, but if you're interested, PVRIS' Thank You (Feat. Raye) is what I've had in the background on repeat while writing this chapter.

AO3

Sharky clears his throat, disco music playing over the car stereo as Blue tears their gaze away from the window. Sitting in the front passenger seat, Blue finds Sharky focused on the road as he drives his Jeep towards the prison. When they called Special Agent Hawthorne, Blue could only think of one person they wanted beside them when they faced Joseph: Sharky Boshaw. Naturally, that also meant that Hurk joined them for the ride. Not that Blue minded. “You sure you, uh, don’t wanna turn around, Blue Jay? You don’t have to talk to Daddy Seed.”

Blue smiles warmly at him, touched by Sharky’s concern. “I have to do this, Sharky. I promised Special Agent Hawthorne that I would talk to Joseph, and I intend to keep my promise.” They know Sharky is worried for a good reason. Sharky, along with a few others, saw firsthand how much being in the Bunker messed with Blue. He spent a lot of nights at Blue’s place, making sure they were going to be alright. On the first anniversary of their freedom, Sharky spent the whole week with Blue, distracting them from the memories of the Bunker. Like Boomer, Grace, and so many others, Blue owed Sharky a debt they could never repay.

Sensing that the conversation needed a change, Hurk leans forward from the backseat, sagely glancing between Sharky and Blue. “We’re gonna be fine, y’all. This prison ain’t nuthin’; you should’ve seen some of the other prisons I’ve been in. Just follow my lead!” Blue frowns, raising an eyebrow. Well, that was concerning.

Sharky shakes his head. “Just cuz you traveled all over the world doesn’t mean you know what’s gonna happen, cuz! What if we get shanked by some dude who made a knife out of a plastic spork?!”

“You’ve been watchin too many of them scared straight reality TV prison shows, Sharky! If you gotta worry about anythin’, its prison riots…” As Hurk rambles on the dangers of prison, Blue tunes him and Sharky out, thinking of Joseph. What would Joseph’s reaction be to seeing Blue? He obviously wanted to see them, but Blue wondered why he wanted to see them. Why couldn’t Joseph just move along with his life the same way Blue was? Why did he want to drag them back to the past? “What do you think, Broba Fett?”

Blue blinks, focusing back on the conversation. “Sorry, Hurk. What was that?”

Hurk and Sharky share worried glances between each other before Hurk repeats his question. “Prison Riot or Shanking?”

“Prison Riot, obviously. I mean, haven’t you watched movies or TV? Everything goes to shit! It makes me think of those Purge movies you forced me to watch.” They really hope Joseph isn’t about to start a prison riot while they’re talking with him.

“Told ya!” Hurk punches Sharky’s shoulder playfully, continuing his ramble about prison riots. Sharky looks over at them with concern again. Blue knows they shouldn’t do this, but they can’t live with the blood on their hands. There’s too much blood on their hands already. They just had to help the FBI, and then, Joseph would be out of their life for good.

An hour later, the trio arrives at the prison, making their way through security. As they walk through the metal detectors in the visitor center, a news report plays over the radio at the guard station, “The American Government is anticipating a drought in several states, adding to an already difficult crop season.” Besides the sound of the radio, everything is quiet and calm. Too calm for Blue’s liking.

BEEP! The metal detector goes off, and Blue grins sheepishly at the Corrections Officer. They fish their lucky pocket knife out of their olive-green cargo pants, handing it to him. “Please keep that safe. It’s important to me.”

“We’ll take care of it. You can retrieve it on the way out.” Blue nods, feeling naked without their lucky pocket knife. That knife has saved their life more times than they can count; they feel defenseless without it. Eventually, they make their way through security with Sharky and Hurk, thankfully getting into no major trouble.

“Ranger Murphy.” Blue turns to find Special Agent Hawthorne approaching them. He holds out his hand for Blue to shake. “I can’t thank you enough for taking time to speak to Joseph Seed. You’re doing a great service for your country.”

“No problem,” Blue takes his hand, shaking it, “You can just call me Blue by the way. My friends, Sharky and Hurk came with me.” They release his hand, motioning to Sharky and Hurk standing behind them. Blue feels odd to be in a prison, especially when it wasn’t a Resistance stronghold, housing their boss and allies.

Special Agent Hawthorne turns to Sharky and Hurk, shaking hands with them both. “I am Special Agent Dylan Hawthorne. Thank you for accompanying Blue.”

“Charlemagne Victor Boshaw IV,” Sharky introduces himself, puffing out his chest. If he notices Sharky’s attempt at intimidation, Special Agent Hawthorne doesn’t acknowledge it.

“You can call him, Sharky,” Blue adds.

Hurk looks around the prison, taking in the sights around him. “Told you this would be a nicer prison, cuz. Most of the prisons I’ve been in smell like ass.”

Special Agent Hawthorne raises an eyebrow, deeply concerned by Hurk’s statement. “You’ve been in prison before?”

He nods. “Yeah, man, I’ve been in some real bad prisons,” Hurk shudders, haunted by what he saw, “some of the worst places I’ve ever been, and that includes bein’ at home when Daddy and Mom were gettin’ divorced.”

Special Agent Hawthorne blinks, speechless at Hurk’s revelation. “We should prepare you to talk to Joseph Seed.” He motions for the trio to follow him, turning on his heel.

The walk to see Joseph is a quiet, solemn affair. Blue shoves their hands in the pockets of their Bomber Jacket, the same one they were infamous for wearing while fighting Eden’s Gate. It was too late to turn around, right? Definitely. Or maybe, they could-. Sharky bumps their shoulder playfully, and Blue smiles at him warmly. He smiles back, a feeling of confidence rushing through Blue. They could do this; they could face Joseph.

Special Agent Hawthorne opens the door, leading the three into another room. The other FBI Agent, already in the room, stands up from his metal folding chair, placing his Styrofoam coffee cup on the metal table. He approaches the group, holding out his hand for Blue to shake. “Special Agent Jack Mitchell.”

“Jay Murphy, but you can just call me, Blue.” They take his hand, shaking it. Special Agent Mitchell is older than Hawthorne, but he radiates an easygoing confidence, partially setting Blue at ease. He’s certainly more laidback than Special Agent Hawthorne, who seems to be on alert 24/7.

As he releases Blue’s hand, Special Agent Hawthorne introduces Sharky and Hurk. “These are Blue’s friends, Sharky and Hurk, who are here with them for moral support.”

“You ready to talk to him,” Special Agent Mitchell asks, jerking his thumb back towards Joseph, “That guy is a real loose bag of screws.”

Blue shifts uncomfortably at Special Agent Mitchell’s assessment of Joseph. It always felt wrong to call Joseph crazy, almost as if it was a way to let the system off the hook for failing him. Meanwhile, Sharky and Hurk laugh in agreement as Special Agent Hawthorne glares at his fellow agent. “Mitchell, we need to be professional. We don’t want to influence their views one way or the other.”

He rolls his eyes. “Relax Hawthorne. They’ve already dealt with Seed.”

“Yeah,” Sharky confirms, “We know how crazy Daddy Seed and his siblings were.”

Special Agent Mitchell laughs as Special Agent Hawthorne pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “We should start briefing Blue on the proper protocol while talking with Mr. Seed.”

They nod. “Right. What do I need to know?”

“You’ll be talking to Mr. Seed alone.” The words are barely out of Special Agent Hawthorne’s mouth before Sharky and Hurk cut in.

“No way!”

“Nuh-uh!”

Blue knows Sharky and Hurk are just looking out for them, but they feel frustrated, knowing that they have to do this alone. “I have to go in there alone. I’m going to be fine; please trust me.”

“We do trust you-,” Sharky starts.

“But we don’t trust him,” Hurk finishes.

They smile comfortingly at Sharky and Hurk. “I know you don’t, but you can trust me. After all, they’re going to have safeguards to protect me, right?” Blue looks over at Special Agent Hawthorne, who nods.

“The Correction Officers already searched Mr. Seed before taking him into the private visitation room. He should not have anything on his person to hurt you with. Although, we do recommend not touching him.”

A shudder runs over Blue. “Definitely not touching him.”

“We are setting a time limit of 15 minutes, but if you have a good rapport with him, we may have you continue to talk to Mr. Seed past the 15 minute limit. You can also leave before those 15 minutes end if it gets too traumatic.” Special Agent Hawthorne explains.

“Feel free to sit there silently, Blue. You don’t have to actually speak to him,” Special Agent Mitchell chimes in helpfully, “After your time is up, you and your friends are free to leave.”

Special Agent Hawthorne looks at them seriously. “If Mr. Seed threatens you in any way, Mitchell and I will be there to protect you. We will be watching through the one-way window,” He points towards the large window, next to the door, “We will also be listening to your conversation. Mr. Seed will be cuffed to the table, which means he shouldn’t be able to touch you.”

Blue doesn’t think Joseph will hurt them, or at least, he won’t hurt them intentionally. Love and Punishment always went hand in hand for Joseph. “Okay,” they take a deep breath, “I’m ready to go in.”

“WAIT!” Sharky grabs their wrist tightly as Blue heads towards the solid metal door. “Please, don’t do this, Blue Jay. You don’t owe him anything.”

Blue pulls their wrist out of Sharky’s hand. “Yeah, I do have to face him, Sharky. I have to face him, put an end to this.” Somehow, they feel a sense of finality, the sense that Blue is at a crossroads, and they won’t be able to undo their choice. Hell, it kinda felt like the final battle, the showdown at the small Church where all this started.

Blue opens the door, shivering as they step into the cold, sterile room. The door closes behind them with a solid thunk, and Joseph’s head snaps up, cold blue eyes settling on Blue. Their chest tightens, Blue struggling to breathe. Long dormant emotions bubble up to the surface. Panic. Wrath. Guilt. Love. Their feelings towards Joseph were a complicated web, with too many strings that could not be untangled. A part of Blue longs to turn toward the door, bang, and scream to be let out. But they know what they’re here for. Eli. Virgil. Marshal Burke. John. Jacob. Faith. Abigail. Arthur. Phil. Repeating the names of the dead in their head over like a mantra, Blue heads towards the metallic chair, their eyes never leaving Joseph.

Prison had not been kind to Joseph Seed; Blue doubts it was kind to anyone. They feel fucking miserable in this room with its sickly pale, yellow walls, thick concrete floor, and ice-cold table. Joseph’s hair is pulled back in his usual bun, sporting more gray hairs than the last time they saw him. His beard also conveys more gray hairs, slightly shorter than the last time. Dark circles under his eyes give him the appearance of two black eyes, and there are more lines on his face, looking wearier than ever. Pulling out the chair, Blue takes a seat, shoving their hands in their jacket pockets. Joseph watches them expectantly as if he thinks Blue will talk first. No fucking way.

After what seems like an eternity, Joseph speaks, “Blue Jay-.”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Blue snaps harshly, lips pulled back in a snarl. “You don’t get to call me that. Not after the goddamn shit you put me through.”

A brief flash of hurt appears on his face, but Joseph quickly composes himself. “I see, Blue,” He pauses, waiting to see if Blue will even allow him to call them that, “I did not think you would come. For so long, you had no interest in seeing me. Even now, in front of me, I scarcely believe you are real.” Joseph lets out a disbelieving laugh, reaching for Blue. His hands are stopped by the cuffs, frowning at the hindrance.

God, what a miserable fucking place. They know Joseph wants them to talk about why they didn’t visit them, and plant doubts in their head about those just trying to help them. Blue won’t let themself be manipulated by Joseph. Instead, they focus on a safer topic. “How’s prison?”

Joseph looks disappointed but seizes the chance to speak anyway. He always did love the sound of his voice. “Prison is…,” Joseph trails off momentarily, searching for the right words, “difficult. Prison is not a place that uplifts sinners and helps them achieve redemption. It is a place meant to break them, to set them in their wicked ways. I am able to help some of the lost children within these walls, but many will not listen. I continue to write, but it is difficult to get writing supplies.” He reaches for them again, the handcuffs stopping him once more. Blue flinches, out of instinct more than fear. He looks disappointed by their reaction as if Blue should know better. “I have no intention of hurting you. I miss you, Blue. I truly do. It hurt that you never came to see me. It hurts even more to know that you only came to see me out of obligation.”

“And what obligation would that be Joseph?” They feel wrath starting to simmer under their skin, the scar on their chest itching faintly.

His blue eyes stare into Blue, looking right into their soul. Joseph had a gift for manipulating people, always seeing past the façade. Their muscles tense, screaming for Blue to run, to get the hell away. Instead, they stare back, refusing to let Joseph win. “Tell me about them.”

They raise an eyebrow. “About whom?”

“The victims. I know you, Blue. Special Agent Hawthorne would not have been able to get you to come here without putting a face to the suffering.”

Wrath swells within, clawing to break free. Swallowing their wrath, Blue glares at him. “At least, I’m trying to help people. You’re just rotting in a jail cell.” They sound bitter as they lash out at Joseph. “Besides, what would you know about why I wanna help people?”

He smiles softly, and Blue realizes they might have fucked up. It’s too late to take back those words, no matter how much they want to. “Oh, Blue. I knew it from the moment I met you, from the moment you arrested me in my Church. I knew you could not see the suffering of others and turn a blind eye. You saw the suffering of Hope County, and you knew you had to help in your own misguided way. You and I are alike in that regard; we always felt the pain of others too deeply.” Joseph pauses, his face turning pensive. “Yet, we have different ways of helping. I tried to show Hope County the light, the love of the Father’s embrace. You played their hero, Hope County’s Knight in Shining Armor. You wanted to save them, the same way you wish someone would have saved you and your mother,” He smiles at them tenderly again, “I know you are only trying to help. Please Blue, tell me about them. Let me shoulder part of that burden.”

