#terrifying and violent but it was over before he managed to fully process the situation

[canisalbus]

The more I think about Machete's death the worse it sounds to me. He didn't even have time to think of anything - yk usually people talk about their life flashing before their eyes, but he didn't even get to reminisce on or remember anything, anyone. One second he was fine, an individual with memories, hopes, feelings and plans, next second his entire world narrowed down to the danger at hand, and then in another moment he was just a body. Going from a whole person to a biological ragdoll on autopilot in a matter of seconds is just a type of horror that I'll never get over

.

[benjaminthewolf]

Postal Dude (Postal/Hatred) Lol

To repeat what I said just one post ago, this is yet another case of me just up and not uploading a trade story until waaaaay after it was already written. 

WARNING: GRAPHIC DIGESTION

****

     Barely even able to hear the sounds of the current open and active battlefield surrounding you through your own terrified gasping and pounding heartbeat, your body almost instinctively makes a sudden desperate attempt to hide yourself away from the line of fire by leaping into the shadows and secluding yourself behind an inconspicuous enough cardboard box.

     Well, okay, it wasn’t exactly that hard to hide yourself, since, well, you were like, the size of a mouse. Regardless though, despite your size, you knew very well that nobody involved here was blind (though some may be somewhat visually impaired. Who knows? It's always possible.), so it never really hurt to be just that much more careful. Plus, you’ve been hiding from the peering eyes of potentially dangerous or just simply too nosy  humans your entire life, so you had plenty of prior expertise on this matter.

     Nonetheless, putting all that aside, the current situation was still terrifyingly deadly as shit, so as you silently shook and spasmed in a huddled up fetal position on the floor behind the cardboard box, all you could do was wait. And thus, wait you did.

     Eventually, as all things do, the shootout came to an end, and at that point, you slowly began to get more comfortable with coming out from behind the box. Risking a peak around the corner, the immediate sight that graced your eyes in those first few seconds almost instinctively made you hurl, but luckily, you managed to suppress your gag reflex for just long enough for the feeling to go away.

     The dead, bloody, massacred bodies of at least five or six police officers were strewn every which way across the floor, the sticky, metallic tang of their red, hemoglobin-infused juices seeping freely out of each and every bullet wound their ravaged bodies had received. And in the middle of this horrific, grotesque scene? One man, standing tall. Standing proud, standing unphased. As to his identity? There could be no mistake. The one who had just been behind this unfathomable, inhumane deed, was in fact the man who’s daily routine consisted of committing at least three of these atrocities before breakfast. That’s right. Postal Dude.

     At first, you were simply too stunned to move. There he was, right in front of you. And yet for all of the horror and shock flooding through your being at the current moment, your body just could not find it anywhere within you to run and save your life.

     “Man…” Postal Dude suddenly speaks up in a casual tone of what almost seemed like contemplation. You wondered for a second if this contemplation was about the shooting, but you almost instantly discarded this thought the moment you had been able to fully process it. There was absolutely  no way that somebody like Postal Dude would ever feel bad in the slightest for a shooting. What the violent man towering over you said next only confirmed your prior suspicions. “...I’m hungry.”

     This sentence was of no initial concern to you, but that lack of concern was quickly flipped all the way round one hundred and eighty degrees when Postal Dude turned his head, tilted it downwards, and made eye contact with you.

     There was now no time to think. No time to wonder if he had known about your presence beforehand. No time to ponder about if he had previously seen you when you first peaked around the box and you just weren’t able to tell because of his sunglasses. There wasn’t even any time to even gasp. No, all there was time to do was watch. Helplessly watch, completely and utterly helplessly watch as Postal Dude almost instantly swooped down and snatched you up in his grasp, a hold so tight to you that it was actually of little to no surprise as to why you couldn’t even gasp. He proceeds to raise himself back up to full height as his hand is brought up to his face, a cocky, overbearing grin creeping its way along his face as he proceeds to raise up his fist even higher. You weren’t really sure what he was doing exactly, that was until he managed to maneuver his fingers so that he was now holding onto the skin at the back of your neck like a momma cat would her kitten. Then, Postal Dude let out a smirk, and opened his maw wide, stretching out his tongue and teasingly going: “Aaaaaaaaa!”.

     Almost instantly spasming in fear as your body began teetering precariously on the fine line between sanity and totally freaking the fuck out, Postal Dude at last let go. Tumbling down through the air, and  desperately trying to not land on his tongue, your efforts would ultimately prove to all be in vain as your flailing body at last squashed down upon a spongey, wet surface that swiftly retreated back into a darker area before said area abruptly closed. Locking you up within its confines, with nowhere else for you to go.

     It didn’t take long before you at last were able to comprehend just what you had landed on and where it had retracted you into. It also didn’t take long before you realized just how stupid an idea it was to try to not land on the tongue, as what was the alternative? The concrete? In all honesty though, you really had no clue which one would have been better, because now that Postal Dude’s jaws had crashed down around you, it didn't’ really matter what options you had had before, because the only option you had now, was to get squeezed through Postal Dude’s upper esophageal sphincter and be squeezed on down towards his stomach.

     Deciding he wanted this to get done sooner rather than later, Postal Dude swiftly lifted up his tongue, causing you to harshly bonk and scrape your head upon the rough ridges at the roof of his mouth before you practically slid back down the slick, slippery slope that was the surface of his tongue, and in towards his gullet. 

     In a sudden spurr of desperately pumping adrenaline, you firmly grasp both hands onto Postal Dude’s uvula, haul yourself up onto it, and hold on tight. However, this did not seem to phase the psychotic, battle-hardened man on the outside in the slightest. Instead of making him throw you up, or spit you out, or anything else of that similar nature, all he did in response to your despairing plight for survival, was just simply, swallow.

     Of course, it would take a lot more than just one gulp to send you down into the esophagus, but Postal Dude was determined to not let this perceived initial success of you not being squelched down instantly make you feel like there was still any hope for survival. Swiftly swallowing again, your hands suddenly begin to slip from their positions on the uvula as its slick, smooth nature makes it exceedingly difficult for you to keep your grip.

     Finally, Postal Dude swallowed one more time, and then, it was over. At last plummeting from your prior position on the uvula, the epiglottis covered up the entrance to the windpipe as the esophagus was left wide open, waiting oh so patiently for you to dive down into its tight, goopy confines, and squeeze you on down to your doom.

     Once your body was all the way within, reality at last hit. As your eyes widen in sudden mortal terror for your very life, you begin to do what little you could within the narrow, constricting area of the esophogas to push and shove with all your might against the squelching tunnel’s hold, begging and praying to yourself that somehow, someway, this would guide you towards survival.

     Unfortunately for you, to Postal Dude on the outside was nothing more than amused by your pathetic, futile resistance. Placing a finger upon the slight, shifting bulge you made in his throat, the sadistic man couldn’t help but let out a bout of hearty laughter at your struggles, that which you were able to hear from the inside, causing your heart to seemingly halt its pumping for but one mere second.

     Speaking of hearts, however, it wouldn’t be long until your anguished wriggling kicked back up as the pounding beat of Postal Dude’s heart at last became audible. At this point, your form had all but disappeared behind the larger man’s collarbone, and as such, all he could do now was just sit back against the brick, alley wall, and wait for the plunge to commence.

     Though you had done pretty much everything in your power to stop it, the ambient gurgles of the stomach began to echo and reverberate all around you as you were squeezed through the lower esophageal sphincter, plunging deep down into the acidic gastric juices of Postal Dude’s stomach with a great big *SPLASH*!

     Able to somewhat feel his stomach juices sloshing around as you splashed down into it, Postal Dude teasingly began to poke at his belly, before giving it a great big slap, causing you to once again tumble over and get your face and eyes soaked even further with the acids.

     Painfully rubbing the searing liquids from your cornea, you immediately began realizing just what was going to happen to you now that you were here. You felt your body spasming. You felt your mind cracking. And then you felt your instincts violently thrust over any other forms of thought that had previously been occupying your brain, practically flinging yourself onto the squishy, pillowy walls of the stomach, pounding and kicking upon them with all of your might while Postal Dude on the outside merely let out a great big laugh.

     “Oh, you really think that you have a chance, don’t you? Any sort of a chance? Any at all? Any kind at fucking all?” he mockingly sneered at your positively overwhelmed, broken form, as the more acids began to trickle in.

     At first, it was just a slight searing pain in your feet as you let out a yelping noise and practically tumbled over, causing you to land backwards into the pool of acids once more. Then, when you lifted your hand out of the churning goop, your heart sank straight into your sole, before at last, you had had enough. Only able to discern but the shocking, dysmaying finality of your current situation and at last somewhat accept that there was absolutely no hope for you left, your brain finally shut down, and your unconscious body plunged back straight into the gurgling, shifting pool, the activity within the organ having ramped up significantly since your arrival. And now that it had no resistance to speak of to work against, the stomach was finally free to churn you into mush.

     Having seen in your final moments that the liquids had already begun to sear off many layers of your skin until they were nothing more than liquid goop, Postal Dude’s stomach continued to glorp and churn as it seeped deeper and deeper into the melted gooey layers of skin that had previously been melted away, in order to get at the fresh ones and succumb them to the same fate. It wouldn’t take long before all of your skin layers were burned through, and the acids began working away at your muscles. Breaking down all the fibrous layerings of your strong, meaty brawn, at long last, there was nothing left for the acids to melt away at than your bones, and the acids began eagerly working at these skeletal remains with nothing but great, unaware indifference as layer after layer of bone exterior continued to melt and liquify away, until at last the acids breached into the spongy cartilage within. Finally, after a few seconds of searing away at the soft inner structure, the acids now had made their way, at long, long last, all the way down to the marrow. With a few gurgles and a growl, the once living, breathing form of your very body that had , once upon a time, held within it all of your love, hate, memories, and experiences, was now reduced to nothing more than goopy pudge that was to be churned up, homogenized, and pumped through Postal Dude’s intestines.

     Ramping up the mixing and shifting of the walls even more, the loose remains of your previous form at last began to crumble away as each gooey body part was broken off from the other while it swirled and shifted around in the homogenizing soup that was Postal Dude’s stomach chyme.

     When at last the mixture was well blended and uniform throughout, the stomach activity at last settled down, and Postal Dude let out a rather satisfied sigh, before all the air that had previously gotten trapped within his guts from all the swallowing he had to do to get you off his uvula at last came up in a great, big belch.

     Giving an asserting, cheeky smile, Postal Dude began to pat and rub over his still-busy stomach, which was currently in the process of churning the cellular slush of what was once you into his small intestine through the duodenum, continuously grumbling and growling as it did.

     Now that the process was over at last, Postal Dude slowly picked himself up off the alley floor, and began to walk out towards the street, with nothing more than a grin on his face, and a meal in his guts.

     “Oh, look at all these sweet, innocent pedestrians.” he began to lament to himself in his head as his tongue began to salivate wildly. “Absolutely no clue, no clue at all! That every single one of them has almost the exact same  potential to be next.”

[tiesthatbind-tf]

A lad finally gets some of that coveted spotlight!

Benjamin Bane (just Ben or Benji, thanks) may be the youngest of the active Autobot team as their sprightly scout who’s got a chip on his shoulder he wants to hurl into the next Functionist or Decepticon picking on him for his size, and who’s been through quite a bit despite his age, if the burn on his left arm, the slide bite on his right hand  and the multitude of old cigarette burns he’s reluctant to explain are anything to go by.

When not on the field, he’s an avid dancer (with a love for ballet, something he could only pursue in secret until recently, and something which forms the core of his offensive style) and a good enough artist that he, alongside Mirage, are the two assigned to decorate armor for the team.

His smiley, chirpy facade hides quite a couple of issues, including PSTD and self-esteem issues, anxiety attacks, and an urge to please those he trusts even if it comes at his detriment.

More to his story below. (TW for child abuse)

Benjamin Bane (Bumblebee) would be hard-pressed to come up with a single good memory concerning his biological family during his childhood, and not for the lack of trying.

Born to an upper middle-class family in New York comprising a bullish, hot-tempered police sergeant father and a housewife mother, he grew up in the shadow of the son his father, who came from a family of law enforcers, wanted him to be in order to carry on the family legacy.

That he was a gentle, bubbly, sensitive child who loved following his mother around in the kitchen and spending his free time drawing did not bode well for the image his father wished to portray, and it didn’t take long for the discipline intended to mold him into a ‘man’ to become horrifically physical when he was barely five.

His mother, already used to his old man’s temper and quick hand, would often step in to take the punishment meant for him whenever he did something undesirable, though she couldn’t save Ben from the man’s wrath completely, and by the time he was nine, he was never seen without a hoodie in school and had perfected every excuse he’d been told to repeat when asked why he could not take it off or why he would come in on some days with a split lip.

He was small for his size, quiet, and took great pains not to be noticed, which had the opposite effect of making him the target of every other larger child looking to blow off steam, and he became good at running.

Really good.

There was no running from home however, home where the walls were insulated so neighbours wouldn’t hear what was happening within, and while some days would be better than others, there wasn’t a moment that he didn’t break into a cold sweat whenever he heard his father’s footsteps approaching his room.

With his mother unable to bear more children due to an illness, his father furiously continued with the campaign (sometimes the carrot was used  though mostly it was the stick) to mold him into the son the man wanted, so he could make the cut during the streaming process prior to high school where students would be sorted into their future occupational classes.

What support he might have had from his mother in his young years also evaporated, as she pushed him to be the son his father needed him to be to keep the peace, putting the weight of the household’s sanctity on his slight  shoulders.

He was forced into marksmanship lessons (where his first attempt to fire a gun went awry and left him with a deep slide bite wound), multiple self-defence classes to toughen him up (helpful for bullies whenever they didn’t come in packs), and a series of workouts to encourage a growth spurt so he could catch up to other potential cadet  candidates.

The little sliver of hope that he would be good enough to make the junior police  cadets went up in smoke when he was assigned to the manual class instead, owing to his size and his visceral aversion to handling firearms.

Branded as worthless and only good for paying off the ‘debt’ accumulated from the classes his father had earlier forced him into, Ben entered high school with his self-esteem scrapping at topsoil and digging deeper, and had it not been for a chance encounter with another boy who was evading a group of military-classed students intending to instil a lesson about talking back to those higher in the hierarchy, it might have dug itself into a grave.

The boy, who introduced himself as Guillermo ‘Memo’ Gutierrez after Ben dutifully sent the bullies scattering, was also assigned to the manual class and both of them  decided to stick together for safety in numbers.

Ben had ruefully accepted his lot in life after years of being broken and beaten down. Memo, however, had a loving and supportive family; this kept the spark of his defiance to the system alive and he kindled it in Ben’s by giving his friend a safe space to escape to whenever the situation at Ben’s home became too intense.

Among Memo and Memo’s family was the first time where Ben opened up about his interests, could speak freely and found acceptance for what he liked and who he was.

The desire to reclaim the things he loved pushed him to seek out part-time work, which he eventually found after befriending a girl, Charlie Watson, who had helped put an end to the harassment he and Memo endured at school by playing the hierarchy to their favour and wielding her Navy ‘prime-pick’ status.

That she actually wanted nothing to do with the class she was pushed into (Navy) and wished to pursue a career in automotives despite parental objections was something that she and Ben bonded over, and she brought him to the scrapyard her uncle ran where he found work sorting out car parts and helping perform repairs.

He began to pursue art and dance in secret with part of his pay (keeping his sketchbooks and supplies at Memo’s place and taking dance lessons under the guise of after-class study sessions), while saving up the rest and planning for the day he would eventually break free of his father, ‘debt’ or no ‘debt’.

During this time, he subtly packed away important items and was careful not to anger his old man more than his mere presence already did on a good day——something which would become increasingly hard when the Clampdown began.

He would hear his father rant over the dinner table about how ungrateful the protesters who were made up mostly of the Manual Class were, how they weren’t worth the safety net they were demanding for the job they were doing, how they needed to know their place.

He would hear, as time went by, about how his father would beat the ones who were arrested, and more than once, how he would be killed if he, as the man’s son, ever did something as stupid and insolent as that.

He bit his tongue through all this and reluctantly refused Memo’s offer to join a peaceful protest for better wages and workplace compensation.

The protest turned violent after police assaulted those taking part however, and as he watched the news hoping to see if Memo was alright, he saw his friend among those who were tossed into the dreaded black vans to be brought over to stations for interrogation.

His father, fielding a call from a colleague about the batch of protesters being brought in, told them to separate the adults from the teenagers, who would be easier to break, and it was at this point Ben’s spark turned into a bonfire.

As his father got dressed for work, he crept into the man’s study and managed to figure out the combination to the safe where the man’s gun was kept, retrieving it and aiming it at the police sergeant who came in and demanded for him to stand down.

Ben, in turn, demanded for his father to call the station and have Memo released, and when his father laughed at his audacity, mocked the way his hands shook while he was holding the gun and threatened to beat him senseless once this was all over, he shot the man close enough to the head to clip an ear to prove a point, before repeating his demand again.

This time, his father complied and called the station to order for Memo’s release; Ben’s relief however was all the momentary lapse of guard that his father needed to rush in and attempt to wrest the gun back, and in the struggle, he accidentally shot his father in the knee.

Under the hail of threats on how he was going to die once his father got hands on him, Ben flung the gun where the man could not reach, grabbed one of the bags he had secretly packed and ran out of the house to the screams of his mother.

He called Charlie and explained the situation to her, as both of them made their way to the station where his father worked to pick up Memo, who was confused about the state of affairs.

At 18 years, Ben was now a fugitive who could no longer go home; Memo brought him to the manual class district where Ben could hide among allies, and it was here that he spent a few months in hiding, disguised as a manual worker.

However, still fully terrified at the thought of his father eventually hunting him down within the confines of the city, he made plans to leave and head to the West Coast, far away from any chance that he would meet his old man by accident on the streets.

To his surprise,  Charlie and Memo elected to join him in the move, and the three of them left together on a  Greyhound bus; Him to escape his father, Charlie to escape her future with a military complex which her father died for and Memo to protect his family after he was named a person of interest in the protest.

However, they were forced to stop in Texas when police were inspecting passing buses for runaway Cold Constructs. Here, they met Ian Hart (Ironhide), a rancher secretly helping Cold  Constructs escape ownership by crossing over into Mexico to start new lives.

Ian, seeing how they ran from the bus, assumed they were young Cold Constructs and immediately took them in and offered them shelter; when they explained their situation, he kept his offer, letting them stay until they had their plans sorted out and paying them for work done on his ranch in the meantime.

All three of them grew fond of him and spent a month working on his ranch, helping out equally between his longhorn cattle and the Cold Constructs who would come in scared, starving, and seeking refuge from bounty hunters looking to bring them back to the establishments they were assigned to.

Someone however, had gotten wind of Ian’s clandestine operation, and the man was arrested during a midnight raid, though not before he flung Ben, Charlie and Memo into a secret basement with three Cold Constructs who he told them to help cross the border the next day.

They did as they were told, but decided to return to the ranch to figure out how to help Ian, and when they came back there, it was to come face to face with two strangers who were also seeking Ian after seeing him on the news.

These strangers introduced themselves as Omar Parvez (Optimus Prime), Jace Zayden (Jazz) and Preston Wan (Prowl), members of a rebellion that had sprung up in the UK, and upon hearing that they had been with Ian for the past month, requested for their help in tracking the man down to save him from a terrible fate at the hands of government interrogators.

Realising that they were now caught up in something bigger than they ever imagined, Ben nonetheless accepted the request, unwilling to stand back and do nothing while a good man suffered.

Youth, size and a lifetime of abuse would not be an obstacle to him helping someone else, especially with his best friends  by his side.

[animeyanderelover]

You said you're gonna open requests for a short time today, so are they opened now? Feel free to ignore this if they're not opened yet. Can I request prompt 109 with Kanato please?

You sent them in in the right timing, don’t worry.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationship, unhealthy mindset, possessiveness, obsessiveness, bipolar behavior, chocking, screaming, pushing, violence, vicious behavior

Prompt 109: “I know she’s cute. BUT SHE’S MINE! TOUCH HER AND I’LL KILL YOU!!”

The air had had turned all so sudden so incredibly suffocating, way more than you had ever expected it to be. And given the fact that you had experienced something like this already so often, way too often, it led your lips to wobble and your knees to nearly give in. All you really could do in that moment was staring with wide and teary eyes at the purple-haired boy who was just standing in the doorframe, a weirdly unreadable expression on his face. It made all the nerves in your body go crazy. This wasn't good. He was quiet! Way too quiet for his character. There was no rage, no anger nothing in his eyes. Why was he so emotionless? Shouldn't he be yelling, screaming, hurting someone right now?

Chances were that he would let his ire out on you, something you were terrified off. You hadn't forgotten the last time you had left him unsatisfied and jealous. Your body hadn't forgotten it either, the bruises still not fully healed. Backing away wasn't a good idea either or else you would bump into his brother Ayato. Both were currently doing some sort of glaring contest, Ayato having narrowed his eyes in an annoyed manner and Kanato still having this frightening hollow and penetrating look in them. And you poor victim found yourself stuck between those two, feeling like you were just dust right now since no one of them was currently even noticing your presence. But you didn't dare to move, if you were honest you couldn't even. Your body was neglecting you the ability to move, your instincts clearly stopping you from pulling the attention back on you.

The fact that no one had said anything for a while was even more nerve wrecking, it made it harder to judge what they would do next. All you could suspect was that they might just start attacking each other without you even having time to react. It was so unbelievably silent that you could hear everything right now, thw wind blowing outside the window, the slight breathing of Ayato and Kanato and most of all your own heartbeat which was drumming like crazy against your chest. Could they hear it as well? In your opinion it was painfully loud, but it seemed they were busy with other things.

"That's ridiculous! (y/n), come over here. Now!", you flinched when you heard Ayato speaking for what felt like the first time in ages up, shifting with a weak heart around to him. He didn't even bother to spare you a look, he just continued to glare at his brother, clearly bothered with what Kanato had just said to him. You knew that both of them weren't guys to share, no one from those six was. But if you had to share the ones who were the baddest to deal with, you would give the trophy without a doubt to the triplets, all of them were horrible beings. But for you Kanato had always been the worst. He was incredibly dangerous, more than Ayato, more than Laito.

You just couldn't judge him and that made you feel scared. You never knew how he would react to this or that, if his reaction would be a positive one, if you could call him being bratty and annoying positive, or a bad one, the kind of reaction where he started shouting at you, grabbed you by your throat and pushed you around like you were some ragdoll. He was unhinged, unstable and for that you had never been able to understand him and his way of thinking. He was unpredictable, a joker. With Ayato and Laito you had at least a bit of an easier time to forsee their actions.

But you were scared of them as well, making you hesitate when you heard his demanding tone. Your throat had gone dry, your palms having become disgustingly sweaty so that you started to wipe them on the fabric on your clothes. Should you go to him? But what would Kanato do if you would? On the other hand, what would Ayato do if you wouldn't? "(y/n)." When you heard Kanato's voice, you instantly turned around, an unpleasant feeling creeping up your spine when hearing his voice. It had been a lot less harsh and loud like Ayato's voice had sounded like, but it had this certain something in it that would have managed to give people far less cowardly than you the chills.

You were met with dull purple eyes, a hidden insanity hidden inside of them that made you unconsciously step back a bit, noticed instantly by Kanato judging from the way his eyes shifted to your legs. And he didn't seem to like it one bit, pressing Teddy slightly tighter against his chest. "Y-you aren't trying to leave me for him, do you?"His voice was wavering, you as well as Ayato slowly seeing his hollow facade crumbling. It was an alarming thing to see, making you almost instantly step closer to him, fear taking control over your body, not wanting to anger him.

But this small action led to an instant small enragement from the red-haired boy. "What do you think you're doing, small pancake? Get back here this instant! You belong to Yours Truly!" You froze, mind being torn apart between listening to him or Kanato. "(y/n)." Kanato had stretched his hand out a bit, holding it in your direction. On the first glance it might have looked like a silent plead. But it wasn't the feeling you were getting from him. You could sense it in his eyes. It was a silent ordre, a clear warning to not even think about turning around, to not abandon him for his brother. Or else...

You heard Ayato tsk'ing, clearly getting majorly annoyed with you and the situation. "Stupid thing. Do you seriously think that he can keep you safe from me? Do you think I didn't notice how you keep lingering near him and start avoiding others? Don't tell me you're listening to him now because you're afraid of him." You tensed up when you heard him stepping closer to you, gaze being frozen on the ground. "You're scared, aren't you?" Another step closer, followed by another. How close was he by now?

You got your answer the moment you felt hair brushing against your cheeks, Ayato's face entering from the corner of your eyes your vision. "Do you expect me to care whether you're scared or not? The only reason you were brought here was to serve as a bloodbag, nothing more. You don't get to choose with whom you can stay or not. You don't have any power. I on the other hand have the right to decide over you. And if pain is really the way to make you submissive and obedient, I can give you that even better than he can. You're after all very cute when your face is scrunched up in pain. Should I show you?

You couldn't help tears falling down your face when you suddenly felt his hand wrapping around your throat, starting to squeeze it tightly and causing you to choke on the air. You felt nauseous the moment you saw the grin on his face obviously loving what he was seeing. "See? I can give you just what Kanato gives you all the time. You must like it if you stick close to him for that reason, right? I can make sure that you'll look even cuter when in pain. All for my eyes."

"I know she's cute." You turned your gaze through half-closed eyes to Kanato who was looking at you two with wide eyes, many emotions swimming in them. Ayato looked at him as well, clearly unimpressed by him. "So what?" He gave Kanato a slightly challenging look, pulling you with the hand wrapped around your throat closer to him, making you start seeing black spots.

"BUT SHE'S MINE!" The outburst was all so sudden that it catched you as well as Ayato by surprise, Kanato suddenly appearing right in front of you two, ripping Ayato's hand in a way away that made you fear he might twist your neck in the process and shoved you harshly aside. Your ass was met with the hard ground, making you twist your face a bit when you landed wrongly and started coughing, air suddenly filling your lungs again. "TOUCH HER AND I'LL KILL YOU!!"

You weren't surprised that Kanato hadn't been concerned the least bit about whether he would hurt you or not, having gripped Ayato's clothes and shaking him violently to which Ayato on the other hand tried to free himself, his hands pulling on Kanato's arms in an attempt to make him let go. You slowly crawled away from them, not wanting to risk getting caught in the fight. You better stayed away, especially from Kanato, he looked like he was seriously about to kill Ayato. His one hand had by now been placed right above the boy's throat, threatening to crush his neck at any moment. And Ayato seemed to sense the same thing, looking all of a sudden a bit stressed out.

"Fine then! Giving it a second thought, she's more boring anyways! You can keep that pathetic girl for yourself! She isn't worth all the troubles!" He jerked backwards, making Kanato lose hold on him, stumbling a bit clumsily back before straightening himself up. He turned around, shooting you a sharp glare before leaving that clearly told you that this had been your fault. Ayato hated losing to others. You had this nagging fear that he might try something later on. But you also knew that this was currently the smaller of the two problems.

