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astermacguffin · 3 years ago

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What if the Mark of Cain manifests differently when it's imprisoning God and not the Darkness? If the Darkness makes the Mark bearer go insane with unbridled want for destruction, then what does sealing God make you do?

An obsessive desire for creation? Creation to the point of corruption? (Think of the Shimmer from the film Annihilation. Continuous reproduction to the point of begetting alien, cancer-like entities. A refracted, distorted notion of creation.)

Okay, so canon divergence from The Trap. They successfully seal away Chuck, then Castiel bears the Mark. (Jack won't be back until later episodes, so he's not here yet.)

At first, they think he's fine. Cas says he's not feeling any bloodlust just yet. (He does feel a certain itch under his skin. Not a desire to murder, but a desire to do...something. He doesn't tell this to anyone.)

His grace is getting stronger, almost archangel-like (if not more). It's incredibly helpful for hunts, and Cas is happy to feel his wings healthy again after a long time. Sam is happy for him, but Dean is suspicious of things (especially since he's a previous Mark bearer).

After a while, Cas starts feeling...burdened, almost bloated by grace. (After all, he does have access to an infinite supply of it.) He needs to have an outlet for it.

Cas tells them so and Sam suggests healing people. Dean gives the green light on the condition that he remains invisible and he doesn't go Godstiel on them again.

It's a great outlet, and for the first few weeks they start feeling normal again. But unfortunately, healing stops being enough to relieve Cas of his excess grace anymore. The mass healings start to pile up all across the globe and it catches everyone's attention. Some think it's a blessed miracle, some think it's a sign of the end times. They make him slow down on the healings after that.

Without an outlet, however, Cas starts feeling antsy and pained. They brainstorm on possible alternatives. Cas suggests going to Heaven and saving it from collapse by healing his brethren's wings and creating more angels out of consenting souls in Heaven.

He explains Heaven's endangered and dwindling numbers. Sam agrees that it would hit two birds in one stone: relieve Cas from excess grace and prevent the extinction of angels. Dean doesn't like the idea of more winged dicks so he shoots down the idea. Eileen says that since Cas is the one in pain, he should be the one to decide.

Ultimately, Cas defers to Dean's judgment (as always). Sam protests, arguing that he can't just shoulder that pain. Cas replies: "I've suffered worse, Sam."

Cas doesn't complain about the pain for about a week, so for a while, everyone believes him when he said he can shoulder the pain. One day, Dean finds him outside the bunker, groaning in pain as he bleeds himself out, his grace pouring into the ground and sprouting plants. Dean sees this and is finally convinced to allow Cas to make more angels.

What follows then is a series of escalating events:

While Sam and Eileen are practicing their witchcraft for spell they need in a hunt, Cas suggests to enhance Sam's physical and magical abilities using his grace. "It will make the process faster and safer," he reasons. He agrees, but Dean eyes this suspiciously.

During one of their hunts, they encounter a young and freshly-turned vampire. The boy begs them not to kill him, and Cas gives him a proposal. "Promise not to feed on humans ever again and I shall cure you of your hungers and your pains. Pledge your allegiance to me and you shall never be afraid of yourself ever again." The boy agrees, and before Dean could even protest, Cas slices his palm and feeds the vampire his grace.

They argue about the grace-feeding in the Impala. Dean notices Sam's pointed lack of complaints and figures it out. "You're in on this, aren't you? How long has Cas been doing this? He's going Michael behind our backs and you're letting him?"

Sam argues that it's different because Cas isn't making super monsters; he's making them less "monstrous" (whatever that means). Sam's obsession with his own "purity" is key to understanding him here.

One time, Dean catches Cas in his "garden" ("forest" seems more apt with how lush the greens already are) creating butterflies and bees out of thin air using his grace alone.

Reports of the miraculously healed people suddenly gaining new abilities like increased strength, heightened senses, and prophecy start popping up. Some are experiencing phantom limbs, talking about their sprouting "wings."

Sam is becoming addicted to Cas' grace to the point that he willingly lets himself be hurt in hunts just so Cas can cure him. Dean confronts him about this, but Sam just argues that he's "never felt this pure before." Eileenn shares the same concern as Dean.