What kind of monster could look away after seeing all the shit that Eden’s Gate put Hope County through? What did Joseph expect from them? For Blue to run? It was only after being in the Bunker with him that they realized what Joseph wanted them to do. He wanted Blue to play their part, to bring the reckoning he saw come to life. Of course, he probably didn’t see the deaths of his siblings in that plan. Fuck that. If Joseph wanted to know why Blue was here, Blue would tell him. They would tell him all the goddamn gory details. “You wanna know about them, Joseph? Fine, we can do that.”

“I do want to know about them, Blue. As I said, you do not have to bear this pain alone.”

Blue lets out a bitter laugh. “Famous last words, Joseph. Fine, let’s talk about Abigail Carter. She was an investigative journalist, trying to expose your followers. Instead, she ends up at the bottom of a fucking cave. And you wanna know the best part, Joseph?” He raises an eyebrow, sensing where they might be going. “She looked like fucking Faith,” they continue, their words sharp and biting, “Guess your followers learned a fucking thing or two. Ain’t the first time that you left a Faith at the bottom of a cave?”

“Blue.” They hear the edge to his tone, the disapproving Father tone. Too bad for Joseph he can’t do anything about it.

They charge ahead. “What? Your followers picking up the wrong message? Too bad, Joseph. You should’ve stopped that a long time ago. You know, I still feel guilt for killing Faith. Do you feel guilty about leading her like a lamb to the slaughter?”

Joseph regards them coldly, his eyes narrowed. “I see you’ve given into Wrath again. Besides, you should not talk about things that you know nothing of. I loved Faith; She was the most perfect of all my Faiths. I did not kill her. Perhaps, you should take a look at the blood on your own hands.”

“I’m perfectly fucking aware of what I’m guilty of, Joseph. I just don’t think that you understand your role in her death either.” They swallow, getting back on track. “The next person your followers killed is a kid named Phil Santiago. He was the kind of guy who always did right by the people in his life. Couldn’t stop himself from helping others. Well, he just had to pick up a pair of hitchhikers, who just happen to be your followers, and…”

They trail off, remembering the vibrant way Phil smiled in his photos, so full of life and happiness. Yet, he was the one missing, probably six feet beneath the ground. “Phil sounds like a good man. The world is a darker place for his loss,” Joseph tilts his head, still watching them carefully, “Phil and Abigail are not the only reason you are here.”

Blue nods. “The final one is a farmer named Arthur Wilson. He was killed by some of your followers in a cornfield. Can’t imagine why they would want to hurt some farmer.”

His eyes narrow, speaking softly. “Does Arthur Wilson remind you of your Grandfather, Blue? I remember you telling me in the Bunker that your Grandfather was a rancher.”

Closing their eyes, Blue thinks of their Grandpa. He died several years before Blue moved to Hope County, but he had been their hero, the kind of person Blue aspired to be. Kind, determined, and honest, Grandpa had shown them that the world wasn’t a cruel place. He showed Blue that despite the terrible shit you go through, you can always choose to be a better person, to be a kinder person. They didn’t know Arthur Wilson, but something about him reminded Blue of their Grandpa. Blue nods, admitting the truth. “Yeah. Yeah, he does.”

Joseph seizes on this, finally finding a real crack in their armor. “Do you think your Grandfather is proud of you, Blue? Do you think he would be proud of you being here with me?”

Glaring at Joseph, Blue responds, “I know Grandpa would be proud of me trying to help these people. You have the chance to help them too, Joseph. I know you care for your people. This new guy is going to get them hurt. By helping the FBI, you can avoid your followers getting hurt.”

“And for what? For my children to be arrested?”

“I don’t know. I’d rather have the people I love alive rather than dead.”

The room quiets, the two staring at each other silently. After a few moments, Joseph’s face softens, letting out a sigh. Blue feels themself relax, sliding their hands out of their jacket pockets. “I did not mean for our reunion to go this way. I only wanted to understand why you are here.”

“It’s fine.” It isn’t. It will never be fine again.

“I hope that when I get out of prison, you and I will be able to see each other again.” Blue snorts in derision; Hurk Drubman Sr. had a better chance of getting elected than Joseph did getting out of prison. “I am telling you the truth, Blue. We are family. The Voice has told me that you and I will walk through the Gates of Eden together. You know this to be true.”

Blue snaps, their wrath fully kicking in. “WE ARE NOT A FAMILY!” They holler, standing up and slamming their hands down on the metal table. Blue’s heart beats loudly in their ears, the world narrowing around them. It scares Blue how good it feels to be absolutely fucking wrathful again. Meanwhile, Joseph shrinks back in his chair, hands still chained to the table. His blue eyes are wide, absolutely fucking terrified. Blue only remembers Joseph being that scared of them once.

Joseph is on the ground before them, trembling hands raised in self-defense. Around the pair, the bliss storm swirls, nausea rising in Blue’s stomach. Blue holds their shotgun up, the butt of it pointed towards Joseph. Wrath overwhelms Blue as they stare down at Joseph, panting heavily. They want to bring down the butt of the shotgun on his face, bashing it in till Joseph’s face is nothing more than a bloody pulp. They want to tear him from limb to limb, bathing in his blood. It’s what he deserves after all the hell that he put Hope County through, for all the hell he put Blue through.

Sniveling, Joseph cries, “Please Blue! Don’t do this!” His blue eyes are wide with fear, tears streaming down his cheeks. His yellow aviators are broken, the right lens missing, and the left lens cracked. Both his eyes are already starting to turn black and blue along with other bruises forming on his face. Joseph looks frightened of Blue, absolutely fucking terrified. Somewhere, deep inside Blue, a tiny voice tells them they don’t have to kill him, that this isn’t Blue. For a second, they start to lower the shotgun, listening to the tiny voice. But the Wrath wins. It quiets the tiny voice, coursing through Blue’s veins. They raise the shotgun again, preparing to slam it down in his face.

They never do.

Joseph looks behind Blue, obviously towards the windows. Blue hopes Special Agents Hawthorne and Mitchell don’t intervene. Now that they are pissed off, Blue is itching to give Joseph a goddamn piece of their mind. Joseph’s gaze returns to them, swallowing nervously. “You and I are a family, Blue. Our time in the Bunker has shown us-.”

Blue cuts him off, fury blazing in their eyes. “FAMILY?! After everything you did to me, you still want to insist we’re family?! After what you did to my friends? After murdering people I cared about? After torturing people I loved? After torturing me? After brainwashing me? After making me think that you loved me,” Tears burn at the corner of their eyes, running down Blue’s cheeks as they draw a shaky breath, “After you trapped me in that Bunker for a year? After letting me fall in love with you? What kind of fucked up family does that to each other? Why would you do that to me, Joseph? I thought…I thought…” Blue can’t bring themself to say those words, wiping at their eyes with the cuff of their jacket sleeve.

His mouth hangs slightly open, the full weight of Blue’s words bearing down on him. “Blue, I wanted to save you like everyone else. I wanted to show you the path, the Father’s loving embrace. My feelings for you were never an act. I have always loved you; I still do. Everything I did, I did because I cared.”

They laugh bitterly, shaking their head. “No, you don’t get to say that. What you did to me didn’t fucking save me, Joseph; it fucked me up. I can’t sleep without having nightmares. Eli, Vigil, and Marshal Burke haunt me in my nightmares. Jacob, John, and Faith haunt me in my nightmares. You haunt me in my nightmares. I’m paranoid, always looking over my shoulder like I’m in a fucking warzone. I’m terrified that your followers might come back for me and finish the job. I struggle to trust people because I’m afraid that they’re going to be like you. I’m scared that Jacob’s programming will kick back in one day, and I’ll just go berserk and kill all the people I love,” Blue chokes back a sob, wiping at their eyes again, “You know, the worst part isn’t what you did to me, but it’s what you did to all the people I cared about. My friends treat me like I’m fragile, like they’re scared I’m gonna break. Some days, I wonder if they expect me to finally lose it and run back to you. My mom wonders what the hell happened to her baby, and it kills her that she can’t make this all better.” They think of their mom, remembering how she reacted to the sight of Blue’s scars.

“Blue Jay, I wanted to check-.” Their mom opens the door to their room, stopping before Blue can pull on an oversized T-shirt over their tank top. After getting out of the Bunker a few weeks ago, Blue moved back with their mom and stepdad in Colorado. It was just temporary until Blue could function again. Until Blue could pretend that Joseph didn’t haunt their every waking second.

“Sorry mom, I was just changing shirts…” They trail off, as their mom’s eyes widen, hands coming up to cover her mouth. The WRATH scar is a nasty sight, red, angry letters scrawled deep and messily into their skin. Their mom steps forward with tears in her eyes. She never looks away from the WRATH scar, guilt bright in her warm, blue eyes. “Mom, it isn’t….”

She uncovers her mouth. “Did he do that to you? That…That…” Their mom can’t say Joseph’s name. She just refers to him as that man, the words sounding like a curse.

Blue shakes their head. “No, mom. He didn’t do that to me; His brother is the one who did it.” Blue and their mom stand in silence as Blue watches tears roll down their mom’s cheeks. They fall into an old habit, shrugging off the pain and hurt like it’s nothing. “I’m okay, mom,” They lie, grabbing the t-shirt and pulling it on, “Go downstairs. I’ll join you in a few.”

Their mom frowns, her eyes finally meeting Blue’s. “Blue Jay, you don’t have to pretend-.”

“I’m okay, mom. Really!” They plaster a smile on their face. Blue can do this, pretend that they’re still normal and not fucked up. Their mom’s shoulders drop as she realizes they won’t change their mind. She nods, leaving Blue alone in the silence of their room. Blue takes a deep breath, only realizing now that they’re shaking. Grabbing their hoodie, Blue pulls it on, heading out of their room. They walk down the familiar brown carpeted hall of the house that used to belong to their Grandpa but now belonged to their mom. As Blue reaches the top of the staircase, they hear the soft sounds of sobbing. Kneeling by the top of the staircase, out of sight, Blue looks down to find their mom on the couch with their stepdad.

“Shh..Shh..It’s alright, honey,” Blue’s stepdad drawls, rubbing their mom’s back as she sobs into his chest.

“You didn’t-You didn’t see it," She cries, an echoing sound of grief, “He carved up my Blue Jay, and now, they’re trying to pretend as if nothing happened. Why did he do it to my Blue Jay?” Another keening wail rings out, and Blue stands up. They hear their mom continue to cry. “Why did he do that to my Blue Jay? Why?”

Wrath burns within them, and Blue turns, itching to give Joseph a piece of their mind. Their hands reach out, aiming to grab him by the shoulders and shake Joseph. “YOU-,” Blue snarls quietly, turning to berate Joseph. All they find is an empty hallway, no Joseph to be seen. It’s not the first time they’ve turned to say something to Joseph after emerging from the Bunker. They’re just used to seeing him there, always in the corner of their eye. He was a constant in their life, and now, he was gone.

Guilt weighs heavily on Blue’s shoulders, a tired, empty feeling washing over them. They want to run down to their mom and tell her that this wasn’t her fault, that this wasn’t anyone’s fault. Instead, they walk back to their room, closing the door silently behind them. Blue gets into their bed, burying themself beneath the blankets. Looking at their nightstand, Blue catches sight of a framed photo, one of their Grandpa. It was the first time they managed to drag him hiking, their Grandpa smiling with Blue as the pair enjoyed the nature around them. Grabbing the photo, Blue pulls it close against their chest, muffling their cries into their pillow. “I wish you here, Grandpa,” they cry quietly into their pillow, “You would know what to do; You would know how to make this right.”

Wiping their eyes, Blue stares at Joseph, determined to put him behind them once and for all. “I should hate you for all you’ve done to me, Joseph, but I can’t. You will always have a part of my heart. But I’m not going to take all the shit you throw at me under the guise of love and caring,” giving him a small, relieved smile, Blue continues, “I hope you have a good life, Joseph, just know that I want no part of it.”

The door opens behind the pair, and Blue looks over their shoulder to see Special Agent Hawthorne in the doorway. He looks concerned for Blue as he clears his throat. “The fifteen minutes are up. If you would like, you can leave now, Blue.”

They don’t look at Joseph as they turn away from the table. Heading towards the door, Blue takes a deep breath. Behind them, Joseph screams. “BLUE! DON’T WALK AWAY FROM ME!” They hear him sob, calling their name. “PLEASE COME BACK, BLUE! DON’T GO!”

Special Agent Hawthorne allows them to step through the door, closing it afterward. The closed door muffles the sounds of Joseph’s desperate screaming. Glaring at Special Agent Hawthorne, Blue states firmly, “Don’t call me if you need him to talk.”

“Hey, Blue Jay, are you-?” Sharky doesn’t finish as Blue crashes into him for a hug. They wrap their arms tightly around him, burying their face in Sharky’s sweatshirt. He smells like gasoline and smoke, familiar and comforting which is what they need. He instinctively wraps his arm around Blue, rubbing their back. Hurk joins the hug, sandwiching Blue between the two men. “It’s gonna be okay, Blue Jay.”

“You’re gonna do all right, Amigo,” Hurk echoes.

“I know,” Blue replies, a sudden weariness, and emptiness taking over them, “I just wanna get out of here.”

28 notes · View notes

fictionsmooches · 3 years ago

Text

PORCO X READER X PIECK

Plot: after a small fight with Porco, Pieck helps (y/n) get Porco jealous, while also having fun with her.

Contains: sweating, degradation, Praia, name calling ‘slut’ whore’ ect.ect., oral sex, unprotected sex, thigh riding, lesbian sex, 18+ MDNI

Word count; 3k-ish

Classes had already been out for the day, and with a long weekend around the corner, you were more than ready to get this ‘Porco issue” sorted out. Your whole life felt like it was spent between Pieck and Porco. You three had formed a bond unlike any other. You shared secrets, hopes, and protected each other on and off the battlefield.

“Look (y/n), a small fire lit under his ass wouldn’t hurt him. Besides, he’s been awfully rude to me lately. I wouldn’t mind making him a little jealous myself.” Pieck said.