"You ungrateful bitch! Why would you let him touch you?!" The second Ayato had completely left the room, you were already yanked upwards by Kanato, who looked wrathfully at you, making you burst out in tears once more. "You would have left me for him, wouldn't you?! Admit it!" You quickly shook your head, fearing that he might break your hands if he would add a bit more pressure. "I-I would never. I promise. I don't-don't plan on ever leaving you."

He stared intensely at you, obviously trying to judge whether you were telling the truth or not. The look in his eyes was fearsome, he had unleashed all his unstableness he had kept hidden before. "...I don't believe you."

A huge smile made it's way on his face, one that wasn't comforting at all. It was too big, looking like his mouth was hurting. Next to that it didn't reach his eyes and looked terribly fake to the extent that you felt bill raising up your throat.

"You're a liar. I don't like when people lie to me. And if someone lies, they have to be punished. That's what my mother always used to do to us when we were little." The next thing you knew was a mindbreaking pain filling all your senses.

[notchesandbullets]

An Unexpected Alteration to the Operation (Hak x Stubborn!Reader x Jae-ha)

Prompt: An undercover operation gone wrong, Jae-ha and Hak sweep in to show them not to mess with their girl. (Spoilers for the manga [Chp 81] and implied smut)

Protective! Hak x Stubborn! reader x Protective! Jae-ha

Words: 3.4k

Night was creeping up slowly, but the atmosphere was frigid inside the quaint hotel you and the dragons were all staying at. Not because of the temperature, but because two men were looking at you as if you had grown another head. Yoon and Yona had long since been asleep, exhausted by the day's events, and Shin-ah and Kija were keeping watch over them.

Violet and cerulean eyes narrowed at your innocent expression.

"I'll be fine." You insisted, almost rolling your eyes. You had been trying to convince them that your undercover plan was a good idea, and they weren't having it.

"You're not going." Hak stated flatly and Jae-ha nodded in agreement, causing you to raise an eyebrow. Those two never seemed to agree on anything except when it came down to keeping you safe.

"Hak, Kija and I are more than enough." Jae-ha reiterated what he had been saying for the past hour as they were preparing for the operation. This time, you did roll your eyes.

They were going to infiltrate the red-light district to find out who was smuggling nadai into the Water Tribe. The only issue was they had to be convincing as customers while not breathing in the toxic air or drinking the nadai-laced alcohol there.

Alright, you didn't want them to go for a number of reasons, even though you knew they could handle themselves in a fight. But you didn't like them fighting in a battle that you weren't going to be a part of, and you had every reason to be on the front lines this time around.

"And I'm supposed to ignore that you willingly took the nadai, right? That you were fully aware of what it was, and yet you still took it." You jabbed a finger at his chest. "I had to watch you writhe in agony for hours on that bed and there was nothing that I could do about it."

The green dragon winced at your harsh tone, but knew that you were upset at him for putting you through that. To be fair, he didn't expect it to have that kind of effect, but the look of pain on your face when he woke up wasn't worth it.

Neither was Hak's punch to his face, but somehow that was more bearable than seeing you hurting.

"I'm going." You said with finality. Hak and Jae-ha shared a look.

Then, you were staring at the ground.

You thumped on Hak's back. "Hak!! Put me down!!" He had slung you over his shoulder and Jae-ha just lifted his hands up in mock innocence.

You puffed out your cheeks. The traitor.

"Sure, sure," He said dryly. "In a second."

You struggled in his hold the entire way to your room. He practically flung you down on the bed with such force, causing you to bounce several times upon impact. You glared at him, but Hak brushed it off. You glanced over to Jae-ha for help, but in a fraction of a second, he was on top of you.

"Jae-ha!" You yelled out in surprise and then shock as you tried to move your arms. He had tied your wrists to the headboard! You growled, eyes flashing in anger, but stopped struggling when you saw the hidden fear lingering in the depths of their eyes.

They really were scared for you, of what would happen if you went there and things went wrong. They were worried they couldn't protect you. Hak and Jae-ha both agreed that they would live and die for you and Yona. The red-haired princess was the heart and soul of their entire group. She bound them all together, connecting each of them to the others in the process.

But you, you were their lover. You were their entire world.

If anything happened to you, they would never forgive themselves. You went lax in the bed as realization dawned on you. They were already so critical of themselves. Jae-ha for being the oldest in the group, excluding Zeno's immortality, felt responsible for everyone. And you knew Hak still felt guilt and resentment towards himself for not being able to protect the king the night of his murder.

"If you behave, we'll reward you later." Hak promised, leaning over to press a chaste kiss to your forehead.

"Ah, Y/N," Jae-ha's eyes sparkled with playfulness. "You get to have fun when we get back." He winked and you blushed under the circumstances.

They departed with a wave of farewell, and you let out a heavy sigh.

Sorry, Jae-ha, Hak... There's no way I'm not going to be by your side.

You wiggled your hands, grinning when you felt them loosen. Jae-ha always tied them so you had the option to slip out of them, when the three of you did, other things.

It seemed it was Jae-ha's second nature by now, and you were lucky that it was. You leaped up out of the bed, snatching the dress you picked up earlier and got ready quickly.

You had to hurry if you were going to slip in with the other girls.

As soon as you were satisfied with your appearance, you ran off into the night. You found the red-light district easily, and as soon as you stepped inside, you ran into the girl from earlier, A-Rin.

You held up your finger to your lips as you saw her eyes flash in recognition. The men were still lurking around, which meant that Hak, Jae-ha and Kija hadn't carried out their plan yet. But they were nowhere to be found, which meant that it was already underway.

You subtly gathered the girls into the back of the store, but you were being too obvious.

"Hey! You!" Your head snapped up at his grating voice. "What do you think you're doing?!"

You covered half of your face behind your hand, smiling brightly, eyes crinkling at the corners giving off faux innocence. "I just thought the customers could use more alcohol, my lord."

He scoffed at you and you resisted the urge to wipe the smirk off of his face. "You can do that yourself."

You bowed your head, submitting to his authority. As soon as he was out of earshot, you turned to the terrified girls beside you. "On my signal, make sure you stay behind me." You whispered.

They nodded, and then they scattered. You picked up a jug of alcohol, most likely laced with nadai, carrying it to one of the rooms. As you slid the door open, your eyes met Kija's shocked ones calmly. There was one other girl in the room, and your eyes landed on her darkened fingernails. It would seem she was an addict too. You gestured for him to stay quiet and he shut his mouth, slipping back into character.

He quickly poured the nadai laced drink down to the floor, ignoring the other girl's protests. But her voice caught the attention of one of the nearby men who was walking by and you gritted your teeth.

"Kija!" You cried out, wrapping your arms around the trembling girl as she screamed. He slashed at the man with his dragon claw, knocking him out cold. "Go! I'll take care of the rest!"

He nodded, then sped off. You gritted your teeth as you assessed the situation. The men started to surround you. It would be at least a few minutes before Jae-ha and Hak made it to this room. You needed to hold them off for as long as possible.

"Stay behind me." You instructed the girl who was shaking in fear behind you, and shielded her from their sight with your body. "I won't let them hurt you."

Your teeth bared in a snarl as the first one launched himself at you, but you caught him in his stomach with a punch. As he flew back, another took his place and you unleashed a series of kicks that Jae-ha had taught you.

He fell but there were too many of them. You dodged their attacks, striking where you could but it wasn't enough. You struggled to maintain your ferocity, adrenaline pumping through your veins but then you saw one of them reach for the girl behind you.

"DON'T TOUCH HER!!!" You screamed, tackling him to the ground, landing a flurry of punches on his face. You were pulled off of him by the others. As you violently struggled in their grasp, your eyes locked on the terrified girl's.

"Run!!!" You managed to yell out before a hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off your air supply. She fled the room, and that brought you a small sense of comfort. They started tearing at your clothes, scratching your skin with their dark fingernails. They didn't have any weapons, but their grips were tight and you could feel the bruises starting to form at your neck and arms.

Hak... Jae-ha....

The door burst open, splintering under the force.

"Unhand her right now." Hak demanded, cobalt eyes black with rage.

Jae-ha's normally calm and pleasant features were contorted murderously, and his violet eyes flashed with fury as they landed on the bruises on your skin.

"You have two seconds to get away from her before I rip your throat out." Jae-ha snarled, baring his teeth venomously.

They rushed at the men. The pace that they cleared them out was alarming. Hak didn't have his spear, but his prowess in battle was never to be underestimated as you watched him deliver lethal blows to their throats and the back of their heads. The addicts crumpled under their attacks, each one faring worse than the last.

Jae-ha spun around in a blur of green, taking out anyone who rose from the ground after Hak was through with them. The nadai addicts were unable to feel pain due to the drug. This time, Jae-ha actually didn't mind it.

They had touched what was his.

He could kick them down as many times as he wanted and they would keep rising. His eyes glinted dangerously in the candlelight. They would never lay a hand on you again.

What you didn't see was the blatant anger behind their calculated strikes. You didn't notice that they injured the men, not immediately killing them, putting them through agony as Hak drove his fists into this flesh. He didn't stop until he saw blood. Jae-ha's mouth curled up in a sadistic smirk as he heard the shattering of bones, bringing down his dragon leg with everything he had.

Hak and Jae-ha were going to make them feel every ounce of pain they dared to put you through, piercing through the nadai haze.

None escaped their wrath.

You wished you had enough energy to watch them. Then, you sunk to the ground, unable to stay upright any longer, completely exhausted.

"Y/N!!" Jae-ha called out, panicked, catching you swiftly as you fell. The men didn't get up anymore. They were either injured beyond repair or dead. "You have to stay awake!"

"Kija?" Hak frantically turned to the white dragon, who urged him on.

"It is finished." Kija responded, turning to the men that were still alive, now tied up. "Leave the rest to me."

The Thunder Beast gave him a nod of thanks, before picking you up in his arms. Jae-ha followed him all the way back to the inn, keeping an eye out for any stragglers. He was wary the entire way back, but Hak's body was tense with anger.

He let out a soft sigh.

Children... So troublesome... He thought tenderly to himself as he watched Hak settle you into bed, taking a seat next to you. Jae-ha followed in shortly after, tucking the blankets under your chin snugly.

"Yoon should look at her." Hak broke the silence and Jae-ha nodded.

"I'll go get him."

As he got to his feet, Hak stopped him. After the events of this night, he wasn't willing to take any chances. "Be careful." His dark blue eyes were serious.

Jae-ha shot him a confident smirk. "When am I not?"

He sped quickly down the hall, entering the room. Shin-ah was asleep not too far away from the princess and their little doctor. Jae-ha immediately shook the youngest awake.

"Yoon." The pretty boy groggily opened his eyes. "Y/N's hurt."

Yoon shot up, nearly knocking Jae-ha over as he tore past him in his haste to get to you. Besides Jae-ha and Hak, you were closest to Yoon. He cared about you so much, even if he had an interesting way of showing it. But you always prioritized his and Yona's safety so much so that you were always getting hurt trying to protect them.

He flung open the door, panting heavily. Hak hadn't moved from your side, but gestured for Yoon to keep quiet.

"She's asleep." Hak informed him as the pretty boy took a place on the opposite side of him. "She passed out on the way back."

The dress you had put on was nearly shredded, angry, red marks darting into view from underneath the fabric as you breathed.

"She wasn't supposed to be there." Yoon snapped. "What happened?"

Jae-ha closed the door softly behind him, alerting Yoon of his presence. "We don't know exactly." He exchanged a worried look with Hak.

Then, guilt flickered over his expression. Hak looked at the older man curiously. Jae-ha's eyes were shadowed. Hak stood up, walking to the green dragon as the kid fussed over you.

"The knot." Jae-ha whispered. "I tied it like I always do. She must have slipped out of it."

Hak stiffened, then punched him in the gut.

Hard.

Yoon nearly leaped to the ceiling, eyes bugging out of his head when he saw the Thunder Beast hit the Ryokuryuu full force.

"Not your fault." Hak stated firmly, flexing his hand open and close as Jae-ha stared at him, dumbfounded, wheezing in staggered breaths. "Wipe that guilt off of your face, you'll make Y/N cry."

Jae-ha chuckled softly as he finally caught his breath, gaze oddly appreciative as Hak went back to your side. He knew it was Hak's way of snapping him out of it. Neither one of them could find it in themselves to be angry with you, they knew what they signed up for when they started this little arrangement. They knew you were headstrong, but even more so when their lives were the ones in danger.

Love certainly made people do crazy things.

And Hak and Jae-ha would give you the world if they could. You stirred, and Jae-ha caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Pushing himself off the wall, he went to your side, staring at you intently.

Hak looked like the embodiment of tranquility, but his knee was bumping against Jae-ha's nervously and if Jae-ha peered closer, he was sure he would be able to see the terror hidden in the depths of his eyes. The former general did his best to school his expression, but you and Jae-ha had learned to read him like a book over time.

You blinked your eyes open slowly. Your eyelids felt so heavy, and you wondered why it felt as though you fell from a height of five stories. You tried to sit up, but a firm hand pushed you back down by your shoulders.

"You're not going anywhere." Hak ordered, tone leaving no room for argument.

"Lay back down." Jae-ha echoed firmly.

You pouted and the men suppressed a groan. You were too tempting even in this situation. You didn't do as they said, choosing instead to sit against the headboard.

"She's fine." Yoon reassured, mistaking the tense atmosphere for concern. He wasn't wrong, but this time around, the pretty boy genius wasn't completely right either.

"She's got a couple of cuts and some bruises, but nothing major. She'll heal soon, but," You winced as Yoon turned his sharp gaze on you. "No more fighting."

You grinned sheepishly. "Yes, mother."

"I DON'T REMEMBER GIVING BIRTH TO YOU!!" Yoon yelled, throwing up his hands in exasperation before filing out of the room, muttering about how 'it was said once and now it wouldn't go away' for the life of him. He's dealt with you enough for one night. He was sure Hak and Jae-ha could straighten you out.

With the three of you left in the room, you nearly collapsed under the weight in the air as it shifted from concerned to heated. You met Hak's cobalt eyes guiltily, flickering to Jae-ha's burning violet, then back again.

You opened your mouth to speak, but was cut off as Jae-ha's lips smashed onto yours.

You let out a muffled squeak, eyes automatically closing. You almost jumped out of your skin as a pair of hands landed on your hips, urging you to scoot forward. You did so, with a little difficulty, doing your best not to break your kiss with Jae-ha. Hak started to kiss the back of your neck, sucking gently on your sweet spot, causing you to moan into Jae-ha's mouth.

Jae-ha pulled back, panting heavily, violet eyes swirling with desire. Your head fell back onto Hak's shoulder as Jae-ha started to gently kiss over the bruises that had formed on your neck.

Hak's breath was hot on your ear as he breathed, "Do you have any idea how badly you scared us today? Huh, Y/N? Do you like watching us lose control of ourselves around the people who hurt you?"

You whimpered pathetically at his words, wanton hunger shooting through your body at his words instead of humiliation. Jae-ha traveled lower, marking up your collarbones.

"Y/N..." He whispered, an unspoken question hanging in the air.

Your fist had since made its way up to your mouth in an attempt to stifle the embarrassing sounds that were spilling from your mouth. You almost didn't hear Jae-ha's question. Hak hadn't stopped murmuring in your ear, and his words were making you flush all over.

"You liked watching us like that? Knowing that the only people who will ever be able to touch you like this is us. You're ours." He nearly growled, fingers tightening into the flesh of your hips.

You mewled wantonly at his words, closing your eyes.

"Y/N." Jae-ha's velvety voice cut through your desire-induced haze. "Let us hear you."

You didn't bring down your hand, so Hak did it for you, weaving his fingers with yours, dropping it back down to the sheets. You squeaked as Hak pulled you against his chest, blushing as you felt his hard muscle against your back through the clothes.

Jae-ha pulled off your tattered dress, leaving you only in a cloth covering your chest and your underclothes. He leaned up to kiss you again, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

"Do you want this?" He asked heatedly, breath fanning against your exposed skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "Tell us what you want, Y/N..."

You bit your lip and Jae-ha let out a low groan.

"I want you." You paused, tilting your head up to meet Hak's lidded gaze. "Both of you."

The growls they let out made your core heat up, and you pressed your thighs together. The movement didn't go unnoticed by your attentive lovers and Jae-ha settled between your thighs after coaxing them open. With him directly in front of you and Hak pressed behind you, the fire radiating off of them was making your head spin.

"C'mon," You breathed, tired of their teasing. "Please."

Hak shot a smirk to Jae-ha. He loved it when you got like this. When he reduced you to a babbling, incoherent mess beneath him and all you could do was moan and chant his name over and over again as he drove into you at a maddening pace.

"Hak," You swiveled your head to meet their eyes, both blown wide with lust. "Jae-ha."

Jae-ha's breath hitched in his throat and Hak almost passed out from the next words that left your lips in a whisper.

"Take me."

[philicheesecake]

(U. L.) An Impossible Defeat

Synopsis: After he survived witnessing the giant’s Banding, Warren seems to be the target of a vengeful giant. It seems just quitting the Unseen Legion was not enough to protect him.

Warnings: PARTIAL HARD VORE, GRAPHIC SEVERE INJURIES, PARTIAL DIGESTION, NEAR DEATH, F/M halfsize unwilling nonfatal vore, fatal mention,

((Phili’s note: 

Me: takes 4 months to write one U.L. story  Also me: Writes this story the next day in under 24 hours OHhhh yeah babyee we movin’ along! And yeah I got pretty violent for this one, so if you’re squeamish, I would be cautioned. Also if ye like this story, go ahead and reblog! It helps spread my work and it means a lot! ^w^ ))

“Well I came a long way to be here today

And I left you so long on this avenue

And here I stand In the strangest land

Not knowing what to say or do”

The windows of the old silver Civic were rolled down and the speakers blared the upbeat tunes of Electric Light Orchestra. Warren had his elbow propped out the window, some aviator sunglasses, and his hair blowing back in the mountain breeze that gushed through the windows. He was belting out the lyrics of the tune, stumbling over some of the lyrics, but he didn’t care. His voice was high and steady despite his stumbling over the words. 

“As I gaze around at these strangers in town

I guess the only stranger is me”

Unknown to the ex-hunter, something with glistening eyes followed from within the treeline. Its speed rivaling a racehorse, though quieter than a cat. Its figure was too fast to be seen beyond a subtle blur past the treeline as a hulking silhouetted shape masked by the glare of the setting sun.

“And I wonder, Oh I wonder

Is this the way life’s meant to be?”

He was having a great time with the free air. No more U. L. missions. No more giants or near-death experiences. Just him and his friends about to meet up at a concert out of town to have a fun evening. The sun was beginning to descend over the road, casting its golden glare over the windshield. In his mind, he might’ve been a Lone Ranger riding into the sunset. He had seen some things no one else would believe. That alone could power a Western film. 

Though he was beginning to associate dusk with death, he was safe in his car. Nothing could get him here. He’d be with his friends when he got into town. Safety in numbers, right?

“Although it's only a day since I was taken away

And left standing here looking in wonder”

The figure in the tree line burst out. Warren didn’t notice it immediately with the sound of blaring music, but one glimpse at the rearview mirror showed what was going on. “OH SHIT--!”

A giant. Seriously? What sort of gods decided to toy with Warren’s luck at this point? This was just ridiculous at this point. He thought he could recognize the figure. Long white dreadlocks, dark skin, flashing silver eyes. She was even taller than Eli by a good two feet. She had a weird name, but Warren couldn’t remember exactly what Eli had called her back then. Not that he cared. His first thought was getting the hell out of here.

“Oh, the ground at my feet, maybe it's just the old street

But everything that I know lies under”

The melodic voice continued on, despite the alarm in the situation. The sheer contrast only seemed to add to the stress of the situation. 

He stepped on the gas, speeding faster. The giant was in hot pursuit, soon practically on the car’s bumper. Her claws dug into the asphalt, powering her unbelievable speed. 60 mph. She was still not lagging behind. 

Her claws lashed out and she lunged forward, digging her claws into the back of the car and pulled herself half-onto it while her feet dug into the ground to gain traction. The car screeched, lurching to a halt. Warren was thrown over the steering wheel and the impact jammed into his ribs causing a painful crack. 

He wheezed, blinking through the adrenaline to realize the car was at a complete halt, and the silver-haired giant was approaching the driver’s door. 

“And when I see what they’ve done to this place that was home,

Shame is all that I feel”

He gasped, almost immediately coughing from the pain of the shifting of his lungs disturbing a freshly cracked rib. He hastily unbuckled, trying to scoot away from the driver’s seat as the large figure stooped over the window. Her slit silver eyes peered in. An expression of complete indifference played on her face. No response to the intense fear he was feeling. It almost scared him more than any taunts. There was no connection of emotion. Just complete apathy.

“And I wonder, yes I wonder,

Is this the way life’s meant to be?”

The door was ripped from its hinges. Her clawed hand reached for him, trying to grab through the narrow space to get ahold of him. He scooted backwards. His breaths rattled in his chest. His heart pounded in his ears. Tears pricked the corners of his wide eyes as the claws barely skimmed him as they fought to gain purchase. He ducked beneath the console of the passenger’s seat, digging out his phone and his shaky fingers struggled to operate the device to send a hasty message. 

A crushing grip closed around his leg. He screamed.

“Too late, too late to cry, the people say

Too late for you, too late for me”

He was dragged out of the car, clawing for purchase. Trying to grab onto one of the seats or the steering wheel. His cracked ribs bumped painfully against the seats. She pulled him out of the car, hoisting him onto the air by his ankle.

“You've come so far, now you know everything, my friend

Look and see the wonders--”

Her ears twitched and she stomped her foot over the front of the car, smashing the radio. She didn’t seem to enjoy it. Without another word, she rose to her full height again, leaving the ground far below Warren as she began to walk back into the treeline. The ex-hunter whimpered, struggling to try to reach the hand that held his ankle. It was scary and disorienting to be held this high above the ground upside-down. A fall like this could break his neck, but not escaping would lead to certain death. He had encountered giants plenty enough times to get a pretty good idea about where this was going.

“P-please-- R-- Riki-- uh-- Riri--?” Warren struggled to remember her name, but honestly he couldn’t think at this point. 

To his surprise, she let out a cold laugh. “If that Arawn knew you called me that, he would have finished what he started last time.”

Warren shuddered, recalling how they had parted last time. She was climbing up a cliff and Eli had eaten him to protect him from the other giants. He had been certain he was going to die. 

“I--” “I should have known he had gone soft like his sister. I suppose I will soon deliver him the same fate as she has received. This human, however,” She lifted him higher so that they were practically face-to-face, just inches apart. He took in a shuddering gasp which stung his lungs. 

“It’s lived too long to see too much… Things that no human should have seen. Not that it makes any distinction from the rest of the humans.” She sighed and opened her mouth beneath him. His eyes widened and he flailed, trying to jerk away from her open mouth. He quickly reached up to dig into his pocket. His fingers nearly slipped to drop the object, but he caught it, unfolding a pocket knife. She gave him an unimpressed look, and her other hand reached up to grab it just as he managed to slash it across her face. “GAHH-!”

A growl sounded through her throat. Her hand crushed around his leg, snapping his bones like twigs and he screamed in pain. Her other arm reached up and gripped him roughly around the torso. Her teeth snapped over the knife-wielding hand and spat out the weapon onto the forest floor. Blood poured down from a slash across her face, dripping down from her chin. 

“I think that you’ll learn that fighting will only worsen things for you, human.” Her voice drawled. Warren cried, barely able to focus on her in the blinding pain. She shifted her grip to let go of his leg and reinforce her grip around his waist, beginning to lower him into her mouth backwards. Warren sucked in a terrified breath as his feet met the back of her tongue and she began to gulp them into her tight throat. Things were happening so fast. His shattered ankle screamed in protest as it was engulfed into the passage of rippling muscle. 

“No! Nono— wait—“ 

The giant swallowed again and he suppressed a shout of pain. Her legs were now fully encased in the throat and his lower torso was entering her maw. Fangs jabbed painfully around him. She clearly didn’t bother being careful about how rough she was in the process. The giant’s tongue slathered his torso in gross saliva as she gulped more of him down. The ex-hunter whimpered and grabbed for the edge of her jaws in a poor attempt to stop his descent. This only made things worse when she met the blockage. 

Her jaws widened for a second before crushing down over his chest, not enough to snap him in half, but enough to draw blood and hurt like hell. There was a distant scream of pain. He was getting lightheaded. He was losing blood, and was faintly aware of the feeling of blood dripping from his limp fingertips, and pooling our from her jaws. There was a hungry growl that sounded around the throat from the taste of his blood. The tongue cupped under him and she began to tilt her head back. He had lost the strength to struggle, in a state of shock and agony that made it too hard for him to think. 

Another swallow sounded around him, bringing his head into the mouth. His chest was squeezed into the too-tight throat which crushed his already cracked ribs. He was barely able to choke another breath through the pain. It was a frightening sight to see the jaws wide around him, the saliva dripping over his line of sight. The marks of his own blood trailing down from the fangs. He didn’t have the strength to struggle in his state of stupor and pain. 

One last gulp dragged him completely into the darkness, and his arms soon followed. He distantly felt pain shoot up his ankle as his feet began to press through the esophageal sphincter and the rest of him began to follow into the tight organ, forced to curl up in the claustrophobic space. As soon as his head and arms finally joined him, he coughed and gagged for air, finding it difficult to breathe with how much each breath hurt. The air was scalding and humid and burned his already aching lungs. The jagged movements of his rapid breaths only hurt his cracked rib further. He hugged his knees and cried. 

“R— Rikki— R— Rhyka— please— please don’t do this.” He barely managed to recall the giant’s name.

Rhyka ignored him. She couldn’t care less. The giant was so tall and broad that her stature nearly perfectly concealed the small imprint he made, and the only mark of his existence was subtle. It made it all too easy for him to be ignored. 

“L-listen, I’m…” he hissed in an anxious breath through his teeth, trying not to fully break down now. The heat was exhausting, and the main thing keeping him conscious was the intense pain. He just wanted it all to end, but at the same time, he didn’t want to die. Not like this. His sisters needed him, and he tried his best to not abandon them, only for his luck to turn for the worst once again. He could recall Olivia’s lessons on giants and hoped to god something might work here to give him a slim chance of survival. “R-Rhyka… I’m sorry humans drove giants into hiding. I— I wish things were— were different between our kinds… but— but killing people won’t fix that.”

To his surprise, the giant let out a laugh. “You truly believe that having a, ah, ‘heart-to-heart’ will spare your life here? Your kind is an inferior race. Weak. Pathetic. Even if your kind had not done what they did, it does not change the fact that we are the predators, and you are the prey.” 

Warren shuddered, biting back a sob of fear. “B— wait—“

“You could save your meager breaths now. I have heard all the same arguments. None sway me. Do yourself a favor and accept your fate.” 

Warren could feel the movement from her walking seem to settle. There was a dropping sensation and his environment seemed to tilt sideways. She must have laid down or something. He squirmed in place, biting back a hiss of pain as he had to reorient himself with his vulnerable broken shin and ribs. The puddle of fluids he was sitting in splashed over his face, making him sputter and cough weakly. He noticed a faint stinging and his heart rate picked up in alarm. Acids—? Giants only digest when they’re asleep… which meant Rhyka must be heading there now. 