Hunts are becoming less frequent the more monsters are being "cleansed" by Cas. The world is becoming disconcertingly quiet.

Cas' "garden" is starting to emit this strange aura. The plants and creatures growing inside it are starting to look more...alien.

One of the original angels goes to Dean and tells him of Heaven's affairs. The Host is stable again, but the angels he created are...not exactly angels. They're graced up and they sustain Heaven, but their true forms are "horrifying and incomprehensible, even to an angel." The angel adds that more than 60% of Earth's creatures have already been touched by Cas' grace.

The final nail in the coffin is when Dean catches Cas in the garden fiddling with his angel blade. It's emitting a strange glow, vibrating a subtle hum and looking as if it's liquid, flowing and distorting here and there.

Dean asks him what he's holding. "Oh, this?" Cas responds. "This is the Last Blade. Last, not in terms of time but in concept, for no other blade shall ever compare to it. The spark of creation. Fiat lux."

Dean's heart sinks. Of course. The First and the Last, Alpha and Omega. "Cas...the Mark, I think i-it's scrambling your brain, man."

"I know," he replies, eyes wet and apologetic. It's a small moment of lucidity amidst weeks and months of...whatever that was.

"Okay, okay, so you're still you, that's... that's good. Okay." Dean doesn't know how to approach this. Give him a fight and he'll know what to do, but this? Watching his best friend, the love of his life, be distorted into something incomprehensible? Yeah, this is totally beyond him.

"You know, I used to hate Chuck," Cas says. "How could the Father of All Creation be this angry, petulant child? But," he continues, "knowing what I know now, it's either regressing into a petty child or being reduced to insanity."

"Cas...what are you talking about, man?"

"No mind should bear this burden, Dean. No matter how infinite they are," he says, voice trembling in exhaustion.

(more below the cut)

He continues. "The awareness of everything is the awareness of nothing at all. Imagine perceiving every possible piece of information about the world all at once. Seeing light in all its forms all at once: ultraviolet, infrared, etc. Sensing all the neutrinos zip by, sensing gravitational waves, sensing the slighest bit of seismic activity."

Dean doesn't know how to respond, so he lets him go on.

"Knowledge can only ever be a slice of the Totality of Truth. Truth is absolute chaos, and Knowledge is the partial ordering of this chaos. One can sanely approach Truth only through organized paritions of Totality. Why do you think Chuck is so obsessed with stories? Stories are linear and finite; they're sensible snippets of the endless sea of possible worlds."

"So, what? Are you trying to—"

"I'm not trying to justify Chuck's actions, Dean," he interrupts. "I just want to contextualize them. Chuck's simplistic and repetitive narratives are what they are: manifestations of a chaotic Totality, gone insane trying to understand itself. Looking for simple things to hold on to."

Cas takes a deep breath. He speaks with a shaky voice. "I'm barely holding myself together, Dean. I can feel the universe beneath my skin."

He doesn't know what possesses him to ask, but he does it anyway. "What are you holding on to?"

Cas smiles at that. "You."

They stare at each other for a while, frozen where they stand. Cas, with unrestrained affection in his face. Dean, struck by shock and indecision. It's Cas who first breaks the silence.

"I think we both know what needs to be done, while I'm still lucid enough." Cas slices his palm and lets his blood drip down the soil. He then thrusts the Last Blade into the ground, lifting it when the soil glows.

Dean stared in awe as the ground erupts and a familiar shape rises from the hollow. "Is that.."

"The Ma'Lak box, yes. I also enhanced it with the Blade to be able to house things as powerful as me."

"Cas, wait, maybe we can think of another way to—"

"Dean," he says, calmly. "You know there's no other way. I wouldn't ask this of you if there was."

In any other scenario, Dean would've kept arguing, but even he knows that they're running out of time. Sam's grace addiction is getting worse and all the creatures touched by Cas' grace are slowly mutating into eldritch horrors. Dean offers a shaky nod. "Okay."

Tension visibly releases from Cas' body. "Thank you, Dean." He opens the box and enters it with ease. "When you lock this, bury me with the garden's graced soil. Once I'm under, my influence over the world should dampen."

