#oc: teeth in the sand

[worldruins]

Hello tumblr community here's something stupid. Featuring @bonniesband's OC.

[falindankovsky]

Franziska Novikov X Maria kain or as I call them the manipulation wives 

[sand-tower]

Something has been eating the insides of my head for a while, something hungry, hungry, hungry

[seijorhi]

invidia ii

a (very belated) christmas present for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy who has, for two years straight, begged me for more shinnosuke content. i hope you like it bby! kuroo tetsurou x female reader, kuroo shinnosuke (oc) x female reader part i w.c 3.1k tw: noncon/dubcon, slight daddy kink, (forced) infidelity, yandere themes, nsfw, smut, age gap, i guess hints of breeding kink, dilf kuroo

“Why did your parents split up?”

Mid-way through pulling on a pair of old, grey sweatpants, mopping at beads of water from his shower still rolling down his bare chest, Shinnosuke throws you a curious look, but shrugs easily enough.

“They weren’t ever really ‘together’ to begin with. They tried the whole co-parenting thing to start with but mom… they never loved each other. Hell, I don’t even think they liked each other most of the time beyond–” he breaks off, his nose wrinkling in distaste. It almost makes you laugh. “Anyway, dad always said she had one foot out the door from the start. Dad was the one who stuck around to raise me.” There’s no animosity in his tone, he says it like it’s the simple truth. You’ve never met the woman, never having shown up to any of the Nekoma games, his graduation, any of it. You’ve seen a picture or two, overheard the odd phone call, but for as long as you’ve known him, the only real parent in Shin’s life has always been his dad.

If there’s anyone he idolises, it’s his father.

 Which is why the words that he says next – casting aside the damp towel in the general direction of the laundry basket (boys) and sauntering on over to join you in bed – take you entirely by surprise. “We’ll go visit her in Golden Week. I want her to meet you.”

And again, the words are just that; words. Shin kisses you, a sweet peck on your lips, and wastes no time in scooping you back into his arms and settling back with a contented sigh. They’re just words, but there’s this look in his eyes when he says it that makes you think he means something more. 

Your stomach flutters.

—

‘You really wanna break his heart like that, kitten?’

—

“Still not feeling any better?” Shin asks, brushing your hair back to feel your forehead. The beginnings of a frown start to take shape, teeth gently burrowing into his bottom lip, but he straightens and sighs, and that hint of discontent smoothes over like it had never existed in the first place. He strokes your hair again and offers a small, sympathetic smile. “No temperature, that’s gotta be a good sign, right?”

You’re a coward.

“It’s not my head, I just…” don’t have any visible, plausible symptoms for the fake illness that’s currently keeping you curled up in Shin’s bed. Away from the creep who’d smiled and fucking winked at you Christmas morning. “I just feel off.”

“Poor baby,” he coos, laughing when your face screws up and you swat at him.

Right now, swaddled in his hoodie, his fingers carding through your hair and that stupid, impish, almost believable grin beaming down at you, you want to forget. To pretend. 

Because there’s a pit in your stomach. A bitter, gnarled, seething mass. This moment right now, in Shin’s bed, it’s like glass, paper thin and already cracked, it can’t possibly last, and yet you’re clinging to it so desperately, head buried in the sand, willing yourself to pretend, from one heartbeat to the next, that what’s happened won’t break the two of you. 

That your stomach doesn’t threaten to upend when you catch sight of those hazel eyes peering down at you – the same shape and shade as his father’s.

You shudder out a breath, and what little levity there was between you two gets sucked out with it. Shin’s expression gutters.

Yeah. 

His fingers don’t leave your hair, though. Playing idly with the strands as though the suffocating tension in the room doesn’t exist at all. “Dad’s taking us out to dinner tonight,” he tells you. Reminds you, because you knew all of this beforehand. Everything but the party. “Do you want me to run by the pharmacy to get you something?”

Another tap at the fractured glass. 

That’s Shinnosuke all over, isn’t it? You might’ve been the manager back in the day, but it was always Shin who kept an eye on his team, on you, to make sure everyone was good. 

“No,” you shake your head. “I’ll–” the words get stuck in your throat. “I’ll see how I feel in an hour or so. ‘m still a little tired.” 

“You want some tea, sweetheart?”

‘Shh, sweetheart, you gotta keep it down.’

A cold sweat breaks out on the nape of your neck. No. No, no, no, no–

“Baby?”

You flinch like he’s slapped you, jerking away from the hand he’s wound in your hair. The startled look he shoots you borders on wounded, but you’re already squirming towards the edge of the bed, stumbling to your feet like a newborn foal. “Bathroom,” you manage to eke out, your voice sounding far too strangled and hoarse to pass as anywhere near the realm of fine. 

Shin doesn’t follow, doesn’t so much as utter a word – all kicked puppy confused – as you throw the door closed behind you and collapse back against it, a sweaty, ashen mess. 

He usually calls you love. Baby. Princess when he’s being a little shit. 

Sweetheart’s a rare one. 

Your heart races, a runaway train pounding in your chest. His eyes, his touch, sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart.

Another shuddering breath in. Out. 

Fuck. 

There’s a knock – not at the ensuite door, the sound’s too muffled for that, and you didn’t hear Shin’s footsteps (though you’re not sure you would, over the pounding in your ribs) meaning that the knocking’s at his door. 

There’s only one other occupant in the house. Though you try your damndest to fight it, there’s no stopping the wave of panic that stabs through you. Shin’s door creaks open, soft voices barely creeping through the gap in the door, and your fingers go rigid, nails clawing at the black and white flooring as though you can ground yourself by breaking through it instead. 

You don’t realise you’re crying.

Not until the droplets splatter on the tiles by your feet.

—

You should’ve left days ago.

After Christmas, when you’d ducked out from under Shin’s arm and lurched for the nearest bathroom, when it’d finally clicked for him that you violently hurling your guts up wasn’t the result of a simple hangover, you’d tried. Short of admitting the truth – and swinging a bat at the bees’ nest – convincing Shin to leave his dad’s place goes about as well as drawing blood from a stone. 

He’s even less thrilled about the prospect of you going back by yourself, leaving him to spend what’s left of the week with his dad like they’d planned.

There’s only so far you can push without breaking something. You, probably. You and Shin, almost definitely. 

Even so, you might’ve had more of a backbone if he hadn’t been so… Shin. All coaxing and concerned. Logical to a damn fault. 

‘You don’t wanna be stuck in a car driving for hours when you’re feeling shitty, love, and besides, dad’s place is bigger than ours. Comfier. You’ll probably be on the mend by tomorrow anyway, so there’s no point in us heading back.’

If you weren’t trying to salvage what’s left, or maybe clinging to the idea that you can – and want to – then it would’ve been easier just to go.

You wouldn’t still be here, stuck in the house of the man who’d– who’d raped you.

You wouldn’t be avoiding your boyfriend’s eye.

You would’ve screamed the whole house down before Kuroo Tetsurou ever bent you over the kitchen counter.

But the gentle extrication in the early hours of the morning, Shinnosuke’s lips brushing against your cheek, the sleepy rasp of his voice as he mumbles a quiet, “Love you,” before slipping away – you barely stir, cozy and safe and content.

He loves you. Shin loves you. 

A while later – minutes, maybe, or hours, it’s hard to tell when you’re still in the grips of sleep – the mattress dips under Shin’s weight, and those strong, sculpted arms seek your warmth again, you only sigh and lean back against him. 

“I love you,” you whisper, not yet willing to open your eyes and face another day of lying to him. 

The arm slung over your waist curls tighter, his face nuzzling into your neck. The kisses he leaves there aren’t affectionate, exactly, they’re not gentle, when teeth catch, nipping sharply at your skin, only to be soothed by a lave of his tongue.

And the laugh that rumbles at your back – a shade off your boyfriend’s – is anything but nice. 

“Yeah? Fuck, you’re sweet in the morning.”

This time, you don’t hold back. You shriek, kicking out like a wild thing – or you would have, if Kuroo’s hand hadn’t clamped down on your mouth, if his weight hadn’t shifted so that rather than lying curled up behind you, he’s half on top of you, pinning you down to the mattress with a thigh lodged between yours. 

“Uh-uh-uh, we were doing so good, kitten. Don’t you wanna be daddy’s good girl?”

Your only answer is a ragged noise, torn from somewhere deep inside of you. He chuckles again, grinds against you, his cock a thick, unignorable presence pressed at your ass. There’s nothing but the thin cotton of your sleep shorts separating it from you, and from past experience, that barrier won’t do much to deter him for long.

Kuroo rolls you onto your back and slots himself nicely between your legs. Naked, you realise with a fresh stab of fear.

You scream the moment his palm leaves your lips to capture your wrists, scream for Shinnosuke – for anyone – so loudly that it feels like you’ll bleed for it. Let him come running, find you pinned and squirming, terrified beneath the man who raised him.

Let it be the final crack that obliterates everything. 

If Shin sees you like this, utterly petrified, on the verge of being raped again and still thinks it some kind of a betrayal, let him choke on it. You don’t care anymore, you just want someone to stop this. 

(Shin wouldn’t, would he?)

But Kuroo only snickers. Leans over to lick along the edge of your lashes, where hot, glistening tears are already spilling over, trickling down to disappear in your hairline. “Your boy’s not here, but we don’t have long ‘til he gets back. You’ll forgive me if we bypass the foreplay this morning, right, sweetheart?” You shudder, goosebumps prickling where his breath washes over you, and you squeeze your eyes shut and violently – pointlessly – shake your head. “We’ll have to save eating your pretty little cunt for next time.”

All too eager, he hungrily captures your lips again and yanks down your shorts, taking your panties along with them.

Christmas morning, you’d been shoved face down over the kitchen counter while he’d fucked you from behind. You’d give anything for that distance right now. At least then you hadn’t had to endure his suffocating warmth, having him squeeze and grope at your tits over your old, threadbare tee.

You wouldn’t have to writhe away from his mouth while he rucks your bare thighs up either side of his hips, dragging you closer.

Even with your eyes screwed tightly shut, you can’t pretend that this isn’t happening as Kuroo spits and a heartbeat later the thick head of his cock slowly – agonisingly slowly – splits you apart.

You forget how to breathe. 

Eyes popping open and back arching up into his chest, your fists clutch desperately at the sheets of Shin’s bed, trying to squirm away, only the grip he has on you makes sure there’s nowhere for you to escape to. He’s big, long, mostly, and you’re too tight to take him easily, especially without any prep. The spit doesn’t help any, and Kuroo doesn’t care, groaning out in pleasure as inch by inch he pushes himself deeper, until at last he’s seated firmly inside of you. “Good fucking giiiirl,” he purrs, a kiss pressed to the tip of your nose.

A tiny, drawn out whine is all you can manage when your lower half radiates pain. 

“Gonna fuck this perfect pussy nice ‘n full,” he tells you. “Give you everything you need, sweet girl. You can take it. I know you can, you just gotta breathe for me.”

But unlike last time, he doesn’t allow you the luxury of a minute to adjust. His hips draw back and punch forward, jolting another mewling gasp from your lips. And again. And again. The pace isn’t violent so much as intense, like each thrust ignites something inside of him that burns for more.

He clasps your wrists in one hand, pants into your open mouth between frenetic kisses, groans out your name in that shuddering gasp.

“Mine,” he pants, beads of sweat dripping from his chest, his chin, rolling down onto you. “You’re daddy’s girl– fuck!”

Your cunt reacts accordingly, flexing around his cock, easing its passage so that the wet, lurid sounds of him fucking you quickly fill the air. A betrayal that has your cheeks flaming. 

The muscles in your thighs burn, Kuroo all but forcing them back towards the bed, his weight driving into you with fervour. A quick adjustment to the angle of your hip and his cock hits a spot deep inside of you that has you choking on a moan of your own, a burst of bright, sizzling pleasure bleeding through the pain.

Kuroo grins ferally at the sound of it. Drops his weight on an elbow and bucks into you, hitting it again. Your inner walls twitch, squeezing and slick, dragging noises from you that make you wanna burn with shame – that, or cut yourself loose entirely. You can’t muster resistance when he swallows them down, sucking on your tongue, moaning into your mouth. His momentum turns rabid, his hand no longer encircling your wrists, but entangled with them, pressing them down to the mattress. “Almost… there…” he grunts, gasping as he curls over you, abs flexing.

A shudder rolls through him, his hips faltering just as something vital shatters inside of you, toes curling, white hot pleasure exploding from your core, rippling through your whole body like the aftershocks of an earthquake. With your pussy spasming around his cock, your body taut and locked with pleasure, Kuroo hurtles off that cliff right alongside you, a strangled noise somewhere between a moan and a growl escaping him as he pumps your cunt full of his seed, all but collapsing atop of you afterwards.

It takes a minute before he peels himself off of you; pushing himself up, braced on elbow so that he’s not crushing you entirely, Kuroo waits, buried inside your warmth, for you to stop trembling with the after effects of your orgasm, for his cock to soften and both of your breathing to even out. 

Waits for those glazed over eyes to focus back on him and once again fill with tears, stroking a hand through your sweat-dampened hair as he does so.

“You should go take a shower before Shin gets home,” he says after a minute or two, his voice a low purr. “He can’t be far off.”

But aside from rolling off you to allow you up, Kuroo makes no moves to follow you, or so much as get up off the bed. Naked, his cock soft and glistening with your juices, one knee propped up, he watches you stumble like a newborn foal into the bathroom (only half managing to close the door behind you) with damn near predatory intent, a smirk teasing at his lips.

It’s where Shin finds you a short while later, curled up on the floor of the shower, shaking through silent sobs. 

—

Shin doesn’t let go of your hand the entire trip home.

Uncharacteristically sober, he says little aside from the occasional murmur to check in with you – always unanswered – and keeps you tucked close, as though a fraction of distance between you might pry you from his side entirely. 

The hours pass in a haze of… nothing. Your tears dry. Numbness takes over. You move like a robot, Shin guiding you every step of the way until you cross the threshold of your apartment.

He never asks what happened. You suppose the smell of sex in his bedroom and the bruises and love bites scattered over your body tell the tale well enough. Shinnosuke’s never been stupid. He’s not dense. 

He’s not heartless, either.

In the sanctity of your tiny, shitty bathroom, you shower again. A proper shower this time, with the water turned up full blast, scrubbing viciously at your skin– or at least, you do until he steps in and takes over. You’ve never thought of your boyfriend as particularly gentle, but he pries the loofah from your hand with a delicacy you didn’t know him capable of and takes care of you, cleaning you up with a tenderness that borders on reverence.

You pretend not to notice how his eyes (so like his, sharp and hazel) narrow into a scowl every time he spots another bruise, another mark left by his father. Once or twice his fingers begin to ghost over them, burgundy fingerprints on your thigh, a love bite sucked into the delicate skin above your collarbone, only to catch himself, swallowing tightly and resuming his task like he’d never faltered in the first place. 

When you’re done, he dries you both off and helps you into fresh clothes – a pair of comfy sweatpants and an old hoodie of his and guides you back to the living room, setting you down into his lap on the couch.

“I–” his voice is hoarse. Quiet, especially in the stillness of the apartment, and when you glance his way, he awkwardly clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “I went to the pharmacy. I thought– I thought…” he trails off again, dropping his gaze. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Your heart twists, and it’s your turn to comfort him. Or maybe you’re comforting each other, shifting slightly in his lap so that you can wrap your arms around him and draw him in close, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the fresh, clean scent of him. “No. I– it wasn’t…” but the words don’t come. You flounder. 

What are you supposed to say? It wasn’t his fault? Wasn’t yours?

You should’ve said something earlier? Should’ve fought back harder – against both of them, should’ve grown a spine?

A beat passes in the tense, thick silence, and when it becomes clear that you’ve got nothing for him, he makes an odd sort of huff that sounds almost irritated. You frown a little, but you don’t fight it when his arms pull tighter around you, when his cheek comes to a rest against your hair and his hands seek yours, curling around your wrists and stroking at the skin there. 

“We’ll get through this,” he vows. “I love you, this doesn’t change anything. It won’t change anything.” His lips meet the crown of your head in a soft kiss. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”

[twst-darling]

˗ˏˋSomewhere in the Sands of Timeˎˊ˗

Pairing: (General) Lilia Vanrouge x Fem!Reader [or Fem!OC]

Summary: The spell to send you home backfires, and you land the past where you encounter one General Vanrouge.

CW: Smut [porn with very little plot, vaginal fingering, blow jobs/skull fucking, facials, degradation, snowballing, hate fucking?, spit, rough sex, use of words like whore, slight dub-con (but the reader is into it)], Language, Violence [threats of violence, threats of murder], 1st Person Point of View, Fem!Reader, AFAB!Reader, Tall!Lilia

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I initially wrote this with my OC in mind. However, it is vague enough that it can be read as a reader insert. Song title is taken from Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

Having a sword held against my throat wasn’t on my bingo card for ‘Strange Happenings in Twisted Wonderland.’ Then again, neither was a very tall, very angry Lilia Vanrouge. His hair cascaded down his back like an inky black waterfall. Rage simmered beneath his vermilion irises—a bizarre sight, given how friendly they usually were—and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would behead me, given the opportunity.

This Lilia is not my Lilia. Not yet, anyway.

This Lilia has fire in his blood and brimstone for bones. I can feel his heat radiating through the tough leather armor that covers his body. He bares his fangs, crimson eyes sharp and unyielding. Long gone is the cute upperclassman I’d come to know. 

The whole thing is rather fuzzy. One second, I was walking through a portal that was supposed to take me home. The next? I’m sprawled on the ground with a gleaming blade made of gemstones and magic thrust against my jugular. 

I can barely breathe with how Lilia’s knees dig into my ribs. It’s intentional. And though I know I shouldn’t waste my breath, I can’t help but whimper. My hands lay unbound by my head, but I dare not move them. Not even an inch.

“Your boldness is admirable, yet foolish, mortal scum. Sneaking into fae territory shall wreak nothing but the most exquisite suffering.”

“I-I didn't—”

Lilia presses forward, practically crushing my lungs. “I didn’t say you could speak.”

The edge of his sword—cleaver?—cuts into my neck, and I yelp. “Lilia, please don’t do this, we’re friends!” 

“Lies!” he hisses. “You cannot sway my mind, mortal, with your feeble magic. I hold no familiarity for you, nor shall I ever.” His lip curls, nose wrinkling as if smelling something foul. “I will take great pleasure in crushing the bones in your body until they are dust to be scattered by the wind. It seems only fitting for a human spy who has made it so far behind our barricade.” 

Oh, Sevens, he was serious. 

“Wait, wait, wait, please—!”

“Begging won’t save your life, worm.”

“Let me explain—”

“You tiresome, incompetent creature, I demand you cease this incessant—”

“—I’m from the future!”

It shouldn’t have worked, but my frantic cry made him hesitate. Maybe it was my clothes—the uniform skirt I had sewn looked out of place compared to Lilia’s armor—or my hair. Or maybe, just maybe, Lilia sensed something was off about my arrival the whole time. 

My knowledge of Lilia's time as General in Meleanor's army was limited, a vague impression left from a magic induced coma. But it was nearly impossible to deny the facts as they were shoved right in my face. (Err, against my neck?)

Somehow, Crowley's spell had backfired and not taken me back home to my dimension, but into the past.

Lilia braced his arm next to my head, his long hair forming a curtain around our faces. His nose is inches from mine, but I feel no comfort in the proximity. “Talk. Before I grow tired and find something else to occupy that mouth.”

Lilia’s thick cock rams down my throat mercilessly. I grip his thighs, allowing the fae to use my mouth as he pleases. From above, he grunted, baring his sharp teeth like a predator snarling. Globs of spit and drool dribbled past my lips and down my chin, splashing to the dirt below. The thick leather straps of his armor gave away to my nails as I dug them deep, allowing Lilia to use me as he pleased. My throat burned from the harsh, stuttering movements of his hips. He fucked my face so hard it was murderous as if he were trying to make up for not beheading me before.

Yet another stamp on that infernal bingo card—but I can’t say I hate this one.

I would have been incredibly embarrassed at my gagging noises if the burning between my legs had not taken precedence. My eyes roll back, briefly catching a glimpse of the General’s ecstasy-clouded expression. His pink lips parted in a silent gasp, gaze raised to the heavens. 

Abruptly, Lilia pulls out and begins fisting his cock. His movements are furious as he hunches over. “I’m going to smear that filthy human expression with my seed—paint you white, since I can't paint you red. Maybe I'll leave you like that, so your brethren can see your betrayal written across that pretty little face. Mmm, just like this.” 

I close my eyes just in time for thick, hot spurts of Lilia’s cum sprayed over my face. My knees trembled, and I stifled a moan between my teeth and tongue.

Lilia wasn’t done.

He pushes me, and I fall into the mossy underbrush. Lilia takes my knees and peels them apart, staring at the feeble scrap of cloth, preserving what little dignity I have left. I’m trembling again, fixated on the sheer size of Lilia’s hand as it practically swallows my thigh in his massive grip. 

“How pathetic,” he coos. Lilia drags one finger down my thigh, ghosting the hemline of my panties. “You’re drenched.” He touches the mound of my pelvis before hooking his index finger around the gusset and prying it aside. “Never have I seen a human so eager. The rest of your race would be dumbfounded to know their kinsmen loved choking on faerie cock.”

I bite my lip, a blush burning my cheeks. The cold forest air kissed my exposed skin, but I felt none of it. Only the intense searing sensation of General Vanrouge’s stare, his slitted pupils sharp like knives. His digits danced across my lips, collecting slick, teasing my poor throbbing core. 

“Ah, but you said we would be friends in this future. Pupils.” Lilia snickers, brushing against my clit. “Perhaps it’s not so strange after all. Perhaps you let me have my way with you as much as I’d like—like the sweet, foolish girl you are.”

Lilia crawled up my body, reminiscent of the one he’d had me at not so long ago. Only, this time, I didn’t need a sword to my neck to keep me in place. Lilia sunk two fingers knuckle-deep inside my pussy, abating that hollow feeling inside. 

“General,” I moan.

He chuckles again and licks a broad stripe across my cheek. He surges forward, curling his fingers at the same instant our lips meet. My mouth opens, but Lilia swallows the cry. He snaked his tongue into my mouth, pushing a copious amount of his cum for me to taste. It passes between us until I swallow it, painfully aware of every second it seeps down my insides. He pulls away too soon, but not before spitting on me for good measure. It lands in my mouth, still agape and from panting. 

“Such a cute, little faerie whore. It’s almost endearing.” Lilia spreads the fingers he’s buried inside my cunt, and it’s magnificent. He’s so deep, his slender digits pressing into spots I could never dream of touching. “I ought to fuck you open, now. That’s what you want, isn’t it, pretty one? I can only imagine how this hot little hole of yours will squeeze me.” Lilia slips his fingers from my cunt, only to deliver a sharp smack to my clit. “If there’s one thing that comes from your hellish future, I’m glad to know I shall have a tight cunt to warm me, even if it is a human’s.”