All week he had been acting funny towards you. A little too funny for your comfort. It all started when you and Pieck decided to hang out without Porco. He had been taking extra lesions from Zeke as of lately, so he wouldn’t come home until late. The dorms were too quiet to be alone. Your thoughts had rang too loud to be left alone with quiet ticks of clocks to keep you company.

Pieck had no roommate since Annie left for Paradis, so you decided to have a sleepover. The two of you spent the night swapping stories of the week and laughing over nothing. It was a well needed pleasant night. However, In the morning when you arrived home you could see the hurt all over Porco’s face. He was sitting up on his bed. He faced the door. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, you knew for a fact he didn’t sleep at all last night.

“Where were you? You know you worried me to death!” he yelled standing up. His loud tone took over the whole room. It was as if nothing else existed apart from you two in this room.

“Oh I'm sorry Pock.. I don’t mean to worry you. I just got lonely waiting here for you to come back so I had a sleepover with Pieck.” you spoke softly as if to sooth him. You really didn't mean to make him worry, that was the last thing you wanted.

“Well the least you could have done was left a note.” he said brushing passed you as he walked through the still open door. His voice was cold and numb. You hated seeing this side of Porco, the cold side of him.

You could deal with his anger outbursts, you could manage the yelling or the cursing when he was upset. You could at least talk him down from that, but you can't help him when he was like this. How could you help somebody who didn't feel nothing? This was the first time he ever acted like this towards you, and it felt horrible.

Sure he yelled at Reiner and even got too snappy with Pieck every now and again- but not you. He made a habit of bragging to everyone that you’d be his wife one day and how beautiful you were whenever you weren’t around. You knew Porco was smitten for you but he never acted on it.

You waited all year for Porco to make the first move but feared he never would. Maybe it was because he wanted to live up to Marcel’s legacy. Maybe he didn’t want to ruin the friendship between you and Pieck. But it looked as though he’d never act on those feelings now.

“Pieck.. what if he never talks to me again?” you spoke as you slipped down onto Pieck’s lap. Her skirt was damp with the tears you’d been crying all day.

“I highly doubt that. You just have to show him that if he doesn’t act fast, he’ll lose you.”

You nodded and sat up. You wiped your last tear away and raised your fist.

“Ok. What’s the plan?”

Pieck slipped her arm around your waist and pulled you closer. Your thighs now touched one another as she closed in the gap between you two. She cupped her free hand over your ear, she whispered softly.

“You want me to do what?! Pieck, we aren’t little girls anymore! We can��t just ‘practice’ like we did when we were little!” you jumped slightly. She pulled you back into her grasp.

“And why not! Am I not your type?” Pieck teased.

“It’s not that” you looked away. “It’s just.. I don’t know.. Embarrassing?”

Pieck couldn’t help but giggle at your shyness. It is true that you two used to practice kissing each other when you were children. You needed to be sure that when the time came, and you married your future spouse, you’d be ready. But you were not children anymore. You couldn’t just kiss her and act like it meant nothing. After all, you had some morals left.

Sure Porco and Pieck fought about who would be the one to marry you- but you never thought anything of it. Why would you? Wasn't it natural to hold hands with your best friends? Your mind ticked and ticked until finally you could form a coherent thought. Was Pieck in love with you? And was Porco as well? How long had they been? Either way, the idea of kissing Pieck didn’t seem so far-fetched anymore.

You could hear Porcos boots clomping in the distance, he had always been so brash with his walking. You often felt bad for the poor wood floors he had walked on.

Just as the door knob turned, Pieck cupped your face and pressed her lips against yours. As soon you were connected, you could feel yourself pooling under your skirt. Pieck had begun rubbing on your thigh, and that definitely didn't help the dampness from collecting. The warmth of her mouth took over your whole body. You couldn’t help but melt into the kiss, your mouth opened slightly as Pieck shoved her tongue into yours.

You knew Porco could walk in at any moment, and the excitement of him catching you made you want to kiss Pieck even more. It felt so dirty to be like this. To have Pieck’s hand up your skirt, and to have Porco possibly see. you wouldn't dream of pulling away. It felt too good to stop now.

The moment the door actually opened, Porco just stood there- eyes wide as he watched Pieck absolutely degrade the mouth he wanted for himself. He had dreamed about parting those lips countless times. He tried to imagine if your mouth felt as good as it did in his wet dreams. His now half hard cock twitched as he watched Pieck pull away from you, a string of saliva still connecting you two.

“Good evening Pock.” she spoke with a smile as if nothing just happened.

He avoided his gaze from the two of you. “Yeah.. whatever” he said, nearly throwing his books on his desk. He took a seat as he covered his face- hoping it would make his blush less noticeable.

Pieck kissed your forehead. “I’ll see you later my sweet (y/n), i’ll be late to class.” she said walking out of your dorm with a wink. You sat breathless at what had just happened. Pieck had unlocked something so sinister in you, and you feared that simple kissing wouldn't be enough for you anymore.

As time went on you wouldnt understand how Pieck could just go along with you like nothing happened. You walked to class together as usual, ate lunch like you usually would- but in the back of your mind the only thing you could think about was Pieck. You craved her touch on your body. You longed for her hands and for her mouth, but you wanted Porco’s gaze upon you just as much.

“Uhh Earth to (y/n)?” Pieck said waving her hand in front of you. You had spaced out at the table you had been studying at. Porco sat at your left and Pieck across from you.

“I’m sorry. I just got lost in thought!” You rubbed the back of your head In embarrassment.

The stuffy room you sat in, had once been dedicated to strategizing wars and battles but the campus had now converted them into study halls for students. You weren’t sure if the weather made the room feel humid or if you had imagined it to distract yourself from forming tension between you three.

Large windows covered the walls of the room, the sunlight coming in gave you a clear view of everything in the room. The tables were old and worn, chairs wobbled ever so slightly, and the books on the shelf were slowly collecting dust as years went by.

“Is it hot in here?” You ask aloud, fanning yourself with your hand.

“I’m sure it is, and these uniforms don’t help out any.” Pieck smiled was she pulled her book away from her face.

Porco slid his hand on your thigh from under the table, he snickered as he turned the page of his book with his other hand.

You gulped quietly.

“Yeah I’m getting tired of all these layers, I wish I could peel off a few, don’t you Pieck?” Porco said as his hand gilded under your skirt, calloused hands rubbed small circles on your inner thighs. You were being too obvious, you had always been too obvious.

Pieck caught on quickly to the soft movements Porco made under the table and your breath heaving. Her eyes made their way to your warm cheeks with a smirk.

“I understand completely, Porco.” Pieck looked directly in your eyes “It’s almost like I could undress entirely right now.” she began fiddling with the top buttons of her shirt.

You could feel it happening again. The wetness starting to build between your legs was unbearable.

You were practically gasping for air as Porco’s hand slowly started making its way closer and closer to your clothed cunt. Your clit ached with the thought of his touch. All sense of shame was gone at this point. Pieck’s shirt was half way opened at this point. The bits of her lace bra were exposed more and more with every bottom she slowly undid.

You couldn’t tell if your arousal came more from Piecks undressing or from Porcos touch, but at this point it didn't matter, you only knew you needed more. You wished to be laid against Pieck’s chest as Porco bent you over the wooden table, just imagining it made you bucked your hips in desperation for more friction. Porco slowly placed the pad of his middle and ring finger against your clit.

He withdrew his hand entirely as you let out a soft moan.

“It’s almost time for dinner, we gotta get going if we want to beat the crowd.” Porco said, looking at the clock on the wall.

“Right! Best if we leave now.” Pieck said with a devilish smile as she began buttoning up her shirt.

The two left you there panting for air, and longing for hands all over your body. The light of golden hour stained the room with warm hues. Your mind raced with what had just happened, and why you were left hot and bothered. Your legs spread open on the chair you had been sitting it, a small puddle laid under you.

The next day You woke to an empty dorm. Porco had been long gone at training. You knew you would have most of the day to yourself but today your mind raced with thought of Pieck and Porco. At times you shifted your weight to distract yourself from the overwhelming thoughts you craved.

It wasn’t long before a knock at the door sent a shiver up your spine that jolted you to sit up.

“(Y/N)?” Pieck called as she let herself in. “I assume Porcos is training?”

You nodded.

“Ooh so you’re all alone?” Pieck’s tone sounded sultry like she was alluding to something. You felt the heat rising in your face.

She made her way over to your bed. Her foot steps echoed in the room with every step she took. She took a seat on your bed. And leaned over to your ear.

“Have you been thinking of me?”

You avoided looking at her. “Maybe” you answered

“Or have you been thinking of Porco?” She asks nibbling at your ear lobe. Your breath couldn’t help but deepen.

“Maybe” you answer again

Pieck pulled away and repositioned herself. She was now sitting with her back fully against the wall, her legs laid out over the length of the bed.

“Come here (y/n). I want you to show me the way you want to grind on Porcos lap” she lifted her skirt to expose her thighs. She looked so soft from where you sat.

You don’t think twice about straddling her thigh. Your clothed cunt made contact with her soft skin sending a shiver down your spine. Piecks hand found their place on your ass with a squeeze.

“Such a desperate little whore you’ve become. You get one kiss from me and a half assed teasing from Porco, and you’re so eager to do as I say?” She squeezed your ass again only this time more rougher.

You could only moan in response.

Pieck had begun dragging you back and forth on her thigh, pleasure rippled through your body.

“Unbutton your shirt for me”

You hesitated. “What if Porco comes back early?” You whined

“Don’t act like you don’t want him to see you like this. Now unbutton your shirt”

She lifted her leg to make more friction between you and her thigh.

You did as you were told and undid every button to the best of your ability given the circumstances.

“No bra? You really are a whore (y/n)!”

You moaned at her words, your pussy was leaking all over her thigh as you rode her.

Pieck placed your nipple in her mouth and began to suck.

“Fuck-!” You say throwing your head back

She slapped your ass making you moan louder.

Her mouth felt amazing wrapped around the sensitive bud, sending shockwaves through your entire body.

She looked up at you through her eyelashes. She looked as though she was smiling as she sucked on your nipple, she knew what she was doing.

The knot in your stomach had started to tighten.

“Pieck! You’re going to make me cum!”

She pulled away. Without saying anything, she pulled your panties to the side, giving your cunt direct contact with her.

“Cum for me then” she said looking in your eyes.

Your hips moved at a rapid pace as you released on her thigh with a scream.

You were so busy with Pieck that you didn’t even notice Porcos boots clomping down the hallway. By the time you noticed he was already opening the door.

He stepped into the most unexpected but beautiful sight. You say still straddling Piecks thigh, gasping with your tits out. Your cum and sweat covered your body and Piecked thigh, your skirt hiked up over your ass and piecks hands holding on the back of your thighs.

Pieck peered her head to the side “hi Pock!”

You couldn’t help but feel so embarrassed and exposed.

Porcos cock twitched with excitement.

“So this is what you do while I’m off working my ass off?” He says while slicking his hair back more.

You were speechless. When you decided to speak all you could manage to say was “I’m sorry- I couldn’t help myself! I just-“

“Just what? Decided to act like a slut and think I wouldn’t find out?” Porco says.

Your clit jumped with excitement.

Pieck shifted her weight so you lay elbows to the bed with your ass in the air. Pieck guided her hands to your panties and slid them off of you. She spread your ass cheeks and pussy lips for Porcos full view.

“Look Porco, she’s just begging to be filled” Pieck smiled up at you.

You could hear Porco’s zipper being undone behind you.

“She sure is. But I want to hear that from her” he grinned, stroking his cock. The tip was wet with precum already. He stroked as your hole fluttered with excitement.

“Please Porco! Please, I need it!” You said.

“Tell me princess, what do you need?”

Pieck reached her hand underneath to rub your clit.

You gasp nearly being able to talk, “I need you to fuck me Porco! Please fuck me!” You choke out.

“Good girl” he said as he slowly pushed the tip of his hard cock inside. “Mmm.. so fucking wet already” he shoved the enteier length inside you.

You moaned against piecks mouth as she kissed you. Her tongue once again shoving its way into your mouth.

While Porco took his time fucking your tight hole, you slid lower to make contact with Pieck’s lower half. She giggled at the sight of you being so eager to please her. “Here, ill help you.” She said lowering her panties.

You wasted no time lapping up every once of Piecks oozing pussy. She collapsed into the this matress as you attacked her clit.

Piecks moaning caught the attention of Porco. “L-Like what you see Pock? Her mouth feels amazing on my pussy.” Pieck said, smirking.

“I always knew (y/n) would be the perfect little slut.” Porco said speeding up his thrust into your sloppy tight cunt. You moaned against Piecks clit, squeezing down on Porco’s cock in response to his degrading words.

Slowly you added two fingers into Piecks slit. “Better do a good job (y/n), or I wont let you cum” Porco said slowing his pace. You wasted no time proving at her g-spot. Pieck moaned in delight.

“Good girl.” Pieck said in between moans.

You couldn’t go on much long like this. You needed release and you needed it bad. Porco could tell you where close by the way you began clamping down on his cock.

Pieck was the first to cum as she held a fist full of your hair “(y/n)! You’re gunna make me cum” she exclaimed. She lay breathless on the bed for a moment as Porco kept thrusting into you.

Pieck seized the opportunity to reach under and rub your clit. Pieck’s soft fingertips where enough to send you over the edge. “Porco! I’m coming!” You screamed.

“I’m close (y/n).. where do you want me to finish?” He choked

“Don’t be shy now (y/n) Answer him” Pieck said.

“Inside!” You yelled feeling over stimulated.

“Fuck!” Porco said as he raised inside of you, your pussy drank up every drop of his cum.