Dean gives a wordless nod. For a while, they just stared at each other, Cas lying down and Dean trying to memorize every inch of his face while he can.

Cas presses his hand into Dean's left shoulder where his mark used to dwell. "My untainted grace," he whisper gently. "Some of it is still inside you. That's probably why you're not as affected by me."

Dean wants to say, I'll always be affected by you, but he holds himself back.

He takes his hand back, a bloody handprint now on Dean's jacket. "I love you, Dean," he says, breathless.

"Cas..."

"I probably would've built up to that if we had more time but," he makes a surprised laugh, "I am, as you would say, already 'losing my marbles', so."

The air quotes would've been funny and endearing in any other scenario, but it just makes Dean's vision blur up with tears.

"Thank you for everything, Dean. I know we've done nothing but repeatedly hurt each other these past few years, but I don't want to spend a deathless eternity with that as my memory of you. I forgive you, even for the things you haven't forgiven yourself for yet. And I'm sorry for everything, especially for ending things like this."

He should probably wipe away his tears to clear his vision, but Dean can do nothing but stare at Cas in awe, in fear, in grief, in reverence. They're both fully crying now.

"Goodbye, Dean."

"Wait, Cas."

Cas looks at him, waiting.

"Can you...can you say it again?"

He doesn't need to clarify what 'it' means. They both know.

With one last mournful smile, Cas says: "I love you, Dean."

And with that, Dean finally gathers all the strength he needs to shut the lid and lock the box. He stares at it for a while, unblinking. He forgot to ask, Can you hear my prayers down there? But it's too late now to ask.

The box automatically lowers itself into the hole it arose from. Now all that's left to do is to cover it again with soil.

Dean doesn't bother with a shovel. He gently buries the box with his hands deep in the soil, some of it getting trapped under his nails. He continues the mindless task, whispering a tireless series of I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I hope you're okay I'm sorry, over and over between his quiet sobs. Cas is quiet inside the box. No screaming or crying. Dean doesn't know if that's better or worse.

When the final clump of soil is pressed into the mound, he suddenly feels it: a visceral shift that echoes throughout the world. The alien glimmer of the garden dims, and the world corrects its axis. Dean screams his agony into the air.

That's how Sam finds him: sprawled over a mound of soil, crying his heart out. Dean doesn't need to say anything: he knows what happened. He pulls his brother off the ground and brings him inside the bunker.

For the first two weeks, Dean cycles through drinking and passing out in various places in the bunker. If he's not wearing the jacket, he's holding it with close to him. Sam gives him a considerable space to grieve while he monitors the world grace problem with Eileen. The grace mutations have significantly dropped since then and everyone's going back to normal.

Unfortunately, that means monsters are getting hungry again. Sam doesn't want to leave his brother alone after going nonverbal with grief and dysfunctional due to alcohol. Eileen assures him that she can handle hunts on their own and that the hunter network that they're building will lessen the workload.

Sam's attempts to sober Dean up finally work, mostly due to the latter having very little strength to protest. Dean remains sober an entire day for the first time in weeks, and all he can think about is: I haven't prayed to Cas in a while. The longing might have reached him, but never a coherent prayer.

The first time he goes out of the bunker in a while, he heads straight to Cas' garden. Sam's glad that he's finally going out because "the sun is good for you" or something, but he's really only here for Cas. He kneels in front of the burial mound (where a patch of an unknown species of flowers is already growing).

The first prayer he says to him in a while is: I love you, Cas. I should've said it while you were still here. Not saying it out loud and just strongly thinking about the words somehow bolsters him to get the words through.

He's crying again, and he knows he's losing coherency. In his mind, he's explaining about his hangups and his regrets and his continuous denial of his own joy, but one constant remains: he's beaming all his love and affection into this prayer.

He's halfway through explaining all the traits that he finds endearing in Cas when suddenly, he feels it like a snap. If the glimmer dimmed when he buried Cas, now it's as if it was never there in the first place. With an unsettling amount of certainty, Dean just knows that Cas is gone. For real, this time.

"C-cas...?" It's the first thing he's said in a while and it sounds rough in his long unused voice.