“Wait— no—no— please— I— you can’t—“

He froze as he could hear the giant’s breaths slow to a more relaxed rate. She didn’t respond. His eyes widened in the darkness and he took in shaky breaths. An ominous growl sounded nearby from the organ. The puddle of fluids was half-filling the space now, and still having trouble to reorient himself, he had to sputter and squirm to avoid breathing in the stinging fluids. 

“Nononono— G-God— p-please…” he cried. He didn’t want to believe this. He didn’t want to die like this. He had dodged death before, he had to do it again. But Eli has told him time and time again he was weak, and he was right. 

The stomach groaned and clenched tightly around him, causing the level of fluids to rise briefly before the walls relaxed. He took in a sharp gasp of pain, bracing his shattered leg that just felt like pulp now. He could swear he felt something crack from the way his leg bent just then, feeling the limb was beyond repair. It was probably just held together by shredded muscle and tissue at this point. 

He was too tired and in too much pain to really fight back the oppressive stomach folds that began to clench around him more rhythmically. 

“I guess you’ll die then” Olivia’s voice echoed in his mind, recalling her lecture from before. 

Warren took in shaky breaths in the heat. Olivia had a point. She gave him lessons, and if he gave up, he would be dead. Not every giant would be generous enough to let him live. Rhyka wasn’t one of them. He had to think.

Olivia had mentioned a pressure point against the spine that could do… something? His brain felt foggy, but some part of him could recall that it might save his life. He hadn’t succeeded last time he tried. 

He grimaced as the stomach gurgled loudly again and its walls crushed in closer. The acids were beginning to sting worse. Burning at the bare skin of his hands and face. He held out his elbows on either side to hold the slimy walls off of his face, letting out a rasping breath through his teeth. He felt around in the darkness, trying to orient himself to figure out what was where. Doing some calculations based on how he had been swallowed, and the new position of the sleeping giant, he made a blind guess of an idea. He was facing the wrong way. Being swallowed feet-first and backwards, he was likely facing the outer wall of the stomach, instead of the vertebrae where his target lay. 

He grunted, twisting around in position and using his one good leg to try to reorient himself to face the spine. He had no idea if he was right about this, and every inch of the tight organ was identical. It was especially difficult to figure out if he had turned a 180 or just a few inches because of how disorienting the rippling muscles were, making his laborious movements either too small or too big to calculate. He settled at where he ended up, however, taking a moment to gather his breath. The heat was really making him feel like he was about to pass out, and he just wanted a break from the pain of his mangled leg and ribs. He couldn’t rest though. He had to at least try.

He leaned back as far as he could, using his hands to press himself backwards in the stomach as his one good leg kicked at the spine. There was no response, and he tried kicking everywhere along the opposing wall. Everything felt the same, so it was impossible to know how close he even was from it. The walls around him crushed in more tightly. He could barely breathe now. The fluids were rising higher. He was on the verge of passing out. The heat. His mind was numb and far away. His only thought was his sisters. He had to focus on them. He could barely even recall their faces. So tired...

Kick.

The tightening walls suddenly went limp, freeing the small pocket of air. Warren gasped for air, feeling lightheaded from all the effort. He didn’t know what happened. He didn’t even know if he had succeeded. Everything was too foggy to focus on. His mind slowly drifted from consciousness.

***

“Rrrg. Wha... what did you do… to me…?”

Warren was slowly brought to his senses by a rough jab that met his injured rib which prompted a scream of pain. He gasped, foggily beginning to regain his senses. Everything hurt. The first thing he noted was the voice… so loud and rumbling around him. There was a numbness around him. He could barely feel his limbs, but at the same time, he was faintly aware of a burning sensation covering everywhere. He was soaked to the bone by a deep pool of slimy fluids. It was hard to know how much of him was left, and if most of him already been melted away. The walls weren’t as active or crushing as they had been before. The place felt oddly dormant aside from an occasional groan or squelch from the environment, the sound of the giant’s breaths, and the thumping of her heart nearby. How long had he been in here?

“Wh…” Warren’s tongue felt like it wouldn’t cooperate enough to speak. “Whd’yamean…” He slurred. He couldn’t think. He was too tired. He just wanted this hell to end, whatever this hell was. 

“Don’t play stupid with me, human... You… you shouldn’t still be alive! What have you done to me?” Her voice almost sounded pained in a way, though his brain was too tired to pick up the tone. The jab once again met his side, though thankfully hit his shoulder this time. He weakly tried to raise his arm to push back. 

“D’nno… wha you… mean. Wh...what time’sssit…?”

The pressure increased by his side and he could hear a gurgle nearby. “I am finished with your games… Hunter. You will be dead soon enough… what… whatever tricks you are using will… wear off.”

“I.. I dunno wha-- what…” he took in deep breaths, on the verge of passing out again. He was faintly aware of a shifting from outside and the pressure lightened to be circular rubs. Any other moment he’d be indignant to the action, but right now, he was too tired to really think about it. There was definitely something off about her voice. She sounded… fatigued. He didn’t think into it.

“Please… j-just… just make it s-stop…” the ex-hunter groaned weakly. He was regaining awareness of the burning sensation around his skin. The pain from his broken leg and ribs. 

The giant didn’t respond aside from an annoyed growl that rumbled to her core as she rubbed the form in her stomach as if to help him digest faster. Her breaths began to calm again. He could hear another gurgle from the stomach and the dormant walls began to pick up their act again, rubbing against his skin and distributing the numb, stinging fluids over his skin. He didn’t bother squirming. He was too weak to think. Rebeka. Liss.

What were those names anymore? He could barely recall their faces. Just concepts at this point. But more than anything, he wanted to see them again. 

Had the kick done something before? 

A clench tightened around him, bringing up the acid level higher, briefly submerging his head under the caustic fluids. He choked and struggled weakly for breath just as the walls loosened up again just enough to give him a chance to take shallow gasps for air. He tried to focus, lifting up his good leg briefly to jab into the opposite wall again. It took every fiber of strength for the action. He kicked a few times. The walls tightened again and he was submerged. His heart pounded. He could hear the giant’s heart thump more slowly. The distant gurgling sounds of the stomach around him. His lungs burned for air. He kicked out his leg again, trying anywhere for that pressure point. His foot slipped, then dug into the opposite wall. It just barely managed to hit the right place. The walls loosened up again and Warren coughed weakly, gasping for air. The whole stomach seemed to grow limp again. His body followed suit. He didn’t have the strength to keep this up. Even if he was alive for now, he was prolonging the inevitable. He wasn’t going to make it out of here alive.

He was too tired to cry, but there was a pang of emotion in his chest nonetheless. His body grey limp again. His ears began to sink beneath the stinging fluids. His mind fell to dormancy again. 

***

Olivia had been sound asleep through the whole night, unknowing of her phone buzz with Warren’s text. Her face was planted on the alchemy table and her glasses were falling off of her nose. In the late morning, she rose again to get some coffee and sat down with her entire carafe of coffee with her alchemy equipment, ready to put this frustratingly difficult concoction in the past. She worked for a while at her project before she saw her phone buzz. It was another hunter wanting some more potions for lycanthropy. She had been getting too many requests from that same hunter, it was beginning to get rather tiring. Wait a moment… There was another message from Warren. 

Her tired eyes scanned it with her bulbous spectacles before sighing tiredly and picked up her pastel pink bag of alchemy equipment and got in her car to drive away.

***

The white dump truck hummed down the winding road into the forest. Olivia was dead tired and really didn’t want to be doing this. She would much rather finish that lycanthrope-enthusiast’s order, or sleep instead. The road was not a popular route, one of the back roads. It didn’t look like anyone was within miles of the stretch of asphalt. Though something laid ahead in the road. A smashed silver car was sprawled out over the asphalt in shredded bits of smashed metal. Her brow raised slightly and she parked her truck on the shoulder of the road, giving the wreckage a good once-over before she sighed and pressed through the treeline. 

She took out a small vial of blue liquid from her alchemy bag and opened up the bottle, placing a small drop on her finger and dabbed it beneath her nose. She sniffed in the odd scent of the concoction and the effect was instant. A faint blue mist seemed to appear in the forest. A scent trail that led further ahead. Wordlessly, she followed it. 

There was a dip in the forest path that led into a steep ravine which was difficult to travel into, though she managed. At the bottom of the ravine in a dip in the rock, the scent trail led to an end. 

A white-haired giant laid asleep on her side. There was a slight bulge in her middle. Her clawed hand rested over it. It didn’t take much imagination to deduct what had happened. The alchemist sighed, taking a small yellow orb of ice out of her bag and put her teeth together, making a high-pitched whistle barely audible to human ears. The response was instant. The giant’s eyes opened, though she remained on the ground. She tiredly turned to her side, scowling as she spotted the alchemist. 

“I take it you’ve eaten William, then,” Olivia’s tired voice drawled.

Rhyka’s eyes narrowed and she sat up, glaring at the ice that the alchemist wielded, knowing exactly what it was meant for. 

“He is dead. Your point?” Her voice was groggy, almost coming out in a slur. 

Olivia sighed. “Well I guess I have no restraint from using this, then.” She raised the ice and approached the giant with an unphased expression.

The giant held up a hand hastily. “Stop… It… I will release the human if you throw that into the woods. I lied. He might be alive. I can’t know for certain at this point, though it’s the only chance you have.”

Olivia shrugged and tossed the ice aside indifferently. “Alright. Let him go.”

Rhyka looked like she hadn’t expected this, but groaned. Her eyes were exhausted. She looked like she had been through hell with some sort of terrible indigestion. She pressed a hand to her stomach. Heaving sounds came, then the bulge in her middle reformed in her throat, slowly traveling upwards. She lowered her head and gagged. The form of the bedraggled, slimy hunter spilled out onto the ground in a pool of reeking fluids. 

Olivia barely seemed phased at all by Warren’s appearance. He looked like he had been thrown in a meat grinder. His left leg was crushed to pulp beneath the knee. He was covered in acids and his own blood. Past the dripping slime, patchy red burns littered his skin. 

The alchemist didn’t waste a moment before reaching into her bag again and threw another yellow orb of ice at the giant, hitting her clean in the face. Rhyka let out an infuriated shout as the enchanted ice seemed to melt into her skin. There were cracking and shifting sounds and she began to decrease in height. The giant roared, lunging forward to slash her claws at Olivia, only to shrink further and bat harmlessly with declawed otherwise human fingertips. She collapsed onto the ground, hissing in pain. She eventually shrank down to a complete human size, though she was still a good foot taller than the short alchemist. 

Olivia pursed her lips, ignoring the giant as she stepped toward Warren. He wasn’t moving. Neither was the giant. Whatever vigor she had before was short-lived. She seemed too wiped out to fight. 

“Wilhelm, listen to me,” She sat down on the earthy floor, taking his slimy hand. His hand remained limp in hers. She shot a look at the now shrunken giant. “You killed him.” She spoke levelly. She sighed and withdrew a black orb from her bag and pressed it into his hand. “Wake up,” She muttered.

The black orb melted into his hand, seeming to grow warm before disappearing. For a moment, there was no response, before she glanced over at him to see Warren’s chest slowly rose and fall. He was breathing. Weakly, but steadily.

***

Two were dragged into the truck by the tired alchemist. Rhyka’s hands were tied together, and Warren was seated next to her, unconscious, and wetting the seating with the gross slime that dripped from him. 

They drove back to the alchemist shop in silence. Rhyka still seemed ill from whatever had happened, not in much of a talking mood. 

Once they arrived back at the shop, Olivia put out a blanket on the floor for Warren and tied up the camouflaged Rhyka in a chair. Olivia did her best to clean Warren’s wounds and treat the burns, but for his broken leg, not much could be done.

***

Warren groggily returned to consciousness. A day had passed. He was lying on his back, staring up at the blank ceiling of Olivia’s basement. The light was dull, which was a good thing, to not be overwhelmed by too much light with his senses returning. He was in pain, though the worst thing of all was his leg. He could feel a crushing, burning sensation coming from it, though part of it was foggy and dampened. He must have been given medications while he was asleep to numb the pain.

What just happened. 

The last thing he remembered was… He grunted as he rolled to his side and his blood froze. Rhyka was sitting tied up in a chair before him. His heart picked up rapidly. 

“Look who awakened,” she smiled coldly. 

“You… How... what..?” Warren mumbled. How was he here? How was he even alive?

footsteps sounded from the floor above. Olivia appeared on the staircase, looking over Warren tiredly. “Ah, Winston. Good to see you are alive.” She spoke in an expressionless drawl. “I suppose the pressure point techniques work after all.”

Warren hugged his arms, leaning back on the hard blanket. He just tried to level his breaths instead of thinking too much into it. He might have been in a state of shock. 

“And my apologies about your leg. It seems not all of you was intact enough to be saved.”

Warren blinked, then glanced down at his legs. His breath caught in his throat and he felt like he had been punched in the gut. “Ho-holy shit.”

His left leg was gone. Amputated beneath the knee. He stared for a moment in shock. Olivia sat down next to him on the floor, taking a swig of her coffee from the glass carafe. “Yeah, you’ll get used to it. Just take it easy for now.”

He shuddered, biting his lip. “I… No… no… this can’t… I quit the U. L.. I-- I was supposed to be safe. W-why… Isn’t fair.”

Olivia sighed, glancing toward Rhyka. “The giant who ate you seemed to have a grudge from when you witnessed their Banding ritual. Apparently it’s no thing that any human should live to see. She had been hunting you down ever since.”

“B--but it’s not my fault! The giants brought me there! I-- I didn’t want anything to do with that!” 

Rhyka rolled her eyes, staring at Warren in a deadpanned sort of way. “Ah, excuses. None of that will change anything, you are aware?”

Warren covered his face, shaking. “You… you cruel person… you wanted to kill me. I didn’t want to get involved with the giants ever again and-- and y-you went and…”

The alchemist’s hand tapped his shoulder and she let out a tired groan. “Rachel is right. None of the things that happened will change. However,” She rose to her feet, walking over to her alchemist desk and withdrew a shimmering grey knife. She turned to look at Warren. “I do not kill monsters unless I have to. If you wish to kill Roxanne, then that is up to you.”

Warren tried to stand, leaning against the wall and lifted the stump of his leg above the ground. He stumbled over toward Rhyka, using the wall as support. “Give me the knife.”

Rhyka’s eyes narrowed. Olivia sighed and went over to Warren, placing the knife in his hands. He gripped the blade, trying to keep a straight face through the pain in his leg and glared at Rhyka, holding it to her neck. 

“How does it feel having the tables turned, huh Rhyka?” Warren grit his teeth. “You… You don’t care about humans. What did you say we were? W-weak? Inferior? ‘Lesser beings?’”

Her cold glare remained unwavering, locking eyes with Warren’s. She remained silent.

“Look at me now. You tried to kill me but failed.” The knife pressed more firmly against her throat, threatening to draw blood. “You-- you have no idea w-what you put me through. No one. No one should ever have to go through that. Killing you will avenge god-knows-how-many people you’ve murdered like that. I don’t wish death on many people but… You…”

His jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed. His grip tightened over the knife until his knuckles were white. He didn’t act for a solid few seconds. Rhyka held her breath. 

The knife dropped to his side and clattered to the floor. 

Rhyka let out a cold chuckle. “Coward,”

“I’m not like you, Rhyka.” Warren backed to the wall again, sliding down to be seated. He put a hand on his injured leg, hissing through his teeth and looked to the side, trying not to focus on the pain. He was defeated, even if he had survived. He had just lost his leg, though it felt like he had lost so much more.

------------------------------

Rest of the series can be found here.

[barnesbabee]

Telephone || K.H

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

⚠ violence, usage of guns, spanking ⚠

after a long time, here it is, my comeback.

ɪᴄᴏɴ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ

ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ x ʟᴀᴅʏ ɢᴀɢᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ || ᴘ1

ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴛᴇʟᴇᴘʜᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴠ

  “You have the right to remain silent...”

   Hongjoong watched as the police officer held you down and cuffed your hands behind your back. The tears prickled his eyes, and his whimpers and sobs could be heard over the loud sirens.

   “...anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

    You turned your head to face your precious lover. He was so beautiful, so pure, so innocent… To you, he was just like a kid, when in reality he was only a year younger than you. 

   “...you have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you…”

   When you locked eyes with him he immediately stopped crying, too lost in your serene complexion. How could you be so calm?... You observed how they shined, how his lower lip trembled, and how his face had a reddish tint to it.

   “It’s gonna be fine baby.” You mouthed to him.

   He sniffled, the cute pout still present on his lips, and nodded at your statement, fully believing in your words. 

   When you two met, you immediately felt as if you needed to protect him, because he was just too nice for this world. You wanted to shield him from everything bad, however, you couldn’t shield him from you.

   You did try to keep your distance, but the way he walked towards you and chanted your name as he waved with his palm high up in the air… It was hypnotizing. His unbelievable aura and energy dragged you toward him even against your will. He was everything you didn’t have, and everything you needed.

   He kept coming back, and when you finally told him about your job, in hopes he’d run away, he simply told you ‘Everyone has a bad side... Yours just happens to be a little... badder.’, and then yoou knew you’d fallen in love.

   The police officer’s words went in one ear and out the other as she shoved you in the back of the white and blue car. You didn’t resist arrest, you had no reason to. You didn’t try to plead ‘not guilty’, even when Hongjoong begged you to. You accepted everything and went with it as if it was a routine, and it was making Hongjoong delirious.

   “Why didn’t you try to fight this!?” Hongjoong yelled, with glossy eyes, punching clear, thick plastic that separated you. 

   His hand shakily held the phone, and he had tears streaming down his face once more. He didn’t understand you were always so calm, as if the world was playing by your rules.

   “Hongjoong, baby, please sit down…” You asked, in the calmest voice possible.

   He obliged, just like he always did, and you smiled softly. You placed your palm against the window that separated you, and Hongjoong mimicked your actions, as if you were holding hands.

   “Everything’s going to be fine Hongjoongie, okay? Everything will be…”

   Hongjoong’s ears perked up and your voice trailed off in the distance. He noticed a tapping sound resonating in the air As you spoke, your finger tapped the plastic between you.

   Morse code.

   Your voice distracted the guards and the people around you, so that they wouldn’t hear the tapping, while Hongjoong read your message.

  I. Will. Get. Out. Two. Days. Midnight. Be. Outside. With. Car.

  “You’re so smart Y/N, God this is why I love you so much I never ever want to leave you, you’re my everything…” He whispered, in a desperate, exasperated voice.

   You chuckled and your face softened at the way his terrified eyes scanned your expression. 

   “I never want you to leave me Joongie.”

   Hongjoong’s car pulled up in the tree-surrounded area. He had arrived slowly, with headlights off so he wouldn’t be noticed by anybody. 

   The man’s legs were shaking, and his finger impatiently tapped on the black steering wheel of the SUV. He trusted you blindly, whatever you said he believed, and so when you told him you’d somehow get out he fully believed you, even though he had no idea how it was possible to escape a high-security penitentiary. 

    One minute passed from midnight… Two minutes passed from midnight… 

   Hongjoong grew more and more anxious as each second passed by. He kept turning his body in all different ways and squinting his eyes, desperately trying to find your figure running through the night.

   His breathing got quicker and small beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. What if something had gone wrong!? What if they had caught you and you were now in solitary confinement!? What if he couldn’t see you anymore!? What if-

   Hongjoong’s thoughts were interrupted by someone violently opening the door and shoving themselves into the shotgun seat.

   His blurry vision took a second to recognize the woman with disheveled hair beside him, but there was no doubt that it was his Y/N. Without a second thought, he grabbed your cheeks and pulled you into a long, desperate kiss. 

   When he pulled away you smiled at his adorableness, at how he prioritized his love for you over the short amount of time you’d have to get the fuck out.

    “Floor it, baby, we need to get away before-”

   Your speech was cut off by blinding lights shining behind you, lighting up the building as well as the roads surrounding it. A loud, maddening sirene sounded in the air and the both of you widened your eyes.  

   His foot was heavy on the accelerator. The SUV’s wheels screeched against the floor as he backed up and drove down the road that lead them to freedom. In the distance, two blue and red flashing lights could be seen. The sirens kept coming closer and closer, and you cursed the car’s inability to go faster.

   “Hongjoong!” You yelled.

   He looked at you, visibly worried and distressed, like he did usually in these situations.

   “It doesn’t go faster YN!” 

   “Fuck!” You cursed and punched the tablier.

   As you glanced back to see how far the cars were, you noticed a duffle bag sitting on the back seat.

   “Is that the rest of what was to be shipped?” 

   Hongjoong nodded without glancing back, knowing what you were talking about. You rolled down your window and turned around to unzip the black bag. 

   “Slow down!” You yelled at Hongjoong, so you could be heard over the sirens and car sounds.

   Your boyfriend looked at you with big eyes, scared and dumbfounded.

   “You heard me! Slow the car down!”

   Hongjoong did as you said and the police cars were right behind you in no time. In one movement, you grabbed the gun that was on top, an AK-47, and peaked your torso outside the window.

   Your boyfriend watched as you fired at the car. It wasn’t with much precision, and even though you aimed at the wheels you ended up hitting the hood and the headlights before bursting the rubber material.

   The car turned and hit a sturdy tree, causing it to immediately breakdown. The vehicle coming right behind that one car hit against it, as it was going too fast for it to be able to stop in time. 

   Two down.

   Two more popped up from behind, and you aimlessly shot at them, hoping you’d hit something that’d make them stop. They kept swerving and avoiding most of your bullets, trying to prevent you from hitting the wheels. 

   You were getting annoyed. They were getting closer. Anxiety was building up.

   Hongjoong grit his teeth and gripped the wheel tighter. He was not going to lose you once more. He needed you in his life.

   “Shoot them.” 

   You looked at your boyfriend. He’d surprised you many times, but only with innocent, hopeful comments. It was your turn to be dumbfounded and confused.

   Hongjoong stole a glance at you.

   “Shoot them! They want to take you away for me! I’m not gonna let that happen!” He yelled, fueled by rage and despair.

   You chuckled.

   “As you wish…”

   You aimed, as best as you could in a moving car. It took you a second, you had to focus and take a deep breath, you had to stop your shaky hands, but when you finger pressed the trigger, you felt powerful. The bullet pierced right through the driver’s forehead, spewing blood all over his face. The terrified expression of his partner brought a sense of pride to you. 

   You aimed at the other male, whose eyes were widened in fear. Realizing you were aiming at him, the man gripped the steering wheel and turned it completely to avoid the bullet, causing it to crash.

   You repeated the process in the remaining car, except you didn’t feel like aiming, you were too impatient, so you just went on a rampage. You held the gun and yelled as you fired all over the windshield. Surely it’d hit them. When the bullets were up, you tossed the gun and plopped back inside, watching as the car behind you swerved left and right, now without a driver, before crashing as well.

    When you were settled back in your seat Hongjoong placed a hand on your thigh and looked at you, lovingly. There were a couple of seconds of silence, with the two of you just staring into each other’s eyes, before you burst out laughing.

    You pulled up in a motel, one as far as your gasoline could get you, and got a room. You two did your best not to look suspicious, but Hongjoong was always a little jittery.

    You plopped on the bed, as Hongjoong locked the door and closed the curtains. Your boyfriend climbed on top of you, pampering your face and neck with sloppy kisses. You giggled and grabbed each of his arms.

    “I missed you so fucking much baby…”

   You looked into his eyes and connected your lips in a long, rough kiss. Your lips were chapped and his were soft, but somehow they fit perfectly well, just like your personalities.

   When you pulled away he stroked your hair.

   “How did you manage to get out?” 

   You chuckled.

   “It was all planned.”

   Hongjoong tilted his head and pouted, visibly confused at what you just said, and you wondered how a man that had just told you to kill someone could be so utterly cute. 

   “He paid me a little extra… The people He hired for his gun trafficking jobs kept getting arrested or found, and He suspected someone was ratting His workers to the cops. To confirm His suspicions He told me to go along and traffick some of His guns for some bonus cash, and if I was arrested He guaranteed me He’d have someone on the inside to bust me out. Once I was out I was on my own though, that’s why I needed you.” You explained, earning a hum from your boyfriend.

    “Who even is ‘He’?”

   You shrugged, you knew as much as him. 

   “No one knows… Just some super-rich guy that has people for everything. We call him ‘He’, ‘cause don’t even know his name. We’ve tried to give him a name before but He wasn’t too happy...”

   Hongjoong laid his head on your chest, feeling the calm way your chest heaved.

   “You know, the way you behaved earlier… That was really hot Joongie.”

   Hongjoong looked up at you.

   “You think so?”

   You bit your lip and nodded. 

   Hongjoong smirked and hovered above you with a smirk.

   “Well,” He lowered his head down to place a soft kiss on your neck “what about we make it hotter and celebrate our reunion?” 

   Both of your hands found their way onto his hair, tugging on it slightly as the kisses on your neck became sloppier and harsher.

   “Sounds good baby.”

   His teeth bit down on a particular spot, causing you to whimper out his name. Your fingers curled around his hair and tugged on it harsher at every bite. 

    Hongjoong’s fingers trailed down your body, not missing a single curve. He slipped his hand inside your large pants along with your underwear and cupped your crotch. He ran his thumb along your pussy, enjoying the way your body started writhing under his. 

   “F-fuck Hongjoong, please… It’s been so long I’m gonna cum form that.”

   Hongjoong pulled away from your neck and kissed your lips passionately. The way he kissed you was always loving, no matter what situation you encountered yourselves in.

   Your hand found its way onto his crotch, and you grabbed his hardened member, applying some pressure on it.

   Hongjoong moaned into the kiss and pulled away.

   “Fuck, you’re so needy…”

  He hurriedly removed your clothes, along with his, leaving your bottoms fully exposed. 

  Your boyfriend settled between your legs, allowing his cock to slap against your stomach. He ran his tip along your folds teasingly for a second. You gripped the sheets and rolled your hips up, desperate for him to enter you.

   He chuckled at your eagerness and grabbed your hips, finally thrusting into you. The room was immediately filled with loud groans from both as he fully bottomed inside of you. 

   His fingernails dug into the skin of your hips from the way he gripped onto you and fucked into you. 

     Hongjoong was fucking you to compensate the weeks you’d been away from each other, and you were afraid that you’d end up having to sleep in a broken bed.

     “H-Hongjoong you’re s-so good fuck-” You moaned loudly.

    Hongjoong always felt proud to see you like that, broken and begging for him. He focused on getting you off, he wanted your pleasure.

    His hands moved down to your thighs and squeezed them harshly, followed by a slap that would surely leave a mark.

    You whimpered as you looked down at him, loving the way his golden skin shined under the cheap motel lighting. 

    “Baby I’m g-gonna cum.” Hongjoong told you.

   “Cum inside m-me, please-” 

   Your pretty little beg was all it took for him to fill you up. He groaned and hissed at the feeling of your tight walls getting all of his cum.

   But he wasn’t done. 

   He pulled out of you and thurst three of his fingers into you, fucking his cum deeper into your hole.

   “Such a good baby, always taking my cum so well…”

   Your back arched, and you felt something build up in your stomach.

   When Hongjoong began sucking on your clit, that was it for you. Your walls tightened around his fingers and your toes curled up as you came with a cry for his name.

   He crawled onto the bed, beside you. The adrenaline and the rush of it all had gotten you so tired you couldn’t find the energy to get dressed. 