I could correct him. I probably should. But the instant his swollen cockhead breaches my pussy, all coherent thought dissipates into a lusty puff of smoke.

I'll never be able to look Lilia in the eye again if I ever get back.

[themareverine]

Toy Soldiers | part one | worst!wolverine x namelessfem!OC

synopsis: He was just a one of those fast food kid’s meal toys from 1993—key word, was. now he’s Hugh Jackman incarnate, standing in the master bedroom of her midwestern apartment, lost in time and infinity. she’s gotta get him back to his world, where he’s the worst Wolverine, where he belongs—or, maybe not?

warnings: Indian in the Cupboard themes (iykyk), fluff, AU, not entirely sure what else at this point, nameless!femOC with blue eyes could be interpreted as reader, mentions of a best friend named Rose, etc, literally based on this silly little toy I rescued and now have crafted extensive lore for.

a/n: i didn't ask for this to become a multi-chapter thing. i really didn't, ok? this got away from me, but i really love these two so much already. this was fun to write, and she's a fun character to develop. worst!wolverine is just occupying too much brain space.

MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

Dreaming in color is a pro, when you weigh it against the cons—usually.

She’d been dreaming in movie-like quality since she was a kid, could pinpoint almost to the exact timespace when she first realized her dreams were akin to Hollywood flicks roving about her brain like Spielberg classics.

She’d been six, maybe seven. A hopeless crush on Wednesday night’s Steve Irwin had somehow twisted the innocent power of her brain—the only, almost divine dreamstate visit to Australia she’d ever taken. Still she can taste the hot air, thick with sweat and arid desert, from the back of an obscure Land Rover, jostled and bouncing along forgotten roads and who-knows trails. Eyeballing open sky and endless outback sands, the Crocodile Hunter and his darling wife, Terri, vivid imaginations to a childhood fantasy yet, mostly, unlived. 

And ever since this God-granted, she’d always assumed it was a gift and thus titled it so, she’d been dreaming vividly most of the last twenty four years. Forgetting her dreams was the exception, black and white—unheard of. Tasting, speaking, reading, touch was wrapped up in REM and weighted blankets, vicarious life she’d never, really, lived in her waking moments—everything from the supernatural to gut-wrenching. Martial bliss and familial tragedy. Combat she could only ever hope wasn’t accurate. Fame and fortune. R rated filmstrips that left her stomach light and fluttery every morning, promptly, at 4:45—alarm shrieking in her ear, viscerally ripping her back to the land of the living with frothing teeth, the Greatest Showman custom alarm all but a slap in the face.  

It’s, as usual, dark when the numbers on her phone roll over to 4:45—sucked out of a dream like the vacuum of space itself lays claim to her soul, her eyes flutter open heavily to stare at the alarm. Hugh Jackman would never be so unwelcome as he is now, blaring from little iPhone speakers—she manages to lift a noodle-esque arm to slap at the noise hanging out in the darkness around the vicinity of her nightstand. 

Fingers locate the smooth screen, swipe away the prompt for snooze. Roll over. Hand over her eyes—it’s Saturday The day after Friday, her first day alone all week. World beyond is closed away behind walls and empty schedules, priorities otherwise left-fielded for such days as this.  

Warmth simmers beneath heavy weighted covers, trapped against her body. Clawing up through her mattress, threatening to pull her back into oblivion. Pharaoh’s hadn’t been so mummified, entombed as she is now, but that’s the beauty of a queen mattress left unshared—solidarity. Armies only wish they held such control over real estate as she did these sheets, this bed frame—very little could remove her from the ecstasy that is this Eden, the one place that did not require compliance, performance, untenable perfection.

Here she could rot for hours, engage in adventure that the earth would never understand—that man would jeer. 

Heaving a sigh melts her deeper into her astronaut-designed mattress, stomach suddenly flatter than it’s ever been as gently fingers tease at the strip of skin exposed. Back arching, stirring nearly-paralyzed muscle. Toes skip over warm satin sheets as she navigates to her side, arm tucking beneath her pillow. Drawing blankets to her chin, another deep breath closes her eyes, shuts off her brain—all but ready to return to dreamstate, the screen on her phone illuminates again—diiiiing.

Light explodes, lighting up the area of her nightstand just enough to give purpose to her surroundings. 

Nose scrunching in an effort to unhear and forget the notification, her eyes slowly pull open as she considers the phone. It’s her best friend, she knows it is—Rose is up early. All the time. Taking care of her little family at the base of the Teton mountains, as if this is Little House on the Prairie and such things were the norm.

Her inability to ignore anything from Rose props her up on an elbow, has her reaching for her phone—thumbs the passcodes. Opens the text, eyes scanning the message from last night. 

It’s a photo message. She’d sent it last night, proudly showing off the latest addition to her childhood nostalgia collection—a thrift store find, the little McDonald’s toy is hardly noteworthy. Scuffed and worn, it had seen adventures, surely, in its pre-her-possession life. Surprise had knocked her between the eyes like a stone when she’d managed to spy 1993 printed on the little action hero’s foot, in barely-there legalese. 

At thirty-one years old, one may have expected the little five-cent made-in-Taiwan to end up in the landfill, rotting alongside near-radioactive diapers or kill-the-turtles plastic straws.

Nope, not this one—Marvel’s very own little Wolverine. Dolled up in a cute little sci-fi bronze suit, ready for a fight. Retractable claws, the hardly-scuffed cowl, a proud encircled X in all its glory—wrapped up in a little sandwich baggie marked down at the thrift. She’d almost felt sorry for him in that cute aggressive way. 

And almost giddy at the fluke cocktail of age and condition, she’d pocketed the little guy. A pleased smile, her very own little Wolvie nestled in the leathers of her jacket, then the bottom of her purse. He’d adventured to work with her accidentally on Friday, plastic eyes watching her pass the time at the office from his little perch beside her keyboard and Starbucks. Almost had forgotten him, poor thing—he’d landed on her nightstand among the other needs-put-away items for the weekend, proudly standing in his posed little battle stance.

All he needed was matching Sabretooth, maybe Magneto, and he’d be good to go. 

Looky who came home with *me*, shot over to Rose with a little thrill, a Snapchat-like photo of him perched alongside her night cream and phone charger. More of a proud sentinel guarding her bedside table than anything, she’d regarded him playfully, like a child—had told him to close his eyes when she’d undressed. Had asked him about a movie to watch in bed as she managed hip-opening exercises, relaxing breathing techniques. All but kissed him goodnight, promising to get him settled among her other collectable childhood wonders in the morning.

After coffee and cardio, wouldn’t Hugh be proud. 

Rose’s LOL text all but smiles back at her, and she’s a little cross-eyed from the brightness of her phone. It improves when her eyes skate away from the phone, to the little Wolverine—wait.

Brow furrowing, his absence from the nightstand sparks more panic than she’d be willing to admit in therapy—she bends over the side of her bed, fingertips skating the floor in search of her little plastic wonder. Nothing but plush carpet, abandoned laundry she’d failed to relocate to her drawers—her phone slips from her hand as she hauls herself over the bedside, to peer beneath.

It’s dark, duh, and she fumbles upside-down with the flashlight on her phone. Sun levels of intense light, she makes arching passes beneath her bed, but no dice. Nada. Zilch–zippo on the Wolverine toy. 

“Well this is just a little ridiculous,” her mumble rolls off a dry tongue, from messy hair as she works herself back up from hanging over the bedside. 

Forcing off her weighted blankets has never felt more urgent, importance spiking her blood with ill-placed adrenaline she doesn’t understand—why she cares so much about a little three-decade-old McDonald’s toy she’ll never understand, but the thought of him lost in the abyss of her house is more unsettling, again, than she’d admit in therapy.

Legs swinging over the bed, she plucks her glasses from the tray on her nightstand, grabbing for the light robe dragging the floor from one of the nightstand’s knobs. 

Wrestling a steer would’ve been easier than un-inside-outing the garment, still hazy and half-asleep and wholly uncaffeinated, but she manages. Another scout under her bed reveals that, no, little Wolvie isn’t among the dust bunnies and lint of her carpeted under-bed floor.

Brow furrowing, her glasses slip down her nose as she hauls herself back to her feet, sleep-stiff muscles protesting as she massages the back of her neck. 

Hands on her hips, she reaches for her phone. “Had I known you had teleportation powers, little Lo, I’d have sold you off to NASA—come on,” Triggering the flashlight on her phone again, she dives to check between the headboard and mattress, to see if her Logan lookalike decided to magically dive headfirst into the almost-abyss—

“—you make a habit of talkin’ to open air, girlie?” 

Two things happen immediately in her body. 

First. Alarm jumps up in her chest like a devil, deep claws sinking into the meat of her chest only to rip away any sense of safety taking up residence behind her ribs, in her bones. Heart forgetting to throb, blood all but stands still in her veins, asystole in her arteries—she can feel the lining of her stomach twist into a viper-like coil so cold, she fears frostbite has set into her organs.

Fear knocks hard on the door of her sternum, ripping the wind from her lungs. Terror opens up her vocal cords and bludgeons a song from her throat, but it’s so dry in her apartment that the fleshy membranes of her mouth have all but become cragged Sahara sands. Tongue swelling to the size of her fist, she fears she’ll choke on it. Forces it against the back of her bottom teeth, jaw clenching with enough force to break open the world. 

Legs somehow managing to propel her up onto her mattress, across the bed, to the farthest corner of the space. Cold sweat raises to a dance across her skin, satin sleeping pants clinging to the flesh of her thighs as sapphire eyes attack the figure cutting through the threshold of her door—hands low and open, in placating surrender.

Brow furrowed with canyon deep lines, dark eyes flick over her frame as she takes a step back for each of the ones he cautiously makes into the room. Invading her privacy, an unwelcome intruder. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” early morning gravels his words, which hang low in baritones not at all unfamiliar, “‘m not gonna hurt you. You breathin’ ok?” Genuine concern passes through his eyes, deep and alive, but—not in a bright way. The corner of his lip tips up, “Don’t mean to scare ya, pretty.” 

Pretty? Sweetheart? Who the hell is this—?

Any familiarity his face holds is lost to the bite of adrenaline, slavering teeth trenching into the back of her brain. Seeming to lap at the spinal fluid all but bubbling down the length of her back. Chest heaving with effort, she fears her ribs might break. Cardiac muscle behind her chest bones all but explodes with every heavy heartbeat, reminding her to stay alive. That she, still, is living. 

Stomach sour, twisting like corded steel, she lunges for the foot of her bed—snatched the first thing she can retrieve. Face all but a blazing inferno of heat, nails all but pike into the soft plush of a stuffed animal. Her favorite. Or, rather, was—now little more than a weapon, it stands between her and the invasion like a fortress. 

“What the hell are you doing here,”she challenges, taking a half step back. Memories of kickboxing classes, somewhere in her youth, escape through the fingers of memories in the back of her head. More boxing posture than anything, she lifts her arms to chin level. Fingers tear into the stuffie like it’s a lifeline, like it’s protection. And for now, it is. 

Not giving him the chance to answer, his mouth hangs open in muted response, “This is my apartment—you can either leave or I’ll–I’ll forcibly remove you.” It would take a 911 call—it would mean grabbing her phone from the nightstand, punching the emergency button, and staying away from him during response time. All unlikely, given proximity. The size of the apartment. How he blocks the only damn exit with his huge-ass frame. 

Jaw snapping closed, a thick brow pops up. He chuckles. He think this is funny, “Whoa, take it easy, bub—” 

“—shut up! Stop talking!” Pointing a strong finger at him, she shuffles back on light feet. Bobbing as best she can, trying to appear light. Prepared. But everything in every manual in the world wouldn’t have prepared her for home invasion—all those home defense classes. The hours shooting clays and targets with her father. Worthless. 

I am so going to die. 

Another step into her sanctuary, holy of holies. “Quit moving, damnit!” 

The stranger stops mid-stride, brows arched in surprise at her tone of voice. Squinched nose, and tightly shut eyes add to what must be a comical look on her face. Coupled with crimson cheeks and the shake setting into her hands, she surely looks—well. A sight, if little else.

Realizing nothing short of an eternity has lapsed in the cool peace and blissfully ignorant darkness of closed eyes, hers pop open. She watches has near-pawlike hands, mapped with raised veins and pronounced callous, drop to his sides for all of a minute. Her heart cuts against her ribs like an ax laid to roots, willing to break something loose—he chuckles. Laughs. Some faraway light catches the darkness of his eyes, brightens his face in a way that only ever seemed so Hollywood, but is now real. 

And he laughs with his entire body for all of a few seconds, wrinkles at either side of his eyes deepening into canyons that seem to fill with his amusement, at her expense.Mind short circuiting, her toes curl into the carpet, calluses on her heels catching frayed fibers as she does her best, again, to stay light on her feet. Nothing about her is light, certainly, and she attempts to calculate distance, how many seconds it would take her launch her body forward, toward the door. Past him, into the corridor, out the front door.

 HIs hand extends, palm up. Waving her forward, as if she were some thing to beckon—

—until her stuffie chucks directly at his face, a blur of hot-pink fur and fluff. 

The moment she arched her arm and sent Mr. Hearts on his first-ever attempt of flight, her feet springboard off the carpet, launching her forward at a speed she never thought possible. Adrenaline jumpstarts every one of her cells, lacing through her veins like rocket fuel—and the world spins by in a blur of color, her chest racked with pain as her heart racehorses behind bones that are no less than temperatures akin to magma. 

Tunnel vision blocks out the world, save the nearly sparkling promise of the room’s exit. Tears bubble up on her lash line, hot and intruders on any clarity of brainspace she’s trying to will forward. Hot, breathy fear closes her throat, nothing but blood rivers through her ears—nothing except the ache of her throbbing heart, the painful push and pull of her lungs expanding and retracting. 

They say hearing is the last thing to go when your soul begins to fade into death, but it’s a lie—she can’t hear a damn thing. And she’s more than alive.

Missing completely the soft snikt!, the what-would-usually-be unmissable split of skin, there’s a muffled tearing of fabric as once beloved Mr. Hearts suddenly becomes two halves of himself. Puffy stuffing explodes into the air, faintly she can feel her beloved stuffed animal hit the floor mutedly. In some back door of her brain she knows what’s happened, but survival carries her feet—pumps her arms. Zeroes her gaze on the door, blocks out anything other than the gut instinct to run, run, run hard. 

Finger reach to grab the doorway, hurl herself around the corner—but it’s too late. Electric movement snaps through the air, a microsecond passes before a thick, heavy arm catches her around her waist. Hauls her backward, sucks her from the door like something from  Star Wars, the world spinning by in a Picasso of color and tears as she’s manhandled, forced back. Kicking her feet into the air, she wills him to break, throwing her body mass back, against him. Arches her back. Wrangles and claws at the hair on his arm, the muscle that is taught against her rebellion.  

Throat splitting with a shriek, she’s silenced when his enormous palm claps hard over her mouth. It feels like centuries have passed, but in reality, it’s been seconds. Breaths and heartbeats. Tears trailblaze hot down her face, her throat all but reverberating with sobs. Body heat wraps around her, butter down her spine as the arm around her middle pulls her tighter. Closer. Keep your enemies close—

And he’s tall, legs anchored behind her. Like a brick house. Snot begins to empty her sinuses in a slick, sticky mess. Her mouth attempts to open behind the palm of his hand,all saliva and spit. Doesn’t seem to do much. Digging her heels into the floor, her foot skims the floor. Looks for one of his. Finding it, she slams her heel against would-be soft bones, and he hisses. Grunts like an animal.

“Knock it off,” his baritone rumbles, a dangerous growl over her ear, “not here to hurt you, darlin’.” A lie. She doesn’t believe him, digs her heels farther into the soft flesh of his feet. Buries her nails into his muscle, the soft flesh of that tender spot under the wrist. Veins, lots of blood there. 

Something obscene slips past his lips. Fighting back more stinging tears, his fingers curl around her wrist bruisingly, and with herculean strength, he whips her about-face, suddenly chest-to-chest with her as his fingers fist in her hair. Pulls sharply, “fuckin’ hell—calm the fuck down,” his fingers fall from her hair, instead grab her chin with an almost bruising grip, “stop bawlin’, for Christssake,” 

Her nails milk as they dig into his wrist, deep red lines canyon the hand holding her face with a patience lost to most members of his sex. Hard, dark eyes hold hers with a fierceness that numbs her intestinal tract. For a moment, an arctic swirl is born and dies in his gaze, resurrected instead a hint of grief and—empathy, maybe. A lostness she can’t describe. Confusion punches lines between his knitted brows, etching deep into ruddy, masculine features a kind of unwordly handsome, had he not been sent to kill her. 

Oh God, please—Shaking, her eyes pinch closed again, unwilling to let him see any more of her soul. More snot and tears, saliva pearls between the seam of her lips as she tries, and fails, not to blubber. Knees buckle. Hangs there, full weight of her body supported on her chin between his fingers, jaw suddenly alive with inferno pain. It lasts seconds before he lets her go, and she sinks to the floor, slackdoll and sobbing. Staring across the floor, her cheek burns against the harsh fibers of the floor. 

Her belt. Abandoned, on the floor last night after a work dinner. It’s the only thing, and her brain conjures images of just exactly how she’d use it, suddenly Jackie Chan or GI Jane or some shit she’s seen a thousand times on film, has never executed. Hiccuping in short breaths between sniffles and sobs, tears leak into the carpet off her cheek. Her heart pumps blood that may as well pool into her chest, leak between the cracks in her confidence. 

Stepping back, he looks at her. A cocktail of surprise and irritated, he sinks to a crouch. Shakes off red marks that still linger on his arm, wipe her snot and saliva on his-–are those yellow?-–pants. No time to notice, to care—her nails catch against the fibers of the carpet. Begin to push her bodyweight up, on an elbow. 

Unburdening a sigh, his hand scrubs his face as hers darts across floorspace. Snatching the belt with a speed she’s never fostered, he doesn’t even have time to put two and two together before the leather snaps like a whip, thick silvers from a rodeo buckle landing fully on the bone of his jaw. Cuts a deep line that flashes scarlet, rips open flesh like a fillet knife. 

“Fuck!” it’s harsh, bestial.

Reeling back, she finds time to scramble to her feet like a clumsy foal, looping the belt around her fist once as he pops tall. Backpedaling away from arm’s length, she pistons towards the door, on fire and pumping adrenaline like a sieve. 

And she flies. Out of the bedroom. Down the corridor. Somehow she manages to find her keys on the kitchen table as his heavy, earthshaking feet pump down the hall. Fumbles over her own feet at the front door, slams into it hard, bounces off. Fingers suddenly unable to communicate coherently with her brain, the chain lock on her apartment door is all but burning as she tries, and fails, to work it just so. 

“Come on, come on! Work, you piece of shit—” she’s never sworn more in her life than she has now, and it’s sour, like bile splashing up on her back teeth. But it rips from her throat all the same, bitter and hot, as she mutters fuck, fuck, fuck me! under short, airy breaths that do nothing to put oxygen back into her body. May as well be a drowning soul, the way she sucks in air. Gasps for breath. Drowning or an emphysemic. 

Ignoring the hard breathing behind her is impossible. Whirling around on the ball of her foot, he’s close enough to lock her against the door. Her head falls back hard enough to knock against the door, rattle her teeth. And as her vision begins to settle from the bouncing in her cranium, she sees the three blades bury to the knuckle—the knuckle?—in her heavy, pristine oak front door. Rattles the wall, splits the sheetrock. 

Pupils blown wide, she can feel all the blood leave her body. Terror locks her spine between slavering, hungry teeth. Gaze welded to the blood pearling from fresh wounds between white knuckles, the hinge of her jaw fails. Her mouth opens mutedly, enough for him to count her teeth if he so desired. 

And maybe he does. “Goin’ somewhere, honey,” it isn’t a question. That grin is animalistic. “Stay awhile, huh?” 

He closes in. Her head snaps forward to find him. Nose to nose, he sneers at her, and her eyes think to move to the fillet of open flesh her attack has left on his jawline—or, had. No evidence of even so much as a mark on the sharp line of his jaw, just dark facial hair and sweat that’s bubbling up on his skin, angry red that fans up his neck. Swearing to God she can see the vein in his temple throb with blood, her grip on the leather belt tightens before reality sets in. 

Ohmygod, ”You’re—” her stomach resurrects up her throat. ”—Jesus,” and it isn’t so much a curse as it is a prayer, a hope. A lifeline—grasping at straws, praying something sticks.

Reality begins to fall away, through boneless fingers. Feeling the belt slip from her control, her throat suddenly constricts to the point of oxygen deprivation. Gaping like a fish, her tongue swells to a thick cotton she can no longer feel. 

Numb—everything buzzes with that painful, white-noise needling. 

And she does the only thing her body can manage. Shoves past him just enough to upset a chair—

—-and throws up. 

still working on my taglist but: @thevoicefromanotherworld @sidkneeeee @misscrissfemmefatale @eternallyfrustratedwriter and those who showed interest: @ayamenimthiriel @pandapetals @theoreticalfreak @definitely-not-chill @ghostytoasty17 @werewolfpilar

[christinarowie332]

god i love you

chris sturniolo x reader

matt sturniolo x oc

sturniolo triplets x reader

warnings : smutty smut !!! mentions of weed and nicotine, 18+ . profanity

———

reader , maggie, and the triplets have a beach day

———-

i dig my feet deeper in the sand , feeling the warmth hug my body and the soft grains scratch my bare skin. with my fingers sprawled out over the blanket i throw my head back in comfort , feeling the warm sun kiss my face as i lean back .

the sounds of a faint mac miller song humming in the background flood my ears .waves crashing to the shore , painting the sand white with its foam . i can hear chris giggling with matt and nick desperately trying to explain himself with whatever waffle he’s spewing at this moment. mags , my bestfriend, matt’s girlfriend, just sat playing with his hair laughing with them.

in my own world , i open my eyes finally, take a puff of my vape and grab my phone from my lap . opening the camera app and snapping a photo of the scene infront of me . a clear blue sky , my four best friends, boyfriend included , all laughing , their hair being plastered across their face ; brunette and blonde waving along with the wind .

i subconsciously decide to get up and immediately strip out of my oversized t-shirt i stole from chris . a black two peice caressing my curves and hugging my waist .

“chris” i call out to him throwing the t-shirt on the blanket we all sit on , large volcanic rocks holding down the corners . ”can i have my bobble babe?”