"CAS! CAS!!! " He's now screaming, ripping away the flowerbed with his bare hands and scratching the soil away. Tears are obstructing his vision, but he has no time to wipe them away. He needs to make sure that is really gone. His hands are bleeding and he doesn't give a damn.

Eventually, Sam comes running towards him. "Dean! Dean, stop!"

He tries to hold his brother back, but Dean just keeps on clawing away soil. "Sammy, Sammy he's gone, he's not there anymore, Sammy I have to see, please, let me see Cas again, I need—" he breaks into sobs again, and like a puppet with its strings cut off, he slumps into Sam.

"Dean, it's okay, it's okay..." he says softly to his shaking brother.

Eventually, when Dean calms down, he looks at the carnage he's done and starts sobbing again. The flowers, his last evidence of Cas being here, are all destroyed. Now Cas truly is gone.

. . .

When Cas first heard Dean's confession prayer, he was overcome with joy. When he realized what that means, however, his stomach suddenly sinks.

He hears before he sees the Empty arrive, slithering like black goo.

"Wow, were you excited enough for eternal slumber that you wanted a preview?" The Shadow teases in Meg's voice.

At first, he was dreading the Empty, but now that he thinks of it, it's actually the perfect prison for him: a vast, endless nothingness for him to fill with his creations.

And if Jack wasn't in Heaven, that only means that he's in the Empty, and he can't wait to see his son again. Even when blinded by the madness of the universe, he can never forget the joy of being a father.

"Yes," he replies, "I'm actually glad you're here now."

. . .

Somewhere around the globe, Billie drops Jack back.

"Don't worry, kid. You'l reunite with your father very soon."

(to be continued)

#spn #destiel #supernatural #aster writes #destiel fic #long post #im totally obsessed with moc!cas #moc!cas

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ereawrites · 4 years ago

Text

Dick Grayson x Reader - Mania

this was requested by: anon

word count: 10.5k / rating explicit

a/n: sex pollen so auto dubcon (?), but both reader and dick are affected so idk

taglist: @daddyissuesmademe @idkmanicantenglish

It's your fault, really. You should never have got involved in the first place, but the temptation was just too great to resist. How could you pass up the opportunity to investigate Poison Ivy's pollen? This was the first decent sample any of you had ever managed to get - even Bruce, though you suspect there have been a few times he's managed to get up close and personal with the pollen - and normally Tim would handle it, but he's away on business with Bruce, and Damian's too young to deal with intensive research, and Jason just can't bring himself to care. So, that left Dick, and you could've left it at that. You should have. Then again, Tim did text you to recommend that you helped Dick: actually, you would never have left your room if it hadn't been for his intervention. It's Tim's fault.

The thing is, everything was fine at first; you've, perhaps, been harbouring the slightest crush on Dick for a while now, and it's always nice to spend time with him. He's fun to be around, even if his classic charm sometimes borders on teasing flirtation, and he's got such an incredible mind. You forget that, at times - he has a bad habit of putting himself down as the 'kind one' of the family, the emotional support or the comic relief, and he forgets to let himself be brilliant, too. He doesn't realise you've noticed that. Or maybe he does, but he doesn't say anything, and you've happily spent the past two hours studying Ivy's pollen together.

"It's definitely pheromonal, but I've never seen a chemical composition like this before-", you say, eyes glued to the computer screen. Dick is leaning over the back of your chair, one hand on your shoulder and one hand on the desk beside you, and you shouldn't feel as tense as you do. "-look, this section doesn't occur naturally in any species we've seen. She's synthesising these pheromones somehow, it's not like she's injecting them, but I just - I don't get how."

He pushes off from the desk, grabs the back of your chair, and spins you to face him with a half-smile. "I hate to break your train of thought, but I think we need a biochem specialist.", he says, and you suddenly notice how tired he looks: his eyes are still vibrant, warm, but exhausted. "We've done as much as we can on this, right? No shame in calling in the big guns."

"Tim?", you reply, knowingly, relishing in the way Dick's smile grows into a full grin. He's still gripping the edges of your chair, effectively caging you in: you are not looking at his arms, and you can be certain of this because you are looking very, very intently at his face.