You three laid squished against one another, sweat and cum covering your bodies

#porco x reader #aot smut #Pieck x reader #porco x reader smut #Pieck x reader smut #x reader #jean x reader #erwin smith x reader #reiner x reader #attack on titan #smut #x reader smut #attack on titan smut

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hlizr50 · 3 years ago

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Gwynriel Week Day 2 - Favorite Headcanon

Bow or Bleed

Read on AO3

-Gwyn-

Gwyn examined herself in the mirror, turning her hips and looking over her shoulder. She was technically covered, but also decidedly not, navy chiffon so dark it was nearly black waterfalled down her legs, the milky skin of her leg exposed by the hip-high opening. The top of the gown had long sleeves and a deep neckline past her breastbone, but it was also sheer – strategically placed beading and applique crept up her stomach and over her breasts. It was certainly the most scandalous thing she’d ever worn.

Azriel had warned her before the meeting with the High Lord, nearly three weeks before. Times were peaceful – something they were all thankful for – but Rhysand wanted to remind the denizens of the Hewn City of the Night Court’s might, introducing the new division of their defenses. Therefore, the three female leaders of the Valkyries were requested. Her mate had kept her hand firmly gripped in his for the duration of the discussion, and that silent support was just one of the many reasons she loved him. So was his deference to her decision. That was something that had been a little more difficult to achieve, the shadowsinger being as protective as he was, particularly where Gwyn was concerned.

They had discussed in depth what she would find in the Court of Nightmares and the expectations that came along with being in attendance in a position of power. And while, in the three years they had been together, they had explored any number of intimate situations and dynamics in the comfort of their private home, it was Azriel who had suggested that Gwyn be regarded as the dominant one of the two.

The inhabitants of the Hewn City know that I am to be feared. And I want them to see the woman who has tamed the infamous spymaster and cower. Not only from a perspective of your safety, but to be perfectly frank it would be incredibly arousing.

She had laughed at that.

And so Azriel and Gwyn had painstakingly discussed every detail, the two of them valuing preparedness and knowledge above all else. Where would they be expected to stand? How were they expected to interact with the rest of the inner circle and the Valkyries? He came with her to dress fittings, discussing how the fabric would move and working with the Valkyrie and the seamstress to ensure she looked tempting enough to draw attention, but covered enough that she wouldn’t be constantly pulling and tugging. They had even come home with a replica of the skirt so they could train together, for the unfortunate possibility that violence might become a necessity.

So here she was, with her chosen sisters, examining herself one last time before their entrance into the Court of Nightmares. When she looked up she found Nesta at her shoulder.

“Ready, Gwyn?” The redhead could see the faint glimmer of concern in her friend’s eyes.

A reassuring grin crinkled the freckles dotting the former priestess’ nose and the corners of her eyes. She trailed her fingers over the hilt of the dark blade sheathed at her thigh, drawing strength from its weight and the lingering power from the hands that wielded it. Gwyn nodded, the copper waterfall of her high ponytail brushing past her ears and cheeks.

“Let’s give them a show,” Emerie quipped with a smirk.

Gwyn regarded the two females that had been at her side, constant support and friendship and love over the past four years. Nesta was a queen in every sense, beautiful and dangerous, with a neckline that dipped even lower than her own. Her gown fit tight against her, black velvet rich and luxurious. She wore her weapon for everyone to see, the sword Ataraxia hanging from the black leather riding her hips. Her leg was also revealed by a near-indecent slit in the midnight cloth, the tightness of the dress pulling the ends apart and baring it for all to see.

And then there was Emerie, who had opted for pants, tailored just right to show off the strength in her legs. Black silk fell loosely from her honey brown shoulders creating lovely drapes over her front and baring her smooth muscled arms. The back of the garment only met at the small of her back, letting all appreciate the ripples and cords of muscle and the incredible wings that marked her as Illyrian.

Emerie smiled wryly, ready to intimidate, but it was Nesta who pushed open the wooden doors with as much force as she could muster. Gwyn was inwardly satisfied at the sound that cut through the cavern. She lifted her chin and fixed her gaze forward toward the raised dais, where the High Lord and Lady sat enthroned in dark power. She would not turn her gaze toward the shadowsinger as they strode in, footfalls synchronized as if they marched into battle. She kept her head lifted, near-arrogant smirk on her wine-painted lips.

But, Mother, could she feelhim. The flicker of power, the gold thread between them taut with heat and tightly coiled desire. Gwyn didn’t dare a glance, but she could feel the burn of his hazel gaze – likely now closer to molten gold – roaming over her.

The three Valkyries stopped at the foot of the dais, Nesta in front with Gwyn and Emerie at her shoulders. When they each fell to one knee before their High Lord and Lady, the copper-haired warrior could feel the cool, moist air prickling the skin of her now-exposed thigh. But she didn’t feel exposed, even with so much less of her covered than she was accustomed to. She didn’t feel weak, even as she bowed in the midst of this infamous court. She was a wholly different person from the quaking priestess that had been rescued from Sangravah, and it was this court that had helped build her up. She was a warrior, a Valkyrie, one of eight Carynthians to ever exist, and now she was a general. And through all that she had become a sister, friend, lover, and mate, and it was those bonds that truly gave her strength.

They rose and turned to face the court, and Gwyn did her best to observe nonchalantly. So many leering stares, expressions of disgust – so many fragile males opposed to the concept of powerful women.

“The Valkyries were legendary in the Great War, and we are pleased that these three females have resurrected their practice and built new ranks.” Rhysand’s voice was rich and dark, like the velvet that clung to Nesta’s skin. “As their skills have improved and their ranks have deepened, the Valkyries have been inducted as an official division of the Night Court defense. Even in times of peace we all know that it is imperative to remain dedicated and prepared. These three females join the ranks of my Inner Circle as generals, and they will be respected as such.” There was a pregnant pause after his statement, the court regarding the three of them, sizing them up. “Any word or action against them will be counted as a word or action against myself or the High Lady. And while all of the denizens of the Hewn City understand how I manage those slights, let them rest assured that these women will exact their own justice.” After one more glower over the crowd the females split apart, turning toward their respective mates.

That’s when she finally laid her eyes on the Spymaster of the Night Court, clothed in black leather and swathed in shadows. The angles and planes of his face, in this dark place, made him impossibly more beautiful. He was an imposing creature when he needed to be, and in the Court of Nightmares he would only be seen as this man of malice – an angel of death.

With near-glowing eyes fixed on her and her alone.

-Azriel-

This plan could have been a grave mistake.

Not because Gwyn wasn’t absolutely breathtaking and fearless, and not because he didn’t believe that any male would think twice before approaching her with the shadowsinger apparently on her leash.

No, this plan was very potentially a mistake because Azriel wasn’t sure he would be able to keep himself from swathing them in shadows and ravishing her in the middle of the damned great hall as soon as she was within arm’s reach.

He’d known what the dress would look like on her tall frame – he had accompanied her to consultations and fittings, ensuring that his mate would feel comfortable and safe during this foray into the sinister underbelly of the Night Court. The inspiration for Amarantha’s domain not-so-long ago.

To say that the idea of Gwyn stepping foot in this place had given him pause would be a grievous understatement. His shadows had twirled around his wings in agitation when Rhys had informed him, but he also knew that his mate was not the same girl he had rescued from Sangravah those years ago. He had agreed to let her hear the request and decide for herself what she would do, and he would be happy to do everything in his power to ensure that she was prepared.

The female that faced him now was nothing short of a queen.

Azriel found himself thinking back through the times that he had been rendered breathless by her astonishing beauty – more times than he could count. The first time he’d seen her in the Valkyrie leathers he thought he might have to leave the room, lest he melt into a heap on the floor before her. Their first Starfall together his shadows had frozen around him as he remembered how to breathe, her dress and eyes outsparkling the heavens. The evening of their mating ceremony, where a simple silk shift had sent tendrils of inky mist dancing and had nearly set his soul on fire.

Before him was a warrior, confident and ferocious. And his. Her skin was moonlight against the darkest blue the seamstress could find, curves barely concealed beneath lace and beading that had been expertly placed to toe the line between demure and deadly. Makeup was not something the former priestess indulged in often, but the wine-red that painted her full lips tempted him to lick his own and the kohl lining her teal pools only seemed to set them ablaze. The high ponytail was somewhat unexpected, but it was the sight of the blade strapped to her thigh – so dark it seemed to absorb any light that dared touch it – that had the breeches of his leathers tightening considerably and his twirling shadows thickening.

Truth-teller.

Neither of them needed weapons to be deadly, but that didn’t mean they would venture into the Court of Nightmares unarmed. And there would be no better way to send a message to any who dared covet his mate than for her to brandish the deadly blade that was known throughout the continent.

Gwyn strode toward him, head held high. She had schooled her expressive eyes into cool indifference, something she had likely learned from him, but Azriel could spy a glimmer of mischief. She was enjoying this game, and he was more than content to play it with her. He lowered his chin and dropped to one knee as she approached, and his shadows could hear the whispers of stunned onlookers as the spymaster placed himself firmly beneath the Valkyrie in the hierarchy. A wry grin curled his lips as he watched those exquisitely formed legs come to a halt before him and the hand at her right hip present itself. He kept his gaze fixed on the speckled flesh of her knuckles as he raised his own scarred hand, cobalt siphon flickering, and grasped her fingers before leaning in to reverently press his lips to her knuckles. He could feel the golden warmth of her satisfaction in his chest, sparks of desire intermixed.

When he released her hand it moved to his face, two long elegant fingers landing under his chin and pulling it upward. Lifting his gaze, he found her face alight with fierce confidence.

“Shadowsinger,” she purred, applying more pressure to encourage him to rise before her. Their stares were transfixed in the eyes of the other as he did so, her hand only moving far enough to land in a possessive grip toward the back of his neck. He couldn’t hide the smirk that crawled over his lips, enamored as he was with the predatory confidence that she wore.

“My lady,” he murmured, dipping his chin. “You look absolutely exquisite.” The slightest pink blossomed on her cheeks, proving that she was not completely immune to his charm. She circled him and stepped up behind him onto the first stair to the dais, keeping her palm on is neck. He had to stifle a groan, reveling in her possessive touch and the heat of her at his back between his wings. Her breath snaked across his ear and his skin pebbled, her lips like a phantom touch over the shell of it.

“You are beautiful and dark, as always, love,” Gwyn whispered before dipping her chin and pressing those soft painted lips just below where the sharp line of his jaw met his neck. His breath shuddered and his mate gave a soft giggle. “Your shadows are quite… friendly tonight.”

“Well, lovely general, I can hardly be expected to control them when you make it so difficult for me to even manage myself,” Azriel breathed.

“Hmmm. You do make an excellent point.” She gripped his jaw and pulled it to the side to claim his lips with a bruising kiss. When she released him he nearly drowned in the teal pools that captured his gaze. He could see the challenge there, the desire, the pride. He loved when he could glimpse those things in her expression, when he could put those feelings there. Gods, the way it felt to bow before her, to be the one she trusted to submit to her will. It was a distinct possibility he wouldn’t survive the night.

“I know you have duties, Shadowsinger,” the Valkyrie stated softly, dropping her fingers from his jaw. His permission to leave her side, to stride through the shadows and dark corners of this hall to ensure that members of this court still understood the price of disrespect and the power of fear. He turned, tucking his wings tight to avoid striking her. He meant to look back into those piercing, starlit eyes, but his gaze caught on Truth-teller at her thigh. He lifted a mottled hand and settled his palm over the hilt, letting his callused fingers brush delicately over that tempting sliver of porcelain flesh. Leaning down, he brushed his mouth over the peek of skin just above his thumb.

“Wine, my lady?” He straightened and grinned crookedly at her flushed neck and chest. She dipped her chin in confirmation and he turned, striding into the throng of revelers. Hopefully his High Lord didn’t expect him to listen too closely. It was peacetime, after all, and he had to contend with every delicious image of Gwyn flashing through his mind. Hopefully his shadows would pick up on anything glaring and drag his attention out of the gutter.

He had retrieved two goblets and turned back toward the dais when he felt a twinge of anxiety in his chest, tightening the golden thread that connected the Shadowsinger and the Valkyrie. He weaved quickly in and out of the dark swaths in the hall, his shadows carrying to him the echoes of words between her and a yet-unknown male.

“…quite an actress, priestess…”

Azriel quieted the snarl that threatened to push through his lips as he rounded a pillar silently, finding Gwyn’s back pressed against it and the male – one of the darkbringers, he realized – doing his best to tower over her. He stayed silent, tucked into the darkness. He had vowed not to intervene until it became obvious that she couldn’t handle the situation. And while he had felt the moment of uncertainty in their bond, his mate looked calm and nonchalant – if not a small bit annoyed.

“Although I find it difficult to believe that a timid acolyte from the library sanctuary could best the Spymaster. They say the women in the great library have experienced great horrors, but perhaps if you warm the bed of the angel of death, you’re into that kind of thing.”

The male had lifted a hand to Gwyn’s face, making to touch her. And quick as the wind she had Truth-teller in her hand, blade against a particularly sensitive part of the male who thought he could dare to insinuate what he did, much less dare to touch her. Azriel saw the rage sparkling in her gaze, all traces of anxiety and annoyance gone.

“Think very carefully about the next thing you say,” she hissed. When the male tried to smirk and play it off she pushed the blade the slightest bit deeper, the edge biting into the leather of his pants. “I am a general. I won the Illyrian Blood Rite. I have bested far more intimidating creatures than yourself. So do ask yourself if you want to test your luck.”

Azriel’s lips twisted into a sadistic smile, basking in the glow of his mate’s strength. Her eyes darted to him for a split second, and the male’s eyes followed. The color drained from his face when he saw the rippling shadows twisting and rising like flames over his shoulders and wings. But a push against the dagger at his crotch shifted his attention back to Gwyn.