“uh yeah of course” he says after trailing his eyes down my body , before going into his joint tin and grabbing the bobble .he keeps it for me along with two joints , a lighter , a chewing gum and a polaroid of us together in matching fresh love , laughing while we jokingly do the doggy style position . his favorite photo for obvious reasons .

maggie gets where i’m going with this and mirrors my actions from before , stripping off and putting her hair in a clip , kicking her slides off and throwing her vape and phone down on the blanket .

“woah what’s happening ? i feel like i’m about to get a lap dance or some shit” nick exclaims , fake fear plastered on his face and also getting up .

“we have been at the beach for like an hour and haven’t gone in the sea ? let’s go.” i explain , chris is on his feet taking his shirt off in what feels like a millisecond. matt follows and helps nick up .

“last one in has to buy the bud next !!!” maggie screams before darting off towards the sea , me in tow and chris and matt speeding past us .

“NOT FAIR BRO” nick screams as he starts running throwing his shirt over his head while running and trying to kick off his slides while in motion .

we all run towards the sea , chris ends up falling over face first into the soft sand . i subconsciously stop and help him up , watching him lift his face up , showing his mouth full of sand and eyes closed , mouth agape laughing in shock . i loudly laugh and grab his hand pulling him up running towards the sea again . we run hand in hand still laughing , as we watch nick pass us and matt and maggie absolutely get obliterated by a wave as the meet the sea . nick makes it next and finally stops and sees his brother , covered it sand , struggling to run while laughing and spitting out sand .

me and chris make it to the sea ,both of us mermaid style diving into the sea as soon as we thought it was deep enough .

i plunge into the water , feeling bubbles trail my face and make their way to the surface, before the head reaches the warm air , hair slicked back and salty water running down my neck .

“HOW THE FUCK DID U FALL SO BADLY”

“YOU LITERALLY ATE SAND CHRIS!”

“BAHAHAHA BRO ITS ON YOUR TEETH”

we all take a second to laugh at chris and he just wipes the sand and salt from his eyes while laughing , his shoulders jumping up and down with the movement.

chris swims over to me and hugs me from behind putting his head on my shoulder . we’re not a very affectionate cutesy couple , a specially infront of his brothers , and maggie who is basically my sister . this is very evident when i turn around in chris’s hold smiling . he melted as i put both my arms around his shoulders, interlining my fingers around his neck .

“breathe” i said smiling at him. resulting in his face dropping and confusion being painted on his face . he does as i say anyway tilting his head , before i put both my hands on his shoulders and push him under the water .

i start laughing but quickly get cut off as i feel his hands grip my legs and i am also pulled under the water . we fight under the current of the waves . i emerge from the water first , and watch chris gasp for air as he surfaces. we all laugh and start relaxing in the water .

“i wonder why the beach is so empty today?” matt asks , looking at said beach , maggie narrows her eyes to where her boyfriend is looking before speaking

“probably sharks or something” she says nonchalantly, before furrowing her eyebrows and realizing that’s not so much of a reach .

“your just gonna scare yourself mags” nick says through giggles , looking at the girl slowly move towards matt for safety .

“nah everyone’s at work and school , we have no life bro we’re the only weirdos that don’t have a job” i say before angling my head back in the water , slicking my hair back again , feeling the cold water make its way onto my forehead .

“nah we have a job , just not a boring one . content creators bro . we get paid to hangout” chris says before moving his hand around my waist under the water , pulling us closer . i smile and him and put one of my hands on the back of his neck , playing with his now wet hair .

“i wonder how deep it is here” nick says , looking down into the dark swirling water , squinting his eyes , before meeting mine and raising his eyebrows , knowing i would be the only one to go to the bottom and see .

i took a breath and used chris’s body to lower myself into the water slowly, coming back up and diving down . i squint my eyes underwater and reach the floor , not too deep , watching the clean sand rippling under our feet

while swimming back up i see a blurred chris , and decide to scare the shit out of him and smack his ass under the water , i see him jump slightly, but he finds me and drags me up by my neck gently until moving his hands to my waist and bringing me to surface . i giggle under water , bubbles following my trail upwards before meeting them all and laughing before moving to chris’s back and holding his shoulders to hold me up .

“fully thought that was a fish for a good second” chris says looking back at me to meet my goofy smile .

“how do u open your eyes in the sea bro , my eyes sting just being here” matt days to me while rubbing his eye like a child , fist curled rubbing over his eye in circles.

“i literally feel like i just pored pure salt in my eye , that was a big mistake” i say laughing , rubbing my eyes like matt just was .

maggie lies down on top of the water , matt holds her and runs his hand through her hair .

we stay like that for a while . chris and i giving each other small affectionate touches , laughing and talking with nick. matt and maggie in their own little world .

“dude , do u know when u were younger did u ever like , when u were like seven like i used to like ….. no probably older then that just like i thought i was like really good at swimming and i was like kinda okay but like really i was…..” chris explains , making the entire group stare at him in confusion, before looking at each other , trying to see if anyone understands a word he’s saying .

“like i was pretty really okay but like when i would swim i like was good ….. WOW”

we all erupted into laughter at chris , him immediately getting embarrassed but also laughing, pulling me closer again and placing a small kiss to my forehead ,turning me around to hug me from behind .

“i’m gonna go back i’m freezing and i want my vape” maggie says before doggy paddling away , causing me and chris to giggle

“i’ll come too” matt says grabbing onto her legs and pulling him closer to her

“me too , i feel like i’m gonna get a cold this water is fucking freezing” nick says following behind matt and maggie , leaving me and chris in the water .

“i’m staying , i wanna chill in here longer” chris says looking towards me and smiling

i hum in agreement and swim towards him , wrapping my legs around his waist and putting my arms around his neck .

“hi” he says smiling leaning towards me .

his lips meet mine , the taste of salt lingering in my mouth as i kiss him , the cut on my lip stings but i barely feel it , relishing in chris’s hand moving up and down my thigh .

i pull away “hi” i say before placing another peck on his lips quickly. i put my palm flat on his back to stabilise myself while i run my hand through his hair , pushing his dark curls away from his face .

i put both my hands on the back of his neck and pull him towards me , attaching my lips onto his once again , one of his hands moves to my ass , lifting and squeezing it in one motion , causing me to gasp slightly and open my lips giving his tongue access to mine.

i move my hips on his , causing him to moan slightly into the kiss . i could feel him growing , my core pressed against his , grinding against him .

“chris” i moaned out , digging my painted nails into his back , clawing his shoulders leaving red lines over his muscles.

he grabbed my hand and put my palm over his hardened dick , looking into my eyes saying exactly what i needed to hear .

he pulled his shorts down , then pulled my bikini bottoms down , raising his eyebrows to get my consent he needed .

a nod of my head is all he needed , before lifting me onto him , throwing his head back in pleasure. my face burrows into his neck biting down at the feeling of him inside , leaving a mark where my mouth had been.

we moved together under water , him lifting me , me rolling my hips to the pattern i knew he liked after lots of practice over the year , moaning each other names through sloppy kisses .

after a couple of minutes we both can feel the knot slowly unraveling , thrusts getting sloppy and messy .

“y/n” he whimpered out before getting cut off by me loudly moaning into his neck

“i know chris , me too” i said before clenching around him and moaning loudly against his skin , throwing my head back in pleasure before feeling him release into me .

we both laugh and kiss each other messily , coming down from our high together .

“god i love you y/n” chris says out of breath into my neck as we both embrace each other , him still inside of me under the salty waves .

“i love you too chris” is all i got out before re-attaching our lips in a perfectly paced kiss .

———

milkie talks :

i have had a awful amount of alcohol so i don’t even know if this makes sense .

love u all . 🍼🤍

tag list :

@mangosrar @sturnphilia @soursturniolo @biimpanicking @sssturniolofart @littlebookworm803 @lividnity @deatthmatch @daddyslilchickenfingers @parkerssecrets @urmyslxt

[emilykaldwen]

High in the Halls

Ship: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (OC) Written for the @hotd-bigbang

Rating: Mature

Summary: Aegon Targaryen, the last true Valyrian Warlord, rattles at the machinations of his mother who tries to play Andal politics when he wants nothing more than to be left alone. A chance meeting of a maiden in distress in the Riverlands changes everything.

AKA the Old Valyria AU!

Notes: This is chapter one! Of what will probably be two chapters? I just didn't have the time to finish this, I'm so sorry.

Art by: @the-common-cowgirl / Beta: @vampire-exgirlfriend

Read on AO3

Author's Note: It's the old Valyria AU I've been hinting at for ages! It was a rough summer y'all, and this thing got finished while I was dying from Bronchitis (but before I got Covid) so I wasn't able to finish it. But this is absolutely a universe I want to have fun in and play with from time to time. I hope you enjoy it with me!

Sunfyre’s scream pierced the air, sending seagulls frantically fleeing from the battlements of Dragonstone, crying out as they took to the sky in an explosion of gray and white. The deep pink frills along the back of the dragon’s neck stood high, his head rearing back, snout vivid and wet with the blood of the sea beast he had dragged ashore for him and little Dreamfyre to feast on. His little sister’s dragon was twice the size of a horse, and the dead beast was at least two of her. The pair of them crouched around the great beast on the black sand beach, the waves crashing and little flits of multi-colored light caught in the air every time they broke against the rock of the harsh inlet.

Syrax hissed in response, her head rearing back in offense at being denied, but she eventually turned away, for Sunfyre was twice her size, and the smaller dragon was no match.

Aegon’s half-sister, on the other hand…

“Where is father?”

Aegon tilted his head, looking over his shoulder to where Rhaenyra, stood in the archway that led down to the stables. Her long, silver hair was tied back in a thick braid that fell to her waist, woven with charms that tinkled when she turned her head. The harshness of the style made her look more like Lord Viserys than her own mother, Lady Aemma, whose features were soft like his own mother.

He stayed silent, dragging his thumbnail along the near imperceptible groove of the stonework he leaned against. Did she think he was a servant? Did she think they were as close as their sire liked to pretend they were?

She arched her brows when he didn’t answer, her black boot tapping on the black stone. Before Aegon could open his mouth, there was movement behind Rhaenyra, heavily accented Valyrian answering for him.

“Helaena had another dream last night.” Lady Alicent met Rhaenyra’s eyes as she approached, silent maidens swathed in red following her. She was father’s second wife, taken in marriage when Lady Aemma could bear no more children. Even after all these years, she wore her long green gowns in the style of the continent: square necked and deep sleeved, a heavy, gold chain looped about her waist, her auburn curls held back a net of onyx and emeralds. Next to Rhaenyra in her dark gray riding leathers chased with crimson, Aegon thought his mother looked like a queen.

Rhaenyra ran her tongue over her teeth behind her lips, nodding curtly, and spun away with a swing of her long hair and vanished into the stronghold, vengeful and beautiful in the low light. Helaena’s dreams had changed fate for their family and Aegon did not know if it were better or worse. Some days, in the black of night, he wished he had gone down with the rest of their people in ash and flame. Others, he relished the freedom from politics that had plagued his earliest years. The fearful whispers of assassins, the way Uncle Daemon raged that they did not need to taint their blood to gain the Hightower gold—these things haunted him.

Mother pursed her lips, watching Lady Rhaenyra leave before her large, dark eyes met his.

“You cannot hide from me forever,” she told him in the common tongue. Aegon scoffed and looked back out at the rocky outcropping below where Sunfyre and Dreamfyre continued to devour the salt beast. He didn’t move as she approached, startling only a little when her hand combed through his shoulder length curls. “We must talk about this.”

“Must we?” he snipped, refusing to look at his mother. He kicked the toe of his boot against the stone and resisted crossing his arms to rest his head against them like a petulant child. Aegon was, in fact, acting a little like a petulant child, but he’d grown exhausted of the conversation that had circled for the past three years. “Go speak with Aemond about it. He’ll be more than glad to cross blades with Daemon and Rhaenyra- ow!”

His mother pinched and pulled at his ear to pull his face towards her and Aegon jerked from her grasp instinctively. Alicent Hightower’s lovely features were severe, delicate brows furrowed, pouty mouth pressed into a firm line.

“You are Viserys’ eldest son.”

“And Valyrian law dictates that Daemon inherits as his dragon is older-”

“Valyria is gone,” Alicent spat, her voice grating like the screech of kitlings or claws against stone. “If by chance you’d forgotten in your cups of strongwine, foolish boy. Valyria is gone, to fire and ash these past three years. Their laws of inheritance do not matter. The custom here, Aegon, is that of the eldest son. Sons before sisters, and all before uncles.”

“Then disown me,” Aegon snapped, pulling from his mother’s grasp before she could claw at him further. “Aemond will become your eldest and he shall eagerly fight with Helaena at his side. She could present it as a vision: Aemond inheriting Dragonstone with their children to carry his legacy on.” He clapped his hands together, smiling, although the gesture held no true joy. His smiles rarely did.

Aemond would relish at the opportunity to prove himself, to be more than what his position allowed him. Ever since their first son, Maelor, had been born, his younger brother had strutted about, speaking of his virility, dangling his son, and then soon after, their daughter, Daenys, in front of their father who so loved his grandchildren. Filling the hole that Rhaenyra left when her new family moved out of the fortress to the island of Driftmark, Viserys had indulged his grandchildren and Helaena was expecting her third soon.

The space between them grew as his mother drew back, her mouth pinched so tight that her lips had gone pale. Aegon loathed the way her gaze scraped at his insides and he resisted wrapping his arms around himself protectively, instead focusing on maintaining his languid, distant posture. To show weakness within the obsidian halls of Dragonstone was to be a death sentence. His mother was not of Old Valyria, but of these strange shores that he was more familiar with than the Freehold. She chafed at the ‘strange customs’, sick at the prospect of her children intermarrying with one another to keep their Valyrian blood pure. She misliked his lack of ambition, or how he preferred to spend his time in the brothel in the little fishing village while Lord Viserys lamented not being able to introduce him to the Ruby Palace and the most divine pleasure slaves the Freehold could have offered.

Lady Aemma misliked his father speaking so, although she was better at hiding her frustrations with her tender, tired smiles. His mother also did not care for the time Aegon spent in Lady Aemma’s solar, where they indulged in honey cakes together and she expected nothing from him, letting him lay his head in her lap while she combed her fingers through his hair when his mother’s anxieties turned her vicious.

If his own mother despised so much of him, then why was she so insistent to have him named heir?

“Aegon.”

He could not bear the anguish in his mother’s voice or on her soft features; the way it coalesced with the frustration like how the blood from the carcass on the beach turned the foaming ocean surf as pink as Sunfyre’s wings. Her shoulders that had bowed in on herself straightened, her breathing evening, and her delicate hands smoothed along the richness of her gown. “We will not indulge in such foolish things,” she said with an abrupt shake of her head. “You will be married at the end of the season.”

It felt like she’d punched him in the throat, the air rushing from him like a wheezing carcass. “I have no sisters to marry,” he rasped out, the blood rushing in his ears. Sunfyre’s call from below was a questioning one, and he saw his dragon lift his bloody face to peer up at him.

“One of the River Kings has need of a son in law,” she explained. “He is well known to our family, with only a daughter and the other river kings are circling. In exchange for you to protect his holding and claim his title upon his death, he will ensure that his armies are yours when the time comes.” She sniffed, twisting the ring on her right hand. “Which will be sooner, I think, than we all expect.”

Well known to their family? The Hightowers. The power that family held was ancient and worthy enough of Valyria, their origins a tightly guarded secret, but his father had said the Hightower blood was a special thing, and how lucky he’d been to snap up the daughter of so much power.

Aegon felt strangled and overheated, a pain coursing through his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “Does he know?” There was something guttural and full of warning running through Aegon’s words, and it vibrated through him. For a moment, he thought he tasted salt and metal, satiating and repugnant along his tongue, and he spat on the ground to rid himself of the taste of his dragon’s kill.

She sniffed again. “He has allowed me freedom to do with my other two children as I please, and Daeron is eager to become a Maester and not claim a dragon for himself. He will serve you well when his education is completed.”

Something cool and wet slapped against Aegon’s cheek and he blinked, tilting his head up as a fine rain began to fall. His mother hurried back inside, arms wrapped around herself, but Aegon ignored her insistent call to follow him. He stood there letting the rain hit his too hot, too tight skin, wondering if it would sizzle the way it sizzled against the dragons. A fine hiss of steam had surrounded Sunfyre as he continued to eat, Dreamfyre tucked beneath his wing, protecting her in the ways that Aegon was unable to protect Helaena himself.

Of course Daeron didn’t want a dragon. He knew nothing else but what he learned of on the ground.

“You’d barter me to some little king for the power of my dragon!” Aegon shouted, his voice heavy with rage, an anger that he’d rarely let loose coming to the forefront like the storm surge. The heat in his throat was a dragon’s flame - he’d spit fire if he could.

Rage was Aemond’s domain, was Rhaenyra’s, was Daemon’s. But Aegon was just as fearsome when he chose to be.

“Aegon-”

“You had no right!” His hands ached for something to throw, to bend and break and shoving over the brazier on his way inside would have to suffice. The coals hissed and bounced along the stone, the metal clanging loudly along the ground. Mother jerked away at the sound like something skittish, a doe perhaps, or a mourning dove, dark eyes wide at the display. Perhaps she did have reasons to mislike him. “You had no fucking right. Daeron, you can barter around, but I, in case you’ve forgotten, am a Warlord. My mount is not some overgrown horse, but fire incarnate, and should I ever so choose, I could turn your precious Oldtown to ash, and the rest of this land if the whim took me.” His nostrils flared as he breathed, wishing he could snag his mother and shake her until sense rattled in her head once more.

But she misliked him enough that he didn’t, the notion settling like a stone in his gut as he skirted her and followed the ghost of his elder sister. Mother shouted his name, but he ignored her, striding down the dim corridors that snaked through the fortress. Torchlight illuminated the slick walls and made the obsidian shine like some living, slimy thing.

Trilling, melodious and haunting, echoed down the corridor, but Aegon could hear the shifting in Sunfyre’s tone. ‘Bite? Attack?’ the sound seemed to question. The Dragonkeepers along the dock gripped their pikes, shouting for Sunfyre to settle, to calm, but the golden dragon would have none of it. He called, concerned, and it grated and echoed along the cave that housed the stable, boiling saliva and blood dripping from his maw and onto the black stone. Another cry shook dust from stone as Sunfyre made as if he were to scramble his bulk up onto the dock. The Dragonkeepers shouted once more, Keeper Arrax looking at him imploringly.

Aegon met his gaze briefly before approaching, tugging his riding gloves on from his pockets. “Lykirī!” he called up to him, but there was little command in the words. Sunfyre rumbled low in his throat, eyes flicking above Aegon and past him for whomever had caused such upset within his rider. It was only as Aegon lifted a hand to his bloody maw to scratch gently along his nostril, did Sunfyre relax, albeit with extreme annoyance at not having anything to attack.

The dragon snorted and settled, lowering himself enough that Aegon could make his way up the curve of his wing to the saddle. There were no words exchanged. None were needed. Him and Sunfyre were as one; the envy of the last Dragonlords.

The further west Aegon flew, the lighter the clouds became. There was something deeper within that, he was sure, and he could only imagine what poetic waxings his father would engage in had Aegon asked. Aemond would huff and let out the most annoyed of sighs and simply say, ‘Clouds move, you nitwit,’ and whatever obscure and esoteric insults from the books in their father’s library.

The breaking of the clouds revealed the lush green of what his mother’s people called the Riverlands. He’d flown over Crackclaw point and up the river that flowed into the Bay of Crabs, the great mountains of the Vale majestic and snow capped in the distance. The rolling green hills and dense forests were cut through with snaking slashes of blue and marked with weirwoods like drops of blood unfolded beneath him, a tapestry of a world he did not understand. His memories of the Freehold were fuzzy. The villa they’d lived in had been large, and he remembered the palanquin draped in the blacks and reds of their house as he made his way to the Dragonmont to claim Sunfyre. And then Helaena’s dreams had entranced their father and here they came.

Dragonstone was more home than Valyria had ever been, but even so, the obsidian fortress in the shadow of the mountain felt like a cage.

Out here above the Riverlands, Aegon breathed in the crisp air, the scent of the storm they’d passed through untainted by the smell of sulfur and salt that permeated the air of his home. These creatures of mud and root were meant to be subjugated. They were unworthy of the gift of flight, Aegon’s blood was a pure, magical thing, not something to be bartered to such a thing.

But his mother was of these people, and he loved his mother. Her blood flowed through him. She was just as fierce as his sister even if she lacked wings. His Uncle Daemon sneered and called him and his siblings half-breeds, shocked that they were able to claim dragons as they did.

Aegon shook his head, damp hair stuck across his forehead, and urged Sunfyre lower to better make out the land before him. Here, he could see the frightened sheep moving in a great herd as the shadow of the winged predator loomed over them. Sunfyre rumbled his desire and he tugged on the reins.

“You’ve had your fill,” he reminded the dragon, and the beast grumbled his annoyance. They swooped lower now, so Aegon could make out the details of the sheep and their startled herders, and hear the distant barking of the herding dogs that accompanied them. Aegon turned south, crossing over the Trident and soon they came upon Castle Derry nestled in the hills. His brow furrowed and he circled about it curiously. Was this where his bride resided? On the shores of the Ruby Ford?

Aegon flew further out still, towards the lush wood, settling his dragon down by a grove of bone white weirwoods, their crimson stained faces bearing witness to his sulking and self-pity. The forest floor was damp and gave beneath his boots as he approached the heart tree. The smell of petrichor clung in the air from the storms that had passed through; the scent of rich earth, of the pine scent of the evergreen trees that hugged the red grove a physical thing.

It was only the red sap that gave the look of bloody tears against the bark. That’s what the maester had said. Helaena, who received dreams from the gods, said they were the tears of those their visions could not help. Even though theirs were Valyrian gods - the fourteen flames that dragons like Syrax and Caraxes and even little Vhagar bore like badges of honor. Aegon had never felt close to the gods of his people, for they were angry beings that threw the Freehold into a melted, smoking husk and destroyed everything that they’d come from. The places in his hazy, childhood memory, the people who had visited, who had bustled in the forum below, were all gone, as were the multitude of dragons that had filled the sky from the other families, not to mention so many along the empire, and the many who had been unclaimed, roosting in the fissures of the volcanos.

Sunfyre rumbled behind him and Aegon waved a hand. “Go on,” he told him, Valyrian words feeling strange to speak in front of the tree. Sunfyre gave him a long look, as if assessing Aegon’s intent before his legs bunched up and he took off with a gust that nearly pushed Aegon from his feet. He ran his fingers through his hair before resting his hand on the pommel of his sword and looking around. Mayhaps he’d go for a swim. Climb a weirwood and fall asleep in the boughs. He could pilfer some clothes and dye his hair and vanish into the mists of the Riverlands, become something new and unseen. He could -

The scream that ripped through the forest was full of terror and anger, the words distant and shrill, but he could just make out the ‘NO!’ through the cacophony. Alarm took over and Aegon’s head whipped around trying to figure out what direction it came from. Another scream for help and he shifted direction, darting through the weirwood grove and bursting into the firs and evergreens of the rest of the forest.