"Having a genius brother has its perks, I know. I'll call him now. It's late in Tokyo - he won't be in a meeting, he'll probably just be awake in his hotel room, tapping away at his laptop.", Dick says, finally moving away to fetch his phone, and his voice trails off into a mumble that he clearly doesn't mean for you to hear. "God, he worries me. He really does."

It's much too warm in here: you sigh, and shrug off your jacket, slinging it over the back of the computer chair before calling out,"You're such a mother hen sometimes, Dick."

"I care. Sue me.", he replies with a faux scowl. "You don't complain when you're ill and I bring you hot soup."

"You're a good cook, what can I say?"

"Husband material!", he chirps. You feel your stomach leap and your cheeks heat up at his words. He's only teasing, but the truth of it is, it has more effect on you than you would like to admit. Thankfully, he's quickly distracted by the crackle of Tim picking up the phone. "Timmy! How's things?"

Tim's voice is dry, as always, but with a noticeable undercurrent of frustration. "Shit. I hate it here."

"Hey, Tim. Bad day?", you say with sympathy. You feel a little bad for bothering him, now; as hard as everyone in the family works, Tim definitely pushes himself the hardest.

"I'm the youngest person here by at least twenty years, and my stomach can't handle sushi. Plus, Bruce gets separation anxiety from the rest of you. The one upside is that I've been able to practice my Japanese.", Tim replies. You feel bad for him, of course, but the image of him having to comfort a homesick Bruce has you suppressing a snicker.

Dick shoots an amused smile at you - he's too beautiful when he smiles, it isn't fair - that starkly contrasts the comforting tone he uses to respond to Tim. "Don't worry, darling brother - I've got something exciting for you! Check your emails - wait, only the most recent one, though, I sent you a link to a Red Hood fanpage-"

You interject with an accusatory wave of your finger. "Why the fuck didn't you send me that? Red Hood is sexy." If Jason were here, he would probably threaten to shoot you, but as it is, Dick's amusement only grows. His smile is so infectious, like it spirals out into the air and right into your chest, and you can't help but smile back at him. You don't know if it's the warmth of the room or simply from Dick himself, but you feel as though you're going to need to step outside for some fresh air soon.

"Because of your raging crush on Nightwing, probably." Tim cuts in, and you could fucking kill him. Dick gives you a pleased wink. "I'm looking at a pheromonal compound, right? Ivy's special formula?"

You muster as much venom into your voice as you can, without pissing Tim off so much that he leaves you to deal with this on your own. "Fuck you, Tim - and yeah. It's a newer version, though - I think she's evolving, if that makes sense? Her physiology is definitely changing." Tim gives a thoughtful hum in response to your words: you imagine it's in agreement.

Dick continues your train of thought. "We think she's working with someone else, or she's been experimenting on herself, maybe. Do you have any ideas about how she's making the new chemicals?"

"I'll need a few hours. Send me all the data over. You're right about it evolving, though - it's definitely airborne. Shit, this is actually really interesting - the molecules are more compact, smaller, so she doesn't need to rely on physical touch through her plants anymore-"

The rest of Tim's words are lost to a wave of horror. Airborne, he said - you'd doubt it if it wasn't for the similar shock that's written over Dick's face - and you have not been treating this sample as airborne. Ivy has always relied on physical, tangible contact to use her chemicals: you couldn't have known, there was no way you could've known, neither of you are experts on this kind of thing - you've fucked up.

"Airborne? How... airborne are we talking? Like, don't-sniff-the-test-tube?", Dick asks, cautiously, maintaining eye contact with you all the while. *Please, God, let it be don't-sniff-the-test-tube and nothing more than that. Please.*

"Shit, you haven't been wearing respirators - have you?". Tim sounds positively horrified. It does nothing to allay your fears, the worries that you've both been infected with Ivy's pollen; in fact, he all but confirms it. Everything is beginning to fall into place now. The tension around Dick - more so than usual, at least -, how warm you're feeling, the mental sluggishness that had you calling Tim in the first place.

You're angry at yourself, for your own stupidity - not Tim, but you're panicked, you're so unbelievably freaked out, and so you can't help but snap at the phone. "How were we meant to know, man? Ivy's never even hinted at having something of this level before!"