   You rolled on top of him, and his arms encircled your waist as you buried your head on the crook of his neck.

   He kissed to top of your head, and you both fell asleep peacefully to the sound of the crickets outside. 

   A loud bang woke the two of you about seven hours later.

   “Come out with your hands in the air!” A sturdy, raspy voice demanded from outside.

   You could see the shapes of blue and black uniforms standing on the outside.

   You and Hongjoong looked over at the gun-filled duffle bag resting on the small desk on the other side of the room, which you hadn’t been stupid enough to leave in the car, and then exchanged a knowing look.

    “Let’s do it?”

    “Let’s take ‘em all out baby.”

[ajokeformur-ray]

Shaken to the core // J x Lilith // angst, fluff, comfort.

Summary: During the scene in which J is interrogated by Batman (the True Villain of Gotham), you protect J and end up getting punched by the Masked Coward. J goes feral but when you’re safe at home and patched up, J’s own emotional wounds come to the forefront and your bond deepens; if such a thing is even possible.

Warnings: I don’t like Batman and it shows lmao (so maybe don’t read if you like him), reader gets punched, J is scary angry, descriptions of fights and physical injury, swearing, crying, intense discussions, lots of comfort.

A personalised fic for @jokershyena​. I love you, doll, and I can’t thank you enough for letting me fully write this out for you skskskkkskk I adore our talks. I hope you like this! ^^

Word count: 3, 581 (Okay, I know you said under 1k buuuut~ a) have you met me? and b) when do I ever do what I’m told?)

Everything happened so fast.

One minute J was sat in the cold and unforgiving metal chair, his hands folded neatly in his lap in a mockery of the ‘rules’ the Commissioner had left him with, and the next were his feet suspended several inches above the floor, steel toecaps scraping across the floor, his painted face so close to Bats’ own masked one. J had been sat there teasing the Masked Coward but once again had Bats’ power and the situation at hand gone to his head. He was acting more like a villain than J was as without a word did Bats swing J around and slam him down far too harshly onto the metal table. It made J cackle and woop through his amusement as he curled his fingers up beneath his chin in a position of mock defense. “Ya’ gotta break your code,” J dropped his voice to a gravelly octave to mock Bats’ own ridiculous voice. “You know it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“I’m not gonna break my code,” You rolled your eyes at Bats’ voice - seriously, how was this dude able to talk like that for so long? Did he use something to alter his voice? - but your sarcasm quickly turned to horror when Bats lifted J up, still by his collar, and slammed him down once more against the table. How could this man call himself a hero when he was so violent with J, a man who hadn’t actually done anything in this particular case and had just been minding his own business? And why the hell had someone asked for you to be in the room, too? Ugh, you hated Batman. If anyone was the villain of Gotham, it was him.

While Bats was still holding J down by his collar, his other arm, clad in hard leather, came up, up, high above his head, his fist clenched - 

“No!” Your heart seized in your chest as panic and a fierce need to defend what is yours took you over and you flung your body forward, moving so that your back was pressed to J’s chest, your hair spilling over his abdomen and chest like a dark halo. You were leaning over him, protecting him, and you heard J growl, felt the vibration against your back as it rumbled through his chest and pushed out of his throat, the sound guttural and foreboding, as Bats’ fist connected squarely with your shoulder, and made you cry out. You slid off the table and dropped to the floor and the room. went. silent.

Pain exploded in your shoulder. Fuck, it hurt. The hard leather, Bats’ brute strength, the harsh way that Bats had let you drop, presumably shocked by the fact that he had just broken his code completely accidentally. Your entire arm was numb, pain and fear pulsating through you. You were so scared for J, you were terrified that something bad was going to happen to him. You had always been so protective of him, immensely so, and right now was no exception. You knew, even through the haze of pain, that right now J was both impressed that you had managed to get Bats to break his insanely stupid and hypocritical code but also really angry. 

Seconds ticked past, marked in silence. You weren’t sure anyone was even breathing as you each took the time to process what had just happened. Your thoughts all circled and though the words changed, the sentiment was the same every time as the reality seeped into your foggy mind. You would be lucky if you only had bruising from this. 

You had just been punched by Bats.

Bats had just broken his stupid fucking hypocritical code.

You had been protecting your J.

One thought, more important than the rest, stuck in the very forefront of your mind. So strong was it, so raw was its intensity, that it reverberated around and around inside your head, like a hurricane of beautiful devastation, once it registered in your mind. It was louder than all the other thoughts:

You had been protecting your J.

You felt proud of yourself for doing so. You were a woman of your word. You had told J once that you would be a dragon if he ever got hurt - you would defend him with your life. And right now - you had just proven yourself to be true. You were proud of yourself, immensely so, for looking after your clown. He was yours and no one hurt your J. No one.

“You really shouldn’t have done that.” J’s voice was lower than you had ever heard it before. You had known J for twelve years; you knew his every tone, his every expression, his every demeanour... but you had never heard that pitch from him before. Your head shot up as you took him all in. The ticking jaw muscle, the clenched gloved fists, the leather creaking with every flex of his fingers, his tongue prodding against the scarring on his inner cheek, first one side and then the other before the thick muscle left the warm cavern of his mouth to wet his full lips, his chin dipped, his head tilted to the side... your blood ran cold. “No one hurts my hyena.”

J was pissed, so much so that he was almost shaking with sheer unadulterated rage. In a movement so fast that your naked eyes struggled to see what was happening, and your mind, oh, it was spinning, J grabbed Bats’ head with both of his hands, raised his knee and mercilessly brought Bats’ head down. J acted with no hesitation and with brute force in a moment which reminded you of just how dangerous your chaotic clown could truly be. There was a sickening noise and Bats dropped to the concrete floor like a sack of potatoes. It was loud, undignified and he was undoubtedly out cold, but you didn’t much care. Good riddance. It was nice to see Bats get a taste of his own medicine. You had no idea where the Commissioner was or where any of the stationed police officers were but you suspected that everyone had cleared out of the vicinity once Batman had begun his portion of the ‘interrogation’ - or, as you and every other morally flexible person saw it, unwarranted aggression akin to torture. You had intervened long before Bats had truly started on J, but he never should have even been allowed to do so. He wasn’t a man of the law and as such, he had no jurisdiction here and he definitely had no right to be throwing anyone around like that. Who the fuck did he think he was??

J climbed gracelessly off the table and stepped over Bats’ body like he was nothing more than a pile of shit in the middle of the road (if the shoe fits...) and got down on his knees beside you, gently, gently, pulling you into his lap. His body was trembling, from worry or from adrenaline you knew not. “You shouldn’t have done that, doll.”

Tears came to your eyes fast now that it was all over and you sniffled. Oh, but you were in so much pain, but J was okay. Nothing more than a few scrapes or bruises. J’s okay. J’s safe, J’s okay he’s okay he’s okay... “I would never let you get hurt, J.”

“I know,” J sounded so genuine, his voice quiet and his tone soft as gloved fingers swiped your tears away. Not many fell - both of you knew that this was neither the time nor the place, no matter how much it hurt. There were no masks here, no pretenses... just you and J, as it had always been. “You’re my guard hyena, aren’t’cha?” There was untapped urgency in his words, a need to make sure that you were okay and you felt that same sense echoed within your own self, so desperate were you to ensure that your J was okay.

Your answering nod sent sharp stabbing pains shooting through your shoulder and you couldn’t have stopped the wince if you had tried. J’s gaze sharpened as he looked you over. His intense chocolate eyes were looking at you critically, his stare roaming over your body as he catalogued your body language. He was being so tender, his arms around you like the safest, warmest cage, like a heater was your clown.

Deft fingers pulled your collar aside, making you wince, and J leaned into your body, peeking into your shirt as he checked out the damage. There were no cameras in this interrogation room but even so did J not wish to expose you, to make you uncomfortable in any way. He made a soft whistling noise. Had you been anyone else, he would have been impressed with the colouring. As it was... he was enraged and trying so, so hard to keep himself from beating Batman shitless. “It’s a pretty purple ya’ gonna be wearing when this settles, Lil.” Despite his gentle teasing, J was being completely serious. It was almost scary. Almost. But you knew your J, you knew him, and you knew that he would always take care of you. Right now was no exception. “Come on, let’s get’cha home.”

There was a shakiness to J’s voice which both of you could hear but J’s ticking jaw muscles kept you from voicing your concerns as he gathered you up in his arms and carried you out of the building. Nothing had gone the way he wanted it to,  but you had always been and would always be his number one concern. Fuck the world - his hyena needed him and truthfully, he needed you, too.

Time ceased to have all meaning as J did not let you go. You remained in his arms for the few blocks that he had to walk, your face tucked into the warm crook of his neck. You littered the skin available to you with kisses, licks, nibbles, gentle bites... J had so much pent up anger and energy within him that he was almost vibrating, but he was still so gentle with you as he got you both home, holding you in such a way that you were barely jostled by his movements. Oh, but he was so strong, emotionally, physically... your clown was fierceless, unstoppable, especially in the face of one of his worst fears.

Losing you.

Without you, J would truly have nothing to lose, nothing that he could be threatened with. He got you both home safely and he carried you through to the sofa in the living room.

“J... J, you can put me down. I can walk.”

He only shushed you, somewhat roughly, and set you down on the sofa. Immediately was he gone to get the dark green first aid kit which you kept in the bathroom, and he was back just as quickly. A pocket knife slid out of his sleeve and he fingered it into position expertly, the blade balanced between two fingers as he sliced your shirt off straight up the middle and peeled it off your body as gently as he could. You made no protests. J would replace it, you knew he would, and the circumstances were such that you couldn’t bring yourself to stop J. His face was set, his eyes were somewhat misty, and his breaths were deliberately slow, deep. J was keeping calm as best as he could, and you knew that once your injury had been examined and taken care of, you would have to deal with J’s own wounds.

You almost wanted to tell him to not bother with your injury, to let you take care of him, but that would only get you scolded, so you sat tight and let J take care of you. In moments like this did the two of you not need words, so well did you know each other and so deep was your bond. Twelve years... twelve fucking years and never before had you made good on your promise to take a hit for him if you had to. J had always made sure that such a promise wasn’t even necessary but today, today there had been an opening to prove yourself, to use your body to protect J’s own, and you knew that he was more thankful for it, for you, than he knew how to say.

So he would show you, instead.

And J did... careful touches, slightly rough kisses to your forehead, to your cheeks when you hissed in air through your teeth or otherwise winced, two pairs of chocolate eyes met every time you did so, and J would either shush you or his full lips would turn downwards in genuine sympathy. You were hurt because of him. His touches were so tender as he ran fingers over the deep purple bruise which bloomed across your collarbones, the slope of your shoulder, veiny lines spreaded out like tendrils around the outside of the bruising like a border of red and purple vines... there was some blood where the skin had completely split and J mopped it up, bandaged the areas and kissed over the protective layer he had placed against your skin as if his love could seep through the barrier and heal you from the outside in; indeed, many of your emotional wounds had already been healed, or, at the very least, soothed, by his presence in your life. You were pretty messed up just from one punch, but you were infinitely grateful that J hadn’t had to take the hit. You would do, be and say anything for him if it meant keeping him safe, sane, honest.

The more J put you back together, the more unravelled he became. 

When at last you were bandaged and J had helped you to get into your pyjamas ready for sleep - you had been awake with J this entire time and neither of you had slept for more than a few hours at a time over the last few days and you were both exhausted on top of everything else - J put the first aid box back into the bathroom. He took his sweet time, his head bowed, his broad shoulders stiff. He was still on the defence. J was too calm, too quiet and you knew, you knew your J. He was barely holding it together.

As he came back into the living room, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers, his beautiful face bare and his footsteps uneven, his fists clenched, his head bowed and his slightly greasy locks framing his face, hiding himself from you, J sighed. “Best you, ah - get some rest, doll. Bed’s ready for ya’.”

“Aren’t you... aren’t you joining me, J?”

J shook his head, angling his face away from you some more as he took another step towards you. “No, no, I, ah - got some calls to make.”

Like hell he did. Not tonight. “Then I’m not sleeping.” Fire crept into your voice and you stood. Your shoulder didn’t hurt too badly. It wasn’t as bad as the pain you had felt that time you had been shot in the leg, and you knew you’d be okay. “Not without you, J, not after today.”

“Lilith - “ There was a warning in J’s tone and you went immediately to his side. You knew your clown, you knew that he had been on the edge of something ever since you had taken the hit for him, and you saw the opening that you had been waiting for, perhaps subconsciously, this entire time.

You took his hand, locked your fingers with his and you walked the both of you to the bedroom. You could almost hear J’s torment as you got into bed, easing yourself down with a wince. Lying down, it wasn’t so bad. You would be just fine within a few weeks. You had taken worse before. 

“J, don’t... don’t hide from me. Come here, sweet angel.” You kept your tone soft, warm, comforting and you used your grip on his hand to pull J towards you. He didn’t protest, he didn’t fight you, he didn’t argue or try to say that he had work to do. No, J went with you, and as he eased himself down atop you with barely any hesitation - you were always so sure of yourself and what you wanted with him and for him - he sunk into your body.

J’s strong forearms framed either side of your head, your hair once more like a dark halo; it was reminiscent of what had happened today, though this time was J protecting you, and his shaking only intensified until his entire body was shaking. J dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his slightly greasy locks tickling at the underside of your chin, your nose, and you felt the falling of one, maybe two tears.

J was shaken to his very core and you needed (and wanted) to take care of him, now.

Ignoring the screaming in your shoulder, you wrapped both of your arms around J’s broad shoulders, wrapped your legs around his waist and crossed your ankles to solidly anchor him to you. “Shh, Jack, it’s okay - it’s okay, my darling, I’m here.” J didn’t even react to the mention of his real name, he just burrowed down further into you as if he was trying to climb inside you, to hide himself from the world by literally becoming one with you so that never again could the two of you be torn asunder. You ducked your head somewhat awkwardly so that you could rain kisses down upon the top of J’s head, your lips lingering against his skin, your nose resting in his strands, which were in desperate need of a dye job as well as a wash. Normally, you would have made him shower before coming to bed, but not tonight.

Tonight, all the rules were off the table. There was only room for the two of you. The raw essence of your relationship had been exposed to reality this night and neither of you quite knew what to do about it. All you could do was just to... simply be together, to express the impossibly deep bond which the two of you shared with one another. You continued to kiss J over and over and at some point he lifted his face up so that you could reach him there, too, his bare scars receiving the most love. You adored his scars and you treasured the times he let you interact with them. 

J lifted himself up so that his nose was inches from yours. Your lips landed on his forehead next and J’s broken rasp of a voice broke the quiet stillness of the room, “He dared to touch my hyena. No one touches you, Lilith. You’re mine and… there’s no me without you. Without you, I have nothing… nothing.” As if he was distressed by words alone did he shut his eyes tightly, and you cooed as you cupped his face in your hands, your fingers stroking along his cheeks.

“No one hurts my J. Mine. I love you.” You felt like you were going to cry, so deeply and so intensely were the waves of love and affection crashing over your shores at this moment.

The answering sentimental declaration came in the form of J’s full lips crashing against your own, his lips warm but heavy against your own, his tongue hot as he commanded your full attention. J’s kiss was so thorough, his hot hands cupping your face - like a heater was he - the feeling of his heart pounding against your own... oh, but this was everything you could ever want and need. J left no room for arguments as he took from you what he needed, though in equal measures did he give you what you needed. You only needed each other, to reaffirm that the both of you were alive and safe and whole and loved, always loved, and that would always be enough to shine a light on any residual fears and anxieties lurking in the dark about each other’s continued safety.

“Mine,” J growled against your lips as he peppered your face with kisses so ferocious that they were almost bruising, “Mine, mine, mine.”

“Yes, J,” You smiled through tears you refused to let fall. Too many had been shed this night. “I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

J made a noise low in the back of his throat by way of agreement, by way of making and keeping a promise which never needed to be voiced because you both just knew as he claimed your lips with his again once more, but it was a slower, more tender expression now, more reverent and full of worship than it was of desperation, of urgency. “The hyena and her clown... the clown and his hyena. I like the sound of that, doll, don’t you?”

The smile you gave J by way of a reply was brighter than any firework, bigger than any explosion, and more commanding of J’s heart than anything else in the world.

You were his entire world, and so long as he had you and you had him, why, you both had everything.

[weasleydream]

A story of love, pain and shitty parents - part 2

Here is the second part! This one is both longer and darker than the first, and all the end should have been a third part but I hadn’t enough ideas so... 

Tell me if you liked, don’t hesitate to like, reblog and/or give me feedbacks and enjoy!

TW: mention of torture, violence

Masterlist 

Part 1

The summer holidays had just begun - the school year had ended two weeks ago - yet the Burrow was as animated as the first of September. Fred, George, Ron and Ginny were currently packing. Molly was in the kitchen, cooking absentmindedly something for the diner. Her eyes were fixed outside, on the portal, as if it could open anytime. That was what she hoped. The previous week, Percy and Arthur had had a bad argument, a true fight and they both had said terrible things. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was the cause. His return was terrifying, of course, because it meant a war would take place. But Percy, probably blinded by his passion for his work, had called Harry a liar, his father a freak, and had left. 

The magical clock Molly adored made a soft noise. She looked at it quickly enough to see Arthur’s hand directed at “travelling”. A few seconds later, it was on “home” and Arthur opened the door. His face was hard, his jaw still clenching, and Molly knew her husband had seen Percy. It had been the same almost every day after the fight. They didn’t say anything. Only a loud sigh escaped Arthur’s mouth. 

Their children were still upstairs, making a lot of noise. Well, Molly was pretty sure the twins were responsible, but she didn’t say anything. The several booms that could be heard weren’t loud enough to prevent her from hearing the typical sound of someone travelling by Floo Powder, though. She rushed into the living-room, followed by Arthur, with an insane hope that Percy was here. It wasn’t him, but she screamed at the sight in front of her. 

Y/N was here. Her face was covered in bruises, but the most worrying was the cut on her forehead. Blood was flowing on her face. Her right hand tightened compulsively her left wrist. Her clothes were torn, she had multiple cuts and bruises all over her body, for what Molly could see. Her eyes were full of a pure terror, and her voice was broken and trembling when she said:

“Molly, please, help me…”

A few seconds after her arrival passed, and she fell unconscious on the floor. 

The shock that had taken over Molly immediately vanished as she rushed toward the poor girl. She kneeled in front of her, making sure she was still alive, before asking her husband to carry her and lay her on the couch. Arthur did so, clearly disturbed by the state of the girl, and mumbled.

“I’m gonna go get Fred and George.”

He left, leaving his wife alone with Y/N. Weak moans escaped the latter’s mouth when Molly started to clean the blood on her face, revealing a deeper cut than she had expected. Murmuring healing spells, she caught a sight of Fred running downstairs and toward the couch. His face showed a genuine worry. He kneeled next to his mother, trying not to disturb her, and grabbed Y/N’s hand. George arrived too, standing behind the couch, both hands holding tight the back of the sofa. The twins stayed silent as Molly tried her best to ease the unconscious girl’s pain. When her face finally relaxed and she began to snore softly, Molly mouthed “In the kitchen.” and she left the living-room, followed by Fred, George and Arthur. 

They took place around the table, but no one knew what to say, the events of the last half-hour still not fully processed. 

“What the hell happened to her?”

Fred’s voice was lower than usual. He was terribly worried for Y/N and everyone could see it. George stirred next to him. The brothers exchanged a look and they knew they were thinking the same. 

“Boys, if you know something, you have to tell us.” Arthur’s voice was hard. He considered Y/N like a daughter of his own and seeing her like this was awful. 

“Her father.” said George. “It’s her father.”

Molly and Arthur frowned and George told them everything he knew, breaking the promise he and Fred had made to Y/N when she had confessed how her father was. As he went along in his story, his parents’ face dropped, Molly’s eyes filling with tears. Sometimes, she mumbled “I didn’t know…” or “How could I be so blind?” but she never interrupted her son. Arthur seemed too taken aback to say something. Fred was silent too, but not for the same reason. He couldn’t erase Y/N’s injured body from his mind. Her moans of pain were still echoing in his ears and if he hadn’t been feeling this urge to make sure she would be okay, he would already be in front of her father to make him regret all that she had endured. 

“You knew all this time and you didn’t say anything?” yelled Arthur, immediately hit in the arm by Molly. 

“She made us promise…” whispered Fred. His voice was like strangled which caused George to look at him with worried eyes. “She begged us not to tell anything. We thought… We thought that now we knew we could help her…”

“She promised she would tell us if anything happened.” added George. 

The twins were slowly understanding their mistake, and the more this realization hit them, the more the guilt crept in their heart. 

“You thought you did right,” said Molly. “It’s not your fault. She’ll be okay, don’t -”

A scream interrupted her. 

Y/N’s pov

The only sound I could hear in the house was the voices coming from the dining room. It happened more and more often that my father received visits from people from the Ministry. Some of them were known for their past alongside He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and as the day passed, I feared the reason for their presence. The rumours said he was back; Harry Potter had affirmed so after bringing back Cedric’s body and I trusted him. As my father was talking with Lucius Malfoy, I made discreetly my way to the kitchen and prepared something to eat. Since Mary had been killed, no one lived in this house except my father and me. 

I held the plate containing my sandwich in one hand as I managed to silently close the door behind me when shouts louder than the others echoed from the dining room. A violent shiver went down my spine as I remembered the last time I had eavesdropped. Nevertheless, I put the plate on the floor and approached the door. This time, I didn’t dare to open it and settled for what I heard. 

“You don’t understand what it means.” hissed my father. 

“I understand very well.” replicated Malfoy. “We both have the same problem. Gaining back his trust won’t be easy, you heard him.”

Someone began to pace, his heavy steps echoing in the room. 

“Our place in the Ministry will be helpful, that’s for sure.” said my father. “But are we sure they won’t be on their guards?”

“He thinks Fudge will be too afraid. He’ll deny everything, the guy loves power too much.”

A silence took place and I heard something that sounded like fabric being removed. 

“It hadn’t burnt in so long…” said my father. 

“You should be more careful with this.” snapped Malfoy. “I believe you killed the nurse because of that?”

“Yes, she’d been too curious.”

I needed to know why he had killed Mary. I decided to take the risk and slowly opened the door. I saw the forearm of my father, the one he used to clench since last year. He had the Dark Mark. My father was a Death Eater. 

At the very moment I thought I would go back in my room, his eyes fell on me. 

“Y/N? Y/N! It’s okay, it’s okay…”

I suddenly opened my eyes. I was sitting on a couch in the Burrow living room. Fred was kneeling in front of me and holding tightly my hands. George was sitting next to me and stroking gently my back, throwing worried glances at Molly and Arthur who were standing in front of us. My sight was blurry and I realized I was crying only when Fred delicately wiped my tears with his thumbs. 

“You have to tell us…” he whispered. 

My voice was shaky and a contained sob muffled it. 

“He’s a Death Eater. I- I saw it.”

The heaviest silence I had ever heard took place as they slowly processed what I had said. I couldn’t bring myself to look at them, an unexplained feeling of shame and guilt flooding in me. 

“Come here.”

Without me realizing, Fred had sat next to me and he pulled me against his chest. His embrace had this fantastic power to make me feel safe even in the worst situations, and this time wasn't an exception. But it only made it all so much more difficult to bear when he let go of me… 

Molly rushed in the kitchen. I was pretty sure she wanted to hide from me, either because of what she was feeling or… Maybe she was, for some reason, afraid because of me? After all, she had just learned my father was a Death Eater. He knew where the Burrow was, he probably knew the Weasleys were close to Harry, maybe she feared reprisals. And if I hadn’t been so scared and so selfish, I wouldn’t have come here. 

“Y/N, you need to tell us exactly what happened.”

I hadn’t seen Arthur was still here. He was now kneeling next to Fred, his hand resting on my shoulder. He was showing a genuine worry and, for a second, I thought about how, in six years, he had become the father I had always wanted. The one that would happily share his passion with me, that would tell me funny stories about members of the Ministry, the one that had managed to keep me a place for the Quidditch World Cup because he knew it was my passion. But just thinking of what had happened dived me in a completely panicked state.

“I- I can’t…” I murmured. 

Arthur shared a look with George and got up. He gently muffled my hair and joined Molly in the kitchen. After his father’s departure, George grabbed my hand and helped me stand up. It seemed to get Fred out of his trance and he jumped on his feet, grabbing my other hand. 

“The diner isn’t ready yet.” said George. “We’ll show you the invention we’ve just finished this morning!”

It was only when we reached their room that I understood something was going to happen. I didn’t feel like doing something as simple as talking, but fortunately for me, these two boys knew me very well. An interrogative look was enough for Fred telling me why bags were cluttering the space. 

“We won’t spend summer here this year. We’ll go to London.” 

The perspective seemed to enthuse him and he started to explain to me in detail how these strange candies worked, helped by precisions brought by George. My brain was prone to such a mental exhaustion that understanding what they were saying necessitated all my will, and the boys were so involved in the mission they had imposed themselves, namely making me forget what had happened previously, that they didn’t notice my repetitive yawns. However, no matter how hard I tried to stay awake, my eyes eventually closed. 

I was lying on the ground. My cheek was crushed on the ground, and I barely could see the empty chimney through my tears. The part of my neck previously strangled by the fabric of my shirt when my father had grabbed it was still painful, but my mind was busy with something totally different. I didn’t dare move, knowing that two powerful Death Eaters were next to me. My father was pacing faster than before, mumbling he knew what he had to do. After a few minutes, during which I was trembling on the floor, Malfoy shouted he could do it for him.

“We won’t kill her. It would arouse suspicions.” he answered. 

Relief flooded in me but disappeared quickly when someone grabbed the back of my shirt and forced me to get up. My father’s face was twisted by a rage he had contained until now. Several wrinkles distorted his expression and the burning glare in his eyes simply terrified me. 

“After Mary, I thought you would have understood not to stick your filthy nose in my business.” he rumbled. “I thought you were more intelligent than that.”

He began pacing again. He was tightening his wand and his head was down. 

“What are you doing?” hissed Malfoy. “She’s close to Dumbledore’s entourage. She can’t stay alive now that she knows who we are.”

“Or we keep her alive and bring her to the Dark Lord.” added my father. 

I caught the look between them and it hit me. They would bring me to wherever He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was hidden, and I would be tortured. I would be killed. Panic invaded me and, in a desperate attempt to save my life, I jumped on Malfoy, tackling him to the ground in the process, and ran toward the door. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as I extended an arm to push the door and for a split second, I was persuaded I would be safe. 

“Crucio!”

This time, I woke up without a scream. Without any noise, in fact. It was the middle of the night, and I was curled up in a ball in Fred’s bed. The moonlight illuminated the room and I distinguished George’s silhouette in his bed. Fred wasn’t here and I suddenly felt guilty; he was probably sleeping on the couch of the living-room. Despite the feeling of safety George’s snores somehow brought me, I got up as silently as possible, suppressing a moan as my sore muscles protested. I limped toward the door and pushed it. The hissing didn’t wake George up, it only made him groan and turn in his bed. 