‘Don’t stop screaming,’ he thought to himself, blood pumping in excitement for a fight. A dragonlord’s first weapon was fire and wing. His second was the blade, and Blackfyre hung reassuringly at his side - the gift his father had bestowed upon him on his twenty-second nameday. Next to fucking and drinking, he relished most the clang and scrape of metal against metal.Aemond could roll his eyes at his lack of finesse, but Aegon loved a good fight; blade, teeth, a punch to the face, all were ideal.

He slowed on approach, darting behind the thick trunk of a red oak large enough to seat his whole family for a meal. There were four men just past the trees by the stream, their horses lingering, pawing at the ground, perhaps from Sunfyre’s presence earlier. Three of them wore simple brown tunics and leggings, tabards of black and yellow with a sigil of eerie yellow eyes peering back at him. Aegon knew little of the houses of the area to know which this was. From the finer cut of cloth the fourth man wore, he was their liege. Tall, with dark blonde hair and broad shoulders, the leader of the group was clad in a tunic of black, his tabard half black, half yellow, edged with golden cording.

“Hush now, you’re safe,” he crooned to the hissing, spitting maiden clutched in his arms. She was a slight thing, her kirtle a deep, forest green, the skirt split over a pair of leggings, elegant embroidery visible across her gown. Aegon’s eyes darted around, looking for her horse, but none was to be found. A noble lady from the looks of it, but the oddity of her being alone in the forest was not his priority.

“Let me go!” she snarled, eyes wide and frightened, and she reached up to claw at the man’s face. Her little hand struck true, raking across his handsome features, and he yelled, striking her hard against the face in retaliation and sending her to the ground.

Sunfyre growled low in Aegon’s chest and before the man could reach for her again, he made himself known, unsheathing the Valyrian broadsword idly, clucking his tongue against his teeth.

“Is this how you Westerosi whelps treat your ladies?” he asked, brow furrowed in feigned confusion as his lilac gaze darted from man to man. “I confess, I’ve only been here for a little time, but from what I’ve been taught, there are laws among your people that frown on such things.” A lie of course; he could care less what laws Westeros had, but the woman was distressed, and he was doubtful any of these men owned her. Why he cared about her distress at all was something he would dissect later.

Aegon’s gaze raked over the men before lingering on the maiden still on the ground. The damp of the earth soaked into her skirts, her copper curls a frizz around her soft, tear streaked face. The ring her assailant wore had cut into her mouth, streaks of blood welling up and smeared across her chin. Her eyes met his in that singular moment, so vivid and bright, an endless blue. Aegon forgot to breathe at the sight of that frightened gaze that looked at him so full of terrified hope, his stomach twisting and pulling, wanting to drag him towards her.

How could he deny such a desperate plea? How could he deny her anything when she looked at him like that?

“Be gone with you, stranger,” the leader of this little band sneered, unbothered by the glint of Valyrian steel in the shafts of light that struggled to cut through the trees and clouds above. Aegon’s gaze met his and he smiled, lazy and unbothered. The creak of leather signaled the unsettled movements of his companions.

“Prince Ed,” one of them said, all nervous hesitation that pleased Aegon. “He’s one of them.” Fearful and othering, but he should fear him. Aegon was not some mortal clawed from mud. He was nearly a god himself, and the dragons were of the gods. Sunfyre purred deep in his chest, feeling Aegon’s amusement. He knew the dragon was approaching, and Aegon could buy himself some time and entertainment. Three against one wasn’t terrible odds. He’d been in brawls like that before, but rarely with a blade, and the swordmaster’s cautious words ran in the back of his mind to be cautious of how he picked his fights.

Sunfyre would be there before things got too out of hand.

The prince narrowed his eyes in Aegon’s direction and took in the languid stance and the Valyrian steel blade. There was a flicker of unease on his face before he set his jaw. “Are you sure?” he laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t think they touched the ground, let alone come down from their mountain, too busy fucking their sisters and fathers and probably their dragons.”

There was a nervous titter of laughter from his group and Aegon joined in, his own manic giggling not quite reaching his eyes. He moved deliberately yet continued his easy stance before he stabbed forward, a flash of polished steel to slide across the arm of this prince of mud. Aegon smiled as they shouted and pulled their blades.

“She’s mine now. Be off with you. I would spare her from witnessing your rolling heads.”

The supposed prince spat at Aegon’s feet, drawing his inferior blade. “A daughter of the Riverlands will not be taken by an inbred Valyrian bastard,” he declared with all the mock chivalry and hot air that he’d been blowing. As if Aegon hadn’t just come upon them attacking the maiden. She’d been backing slowly away as Aegon had held their attention but she froze now as the man’s gaze shot at her. “Marvyn, grab her. I’ll slay this imp abandoned by his beast.”

He was brave. Aegon would give this so-called prince that much. Brave and exceedingly stupid, which often went hand in hand; Aegon would know, having been called such by his mother. The clang of steel against steel rang through the clearing and the shriek of the woman joined them as she lobbed a rock at Marvyn in her attempt to evade their reach. His opponent relied on strength, on the advance and powerful swings, and Aegon knew the type. He ducked low and got behind the oaf, kicking the man in the ass and sending him stumbling forward. With the space cleared, Aegon turned and shoved Blackfyre through the back of Martyn and removed the blade without catching any bone. Blood sprayed against the damp earth as he fell to his knees and Aegon spun the blood streaked blade, eyes on the third who had hold of the maiden’s arm, and back to the prince.

Aegon smiled brightly at him, all teeth and mirth and the feral edge of the dragon beneath his skin. “Shame about Martyn,” he said with a pitying shake of his head. “But at least it’s a first course.”

Above, a great, winged shadow appeared, blotting out the watercolor sun and casting them in momentary dim. The gust of wind from Sunfyre’s wings shook the tree, a few small branches falling to the ground from sudden and turbulent wind.

“Prince Edmund,” the other man’s voice cracked with fear, and his wide, sunken eyes focused upon the forest canopy, hand still clutching his sword and the other dropping from the maiden’s arm. Another shriek filled the sky and the trees filled with the frightened lowing of woodland animals fleeing, the birds shaking the remaining branches as they took off.

“Don’t be frightened,” Aegon laughed, shaking the damp curls back from his forehead. “Sunfyre is just having a little fun before he feasts. We’re both rather famished.” He opened his arms wide, the blood dripping from the dark steel of his blade. The clearing was quiet except for the low wheezing of Marvyn’s death rattles. He looked to the frightened man who was backing away before his gaze traveled back to this prince, taut and tense and gripping his useless sword with both hands. “What was it you were saying about inbred Valyrians abandoned by their beasts? There were four of you, weren’t there?” Aegon looked around again, and there was neither hide nor hair of the fourth companion, who seemed to be the only one with good judgment.

Sunfyre’s cry shook the forest once more. The horses had already fled in fear.

“Just leave,” the maiden said, finally finding her voice as she stumbled to her feet, her eyes like blue fire as she glared at the leader of her assailants. “Leave and take the gift of your life.”

She trembled with fear but her fists were curled into her skirt, her shoulders squared as she stared the man down. Her voice lilted, softly and strangely, neither melodic nor grating, but something altogether new to Aegon. The common tongue was not her mother tongue, and it gave a dulcet quality to her tone that those brutes lacked.

Aegon’s smile broadened, his teeth flashing as he looked at the prince. “Begone, you mud stricken thing.”

The two men fled, leaving the corpse of their friend behind, and Aegon watched their figures disappear into the trees. Sunfyre’s melodic trill echoed above and he chuckled, reaching down to wipe his tunic on the corpse of the man he’d stabbed. No need to stain his own clothes with such inferior blood. Sheathing his blade, Aegon Targaryen, eldest son of Viserys, the last Dragonlord of Valyria, straightened before the maiden he’d rescued. He knew she would be in awe of him, perhaps even frightened. That was certainly alright. He would reassure her, comfort her, and promise that he would bring no harm to her.

“My lady,” he said with the utmost courtesy. She stood there, several feet away, her arms wrapped around herself, her brilliant blue eyes wide and wild. There was a gentle, cracking sensation between his ribs as he took her in properly. She was a mess from head to toe, the skirts of her riding clothes soaked and stained. She was slight, shorter than he was, and fear had given her soft features a delicate quality that drew from how pale she was, how stark the blood and dirt looked across her face.

It took everything in him not to just reach for her and lick the blood away from her swollen mouth. To swallow her fearful cries away and replace them with precious little moans. She looked like she would make sweet sounds. The fight had his blood pumping with fever and the thrill of the win only increased the potency. He meant what he said: she was his now. He’d claimed her and sealed it through combat.

“Come,” he said, fingers wrapped around her wrist. Aegon was startled at how fragile the bones felt beneath his touch. He made sure he was gentle with it, not wanting to frighten her further. “We’ll fly back to Dragonstone and you’ll be given all that you desire.” The slap of her little hand against his cheek surprised Aegon more than it hurt, but still he reared back at the sting of it, looking down at the maiden with wide eyes. “I saved you!”

“From men who wanted to steal me to make me a bride against my will! You’re trying to do the same thing!” She yanked at the hold he had on her wrist, but he would not let her go, not now that he had found her.

“I’m not going to make you my bride,” he snapped, bewildered at the very thought of it. “You will be my concubine. Then if you prove yourself, I might wed you.” Bride? What a silly idea these Westerosi had. Not that the idea of tying this girl to him wasn’t appealing. To drag her at the foot of the Dragonmont, to sip wine and taste the blood on her mouth with the blood on his, it was an appealing vision. And it was his own choice, not one where he was sold for his precious dragon and his mother’s clawing attempts to change the succession. If Alicent Hightower wanted him to marry a Westerosi so much, Aegon had found his own choice.

From the furrow on her brow, to the flush that filled her lightly freckled cheeks, it was too late to realize those words would not entice her. A sharp pain radiated from his shin from where she kicked him.

“I will not be your concubine, you stupid dragon whelp.”

“You are precious when so angry,” he giggled with amusement and dodged out of the way of her attempt to rake her nails across his face. Abruptly, he released her, and the girl went stumbling back, breathless. He lifted his hands in surrender before clasping them behind his back. “I won’t touch you-”

“Go raibh maith agat,” she muttered and Aegon blinked.

“Did you sneeze?”

She huffed. “I was saying thank you. I will not have uppity Valyrians accuse me nor my people of being discourteous even as you are high handed.”

Aegon snorted. “It was your Westerosi brethren that sought to kidnap you, if I’m not mistaken.”

Her eyes were nothing short of vivid; such a brilliant, cobalt blue like the endless sky, rimmed red from tears and smudged black from lack of sleep. The softness of her vulnerability at his statement was unmistakable and she did not have a snip or barb for him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself and did not meet his gaze. At a loss for words now after she spent so many. Gods, she was a mess. Dirt on her cheek, her soft, molten red hair a mass of curls tied in an unkempt braid. Her wool kirtle was no better, torn along the sleeve and neckline, though it did little to detract from how fine a garment it was—or had been.

The twist of pressure in his chest was uncomfortable and unfamiliar, and Aegon did not know where to put it.It snaked through the pulsing arousal through his blood, the aching desire he had for her. “How long have you been out here?” he asked her, voice gentler this time, as if she were a skittish mare.

She desperately looked around, her lower lip trembling before her teeth caught at the ruined flesh. Blood welled up in the wound once more from the broken clot. The desire to lick it rose in him once more. Instead, Aegon tugged his handkerchief from inside his sleeve and handed it to her. The linen was carefully embroidered with golden beetles by Helaena, who’d been bedridden during her last pregnancy.

It hung between them, Aegon’s outstretched hand with the offering. Tear filled eyes met his before flicking down, eyeing his hand with all the wariness of a little rabbit before she whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, just as softly, if a bit ashamed. Aegon looked down at the corpse that still lay near them and he carefully stepped between it and her gaze, gently herding her away from the sight and towards the weirwood grove he’d come from. He let her lead the way, keeping a distance between them, his eyes darting about for either horses or those fools. Sunfyre warbled above them and Aegon knew he was keeping an eye out before the ground shook at the dragon’s landing. The maiden stumbled and Aegon caught her elbow before she could fall.

She did not jerk away from him this time and he did not grab her roughly, the idea of further scaring her making him uncomfortable.

“What is your name?” It was a polite question and one Aegon should have asked her before telling her he was going to carry her off to Dragonstone. No matter; he could make up for it now.

She did not look at him and Aegon noticed how she trembled, likely from the come down after the fight. His own hands were shaking lightly, but he’d been well trained to manage it. He cursed under his breath and looked towards the clearing where Sunfyre landed. There was a cloak in his saddlebag he could give her.

“Abrogail.” Aegon looked at her, dark lashes shading her eyes, her pink tongue darting out enticingly to wet her lips as she dabbed at her mouth. “My name is Abrogail.”

Oh. “That’s… that’s a lovely name. Abrogail.” It even tasted lovely on his tongue. “I’m Aegon. Targaryen. Of House Targaryen.” How foolish he sounded.

Her mouth twitched with a promise of a smile and warmth bloomed in his chest. “I gathered as much… Aegon.” Gods help him, he loved the sound of his name on her tongue. Adjusting his course of action seemed to be working as the tension eased a little in her slim shoulders and her sweet face. The pulse of desire flooded through his veins once more and Aegon exhaled, looking up at the red leaves and white boughs of the weirwoods they had come to. The light was dimming as the clouds grew heavy with moisture and Aegon could smell the oncoming rain; petrichor and ozone and the promising crack of lightning. Could he make it back to Dragonstone to stay the night?

“Are you far from home?” he asked, the words ashen in his mouth. It was the right thing to do, even when all he wanted to do was bundle her up and take her away with him. She was meant to be his now. He had claimed her, won her in combat.

“Not overly far,” she said with a strange tone. Aegon looked down at her. Abrogail’s gaze had darkened, turned inward in her contemplation. “I left for my own reasons… and I find myself without my horse. I am not,” she paused, pushing a finger into his chest with fierce, flashing eyes, a kitten arching her back, “Saying I would come with you as your concubine.” She spat the word out with a wrinkled nose.

Aegon grinned at her, all bright teeth and amusement, a mad sort of giggle spilling from him. “Oh, you’ve made yourself quite clear, my lady. I promise not to make you my concubine, but I can offer you a ride away from here.” ‘To Dragonstone,’ he thought. She was escaping something, she said, and he could provide her anything she could want. All he’d ask for in return was a taste.

Abrogail tilted her head, rosebud mouth pursing in her wariness but the curiosity was easing her features.

Several tastes, perhaps. If she insisted on looking so appetizing.

“Your dragon?” There was a nervousness in her tone, but oh, that curiosity. Aegon nodded and held his hand out to her.

“Come,” he said softly. “You can meet Sunfyre.”

Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you think! If you're looking for more Aegon and Abby, check out The Maiden and the Drowning Boy! and of course, be sure to check out the other stories being posted for the big bang <3

[luimagines]

Rotten in Chains

Another Commission!

They asked for their OC named Ink who comes from a Hyrule that was conquered by Dark Link and left to rot. Hence the Title. :D

It's a short little ditty, but I hope you all enjoy it.

Masterlist

Ink was disoriented. 

He had been running; sprinting like the Devil King himself was on his heels. There was chaos and death all around him. The beasts had all but taken over the region near Lake Hylia. The air was acrid and stale. The stench of rot and death was a permanent fixture. He hardly noticed the difference anymore. The corruption had encompassed the entire inhabited earth. There was nothing worth saving anymore. Except if you counted for those that were powerlessly enduring the passage of time and through the skin of their teeth alone, had carved out a way of life amongst the madness. 

He had taken a wrong turn and came face to face with one of the creatures of the fallen. Unknown beasts born from the decay that had taken root in the soil of Hyrule.

He had turned to the shadows, hoping to lose the creature in the mist before turning around and striking with an ambush to the back of its head.

No such luck.

The ground beneath his feet vanished. His heart and stomach had all but leaped into his throat before he landed. His vision went white. It was painful. The brightness itself had nearly been enough to knock him off of his feet. At once, he felt blinded. Falling to his knees, his hands covered his face to shield the onslaught of light that penetrated the back of his skull.

Ink tried to breathe.

Once wasn’t enough. His body inhaled as if he had been a drowning man beneath the seas. He took his breath with such force that he started choking on his spit in the aftermath.

This was bad. Whatever it was about his new predicament was about to incapacitate him.

Strange still, nothing had come to attack him.

It took a while, but eventually, his eyes had adjusted to his new surroundings.

Blue.

He had only ever seen the color in the eyes of his people. It was bright and clean and all above him. To his immediate surroundings was an astonishing amount of green. He had never seen so much green in one place before. The only thing he could think of to make sense of what he was seeing was that he was in a forest, an old, borderline mythical region that he longed to see with his own eyes.

His lungs had calmed and he was able to get a better sense of what it was he was smelling to begin with.

Soil…. Not just wasted away dirt or sand, but soil. Good, clean, healthy soil.

Ink felt woozy.

The land seemed untouched by the rot. The corruption he had grown so accustomed to seeing was nowhere to be found.

He runs his hand through the greenery below him. Grass, was it? He couldn’t even recall the name, nor the last time he had seen such a plant.

Suddenly, there were voices. Many of them. Most, if not all, were male from what he could tell. They had to have come from a distant land. Each from varying regions, at least. Their accents and dialects were as foreign to him as the blue sky above his head. 

Travelers? He thought as his grip tightened on his sword. He stood with a frown. Very few people traveled anymore, except for the relief bringers and himself. It was too dangerous to do so in his home.

Unwilling to let himself be caught with his pants down, he forces himself to his feet and dones his sword. Turning to the sound of the voices, he hunkers down and listens.

“I just wish that he knew where we were. That’s all. I don’t think that an unfair thing to complain about.” One of them says.

“It would be if you hadn’t been at it for the past three hours, Legend.” Says another.

A different voice speaks up next. “Well, Twilight, it wouldn’t have to be if you would let me go check out the area. I’m a good scout, you know.”

“Thank you, Wild, but last time you did that, you came back on the back of a bear.” Legend replied. “No thank you.”

“Look!” Shouted a young boy. “There’s someone over there!”

Startled, Ink turned on his heel to see three other people approach from the opposite direction. He had miscalculated. Another group of three approached him from the front while the sides were covered. An ambush? He didn’t know but he wasn’t about to let himself be surrounded.

A well-groomed man with a long blue scarf put his hands up to placate him. “Easy, soldier. We’re all friends here. Maybe you could give us some directions. We’re looking for a friend of ours.”

He’s not sure why but the way he says is suspicious. However, that’s not inherently enough evidence to act on his half-baked suspicions. He lowers his sword and raises an eyebrow, “A friend? I haven’t seen anyone today.”

They all frowned at him at once. His own accent had given him away as well, he supposed.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” The eldest spoke up. Funny. People were considered lucky if they grew to be his age, if at all.

“Who are you looking for?” Ink asked instead, willing to change the subject.

“He’s going to be dressed in all black and he has red eyes.” A man dressed in furs crosses his arms over his chest. “Hard to miss if you ask me.”

Ink’s eyes hardened at once. That sounded familiar and not in a good way. “A shadow?”

“...Yes.” The shortest one replies, mimicking the stance of the one dressed in furs. “You could call him that, sure.”

Ink looked around the group once more. Their clothing was awfully familiar now that he thought about it. “...Is his name Dark Link?”

“You know of him?” The one with a white cape said.

Taking a deep breath, Ink fought back a growl as it tore through his throat. “I’m after his head.”

[jjzzhyunie]

UNDER HIS GAZE | HAECHAN #1

pairing: haechan x fem!oc

title: chapter #1 ‘me and the devil’

prologue: “Do you even know what you're doing? You don't even know how to use it correctly.”

summary: Parents murdered by vampires, Yoo-jin Seo seeks revenge on Donghyuck by hunting him down.

genre: thriller drama, vampires, modern au, vampire hunter x vampire, plot twists, enemies to lovers trope.

note: this is a series.

©️ everything belongs to @jjzzhyunie 2024

In the tapestry of time, death spins a web of tales, each moment woven with care into memories to recall. Yet Yoojin eyes afire, holds fate in trembling palms, against the hourglass' constant sand.

As Yoojin walks through the forest woods, the memories of her parents' funeral seep in, wearing a tradional korean attire in all black comes back to her. The solemn procession, the sounds of wailing, and the sight of her parents' pictures being lowered down with the coffin to the ground.

This all flickers like a tape in her mind, Yoojin pushes onwards despite all of this. Determination was a weak word for what she is feeling. The pain on that day was a fresh wound, still bleeding.

'I'll catch him.' Yoojin tells herself, like a mantra that strengthens her doubts. She will catch him.

She contiues down her search in the unknown secluded area, parts of the forest were barely lit by the sun and Yoojin can't help feeling a sense of uneasiness. The trees seem to loom over her, their shadows dancing eerily in the dim moonlight. Every rustle of leaves makes her jump, every snapped twig sounding like a potential threat. But Yoojin pushes through the fear.

Looking for any signs of life but her own, Yoojin was unsuccusful at it. Though her body was nothing but left weak. Hunger, a constant companion on the journey with her, it's presence felt in every pang of emptiness. But grief and anger, stronger than any hunger that consumes her, leaves no room for respite.

A relentless restlessness grips at her soul, as the darkness of mourning and rage take take their tol. Each step, each breath, a struggle against the troubling tide of pain, fueling her ceaseless pursuit.

Going up somewhere the soil sinks under her boots, four men start to spot Yoojin and their presence immediately setting off warn signals in her body, even before her mind had fully registered the danger. The two men behind let out a whistle of some kind, which made Yoojin's arms stand up with hair.

Their smirks were a big gateaway that they cannot be trusted, with their rifles in their hands casually held. "You look lost," was the smooth reply from one man. He looks to be older, mid forties and the leader of his three friends behind him.

Yoojin was ready to reply to them instantly. "I'm heading somewhere," she said cooly.

They looked at each other, their expressions sly as they exhanged looks. "Well, we wouldn't want a beautiful young miss like you getting lost all alone in the forest. Especially with vampires lurking around lately." One of them said.

"Maybe we can help you out?" The man in front of Yoojin said, his tone drippng with insincerity.

She grits her teeth together, her body tensing as she prepeared to defend herself in neccessary when the men took few steps forward to where Yoojin stands. She keeps her vague answers sharp.