“Hear me now, brute,” she seethed. “I do not always keep my Shadowsinger so tightly leashed. And he does not take kindly to unimpressive, brainless males touching the female that he belongs to.” My Shadowsinger. The female that he belongs to. Mother above, those words went straight to his already-straining cock. “So I hope that little thrill that pulsed through your undoubtedly underwhelming dick when you thought you could intimidate me and bend me to your desires… I do so hope it was worth it.”

The male stepped away with hands raised, but the copper-haired queen kept her blazing stare on him, dagger still ready in her hand.

“Shadowsinger, I hope you have that wine,” she cooed, sheathing the weapon when Azriel stepped to her side. He offered her the goblet and then offered her an arm, muscles and shadows tremoring from barely contained fury. His instincts warred within him, an urge to rip the male limb from limb against the desire to whisk his mate into an alcove and plunge his tongue between her legs until she was screaming his name. He wasn’t sure if he had ever desired her with such a feral male pride, and from the heat blooming across her chest he could tell that she could feel that pulsing need through their bond. But her breathing was slightly more shallow than normal, and he remembered that nervous twinge he’d felt before she’d nearly castrated the man. The spymaster let them to a darkened corner, shadows swallowing them and hiding them from prying eyes and ears.

“Are you alright, songbird?” All pretense and games were gone, leaving only the soft voice of a protective male concerned for the love of his eternity. He took her wine glass and set both of them on the stone floor. When he straightened he pinned her with his gaze and raised callused fingers to trace the freckles on her cheek. Gwyn sighed a calming breath and leaned into his touch.

“Yes, love. I was nervous for a moment, but I think I handled things quite well,” she smiled widely. He released a dark chuckle of his own, stepping into her and pinning her gently against the wall. Azriel tilted his head and leaned down, pressing his lips against the sensitive space under hear ear. Nipping at it, then flicking his tongue over the spot to soothe it, smiling against her soft flesh as he felt her gasp beneath him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more aroused in my life, Gwyneth Berdara,” he uttered into her neck, voice low and guttural. He pressed his hips against her, letting her feel what she had done to him. “When you called me yours, when you said I belong to you… Gods, nothing has ever been truer.”

Azriel dragged his lips wantonly over her jaw toward her mouth, nipping at her bottom lip when he got there. He was on fire for her, every inch of him aflame with want for his warrior queen. He crushed his lips into hers, tongue beseeching. She gave in without pause, and he greedily pulled at her lips and tongue. He wanted to breathe her in, needed to taste her.

“Azriel,” she gasped, but he continued pouring himself into her, only stopping when her hands cupped his face gently. He pulled back and took in her swollen lips and lust-darkened eyes. “We need to behave, remember?” The shadowsinger groaned, earning a musical laugh from the Valkyrie. He leaned his forehead against hers.

“Fine,” he growled. “But as soon as we get home, rest assured, I will have you. And I want you to keep Truth-teller on that pretty thigh.”

Gwyn’s cheeks turned crimson and his throat rumbled with approval. He pressed a quick, hard kiss into her lips before stepping back, giving her some air to cool the heat on her face. Swiftly, he scooped up their wine goblets and offered his elbow to her.

“Ready to terrorize more unsuspecting males, my lady?” Azriel grinned wickedly, and she threw her head back, a cackle erupting from her throat. She tucked her starkissed hand into the crook of his arm.

“Always, Shadowsinger.” Quickly, before he let his shadows disperse, she pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I love you.”

The bond burned golden fire in his chest, swelling with love and contentment and bliss. “I love you, too, Berdara.” He murmured, and then they were in the throng again, the music and revelry of the Hewn City swallowing them. He let his shadows wander and listen, but his attention was focused on his mate for the remainder of the evening. He marveled at her confidence, her strength, the pride she felt at being able to conquer this moment. Feyre may be his High Lady, but Gwyneth Berdara was his queen. And, if tonight was any indication, he would gladly bow before her for the rest of his immortal life.

#gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel week #gwynriel fanfic #gwynriel supremacy #gwynriel

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thebigbadbatswife · 4 years ago

Text

One Single Thread Of Gold Tied Me To You

Summary - Everyone is tied to their soulmate with a red thread tied to their wrist. All except Y/N’s, who’s thread is gold. Tired of waiting for her soulmate to come and find her, she decides to go and find them. It doesn’t go quite how she expected it to.

Warnings - A little angst

[A/N] - This is a soulmate au where you and your soulmate are attached by an unbreakable red thread (or, in this case, gold), tied to your wrist. This was inspired by the song 'Invisible String' by Taylor Swift.

Word Count - 4k

As the early morning sun slowly filtered into your room, through your blinds, you carefully examined the thread attached to your wrist. Everyone had one; it was your link to your soulmate. Yours was different to everyone else though. While everyone had red, yours was gold. As you turned your wrist, it caught the sunlight and glistened a little.

Everyone you knew had always been fascinated by it. As was nearly every stranger you met. Why was it gold? What exactly made you and your soulmate so different to everyone else’s? Questions you had often asked yourself as well. Why were you two so different?

Your family had a theory that whoever it was, they were rich. Very rich. That was surely the reason it was gold. Nothing else made sense to them. Meanwhile your friends were completely convinced that your soulmate was some kind of God.

“Come on, Y/N! It’s the only thing that makes sense!” Tracey said before taking another sip of her third glass of wine. Her usually bright emerald eyes were glazed over from all of the alcohol. “Why else would it be gold?”

“You gotta admit, Tracey might be drunk right now, but she has a good point!” Skylar joined in. She took her brown eyes off the blonde and looked over at you before continuing. “Oh! What if your soulmate is like Wonder Woman or Superman or something! How cool would that be?”

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your own glass of wine. “Stop it. You’re both being ridiculous,” you had told them because they really were being ridiculous. There was no way your soulmate was a member of the Justice League, let alone an Amazonian Princess or the Man of Steel.

You were, of course, curious of your soulmate yourself. Who wouldn’t be curious of the person they’re destined to end up with? But you didn’t think up the crazy theories your friends and family liked to come up with. Instead you wondered things like, what kind of hobbies do they have? What’s their favourite colour? What type of music do they listen to? Were they a cat person or a dog person? And other things like that.

Another thing about the thread that tied you to your soulmate was that, while everyone could see the thread around your wrist, only you and soulmate could see where it led. While you had always wanted to follow it, you had decided that it would be better to focus on having a decent job and place to live first.

During that time a small part of you had hoped that maybe your soulmate would come looking for you, but since they clearly weren’t, maybe you should? After all, you had a well paying job and a great apartment, so why not? Every job was legally required to allow people time off to go search, so that wouldn’t be an issue. It was paid time off as well so you didn’t have to worry about money. You also had a car so you wouldn’t have to spend a shit ton of money on travel. At least, you hoped you wouldn’t. In truth, for all you knew, your soulmate could be in a completely different country. Now that would certainly complicate things.

Shaking that thought away (because there was no way fate could be that cruel), you got out of bed and set about putting the wheels in motion that would allow you to start following your thread

‘ Welcome to Gotham City! ’ the sign read as you drove past it. When you had told those close to you, your plan, they had been super supportive. Now, if they knew where your thread had lead you, you doubted they’d be as supportive. Hell, even you were rethinking things now. Out of all the cities for your soulmate to be in, it just had to be this one.

How did you know it was this city that they resided in and it wasn’t just another stop along the way? It was hard to explain, but you had a feeling deep within your gut, almost like a sixth sense that just yelled “Yep! This is the place!”.

You felt extremely uneasy as you drove through the city. It was night-time as well which did absolutely nothing to help. Honestly, of all the times to arrive in Gotham, night-time was definitely the worst. Well, there was nothing you could do about that now, you just had to keep on going, so you did.

The golden thread snaked through the gothic city and went from the “posh” part of the city all the way to the worst part of the city. The buildings were run down and most of the windows were boarded up. Each turn you took there were shiftier and shiftier characters on every corner. You started to get the feeling that you really shouldn’t be here. Plus you were starting to wonder if you really wanted to know who your soulmate was if they were hanging out in neighbourhoods like this.

You brought your car to a stop in front of a particularly dark and sinister looking alleyway. A particularly dark and sinister looking alleyway that your golden thread lead straight into. Coming to this part of this city was already a bad idea. Continuing to follow that thread to what had to be your certain doom was even worse. Yet, at this point in your mission, you were pretty much committed.

You couldn’t help out a quiet and very nervous laugh as you climbed out of your car. ‘ This is fucking insane ,’ you thought as you stepped out of your car. Before shutting and locking it (though you doubt that would do much to protect it in this area), you grabbed your pepper spray. ‘ I really hope your worth all this .’

As you followed the thread down the alleyway, you heard a sudden loud bang. A gunshot. You stopped in your tracks and you could feel your heart pick up its pace. Your thread lead in the direction the shot had come from. ‘ I really hope you weren’t involved with that .’ Taking a deep breath, you continued down the alleyway.

The alleyway lead out onto another street. There was a small crunching sound as you stepped out onto the street. Taking a step back, you looked to the ground to see what you had just stepped on. The ground was littered with small shards of glass. Looking up, you figured the shards of glass were from the bulbs from the streetlamps. Something had broken them. It didn’t take you long to figure out what, or rather who ,was responsible.

Further down the street, taking on group of ten men, was none other than Gotham’s Caped Crusader. The Batman.

You quickly ducked back into the alley you had just left. You then carefully peered around the wall, so you could watch the fight. You were well aware of the fact that your thread was leading straight toward the fight. Which meant that your soulmate was involved.

You watched the fight intensely, both intrigued and terrified to figured which one of the men was on the end of your thread. There was a voice in the back of your head praying hardcore that it was the hero in the centre of the fight.

Batman was a blur of black and dark grey as he rapidly made his way through the group of men. With a variety of different punches, kicks and gadgets, he made short work of them. During his combat flow, you followed your thread with your eyes and a small gasp left you as you realised who the other end was attached to.

Holy fuck. You’re friends had, kind of, been right. While your soulmate wasn’t Wonder Woman or Superman, like they had suggested, he was apart of the Justice League’s ‘Big Three’. Your soulmate was Batman . At least now you knew why he hadn’t come looking for you. He’d been busy saving the world.

Now you had to figure out how to approach him before he ended up disappearing into the night.

Exiting your cover, you took your thread between your finger and thumb and gently tugged on it a couple of times.

Batman looked at his end of the thread curiously as your tugs had gotten his attention. Then his head drifted upwards, following where it lead till his eyes settled on you.

If he was shocked, he didn’t show it. He just stood there, his eyes never leaving you. Part of you wanted to cower away from the intense stare, but you willed yourself not to. He was your soulmate, and you weren’t a criminal, you had no reason to be afraid.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, finally ending the silence between you. His voice was deep and almost robotic sounding. Probably some sort of voice modulator to help hide his identity, you figured.

“In Gotham? Yeah, this place really sucks,” you replied, thinking about all the things you had heard about this city, “but I came here to find my soulmate; to find you.”

“You shouldn’t have.” His voice was sharp and serious as he spoke. He also sounded irritated at your sudden appearance, which caused you to frown. That couldn’t be right… could it?

“What?” You hated how meek and pathetic your voice sounded, but you couldn’t help it. Wasn’t this supposed to be a happy moment? One of the happiest in your life in fact. Instead you felt like you were being scolded rather than meeting the person who was supposed to be your other half.

“I didn’t want to meet you. Now I suggest you go home. It’s not safe here.”

What? You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. There was pressure behind your eyes and your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath as you took a step backwards away from him. It quickly sunk in that the man you’d been destined to be with, the man you had thought about since you were old enough to understand the concept of a soulmate, wanted nothing to do with you.

“I-I’m sorry I disturbed you.” Your voice broke as you fought back the tears that threatened to fall. You weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. You then turned around and ran back toward where you had left your car.

As fast as you could, you started your car up and made your way to a safer part of the city. It didn’t take you long to find a somewhat empty parking lot to park in. Once the engine was off, you screamed and aggressively slammed against the wheel as you let the tears freely fall.

You felt like a complete and utter fucking idiot. Of course he didn’t want you. You’d probably just get in the way of him saving the world or something like that. Besides, what was that article you had seen a few months ago? Something about Catwoman and a relationship between the two? While it happened very rarely, some people in the world had been known to reject their soulmate because they had found someone they deemed better. Is that what had happened? Whatever the reason, you could feel your heart breaking.

You had used to think that, out of all the members of the Justice League, Batman had been one of the cooler members. Now all you could think was that he was a massive jerk.

Maybe it was your own fault for romanticising the whole thing and thinking that your meeting would be something out of a fairytale. Apparently fate was far crueller than you could have ever thought it to be.

Bruce watched as she ran away from him, back down the alleyway she had come from. A small voice in the back of his head told him to go after her. To grab her, hold her close and apologise, tell her that he hadn’t meant it. He ignored it and headed off in the opposite direction, back to where he had left the batmobile.

Over his comms, he heard a barely audible sigh and he could easily picture his butler and lifelong friend shaking his head in disappointment. No doubt he was going to get an earful once he got back to the batcave. Well it certainly wasn’t the first time.

As the batmobile pulled up in the batcave, he could see Alfred waiting for him. ‘ Here we go ,’ he thought as he got out of his car and removed his cowl.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he stated as he walked past him and toward the batcomputer. He set his cowl down on the desk. Even as the words left his mouth he knew he had wasted his breath. If there was one thing that Alfred had done consistently since Bruce had started down this path, it was letting him know when he disagreed with something he did.

“Was that really necessary Master Bruce? She’s come all of this way…” Alfred started, but ended up trailing off. There was a small moment of silence before he continued. “You know, I remember a small boy who couldn’t wait to go out there and find…” Before he could finish what he was saying, Bruce promptly cut him off.