Once downstairs and done thanking Merlin the twins’ room wasn’t at the upper floor, I headed in the living-room. I wanted to wake Fred up and tell him he should go back to his room: the couch would be enough for me, and I didn’t plan to sleep anyway. However, I found the living-room empty and began to wonder where he could be when I noticed the front door slightly opened. 

The cool air of the night made me shiver as I was looking for Fred. I spotted him sitting on the floor with his back resting against the broom cupboard. His gaze was lost somewhere in front of him, and he was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t hear me. He jumped when my leg brushed against his arm as I backed against the wall too. 

“What are you doing here, love?” he asked quietly. “You need rest.”

“I can’t sleep.”

It was all he needed to get up and engulf me in a hug. He wasn’t tightening me too hard and stroking my hair gently. I wrapped my arms around him and clenched the back of his shirt in my hands. 

“Come on,” he eventually said. “I’ll bring you back to bed.”

With an arm around my shoulders, he led me in the house. He was heading to the stairs when I stopped. 

“What’s wrong?” he said with a worried voice. 

I was looking at my feet, too ashamed of what I wanted to ask to look at him. 

“I can’t sleep…” I repeated. “Can we stay here?”

“Of course we can.”

The softness of his voice surprised me and I looked up to see a sweet little smile on his face. Fred let himself fall on the couch and made himself comfortable before taking my hand and pulling me toward me.

“Come here…” he whispered.

I snuggled against his torso and rested my head under his. He put his chin on my hair and wrapped me in his arms. The slow movement of his hands on my back helped me relax and his low voice seemed to echo in my ears as he constantly said sweet things. 

If I had stayed awake long enough, I would have heard him whisper in my ear.

“I love you, Y/N… I love you.”

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The atmosphere in the 12, Grimmauld Place was matching mine pretty well. What my father had done to me had slowly sunk in me, letting me in such a lethargic state that I knew everyone was worrying without being able to react. I couldn’t really eat as I always threw everything up, and I dreaded the darkest hours of the night, the ones during which my nightmares threatened to surface. When I lost the fight against my own body and finally fell asleep, it always ended in the same way: I woke up screaming no more than one or two hours later. 

One day, approximately one week after our installation there, Molly barged in my room as I was sitting on the bed and staring blankly at the wall in front of me. She was followed by Fred, and if I had noticed his excruciatingly worried face, I would certainly have felt guilty. 

“Y/N, dear, do you hear me?” asked gently Molly. 

I nodded weakly, my eyes not leaving the crack in the wall. It was forming a Y, funny isn’t it?

“I want you to drink that.”

Looking up from the letter formed by accident, I turned my head toward her and my eyes fell on the vial she was holding. 

“It will help you sleep, Y/N.” intervened Fred before sitting next to me and stroking my back. “A sleep without dreams, Mum made sure of it.”

I sighed and grabbed the vial, drinking the pink potion before getting any chance to regret it. I immediately felt my eyes closing, my head becoming heavier and my body slowly falling. Fred’s arms caught me and he delicately laid me on the bed. He kissed my forehead, whispered “Sleep well, Y/N” and left. Molly was still next to me, I felt her hand on mine, and as I was slowly falling in Morpheus’ arms I fought for just one more second of consciousness. 

“Thanks, Mum…”

And I closed my eyes, letting Molly wiping her tears away, covering me with a thin sheet and closing quietly the door. 

After almost fifteen hours of sleep, which was an absolute record, I felt better than I thought I would ever feel and the very first thing I did when I opened my eyes was looking for Molly. The curtains of my room were closed and the house was naturally dimly lit, that’s probably why I didn’t notice the sun was getting down in the sky. I was sure I would find Molly in the kitchen, and that’s without paying attention to the noise coming from the dining room that I opened the door. All the Weasley family along with Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Hermione were here. A few seconds of silence followed, only broken by Fred who precipitately jumped on his feet and walked toward me. 

“How are you feeling, sleeping beauty?” he winked at me, and I smiled genuinely for the first time in a while. 

“Fine, in fact… I wanted to thank you for that, Molly.”

“That was nothing!” she exclaimed before getting up and engulfing me in her best motherly hug. “Go sit down, I’ll bring you a plate. Go, honey!”

Fred grabbed my hand and dragged me to the empty seat next to him. Like a true gentleman, he helped me sit before gaining back his place and leaning toward me. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling well?” he murmured. 

I turned my head toward him and noticed his worried gaze… Just before realizing how close our faces were. There were only a few centimeters between our lips and for a second, I felt the urge to shut this distance down. His lips seemed to be so soft and-

“Oi love birds, not in front of everyone!” exclaimed someone - George probably, even though I hadn’t recognized the voice. Too focused on Fred, I guess. 

Fred and I both jumped and straightened, putting too much distance between us for my liking doing so. Molly arrived at the same moment with my plate and gave me something to occupy my mind and prevent it from making me imagine Fred’s lips on mine. Without caughting any of the amused looks around the table, I started eating, my heart skipping a bit each time my elbow brushed against Fred’s one. After the dinner, Molly summoned a few bottles of butterbeer and animated discussions formed between everyone. I was unable to participate in one of them, though, as I was exhausted. My magical sleep hadn’t been that helpful as it seemed. I felt my entire body becoming heavier and my head slowly leaning on my side - the side where Fred was sitting, of course. 

“Are you tired, love?” he asked quietly. 

I nodded and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. 

“Come with me.”

I got up and followed him, somehow managing to get upstairs in one piece. Fred opened the door and stepped aside to let me go in my room first… Which I didn’t do. I stopped, suddenly feeling the weight on my heart, the one of the fear, no, the terror of facing another night of nightmares. 

“Y/N?”

Fred put his hand on the small of my back and stepped closer. 

“I’m scared, Fred…” I whispered. 

“I’ll stay with you,” he said in the same tone. When he was next to me, the silence didn’t feel bad anymore. “You don’t have to be scared when I’m with you, Y/N. Never.”

“I know.”

A few minutes later, I was curled up on my side, and Fred was tucking me into bed. He made sure the blanket was all over me to stop my shiverings and he pulled a chair just in front of me. I extended an arm and grabbed his hand, which he tightened gently. 

“Thank you…”

“Anytime.” he winked. “I’ll always be there for you.” he leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Now sleep, love.”

This time, I heard it. It came in a whisper, when he was brushing a strand of hair off my face, when his touch was burning my skin and relaxing me all at once. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

And this time, I answered, my voice muffled by the fabric of my pillow and my lips forming a tiny smile.

“I love you too, Freddie.”

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

“Are you okay love? Did you sleep well?” Fred spoke up from his seat at the breakfast table, even though he knew the answers. 

It had been approximately a month since we had confessed our love to each other, a month since Fred had taken the habit to stay in my room most of the night, only returning in his when the sun rose. Obviously, George knew that but he had never told anyone, nor had he ever questioned us. Maybe Fred had asked him to, or maybe he knew the both of us well enough to let us figure this out by ourselves, fact is that he had never said anything about this. And I was more than thankful as I didn’t know what was happening. 

I loved Fred and he loved me, we were both sure of that. But the next day, we had done as if nothing had happened, keeping whatever existed between us in the same state as it had always been. I had slowly learned how to be myself again, keeping the abominable things my father had done to me locked in a hidden corner of my head. I spent my days helping everyone with the cleaning of the house, helping Molly in the kitchen or the twins with their inventions, sometimes cracking a joke or smiling quite genuinely. But the scars were still here, both physical and mental, both destructive and above all, both haunting my nights. The only thing that helped me going through the nightmares, which were in fact memories, was Fred. His arms around me, his voice whispering sweet things in my ear, that was my version of a dreamcatcher. 

“Y/N?”

Fred had gotten up and walked toward me without me even noticing. I nodded precipitately, not wanting anyone to worry more than usual, and joined him to eat. Molly put in front of me a plate full of eggs and patted my shoulder longer than usual. 

“I think I’ll leave you alone, no cleaning for today.” She announced after everyone had finished their eggs. “Oh, and remember me to talk to Alastor about the boggart in the living-room.”

The day would have been tranquil if the letters for Hogwarts hadn’t been delivered, and what promised to be a peaceful evening became a little party for Ron and Hermione, the new prefects. Fred and George were busy negotiating with Mundungus and that didn’t really interest me. I decided to leave and wait for Fred in my room. 

“Where are you going?” he asked after grabbing my hand. 

“In my room.” 

“Do you want me to come with you?” He said with a worried gaze, already giving his back to George and Mundungus. 

“No, don’t worry, I’ll wait for you.” I replied with what I hoped was a convincing smile. 

Fred eyes me suspiciously before laying a kiss on my forehead. 

“Call me if you need anything.” he whispered. 

I nodded and left him dealing with George’s jokes, the spot where Fred’s lips had touched my skin still tickling me. I quietly crossed the dark hall, absolutely not wanting to wake up Sirius’ mother’s portrait, and climbed the stairs. 

From where I was, the noise of the discussions in the animated dining room still arrived in my ears, soft voices muffled by the wood and several carpets they had to go through. However, a new sound soon appeared, a sound that seemed to be much closer. It was sobs. Slightly panicking, I considered for a second on calling for someone’s help, but a sob louder than the others indicated to me it was Molly and all hesitation disappeared. Guided by the sound, I found the door of the living-room where she was. 

“Molly, are you-”

And I froze. Molly wasn’t here, but my father was. 

I had immediately recognized his salt-and-pepper hair, and when he turned toward me, his glaring eyes burnt holes through me. My blood seemed to be freezing in my veins, and each heartbeat was painful, seeming so horribly loud that I was sure he could hear them. Hear how terrified I was. 

He said nothing, only looking at me with this insane expression, a vicious smile stretching his lips. With each step he took toward me, I took two steps backwards. The horror that filled my body, which I thought was at its paroxysm, reached its peak when my back eventually rested against the closed door. I was blocked, and he was getting closer. Soon so close that I could smell his breathing. Both my terror and the vapors of firewhiskey caused tears to roll down my cheeks. 

He was just in front of me, still looking at me without saying a word, one hand holding his wand and the other slowly reaching for me. The immense knot in my throat only disappeared when his fingers brushed against my shoulder, and I screamed louder than ever. 

It felt like I wasn’t myself anymore, like I had become a terrorized animal, all shaking and whimpering and curled up on a corner. I was blinded by my tears and didn’t notice that the threatening silhouette in front of me had changed and fallen on the floor like a rag doll. I hadn’t noticed Molly when she had rushed from where she had been hidden by the shadows, and I hadn’t realized that the door shutting open by Lupin had sent me on the floor, just next to the lifeless body that had taken Ginny’s form. 

Someone tried to wrap their arms around me and I screamed louder, fearing that it was him, that he was here to hurt me like he had done so often before. I struggled savagely, hitting whatever my hands and feet could reach, wanting nothing more than escaping the terror that was consuming me. And I kept screaming, my throat burning and my vocal cords weakening, my voice more and more broken as the minutes passed. 

“Y/N! Y/N, it’s me, Fred! Listen to me, please!”

It took a few seconds for me to understand that I wasn’t in danger anymore, and as my voice was dying in a sob, I looked up to Fred to see his eyes full of tears. When our gazes met, he whispered something I didn’t understand and engulfed me in a protective embrace, one of his famous hugs always able to make me feel protected. His arms crushing my bones helped me realize I was okay, and his voice barely controlled managed to soothe me. 

“Here, it’s over now. You’re okay love, you’re okay…”

“Fred, it was- he was here and-”

“No Y/N, it was a boggart. A boggart love, your- he wasn’t really here. I swear he’ll never get to be close to you anymore, you hear me? Never.”

I nodded absent-mindedly, still clearly distraught by what had just happened. I couldn’t help but look everywhere around me, furiously turning my head in all directions just to make sure that there wasn’t any danger. I didn’t pay any attention to all the people present in the room, the only ones who seemed really important being Fred and George, who was kneeling behind me with his hands on my shoulders. 

“I’ll ask Mum to give me a potion.” he said. 

Fred nodded and George left, ruffling my hair one last time before heading to Molly. 

“I’ll bring you back to your room.”

Fred helped me get up and guided me in the stairs. He was silent, his jaw was clenched and he never looked at me. He didn’t step aside to let me enter first and only let go of my hand when I sat on my bed. He kneeled in front of me but kept his head down. 

“I’m sorry Y/N,” he said, finally looking at me. “I should have come with you and-”

“I don’t want you to blame yourself for me not being able to recognize a boggart.” I cut him with a quiet voice. 

He was on the verge of protesting, I knew it, and I didn’t want to hear it. That’s why, instead, I kneeled in front of him, making some room between him and the bed. I grabbed his face and kissed him.

Tag: @pregnant-piggy​

[christopher-the-cube]

Whumptober 2020

No 1. LET’S HANG OUT SOMETIME Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging

AO3

Diego doesn’t quite understand what’s going on for a couple seconds- minutes, really.

One moment he’s in group therapy, next to some uptight shrink and that Lila chick that keeps following him around everywhere, and he’s shouting left and right, begging to be released already, and he knows he’s pushing his luck, he knows he’s being uncooperative and rude and violent and everything dear old dad always told him he was, and-

And the next-  

The next the shrink’s shouting, too, and suddenly there’s a nurse by his side, and she’s got a goddamned needle in her hand, and Diego freezes, and time freezes, and-  

And he wakes in a padded room, groggy, and dizzy, and defeated.

It’s like it happens in slow motion.  

Or-  

Or maybe whatever the hell was in that needle makes Diego feel like time doesn’t exist, like seconds and minutes and hours bleed into each other and nothing matters at all.  

He wakes up, and he has no idea what’s happening.  

He’s lying on his stomach.  

Everything around him feels soft- uncomfortably so, like he’s drowning and there’s no land to step on. He feels smothered. Hot. He can’t breathe properly. His hair starting to get a little too long and it sticks to his skin with cold sweat, pokes one of his eyes whenever he tries to move and makes it water, blurs his vision.  

He really has no idea what’s happening.  

He tries to stand up- to straighten up a bit and maybe sit down until the nausea and the dizziness and the lethargy pass or at least turn into something more manageable. He tries to stand up, to push into his hands and knees and roll over and maybe take a proper look at wherever the hell he is, but-  

But he can’t.  

He finds that he can’t.  

His arms-  

They’re-  

Diego takes breath, tells himself not to panic because he knows for a fact panicking only ever makes thing worse and he’s not really in a position to be making dumb choices.  

He tries moving again, smaller movements this time, experimental.  

And-

Yeah, yeah, his arms are definitely restrained.  

They’re stretched across his body and into his back, like he’s fucking hugging himself or something, and it’s not really an uncomfortable position at all, and nothing is digging into his skin, and the thing that’s smothering him feels soft and warm and thick, and-  

Diego’s next breath comes out ragged, awfully shaky.  

He really tries to stand up this time, but without his arms his balance is completely inexistent and he really has no fucking idea what was in that needle but he feels like he’s drunk or maybe worse, like he’s tired, like he’s worn, like all of his thoughts are tangled and nothing makes sense, like he doesn’t want to fucking be here.  

He falls on his face.  

There’s no nice way to put it.  

He stumbles, and falls on his face.  

The floor is padded but it still hurts like a bitch, and Diego decides he simply does not like its shrieking white color, its mysterious stains.  

He immediately tries again, doesn’t make it very far before he’s falling all over again, and so he tries again, and again, and again, until it occurs to him maybe he can’t fucking stand up just like that, so he rolls onto his back and shimmies pathetically side to side until he collides with a wall and leans into it, uses it for leverage until he manages to more or less sit upright.  

He’s panting by the time he’s done, his heart going a mile a minute.  

His head hurts.  

His stomach hurts.  

He can’t think, he can’t breathe, he wants to throw up so badly he’s not all that sure he’ll be able to hold it if he keeps moving.  

His arms are restrained.  

There’s no rope, no chains, no tape, just a giant white thing enveloping him and swallowing him whole, restricting his movements.  

His in a white, padded room.  

He’s also in a mental asylum.  

It-

It comes to him slowly, and when it does, it still takes him another couple seconds to fully process it, to understand its implications.  

He’s in a straitjacket.  

He’s been put in a straitjacket, in a padded cell, in a mental asylum, because he was too much of an idiot not get himself arrested the second he made it to the sixties, and-  

And it dawns on him, that this is the fucking sixties, and he’s no expert but he’s pretty sure psychiatric hospitals where shit back then, and-  

This is it, isn’t it?  

This is solitary confinement.  

This is a thing they’re allowed to do, to pump him full of drugs and tie him up and toss him in a cell, and that’s just standard procedure, isn't it? That’s how it works. It’s a fucking- treatment plan, or whatever, to leave him alone and forget about him for days on end.  

The thought is terrifying.  

It’s just plain terrifying.  

He can’t move, and he can’t breathe properly, and he’s dizzy, and he’s groggy, and he’s nauseous, and everywhere he looks everything’s strikingly white, and- and he can’t move . He can’t move . He tries to move, but he can’t, and so he tries again, but he can’t , and-  

And no matter how long roughly and sharply he tugs on the goddamned straitjacket he still can’t fucking move, and his shoulders start shrieking at him to stop, and everything hurts, and he can’t move, and-

Suddenly, suddenly, the levity of the situation really strikes him.  

His siblings are most likely dead.  

Every last one of them.  

Mom is dead.  

Pogo is dead.  

Eudora is dead.  

The closest thing he has to a friend is Lila, and she’s nice, and she’s sweet, and she’s weird as fuck, and Diego’s so fucking thankful they got thrown into the same loony bin at the exact same time, but still, she’s not his siblings, she’s not his family.  

He’s stuck in an unknown time, alone.  

He’s alone.  

Even if he somehow manages to escape or be released, he’ll still be alone.  

Everyone’s dead, and he will always be alone.

[devintrinidad]

Well I’m never going to write this.  But I do enjoy talking about this au. I think this AD au captures the characters in great way.

Oohh, I like that Macrophage Scientist even better. It helps explain why Macrophage took them in and how they even escaped. Macrophage set off the explosion and made it look like they all died in the process. Macrophage then had them all become Akudama and live in the slums of society to hide better. It would fit even more because I had this idea that 3803, as she got older, sometimes experienced biological issues. She’s perfectly healthy, but her body sometimes might stop working or she gets incredibly cold or hot or something. Maybe even goes temporarily blind. Thankfully 3803 always sees the warning signs a few days before happen so she can manage to work around job offers. Macrophage theorizes as 3803 grows, some stuff the older scientists did to her body went unfinished and her body is trying to deal with the changes as it griws and settles. Macrophage has made medicine to help 3803 (that she has to take daily, different doses depending on how she feels). But she still worries because she wasn’t one if the main scientists who experimented on them (because of her age at the time, Macrophage was more if a assistant in some experiments and caretaker of the subjects. She didn’t have access to everything). But it’s still concerning and they wonder if Platelet will experience them too or if she’s sage since she hadn’t been put through the last few experiments like 3803 had. 3803 also wonders if Cancer had gone through the same process and if she’s becoming a monster or something inhuman or she she can even die from this (3803 has a lot of stress behind her smiles). 

Cue 1146 being a overprotective worry wart whenever she gets like this. In fact before he became loyal to her, the one time as a Executioner he almost arrested her after he had had a bad day with a lot of nasty Akudama who had acted nice but deceived a lot of innocent people into their ruin. He even lost a comrade or two in the ruckus. He found her and impulsively grabbed her to ask her why she of all people is a Akudama! Instead of answering, 3803 goes limp and gets a blank look in her eyes like she’s a silent doll. He immediately panics and carries her to his living quarters. He fishes through her clothes until he finds what looks to be medicine. He can’t risk taking her to a doctor because she’s a akudama and he doesn’t know her friends yet. He takes the risk and follows the handwritten directions on the bottle to give her the right amount. Since she’s unresponsive he has to give her the medicine mouth to mouth (he only ever had one lesson so he hopes he doesn’t screw it up. He’s just thankful it’s liquid). After doing this two days, she finally acts responsive and thanks him because she was aware the whole time. She just couldn’t move. He gets down to business and asks her for her story. The implication he’s at a tipping point and he could grant her freedom or be 100% Executioner (being less then before us what got his comrades killed). She understands he’s at the edge and not the normal nice guy she’s been used to so she spills her whole story. She omits Macrophage and Platelet so they’ll stay safe either way but she figures she has no choice but to tell him about Cancer, the corruption and how she had to become a Akudama. He listens and surprises her greatly when he believes her. There are things he’s thought about for a long time and researched that don’t make sense to him. Everything she said fits in line. Plus he has wondered how she can heal so fast. He tucks her in his bed and tells her she can go in the morning. It still takes a few more weeks for 1146 to really leave the Executioners. Despite confirming the truth of the world. He still was attached to his life as a Executioner and all his friends there. He also thought about fighting the corruption inside the system because that’s what a good person would do. It was only when his mentor found out about 3803 from 1146 telling him about her in hopes he get some guidance that things changed. His mentor revealed he was in cahoots with Cancer and was now going to deliver her to him. Before he does though, Mentor makes absolute certainty that it’s her by brutalizing her to the point she should be dead but can’t die. 1146 is horrified by this and kills his Mentor to save 3803 and keep her secret.  With those actions, 1146 fully turns his back on the Executioners and loses all hope in the organization with the one person he looked up to most for guidance betrayed him. 

Luckily for him, he later meets Basophil Senpai who is a Akudama named, Philosopher. He’s a smooth talker who can discover the truth in any situation and can be quietly intimidating. He can also figure out how to disguise any lie if you need a new life. All for a price. He puts up with 1146’s idolization after they end up on the same mission (1146 is protecting a mob goon who’s having Basophil assist him in figuring which mafia gang killed his brother and lied about it. Then needs Basophil to fake his death after he kills them. Which Basophil does by cutting one of his hands off). 

There’s just something funny and tragic about 1146’s friends getting ready apprehend the legendary Deliverer who bewitched the equally legendary 1146 into abandoning them. Only to see she’s this tiny defenseless (normally she has a gun. But it’s gone now) cute woman glaring at them while protecting a sobbing child begging them to leave them alone. They’d be like, we were not trained for this. °_°;;;; After it’s all said and done, 4989 would try the hardest to make up with 3803 and Platelet for scaring them so much and arresting 3803 and 1146. Luckily they forgive him pretty easily after he saved 1146 and 3803. 

I like those pairs! How tragic though if 2001 is the one who stays behind? He believes 1146 and helps him. But he can’t be a Akudama. He stays behind to do what he can from there. Maybe try to make sure no one brainwashed Band Cell. Of course he’ll most likely die later. Maybe he still follows orders to fight 1146 like a good soldier would. But when 1146 delivers a fatal blow, 2001 gives him his blessing to go on and commends him for being a better man then him. 1146is understandably grateful for the blessing, but devastated that 2001 thought of himself as a coward. 

Yeah I think when it comes to Killer T and NK it’s a lot like in canon. They know they have the jurisdiction and duty to kill other cells if they need to. NK even gloating she can kill any cell she wants to without consequence. In AD verse, I can see them both knowing they have to do horrible things for their job. But they accept it because their world view deems it nessecary for order to not fall into anarchy. NK is known to be a lot smarter then the others so she probably figured out how warped the world is long before Killer T and 1146 did. But unlike 1146, both NK and Killer T don’t have the ideals to think they can have another life or do better. This is their mission and they believe 1146 is selfish and weak minded for turning his back on it. 

Yeah I could see Killer T eventually walking away from the Executioners. But again, he doesn’t have 1146’s ideals so he goes down a darker road. One 1146 disapproves of a lot. NK I could see sadly sticking to being a Executioner to the end. Maybe of 1146 doesn’t kill 2001, then she does when she figures out he’s still a little loyal to 1146. 

Boy every time I try to give Cancer and 3803 a platonic relationship you just want to throw Abnormalities spin on it. XD Okay. The way I see them is this. Cancer often visited the lab to check up on the progress. He called the subjects his children and eventually picked his favorites who he showed more affection for. Not coincidently those subjects were always the ones who showed the most potential to be successful candidates. 3803 was one of them. 3803 had spent her whole life in the lab. Her knowledge from the outside world came from stories from Macrophage and older kids and adults who were captured. The stories validated her fear of Cancer because she knows there’s something wrong with him and what he does. It gets worse as as she begins to lose friends along the way, like 4201 and 5100 or other kids who pass away. Cancer began treating her like his actual daughter when it was confirmed she was showing signs of being like him. He called her his princess. Often carried her around by balancing her on his hip with one arm around her while he checked up on everything. Kissed her forehead and cheeks. Took naps with her as told her bedtime stories. When she’s older, Platelet was introduced and thanks to all the successful experiments 3803 had undergone. The scientists performed the exact same ones on Platelet to find out she had the same potential. Cancer, to a lesser extent, also began showing his other ‘daughter’ favor. Despite this affection. Both girls are terrified of him because of how easy it is for him to become indifferent and even violent with those he claims to care for. Also despite claiming he loves them, he easily discards them and shows how indifferent he is when they die. He’s very two faced. 

Years later when Cancer discovers both of them survived. He uploads his consciences into mechanical animals or even hacking into their phones to spy on them. He sees 3803 has become a women and displays more signs of immortality then anyone else (besides him) he’s seen. He’s then like, my princess has become a queen. Then he starts getting both amused and jealous over 1146’s romantic feelings for her. During a actual confrontation between them, Cancer makes it clear he’s going to marry her himself and won’t share. 

I like the idea that, like in canon, Cancer can and will pretend to be a ordinary person just to observe or move things along. He can use technology to alter his voice and appearance. He’ll pretend to be one if his underlings underling, like a secretelary or a driver to get a good read on everything. He even developed a friendship with 1146 before 1146 left. Seeing 1146’s potential, he even recommended his inner circle to monitor and mold 1146 into some one who could be trusted. Maybe he even pretends to be a client to 3803. He, acting like a citizen, requests she bring him a package through a very dangerous area. When she arrives and delivers her package. He opens it to reveal it’s empty. She’s shocked and apologizes, wondering if she got it wrong. But he silences her by giving her a deep kiss on the mouth. He reveals what he wanted was to lock lips with the legendary Deliverer as if they were lovers. Before she recovers from her shock, he hands her a ton of money and dissapears. 1146 is not happy when he hears about this.

 Yes. 1146 is a big flippin deal to the Executioners. He was a prodigy from day one. A role model and well respected by everyone. He was already being groomed to be head Executioner one day. Him leaving the organization was a huge blow to morale and strength that they try to downplay and kept it secret from most lower rank Executioners that he’s a Akudama now for as long as they can. If possibly they do want him back. If they have to force him into it by messing with his brain by inserting control chip or threatening what he holds dear and put a bomb collar on him to keep up appearences. They will. 

Regulatory T would be a great Executioner. I could also see Helper T, Dendretic and many other immune cells being Executioners. Afterall they probably just can’t believe things can be different or think about whether it should be. They just do what they think they should because Cancer keeps everyone in so much darkness. 

3803 is a awesome gun user. It always surprises people because she usually just drives her motorcycle and acts more defensive then offensive. But if it came down to it, don’t think she’s unwilling to protect herself or someone else. She has nerves of steel and she’s seen things most couldn’t imagine.