"I appreciate the offer, but i can manage on my own." Yoojin replies with her gaze sweeping over the group, sizing them up nearly.

Yoojin quickly went past them around and starts to walk the front path to leave them, but one spoke behind Yoojin and the men hurdle to follow Yoojin anyways, despite her protest from earlier.

"Now now, lets not be hasty. We're just trying to protect you from the vampires that can be around." The sinister tone was a camouflage by the fake-pretend chivalry.

Yoojin could see right past it with her uncomfortable intuition.

Before she could react, the two leap to the front and block the path, their large bodies looming in the narrow pathway. In blink of an eye, she was suddenly pressed up against them, her rifle falling to the ground with a loud thud. And soon enough, before she knew it Yoojin felt a rough hand grab her arm and push her down. Face hitting the rough ground betwen soil and auburn dry leaves. Pinned up behind four men.

Men's laughter rang out, a cruel sound that sent chills down her spine. Yoojin struggles to get out, any sort of movement was impossible under the weight of four men. It became tiring, a tug of war rather to escape this clinch.

Yoojin grows numb real quick, despair clawing at her as the men overshadow behind. The sounds of clothes become a scary alert to her. Yoojin's eyes widen and she panics once more.

"Now isn't the time to be screaming," He laughs. "No one can hear you anyways. We're deep in the forest."

The three men that watched everything unfold suddenly turn towards the sound of a twig snapping. The three rifles turned towards the trees and steep flooring. The man pinning her down looks up too.

"Go check it out you three," their leader said nonchalantly but fimrly too. They can only glance back at him, the tension was papable in their hesition to walk up to where the sound came.

Then without a humanly possible warning, a flashing scene through the trees from above landing on one of the men with a deadly precision. There was a brief moment of shock.

"It's a vampire!"

Chaos erupts when the two remaining men saw how their friend was dismembered and killed with a single slash, the sounds of rifles being fired sets Yoojin's adrenaline on fire.

But it was too late, the figure had moved way before the human eye could counter.

The vampire dispatched the two men next, his movements like lightning came to life. Only one remaining was the leader and it wasnt long until the man moved off Yoojin to grab his rifle to deal with the vampire. He raised it up to fire at the shadow-figure only to be met with a deserved fate.

Yoojin took the advantagr to crawl closer the familar weight of her own rifle in arms. With a determined cry she rose to her two own feet, spinning around and firing both the man and unknown vampire.

He fell to the ground and mortally wounded, but the vampire was merely scratched and its eyes ablazed by the challenge.

In quick movements it lungs to Yoojin. She leapts back, her own rifle clutched title to her hands. Yoojin knew she had to run away, she did not stand a chance against this vampire.

She ran for it. Yoojin darted through the forest, her feet pounding against the ground as she ducked under low hanging branches and leapt over a fallen logs. It was as if the trees themselves were closing in on her, their trunks forming a disoreinting maze that all looked the same.

Each step forward felt like a step eeper into a nightmare, as if she was trapped in a cycle of endless chase.

Yoojin stumps her foot over a rock, tripping on the ground front face. As Yoojin stumbles and fell, her eyes catching sight of the abandoned hospital in the area. Its crumbling walls cast long shadows across the floor. Before she could even process the situation, the vampire leaned down his hand grasping her arms.

But just as he moved closer, a voice cut through the stillness breaking the tension. As Yoojin looked up, she saw Donghyuck standing there. His eyes fixed on the other vampire, his stance was tense and intimdating.

The guy looks so familar, then it all clogged Yoojin's mind. That was him. The night of her parents death, he was the last one Yoojin saw before disappering in the night.

The tone in his voice was like a challenge between sarcasm and unbothered. "What are you doing in my territory?" he echoed, his gaze narrowing studying the other vampire. He looks newly turned and batshit-crazy to Donghyuck.

His words were met with defiance, the other vampire refused to answer or move out of the area which Donghyuck has claimed since last night.

Yoojin watched in silence, her gaze flickering between the two vampires with uncertain fear and fasincation. She had never seen such an interaction, and she wasnt sure what is going to happen. What will this mean for her?

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife as Donghyuck's rolled up his sleeves, his body language was a clear gateway to how threatening he became. Before Yoojin could even react, he took a decisive step forward, his gaze locking onto the other vampire. In the moment, the vampire's face shifted to Donghyuck, dropping Yoo-jin carelessly to the ground.

"I am going to count to three, and you better run off."

For a brief moment, the vampire hesitated, as if hoping for some sort of reprieve. But Donghyuck's tone was clear, his expression firm. Before the vampire could fully proces the situation, Donghyuck's voice rang out.

"One."

Suddenly the latter ran off, he took the cue and left for Donghyuck's final number. Yoojin’s body became tense, a sense of familiar danger alerts her to run for it. She grabbed her rifle and took off running. As if her life depends on it.

Donghyuck’s eyes on her as Yoojin fled suddenly. But she didn’t dare to pause to look back at the killer of her parents.

Unfortunately, her escape was cut short when she trips up over a patch of loose soil on the edge of a steep slope.

She stumbles, losing her balance and then she starts to roll down the hill, tumbling recklessly down like a sack of potatoes.

As Yoojin lands front face to the bottom, at the base of the hill. She groans, her body aching from the rough fall and landing. She felta wave of embarssment wash over her.

Suddenly, Donghyuck's voice rang out above, and she looked up to see him standing at the top of the hill. "What an idiot," he muttered, his tone laced with annoyance, as he begins to go down the slope to get to her.

She could feel her cheeks burn with anger and shame. The humilation was enough to sent her to her early grave. Her legs felt like jelly amongst the many bruises from the fall.

Donghyuck approached her, his expression unreadable. Under his gaze was this human girl, who strangely looks at him as if she's already known him. Hated him.

But he can't seem to remember her.

Yoojin found herself in a situation sooner than she expected. She takes a small peak and saw that Donghyuck is armed with a knife, not only that, but his foot on top of her rifle when she reached for it. She was once again, weaponless.

"It's you." Yoojin said with an itch to now seek her revenge.

Donghyuck tilts his head slightly at the sound of how hateful she sounds to him, as if she already knows him. He turns to look down at the girl properly with his eyes.

"Do i know you?" He asks smoothly with an undertone sarcasm in it.

"No but i know you." Her reply begins. "You killed my parents!" Yoojin starts while turning her lips to a thin unwelcoming line. Fists clenched together.

Donghyuck's mouth twitchs slightly at the accusation. He narrows his eyes at the human girl, Yoojin was slowly getting up from the ground. Dusting off any bits of dirt remaining to the clothes.

"Killed your parents? I don't ever remember laying a finger on them, darling." Donghyuck casually said, uncared for the situation of the loss. It's more like he's certain that the accusation is wrong.

Yoojin never expected such belief that seems so real, but she saw Donghyuck that night. She remembers a face like his anywhere. "Liar, i saw you that night and i'm going to kill you."

Yoojin's hand reached out a knife to slash forward to the vampire's shoulder blade. It never crossed Yoojin's mind there would be a power difference, even though thats the most basic knowledge out there. Vampires are much superior in terms of hunting. But she didn't care for her safety. She was driven by grief and revenge more than the fear of dying.

Donghyuck was amused more than surprised by the attack. An attempt, he would call it rather. He easily pushed back Yoojin and twists her around until a single push to her back makes her fall over a large tree to the front. Completely he parried a knife, not even using his vampire genetics. More just his heightened survival.

"Do you even know what you're doing? You don't even know how to use it correctly." He said with his head tilted with arms crossed over his chest.

Was he seriously just correcting Yoojin on how to land a slash on him? She felt insulted. Belitted.

Which only caused her grief and anger to mix together, close to exploding like an erupted volcano. Yoojin turned back and lung her hand forward, the knife creating this whoosh sound in the air. Donghyuck takes simple steps back to avoid being slashed by a basic knife, a kitchen knife it looks to be.

She then ends up being tripped up, again, for what felt like a hundreth time falling over on the ground. Donghyuck saw how she was so easily tripped by his feet. Yoojin's defence was down, she's not rationally thinking. Donghyuck made sure to put a stop to her mindless swinging with a knife.

It looked like child-play to him.

Yoojin lets out a small eugh when she lands on the ground with her head slightly bumped. The rifle was somewhere on the ground between the auburn leaves, and her knife laid next to her face. Her blurry vision grew to normal, Yoojin saw Donghyuck standing above her in front.

She flashed him a glare, her hair completely roughed up with leaves in them from the fall. "What do you want?" Yoojin throws because Donghyuck was just staring at her, not impressed.

An eyebrow was raised on his face when he saw that glare on her face. He sighs tiredly.

"Get up," Donghyuck says simply looking around the area, his voice smooth yet demanding. He doesn't make any move to remove his foot from the ground, he just waits for her to get up from the pathetic ground.

Looming over her, he did see a few things in the dim light outside on her face. Donghyuck saw the minor cuts and scratches on her face, indicating it from the falls. Maybe even struggle against the troublesome people earlier.

She grunts when leisurely going up on her feet, Yoojin blows some of her messy hair away in a huff, like a small child does. Yoojin made sure there was a good enough distance between the vampire and her eyes ocasionally observe the surroudings.

"What do you want?" She asked again. "Going to kill me like you killed my parents, huh?" Yoojin slowly brought up with an intent to provoke malicous to him.

Yoojin saw Donghyuck let out an exasperted sigh, the patience starting to wear thin. He rolls his eyes slightly and crosses his arms. "I already told you, i didn't kill them." He repeats sounding frustrated.

But when he saw her eyes constantly looking down towards the rifle, he simply reached for the weapon and shown it to her. He held the rifle with his two hands. "Looking for this?" he mocks, tapping the rifle on the ground.

Yoojin tried to hold the urge to just, try and stab him again. But she failed because the next thing that happened was Donghyuck quickly dodging a knife in the air that Yoojin reached for nearby before. He gave a disappoited eye roll.

The next thing she knew, she was held in a tight grip. Wrist held by a very strong hand forcing her to drop the knife and Donghyuck wasn't being so, tolerant anymore.

His grip was pretty tight but not enough to snap a bone yet. It is strong enough to keep the girl from not atacking him every five seconds like a maniac.

His expression is unreadable as he looks down at her widen eyes full of fear, his dark eyes piercing into them. The amusement from earlier is gone and now he was simply serious on the matter.

"I'm going to let go of your wrist now, and if you try anything i'm going to break it. Got it?" Donghyuck threatens sternly. But he saw Yoojin's non verbal reply as a sign that she understood it.

Yoojin was tempted but she didn't act on it this time. In fact she stood still and slowly takes back her wrist released from his hand. Donghyuck trails off next.

"See? I'm trying to be Mr nice guy, i don't usually do that." He points out sarcastically at the sudden quiet girl, but all he got was a glare. And as if she wants to just run away. Far away from him.

He sighs again. "Look, you're hurt and you must be lost. I have enough space for you to camp in my home."

"How do i know you won't kill me?" She shot at Donghyuck, defensively holding suspicion.

He gave her a look, as if thats the most obvious thing in the world. Donghyuck matter of factly points out. "Because if i wanted you dead, you'd already be dead."

She scoffs but Donghyuck already started to make his way back up, he assumed the girl will follow. She has nowhere else to go and her chances being safe from other vampires are high with him.

"Didn't realise vampires have sense of hospitality." She sarcastically shouts but eventually Yoojin weighs the pros and cons. Ultimately she starts to slowly tag behind Donghyuck.

Maybe she can always get back at him. But not right now.

[worldruins]

This image really captures who Teeth is as a person. Uh. It’s bad

[animalistic0]

Five More Minutes (Part 2.5)

Part 1: Here Part 2: Here Part 3: Here

Plot: A continuation of Just One More Moment. With the group further separated than ever, this could be it. A storm providing cover but also endangering them. A return of someone thought dead, may have drastic consequences.

*Season Four spoilers!*

OC Maybank twin + platonic Pogues x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: OuterBanks, Season 4, Death, Description of death, mentions of murder and murdering, violence, homicidal tendencies, blood, angst, guilt, anger, allusions to abuse, mention of kidnapping, Groff

Word Count: 2.7k+

Note: I hope you all enjoy this; part three should be out pretty quickly, but no promises. I’m getting my wisdom teeth out, so yeah…It’s completely written but I need to go back and edit it. Another warning: Part three and beyond are going to be DARK. Fair warning, again though please enjoy and remember to drink water🫶

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JC turned and followed after JJ and Kiara towards the statue, the crown, and Rafe. Her heart pounding and nausea building in her stomach as everything in her screamed that something would happened. Her instincts begging her to listen and get her family away from here, away from the potential danger she could taste on her tongue. JC kept up the rear of the group, JJ in the front leading them and as they reached Rafe she could barely make out his words as he moved towards them. She could tell it had something to due with his injured hand, as he had pointed at it while holding it up. She’d have to ask him later when they had the crown and everything was calm what happened to his hand.

JC switched her gaze from the tall statue over to JJ as he turned towards Kiara and her, saying he had to do it. JC immediately started shaking her head as Kiara had asked him what. Only for him to repeat himself, leaning closer to the two of them. “I gotta go up there!” Kiara immediately began disagreeing taking her scarf off her mouth so she could speak more clearly, and JC agreed with her, to a degree. Taking her scarf off JC tried not to inhale the sharp sand that was like glass. “Kie’s right. You can’t go up there, but we can’t wait either. I’ll go!”

JC backed into herself as both JJ and Kiara turned towards her, one with a glare and the other with a bewildered expression. Before JJ could even say anything JC took a step forward, her lips pursing as she spoke. “Dammit, Jay. You’re injured and don’t need to climb that. You’re better at driving and I’m better at climbing. I got this.” The twins stared at each other before JJ shook his head, stepping forward like he was gonna hug her but instead swiped her leg out from underneath her. “Sorry June! I gotta do this. I gotta do this for all of us. I mean, hey, it was my fault to begin with. So, I mean, I guess I should be the one to fix it.”

JC immediately began pushing herself up only for Kiara to step over her and push her back down. Except Kiara wasn’t looking at JC, no her eyes were on JJ as she spoke with such admiration and love towards him; “JJ, be careful. I’ll be here waiting on my crown!” All JC was able to make out was JJ calling her Queen Kie, before she shoved Kiara off her and stumbled to her feet. A harsh glare on her face as she shoved Kiara backwards. “What the fuck, dude! Really! What the fuck!” Before she stumbled after her twin, hoping she’d be able to catch him and stop him. She loved that they had each other but she hated how they acted together sometimes. How well they knew each other, how well they knew her, and could get away with shit like that. “Rafe stop him!” She prayed the older male would not only hear her but actually stop him, though a part of her doubted he would.

Rafe heard a faint shout of JC telling him to stop JJ but when he saw the younger Maybank he patted him on the shoulder encouraging him, “You got it.” What Rafe wasn’t expecting was for JJ to grab his shoulders and speak urgently probably trying to get his words out before his sister came. “Hey, you’ll get your cut! And keep JC on the ground.” Rafe nodded, the two slapping each other on the shoulder before JJ moved to climb the statue and Rafe intercepted JC. His arms wrapping around her waist and holding her back from ripping JJ down from the statue.

JC immediately began thrashing, yelling curses and threats at both Rafe and JJ. They didn’t have to worry about anyone else killing them, she was gonna do it. JC immediately went slack in Rafe’s hold as she watched JJ climb up the statue at a decent pace, before he grabbed a loose area and one of his hands slipped. Apparently Rafe was also shocked because JC got free and rushed to the base of the statue, her hands flying up to her head as she stared up at him. It would be idiotic to climb after him, even more to scream at him in this moment so she kept her mouth shut. Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood as she watched her twin dangle by one hand. Before he caught himself and pulled himself up onto a ledge. JC hit the base of the statue with both her hands before she backed away, placing her scarf back over her mouth as she mumbled underneath her breath; “I’m gonna kill him. Fuck Sakes.”

JC took a breath, wringing her hands as her eyes stayed laser focused on watching him. As a heavy gust of wind hit, JC lifted a hand to protect herself but didn’t look away, her eyes narrowing as she heard Kiara yell; “JJ, we gotta hurry!” JC knew they were all stressed but damn could her friends be some real dumbasses sometimes. She wasn’t no Einstein, but she had some or at least what she believed to be a decent amount of common sense. “Kie shut up. He needs to focus and us yelling at him isn’t going to allow that.” JC hissed through her teeth as she glanced back at Kiara and Rafe, her eyes darling them to disagree or saying something.

Her body grew rigid as all three of them turned around at the sound of voices, not any voices but the Lupine Corsairs collective voices. “Shit!” JC turned back around looking back up at JJ trying to figure out how much further he had and the time it would take. “Shit. Here they come.” JC had to bite her lip to stop the smile that wanted to form due to Rafe’s words. Only for it to disappear as Kiara yelled out warning JJ, and he looked down at them shouting that he was almost there. Shaking her head, JC threw her hands up shouting up at her twin; “Pay attention, Jay!” She didn’t need to hear him say it, she knew he mumbled a sarcastic yes ma’am under his breath and just the thought alone made her smile.

“Hey! Y’all stay here. I’ll go down and buy us some time.” JC turned around and looked at Rafe as he stepped closer to Kiara and her. Once he finished his sentence he immediately turned and began walking, only to turn back around as Kiara spoke. “What? No, Rafe! Are you crazy? They’ll kill you!” JC bit her tongue, thousands of replies forming as she watched them. “Hey! I’m a killer too! I’ve got nothing to lose!” JC shook her head, rushing forward to grab his shoulder as he walked away again. She stopped him right before he lifted his scarf back up, and she lowered hers. Her eyes scanning his, as she watched him. “You have everything to lose, Rafe. Your life, be careful.” She watched as he nodded, lifting both his hands to touch her cheeks, before he lifted her scarf to cover her face. With one last shared longing look, she watched as he turned pulling his own scarf up and disappeared into the sandstorm.

“Shut up Kie!” JC watched as her friend lifted her hands up before they both giggled, the laughter trailing off as they held each other’s hand staring up at JJ. JC turned towards Kie her eyebrows furrowing as she glanced back up at her brother. “Did he say he found something?” She could feel the excitement brewing within her, it felt like they were sixteen again and found the gold, seventeen and found the cross, eighteen and found El Dorado. It felt like the relief that hit her like a freight train when John B texted them that he was in fact alive. The track record for finding the treasure was four for four and JC began bouncing with excitement.

Only for the excitement to fade away as JJ began screaming before he ripped the stone eye out of the statue. Kiara and her shared a glance before they focused back up on JJ, watching him. She felt her heart drop as JJ slipped again, Kiara beginning to shout at him again. This time JC didn’t say anything, keeping her eyes as trained on JJ as she could through the sandstorm. As JJ got himself safely situated on top of the statue she couldn’t help but mumble the words, attaboy as she watched him reach his hand into the open eye socket.

“Holy shit! Kie that’s the crown. KIE THATS THE CROWN! Fuck. Oh my god. Yeah JJ!” JC just knew it was the crown as JJ pulled his arm out and was holding something. Even through the sand she could see some of the shiny blue. She gripped Kiara’s shoulders as she shook the girl before holding her head and facing her brother again. His own excitement and shouts of glee matching hers. She wished that everyone was here to see it, to bask in the moment together like they all deserved. As JJ shouted, “We did it”, JC jumped up and down, shouting it right back at him. She could feel his excitement and it only made her more excited. “Long live Poguelandia!” JC laughed, cheering and whooping at her twins words, before shouting; “Poguelandia forever!”

Kiara brought them both back to reality as she urged JJ to hurry and come down, and JC didn’t think her friend needed to shut up. Still the excitement was buzzing around her system as she gently pushed Kiara, mumbling about how they did it, how JJ did it.

As JJ reached the bottom of the statue and made his way over to them, JC eyed the crown as he immediately showed it to them. “Sweet mother.” They all look at each other before they begin cheering and whooping in excitement. Kiara asking them both if they knew what it meant and JC smiled as she nodded her head. JJ clutching the crown as he spoke like an excited kid; “We’re getting it back. We’re getting back our home.” JC threw her fist up in the air as she shouted a hell yeah. They did it, and now they would save their home. They’d all be set for life, and could travel wherever they wanted. All their dreams would be able to come true. John B and Sarah would be able to have their own house and build their family. Pope would be able to go to school, and Cleo would travel while he did, perhaps even get her own education. JJ and her could go do the surfing trip they always wanted to do, and Kiara could come. Or she could go save the turtles like she always dreamed of. This wasn’t just about home, it was about them, and their dreams, their family. However, most importantly they still had each other.

JJ cut the celebration short as he pointed over Kiara’s shoulder, his face turning grim. “Wait, wait, hey! Go, go, go!” Following his line of sight JC cursed before JJ pushed Kiara and she pushed JJ. All three of them shouting at each other to run. JC ducked as a shot ran out, pushing JJ who was in front of her to run faster. She kept herself behind them, Kiara leading, and JJ in the middle with the crown. Looking over her shoulder as they entered the maze of buildings. All of them having been suspiciously empty since their arrival unless the individuals were hiding which she couldn’t blame them if they were.

JC stumbled behind JJ as they came to a fork in the road, her twin pointing to the left as Kiara stood in the right section entrance. She called after Kiara as the girl went down the other one, claiming she thought it was this way. JC didn’t notice how JJ leaned up against the wall covering his eyes, as she was busy chasing after Kie. She paused in the entrance of the next area glancing behind her as she didn’t see JJ, her eyes glancing over to Kiara who continued on. “Hey, wait we lost Jay!” JC wasn’t able to get out anything else as Groff exited the building holding a knife to Kiara’s through. Her hands immediately flew up as she rushed down the steps, stopping as Groff tightened his grip on her friend. “Let. Her. Go.”

Kiara had called for JJ, and he came rushing into the area not paying attention as he shut the door and leaned against it. Before Kiara called for him again and he looked up, everything in him stopping as he saw the love of his life being held by his father and his twin standing in front of them.

Groff brightened up as JJ appeared, calling his son’s name as the crown was held so all could see it. JC stepped to the side, trying to protect her brother as best as she could. JC cringed as JJ rushed forward a desperate and protective, “You let her go!” leaving him. Juniper wished she had kept her knife, because it would have come in handy right now. She held her brother’s forearm as Groff gripped Kiara tighter, causing her to moan in pain and fear. “Stop right there. Don’t move. Shh. You know what I want. Give it to me!” JC was glaring daggers into Groff as JJ and her spoke simultaneously; “Just let her go.”

Everything in her life came down to moments. This was one of those moments where she needed more time, needed a way to figure out how to get them all out safely. She hated how quickly they could go from being the happiest and most excited people alive to fighting for their very lives the next second. JC lived and thrived in chaos and moments like these, but she was also growing tired of watching her family be in danger. She just wanted her family to be happy, they deserved it. More than anyone she had ever and would ever know. “You could’ve stuck with me, JJ. And you, JC could have given me a chance. Think what you both could’ve had. But now, you’re going to get nothing. Nothing.”