“What would you have me do, Alfred?!” His voice echoed off of the cave’s walls and disturbed some of the bats still hanging on the ceiling. Bruce gestured toward his equipment and the display cases that held some rather badly damaged batsuits. All of them testaments to injuries that had come far too close to killing him. “Would you really have me force this life on to her? The dangers, the no guarantee I’ll come home…” He took a deep breath and rested both his hands on the surface of his desk. “She deserves so much better.” His voice was quiet, but still easily heard in the, almost, silent cave.

“With all due respect, sir, I believe she should be allowed to make that decision, not you,” Alfred replied before leaving the batcave, not giving Bruce a chance to respond.

He looked in the direction of the stairs that lead up into the manor. The direction that Alfred had headed in. Was he right? Should he be leaving it up to her to decide what she wanted? But with all the dangers he faced nightly… No, it was better for him to stay far away from her.

Over the following week Bruce found himself distracted. It didn’t matter where he was, what he was doing, he couldn’t focus. And considering what he did once night fell over Gotham, to say being unfocused really wasn’t good was a complete understatement of the situation. He had been having far too many close calls recently.

He couldn’t get it out of his head. The way she had looked at him as he told her he didn’t want to meet her, that she should leave. Alfred’s words echoed in his mind and he found himself questioning the decisions he had made that night. Something that Bruce rarely, if ever, did. Everything he did was meticulously planned and there was never any doubt when he made a decision. Was this what happened once you met your soulmate and rejected them?

Bruce was sure that the rest of the Justice League had taken notice. With how off beat and slow to react to certain things, it would be hard not to. Of course, if they had, none of them had mentioned it to him. Apparently they knew better. For the time being, at least. He was sure it wouldn’t be long before they did try to pry into his personal life.

Which lead him here. On the roof of the building opposite of Y/N’s apartment building. He hadn’t needed to do any extensive research to find her, or learn her name, because he had been in this exact spot a couple of years ago.

Two years ago Bruce’s own curiosity had gotten the better of him. He blamed Clark and his soulmate, a reporter by the name of Lois Lane, for it. He had seen them one too many times in the Watchtower together and had found himself wondering who exactly his soulmate was and what they was like. As a result, he had gone looking for them. Not because he wished to finally meet them, but so he could make sure his soulmate was safe and happy. And she was, so he had left. Only ever checking up on her every now and then to make sure she had stayed that way.

He looked down at the golden thread that came out of his gauntlet and lead down toward the apartment he’d been watching. Both as Bruce Wayne and Batman he had made sure to keep it well hidden. With its unique colouring he couldn’t allow anyone to see it. It would be all too easy for his enemies to find her if they did see it.

He knew that by being here he was easily undoing everything he had done to keep her safe, but, then again, had she not done exactly that when she had tracked him down in Gotham? Besides, and while he would never say it out loud, Alfred had been right. It should be up to Y/N to decide whenever or not she wanted all the baggage that came with him being in her life. Baggage that had driven more than one person from his life…

He shook that thought from his head and got up from his crouched position on the roof. Bruce then leapt from the roof and allowed himself to fall for a couple of seconds before opening up his cape and let it catch the wind that was rushing past him. He silently glided over to her apartment’s balcony.

Y/N was in her apartment alone. She was sat on her sofa, the light from the tv was the only thing illuminating the room.

Bruce was unsure of how exactly to go about this. Back in Gotham he had originally thought of approaching her as Bruce Wayne, but quickly discarded it. Bruce Wayne showing up at an out of the way apartment building was sure to garner attention. As would Batman using the front door, so the balcony had seemed to be the best option. But now that he was here, he wasn’t entirely sure it was.

Should he just knock? That seemed like the best way to go about this. It was going to scare the everloving daylights out of her, but he could deal with that.

He gently rapped the glass of the balcony door with his knuckles. As he had expected, Y/N leapt up from her seat. A bowl and the contents of the bowl followed her and scattered across her carpeted floor. She spun around and when she saw him, the look of shock on her face quickly turned to anger. Her eyes narrowed and he swore that glare would be enough to make even the toughest of Gotham’s thugs would cower at its intensity. Maybe she would deal with his life better than he thought.

After a minute of glaring at him, she turned around and walked toward the lightswitch. At the same time, she gestured for him to enter.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” she demanded as soon as he had entered the apartment and shut the door behind him. The rage in her voice was evident and Bruce was sure he could cut the tension in the room with a batarang.

“I came to apologise,” he said, his voice gentle despite how distorted his modulator made it sound. Y/N scoffed immediately. He didn’t blame her. If he was in her shoes, he wouldn’t believe him either. After all ‘Batman’ wasn’t exactly known for making apologies.

“Yeah right.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m being truthful. I… I shouldn’t have said what I said. It wasn’t right.”

“Then why did you say it?” A fair question and one he had an answer to. Before he even said it, Bruce was aware how cliché it sounded.

“I wanted to keep you safe. This life isn’t for everyone.”

“So without even meeting me, you decided that it wasn’t for me.” She shook her head. “That’s not your decision to make!” she yelled at him.

“I know. It’s been pointed out to me before.” In fact that night in the cave wasn’t the first time Alfred had told him that. “But that’s why I’m here now. To give you all the information you need to make that decision.”

You listened intently as Batman explained the dangers of the life he was leading. The dangers that effected the people in his life in one way or another. He also made it a point to reiterate the fact that when he left at night or was summoned by the Justice League there was no guarantee he would return. You asked the occasional question, but for the most part you just listened to him to talk and let his words sink in.

You got it. You understood the very clear concerns that Batman had about this whole thing, they concerned you as well, but you weren’t about to let it deter you. You wanted to know your soulmate. Even if it ended horribly, like he was saying it would, you felt it in your core that you would regret not knowing him, especially if the worst truly did happen. And you told him so.

“Even if you’re not wearing a mask, this life is dangerous. Anything can happen.”

“Anything could happen to me when I leave my apartment each day.”

The superhero life wasn’t special in that regard. As you spoke, your voice was a lot calmer than it had been earlier. In fact, as he had spoke and explained you had found your anger slowly fading. You still wanted to slap the jerk superhero before you, but that was a considerable downgrade from your overwhelming need to deck him when you first saw him standing on your balcony.

“It won’t be easy.”

“I’ve never backed down from a challenge before.”

You admired his commitment to deter you, but it wasn’t going to work. You were too stubborn to let it. Something you were positive he was learning very quickly.

“There’s nothing I can say to convince you that this is a bad idea, is there?”

“Nope.” You made sure to pop the ‘p’.

Batman sighed deeply. You watched as he looked away from you and toward the golden thread that linked the two of you together. You could almost hear the gears in his brain turning as he thought. Then he was looking back up at you.

“In that case then.”

You watched as Batman brought his hands up to his cowl. Your eyes widened and you couldn’t help the small gasp that left you as he removed the cowl and revealed his identity to you. Bruce Wayne. While you didn’t live in Gotham City, you were well aware of Gotham’s favoured son. You would’ve had to have lived underneath a rock to not know who he was.

And apparently your family had been right on the money, literally. Not that you cared about the money, you weren’t superficial like that. Personality was far more important than the material items someone may or may not have. In your eyes, at least.

You both stood in silence, his blue eyes studying you, probably trying to gauge how you were going to react. To be truthful, you weren’t entirely sure how to react. Except maybe…

“Well, it’s… it’s nice to meet you Bruce Wayne. I guess this is the part where we forget about what happened and start over?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Yeah, sure, this was probably going to end horribly, but you were looking forward to the adventure that lie ahead.

#bruce wayne #batman #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne imagines #batman imagines #soulmate au #my writing

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crowdedimagines · 4 years ago

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Spill It - Harry Styles

an// i literally love the spill your guts concept, but hopefully this is a new take on it! also, this is not going to be chronologically correct to real life, that’s the fun of fiction! also in a world without covid

“I will never understand how you continue to convince people to do this.” I sigh, taking in the table in front of me.

“Let’s take a look at what Y/n here is so fond of.” James teases before giving the table a good spin, showing off all of its contents, “To start we’ve got salmon smoothie, beef tongue, bird saliva, scorpion, fish head, hot sauce, bull penis, and finally, the water beetle. I think you’re both familiar with the rules of this game.”

“I’m sure.” Niall smiles, turning his head towards mine and I nod in agreement.

Niall and I go way back, having been friends for years. We met back in 2013 when I opened for One Direction’s tour. I quickly become close with all of them. One more so than the others. Harry. He and I just clicked, everyone knew it. It took months for us to start dating, afraid that we would ruin the good thing we had, but neither of us wanted to wait anymore. You can’t pass up a connection like that.

“Niall, I will ask you the first question.” James announces, “We’ll go with the salmon smoothie.”

“Oh god.” He mutters.

James lets out a loud laugh and covers his face in shock over the question. He turns it to me so I can catch a glimpse before he reads it out-loud and my jaw drops.

“You might as well drink now, not even hear the question.” I tease, leaning across the table.

“Niall, who is your least favorite member of One Direction?”

Niall’s head drops in defeat, even though he was sure going into this a question like this would be brought up. He just wishes it could’ve been on something a little easier to choke down.

“Drink up, babe.” I smile, a teasing smile crossing my face.

“Fuck.” He shakes his head.

“I can’t… “ He reaches for the glass and throws it back, it takes a few seconds for the sludge to finally shift and he can get a mouthful. A sour look takes over his face as soon as it reaches his taste buds. He quickly leans down to spit it in the bucket.

“That’s horrendous.” He coughs, “It was like a salmon yogurt.”

“Alright Niall, your turn to ask Y/n.”

I smile politely to my friend of many years who takes on a sinister look once he’s read the question.

“Please be nice.” I stick out my bottom lip.

“Right right.” He laughs, spinning the table as he takes in his options.

“Don’t forget I have a very good memory, especially of the years spent on a shared tour bus…” I chaff.

“Don’t remind me.” He settles on the hot sauce, thankfully one of the lesser evil options. I would take this over anything else on the table.

I did crash on their bus more than my own. It started because they were fun, barely older than me, but then when Harry and I started dating we became. Even sharing a bunk as uncomfortable as it was most nights. Those boys grew up with me, and I’m thankful to still be in good contact with all of them.

“You recently welcomed your third god-child into the world when Zayn Malik and Gigi Hadid welcomed their daughter to the world.”

“Yes, I did.” I smile at the cheering audience. I have managed to do the impossible in staying close with all of the boys since the hiatus. Well, all but one. Gigi and I met years ago, and I introduced the pair at an award show. The other boys had their reason for making me god mother, but it did give me this monopoly on all of the One Direction children.

“You are actually the god-mother to all three of the One Direction children. Who’s your favorite?”

My jaw drops at the question. Who had the audacity to ask that? To think I could ever answer that about any of my little nieces and nephews. The audience cheers in shock over the question as well.

“You’re joking.” I scoff, “They’re children, I could never pick a favorite!”

“How about your least favorite then?” James teases.

“You lot are all horrendous!”

I grab the shot glass and down the hot sauce immediately. I love all of them way too much to ever pick. I’m sure it’s exactly what they expected with a question like that. It burns for a few seconds and I put the glass back and try to shake it off.

“Nice one!” Niall cheers.

“Now James-” I clear my throat, the hot sauce catching up with me, “Name one guest that you would never invite back to the show.” I bite back a smile and fan my face with the card.

James looks up into the camera as if he actually wants to answer.

“C’mon, you can do it! Just for once.” I grin like a little kid in a candy store, I want him to answer. I want to know, and it would be nice to finally get him to reveal an answer like this.

“Are you trying to get this show canceled?” He turns to one of the producers off screen. He looks between them and the water beetle I’ve placed in front of him. He gives his head one last shake before throwing it down the hatch.

“Niall, it’s your last night on Earth, you can either spend it with your ex girlfriend Ellie Goulding or Selena Gomez?”

He goes back and forth, trying to be polite with his answer before eventually picking Ellie.

“Y/n, who is your favorite member of One Direction?” Niall asks, the smirk growing wider with every word he utters.

The crowd roars, knowing very well of my relationship from a few years ago. One that people still brought up regularly in both Harry and my life due to us remaining friendly.

“What is up with you guys wanting to know my favorites?” I roll my eyes, “Give me something I can actually answer.”

“Fine! I’ll ask you one!” Niall grins, an evil and family glint in his eyes appearing, “What songs have you written about Harry?”

A red hue takes over my face again, only this time it’s not from the hot sauce.

“Either that, or the bird saliva.” He grins, showing off a wide smile. If only we weren’t on national television and I could smack it off.

“It smells like wet dog.” I sigh, I pick it up giving it a whiff before setting it back down on the table, “Could I name one song?”

Niall and James exchange a look before the nod accepting it.

“I wrote the song Everything about him.” I smile. It shouldn’t exactly be a surprise to most people, there were clues. Both of our fans were smart enough to catch on and read between the lines. It was a song I released almost two years ago, the album following our breakup.

It was a powerful song, it quickly became one of the favorites of my fans. It’s also one of the few that I don’t perform. I can’t think of a time I’ve sung that song without crying, it wasn’t meant for the stage. It was meant to be played in your bedroom while you stare at your ceiling. People have always understood that.

“It’s a lovely song.” Niall smiles knowingly.

“Thank you.” I smile, I move on and reach out to ask James his question.

“James, you have been blessed to have both Niall and I on for carpool karaoke.” I smile at Niall, “Which one did you enjoy more?”

I can’t fight off the laughter that takes over. As if it isn’t hard enough to answer questions like these, it’s only upped the ante by having us both here.

“You’re kidding.” He dabs away the sweat on his forehead.

“It’s okay, Niall won’t be that offended.” I reassure and stick out my tongue at Niall.

“You’re an arse.” Niall laughs with the roll of his eyes.

In the middle of Niall and I acting like children bickering, James tears off a bite of the cows tongue without another word.

“Oh god.” I turn away from the unpleasant sight.

“That’s rank.” Niall huffs.

Niall answers his next question from James again, successfully getting away without eating anything.

“Y/n, if the past four years you have gotten into acting. You have made quite a name for yourself on the big screen as well as on the stage.” Niall begins.