The Executioners and Akudama they deal with quickly learn messing with 3803 is the fastest way to die by 1146’s brutal hand. He can’t imagine living without her. 

~~~

Geeez, I’m getting so into this, I might as well do it. (Hahahaha, I joke, but who knows?)

OOoofff, so many feels for 3803 here. Macrophage definitely feels guilty and tries to make sure that both Platelet and 3803 have a somewhat normal lifestyle outside of the experimental facilities, but there are times where she feels like she’s not trying hard enough. Even more so because 3803 and Platelet have become Akudamas and are at risk of becoming Executed. 

Macrophage not being one of the main scientists is also a good take on this character. 

Oooooohhhh, love how you put in a little backstory as to how 3803 and 1146 met. Of course 1146 would be reckless and impulsive enough to ask. I bet it was during this interrogation he was starting to have doubts about the Executioner’s role in society and how Akudamas weren’t all what they seemed. Awww, and 3803 does everything that she can to protect her loved ones! It really fits he character and I love it. 

Hmmm, who is 1146’s mentor here? You never quite mentioned here? Could it be U-1117 (if I remember correctly, this is the original white blood cell from the original pilot… or what about the Neutrophil teacher during his childhood in that one chapter from CAW canon?). It would be tragic considering that both of these characters are actually quite kind from the original source material. 

OH MY GOSH. BASOPHIL AS A PHILOSOPHER???? IT FITS SO NICELY!!! Hehehe, the whole time you’re talking about Basophil reminds me of this comedy sketch. 

Yup, the WBC squad are definitely trying to figure out how to deescalate the situation when they realize that 3803 and Platelet are definitely Akudama, but are they truly that bad? 

So many tragedies… 2001, in my opinion, is definitely the type of person who is loyal to their life’s calling to the very end, despite how corrupt or bad it may be. He promised to lay down his life as an Executioner and he’s going to stick to it. I imagine 1146 and 2001’s final confrontation might be similar to that Brawler and Master’s fight, except both are wielding sabers and are more focused on strategy over muscle. 

Totally agree with you on Killer T and NK. NK would definitely commend 2001 for his continued stay on the Executioner’s side. Like 2001, she would definitely try to change things on their side, but at the end of the day, orders are orders. There are definitely things she has done that she regrets doing, but to be honest, it’s the system’s fault, right? She’s cynical, but she understands that the Executioners are somewhat at fault for what’s happening.

Killer T would definitely be an Akudama and he would be called… I don’t know? Brawler has a nice ring to it, but I suppose if you wanted a new name, he could be called the Lone Wolf? Or Loner? After becoming disillusioned with the Executioners, he works on his own terms. Oooohhh, another one, Vigilante. He executes Akudama and Executioners he deems to have crossed the lines into illegal territory. 

Okay, to be fair, I was only suggesting a bit of a twisted relationship, hahaha. I’m not the one writing the creepy stuff in great detail. But, in all seriousness, I love the gradual descent into madness Cancer has with 3803. And his jealousy regarding 1146? He would definitely taunt him and tease him about the whole “Husband” thing that Macrophage has been talking about. 

Ooooh, and that last part with Cancer tricking 3803 into kissing him? That is so twisted and diabolical. 

I approve. XD

Anyways, yeah the entirety of the immune system are definitely Excutioners. XD It’s basically in their character descriptions, hahaha. 

As for 3803 being a great gunman? I was kind of entertaining the idea that she’s a pacifist and that throughout her career as the Deliverer, she has never outright killed someone. Injured, yes, but never killed. She would be the type of person to misaim on purpose so that they have another chance at life. The only reason she missed is because she did it on purpose.

(Have you watched Trigun? I’m kind of modeling her after Vash the Stampede, haha! Love. And. Peace!)

Anyway, at this rate, we might as well be writing season 2 for AD. Seriously, Kodaka where you at?

Thanks for the submission and I hope that you have a wonderful day! :D

[firebirdsdaughter]

Okay…

@briansastro10​

… I think we have a bit of a language barrier here, or something, and I’m afraid I don’t quite follow. If you don’t mind bearing w/ me, I get confused easily, but I do have things I want to say:

1) Horobi had no choice but to follow the Ark. He was hacked, aka mind controlled and brainwashed. He wasn’t ‘choosing’ to do any of that stuff, he was merely being used as a tool.

2) I don’t recall Horobi ever finding out Aruto was even at Daybreak, let alone lost family in it.

3) The thing I was criticising was the show’s decision to include a flashback of Soreo’s death in that sequence, bc it implies that the show and therefore the audience consider/should consider Horobi responsible for Soreo’s death, when not too long ago, they had Aruto shouting at Gai that he was the true cause of the Ark, and, again, the above brainwashing. Horobi was literally not in control of his own actions anymore than a MaGear at that point, it’s not right to let Jin, Naki, and even Raiden off the hook for the stuff they did under the Ark/Gai’s command and then blame Horobi for what he did. Jin was distributing ZetsumeRisers, Raiden was a spy, and Naki was manipulating everything and giving out RaidRisers, all by an external command, bc of manipulation (in the case of Jin and Naki) or hacking (in Raiden’s case). It’s really not right to recognise Yua’s, a full matured human adult who exhibited reasoning and at least reasonable emotional control and knowledge of morality, situation, to excuse her as having been manipulated and mistreated into doing the things she did, whilst blaming Horobi. Including Soreo’s death in that flashback implies that it should be considered equitable w/ Izu’s death, which it was not. Horobi did not kill Soreo, or even cause his death. For one thing, the explosion was caused by people trying to kill the Ark (another Soreo?) and, again, Horobi was brainwashed and not in control of his actions.

4) I will also repeat this as many times as necessary: Horobi was conditioned and used by the Ark. Again, to bring up Yua; she very nearly killed Izu in cold blood on Gai’s orders while Izu was panicked and confused and trying to run away. The only reason that did not happen was that Gai said the wrong thing and Fuwa snapped out of it in time. Here, Izu was completely calm, had plenty of time to dodge, clearly saw the threat, and did nothing. I bring this up bc both Horobi and Yua were in abusive, manipulative situations where they were controlled by someone else—the difference being, Yua was, again, a fully fledged human adult w/ a developed sense of right and wrong, enough that she knew what she was doing was wrong, but her situation had convinced her she had no choice. She was unwell and not in a good place. But she knew. Horobi literally couldn’t. On top of that, he was exposed solely to the Ark’s selective data (courtesy, Amatsu Gai), for years. Like he said in the AIMS basement, his understanding was that the Ark would always rise as long as human malice existed—and he didn’t turn on the Ark bc he suddenly realised humans were ‘good,’ but bc the Ark turned on HumaGear (and tried to make him kill Jin), and he realised what he wanted was peace and safety for HumaGear. But even after breaking free of the Ark, the conditioning and that belief still lasts. To him, seeking human destruction was merely the logical conclusion in order to ensure the safety of HumaGear. Humans teach HumaGear evil and give rise to the Ark, which is a danger to HumaGear, and caused him to do things that hurt HumaGear, the way his mind has been conditioned to work, the logical conclusion is to cut the knot and remove the ‘source,’ humans. It’s not a personal grudge, it’s being logical. That’s his thought process—and, honestly, he’s got a point, the Ark was created by humans, and they’ve never owned up to it, the guy responsible is walking around free, and a number of HumaGear died and suffered for it. It’s unclear when exactly the emotions start catching up to him—he was def managing to hold on to the logic, I like to think by focusing on the fact that he thought this would be best for Jin (he knew Jin was important to him, even if he didn’t know why, and he took the time to take care of him before going out). He’s very calm when talking to Izu and shows no aggression toward her, it’s not until Fuwa and Yua show up guns drawn that he reacts violently—bc he perceives a threat, sees their aggression, which counteracts Izu’s claims about the goodness of humans. All he sees is humans looking to destroy. But despite that, he still goes and asks Fuwa about proving the Ark will not rise again, and that’s another important thing; Horobi is looking for an absolute. He is looking for an absolute assurance that the Ark will not come back, that human cruelty will never be a danger again, and that’s not possible. Fuwa’s response, although it can be translated as a believable blunder on Fuwa’s part, does nothing but make the situation worse, bc he violently rejects Horobi’s question and says he’s there to destroy him and then prepares to shoot him. To Horobi, who got tortured the last time he asked a question, that’s enough. And right on the heels of that, Izu comes in and starts pressuring him about emotions. He’s stated to have been literally terrified of these sensations taking over him, and the Ark trained him react to that kind of thing w/ violence—bc he can’t attack the feelings inside himself, he system concludes Izu must be the source and fires on her… Only that doesn’t work, the sensations actually get worse. His increasing aggressiveness in insisting he doesn’t have a heart after that is basically a little kid getting more and more insistent that they didn’t steal a cookie when they did. He was conditioned to think removing Izu would remove the feelings, but instead that made it worse, harder to control, that frightens him even more, bc he doesn’t know what’s happening, he doesn’t know what those feelings are. He falls back on old answers to Jin’s questions bc he doesn’t know the answer (but we can’t let the son know that, father’s always have to have an answer). Meanwhile, he doesn’t understand why Aruto’s the Ark. Like, he def expected humans to resist, why wouldn’t they, I don’t think he’d’ve been surprised by Aruto being mad, Aruto’s been mad at him before for people he knew less. I think it was Aruto going as far as using the Ark’s power (also, I think the Ark still terrified him) that threw him for a loop and pissed him off (something he might’ve understood? But it had def never controlled him like that before). Additionally, I don’t think he could have conceived to seek revenge on his own—when Jin died, he was clearly overwhelmed and very dazed. It took Azu showing up and telling him how he felt for him to react. A friend put it really well, so I’ll paraphrase: Azu’s role for Aruto was ‘you are absolutely right to want revenge on Horobi!’ while her role for Horobi was ‘hey, hey, you want revenge on Aruto, right?’ Aruto jumped at the chance while Horobi didn’t know what to do, and ended up following the first lead he had—which was literally how the Ark kept him so easy to manipulate. I still don’t see the Aruto side of it (well… it’s complicated), but if you go back and look, I think you can def see how the Ark was conditioning Horobi as a patsy for this from the start.

4) Bc I refuse to ever let this go unsaid when discussing it, Horobi was not the only person responsible for the Izu situation. If I were to list the people I hold responsible, in order, it’d be: Amatsu, for creating the Ark in the first place. The Ark/Azu, clearly the AI w/ the most know-how, who very deliberately manipulated the whole situation, was well aware of what Horobi’s mental state would be like, and manipulated both Jin and Izu into being stupid. Fuwa and Yua for escalating things, esp bc Fuwa’s character development was allegedly about learning not to rush in swinging and literally the next episode Yua is giving a speech to Williamson about how they shouldn’t respond to the HumaGear’s ‘new hearts’ w/ aggression, like she didn’t do that exact thing, like, yesterday, wtf. Aruto, for hanging around outside instead of doing what one might expect from someone who wanted to resolve stuff peacefully and going to the root of the situation, and for not keeping an eye on Izu (I have other opinions about his behaviour there, but those are for another time), and for apparently not even bothering to try and give Izu a backup. And, finally, Horobi and Izu. Yes, I hold Horobi the least ‘responsible’ and I hold Izu responsible. Bc, and I do not mean this as an insult to any of the characters, it’s like taking a dog that was abused and used in dog fights and leaving it alone w/ a domesticated dog it doesn’t know. More than likely, if the domesticated dog starts trying to play like it’s used to playing the abused dog is going to react aggressively, possibly even bite. Neither Horobi nor Izu had the emotional maturity to handle that situation. He had been conditioned to fear and reject emotion, had been kept away from it, and therefore had no control over it, nor knew what it was—to him, it felt like some unidentifiable ‘sensation’ wrenching control away from him, clouding his mind; additionally, he’d just had his one attempt to reach out and understand violently shut down, and he’d been conditioned for years to respond to uncertainty and confusion by destroying the source—when Izu was prodding at him about feelings and ‘hearts,’ she pushed his already fragile state into full panic that he lacked the emotional maturity to handle, and he reacted the only way he knew how. W/ Izu, if she had just told Aruto, or anyone, anything about where she was going, tried to coordinate rather than just running off like that, if she hadn’t rushed him and repeatedly pressured and prodded him, if she had dodged, then things would have gone differently—but, ultimately, her data was just as biased as Horobi was, and she had absolutely no way to understand or work through what was going on for him. Horobi didn’t seek out Izu and kill her in cold blood, she approached him, and made a conscious choice not to dodge. If we want to get really deep, I also blame Korenosuke bc Izu not having a backup is stupid, it protected literally nothing, if they had actually tried to back her up and there was a reason why they couldn’t, I’d be less judgemental, but wtf the Zero-One equipment got hijacked up the wazoo and it’s very uncomfortable that Izu was just cool w/ that bc it ‘benefited humans’ and it made Aruto look kinda hypocritical… But that’s more the writers. But, to try and sum this up… I do give Horobi some responsibility, bc he yeah, he did pull the trigger, but the fact was, he didn’t understand what he was doing (also likely didn’t know Izu had no backup, it probably never occurred to him humans would do that), or why. Essentially, he was still being used as a weapon by the Ark, who manipulated the whole thing bu showing Izu that vision, making her rush in and not tell anyone, then the humans abandon their reasoning for an day and go in all aggressive, Horobi sees this as a threat, but even then still tries to reach out only to get shot down (literally), and then Izu comes in and stresses him out further and he cracks. And she chooses to stand there and take the hit. Gai knowingly shutdown multitudes of HumaGear w/ the intention of them never coming back online, Yua nearly killed Izu before, actively hunting her down, Fuwa, I love him dearly, but Fuwa was down to smash every single robot he saw no matter what they said. These were human adults w/ knowledge of morality and emotional maturity and control (okay, Fuwa’s a little debatable…). All of them, esp Gai, are walking around just fine. Like. Gai. Gai. Aruto goes Ark on Horobi for this but is letting Gai walk???? I don’t even like Aruto, and that’s ooc! But to try and sum up my sum up: Horobi was the gun Azu shot Izu w/. It was a gambit. She deliberately manipulated them all into a situation where this would happen. Yes, Horobi pulled the trigger, but if this were court, a plea of insanity could be made/he’d be being sent to a psychiatric ward rather than regular prison.

5) Horobi blaming himself is one thing. It was very clearly depicted before that he had no sense of free will for himself, he only knew the Ark’s will. It is absolutely natural that after being so deep under the Ark’s control for so long, he’d have immense trouble differentiating between his own, new will, and the Ark’s. He might not be able to tell what he wanted or what the Ark wanted. He genuinely does not know how to make that distinction. He also has literally only just kind of gotten a grasp on consequences and cause and effect. I’d love to think he’ll be allowed to figure out he was manipulated by the Ark and that things like that weren’t things he wanted to do, but I dunno if the show will give me that. What I’m criticising is the apparent intent of saying that the audience should blame him for those things. What I want is confirmation that Aruto knows that the situation was manipulated, that Horobi wasn’t ‘in control’ when that happened. I wanted Aruto to respond to Horobi blaming himself for Izu and Jin’s deaths w/ ‘it’s more complicated than that.’ Horobi blaming himself is understandable, bc he’s barely figured out cause and effect, regret, anger, that shooting things is not an appropriate way to handle a situation. He’s only just gotten a few emotions. Nuance is going to be lost on him for a bit. He’s been trapped seeing only in black and white for so long, he’s going to need help seeing grey. Horobi blaming himself makes sense. I’m just criticising that the humans, who should know that it wasn’t as simple as that, didn’t let him know tha t he didn’t need to shoulder all the blame. Bc he was just a single part of a whole chain of events, not the sole cause. And I’m criticising that the show seemed to be implying that he also had a responsibility for Soreo’s death, which was a completely different situation that he def was not responsible for.

This is likely way more than you were expecting, and I do talk a lot, I know. I just wanted to try and establish my reasoning here. I hope I wasn’t too incomprehensible, I have trouble articulating my thoughts outside of fictional writing. I think I’ve just been keeping a lot of this in.

I should say that if you are bothered by my stance on this, I would recommend blocking me or my Zero-One tags, bc I am stubborn as all hell and will not budge, and will occasionally be very vocal. Horobi is very important to me, and I have no sympathy for victim blaming, esp not when it involves literal perpetrators getting away scot free (*cough cough* Amatsu Gai *cough cough*).

[chaoswillcalmusdown]

Title: saw your face and got inspired Pairing: Mohammed Razzouk/Amira Thalia Mahmood Summary: Amira’s getting ready for another year of university when she meets a special someone who knocks her fully off her feet. My @yousanaexchange gift for the awesome, super sweet and super smart @thickskinandelasticheart I tried really hard to make it enemies-to-lovers as per your request but it might be a bit more of dumbasses-to-lovers. Either way, I hope you like it! I really enjoyed writing it. Special shout out to @naslostcontrol for reading it over and making sure it was fit for public consumption 😊

It's not like Amira planned to end up in this situation, it just kind of spiraled out of control. She's never been scared to speak up or voice her opinion, but she's realising that they've been arguing for 15 minutes at this point and the rest of the group is starting to shift in their seats and look at their phones. Amira takes a deep breath, then stares into Mohammed's frustratingly sparkly eyes and calmly says, "Look, I just don't think it's fair to demand emotional labour from oppressed groups in order to educate those who don't give a single shit." She shrugs and then looks over at Faizal, the president, and says, "Uhm, sorry, this really wasn't relevant for the meeting."

She can see from the corner of her eye that Mohammed's head is tilted as he stares her down from across the room. As if she's going to be intimidated by that? What a dick.

Faizal smirks, rolling his eyes, "oh, so we're allowed to move on now? You're finished now?"

Amira smiles angelically, simply adding, "Yep."

The meeting was supposed to be about what kinds of educational events the islamic society wants to do, and Amira thinks all the suggested options cater way too much to the Alman desire rather than intra community issues and needs. She's honestly sick and tired of having to sit through the same kinds of panels discussing whether or not islam is actually feminist/sexist/peaceful/violent/homophobic and so on, she's sick of force-feeding Almans hours of information and sharing her lived experiences only to be met with the same kind of liberal 'color blindness' bullshit she's faced since kindergarten. She deals with enough of that from her fellow students, professors, even the girls from time to time. The islamic society was supposed to be a place where she could chill and hang out with "her people". Faizal decides that they'll postpone the decision making another few weeks and in the meantime asks everyone to make sure they send in suggestions, so the future votes can be as democratic as possible.

Amira takes that as a slight dig, because she knows her opinions aren't really popular among the group. She came into the society looking for friends from within the community but she's managed to clash with most of the group in some way, either with her views or more likely the way she presents them. Nothing out of the ordinary, to be honest. She honestly understands the point of inclusive or educational events, but she would just love it if they could do something else as well. She'd love for them to go beyond what makes the university look good and woke, and do some important things. Create real change. The way German society still isn't okay with hijabis in certain careers is only one of the issues that she's passionate about, but the rest of the society seem to be fine with focusing their attention and resources on holding Eid barbecues and islamic panels where everyone always agrees on everything. She wants to do something that makes a difference. Something that matters. Maybe this society isn't the place for her, after all? Maybe Amira should be focusing more on the campus political parties in the next semester? The meeting wraps up and there are always snacks at the end, so Amira pours herself some tea and grabs a pastry. It's only Tuesday but her mum's been texting her all day about coming to the mosque this Friday. She's really running out of excuses that aren't the truth, but it feels too complicated and ungrateful to put into text and send to her mother, so she just replies with an affirmative.

Faizal comes over to her, giving her a fond but exasperated look. "Dude, I know you've gotta be tough to handle politics, but like. I think you need to relax just a tad. You-" He cuts himself off when someone walks behind Amira to get to the cups. "So, now you've met our charming Amira, eh?" he says to this person, grinning way too widely for Amira's comfort. Sure enough, she turns around and is face to face with Mohammed. He's frustratingly perfect-looking up close, even though his hair is stupidly swoopy and his eyebrows are huge. He's grinning at Faizal in a way that feels condescending as hell. Awesome. Amira sighs, ready to say something mean so she can excuse herself from this entire narrative.

But Mohammed beats her to it. "Yeah," he says softly, this time directed at her rather than at Faizal, "The girl with the coldest gaze." Amira really doesn't like his tone. It's condescending and smug. "It's been an enlightening but terrifying first encounter, Frau Bundeskanzlerin." He mimes a tiny bow, still fucking smirking, and then walks off. What a dick.

- - - - -

Amira has a lot going on in her life. Apart from her combined history and political science degree and her part time tutoring job, she's a sister, a daughter, a friend, and apparently a severely underpaid life coach. She's sat with Sam and Matteo in the campus coffee shop, drowning their sorrows in pastry and trying to get some work done at the same time. She attempts to listen intently to Matteo's latest crisis while she watches Sam sketching for a project. There's something going on with knitting and apparently it's all about dimensions and angles. It's kind of interesting, honestly, with the geometry of it all. But it's mostly making her feel a bit dizzy because of how circular Matteo's anxieties are.

Amira can't help but interrupt, "Matteo, habibi, you know I love you?"

"But shut the fuck up?" he asks self-deprecatingly, scrunching his face up, still dragging one hand harshly through his hair.

"Hä? No, no. I was going to say that we've had this exact conversation before. And, remember how I told you that there's nothing wrong with going to therapy, even just to try it out."

Matteo clenches his jaw, dragging his hand down his face, then letting it drop limply onto the tabletop. He'd gone once during his gap year, but after he'd decided to study programming he claimed he felt "much better" so he never went back. David's been worrying about him, and has tried to involve Amira in his plan to get Matteo to therapy. Along the way they've found that it's truly not possibly to get Matteo to do anything Matteo does not want to do. Amira still prays that he'll find peace and get help, but she's really stopped nagging him. However, when he brings up feeling overwhelmed and frustrated she can't help but speak up and repeat the suggestion. Maybe he'll eventually take the advice.

David arrives and drops down next to Matteo. He's working on a short film outside of his studies and is currently storyboarding, which of course means that Matteo is going to do anything he can to disturb the creative process. It might be cute how they devolve into play fighting even after multiple years, but Amira honestly just finds it ridiculous. Sam is asking about Amira's studies, nodding along to Amira's story about the world's most boring professor, when the impossible happens. Mohammed walks up to the table, wearing the cafe's  apron, asking if they've got any empty cups they want to get rid of. Sam thanks him, being friendly in a normal way. Amira's just frozen. Before he leaves, he gestures to Amira's full black outfit complete with black nails, then to her phone which is lying on the table with the case side up, proudly stating 'Black is my happy colour' and says, "Black suits you." Then he turns and jauntily walks into the back, with his tray of dirty mugs. Amira can feel her face heat, which in turn pisses her off. Thankfully, at least no one else can tell she's blushing.

"God, what a dick," Amira huffs.

"Hä? Amira!" Sam laughs. "He didn't even say anything bad?!"

"He commented on my looks? Is that seriously necessary?"

"God, Amira, don't be such a manhater. He was just appreciating your aesthetic. I'm sure he's a totally nice guy. I mean, he's really attractive, and you know incels are always fucking ugly."

Matteo apparently tunes into the conversation at this point, "hey! What's this about hating men? Men are totally awesome!"

Amira narrows her eyes at him, gesturing to where he's stretched across David, keeping him from his sketchbook and holding David's pen high in the air so David won't be able to reach it.

Matteo straightens up, puts David's pen back. David grabs it with a wink in Amira's direction. "I mean, sure, we're stupid, but all men aren't?"

- - - - -

Whenever she says she's busy, Amira's mum gets annoyed with her, so Amira finds herself at a random event at her local mosque. There's some kind of lecture, and then supposedly there'll be food after. Amira can't help but notice that neither of her brothers were nagged into attending, but that's fine. She's somewhat excited to see the girls she used to hang out with all the time, but now only really sees occasionally at the mosque. Or at someone's wedding, which there have been a lot of. She's officially the last one out of her Sunday school group to be married, not that she would have expected anything less. Aunties have always told her she'd have a hard time finding a man to put up with her "strong opinions".

Amira grabs a mug of tea, and is about to scan the room for her girls when an older couple appear. She vaguely knows who they are, thinks they're parents of one of Omar's friends from school. She says hi, and tries to make some polite small talk. Then, the woman goes, "Oh, we heard your brother's getting married!" and Amira realises what's about to happen. She pastes on a polite smile and replies, trying to look around for someone who can save her from this conversation. The husband continues on to jokingly ask if she's next, and Amira keeps the smile on her face when she says, "Oh, I'm focusing on my career first. I still have another a bit left until I graduate." The wife pats her husbands arm and points out that Amira is studying politics. He chuckles and asks, "Are you still doing that? And what are you going to use that degree for? Are you planning on being the first German chancellor with a hijab? While somehow managing a family, as well?" They both chuckle, in a kind of 'oh how silly of her' way. The wife says, "No, Amira, habibi, I think it's great that you're getting yourself educated. They always say that an educated woman teaches a whole village."

Amira sighs, draining her mug. "I don't know about a whole village," she laughs dryly, then says a somewhat polite goodbye and hightails it out of there. When Amira finds her friends, Nadia's talking about her new husband, complaining that he expected her to know what to buy his mother for a 50th birthday present. Someone else is laughing and saying, "Well, wasn't he always a bit distracted?" Amira remembers him well from school and cannot imagine that he has since grown out of his fuck-boy phase into a good husband. While the girls chat about their awful spouses, Amira's attention drifts and she somehow ends up on Mohammed. With a woman in a hijab and two younger kids. She feels a bit unsettled, even worse when they lock eyes across the room and Amira feels her face heat. Mohammed looks confused but then gives a tiny wave before he turns back to the kids.

When Amira snatches her eyes back onto her friends, everyone's looking at Amira. "Hä, sorry?"

Nadia rolls her eyes, "We were just wondering if there's anyone special in your life?"

Amira barks out a laugh, "Wow, no, I'm way too young to get married." She might have forgotten to censor herself there for a second. "Um, I mean, I'm going to graduate first, but I'm looking into post-grad right now, so. It's not a priority yet."

- - - - -

Amira gets home from the mosque annoyed. Over the weekend she goes to a boxing class, and afterwards decides to focus on her studies, and figure out what she's going to do about the islamic society and everything else later. And what she's going to do about everyone at the mosque constantly asking her about her future, all now that your brother is getting married, isn't it your turn next, dear? She's got a few really interesting classes going on at the moment and she heads to her first tutorial which is on European politics. She sees a few familiar faces and chats until the professor shows up and they all file into the room and pull out all their notes. Amira's rooting around in her bag for a pen to lend to her neighbour, when she hears the door open and a smooth voice say, "sorry I'm late". The professor, a really nice but very old white man chuckles and says, "no worries, we haven't quite started yet." Amira reflexively looks over to see who it was, locks eyes with Mohammed, and firmly looks away. This is fine. There are always new people in tutorials, and sometimes you recognise them from around campus. No big deal. Amira passes the pen along and logs onto her computer. She's always been an achiever, and she's not planning on letting herself get distracted by anything. As always, she raises her hand to answer the first question the professor asks, but is surprised when she looks over and sees Mohammed already raising his hand and speaking. Even worse, he's saying the exact thing Amira was going to say. She drops her hand, cracking her neck and stretching out her shoulders, and makes sure to be the first one to raise her hand at the next opportunity instead. Game on.

- - - - -