“No. I already have everything. We have everything. And I have everything I’ve ever wanted. Things that you’ll never have.” JC looked at her brother, proud of him as she turned and nodded her head agreeing with her twin. She didn’t miss the tears that Groff blinked away, and it made her satisfied that he felt something. “You want the crown? Sure, take it. Take it. I don’t want it. Just…let her go.” JC watched with bated breath as JJ held out the crown, no hesitation or doubt anywhere on his features. A hand held out the crown as the other reach for Kiara, and JC slid her foot forward. Ready to intervene in any way possible.

JC let out a breath as Groff got the crown and JJ immediately grabbed Kiara spinning her so he was between her and Groff. JC took a step back, so she was right beside JJ, her shoulder to her father. She watched as Kiara and JJ hugged, before they pulled her into the hug. The three of them hugging each other as tight as possible. Another dance with death, and another survival. At this point JC believes death wasn’t even gonna be able to kill them.

JC pulled back from the hug as Groff spoke her twins name. She immediately turned to face him, moving to stand in front of her family as she glared at the older male. Hatred clear on her face as she sneered at him. She grunted as JJ laid a hand on her shoulder, gently moving her out of the way so he could face their father. “It’s a shame. You and me.”

The sound of flesh squelching and Kiara gasping filled the air. Before JJ let out a groan, Groff stepping closer as he spoke; “You should have given me…the rope.” It sounded like Groff was digging the knife in deeper and twisting it, and as he pulled it out JJ groaning once again JC lunged forward punching the man in the jaw. He staggered back, a look of shock and surprise on his face before he laughed. It was sinister and evil, his eyes blazing as he stared at his daughter. “Bet you wished you’d have killed me.” Then Groff turned and ran away.

[nnovus]

𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ━━ S.TODOROKI X READER

SYNOPSIS… In which, Shoto Todoroki youngest son of pro hero Endeavour is forced into an arranged marriage with the daughter of Pro hero/ clan leader, Tajima Uchiha.

INFO… Todorokixreader , ShotoTodoroki x sasuke/madarareader, mhaxnaruto, crossover, OC!!reader, OP!Reader, arranged marriage, slightly angst, character development, uchihaclan, readers looks and personality are based off madara/sasuke uchiha.

OTHER…likes and reblogs are appreciated

MASTERLIST

The warp gate swallowed her whole as she found herself in an entirely new area. — Her head was ringing as it seemed to be side effect from the warp quirk.

She fell onto her knees as she looked around noticing she seemed to be in the landslide zone of the USJ training facility.

“Woah, I wasn’t expecting them to send me a woman to kill.” A masculine flirtatious voice was heard coming from a large distance behind the Uchiha.

She sat on her knees ignoring the person who seemed to be behind her. The ground seemed to be made out of dirt and sand which was quite an advantage to her.

She sat still while her finger tips pressed onto her forehead trying to ease her the pain of her headache.

“Hey, Hey!! Don’t ignore me!!” The voice called out as she didn’t bother to turn to face it. Although it was quite obvious that the man seemed to be another villain.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she stared at a piece of shattered glass standing in the sand which allowed her to catch a glimpse of the man’s reflection.

He had slanted blue eyes with thick black eyeliner under them along with that he had long golden-blond hair which he wore drawn into a half ponytail with the rest hanging down freely.

The bang hanging over his left eye is what concealed his eye scope signifying that he was a long-range fighter

He wore a V-neck, sleeveless, midriff shirt along with pants, stirrups, and traditional japanese sandals. He also wore a utility belt with two bags on either side.

“Keep it down would you, I have a damn headache.” She angrily argued as her eyes shut tight. His veins popped as he heard the women disrespect him so easily.

As she slowly opened her eyes she saw in the glass reflection, a large type of clay insect crawl out of the man’s utility belt bags.

It was obvious to her that it had something to do with his quirk so it was easy for her to encounter it. As the clay animal had gotten closer her eyes widened as it had now exploded.

“BAAM!!” He yelled. His manically smile in full effect. Certain he had gotten her with the explosion as black smoke covered where she sat.

His eyes widened to see the smoke clear up as the remained there completely untouched.

She had turned her head lowering it as her chin touched her shoulder. Her side continued to face male. As the male had now noticed her bright red eyes.

His sweat dropped, and his teeth gritted as he made eye contact with her furious sharingan eyes. He noticed she seemed more pale than when he had first seen her. Was she getting sick or something?

She kept her usual hairstyle that was down with shoulder-length bangs framing the sides of her face covering most of right eye.

Her hero costume consisted of dark blue pants, over which hangs a blue cloth that covers her from her stomach to her knees and which she secures with a purple rope belt

She complements this with a white long-sleeved shirt kept open at the torso as her chest was covered with bandages. Although it didn’t take any away from her femininity. She also wore black arm guards that cover both of her forearms.

She seemed to keep her sword held in its black scabbard that was placed behind her being held by the purple rope belt. It was a larger size than a normal chokutō.

Getting up from her knees, she was quick to grab her sword and rush towards the blonde male. He was shocked at her speed as she seemed like practically teleported.

He jumped back just in time dodging the swing of her blade, landing back onto a half demolished house of the landslide arena.

He was quick to decide his next move as he shoved his hands in both pockets of his utility belt pulling out multiple of the same clay insects, as he threw them towards her.

He watched as she seemed to be gathering lighting in her hand, piercing every single one of the clay insects that came her way.

His heart skipped a beat seeing as Y/N was no longer in his field of vision, now hastily looking around trying to find where she was coming.

He felt a presence creep from behind him assuming it was Y/N he used the clay insect and threw it behind him jumping down from the building before activating the explosion. 

Sliding down from the building he seemed to be clearly frustrated not expecting this to go the way it currently was.

Watching the girl also fall down from the building not seeming to have any damage shown on her psychically.

He stared at her face to face taking notice of her prominent creases that had become more obvious. Another thing was the sclera of her eye had turned a light red making her look pale and weak.

Is she tired? Perhaps sick?Was it a drawback of her sharingan? No it’s definitely the first time he had seen such a thing occur.

“hmph your certainly quick on your feet, I think I’ll play with you for a bit.” The golden-blonde villain teased acting cocky as if he wasn’t struggling just a while ago.

“Another word, and I’m going to kill you and ship your corpse back to that league of bastards.” She threatened her voice clearly in a tone of extreme anger and pain.

She watched as the male had lifted both his hands allowing her to see a mouth on both of his palms. As the mouths from his palm began to vomit out liquidly clay.

It didn’t take long for the liquidly clay to form into two weird shaped human beasts. Though Y/N could tell from the way the beasts launched at her. They weren’t very strong.

“What a joke.” She muttered using her sword to slice through the first clay beast that ran towards as it tried to punch her.

Letting go of the sword and then using her combat skills to take down the other. With the first beast already taken down and melted back into its primary form.

The Uchiha raised her eyebrows to see that smaller clay beasts were formed each time they were cut.

Using her Sharigsn she was able to see from the wielder that his quirk flow only stops when the clay detonates and explodes.

Using that knowledge to her advantage then spread herself to run around the landslide training facility as the smaller beasts she had cut down began to chase after her exploding each time they had gotten close.

She had now put some distance between her and the cocky villain as she was out of his sight meaning he can only guess if she had been defeated by the size of the explosions.

“How’s that..” The villain laughed until he had realised the Uchiha had substituted herself with a tree brunch as her real body stood in front of him once again.

“Substitution huh, well you’re clearly very skilled.” He complimented shoving his hands in his pockets once again fishing for clay.

“Well then..” He added clearly having something up his sleeve that she wouldn’t anticipate.

The villain placed his hands together before an explosion was fired in the exact spot the villain stood.

As smoke cleared up, Y/N could see her enemy stood on top a massive clay dragon he seemed to have summoned with that past explosion.

She twitched her eyes to see the dragon open his mouth as clay bombs come crawling out scattering themselves as they hurried themselves underneath to make a Landmine.

It wasn’t long before the clay dragon began to blast itself off into the sky as it began flying above her in circles not wanting to touch the ground.

“Answer me this, can that giant thing be an explosive aswell?” She asked but in all seriousness she knew she wouldn’t get an answer.

“Like I’ll tell you..” He said as his cocky tone only made the Uchiha get more annoyed.

She had picked her sword up when she had seen the male put his hands together one more time watching the dragon open his mouth to launch a miniature beast flying her way.

The miniature beast was faster than the others but when it had reached her it gave a weaker explosion she had gotten caught in.

Using her arms to cover her face as she slightly got blown away with the explosion. To counter she stabbed her sword into the ground to give stability.

As the explosion cleared up she grabbed her sword and threw 15ft in front of her, where she assumed the land mines would be.

In truth the blonde had no idea what she was doing until she had disappeared from his sight once again only for then to be seen standing on the Pommel of her sword.

He couldn’t deny her speed and flexibility were something else, the best his ever seen if his being honest.

His veins popped to see that she had gathering lightning and infused it with her sword that was through the ground to disable the land mines.

He watched her use the lighting that surrounded her hand and shaping the lighting into a long blade emanating from her arm.

Lifting her hand he watched Y/N pierce through the clay dragon wings while still staying at a distance.

“What the hell-” He whispered to himself, frustrated as his clay dragon began to fall down unable to fly anymore.

…

She was too quick for him. His lips now trembled as a string of blood left his mouth running down onto his chin. Heavy breathing left the villains mouth.

Right now Y/N stood an inch away of him as all five of her fingertips pressed onto the males chest. As the clay dragon that had fallen, laid behind them paralysed.

His eyes twitched as he realised she had infused lightning energy(chakra) into his body making him unable to move. He collapsed onto his knees. Head hitting the ground as his body remained in agony.

He was still conscious though it seems he was unable to move. His eyes refused to leave the Uchiha that stood in front of him staring him down as she looked mesmerising.

As the natural light hit her face allowing her to sharingan glow as he saw his own reflection in her eyes.

“It’s beautiful..this..” He weakly whispered as the girl only stood staring at him.

“This is art.” He angrily continued as it was hard to listen to the male as words struggled to come out his mouth.

A hard kick by the girl was connected to his face as his body practically flew hitting a demolished building across Y/N.

As he was now able to get a view of her whole figure he realised she had become frail and worn out as she seemed to take heavy pants.

“But how, how’d you figure it out.” He asked gripping and scratching the ground as it was the only type of movement he was able to do in his state

“I knew it a while back when I first activated my sharingan.” She replied as the small bits of lighting sparked around her body.

“When facing the sharingan you really oughta make ur movements out of the line of sight because no matter how fast you are. These eyes can read them.” She said as each word that left her mouth made the blonde angrier.

“Explosions use earth style, while I use chidori which is lighting style, you do the math. Earth style is vulnerable to lightning.” A frail cocky smirk appearing on her face.

“These eyes see’s quirk energy as colours, so when I looked at you I saw that your body had the same energy in those bombs.”

“I didn’t understand it right away, but when I touched you with lightning I finally understood it.”

“You’re a walking bomb aren’t you?? Your body is made out of the same stuff as those clay insects, so lighting should be able to restrict your movement for a while.” She said and guessing by him gripping onto the floor harder she seemed to be correct.

Suddenly she felt a painful tension occur on Uchiha’s as a terrible soft outcry was heard leaving her mouth.

As her eye pain only worsen she lowered her head, placing her palms on top of her eyes, coloured nails only digging deeper into her forehead.

It took no longer than a second before she collapsed onto her knees, her chest inches away from the ground as she used her elbows for support.

Her head spinning. Each thought felt heavier than the last, a wave of nausea completely taking over her.

A gag escaped her lips, and before she could brace herself, she was hunched over, the contents of her stomach erupting onto the floor with a force that left her gasping.

“You sure can’t talk tough, you’re on your last legs too. You’re not any better than me.” He snickered wanting a reaction out of the girl.

His face flushed. He was furious. He hated how the girl managed to stay calm no matter what was said. Did she not take him seriously or something?

“How are you still calm, shouldn’t you be worried just a little? THAT IS WHAT ANNOYS ME THE MOST!! YOU THINK YOUR JUST SO COOL!!” He raised his voice. Rage taking over his mind.

He reminding Y/N of Bakugou, as they were both short tempered with powers involving explosions.

“Those eyes! Those over confident eyes make me so sick. Your eyes judging me and my art, I’ll never forgive them for that.” He continued as it was hard for the Uchiha to understand him with half her head in a blur.

“You have absolutely no respect for my art I can tell that you don’t I can never forgive those eyes that just ignore my art.” He was gasping for air as the yelling tired him out even more.

“I couldn’t care less about all that.” Y/N calmly replied lifting her head to make eye contact with him. It was true that after vomiting the pain did seem to ease.

Her eyes widened as the same warp gate from earlier appeared underneath where the villain laid as the warp started to cover his body.

“That’s enough, Deidara..” The voice from the wrap portal spoke up.

So that was the villains name. Deidara. She watched the mysterious figure use his quirk to teleport Deidara somewhere he couldn’t be reached.

It didn’t take long for both the two villains to disappear leaving the Uchiha by herself… She slowly got up as her balance was slightly loose.

She turned her head as she felt a sudden change in temperature. Considering she was inside the USJ facility it was expected to be hot.

Which made it clear, as the air became colder. Todoroki must be near by…

[sparksinger]

Everything I'm Not

Summary: When a Decepticon attack rocks the base and Cordelia's self-worth, Optimus reminds her that family is a choice. One that he makes every day.

Rating: Teen and up (canon typical violence)

Relationships: Optimus Prime & Cordelia (OC), father-daughter dynamic, not romantic

Content/Trigger warnings: canon-typical violence, no major character death, robot gore, Decepticon attack, depiction of battle

Word Count: 10.1k

(complete fic below cut)

“If I ever were to lose you,

I’d surely lose myself.”

‘Future Days’ – Pearl Jam

The sun was beating down unrelentingly on the Autobot base, situated on Diego Garcia deep within the Indian Ocean.  Cordelia’s chestnut-auburn hair was stuck to her face as she focused on putting one foot in front of the other, her sneakered feet pounding the running track that seemed to stretch on endlessly before her. 

Coach Ros Hogan stood at the finish line, the whistle poised between her pursed lips, her dark brown irises tracing her class’s progress as they continued with their gruelling five kilometre run around the track. 

Cordelia’s calves burned more and more with each additional step as sweat trickled from the nape of her neck, down her t-shirt and onto the small of her back.  She cursed Coach Hogan inwardly, risking a quick glance over her shoulder as she tried to keep up with the rest of her classmates.  She was in the last third of people in the thirty-or-so of them that were running.  Sport, or indeed, any manner of physical activity had never been her forte. 

Unless she counted running from Decepticons.  That she could say she was really good at. 

The forty-degree heat did not help matters.  It felt like she had swallowed half the sand on the base, and she yearned for the cool, fresh water she knew was waiting for her after the last two laps that she had yet to run.  She had a sharp stitch making itself known in her left side and the pain behind her skull seemed to beat in time with her feet, each one worse than the last. 

Hannah Reid, a girl of British-Jamaican descent slowed her pace slightly in front of her, adjusting her stride so that she fell into pace easily beside Cordelia.  The bright sunlight cast a rich hue over her light-brown skin, accentuated by her dark brown hair.  Her hazel eyes found Cordelia’s and a raised brow posed her silent question. 

Cordelia had gotten to know Hannah a little better over the last year or so, once she had restarted at the school that was situated on the base at Diego Garcia.  Children of both the military and civilian personnel attended the facility, and Hannah was the only one that Cordelia had felt a genuine connection with. 

Hannah’s father was a Logistics Officer, and her mother was a medic.  Hannah herself was an easy-going, kind-hearted girl who had seemed to be the only one who hadn’t been intimidated by Cordelia’s bond with Optimus.   She had treated her like she treated everyone else, and after a year of being whispered about by the other kids, she found the treatment quite refreshing.

“Coach must be in a bad mood, huh?  Making us run around in this damned heat.  I wonder who pissed in her Cheerios this morning.”  Hannah made speaking seem effortless as she loped gracefully along beside Cordelia, her 5’7” frame covering twice as much distance as Cordelia’s own petite five-foot-one inch did. 

Cordelia exhaled heavily before she answered Hannah, trying to increase the seemingly limited capacity of her tired lungs. 

“This should be…illegal.”  Her words were punctuated by deep inhalations and exhalations through clenched teeth.  “My calves feel like they’ve been submerged in a vat of acid.” 

Hannah snorted and tried to cover it with a strategically timed cough.  “Well, to be fair, it’s worse for you.” 

Cordelia raised a brow in a silent question, unable to summon any more words while her lungs felt like they were in a concrete vice. 

Hannah chortled, placing a hand on Cordelia’s shoulder.  “Well, to be fair, it is worse for you.  You’ve technically run twice as much as the rest of us; or at the very least, you’ve done twice as many steps.” 

Cordelia regarded her friend with what she hoped was an unimpressed stare, blinking to try and stop the sweat from dripping into her eyes. She chose not to reply, but to spend the remainder of her quickly depleting energy on finishing the assigned distance before she collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

The beating of her feet on the floor became her monotone as the track disappeared beneath her, eaten up by each heavy fall of her trainers. It felt like she was having one of those anxiety dreams where no matter how hard and how fast she kept running, the finish line was always just out of her reach.

At long last, she crossed the painted white line and collapsed into a breathless heap onto the tarmac. Her lungs were working overtime, drawing huge volumes of air in before expelling it quickly, completing her respiratory cycle in record time. She scrunched her eyes shut against the harsh glow of the sun, bright as it was at three o’clock in the afternoon.

Cordelia heard Coach Hogan’s whistle blow, sounding like the hallelujah chorus. Hannah approached her then, holding out a bottle of still water to her. Cordelia took her outstretched hand and was pulled to her feet, slightly dizzy with being right-side-up again. She uncrewed the cap and took a long swig, the cool liquid a nirvana against the dry scratchiness of her throat after the run in the searing heat.

“Feelin’ alright Prime?” Hannah asked, taking a drink from her own bottle before replacing the cap. “You doing okay? I don’t wanna have to get the big guy over here to scrape you off the floor.” Cordelia rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her friend’s gentle teasing and nudged her in the side with an elbow.

“I’m fine. It seems my cross-country talents only kick in when there is a life-threatening situation happening, i.e. getting chased by a bunch of blood-thirsty Decepticons.”

Hannah shook her head in mock disappointment. “And here I was thinking that Coach Hogan’s whistle would get you running like Usain Bolt. Tut tut Miss Prime. And technically, wouldn’t it be Energon-thirsty Decepticons? Unless they’ve become afflicted with vampirism, in which case we’d better tell your dad straight away.”

“Oh my god. I think you are actually insane!” Cordelia laughed, pulling Hannah’s arm to link through her own. They started to amble slowly back towards the changing rooms, their heartrates now back down to a healthier rhythm.

Coach Hogan came up behind them, her ever present whistle swinging around her neck. “Come on ladies, get moving! I don’t particularly want to stand here and watch you two run another five laps of the track because you couldn’t be bothered to get back to the changing rooms before the end of the day.”

Cordelia bit back the retort that rose from the base of her throat, knowing it would be futile to argue with Coach on a Friday afternoon. Everyone was hot, tired and all wanted to go home.

Hannah apparently, did not share this viewpoint.

“With all due respect Coach, you set the times. If you had us running an hour ago instead of a half hour ago, we would have extra time to get changed and you could go and get that Martini that clearly has your name on it in the mess hall.”

For a second or two, Coach seemed to be too incensed with rage to reply. Cordelia watched the figurative tumbleweed roll across Hannah’s face, and she knew that Hannah knew she had messed up. Hannah’s grip tightened on her arm imperceptibly, denoting her friend’s instant regret at her smart remark to the temperamental coach.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you Reid. Another five laps!”

Hannah sighed and took her arm out from Cordelia’s, looking at her with an expression of irritated defeat on her pretty face. Coach Hogan didn’t appreciate the delay and took a step towards them both, her whistle grasped tightly between a thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t make me repeat myself Reid. Your father will hear of this insubordination.”

It took everything Cordelia had not to burst out laughing right there and then as she watched Hannah run back to the track and start to run at a steady pace around it in a clockwise direction. She stood there for a few minutes, her vibrant green eyes tracking Hannah’s long, lithe shadow, graceful and fluid as she ran.

I bet I don’t look like that when I run. More like a foal that hasn’t figured out how to stand up yet.

She felt her lips twitch at her inner monologue and worked hard to keep a neutral facial expression. Coach Hogan did not appreciate humour even when she was in a good mood, and though Cordelia had pity for her friend at having to run an additional five laps around the track, she did not particularly want to join her.

“Are you waiting for Christmas, Miss Prime? Unless you want to join Reid, I would suggest you go to the changing rooms and get changed.”

Cordelia did not need to be told twice. She mumbled a quiet ‘yes ma’am’ and scuttled off to the changing rooms at a brisk walk, throwing one last glance over her shoulder at Hannah who cut a lonely figure as she jogged on the tarmac.

The changing room was deserted when she got in there. She decided against having a shower in the school changing rooms. At their very cleanest they were about as enticing as eating her dinner off the floor in the mess hall. She grabbed her bag from the hook she’d left it on as she made her way past, grateful for the fact that there were toilet cubicles available now that everyone else had left.

Once she was dressed in her old band t-shirt and black cycling shorts, complete with her battered Converse shoes, Cordelia made her way out of the changing rooms and around to the front of the school compound where she had left her bike chained at the beginning of the day. 

The Autobot base was huge, easily seventeen square miles, and the quarters that she shared with Optimus were just over a quarter of a mile away.  She biked to school most days, it was an easy and efficient way to get there whilst at the same time meaning she didn’t have to rely on Optimus for lifts.

She was grateful for the base’s flat, smoothly surfaced cycle paths as she made her way leisurely back to the quarters she called home.  Her backpack was light against her back, filled with only her history assignment and the clothes she had worn for Coach’s impromptu run around the track this afternoon. 

A quick glance at her watch told her it was just after four in the afternoon.  She knew that Optimus wouldn’t be home until at least seven at the very earliest.  His average day consisted of back-to-back meetings with various human officials, appointments with government liaisons, overseeing the day-to-day running of the base and making sure that any and all potential Decepticon threats were closely monitored. 

Their shared quarters were in quiet darkness when she got there, punching the access code in that would grant her access.  She dismounted from her bike and walked it in through the ‘human’ sized door that hissed slowly open.  Everything was just as she had left it this morning, snippets of her own presence dotted about the place.