“I don’t like where this is going.” I laugh.

“Rank your co-stars from your past films best to worst; Dylan O’Brian, Logan Lerman, and John Boyega.” Niall smacks his knee with a laugh.

“I have been blessed to work with so many talented actors” I start, picking up the terrifying looking bug that has been placed in front of me.

“Mhm.” James agrees with an evil smile on his face.

“So talented, that I could never rank them.” I throw back the scorpion before I can second guess myself. I manage to chew enough of it for it to count before spitting it out as gracefully as I can.

That’s a wrap after that, enough time getting juicy content out of us quite literally either spilling or filling our guts. I give Niall a hug before going back to my dressing room. I couldn’t be more thankful to share the couch tonight with a long time friend.

I drive home, eager to go home and relax. The episode won’t air until later tonight which gives me a couple hours of peace from Twitter. I take a bath and make myself some dinner, before eventually climbing into bed and turning on the TV to watch the episode.

It’s good, fun to watch back. Niall and I make a good pair, easy to read the friendship on camera. In time the episode ends and I turn off the TV and decide to go to bed. It’s been a long day full of press. Before I can actually drift off my phone lighting up and vibrating on my nightstand grabs my attention.

You are my everything too. xx

PART TWO??????

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #Harry Styles

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rocorambles · 4 years ago

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Trapped

Pairing: Sakusa x Reader

Prompt: Fantasy

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Toxic Relationship, NSFW, Fantasy AU, Sorcerer Sakusa, Rape/Non-Con, Mind Control, Manipulation, Obsessive and Posessive Behavior, Degradation

Summary: You should have trusted your gut instincts, the lessons you had learned the hard way about just how cruel powerful men could be.

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Friday, October 30th 11:00pm U.K. time!)

You splutter awake, laughing, but also groaning as a wet tongue slobbers all over your face and you lightly shove the fox that’s currently standing beside your resting head, intent on waking you up to play. Blearily you blink your eyes, trying to gauge what time it is based on the light seeping into the cave you’ve come to call your home. Judging by the bright rays of sunlight, it’s already mid-morning and you stretch your arms above your head, petting your furry companion behind its ears before standing up and treading out into the forest, your friend walking right beside you, its tail brushing against your leg.

The familiar peace and quiet of the wind rustling past branches and the faint chirping of birds wafts through the air and you smile as you continue making your way to the nearby waterfall, various four-legged animals that have come to be your family and friends popping their heads out of grassy patches and from behind trees in greeting. You can’t even remember the last time you’d seen another human being and you grimace at the thought of your last encounter.

Orphans, especially female orphans like you, rarely survive for long and you bitterly remember the years of being a street urchin, never knowing when your next bite of food would come, never knowing who to trust in a world full of both humans and magical creatures who’d do horrible things to an unclaimed child and you shiver at the thought of possibly being eaten or harvested for ingredients for countless dark magic spells. But life had only gotten harder the older you became and as a single, vulnerable woman, you began to attract a different attention, no longer able to blend as seamlessly as you once had with predatory eyes trailing after you, resting too long on parts of your body that you desperately wanted to hide from the world.

You tried sticking it out, finding ad hoc jobs here and there as a maid, as a seamstress, as a waitress. But corruption ran deep wherever you went and disgust makes you recoil when you remember all the times you’d been cornered by all types of men and creatures, received unwanted touches in hidden corners and degrading remarks of what your only purpose in life was. And after being left to sob, pain lancing between your legs, your clothes ripped to shreds, knowing no one would ever take your side, knowing that this would just continue happening over and over again, you vowed to never have anything to do with another sentient being ever again.

You’d heard rumors of the forest, about its enchantment, about the stories of terrible things hiding away in its heart, but you couldn’t imagine any monster worse than the ones you’ve already encountered and you determinedly march forward, never turning back to look at the city you’re leaving behind. And as you step past the border of trees, even you, someone who’s never had anything to do with magic, can feel the surge of power, feel the crackling energy as you delve deeper and deeper. But maybe the forest could sense that you meant it no harm, maybe it knew that you were just a lonely, helpless soul, maybe it felt generous, felt pity for the damaged woman seeking refuge. Whatever the case was, it left you alone and in all the years you’d made a home in its lush vegetation, not once had you met any of the ghastly creatures you’d heard so many horror stories of. And maybe that’s why you let your guard down when you meet him, finding a false security in the wood and grass-filled world you now live in.

You don’t bother being quiet or stealthy as you walk. Why would you when there’s never been anyone else around? So imagine your shock when black human eyes are staring at you as you round the corner and reach the water’s edge and panic laces through you when you see how masculine and strong he looks, overwhelming fear making you tremble when you take in the staff you see laying next to him.

A sorcerer.

You’d learned the hard way that men were never to be trusted and that men with power and wealth were the ones to be even more wary of. Fortunately you’d only dealt with vile wealthy men and as awful as they had been, you know men gifted with an affinity for magic make those nobles seem as harmless as kittens in comparison. You’d seen firsthand the havoc sorcerors could wreak, seen the charred, mutilated, disfigured bodies put on display at the city gates as an example of the fate for anyone who rebels against the crown. To your knowledge, all sorcerors worked for the royal family, rarely leaving the walled fortress unless sent on a mission or task, but never in a place like this so-called cursed forest. So what was he doing here?

The urge to flee thrums through your veins, but when he makes no move to stand or get any closer to you, curiosity gets the better of you and you stay rooted to your spot and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself asking the first question that comes to mind.

“Who are you?”

When Sakusa had ventured outside of the castle walls for a break from the irritating humans inside the cramped corridors and bustling courtrooms, he had purposefully chosen a place where no other soul would be. His hand had immediately wrapped around his staff as the sound of approaching rustling interrupted his thoughts, but when you had made your presence known, he could only stare in awe, staff forgotten as he took you in.

You’re different from the usual noble women he sees on a daily basis. For one, you’re barely wearing anything, a makeshift dress of strung together leaves, flowers, and grass the only thing covering you and he can feel his face grow hot as he tries not to blatantly stare at your bare legs and arms. But as he really regards you, he can’t help but feel something wild, something primal in you and he blinks in shock when he realizes that you have the same energy as the forest, as if the forest has claimed you as one of its own and he’s so entranced by his realization that he’s startled by the sound of your voice.

From anyone else, he would have scowled at the forwardness and bluntness of the question, but for some reason, coming from you, he finds himself easily answering.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi”

People, conversations, human interaction. Those are all things Sakusa abhors and yet, as you tentatively draw closer to him, staring at him in wide eyed curiosity while the two of you exchange words, he thinks he doesn’t mind any of those things when you’re involved. He comes to visit you as often as he can, something warm blooming inside of him as he sees your hackles relax, notices how you inch closer and closer to him every time he arrives, and he can’t help but compare you to a wild animal and behind the warmth in his chest, something darker lurks, and he wonders what it would be like to tame you, claim you back from the wooded forest that had taken you in, mark you as his own.

And that thought festers and grows inside of him.

He does his best to keep it at bay, play it off as just a fleeting idea, but when your eyes and body begin to seep into his dreams, into his every waking thought, he can’t keep the desire down any longer and when he strides towards you once more, he drops to one knee in front of you, asking for your hand in marriage.

In hindsight it probably was foolish to think that you were as smitten with him, foolish to think that someone who had been scarred enough to escape from civilization would easily just return to the place full of painful memories, and yet red hot anger blazes through him when you turn him down. It doesn’t matter how sweet and kind you are about it, gently letting him down and telling him you’re sure he’d find someone much better suited to being his wife, someone prim and proper, someone educated and knowledgeable of court intricacies.

Humiliation only fuels his rage as he rises back to his feet and he can feel his magic churning, waiting to be used, dancing at his fingertips, and he has half a mind to forcefully drag you back with him, but he retracts it, pushes it down deep inside of him as he takes a deep breath. No, he wants you to come back and grovel at his feet, beg him to take you in, to help you. He wants you to feel the same need for him that he feels for you and he bites his tongue and restrains himself as his mind begins to plan and strategize.

He tries to remain as normal as possible, still going to visit you as often as before, but his nails dig into the palm of his hands at the pity in your eyes and he clenches his teeth at the way that you tread around him like he’s a wounded animal. But he takes those feelings and lets them drive him late through the night as he chants strange words, flips through old scrolls, experiments with different spells and ingredients and a rare smile stretches across his face when the pieces finally come together.

It’s time to take set his plan in motion and in the middle of the night while most of the city is fast asleep, there’s a strange flashing light, a rush of something sinister in the air, and the murmurs of masculine chanting swirling in the air, lingering, and foreshadowing the dark days ahead. But you remain asleep, peacefully ignorant of the shift in the atmosphere, naive to just how much your life will change.

You wake up, surprised by the lack of a warm furry body or tongue lapping at your face, and you vaguely wonder if you’d woken up in the middle of the night, but the sunlight filtering through tells you a different story. You feel strange, warning bells beginning to faintly clamor in your head, and you gingerly step outside of your lair only to freeze at the dead silence surrounding you. It’s always quiet and calm in the forest, but where there is usually the sound of nature and creatures, now there is only a deathly silence and you stare in horror as the forest seems to decay right in front of your eyes. What used to be green grass is wilting and brown. The trees you’d spent years climbing and picking fruit from are completely bare. But what makes a choked sob get caught in your throat is the corpses of the animals who’d you come to be so fond of littered around you and your slow stuttered amble becomes a frenzied run, as you race through your dying home, hoping to see any sign of life left.

But days pass and the state of your home only gets worse. Your throat is parched without clean water to drink, all the water sources near you murky and littered with fish corpses indicating just how toxic they’ve become. Your stomach aches with hunger, no vegetation, fruits, or animals nearby for you to ingest. And a deep loneliness churns inside of you and once again you feel as alone as you did when you were just a dirty street urchin trying to scrape together a living off the streets.

So when Sakusa comes for his regular visit and finds your weakened body slumped on the floor of your cave, it just makes sense to you, survival instincts kicking in, to drag yourself over to his feet, fling your arms around him when he finally bends down, and sob into his chest. You don’t question the way he’s slow to crouch down to your level and comfort you. You don’t see the cruel smile on his face when he sees you pathetically laying at his feet. You don’t notice the glee in his eyes as you beg him to take you with him. And when he asks you if you’d like to come and be his assistant, you eagerly nod your head and cling tighter to him, burying your face in his comforting and familiar presence as he teleports the two of you back to his living quarters.

Months pass and despite your initial wariness of returning to live among other beings, you find that Sakusa seems to dislike being around others just as much as you, and the two of you find a comfortable way of life mostly holed up in his living quarters with only the other as company. You’d never really been exposed or taught anything about magic growing up, so you’re genuinely fascinated as you watch Sakusa chant, attentively listening as he tells you what each ingredient is, eagerly following his every step as he shows you firsthand how to mix different potions. And Sakusa thinks that your aptitude for learning, the perfect synchronization the two of you have as you seamlessly work your way into his rhythm, preparing and setting things up before he even needs to tell you, speaks volumes of just how perfect the two of you are together, speaks volumes of how you were meant to be together.

He continues strategizing, gaining your trust, letting you grow accustomed to his presence, smiling at the way you don’t even bat an eye when his hands linger on yours a bit longer than normal when he hands you something, at the way you don’t tense up anymore when he presses his body against you from behind as he physically guides and shows you how to do something. And he knows he’s on the right track when you take the initiative to swipe a strand of his hair behind his ear as he concentrates on a task at hand, when you perch your chin on his shoulder, peeking over his shoulder as he jots down notes.

But even the greatest minds make mistakes and when he sends you off to find a certain piece of text for him from the bookshelf in the corner of his room, he forgets to clarify where on the shelf to look and not wanting to bother him, you meticulously comb through every book, forehead scrunching in curiosity when you find a notebook tucked behind, as if it was meant to be hidden. You consider just passing it over, not wanting to intrude on Sakusa’s privacy, but having gone through most of the books and not finding what you need, you wonder if perhaps the thing he’s looking for is in here and that this had just been misplaced or accidentally pushed towards the back of the shelf.

As you flip through the pages you quickly realize this is a book of Sakusa’s own spells and you stare in awe at how much work he’d done, how extensive his own self-created spell repertoire is, but suddenly your heart freezes when you flip to the last few filled pages. You’re not as fluent as Sakusa is when it comes to the ancient magical language, but you know enough after the time you’ve spent with him, the lessons he’s taught you, to recognize ‘plague’ and ‘forest’ and your throat and heart feel both heavy and panicked when you realize the implication of what you’d found. And suddenly you remember the day he had proposed to you vividly, ice cold shock and realization making you shudder when you remember a flash of something dark in his eyes when you had rejected him. And your hands tremble when you see the very last page, taking note of the phrase ‘mind control’. But before you can dwell on it, you squeal in surprise when the book is plucked from your hands and you’re rooted to the spot by dark eyes pinning you down.

You want to scream angry words at him. You want to escape. And yet, you do neither, frozen with fear when you remember exactly what happened to the victims who’d defied sorcerers.

“Hmm. This spell’s not quite ready yet, but I guess we can test it out early.”

And before you can even register what’s happening, a firm hand is placed on the top of your head, the other wrapped around your throat to keep you still as magic surges through the air and you vaguely hear yourself pleading for him to stop, until suddenly you feel trapped in your own body, the connection between your conscience and physical figure severed and you stare in horror as your body goes limp and docile in his arms.

Sakusa peers into your eyes in interest, humming in thought as he scrawls a few more notes in his notebook.

“The end goal of this spell is for me to be able to completely control your mind, but right now it looks like I only have control of the section that handles your physical functions if that ugly hate-filled look in your eyes is any indication. But let’s test my theory shall we?”