As much as Amira tries to focus and center herself on what she's trying to achieve, her education and all the things that matter in her life, she can't help but feel unsettled. Every time she has a politics class, Mohammed is just there, raising his hand a split second before Amira and constantly just arguing and disagreeing with her. Whenever she goes to an islamic society meeting, Mohammed is there and yet again, frustrating her and disagreeing with her. She keeps up with her routine, prays and goes to boxing with Sam or Hanna, and tutors, and studies. But she keeps getting distracted, while studying and while praying and even while boxing. All because of one annoying guy. She's heading over to her brothers' shared apartment on a Friday night to drop off a text book for Essam on her way to Mia's place for "girls wine and cheese night". She's got two essays almost due and would genuinely love to get a start on those, but the girls won't let her sit at home on a Friday night while doing research for school. Sam had said it's out of the question, mom.

Essam opens the door, while stuffing his face with pizza. Amira plops her bag down on the floor by the door and shakes out her shoulders. When she looks up, Essam's got a confounded look on his face, "Are you carrying around bricks?!"

"I wish," Amira mutters pulling out the book he needed and dropping it on the ground, letting it thunk. "Gimme some pizza."

Essam snorts and gestures into the apartment, "Bad week?"

"You don't even know. The most annoying guy is in my class. And literally everywhere I look. Such a fucking pain in the-" They turn the corner into the open plan kitchen-dining-living room, and who's sitting at the breakfast bar, handsomely typing away at a computer? Mohammed, of course. At this point, Amira should be fucking expecting it.

Essam grabs Amira a slice and, upon seeing her bewildered face, goes, "Oh, you haven't met! This is my pal, Mohammed, he's the guy who's gonna take over Omar's room after he gets married. My soulmate, yadda yadda."

Mohammed smiles at Amira, "We've met, actually," he says. Amira swallows around her bite, trying to smile since she can't speak due to the chewing. "Through the islamic society," Mohammed adds, shrugging. Amira tries to read off his face whether he heard her ranting as she entered, or not. He doesn't look very offended, so she figures he probably did not.

"Huh," Essam says, nodding. He turns to Amira, "Hey, sorry, you were venting. Something about a really annoying guy?"

Mohammed leaves about twenty minutes later, apparently heading home for dinner. Amira waits approximately 2 seconds after she hears the door close, until she's rounding in on Essam. "How did you not tell me about Mohammed?!" She demands, not realising how ridiculous that sounds, until it's too late. Essam stares at her like she grew a third eye.

"I don't tell you every time I make a friend, Litschi! What the hell?"

Amira shakes her head, pacing. "That's Mohammed," she says. Essam nods, looking towards confusedly at the now closed front door. "No, Fruchtzwerg, it's Mohammed. The annoying guy who appears in every fucking part of my life, and frustrating the hell out of me. It's Mohammed."

"Oh shit."

- - - - -

Essam's confused about the entirety of Amira's story, because Mohammed never argues and Mohammed's the nicest guy ever and most confusingly Mohammed? Is in the islamic society committee? Really? Amira's at a loss. Essam claims to know the guy, but either he doesn't know anything about him or Mohammed's just different with different people. And that's always a bad sign when it comes to guys. Obviously guys lie, and Amira's had enough interactions with guys from all over the place to know not to trust one at first sight. Not that she would want to trust Mohammed for any reason. She just doesn't want her brother to be scammed or anything. It would suck for Essam if Mohammed turns out to be a shitty person.

Amira eats most of Essam's pizza while she fumes over Mohammed's occupation into yet another aspect of her life. She really doesn't know how she's supposed to handle all this exposure to his dumb face. And then Essam points out that Mohammed's going to be in Omar's wedding, so Amira needs to somehow settle a truce with the guy, which is just perfect.

That Sunday marks some anniversary of Kiki and Carlos' which requires a house party. Amira arrives after her prayer with some vegetarian pizzas from down the road. She catches David and Matteo chatting, or probably more likely making out, right inside the front door, and then gets encased in a monster hug from Sam. They chat over pizza, and then, who comes through the door after Jonas? At this point, it should not even surprise her. Mohammed walks through into the living room, waving awkwardly as he gets introduced to everyone. Sam and David seem to already know him, and Matteo, too. Amira is just lost. Even more surprisingly, Essam walks in after them. He waves excitedly at Amira, and Amira really longs for a time where all the different parts of her life were neatly compartmentalised and never met each other at house parties. Next, she's gonna have to introduce her parents to Kirlos or something equally ridiculous.

"He's very cute, huh?" Sam asks Amira, jabbing her playfully with her elbow. Amira rolls her eyes reflexively. "Oh come on, Amira, he's cute. And he's wholesome. You always say I need to date more wholesome men."

Amira shrugs. "But you know a lot of arabs are racist," she mumbles, taking a swig of Pepsi to calm her suddenly agitated nerves.

Sam snorts, "Yeah, thanks, I know. I can be careful, mom."

Kiki and Mia walk over, with Kiki looking between Amira and then Essam and Mohammed. "The blond guy was waving like he knows you," Kiki points out, while Amira curses Essam's entire personality and existence, "Are these guys like your relatives?"

Sam busts out giggling, asking Amira in a silly voice, "Do you know all the arabs in Berlin, Amira dear?" When Kiki looks shocked, she adds, "No, Kiki, I'm kidding, don't worry, sorry, sorry," all while still giggling. Amira thinks back to the time when Kiki had asked Sam if she and boy Sam were related.

"Ha-ha," Amira mutters. "I actually do know them, though. The blond one is, unfortunately my brother."

"No way!" Mia gasps, slapping Amira's shoulder. "You're nothing alike."

"Alhamdulillah," Amira mumbles, setting Sam off into another bout of giggles. Mia smiles, but manages to restrain herself. Amira huffs, adjusting her scarf. "No, he's not that bad… he's just loud? He's my younger brother so of course he annoys me".

"What about the other guy," Mia asks, "You know him, too?"

Sam hums, "Hot, right?"

Mia's appraising Amira very intently and Amira really hates it. She shrugs, "He's a friend of Essam's, I don't know him very well."

Essam appears at her shoulder with Mohammed in tow, and they all get introduced. Essam flirts way too much with Kiki, and Amira tries to melt into the ground with secondhand embarrassment. Eventually Carlos drifts over, probably to show Essam that Kiki is taken, which is just cringe worthy on its own. Amira catches Mohammed's eye just as Carlos wraps his arm firmly over Kiki's shoulders and Kiki looks back at him confused. Mohammed looks like he's trying really hard not to laugh, and he raises his eyebrows, pinching his lips together. Amira shrugs, mouth lifting into a smile before she can stop herself. She pulls her eyes away, anywhere else. Her eyes settle on Jonas trying to teach Matteo some chords on the guitar, and Hanna chatting animatedly with David in the corner next to them. Then, she overhears someone daring to besmirch the name of Mohamed Salah. She looks up, locking eyes with a grinning Mohammed. Carlos is saying something ridiculous about Manchester United, and Amira truly cannot believe the joy she's seeing in Mohammed's eyes. Or the way he's confidently nodding along with Carlos' unbelievably incorrect rant. Sam and Mia look lost, but Essam's grinning gleefully at Amira. As the middle child in a family of strong opinions, he's grown up to become the most neutral person Amira knows, and watches sports mostly to see how riled up Amira and Omar get. "You must have an opinion on this, Litschi, as someone who has a life-sized cardboard cutout of Mo Salah in their room?" Essam's making himself sound like a beat reporter, looking around the group to make sure he has everyone's attention.

Amira clenches her jaw, knowing that she'll never live that nickname down now that the girls have heard it. She can see Sam mouthing it, looking delighted. "You bought me that cut-out, Fruchtzwerg, but yes, I do have an opinion on Mo Salah, the best football player of this generation."

Her argument doesn't quite convince the boys, but then her Maghrib alarm goes off and she slips away to Kirlos' bathroom followed by their bedroom. She's perhaps making a lot of effort to walk without stomping, but having to be at a party with her idiot brother is just really fraying on her nerves. She's never had to interact with him and her friends at the same time. She knows that he thinks she's acting weird, and so will the girls, probably. The'll think she's too harsh on him, or something. Amira's really not a massive fan of praying in her friends' bedrooms, but it's better than a bathroom so she'll take it. She can hear literally everything that's going on in the party, the bass vibrating the walls and floor, and honestly doesn't know how she's meant to be able to focus on anything except that new Zara Larsson song that Kiki's doing a cover of.

When she walks back into the living room, she can't help but feel frustrated about the way she always misses random chunks of parties. She'll come back from praying and catch the girls in a joke that falls flat when they try to explain it to her. You had to be there sometimes feels like the story of her life. The groups have rearranged since she left. Kirlos have ended up on the sofa, with Sam and Mia still talking to Mohammed, while Essam seems to be bonding with Matteo. God help them all. Amira walks over to Sam, because she's still holding Amira's drink. Not for any other reason. She can't help herself, so she asks Mohammed if he's not going to go pray, knowing full well that Essam won't. His smile falters, but he shrugs and says, "I'm not really going to bother in these circumstances," gesturing at the loudness of the party.

Amira can hear Essam's carefree laughter, bristles at the ease and lack of tension in Mohammed's shoulders and she truly doesn't mean to, but she ends up saying, "So you just pray when it's convenient for you?"

Amira can hear Sam make a noise of awkwardness next to her, and she knows she's out of line, knows she has a tendency to attack first, but she's bone-tired and frustrated and nothing she does or is expected to do is ever easy or convenient.

Mohammed, eyes hard, replies, "I thought Islam taught you not to judge. And I don't know if you know, but Germany has laws that regulate a person's right to practice religion how they want, or not practice at all, thank you very fucking much." He looks disappointed at her, which hurts more than she'd like. And then he turns and leaves. Amira feels like the whole party has quieted down, like everyone saw that, but in reality only Sam and Mia did. Though Essam will probably hear about it later.

"Ouff," Sam whines, "Amira, that was harsh".

Amira groans. "You okay?" Mia asks, looking concerned. Amira sighs, squishing her eyes shut.

"Fuck."

"You look like you need a drink," Sam points out. Amira laughs, desperately. "Let's make you a fabulous mocktail. I'm too tipsy to solve anything right now."

- - - - -

Amira wakes up in stages, first noticing the offensive brightness of the room, and burrowing deeper into the covers to try and avoid facing the day. She and Mia went home with Sam and ended up falling asleep and Amira can hear Sam and Mia chatting away, though in hushed tones. She can't help but groan as she stretches. It's far too early.

"Morning, Litschi!" Mia calls, and Amira groans louder. She forgot about that.

The girls let her wake up while they get some tea and wrangle together breakfast. Amira stares at the ceiling and pointedly does not check her phone. She does, however, get up to pee and then pray. When she gets back the girls have managed a decent spread with the leftovers in Sam's fridge.

"We should talk about Mohammed," Sam points out. Mia nods. "You were really mean." Mia nods again.

"You like him, don't you?" Mia's got her knees up, chin resting on them. Amira sputters in response.

"That's a yes!" Sam cheers, giggling.

"It's not," Amira sighs. "He's just a douchebag. Like, he's so flippant about important stuff. Like religion. And he's constantly appearing everywhere I go and annoying me."

"But you still went off on him pretty harshly," Mia points out.

"Maybe he's not muslim?" Sam suggests.

Amira shrugs, mutters, "if he's not then I definitely won't like him but he's in the islamic society, so I doubt that's actually the case. Even though he's maybe not a very good muslim."

"He's there, too? Like, is he stalking you, or?"

Amira sighs, shaking her head, "No, he's just in the islamic society and in my politics class and living in my brother's apartment, and also apparently he now goes to my mosque, too?!"

"Don't forget he's pals with Jonas, too," Sam mentions, laughing. "Listen, there must be a reason this handsome but annoying man has entered your life. Maybe you just need some patience."

Amira groans, but Sam pushes on, "No, Amira, you always hate guys on sight. Like with Alex," she gestures at Mia and Amira does feel bad because she's never really owned up to that, "or with Jonas, with Stefan. Guys lie and all that."

Amira honestly can't argue with that, and she hates it. Mia's been quiet for a while, and looking thoughtful, but she then gets this sparkle in her eyes. Amira hates that even more.

Later that day Mia texts her:

(Not to play devil's advocate but, don't you think it's possible that you're hiding a bit behind the 'bad muslim' thing? Because I think you guys have some incredible chemistry)

That text might haunt Amira for a while, even if she sends Mia a very stern reply.

- - - - -

Amira's chatting to her dad on the phone later that night, and she'd been trying to finish her assigned reading for the week but she kept getting distracted. She honestly felt pretty shitty about how she'd treated Mohammed. She'd had a whole heap of small frustrations building up and she had just accidentally unleashed them all straight into his bothersome face even though most of her frustrations were not at all his fault. She knew she had to apologise, and she genuinely wanted to but she struggled admitting to her brothers that she'd gotten an actor wrong because she hates being wrong. She's always right, so she's really not good at admitting fault.

"Amira, habibi, are you doing something else while we're talking?"

"Huh? Sorry, dad, I'm just a little distracted."

"Ah, I see, well, tell your old man and he can solve all your troubles."

"Hah, thanks, dad. I don't know if you can solve it, though. I was pretty rude to someone for no reason and now I have to apologise to them."

Amira's dad hums. "Was this the same boy as the annoying one in the islamic society that your mum told me about?"

"Yes," Amira mutters. Her parents truly seem to not keep any secrets from each other.

"Hah, well, you've always been very proud, kiddo. I always loved that about you. You know your worth and you don't take shit from anyone. But, before you get too comfortable, you're also terrible at admitting when you're wrong."

"Wow, thanks, dad."

"You get that from your mum, you know. I truly do think it's a good thing, but I hope you don't feel like you always have to be perfect. You've always been strong but it's good to be vulnerable, too. It's hard, sure, but good things do happen when you let your guard down just a tad."

"Ugh, dad, that was so sentimental."

Her dad laughs, "Yes, habibi, I know, I know. Let's switch topics. Tell me about the lecture you had this morning."

- - - - -

Amira is really not in the mood for an event, but even she can agree on the importance of this specific one. It's taken a lot of organisation for everything to work out, and it involves 4 societies (which is also partly why David is involved) and spans a month with one focus each week. This week's fundraising focus is the charity Jonas volunteers for, which does a lot of work with refugee integration in Berlin. She arrives a bit earlier because she promised David and Jonas she would, even though her mother is frustrated with her for not coming to the mosque for some kind of "women in islam" lecture held by a panel of men. Kiki's asking the group chat for a pre-party and since Amira is arriving at the club, she just turns the sound off and heads in, following the music to where she expects to at least find Jonas. She sees Matteo and David hanging out by the stage, where Jonas of course is sat on a stool with his guitar. Jonas sees her and calls her over and while she's approaching she takes in the other figures in the room. She mostly sees people she's never seen or people she's possibly passed on campus before. But then she sees Mohammed standing behind Jonas, by the mic, singing quietly and chatting to Jonas about something, brows drawn. He doesn't seem to notice her, so she keeps approaching.

"Study partner!" Matteo whisper-calls out, turning around to grab and open a coke bottle for Amira, "come join the soundcheck squad."

Amira accepts the drink and asks what they're up to, trying to avoid Mohammed's eyes now burning into the side of her head from where he's still chatting to Jonas.

David wiggles his eyebrows at her, "oh, we're just waiting for the jam session to pick back up. They weren't sure on which key to use, or something nerdy like that." He turns to look at Mohammed, who rolls his eyes, but Jonas starts playing. The room is filling up, there are a few people working behind the bar and some others decorating and moving tables around. Everyone's chatting to themselves and no one is really paying any attention to the stage, where Amira assumes the boys ended up helping Jonas with "soundcheck" in order to avoid manual labour. Amira truly hates being a cliche, but when she first hears Mohammed's voice, goosebumps erupt along her arms. She crosses them across her chest, gripping the coke bottle. David's swaying along and he and Matteo whoop encouragingly at certain notes and lyrics. Amira can't help but grin at their contagious hype, but when she turns her attention back to the stage, Mohammed's looking straight at her. She can't help but swallow, caught out, but looks right back, never one to back down.

Dragging along, follow in your form

Hung like the pelt of some prey you had worn

Remember me, love, when I'm reborn

As the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn

Amira can feel her face flushing as she narrows her eyes at Mohammed. He just smirks back at her, and finishes the song. The boys clap and cheer so loudly that they draw the attention of some official looking person with a clipboard, who sighs and huffs and splits them up. David and Matteo grab Amira to head towards the back and David turns on the way to yell some more compliments towards the stage. As they walk, David hums, "You know, Hozier is a man that I'm sure you would agree is an exception to the general rule of male shittiness."

Matteo snorts, mutters, "fucking Hozier…" but David carries on. "He doesn't write boring love songs. He doesn't get intimidated by confident women. To be honest, he loves a strong and terrifying woman-"

Matteo interjects to say, "It's one of those 'choke m-'" but thankfully gets interrupted by David clapping a hand over his mouth before Amira needs to bleach her entire brain and soul.

David sighs and hands Matteo a box of string lights that are supposed to go up somewhere. Matteo takes them with a wink and walks back into the event room. David shrugs, looking at Amira. "Anyways, Mo's got a good voice, right? I keep telling him, but he acts like it's no big deal."

Amira immediately feels suspicious. "How do you all know each other?"

"Huh? Oh, Jonas met him at some kind of open mic, jam thing. I don't really know. And then Jonas and Matteo, you know. We went to one of Jonas' gigs and Mohammed was there." David gestures in an encompassing way, like he's trying to say the rest is history.

- - - - -

The girls all arrive and 'ooh and ah' over how magical the location looks. Amira has to admit that it's nice, even if she's slightly on edge due to how often she keeps bumping into Mohammed while turning a corner. Sam happens to be next to her one of these times and she sighs and goes, "He's so charming. How is he so charming?!" Amira sighs and switches subjects by asking about Sam's nephew, which is honestly the most effective subject change ever. She even gets adorable baby photos out of it.

Later on she's walking from the bar with Mia, when Jonas announces a new song and Amira spots Mohammed by the stage. Based on earlier, she really can't handle another song so she slips away into the back garden. She can see Mia shrugging and looking questioningly at her through the large open doors, but she plants her feet and starts up a conversation with a girl she knows from her European History class. A few minutes later, Mia appears at her side, looking like the cat that got the cream. Amira tries to drag the conversation out, but she and this girl, Anna?, really don't have much in common so she leaves shortly after. Mia's arms are crossed, shit-eating red lipped grin and all.

"How's it going with Mohammed?" she asks.

Amira huffs, assuring Mia that there is nothing going, but she'll apologise when she gets a moment, thank you very much. Of course this is when Amira's Maghrib alarm goes off. Mia looks like she wants to protest, but in the end she realises she can't really argue with it so she just gives Amira her unimpressed tm look when Amira starts backing away, to find somewhere to pray. She was planning to scout out a good location while helping to set up earlier, but Mohammed had ruined those plans for her by distracting her with his face and voice. She asks one of the bartenders and gets led to the staff room, which has an adjacent but tiny bathroom. She's honestly had to settle for worse, even if the staff room could really use a lockable door. She decides to just hurry, and hope no one interrupts her.

Afterwards, she feels centred and calm, like always. She touches up her makeup, and quickly checks her phone. Sam's sent multiple messages to the group chat, the most recent being:

omg how sexy is mohammed's singing voice?! how is he so charming???????

Amira pockets her phone as she opens the door, but hits something. She pauses for a second and tries again. This time the door opens smoothly. Standing on the other side, running a hand through his stupid hair, is Mohammed.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "I was heading to the bathroom and one of the bartenders was about to head in, so I-" He waves a hand at the door.

"Oh," Amira can't help but feel stunned, because she definitely doesn't deserve that level of consideration from him of all people. They stand in a slightly awkward silence, Amira looking everywhere except at Mohammed. She realises she's being a bit childish about it so she squares up, clears her throat. "Hey, listen, I'm sorry about my behaviour." She dares a glance up at Mohammed's face. He looks annoyingly smug, arms crossed over his chest. He waits her out, smirking. "I perhaps judged you a bit early. And harshly. It's.. It doesn't happen ever, really, but, I guess… I was wrong. Sorry."

Mohammed nods slowly, looking off to the side. "No harm done. So, listen-"

The door separating the club space from the staff space slams open and a frazzled bartender startles at the sight of them, looks confused. Amira takes this as a perfect opportunity, explaining herself, "Oh, sorry, I was just praying, you know," while gesturing at the locker room behind her and also her head. When the bartender nods, still confused, Amira hurries out to find the girls.

- - - - -

Amira's back at her parents' house for a weeknight dinner. She's helping set the table because her parents don't want her near the food, but she also does not want to sit and chat at the table since Essam's started the night by badgering her about Mohammed in front of their mother.

"Seen Mohammed any more?" Essam asks with a grin when Omar arrives. Amira sends him a look that could kill from across the table. Her dad perks up, "Oh, Mohammed's a good kid. You know Mohammed, Amira?"

Amira sighs, "Yeah, we have a class together, and some friends in common."

At this, Omar looks thoughtful. "You'd like Mohammed," he says, as if it's only just occurring to him, as if the gears are starting to turn.

Her dad latches onto this idea, "Yeah, that's a good point! You're very similar, Amira, stubborn but very smart." He pats her on the shoulder as he walks back into the kitchen to help their mother with the cooking.

When Amira walks back with a stack of plates, Essam's gleefully feeding Omar blackmail material about how Amira had unfairly snapped at poor Mohammed in front of everyone. "I was planning to try and convince them to date but Amira hates him."

"Hä? What did he do?"

"Thanks, Essam," Amira sighs, "He didn't do anything, he was just arguing in favour of stupid shit, and-"

"Like what?"

"Just… He keeps advocating for inclusive events in the islamic society. Having all our events open for everyone even though that always means a whole bunch of people appear and demand us to hold them by the hand and explain every single thing that's going on. Every single event. I'm sick and tired of having to educate ignorant white Germans who can't just google it. That's not why I joined the islamic society."

Omar hums. "Mohammed grew up in Syria, you know," he points out. "He didn't have to grow up in a country full of Almans who know nothing about islam and require hand-holding. So, maybe he just has a higher tolerance for that than we do?"

It's a fully reasonable argument, which Amira kind of hates. She hasn't really ever asked Mohammed anything, barely even spoken to him except to argue with him or be hostile to him. "Yeah, okay, sure. We're just not compatible people, that's all." Essam snorts. "Listen, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm not going to ever date a guy who isn't a proper muslim, so that's that. Leave it."

They both look confused. "What do you mean 'not compatible'? And why would you think Mohammed's not religious? He's in the islamic society, isn't he?"

Amira shrugs, "He doesn't pray? He's- I don't know, Essam said-"

"I was surprised he was on the committee, because he's been struggling. But what even is a proper muslim, Amira?" Essam asks, with a grimace. "If Mohammed isn't then I've barely been one lately either, but you don't hate me for it?!"

"No, of course I don't hate you."

"You said my crisis was valid, and I can assure you that Mohammed's was valid, too. Is this why you snapped at him?"

Amira groans, "I don't hate him… I just. Lost my temper, I don't know why. It wasn't like I snapped on purpose. He just aggravates me. He just keeps aggravating me for no good reason." She realises she's been gesturing pretty aggressively, so she drops her shoulders and lets her hands fall to her side. "What do you want me to say?"

"Oh my god, you like him."

- - - - -

Of course, it all comes to a head at Omar and Nour's Henna night. The girls have all been invited and some of the boys (specifically Jonas and Carlos). Amira had tried to convince her brothers that she absolutely did not have any feelings for Mohammed, but it seemed as if she was not very convincing. At least, she managed to get them both to agree to leave her alone and definitely not mention anything about it to the guy in question. And Amira knows they wouldn't dare cross her. During the night she has managed to mostly avoid the aunties and uncles that have been giving her far too wide smiles all night, and she's managed to duck out of several conversations before she had anyone ask her when's your turn, habibi and ended up snapping at anyone. She's chatting to Jonas and Hanna in a decently secluded corner, teaching Jonas the accurate pronunciation of all the sweets he's eating. He's shockingly good at it, and he's really pleased about that fact.

Then, there's a tap on her shoulder. Hanna's eyes widen, and she gently but firmly drags Jonas away. Amira feels this sense of doom impending, but she's also got a few hardcore butterflies appearing in the depths of her stomach. She turns, and there's Mohammed. He's got a piece of baklava in the palm of his upturned hand and he grins at her.

"Frau Bundeskanzlerin," he mutters, doing a really douche-y bow. Amira can't help but laugh, and glances around the room. God, everyone can see this, Amira thinks, even though realistically no one is looking in their direction, but instead talking to the future bride and groom.

"What's your deal?" is what comes out of her mouth.

Mohammed snorts, smile faltering just a little, "my deal?"

"It's really not cute to be flirting with a girl if you're not even fucking religious, you know. Do you know how fucking impossible and rare it is to even have decent interactions with men as a hijabi without them wanting to save or objectify you? It's literally not something that happens. I am sick and tired-"

"Wow," Mohammed mutters, though grinning, popping the piece of baklava he was supposedly presenting Amira with into his mouth and chewing. "What have I done to deserve this utter annihilation?"

"What have you done? You're impossible to read. You're debating in the islamic society one day, then you're not a practicing muslim, then a day later you're in the mosque. What's your deal?"

Mohammed rolls his eyes, crosses his arms in front of his chest. "I'll hold a full length lecture on my relationship with islam in the morning, if you want, but as for what my deal is, I've been trying to ask you out on a date." He shrugs one shoulder, like it's obvious.

Amira splutters in surprise. "You've…. what?"

"It's not my fault you're distracting. You know, you're the one who's impossible. I've literally been in love with you since you gave me that stink eye in ISOC. I think you're amazing even though you're infuriating and judgemental as hell."

"Hmm, we'll agree to disagree."

Mohammed bursts out laughing, "What? No, we definitely won't! Come on!"

Amira notices, from the corner of her eye, that a few aunties and girls she knows from elementary school are taking an interest in them and then she realises how close they've drifted during their conversation. "Shit, people are looking at us."

Mohammed hums, looks around. He shrugs, takes a demonstrative step back. "There we go, much more appropriate."

Amira rolls her eyes, cheeks aching from smiling. "So, your method of flirting is just being oppositional, then?"

"Might be… It worked, though, right?" Amira snorts. "Maybe I should've been more direct and asked for an audience through your secretary?"

It shouldn't make Amira giggle, because it's not really funny, but she still giggles like a schoolgirl she definitely is not. "Hey, Mohammed?"

"Yes?"

"Do you want to go out with me?"

Mohammed bursts out laughing, "I'd love to."

[arcaneranger]

Final Thoughts - O Maidens in Your Savage Season

Mari Okada’s finest work to date, potentially her magnum opus, and the most complete treatise on teenage sexuality I’ve seen in the medium to date. (Eat your heart out, Darling in the FRANXX.)

Here we go with a very heavy show about which I have thoughts. Very rarely is an adult able to connect with the teenage experience in such an intimate way as Okada has managed with the cast of this show, and it’s the most honest depiction I’ve ever seen. The beautifully developed and nuanced cast, in-universe a group of friends experiencing their “Spring Awakening” together in very different ways, are a vertical slice of the diverging paths that people (particularly women) take to get to a point in their lives of being comfortable with sexuality. I’m going to invoke some spoilers here, but only because I really want to do a deep dive on this in order to really do it justice.

Starting with the simplest one, we have “I’ve never thought about it, but now that I am, there’s this guy...”, our main character Kazusa, who starts the series off with a bang by encountering her best (male) friend next door masturbating in his bedroom, and is forced all at once to process the evolution of her childhood friend Izumi, from kid she grew up with, into a man with physical interest in women, even if he doesn’t really have that part figured out for himself yet. Izumi, for his part, doesn’t quite know enough about his own body to know that a physical reaction isn’t necessarily an emotional one, and spends the story grappling with what it means that he gets turned on by a girl who isn’t his girlfriend, even if he is firmly committed not to cheat on her. These two are only the beginnings of realistically-confused high schoolers who don’t understand their own bodies (and the subtext of Japan’s woefully inadequate sexual education practices).