Their shared space was practical yet homely.  Directly opposite the entrance sat Optimus’ enormous desk, built to match the scale of the behemoth twenty-eight-foot tall Autobot leader.  It was constructed from various different metals, some of which had been brought by the second wave of Autobots in the Xantium and built using Cybertronian construction methods.  The chair that went with it was made from old storage containers that had been reinforced with industrial-strength concrete.  It was a sight that always made Cordelia laugh, but she was always grateful when they could work in a companiable silence together.

Her own desk sat atop his, amongst the data pads and other detritus that littered Optimus’ desk.  His was a tidy desk, but the last data pad he used was always sat near the front of his desk, away from the others that he had neatly piled up in the corner. 

A catwalk platform hugged the far right-hand wall.  It housed a small bathroom, kitchenette and an enclosed area where her wardrobe and bed were.  It was small but immensely cosy, and it was more of a home than she had ever known before.  On the left side of the room was Optimus’ berth, where he recharged once every ten days or so. 

Cordelia tucked her bike against the wall and then made her way over to the small kitchenette to grab a can of soda to keep her company while she attempted to make a start on her history assignment.  She grabbed a punnet of grapes and then hurried down the stairs of the catwalk before ascending the ladder that was attached to Optimus’ desk so that she could sit at her own and begin her work. 

The task that she had to tackle for her history assignment was to analyse the social and economical impact of the advancement of technology during the Industrial Revolution.  Cordelia was a well-rounded student and usually enjoyed history, but having to sit through the teacher’s last few lessons on this particular subject had been a difficult undertaking. 

Sighing, she settled herself at her desk and began making notes, trying to work out some kind of a structure on which to construct her essay.  

The time ticked by slowly, the background noises of the base fading into white noise that kept her company as she worked. 

Two soda cans later, she was halfway through a tedious chapter on the invention on the steam engine, and although it proved fruitless in the entertainment department, it had proven itself ripe with little snippets for her essay.  She was just in the middle of paraphrasing a particularly useful paragraph when she heard the familiar hiss of the door opening. 

She looked up in time to see Optimus walk through the door, his twenty-eight foot high frame just getting enough clearance between his ear finials and the top of the door-frame. 

She abandoned her work, springing up from the desk chair and ran over to the edge of the desk, their eyes finding each other at the same time.  A wide grin split her face in two, as it always did when she saw him. 

She got that same feeling of warmth blooming up within her from the very centre of her chest.  It seemed to spread throughout her entire body, causing the fine, baby-like hairs on her arms and the nape of her neck to stand up in accompaniment with the goosepimples that kissed the surface of her ivory skin. 

No one else on the planet, not even Leo, made her feel as safe and as loved as this gentle mech did.  It was a feeling that she cherished, and she had promised herself that she would never take it for granted, not for one single second. 

Optimus’ optics tilted upwards at their inner corners with his own small, signature smile that he seemed to bear only around her.  His footfalls sounded heavy and even on the floor, growing louder as he neared the desk. 

“Good evening my little one, how was your day today?” he asked, lowering his great bulk until he was sat comfortably before her.  He leaned his forearms on the desk, encircling her in a semi-circle of steel. 

Cordelia sat down, allowing her legs to dangle freely over the edge of the desk so that she could swing them gently to and fro.  Optimus’ optics traced her movements, bathing her in a pool of gentle blue light as his gaze settled upon her. 

“It was okay.  I managed to get some good notes done for my history assignment, although I might die of boredom before I actually manage to finish it.” 

Optimus raised an incredulous brow at her diatribe.  “Oh, that is something that I simply cannot allow to happen.  I would hate for you to perish due to lack of mental stimulation, and I know Mr Edwards for one would be absolutely devastated to be deprived of your contribution to…” he paused here, leaning forward slightly to read the mess of papers that lay upon her desk.  “…the social and economical impacts of the growing advancement of technology during the Industrial Revolution.” 

Cordelia eyed him will ill-disguised astonishment.  “Why, Optimus, it sounds like you’re being a little…sarcastic.  Don’t you know that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit?” her lips twitched as she spoke, betraying her inner mirth at their exchange of gentle banter.

Optimus canted his head to one side, feigning innocence.  “Sarcasm?  I would not dream of sinking to such a…deplorable level.  I merely speak the truth.”  His expression was a perfect poker face, giving nothing away.  Not even the covers of his ear finials were spinning. 

Cordelia could hold it in no more and burst out laughing, shaking her head in gentle disbelief at her giant guardian.  “Do you know something big guy?” she asked, wiping a stray tear from her eye once she had recovered enough from laughing to speak. 

“I am sure you will make me aware, little one,” he rumbled, his own lip plates twitching infinitesimally.  He nudged her playfully in her ribs with an index finger as he spoke, causing her to yelp out in surprise. 

She playfully swatted him away and made a fist at him, waving it backward and forwards in front of his field of vision before tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

“You are the biggest dork on the planet.  Literally!” She was rewarded with his low, gentle and rumbling chuckle.  It reverberated deep within her ribcage, making her feel like rippling water. 

He placed a hand palm up on the desk then, waiting for her to step on.  She did so without hesitation, her feet knowing where to step without her having to look where she was going.  She assumed her favourite position on his palm; sat down with one leg tucked beneath her and her left arm hooked around the base of his index finger. 

“I will accept that, but only from you my little one.  Only from you.”  His optics softened as he spoke, looking at her with the pure unfiltered and unconditional love that existed in such unlimited bounds between them.  “How was the rest of your day, aside from the deep trauma of nearly being bored to death by your history assignment?” 

Cordelia leaned back easily into the gentle curve of his fingers, drawing absent-minded circles into the metal of his palm with her nails. 

“Oh, it was okay.  Nothing major.  Coach tried to kill us, and Hannah got five extra laps for being a smart-ass.”  She immediately regretted her choice of words when she saw the thin set of Optimus’ mouth and the way his optics had narrowed dangerously, the dull flare of anger glowing behind his cerulean irises. 

“Coach tried to kill you?”  his voice was quieter than usual, and it sounded like he was working hard to keep control of his tone. 

Cordelia sighed and buried her face in her hands.  “Ugh, obviously she didn’t actually try to kill us.  She just made us run around the track in this heat, and I thought it was a little unfair.”  She heard the whirring and hissing of hydraulics as Optimus moved, but she didn’t raise her face from her hands.  She felt the cool touch of his index finger, prying her face away from her hands with the incredible gentleness that only he seemed to be capable of. 

“How far did she make you run?” his tone brokered no room for argument, and she knew that sidestepping the question or trying to distract him would only make him more determined than ever for a straight answer.

“It wasn’t even that far, and---”

“Cordelia.”  Her name, uttered in that no nonsense baritone of his was enough to stop her in her tracks.  Stupidly, she felt the biting sting of tears behind her eyes and blinked them away furiously, refusing to show Optimus that she was upset. 

As usual, he saw right through her façade and tenderly moved his finger until it was underneath her chin, carefully tilting her face upwards until their eyes met.  “Oh Lia, please don’t be upset, I am not angry with you.  In fact, I am not angry…merely…displeased at the thought of you needlessly expending physical energy in this heat.  I simply wish to know if Coach Hogan put you and your peers at risk; for if she has, this is an oversight that must be rectified immediately.” 

His finger moved to stroke her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes against his gentle affection.  She rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly taken up residence in her trapezius and deltoid muscles.  Optimus watched her with that eternal patience that he seemed to possess in such abundance, waiting for her response as if he had simply asked her what her favourite colour was. 

She dropped her eyes from his and placed a hand on his fingertip, patting it in a way that she hoped would show him she was not upset.  Or that upset, anyway.

“She made us run five kilometres.  It wasn’t that far; I’m just being dramatic.”  She felt rather than saw the gentle ex-vent of cool air from his nose, having been cycled through the ventilation systems situated underneath his helm, the ones that helped to keep his CPU at its core temperature.

Optimus’ own shoulders relaxed by a fraction of a degree, evidenced by the quiet hissing of his hydraulics.  He was silent for a short time, although the covers of his ear finials did a quarter of a turn counterclockwise, denoting his mild annoyance. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger, shutting his optics for a few seconds before responding to her.  “Thank you, my little one.  While I wholly support the continual development of your physical health and education, I do not condone the needless pursuit of exercise when there is a high chance it will be detrimental due to the high temperatures that we have experienced today.” 

Cordelia smiled at him weakly and chewed on the inside of her cheek to buy herself some time.  She noticed that his pupils had grown smaller and that his brows were beginning to tilt down in his characteristic frown, forming a loose facsimile of the letter ‘V’.

“Hey, relax big guy.  You worry way too much.  We had water and she wasn’t y’know…being a total drill sergeant about it.  I’m fine, we’re all fine.” 

Optimus simulated a sigh and fixed her with that penetrating gaze of his, the one that she felt could see right through to the very depths of her soul, to the very foundations of all that made her, her.

“I trust your judgement, Cordelia.  However, it still does not sit well with me.  Are Hannah’s parents aware that she endured further physical exercise in the form of punishment?” 

Cordelia shrugged.  “I guess so.  I mean, Coach said that she would make Hannah’s father aware of her ‘insubordination’ as she called it, so yeah, I would imagine they know.  If Coach didn’t tell them yet, I know Hannah would have by now.  She’s even more dramatic than me you know.” 

That caused Optimus’ facial features to loosen, and a small smile moved his lip plates upwards at the corners, giving his face an overall more gentle and softer appearance. 

“Is that so?” he asked, clearly meaning it as a rhetorical question. 

Cordelia stuck her tongue out at him in response and he ruffled her hair playfully with his index finger. 

His face grew serious again.  “Would you allow me to speak with Coach Hogan?  I merely wish to understand her motivations for assigning the class such a task in this weather.” 

Cordelia shut her eyes, puffing out a mouthful of air from puffed up cheeks.  “Op…I’d prefer it if you didn’t.  She is…unique in her teaching methods, I’ll give you that.  But you speaking with her…it will only cause more aggravation.” 

Optimus ex-vented air from his nose again, the slightest hint of steam uncurling from his nostrils and into the open air.  “I will not apply needless blame, nor make it difficult for you and your classmates in future lessons, but” he paused, lifting a finger to stroke her cheek.  “But your safety is one of my most important priorities, Cordelia.  The thought of any harm coming to you, even harm that you may perceive as merely…minor, it pains my Spark in a way that I cannot comprehend or put into words.” 

“Oh Op, come here.”  Cordelia shuffled forwards on his palm, her arms outstretched.  He wordlessly closed the gap between them, nuzzling her face carefully with his nose.  She smiled against him and rubbed circles into his facial plating with her nails.  “I tell you what, would you be open to a compromise?”

Optimus pulled back slightly so that he could look at her properly.  “A compromise?  I will listen with an open mind little one.” 

“How about this time, you let it go, but I promise you that if Coach does anything again that I feel is…untoward or not…safe, I will tell you straight away and then you can speak with her.  Is that fair enough?” 

He regarded her with a look that could only be described as pure pride, his previously small pupils growing exponentially.  “Indeed…that sounds like a fair trade.  If you wish that to be the end of the matter, then it shall be.” 

Cordelia swallowed, suddenly overcome with a wave of emotion.  “Thank you, Optimus…for listening to me.  I can’t say how much it means to me that you do.” 

“Of course I listen to you Cordelia.  I always want you to be able to speak your mind with me.  Your viewpoint is incredibly important to me, and I will always listen to you and make sure your voice is heard.  Always.” 

Cordelia was about to reply when her stomach decided that that would be the appropriate time to emit a thunderous rumble.  She placed a hand on her abdomen, embarrassment flushing her cheeks with scarlet colour. 

Optimus raised an optic ridge at the sound, a wide smile making its way onto his face.  “I think it would be prudent to find a solution to your evident hunger, my little one.  Shall we see what you have in the cupboards?” 

.o

A dull, rumbling vibration roused Cordelia from the dregs of sleep.  She opened her eyes to the dark, murky shapes of her and Optimus’ shared quarters, her vision struggling to adjust for the first few seconds of consciousness. 

She pushed herself into a sitting position, the duvet falling from her shoulders and pooling at her waist.  Another low concussion rocked the foundations of the base, and she could have sworn she saw the bottle of water on her bedside table ripple slightly. 

The noise of the doors hissing open claimed her attention.   Optimus hurried through, the faint blue glow of his optics the only source of light in the otherwise dark room.  He had something clutched in his left hand and dropped it in front of her on the bed before wordlessly turning and retrieving a few bottles of water, tucking them into the subspace pocked on his forearm. 

The item he had dropped on her bed was a large jacket, army issue and one that looked miles too big for her.  She was about to ask him why he had given her a random jacket when the alarm began to sound.

It was low and deafening, filling her ears with its low, monotonous drone.  She didn’t need to be told twice to get dressed and hurried herself into a pair of leggings that she’d slung over the foot of her bed a day or so previously.  Next, she donned the jacket, tucking her arms into the long sleeves and having to roll them back two or three times so that her hands could actually be free.  The hem of the jacket easily fell halfway down her thighs, but that didn’t matter now. 

The next thing she was aware of was being scooped up into Optimus’ immense palm, his fingers holding her securely.  He held her close to his chest, his free hand hovering just above her.  He was in full Prime mode, his optics tight and trained on something in the near distance.  His mouth was pressed into a thin line, and just as another low explosion rocked the immediate vicinity, his battle mask slid into place across his mouth and nose. 

“Optimus, what’s happened?  What’s going on?” her voice sounded quiet and vulnerable amidst the muted booms and explosions, and Optimus armed himself with his Energon sword, clearly not wanting to take any chances. 

“The base is under attack.  I am taking you to the emergency assembly point.  It is one of the most fortified shelters on base.  You will be safe in there with the other civilians.  I am going to appoint Bumblebee to stand guard outside so that no one unauthorised can gain access.” 

He broke into a loose jog, his hold on Cordelia growing a little tighter with the increased movement.  She held onto his index fingers tightly, her own knuckles blanched white with the effort.  The base flowed along effortlessly beneath her, eaten up quickly by Optimus’ long strides.  NEST soldiers darted around like ants, gathering weapons and co-ordinating themselves into defence and attack groups. 

In what felt like no time at all, Optimus reached the entrance of the emergency shelter and dropped to his knees, a little more heavily than he usually would have done.  A tall, thick-set soldier was stationed at the door, taking a register of all who had gone inside so far.  Optimus lowered her to the ground and tipped his hand gently, allowing her to slide off his palm and onto her own two feet. 

She turned around before he had fully released her, desperate to speak with him before he went off to join the battle.  He shifted so that he was only down on one knee, leaning his weight on his forearm, resting on the other knee. 

“Go on my little one.  I will find you after this situation has been dealt with.  You’ll be safe here, I promise.”  He tenderly ran the tip of his index finger down her face as he spoke, drawing a path from her temple down to the fine line of her jaw. 

“Stay safe, promise me you’ll be safe.”  Cordelia looked up at him earnestly, not one ounce of worry for herself present in her mind.  All she could think of was that he would soon be running into a barrage of Decepticon fire.  Decepticons who did not care and who would stop at nothing until their end goal was achieved.  Whatever that end goal was. 

His battle mask retracted, and a look of gentle affection transformed his entire face.  “I promise you Cordelia, I will come back to you.  You have my word.  Now, on you go.  That’s my girl.” 

He nudged her gently towards the entrance of the shelter, anxious to get her inside.  The tall soldier reached out for her, taking her left hand in his and marking it with a messy ‘26’ in black sharpie. 

“I know who you are kid, but just in case.  Always good to have an ID system going in times like this.”  He turned to look at Optimus, standing to attention.  “Don’t worry sir, she’s in good hands here.  We’ll make sure she’s well looked after for you.” 

Optimus nodded gratefully and reached into the subspace pocket on his forearm, pinching two two-litre bottles of still water between a thumb and forefinger.  He handed them to Cordelia, his mask sliding back into place across his face. 

He rose to his full height then and sprinted off to join the fight, his heavy footfalls sending vibrations throughout her whole body.  She had no time to lament his absence as the large soldier ushered her inside, a hand on the small of her back as he guided her into the enclosed space.

“I’m Sergeant Grayson ma’am, nothing to worry about.  Prime and the Autobots will have this sorted in no time.” 

She didn’t reply but smiled at him weakly, watching him as he tipped his beret to her before going to resume his post at the entrance to the bunker.  She set the two water bottles down; evidently Optimus had not been the only one to be well prepared.  There were at least two dozen water bottles scattered throughout the small and sparsely furnished room. 

Well, at least we’re not going to go thirsty, she thought wryly, turning in a slow circle to take stock of her new surroundings.  The room itself was basic and clinical in every sense of the word.  Grey was the colour of choice for everything in the room, the only variation being different shades of the same colour. 

Her eyes scanned the room for Hannah.  Hannah’s barracks were in Zone D, the same zone in which she and Optimus’ shared quarters were located.  Hannah’s parents would not be in the shelter, her father would be co-ordinating with the other NEST personnel and her mother would be on standby in case of any unexpected casualties. 

Cordelia recognised some girls from her class at school and smiled at them with that surface level smile saved for casual acquaintances, but did not go over to speak to them.  She was too preoccupied with trying to find Hannah. 

The bunker was filling up fast, and though Cordelia recognised a lot of the faces that were pouring in, none of them were Hannah’s.  She decided to go and check the single toilet in case Hannah was in there, a growing sense of unease gnawing in the pit of her stomach over the whereabouts of her friend. 

Panic grew within her, slowly at first as the minutes ticked by without any sign of Hannah.  As time passed, her heart began to hammer more forcefully in her chest, beating a jumpy staccato against her ribcage.  Saliva pooled in her mouth as nausea claimed ownership over her stomach, threatening to eject her evening meal.  She focused on taking deep breaths in through her nose, and letting them slowly out through her mouth, attempting to replicate the gentle thrumming of Optimus’ Spark in her head.

Dull explosions continued in the distance, muffled by the bunker’s thick, reinforced concrete walls.  Cordelia weaved her way through the bodies that were pressed together once more, making sure she hadn’t missed Hannah in all the chaos.  After another two laps around the room, Cordelia was certain that Hannah was not anywhere within the compact throng of people. 

She positioned herself close to the entrance, waiting for the opportune moment to sneak out.  Sergeant Grayson was preoccupied with checking another few people into the building, marking the back of their hands in black sharpie as he had done with her.  Bumblebee was standing with his back to her, concentrating on a data pad he had clutched in one hand. 

Keeping herself tucked close against the wall, she allowed herself to be moved along with the constant current of flowing bodies, seamlessly blending in with everyone else.  The late-night air was mild, yet significantly cooler than the day’s blistering forty-degree heat.  Cordelia could smell hints of hibiscus and coconut palm on the sea breeze, a stark contrast to the muted booms that were coming from the south. 

Cordelia wasted no time, breaking into a brisk jog, heading straight for the barracks that Hannah shared with her parents.  It took her only minutes to get there, the non-descript building looking as it always had done, sitting innocently amongst the other barracks. 

The ground vibrated subtly beneath her with yet another explosion as she approached the front door and gave two loud raps with her knuckles.  She was met with nothing but eery silence. 

A few tense seconds ticked by as Cordelia felt her mouth grow drier as more and more time passed by.  She had just raised her hand to knock once more when the door was thrown open, causing her to take an involuntary step backwards.   

Hannah half fell out of the door, her dark wavy hair dishevelled and pointing in all directions.  She looked up then, her eyes meeting Cordelia’s. 

“Hey!  What are you doing here?  Come on, we need to get going!  My dad’s just rung me and told me that the ‘cons have attacked the main emergency shelter!  He told me to go straight to the command centre!” 

She gave Cordelia no chance to reply but grabbed her by the right wrist and started pulling her along in the direction of the command centre.  The command centre sat in the very centre of the base itself, the main hub of activity and communication for all who lived and worked on Diego Garcia.  Optimus spent most of his time there and when Cordelia had caught up on her schoolwork, she often spent the evenings there keeping him company while he finished up the fiddlier parts of his day. 

Cordelia struggled to keep up with Hannah’s longer stride, pumping her legs to make up for the lack of distance that she covered compared to her friend.  Hannah’s grip on her wrist was hard, and despite the relative mildness of the late night, her skin was cold to the touch. 

A low, whistling sound distracted Cordelia from her second sprint in less than twenty-four hours and she lifted her head to find the source of the sound.  A projectile was heading straight for them.  Whether it was a bullet or a missile, Cordelia could not tell.  All she was aware of was the sound growing louder and louder, reminiscent of a low growl as it got closer and closer to the two girls. 

Cordelia tried to pull Hannah out of the way of the incoming danger, but it was like trying to pull a brick wall down with her bare hands.  Hannah did not yield to her by one single inch.  Time seemed to slow as the projectile dropped in altitude, looking to make landfall right in their path. 

Then, just at the very last minute, a huge slab of concrete was thrown over their heads and into the trajectory of the ballistic.  The force of the following explosion knocked both Cordelia and Hannah off their feet, the world temporarily turning upside down as they flew through the air before falling back to earth with a sickening crunch. 

In the back of her mind, where rational thought still resided, Cordelia was mildly impressed that Hannah had managed to keep a hold of her wrist, fingers biting into her skin in a manner that bordered on painful. 

As she landed, her left arm bent underneath her at an unnatural angle and she felt a tangible crack before a jolt of severe pain shot down through her entire arm.  She barely had time to register what had happened before an enormous black, metallic foot slammed down mere inches from where she and Hannah were laying. 

Her eyes traced up the leg to which the foot was attached, and she felt her heart leap into her mouth as her eyes locked onto the scarlet optics of Barricade.  His mouth turned upwards in a cruel smirk as he bent down, a hand outstretched. 

Again, Cordelia tried to roll out of the way and pull Hannah with her, but Hannah didn’t budge.  She appeared to be completely immobile, seemingly rendered into shock by what was going on around them.  She pulled once more, wincing through clenched teeth as another jolt of pain shot up through her arm. 

Barricade’s outstretched hand was drawing ever nearer, and Cordelia scrunched her eyes tightly shut, sending a fervent prayer of love to Optimus, hoping that on some visceral level, he would be aware of it before her life was snuffed out by the encroaching Decepticon. 

At the last possible minute, another hulking black mass, this time flecked through with bits of gunmetal grey, hurtled through the air and straight into Barricade. 

The two titans’ bodies met in an explosion of sparks and metal screeching against metal, the sound almost painful.  Ironhide rolled to absorb the impact of his leap and before Barricade could get to his feet, swung his right arm and delivered a swift uppercut to the Decepticon’s jaw that sent him flying once more.  In a move so fast she couldn’t follow it with her eyes, Ironhide armed himself and unleashed a storm of bullets down on Barricade, pinning him to the ground. 