And it feels like a bad dream as your body submissively makes its way to his bed, seductively swaying your hips as you sprawl out on his bedsheets, eagerly wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as he joins you, bringing him down for a kiss. He’s rough and invasive as he tears your clothes off, calloused hands touching and contaminating every inch of you and you feel disgust as he examines you like you’re a piece of prime meat he’s purchased, coldly and meticulously pinching and prodding you as he observes what makes your body react. And for once, you hate how observant he is, how in tune to your smallest shifts he is, how sensitive your body is as your nipples perk up, as little moans escape past your traitorous lips when he pinpoints your weak spots.

But what you hate most is the triumphant grin on his face when his dexterous fingers swipe against your lower lips and you internally flinch at the glistening slick that coats his fingers when he holds it to your face, evidence of the heavy arousal mixing with your humiliation and hate. And you try to think of anything else, imagine you’re anywhere but here as he begins to wonder out loud while his fingers twist and turn inside of you, reaching and touching places you’d never been able to explore yourself, if he even needs to tweak his spell anymore seeing how you’re a slave to your body’s natural desire for pleasure. Maybe there wasn't a need to completely control your thoughts and emotions as well.

He hadn’t realized what a slut you are, getting off to anyone using your body, and he leers down at you while he continues questioning you, knowing full well you can’t answer or retort to his crude remarks. And he idly wonders if your mind would naturally break without additional magic if he pleasured you enough, transformed you into a warm body that constantly seeks and craves his touch.

The fear in your eyes at his words only fuels his need to completely dominate you and he grits his teeth as he slides into your drenched hole, eyes closing shut as he just stays still and revels in how tight you are, how perfectly you wrap around him. And when he opens his eyes and sees the glassy-eyed lustful look on your face from being filled, he finally releases himself from the controlled facade he so carefully always wears and lets himself dive headfirst into the sultry, dizzying, primal embrace of lust as he pistons his hips in and out of you at a brutal pace, dark eyes never straying from your face as your eyes begin to roll back and your wanton mewls fill the air.

He can feel his end approaching, but he’d be damned if he didn’t make you fall apart with him, drown you in inescapable pleasure, and his hand slips between the two of you, fingers finding your aroused clit and all it takes is a few rubs and thrusts before your body is tensing up, back arching, mouth opening in a silent scream, body convulsing and writhing underneath him, your cunt milking him as you’re forcefully brought to your peak. And he joins you over that edge, thick white spurts coating your twitching walls.

You pray that he’s done, that he’ll release you now that he’s thoroughly tasted and had you, now that you’re just sloppy seconds, used goods. But you’re startled when he lovingly kisses you and tenderly strokes your hair, and your stomach churns at the genuine affection you see in his eyes. And your heart drops, any last bit of hope you had extinguished as he holds your body close to him in a mockery of a loving embrace and whispers in your ear about the future he has planned for both of you, a future where you stay by his side as an obedient, submissive housewife, a future where you’re willing and eager to please him, to love him.

That was always his goal for the both of you, he insists, and a flame of anger burns inside of you at the exasperated and patronizing sigh he directs your way as he blames you for forcing his hands, for forcing him to do this the hard way, for forcing him to resort to magic when you could have saved everyone the hassle by just accepting his proposal all those months ago.

Hate and anger twist and coil inside of you and yet, when he kisses you once more, your body instinctively leans into the soft touch before obediently going lax as he tells you to sleep, eyes automatically closing at the command, and Sakusa smiles at your slumbering figure. It’s not exactly how he had planned to go about this, the mind control spell being more of a back-up option he had been trying to avoid, but you’re finally irrevocably his and that’s all that matters.

#yandere haikyuu #haikyuu yandere #yandere #haikyuu smut #yandere sakusa #sakusa x reader #tw: yandere #tw: rape #tw: noncon

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justxright · 4 years ago

Text

Zeke Yeager x Reader - “Traitor”

Chapter 2 - “You are Never Leaving My Grasp”

Warnings : Spoilers for season 3, physical violence and a bit of Stockholm syndrome. MINOR SMUT, involving stripping of clothing.

As the night began to creep in slowly, the more scared you became. Zeke kept staring at you as if you were a meal. As if any minute he would jump out at you and start tearing you apart like a predator would rip open its prey. The glow of the fire also didn’t help. He looked like a demon, despite you and your race technically being the “devils”.

You tried to break eye contact and just stared at the fire pit. It was beyond awkward and you peaked here and there to get a glimpse of him. You’d have to admit though he was oddly handsome, and not to mention this guy was ripped. Was he not cold?

He continued stirring around the substance in the pot before he spoke. “Hm? Like what you see?” You made the mistake of looking into his eyes again before he let out a cocky smile and pointed his finger at you.

“No-! I just, it’s cold... sorry. You’re not wearing a jacket or anything so...” you trailed off and turned away to face the dusky horizon, avoiding the rest of the conversation.

“Well I just came out of a titan, and I’ll have you know it gets quite warm in there. But I’d hate to be distracting, so if it helps...” he left for a moment to walk into one of the tents before coming out moments later with a jacket on.

You puffed up her cheeks and just looked away. So annoying and cocky ...

Zeke could only sit back and admire how cute and flustered you were. You’ve just been captured and now you’re flustered while trying desperately to survive. He’ll admit you’re holding up quite well.

“You know, out of everyone else you’re the only one that’s been cooperative.” He then shook his head and let out a sigh of exhaustion. “Poor guys, if only they had been as helpful as you I wouldn’t have pushed them off the wall.” Zeke then poured you a cup of what seemed to be tea. “But in order for you to tell me everything, I need you to stay alive.”

You took the cup into your hands as best as you could and nodded slowly. “Thank you. I’ll tell you as much as I know, and the theories us scouts currently have.” Then you slowly took a sip of the tea. It was delicious, perhaps black tea? You also tasted a hint of honey.

“Oh! And she’s polite!” Zeke applauded and let out the biggest smile on his face. “I guess not all Eldians on Paradis Island are devils.” He reached down into the box next to him and took out a small loaf of bread before placing it next to you. “What a shame some angels are born here in hell. Perhaps if you behave yourself I can take you back to my hometown across the sea where the Titans will never reach you again.”

Your eyes widened and you nearly dropped your cup of tea. So many questions ran through your mind at once. Wait take you? Hold on, did he just call you an Angel? There’s a world beyond the sea? If felt as if you lost all of your breath and the only thing you could mumble was “The sea?...”

Zeke poured himself another cup of tea and swished it around in the cup for a moment. “Yes the sea. Surely you’ve seen it. You’re a scout aren’t you?”

You shook your head in disagreement. “Well yes, but I’ve only ever seen the sea in history books. That’s if I can get my hands on one without getting arrested.”

Zeke took a sip of his now warmer tea. “Ah I see. What a shame that the world’s memories are not only stolen, but the physical copies that remain are hunted down to be destroyed.”

Memories? What memories? Taking a deep breath, you chose your next words carefully. “Yes I know. It’s a shame... I just want to know the truth.”

Zeke leaned his head onto his hand for support, his eyes never left your face. “Well, I am a man of my word. If you behave I’ll take you back to my hometown and from there you’ll know the whole truth. Plus, the Titans will never reach you again.”

Suddenly the air grew colder than it was before and chills began to dig up your spine. You took in a huge gulp of pride and swallowed it. “Yes, I’d like that very much, but please don’t hur-“ but before you could finish, Zeke interrupted. “What? Hurt you?” He scoffed and put his cup of tea down before walking over to you slowly.

He kneeled down in front of you, his dull grey eyes felt like they were staring daggers into yours, when suddenly he took both of his hands and began to pinch your cheeks, but not in a cute way. It was painful and you whimpered at the pain as your eyes began to tear up. “Then don’t give me a reason to...” he whispered coldly. “Don’t you think I know you’re saying all this bullshit just to sway me?” He growled and pinched harder. “And don’t you think I know that you’ll try and escape when you get the chance?”

It hurt so bad. It felt as if Zeke had taken two hot knifes and began digging into your cheeks.

“Please, please! Stop it hurts!” You mumbled and cried, squirming around to get away from his grasp. This only made Zeke pinch even harder. He knew for sure these would leave bruises and you knew it too. “Please what? What’s my name? Please what?” He brought you forehead right against his and looked you straight in the eyes, waiting for your response. “Please Zeke. Please stop, it hurts really bad...” you said a little more gently as your face began to litter itself with your tears.

Absolutely pathetic. You felt pathetic and ashamed. Humanity’s strongest soilders has a helpless pathetic little sister. The potential wasted away, all because she doesn’t have the guts to be brave.

“There we go... just like that.” Zeke smiled and let go of both of your cheeks, staring at your puffy face while he wipped away your tears. “Hush now, don’t cry.” He suddenly grabbed your chin and forced you to look at the edge of the wall that faced the wilderness. “You know, out of everyone I’ve captured, you’re the only one that’s been so polite. All these other girls just gave me a hard time, so I had no choice but to throw them over the wall. They wouldn’t be suitable anyways if I had taken them back home with me.”

Icy cold sweat ran down your back while your voice shivered. “I-I swear I won’t run off! Please don’t throw me off the wall!” But you wanted him to throw you off the wall and you wanted to die right then and there. You did not want to go back with him to his hometown as some sort of prize, no matter how far away you were from the Titans.

While you whimpered and cried, Zeke still admired your pretty face. The bruises on your cheeks almost immediately started showing up on your face while it also showed itself to be red and irritated. All you could wonder is why. Why you? And why had you made the stupid decision to go with him? The chances of getting to back Levi became very slim, and you began to lose hope. Sure, you were an Ackerman by name, but not by blood. You weren’t naturally skilled like Levi, you had to earn it through lots of training. And for crying out loud, you were with the beast titan. There was no way you would make it out alive without his help, not to mention you were stuck on top of the wall with this guy.

Zeke pulled your face back to him and had rested your head against his forehead. The intense eye contact was beyond horrific but it only got worse when he had leaned in and kissed your cheeks. “Don’t you worry now, I won’t throw you off these walls because I’ve made a decision.”

Paralyzed, you dared yourself to ask what that decision was with wide eyes. Zeke stared for a moment before caressing your face. “Darling, you are never leaving my grasp.”

And your heart nearly stopped as all the left over hope you had shattered into a million pieces. Everything after that became a blur and the next thing you knew is that you were in a tent right next to him. He had removed the rope around your wrist and forced you to change into a little brown sweater of his. You slipped off the belts and suspenders off of your waist and felt his eyes look you up and down. Especially after you had pulled off your uniform’s button down long sleeve. His eyes stared you up and down, and what he wanted so badly was to take you right there and claim you as his. Zeke had taken your scout cloak, brown jacket, and shirt before folding it into a corner of the tent. The only thing you had left was your white pants and brown boots.

Zeke then grabbed both of your hands and began to tie them up again, this time a little more gently. You could bet that this man was either bipolar or really harsh when it came to discipline and precautions. He held your hand in his for a moment before turning over and unzipped a sleeping bag. “Well now, I know today was harsh, but I promise you it will get better.” Zeke leaned into your legs and began to remove your boots.

You had to admit, it felt nice to have them removed. Your foot ached and so did your back. It felt like this day had gone on for years and all you wanted was to sleep. Zeke then gestured for you to crawl in the sleeping bag and you did as commanded. He then zipped you up and stared at you with the a soft smile. The first smile that you’d seen from him that wasn’t all at sinister, but genuinely kind. “Goodnight Y/n, get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow.”

Unknowingly, you smiled back and spoke softly with half of your face covered by the sleeping bag. “Goodnight Zeke...”

Zeke was beyond ecstatic that you seemed to finally obey him. The view of you comfortably relaxing in the sleeping bag seemed to make his heart race. Not only that, but the way you said his name made him want to curl up next to you and kiss you all over. But he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea after all the shock it had just put you through.

He brought out a sleeping bag next to you and crawled it. You laid on your side and faced away from him, your heart racing at a hundred miles per hour. You couldn’t even escape his scent. It was on you and he was right next to you. The smell of cigarettes and sweet honey tea filled your nose as you secretly took a whiff of the smell from his sweater. While sleepless for hours, you’ll have to admit that you were becoming accustomed to his scent.

Slowly but surely, he was getting there to make you his.

•

Meanwhile back at the inner walls, Levi panicked and furiously went through every group of soilders to find were you had gone. During the aftermath of everything the only thing he could assume was the worst. He swore to Miche that if anything were to ever happen to you, he’d rip him apart the same way he does with the Titans. Even after all of that, Levi wish he had begged you to stay instead of letting you go beyond the walls.

It wasn’t until he had snapped out of his thoughts when he had heard the man next him preaching some irrating shit he didn’t like to hear. Levi pointed a gun at the man beneath his coat and finally reminded himself of what was going on. Right, the titan in the walls Pastor Nick knew about. “There can be other ways to get information out of him...”

Hange assured him that threats and torture didn’t work on this man. Levi grew even more pissed and so badly wanted to shoot the man. Perhaps due to this inner anger that he didn’t know where you were and so badly wanted to take out his frustrations on the preacher. Eren threw a fit about how everything was backwards and so badly wanted to know how he knew about the Titans in the wall. Just like how Levi wanted to know so badly about why you hadn’t returned to him yet.

Honestly he was in no position to focus on what was going on since you had gone missing. Levi had once lost two of his closest friends and he was no where near ready to lose you. Never once had you ever came back to him late, and before Levi knew it you were gone that entire night. Until finally his worst fear came true, that the nights had suddenly become days. Days where reports of Titans were spotted within wall Rose, but there was no breach. Throughout those days of endless exploration he never found you, but he never gave you up for dead.

“Y/n... where did you go?”

Note : Thank you all so much! I’m surprised that this series had more of a demand, especially since it’s my first Attack on Titan fic. ~

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #zeke yeager #attack on titan zeke #zeke x reader #zeke x you #levi ackerman #armin alert #eren yeager #mikasa ackerman #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan zeke x reader #x reader

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