Second, we have “trying very hard not to think about it, to the point of shunning men entirely in order to remain pure”, our Literature Club president Sonozaki is utterly ashamed of herself every time physical intimacy so much as crosses her mind, demonstrating a very firmly-rooted Madonna-whore complex that is fairly easy to understand once we see her strict parents for the first time. Outside influences, particularly family ones, can affect the way a person thinks in a very toxic and negative way, and we can tell right from the beginning that her internal (and then external) judgment and slut-shaming of her more extroverted classmates is not doing her any favors and is actively keeping her from being able to make friends. It takes a boy so innocent that he stays away from stimulating thoughts while he’s around her (because he wants to take it slow) and really put in the effort to take her walls down to finally get her to admit that she’s trapped herself in her own head.

Third, Momo, is in a particularly complicated spot as her feelings don’t really start materializing until well into the story, because she has the biggest hurdle to clear - the idea that she is not straight, which in Japan, is not particularly welcomed. Her friends are not able to catch onto her inner emotions and end up creating a pile of massive errors in judgment that lead to her nearly having a breakdown because the enigmatic girl she likes keeps talking about how much she wants to have sex with boys, and a series of miscommunications only making her feel like her sexuality is wrong and inappropriate, when the reality is that she just doesn’t have an appropriate target to point it at and basically nobody she can talk to for advice. Ultimately Momo doesn’t see quite as much of a conclusion as the others, which makes sense - not only would it be difficult for her to find closure in the environment she’s in, but her struggle with sexuality is bound to last her much longer than high school,

Said enigmatic girl, Niina, has an even more uncomfortable set of problems - she’s a former child theatre actress who was victimized by her director, a repeat-offender pedophile, and is now fighting mentally against the trauma that he inflicted on her. Her feelings are a crazy cocktail of spite towards him for putting her in a compromised position - even if he didn’t rape her - and disappointment that he doesn’t see her as interesting enough to pursue any longer, because she’s grown into “womanhood”, and she’s terrified of the idea that nobody will ever love her the way she imagines he did. The director coerces her into kindling a teenage romance in order for her to vent her emotions, and that manifests as a sexual attraction towards Izumi, a feeling she knows she shouldn’t have but can’t help but want to act on, getting herself tangled up by insisting that one can fully separate emotion and sex when she clearly isn’t able to do so herself. Her story finally culminates in her moving on from her past when she truly begins to understand just how badly her former director really hurt her.

And, most complicated and delicate of all, the girl who wants to badly to be sexually mature that she pursues an inappropriate relationship with an older man in a position of power over her. While it’s certainly not a stretch to say that Hongo’s story is an exaggeration, it’s not as much of one as we would hope, and indeed her insistence forces her teacher - a man with whom she had been anonymously roleplaying online before they discovered each other’s identities - to essentially play chicken with her in order to get it through her head that she’s not as much of an adult as she thinks she is. I want to commend Okada here for the incredibly risky balancing act she took on with this storyline, as we do understand the entire time that Milo-sensei is not willing (or able) to actually engage with his student, despite how far he’s willing to go to demonstrate the reality of the situation Hongo is pursuing. It’s uncomfortable to watch, and that’s a deliberate decision on the part of the creator of the show; she’s going so far to pursue her idea of what sex looks like that she isn’t properly registering the reality of the situation and the lasting damage she could potentially do to both of them.

All of these storylines collide in a nine-car pileup that finally forces the cast to communicate what they’ve learned about themselves with each other in a way that seems a little bit forced in the context of the story - they essentially wind up playing Symbolism: The Game - but the scene that comes out of it works well enough to salvage the situation and get most everybody on the track towards putting their hangups behind them that we’re able to end on a note of hope for the future of these characters after a long build-up of complete adolescent confusion, a violent chemical reaction that’s caused them all to spiral out of control and make rash decisions, a very Savage Season indeed.

Okada never seems to take quite the direction you expect towards her thematic conclusions, and even sometimes doesn’t present them at all when it’s appropriate - these kids are, well, kids, and they have a long walk ahead of them on this particular road - but they’ve been handled with so much care and verisimilitude so far that you can expect them to be okay someday in the future. These teens were a lot of us when we were younger, and they’re a lot of kids that are out there today - and I hope that they manage to figure things out, too.

9/10.

[bionic-buckyb]

When It Rains: Part 3

A Thor x Reader / Soulmate Series

Master List

⚡ You’ve been dreaming of the same voice, the same man, for as long as you can remember. You never thought that he could be real, let alone that he was the God of Thunder, your soulmate, and the key to unlocking a mysterious power within you; a power that could be used to save Thor’s homeland of Asgard, or, in the wrong hands, to destroy it.

A/N: Yanno, it’s a beautiful thing, when you’re on a writing roll with new ideas and actual AMBITION to write. I hope you’re riding on this high with me, and enjoying this series. Again, this series is (loosely) based off the song Dreams by Fleetwood Mac. Thank you to my bestie @howlingbarnes for reading this over and being so supportive with all my ideas. I love you! Your asks, likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated (although if you could reblog to get it out there, i’d appreciate it the most)! Let me know what you think! ♥

Word Count: 2,022

Warnings: - none, that i can think of. - maybe language?

Tags: (at the end)

*gifs are not mine. (credit: [ x ] )

Your mind snapped back to consciousness, but your eyes remained closed. There were muffled voices around you at first, but they became clearer as your brain slowly awakened itself fully. You half expected all of this to be another dream, that you’d never actually met Thor and your mind had finally cracked, fabricating this entire scenario. But after a few moments, the voices started to get louder and closer…

“Well, if she really is in danger like you say, you obviously did the right thing bringing her here…” the voice you recognized as Banner said, his voice the softest of them all. Clearly, the most level headed.

“Is your tower still the safest place on the planet, Stark?”

There was his voice again. Thor. It wasn’t a dream. He was real, and he was still around you. You could physically feel him in the atmosphere, almost like an electric energy coursing through your veins. His tone sounded concerned, but stern.

You kept your eyes closed and let them continue, eager to hear what they had to say.

“You know we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t…”

Oh yeah Stark. Tony fucking Stark.

“As I’ve told each of you before, she is in danger, and I will do whatever I have to, to keep her safe,” Thor said, slapping his hand on the table. It made a loud cracking sound. “With or without any of your help…”

“Thor,” Banner said gently, and you could picture him putting his hand on Thor’s large shoulder. “We’re here to help you in anyway we can, you know that. That includes helping her.”

“Does she have any say in all of this?” Tony questioned, his shoes clicking on the floor as he paced in circles around you. “Has anyone thought to ask her what she thinks?”

“She doesn’t know anything,” Thor said quietly, and between his teeth. “I haven’t had the chance to tell her, and I’d prefer you all to keep your mouths shut until I say so.”

“She’s awake…” a soft female voice said from across the room. She was the farthest away from the group, and your cover had been blown. You could feel every body in the room turn towards you, and you fluttered your eyes open. Thor was by your side in an instant. He helped you to sit up, but your heart was racing at the pace of a hummingbird’s wing.

“Y/N,” Thor said your name tenderly, his strong hand gripping your arm. “Thank the gods. Are you alright?”

“I--” you started, before gazing around at the people in the room. Thor, Bruce, and Tony were all still there, but there was someone, or something, watching in the corner. As the unknown being watched you sit up, she gracefully came to kneel beside you. Thor didn’t stop her, so you knew she must be okay. She looked somewhat human, but also had the biggest, blackest eyes you’d ever seen, almost like an insect, complete with two feelers protruding from the top of her forehead, just below her hairline. You didn’t know whether to be terrified or love her. She reached out and touched your forearm, the feelers on her head glowing a bright white as they wriggled. Miraculously, your heart rate calmed.

“Thank you, Mantis,” Thor said gratefully, rubbing his hand along your back in comforting strokes. “She helped me out too,” he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Not so long ago.” Violent shivers rocketed through you at his close proximity, in the best way possible, feeling his breath on your skin.

“She was very anxious,” Mantis said, taking her hand away from your arm. Her movements and speech were so soft and graceful, almost slow. You had never laid eyes on anything like her before. She was beautiful. “I could feel her worry from across the room.”

“T-Thank you,” you stammered, giving her your best smile. Mantis smiled back shyly, and went back to her corner to observe quietly.

“Can we get you anything?” Tony butted in, kneeling down in front of you so that you were eye level. He was dressed in sweatpants and a black tee, not the suits and ties you were used to seeing him in on tv. You tried to focus on his face, but your eyes moved like a magnet to the infamous arc reactor imbedded in his chest. “Coffee, water?”

“Water, please…” you managed to say, your eyes flitting back up to his. You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling cold. Before you could ask, Thor was wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. Tony winked at you, and waved his hand in Banner’s direction. You watched Bruce scramble to the adjacent kitchen, pulling a bottle of water out of the fridge and tossing it to Tony. He caught it with grace, and placed it in your hands. You opened it up and gulped as much of the cold liquid down as you could, before you ran out of breath.

“Breathe, my love…” Thor said softly, his hand still on your shoulder, gently squeezing. Your body shivered again. You weren’t used to him speaking so close to you. The vibrations in his voice bouncing against you like a beautiful hum. He had called you his love, and it felt so effortless coming from him, as if he was meant to say it that it didn’t even bother you or freak you out. You could feel yourself starting to grow braver, and more curious. But you were tired; so, so tired.

“I’m… okay,” you spoke, turning around towards Thor. “Just very tired, and… confused.”

Your eyes locked and his lightly freckled face softened; his mouth turning up into a warm smile. He positively radiated warmth in your direction, and you wanted to be as close to him as possible, as soon as possible.

“Uh, Thor,” Tony butted in, putting up a finger. “Your room is still vacant at the end of the hall, if you’d like to take Y/N there for a… much needed nap.” Stark also smiled, followed by a wink in your direction. Thor nodded his thanks, and Tony quickly retreated down the opposite hall on the balls of his feet with Banner at his heels.

“Come, little one,” Thor said, lifting you up under your knees, blanket and all, so effortlessly into his strong arms. You were pressed against his chest, and your head lazily rested on his shoulder. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

The warmth you anticipated coursed through you, like a delicious hum. You closed your eyes, never wanting this feeling of content to go away. You had never felt so safe, so wanted, so loved. What did you do to deserve this? Was this the last dream you’d ever have of the man of your dreams? Was this your mind making it all come to an end?

The short walk down the hall to Thor’s room was a silent one, as you basked in one another’s company. It almost felt like you had known each other forever, and that just being in each other’s presence was enough for you. You were mentally processing the situation, making sure everything was real, and you were pretty sure Thor was doing the same in his own way. Every few seconds he would squeeze your thigh, just to make sure you weren’t smoke and mirrors.

With a quick kick to the door, it swung open and Thor maneuvered inside. He closed it behind him and placed you gently down onto the surprisingly comfortable, and quite large, bed. As he moved about the room, looking for clothes for you to change into, you scanned the room. It was mostly plain, except for one crumpled pencil sketch that was thumb tacked to the farthest wall. Moving slowly off the bed, you walked to it, taking it down and turning it over in your hands. It looked so familiar.

“Asgard,” Thor said, walking up behind you. “My home.”

“It’s beautiful,” you replied, tracing your fingers over the structure of the building you’d seen so many times in your dreams.

“Just like you…” he breathed, tracing a line with his finger from the nape of your neck, to your shoulder. Goosebumps rose on your skin, and you swore you felt an electric current enter your body at his touch. You turned to face him. His eyes were the brightest blue, as he eagerly scanned your face.

“I don’t…. understand why all of this is happening but it feels… right,” you announced abruptly, your brain unable to keep anything in anymore. “L-Like, I was meant to meet you or something… like---”

“We were meant to be together,” he finished your sentence, and your mouth gaped open like a fish out of water. “In whatever way that happens to be.”

“Yes…” you breathed, waiting for him to continue. He didn’t, and you continued to watch each other in silence. You chewed your bottom lip. Thor suddenly stood up, and closed the already small gap between you. He tilted your chin up with this massive index finger, to be sure you were looking at him.

“The light you give off is… maddening,” he whispered, as if he were telling a secret; his hand moving from your shoulder to your wrist. “I’m drawn to it - like moth to flame. It’s the light I’ve been looking for my entire existence. Your aura is pure, enticing, and mine.”

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. In a situation like this, one might be creeped out. But you were just as attracted to him as he was to you, and it was almost like there was a polar magnet between you, keeping you apart.

“Thor,” you breathed. His name leaving your lips made you quiver. “How old are you?”

“Last time I counted, I’m 1500 years old.”

You inhaled sharply. He was a god after all. You should have expected this.

“So... “ you stopped, swallowing again. “You’ve been waiting all that time… for me?”

“Absolutely.”

“But, how do you know?”

“When I was first born, my father told me that my one true love would radiate the brightest light; a light that couldn’t be stifled. She would be strong, beautiful, and live on Midgard.”

“Midgard?” you questioned.

“Earth, sorry.”

“Oh…” you whispered, putting your hand to your mouth; a nervous tick. “But I’m not nearly your age and there’s nothing special at all about me. Shouldn’t a god be with, someone more worthy?”

Thor’s features changed, his brow furrowing in annoyance.

“You are more than worthy, Y/N. You are my sun and stars. If you do not love me as I love you, I will accept that. But that doesn’t mean I won’t protect you until my last breath leaves my body.”

“You… love me?” you asked meekly, unsure of what you’d heard.

For the first time since you’d met Thor, he looked shy. You swore a pink tint to his cheeks appeared, as he briefly broke eye contact with you. He may have been the god of thunder, but he clearly had human emotions.

“As of now, that is not important. You are important. Your safety is important. Besides, just because your light shines brighter than the sun, doesn’t mean you’re my soulmate.”

It was the first time the word had been spoken aloud, even though it played in the back of your subconscious like a broken record.

“So, besides the other stuff you said before, about what your father told you, what other qualifications would your… soulmate have?”

“An Asgardian man was who predicted all of this for me, many years ago. He said that my soulmate would look just as you do, but she would have powers of her own.”

You coughed, choking on your own spit.

“And what type of powers would she have?” you asked on baited breath.

“Through her dreams she could see my past, present, and future. In essence, we are always connected.”

You clutched the table next to you, trying to stay steady.

“Thor…” you said slowly, looking into his chaotic blue eyes. “I have something I need to tell you.”

“I think that there’s something we both need to discuss, little one.” 

@captainrogerss  @theashhole @sebbytrash @captain-rogers-beard @avengerofyourheart @katalina-from-hellbound @captainradicalpassion @qoedenmcgarden @thefallenbibliophilequote @daphne-fandom-writing @writingthingsisdifficult @radrouda @randbrie @elleatrixlestrange @ican-do-this-all-day @mojean13 @bicepbucky @izhetbean @detectiveloki @tomuchmarvel @keshuasd @burningrosepassion @wciaramarvelw @xotaku-baekx @cluelesslycluelessinclouds @simplebvtch @ldyhawkeye @marvelspidey-tomholland  @libbymouse @absentmindeduniverse @jinx-is-fire @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @mizzezm @rain-at-dusk11 @heidimonkey @starry-barnes @inumorph @tchallaholla @sapphire1727 @gracethegeek9902 @the-people-read-marvel-spn @quierdoofthestars @yaya-fella @princess-yuna @aikibriarrose @peterman-parker  @bless-my-demons @xtina2191 @my-blackbird-universe @vgurl18 @the-geeky-engineer @apeshit7x @xxdragonqueenxx @me-a-hopeless-romantic @thehuntress26  @marauder--harder @the-evil-pumpkin @waywardpumpkin @kaffeehauser @amabellau @buckyofthemyscira @2ka-tja2 @queen-maximoff @potterhaven @daylight-saver @alexislsanchez @infinityblogger @alexiamiky2003 @lilith-snappinnecks-demon @talinalani @lavieenlex @http-ilse @systemfailuresunshine @brittanymcsharry @smoothdogsgirl @callme-barnes @tinyfistwarrior @feelmyroarrrr @willieshakesqueer @volvoxrain @alwayshave-faith @metalarmlover @abbessolute @chinupdarling @witchymarvelspacecase @bolo4hagatha @starmission @storiesandgarbage @hcwlingccmmandcs @part-time-patronus @lokikingofasgardslover713 @diinofayce @15shnadaidas @zofty15 @danijimenezv @flyawayprincess @mizzezm @normal-is-overrated-be-crazy @t-skip01 @emergenciesstory  @luanawestposts @ashnicole-xxox @series-obsessed @deargadh @vaisabu

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Tags are closed! I’m sorry! 

Part 4

[atomkrp-blog]

WELCOME TO XAVIER’S, APINYA ”BAMBI” KESSAWAI !

... loading statistics. currently aged twenty, entering first semester of xavier’s in seoul, south korea. decrypting files... mutant has the following records: strength +6, durability +3, agility +8, dexterity +2, intelligence +6. currently, he is classified under tier omega.

BACKGROUND.

bambi was still young when his parents were to be found murdered in the place that should’ve been filled with love, laughter and gentle touches. in his home. instead, the murder left it cold, empty.. haunting. he was 4 though, to be exact on the matter. murdered in a town in thailand for being found as mutants.

murdered by those too scared to face the possibilities of mutants and their powers.

bambi was a lucky child to have gotten out of it, and for that, the only reason he has is because the boy had hidden himself away. closed himself in his closer and waited for days before the police finally ventured upstairs to find the boy shaking, too terrified of coming out to have forced himself to open the door earlier. but they were kind to him, given the circumstances and all. and with no where else to go, bambi was moved from a temporary orphanage to his grandparents house in busan instead.. far from what he knew as home.

the boy wasn’t yet away of his own mutant status yet either, only that it was very obvious his grandparents held no interest in dealing with him at all, mostly just leaving bambi to his own devices and shouting at him whenever he did anything they didn’t like. bambi was never praised, or even handled carefully. just roughly and begrudgingly because they didn’t like him, want him, or even ask to have to deal with him.

but his mutation makes itself known finally during school one day when he’s 9.

the cause of it? well, bambi was no stranger to bullies, but one day when they’re pushing around again and making the already timid boy feel sick to his stomach with fear ( and even worse when they hit him and kick him there too ) - but suddenly none of that matters anymore. suddenly, all bambi can focus on is the searing pain that rips through different parts of his body and grows worse as the seconds tick by. a blood curdling and violent scream resonates through the playground ( which was already enough to make them back off ). but bambi doesn’t remember what happened after that scream, only that he was told of the fact he’d turned into a skeleton and beat up those hurting them. that he’d hurt them enough to have everyone, teachers included, fear him. 

bambi hadn’t even been fully awake for when his skin had frown back or when they’d sent him home either. that had taken hours the first time, and his grandparents had left him in the car because they couldn’t stand the sight or to be around him them.

he didn’t really blame them.

but it’s easy to say that bambi didn’t get to go back to school after that either. instead, he was kept home schooled, and for the most part of everyday bambi was locked up in his room having to do what he was told. his grandfather started to hit him anytime he even thought that bambi’s mutation might show too.. or just when he got angry about it, or scared. he hit the young boy. but it only made it worse; the abuse making the boy partially shift in the process. the skeleton awakening in defence.

bambi’s life continued on like that too, with him having little to no contact with the outside world, and never coming to know what softness or kindness felt like. bambi only knew pain and rough touches.. no sort of love or freedom.

the worst to happen however is when he’s 17.

at that point in his life, bambi was fairly well educated. he’d taught himself everything he needed to know because no one else would ( they were too scared of him whenever they found out about the fact he was a mutant ). bambi had even taken to trying to control his mutation as well, just a little, as if to bargain with it because a lot of the time bambi felt like it controlled him.. that there were two people inside him fighting for dominance, and more often than not, bambi would lose. but he was getting there slowly, even if he was still scared of himself just like everyone else.

but it’s at a time just after his grandmother had passed– a year or so after that. his grandfather had been getting increasingly more angry and aggressive towards him, to a point where he was locked up for days without food or being let out at all.. usually he’s at least let out a little– but the man comes into his room finally, only to see bambi partially shifted, face ripped to reveal the skeletal features, and he flips out on him instead of the shouting he usually does to him.

bambi can’t exactly say what happened, only that he can remember hands having been around his throat choking him whilst screaming at him to stop it and to turn it back. other foul words included in the mix. that he should be a human instead of a freak like his parents were. that’s when bambi had black out, woken up somewhere entirely different instead.. not really sure where that was too. but he’d find that out within the next few months instead when he’s taken in by a couple who also had a mutant daughter as well as a few other children.

the couple had found him within an alleyway when he was regrowing his skin, and they’d brought him home with them. it had helped that their daughter was a memory reader, anyway, and a fairly good one at that too. she’d managed to weave through bambi’s mind to see everything that he’d been through, and that alone had been enough to solidify the family taking him in as their own.

that was the first time that bambi had ever seen kindness in those years. years since his parents had died, love and softness had abandoned him. but here, no one raises their voice at him, and if he flinched then they worked around it and tried to help him with overcoming it. he was still sick a lot whenver he got scared or panicked, and when he woke up terrified that he was back there again he’d be sick for hours. the same happening whenever he heard something that reminded him of it too, mostly loud noises anyway.. but it became a large worry for a while. after numerous visits to doctors, they were simply told it was something he’d have to grow out of over time, and that too much had happened right now for it to simply stop then and there. it wasn’t a worry, just.. a bad situation.

and so from then, bambi was able to try and start up a life that he’d never been handed before, and even then, the family had managed to help him out with his mutation on top of that too. they could teach him more, even if he was scared of it– but the fact that his newly adoptive family weren’t? well, it made a whole difference in terms of trying to teach him control and understand it better than he did before.

and hell, bambi even managed to start up a youtube channel just a little after he’d turned 18 when they all encourage him to try doing something as a distraction or that he just finds fun. it starts as vlogging then, before it turns to gaming and then streaming as well.. and it’s safe to say that bambi never really expected to be building up so much popularity from it so quickly, given that by the time he’s 20 and getting ready to head off to some new.. mutant school with his sister? well, but that time anyway, he has over a couple million subscribers and a lot of people excited to watch his weekly, sometimes daily, vlogs and his random streams and gaming videos. but he knows why he’s popular too, because people like the fact that he’s.. well he’s like any normal gamer that isn’t entirely good at things and doesn’t understand things as well as others. he’s not the best at his games, and at most he’s below average– people like that. they just like his content and his timid but soft personality.

either way though, the school is a new chapter for bambi. a scary one considering he’s never really thought about meeting new mutants that aren’t his sister, but it would be a good step for him now given that he.. well, bambi needed the extra help.

MUTATION.

skeleton physiology is the ability to turn into a fully functioning and living skeleton. this is done through the process of the skin being shed from the body in an extremely painful manner, and then regrowing itself once more back onto the body; again, in an extremely painful manner.

to explain it with bambi though, is to say that it’s very much a jekyll and hyde situation. his power, the skeleton bambi calls ‘bones’, is what feels like to bambi; it’s own person. like dissociative personality disorder, only his power causes it and it’s essentially bambi and the skeleton fighting for dominance. bambi’s scared of the skeleton, but they’ve grown to a point where bambi knows now the skeleton is just trying to protect him and sometimes teach him, it’s why bambi is awake more whilst shifted.

STRENGTHS.

the easiest and most associated is that he can turn into a complete skeleton form, lacking all physical weakness that a human deals with, as well as the inability to feel pain and temperature changes, and will not be harmed. this is only when in his skeleton form, and although he can use this ability to heal his skin when regrowing, it doesn’t mean that he can heal himself at will. to heal his skin, he must turn into a full skeleton and then reform the skin, which in turn heals any scars too in the process.

he can partially shift, and that takes the form of mostly just his face/neck, and hands shifting to a more skeletal form, but not completely. it’s hard to describe, so the best way to describe it would be this. there are no abilities associated with this specific ability, only that it is more an intimidation tactic, and it isn’t hard for him to do, it’s not as hard to shed the skin, or as painful - the only flaw is that he can’t control it and it’s the skeleton inside him that usually makes him do it.

whilst in skeleton form, his stamina and speed increase due to his lightness, making him move more effortlessly and gracefully. it makes it easier for him to hide and act quicker, his reflexes being enhanced. he becomes more agile all around, so he is harder to catch and harder to see.

it’s almost like another personality, another adaption of his power being apathy ability in which he has the ability to suppress his emotions until he is no longer feeling anything. this removes feelings of guilt, remorse and moral rights. the thing with this though is that bambi and the skeleton are like two different people, and the skeleton is the apathetic one that forces him to feel nothing or tries to take over and turn him into the skeleton and bambi has a hard time trying to suppress him; basically like his ability is trying to control him.

WEAKNESSES.

he cannot maintain the skeletal form for lengthy amounts of time, and the longest that he can keep it up is roughly five or six hours total. at first, he could only keep it up an hour or so, but over the years since it’s development it’s been getting longer. so he can keep it up to that length, however exceeding it usually causes him to pass out before he has even thought about shifting back.

a little linked to the point above, shifting back is not a quick process as it does involve his muscles, organs, skin, everything, regrowing and reforming, and the process is not quick and cannot be sped up. if his energy isn’t depleted, it can take an hour ( but it’s rare for that), but more often than not it can take anywhere between five to ten hours. more often than not he will be unconscious for this process. whenever his energy is completely spent though, it can take longer then ten hours to let himself go back to normal - and the process is extremely painful, as is shifting into a skeleton too.

it is a very painful process, both shifting and regrowing skin as anyone can imagine. shifting involves the shedding of said skin, and although he’s grown to bare it and the process has gotten a little faster now that he’s training a little, it still hurts an awful lot. regrowing his skin, considering it takes a longer time, is so much more painful and it is why he’s normally unconscious because when he is conscious during it, he’s in utter agony.

sometimes his memory can be skewed when he wakes up again, mostly because sometimes it can all blur together from when he’s shifted since most of the time he isn’t in control of it, and the skeleton kind of takes over him.

he cannot speak whilst in skeletal form, usually relying on gesturing, motioning, or sign language for those that can understand it. but he can hear, and see, perfectly fine.

he is weak to bone manipulation and necromancy because this can overpower him when he is in a weaker form, but he can fight back against it if he isn’t too tired out already.

powerful blows can sometimes cause his bones to break apart, and although he can put himself back together, it can take a little bit and until then he’s a lot weaker and more vulnerable, and it’s just a hassle really.