Chunks of concrete littered the air, falling like rain.  Hannah suddenly found herself again and pulled Cordelia easily to her feet and once more in the direction of the command centre.  Barricade was starting to retaliate against Ironhide’s relentless attack, but not before the Weapons Specialist turned his head in the girls’ direction. 

“What the frag are you doing out here?!  Get to the shelter – NOW!”

In any other situation, Cordelia would have found Ironhide’s tone of voice terrifying, however, it was not his tone of voice that terrified her, rather than the fact that he himself sounded terrified.

Hannah forced her legs into motion once more, pulling her along with a renewed sense of urgency and strength.  Cordelia had no choice but to be towed along by the stronger girl, her own feet pounding on the floor twice as much as Hannah’s to make up for the difference in their strides. 

Cordelia could smell the acrid scent of gunfire and scorched metal in the air, the night sky lighting up intermittently with explosions that rocked the world all around her.  She tried to concentrate on nothing except her own footfalls, trying to count along to a beat in her head. 

Behind them, Ironhide was still going toe-to-toe with Barricade, the vibrations from the force of their clash travelling through the ground and up into her body.  Her eyes widened when she saw Optimus directly in front of them, locked in a fierce brawl with no other than Soundwave. 

Fear clenched around Cordelia’s heart, her vision tunnelling until Optimus and Soundwave were the only things that she was aware of.  Her eyes tracked every iota of Optimus’ movements.  The way he lifted his left arm to block a blow from Soundwave and the way that he countered with a swift kick to the Decepticon’s chest before unleashing a powerful blast from his Ion Blaster, sending Soundwave flying through the air. 

Before Soundwave could get up, Optimus transformed into his vehicle mode and covered ground faster than Cordelia had ever seen him move before, crashing into Soundwave with a force that she felt in her bones.  Optimus executed a swift handbrake turn, halting Soundwave’s progress in getting back to his feet with his back fender, putting the Decepticon on his back once more.

Metal screeched against the floor with a ferocity that set Cordelia’s teeth on edge, her legs momentarily slowing to follow the progress of the battle.  Optimus transformed back to his bipedal mode, his foot slamming down onto Soundwave’s chest. 

Even from this distance, Cordelia could hear the groaning of Soundwave’s frame under Optimus’ immense weight as the larger and heavier Autobot leader bore down on the smaller Decepticon.  Soundwave lifted his head from the floor then, his crimson optics locked on the two girls running straight for them. 

Cordelia snapped back into reality then, digging her heels into the ground in an effort to slow Hannah down, pulling back at the same time.  This time, Hannah responded to the resistance and turned to look at Cordelia, a confused frown creasing her face. 

“We’re going the wrong way!” Cordelia shouted, pulling Hannah in the direction of the command centre.  Once again, Hannah was unyielding, seemingly totally unaffected by Cordelia’s attempts to get her to change direction.

“No, you’re wrong!  Massster says I must bring you this way.”  Hannah’s voice was toneless and devoid of any discernible emotion. 

Ice shot through Cordelia’s veins, paralysing her to the spot.  Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, in perfect time with the beat of blood in her eardrums that momentarily deafened her. 

“What-what do you mean?  The command centre is this way!” Cordelia could hardly hear her own voice over the cacophony of gunfire and metallic scraping. 

A horrific grin split Hannah’s face, metamorphosing it into someone that Cordelia did not recognise.  Bile rose up into her throat as she watched Hannah’s skin bubble and recede to reveal a purplish metallic surface, its plates shifting and rearranging until all traces of Hannah had been erased.  In her place stood a Decepticon at a height of around six feet, eerily similar to the Decepticon Frenzy. 

His face still bore that sinister grin, an evil laugh bubbling up from somewhere within him.  Now completely rid of his human disguise, he coiled his spindly limbs around her, ignoring her shouts of pain when he pinned her broken arm to her side with ease. 

He lifted her as if she was nothing more than a bag of shopping, slinging her roughly over his shoulder in a loose approximation of a fireman’s carry.  He sprinted toward Optimus and Soundwave, intent on delivering her to the superior Decepticon Commander. 

Optimus’ head snapped up then, his optics dilating with pure, undiluted fear as his gaze locked onto Cordelia.  Time seemed to slow between them as he launched himself off Soundwave, simultaneously transforming into his vehicle mode as he did so. 

He landed roughly on the ground, his suspension taking the brunt of the impact.  There was about 150 metres between them and his 425-horsepower engine ate up the distance as if it were nothing at all.  In less time than it took for her to draw another panicked breath into her lungs, Optimus was upon them, transforming back to his robot mode with a graceful flourish. 

He skidded forward on one knee, his left hand outstretched.  His fingers wrapped around the pair of them, lifting them from the ground with ease.  The fingers of his right-hand sought purchase on Rumble’s body, easily prising him away from Cordelia.  Rumble thrashed furiously in Optimus’ grasp, but it was futile.  Cordelia watched wide-eyed as Optimus’ fingers closed around the mini-con, effortlessly crushing him until he was nothing but a twisted mass of bent metal and sparking circuits. 

Optimus dropped him and cradled Cordelia protectively to his chest, lifting his head just in time to see Soundwave and Barricade hobble through the dying light of a groundbridge, disappearing into a swirling vortex of blue-green light. 

His optics fixed her in his steady gaze, still at their widest aperture despite the Decepticons’ retreat.  She felt the light tickle of a scan before his fingers palpated her body with the utmost gentleness, doubtless checking her for injuries.  He stopped abruptly when he got to her left arm, feeling the injury that she had sustained there.

“You’re hurt,” he muttered, rising to his full height and moving toward the med bay decisively.  “I’m taking you to Ratchet.”   

Cordelia suddenly found her words as she was carried over the remnants of the brief but intense battle, NEST personnel outing out stray fires here and there that dotted the immediate vicinity. 

“Optimus, wait, wait!  We need to find Hannah, she’s in trouble!” 

That pulled him up short.  A confused look crossed his features, moving the mosaic of his facial plating into a serious frown.  “Cordelia, Hannah is safe with her mother in the triage centre.  She’s helping with first aid.” 

Multiple feelings of simultaneous relief and disbelief flooded Cordelia’s psyche at the same time.  Immense gratitude for the knowledge that her friend was safe and away from danger, closely followed by the embarrassment realising she had fallen for the guise of a Decepticon Pretender. 

“Shh, it’s alright.  Come on, let’s get you patched up.”  No further words were exchanged between them as Optimus ducked to go through the doors of the med-bay. 

.o

Ratchet treated her arm quickly and efficiently, informing her and Optimus that it was a clean break and that she’d need to be in a cast for the next six weeks.  Other than that, he said, it should heal without complications and function as it had before, albeit with an added weakness. 

He’d shaken his head good naturedly at her as his nimble fingers wrapping the plaster of Paris around her arm with ease, saying “always the left arm with you!” 

She’d sat silently on the berth in the med-bay, Optimus sitting wordlessly beside her as Ratchet worked.  Once he was finished, Ratchet had gone to assist the other Autobots with repairs, setting up his own triage system in the neighbouring hangar. 

After Ratchet left, the silence was unbearable.  Neither Optimus nor Cordelia said anything, both too shell-shocked by what had just happened to form any coherent sentences.  Cordelia wasn’t aware of how many minutes ticked by, but she could not find it within herself to look at Optimus.  She did not want to see the weight of the disappointment in his gaze or feel the sense of shame anymore than she already was. 

She fiddled with the edge of her cast, tapping her nails on the fresh plaster.  Her blood beat furiously in her ears, audible evidence of time’s unwelcome passage.  She was aware of Optimus sitting next to her on the berth, her gaze fixed pointedly on his feet.  There was a good ten feet between the berth and the floor below, and Cordelia debated how likely it was that she would sustain another injury if she attempted to jump off the berth.  She was sitting on the edge, her legs dangling over from the knee. 

She shifted forward a few inches, mentally psyching herself up to make the jump.  It wasn’t that high, not really.  She’d fallen from higher places and not had injuries that had been too serious. 

However, before she could move forward another centimetre, she felt a gentle pressure around her waist and looked down to see Optimus’ digits there, wrapping around her middle and lifting her carefully into the air, mindful to avoid her broken arm. 

Her hands instinctively held onto his index finger as she was raised higher into the air.  Still, she did not look him in the eye as he transferred her onto the palm of his left hand and dominant hand of choice, raising her up to his eye level. 

The atmosphere between them was thick with unexpressed tension, weighing down heavily on the pair of them.  Cordelia could hear the increased volume of air being taken in through the vents on the back of Optimus’ head, cycling through his intakes quicker than usual and being ex-vented as a lukewarm steam that she could feel on her face and the nape of her neck.

Her chin dropped to her chest, her heart beating a furious tattoo behind her ribs.  Her hands shook slightly, and she clenched them into tight fists in an effort to stop it, her nails biting into her palm painfully.  Too late, she realised that was the wrong thing to do as a fierce pain travelled up her left arm, reminding her of the break Ratchet had just treated. 

“Shit!”

She shot up into a standing position on Optimus’ palm, cradling her injured arm against her chest.  Optimus did not reprimand her for swearing, or indeed say anything at all, but she could feel the weight of his gaze on her.  She could hear the quiet click of his optics as he blinked and the whir of their housings as he tracked her frenzied movement across his palm. 

She peeked over the edge of his hand to see how high she was, her heart sinking when she realised, she would not simply be able to slide off.  A louder intake of air finally made her look up, the sight that met her eyes making her wish immediately that she hadn’t. 

Optimus’ face was a mask of inscrutable emotion, save for the set of his optic ridges.  They were tilted upwards by a fraction of an inch, denoting only a hint of the feeling swirling within him.  He regarded her for a long time, his blue optics unblinking.  She could not hold his gaze and dropped her eyes back down, tears threatening.

“By the AllSpark Cordelia…what could have possibly been going through your head to make you think that running into the middle of a battle was a good idea?” his voice rose slightly at the end, betraying the effort he was going to to keep his emotions in check. 

Cordelia could find no words to answer him at first, the confirmation of his disappointment in her too heavy to bear.  Her bottom lip quivered as treacherous tears fell, dropping soundlessly onto Optimus’ metallic palm.  She worked hard to control her breathing, not wanting it to run away from her. 

God, at least let me keep control over one damned thing!

“Cordelia?” he pressed her gently, evidently not taking the silent treatment for an answer. 

She took a deep breath, trying to arrange her thoughts into something legible so that she could understand them, not at least to convey them to Optimus. 

“I…I thought Hannah was in trouble, so I went looking for her.  I snuck out of the shelter, and I went to her barracks.  She was there and she said that the emergency shelter had been attacked and that her dad had said to go to the command centre.  I didn’t see any reason as to why it wouldn’t be true…there was nothing.”  More tears fell, punctuating her answer with the sad burden of Optimus’ evident frustration. 

“Cordelia, the base is filled with experienced and trained personnel who would have located Hannah if she was in any sort of trouble.  It is not your job to go looking for people who might be in danger!  Do you realise what could have happened today?” 

A sudden flame of anger ignited within her, burning through any shame she had previously felt. 

“Of course I realise what could have happened!” she hissed, taken aback by the venom in her own voice, but it was not enough to stop her.  “Don’t you think I know what could happen every single, solitary day?!  A Decepticon could drop a rocket on my head, a new liaison could order me away or put me into federal custody at any moment because of my connection to all of this!” she threw her hands up into the air, her anger snowballing.

“I have to watch you throw yourself into danger nearly every other day, not knowing if you’re going to come back!  So yeah, even if I am on a base with ‘experienced and trained personnel’, I will get involved if I think it is going to make a difference to a friend of mine!” 

Optimus showed no outward signs of responding to her outburst, his face infuriatingly calm. 

“Cordelia, when I adopted you three years ago, I took on a responsibility for your safety and well-being.”  He paused, letting his words hang in the air between them.  She felt the solemnity of his words in the deep cadence of his sonorous baritone. 

She said nothing in response, motioning with a small nod of her head for him to continue. 

“You are not yet eighteen, and as such, I have a legal, moral and ethical responsibility to you.  That includes but is not limited to your physical, mental and emotional health.  That was an oath I made to you and an oath I intend to keep until you send me away or I am no longer physically capable of doing so. 

“You are a choice that I make every single day, Cordelia.  I make this choice partly out of a sense of duty, but above all, because I love you, so so much.  And by law, you are my responsibility.” 

Despite the outpouring of love she felt coming from him, her temper flared again, pushed over the edge by his leaning on legalities to enforce his protectiveness.  Blood filled her cheeks as her heart rate soared, fuelling the fire that had already been stoked deep within her belly. 

“For god’s sake Optimus!!” she shouted, her voice full of indignant anger.  “I am not one of your soldiers!” 

He held her in his steady gaze, nothing but pure love emanating from his optics.  He was silent for a short time, the only sound between them her panting breaths as she tried to regain some sense of control over her wayward emotions. 

“Exactly.”  He said softly, a quiet reverence present in his gentle tone.  “You are my daughter, and infinitely more precious than a mere soldier.” 

His words pulled her up short, her anger extinguished as suddenly as it had been ignited.  She struggled to process his words, understanding the meaning behind them but not fully taking them in.  She had spent so much of her life hiding from pain and terror that accepting love, even though she had been with Optimus for three years now, still did not come naturally to her.

“You are my daughter, Cordelia,” he repeated, bringing her closer to his face.  “And because of that, I will do everything in my power to protect you.” 

Those words broke through the last of Cordelia’s feeble defences, and she crumbled into a heap on his palm, quiet sobs erupting out of her, as raw and unstoppable as a broken dam. 

“Optimus, what can I give you in return?  You are everything I’m not!  You are selfless, loyal, brave and the kindest soul I have ever met!  I can’t hold a candle to you.  I don’t know why you chose me, because you chose wrong.  You should have just let me fall and saved yourself all of this regret!” 

Her head dropped to her chest again, heavy with the weight of shame that had abruptly resurfaced. 

She felt the cool metal of his fingertip underneath her chin, tilting her face upwards to meet his gaze. 

“I must respectfully disagree with you, my little one.  I chose you because I love you.  I protect you because I love you.  More than you can possibly comprehend.  And as for what you give me in return; you give it to me every day.  You give it to me with the beat of your heart, with your infectious smile.  With the faith and trust you choose to place in me, day after day.” 

He dipped his head forward so that they were leaning forehead to forehead, despite their size difference.  She could feel the subtle vibrations of his inner workings and the deliciously cool sensation of his metal skin against her own flushed face helped her to ground herself. 

“And most of all, you have awarded me with the intimate trust of someone who I can simply be ‘Optimus’ with, as opposed to ‘Optimus Prime.’  You have shown me a part of myself I had long thought dead; the Optimus who remembers without regret.  The Optimus who leads without shame.  The Optimus who hopes for the future that we can build together.  Cordelia – there is no greater gift to be given among Sparks than that of hope – for hope can light even the darkest hour.  And where there is life, there is always, always hope.  I do not, for one, single astro-second regret saving you, and I never will.” 

He pulled back from her slightly, only to press his metallic lip plates tenderly to her forehead and press a paternal kiss there, one that spoke of the reverence and love which he held in such abundance for her. 

She looked up at him tearfully, wiping her eyes with the back of her right hand.  “I’m sorry Optimus, I didn’t mean to get angry with you.  Thank you…for always being there for me.  It means more to me than I know how to say.” 

He held her close, bringing his free hand up to support the one he held her in.  “Oh my little one.  You never need thank me.  Losing you is simply not an option.  It is something that I absolutely cannot allow to happen.  Not now or at any point in the future.” 

She allowed herself to be wrapped in the safety of his love, content just to enjoy the moment in the here and now with him, her heart happy in the knowledge that she was perfectly safe with the Autobot leader who had given her everything she had long thought lost to her. 

[yanphobia]

Athazagoraphobia - Chapter 10

Athazagoraphobia: The fear of forgetting, and being forgotten.

Pairing: Yandere Male Merman OC x Reader

Warnings (for the entire story): Yandere, Horror, Graphic Discriptions of Injury and Death, The Ocean, Body Horror, NonCon Touching, Dubcon, Female Reader, Extreme Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Chapter 9 Index Chapter 11

Author's Note: My computer keeps autocorrecting Lotan to Logan... @creepysweetie @my2phetaliaheadcanons @smolnuggie911 @spicylove4ever @acaribeau @mel-vaz

The water around you was thin and weightless. There was a horrible, blinding light shining down on you. It burned, and you had to cover your eyes with your hands. When you brought them to your face, you could feel how soft your skin was, how strange the color. You saw where your talons had been clipped off, and the webbing and scales were gone entirely. You couldn’t feel your gills flaring with each breath you took.

You were suddenly aware of just how small and fragile you had become. You forced yourself to open your eyes and find an escape from this awful place, but every color was too bright and vivid to focus on. You were surrounded by strange looking plants and even stranger looking fish floating above you, making disturbing chirping noises.

There was a creature approaching you with two tails, calling out an unfamiliar greeting. It was a female and although she kept speaking, you were too entranced by her beauty to hear her. 

Her eyes were dark, like yours, but instead of being soulless black holes they were as warm as the rich sand she stood on. Her skin was healthy and golden brown, and her pitched black hair coiled like a living current. 

She smiled at you then, revealing a fangless mouth full of dull yet sparkling teeth. She repeated herself once more:

“[Y/N].”

–

You awoke with a start, your chest heaving. The water around you was still, dark and heavy, but your heart pounded as if you had been swimming for miles. Lotan’s arms were heavy around you as he snored softly, his tail curled possessively over yours like a serpent guarding its prize.

The memory of your dream clung to you like a second skin, that strange word echoing in your mind. You glanced towards the entrance of the nest, the tightness of the cavern once a comfort, but was now an unrelenting weight pressing on you. 

The truth was crushing you. The dream had unlocked something—a door you hadn’t realized was there. Memories of warmth, of laughter, of a life you couldn’t quite piece together.

You stared into the nothingness. It wasn’t the predators lurking in the dark that frightened you. It was the realization that you had forgotten who you were.

–

The woman in your dream continued to haunt you. You yearned to see her again, to make her sweet laugh ring out. To hear her say that word again. [Y/N]. Had you been [Y/N] once, or was that her name? Was it the name of her species…? The thought of being a [Y/N] alongside her made your heart ache.

The more you thought about her, the more you started to truly observe Lotan. You began to notice things you hadn’t before. The way he spoke, his words honeyed when he wanted your compliance, self-pitying when he wanted your sympathy, sharp when your resolve wavered. The way he subtly undermined your confidence, reminding you that you had no one else. His eyes, always watching, always calculating.

The cracks in your reality widened. Your memories, once carefully locked away, began to surface. Faces, voices, fragments of a life that felt both foreign and achingly familiar.

And now, as you pieced it all together, you began to see the truth.  Lotan hadn’t saved you. He had taken you. Stolen you from a life you could barely recall but knew was yours. This realization was a weight, heavy and cold. But within it was something else: anger.

Before, you would have folded under the pressure, but now things were different. You were no longer the terrified girl Lotan had plucked from the shore. You had learned to survive, to fight, to thrive in the depths. And now, as you let your hatred fester inside of you like a wound, you would prove it to him.

—

You tested your plan carefully, starting with small complaints.

“This nest feels... cramped,” you murmured one evening. “And unsafe. The walls aren’t strong enough.”

Lotan waved a dismissive hand, his tail cutting through the water in a lazy arc. "Brizo, you worry too much. With me here, nothing will harm you. This nest is the perfect culmination of our efforts. Why leave now?"

The culmination of our efforts. As if Lotan had done more than laze around while you bled for their survival. You gritted your teeth, letting your tail flick slightly to betray your agitation before quickly smoothing your expression. 

“It’s not good enough. We need to find something else-”

“Brizo,” he whined, his voice taking on a saccharine tone that grated on your nerves, “why are you always so difficult? I’ve done everything for you. No one else ever would, you know.” He sighed and leaned in closer, his claws brushing over the scars he claimed to admire. “I thought you would be different from the other females… why am I never enough for anyone?”

His lips curled into a pout, his gaze searching yours for weakness. “Why can’t you just be thankful for once?! Don’t you remember how the colony treated you? You were nothing—lost, weak, and alone. And I took you in, loved you when no one else would. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?!”

It was a speech he’d given before, and once, it would have shattered your resolve. But you had learned to see through him, and you only nodded, letting your face drop for effect.

“I just want to protect us,” you whispered, your voice trembling perfectly. “Protect you. The nest... it’s not safe. There’s a better place. I’ve seen it.”

Your tone softened, your sadness more pronounced. Lotan’s demeanor shifted instantly, the whiny veneer peeling away as his frustration boiled over.

“You’re so ungrateful,” he snapped, his tail thrashing angrily. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are? No one else would even look at you, let alone build a life with you. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be that pathetic little outcast, scuttling around like you mattered to anyone. Is that what you want? To go back to being useless?!”

The words stung, but you refused to flinch even when he grabbed your shoulders and shook you roughly. Instead, you shifted your tone, letting your sobs grow louder and your posture shrink into vulnerability.

“I’m sorry,” you choked, her voice breaking as she bowed her head. “I just... I’m scared, Lotan. The predators—they’re getting bolder, and I’m so afraid something will happen. I’ll be too weak after giving birth to protect everyone. Please, for the sake of our children... can we just look at the other place? If you don’t like it, we’ll stay here. Please.”

The sobbing worked, as you knew it would. You knew that Lotan would spend every day of his life convincing himself that he wasn’t a bully, and would be quick to stop anything that would challenge that delusion. His face softened, the angry lines melting into a self-satisfied smirk.

“You know, you’re lucky I’m so patient with you,” he said, his tone shifting back to its faux-sincerity. “Anyone else would’ve thrown you out for your tantrum, but I’m not like them. I actually care.”

He leaned down to kiss you, and you let him.

“Fine, we’ll look at this other place that you’re so obsessed with. But don’t get your hopes up—it’s probably not even half as good as what I’ve already provided.”

You nodded, and the teary smile on your face was actually genuine this time. 

[thepromptfoundry]

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1 Merfolk Royalty 2 Seafloor Cities 3 Merfolk and Sailors 4 Sinking Ships 5 Sirens 6 Fishnets 7 Deep Sea Mer 8 Undersea Agriculture 9 Seahorse Mer 10 High Tide 11 Underwater Communication 12 Merbabies 13 Sand Dollars 14 Drowning 15 Whale Mer 16 Storms at Sea 17 Shark Teeth 18 Tsunami 19 Octopus Mer 20 Mer Marriage 21 Evolutionarily Plausible Mer 22 Lost at Sea 23 The Mariana Trench 24 Selkies 25 Mer Schooling 26 Seashells 27 Merfolk Folklore 28 Freshwater Mer 29 Sunbathing 30 Watery Warfare 31 Land and Sea