"You're working with chemicals, unknown chemicals, I hate-"

Dick cuts in before this can turn into a full-on confrontation. You've got no idea how he's managing to keep a level head. Perhaps the pheromones are already taking a more severe effect, or maybe it's a placebo effect, and you pray that it is, but you can already feel your heart beginning to pound against the confines of your chest. "It's just pheromones, right? We know it's not toxic, at least - Ivy's victims only take a few days to come around, at most. They're just kinda fucked up for a few days."

You admire Dick so, so much. He's right, he's always right, he always manages to keep you calm and make you feel safe: you'll just have to stay with him, and you'll be okay. If you stay here, he can comfort you, and maybe the impacts of the pollen won't even be that bad. And, if they are, well, there's no one else in the manor tonight, and Dick's so handsome and kind and strong, and maybe he'll - fuck.

Tim snickers. "Fucked, indeed. Only when Ivy's in a good mood, though. You guys better get ready for a tough night. I've heard it can get really bad, especially if you're deprived of - oh, fuck, I can't talk about this, this is too funny but it's so weird, oh my god-", and he dissolves into a fit of awkward, stunted laughter. Dick fixes you with an apologetic look, but you swear his golden cheeks are tinged with red.

"How long until it kicks in?", he asks. It's a stupid, stupid question, because you feel like you're close to dying already. You know what he means, though: when will it get bad? You've seen Ivy's victims before. They're entirely without dignity, practically begging to be touched, sobbing from the pain of it all - and you've only heard rumours about the depraved things they let Ivy do to them. What they ask her to do to them.

The huff of Tim's breath crackles through the phone. "Uh - I don't know, maybe an hour? A little less, since Bruce never opens the windows in there. Just seal the sample up, drink plenty of water, and try not to freak out. It'll pass. You won't die."

///

You thought you could do it - stay in your room, deal with this alone, avoid any potential awkwardness with Dick -but you can't. It's barely been an hour. Sixty-seven minutes since you left the cave, to be exact. Sixty-seven minutes since Dick grabbed you by the waist to halt your speedy departure, touch light but insistent, and said if you need anything, come to me. His eyes were dark when he said it. Deep, dark blue, an ocean that you could get lost swimming in; but pupils already dilating, breath already speeding up. He meant it as nothing more than a kindness. Still, though, that hasn't been enough to stop you from coming onto your fingers with the image of those eyes burned onto the backs of your eyelids.

Ivy's pollen is designed to induce lust, yes, but only for the first person you see after you're infected with it. This means two things: firstly, that you need Dick more than anything right now. Your head is pounding, your lungs feel like they're on fire - the sensation between your legs isn't aching, it's agony, and you've spent fifty-two of the past sixty-seven minutes trying, and failing, to fool your body into believing that your fingers are his. The first thing you know, is that you need him, because you saw him right after you were infected. The second thing you know - there was no one else in that room. You were the only person Dick could have seen.

So, stupidly, you seek him out. You go back down to the cave, without even taking the time to wash your hands, because that's what your body is telling you to do, and you're acting more and more on instinct. Potential awkwardness be damned. He'll fix this.

Dick's facing away from you, reclined in the computer chair: his posture seems almost relaxed, just almost, legs sprawled out and left elbow visibly sticking out from around the back of the chair, like he's got one hand close to his head. You'd assume he was still looking at the computer, if you weren't so hyperaware of everything right now, but you are, and you notice more. From what you can see of his body - it's low-blue-lit from the computer screen, enough that you can make out the muscle of his legs through his sweatpants if you squint, but it's not enough, you need to see more - he seems tense. Too tense. Normally, you'd sneak closer, but your head is practically spinning now and Dick will help you. He'll make this better. Your voice is hoarse and dry when you manage to call his name.

He immediately jolts in his seat, spinning to face you, and now that he's backlit by the computer, you can barely see more than the outline of his body. God, he looks so lean, so tall - "Are you okay?", he asks, and he sounds almost as bad as you feel. You swallow thickly before responding - and, through the fog in your head, you realise that your jacket is clutched in his left hand.

You, miraculously, manage a weak smile. "I just - I thought maybe it would, you know, be better to... be together, during this. In case - if one of us needs help, or something. I don't know.". You sound stupid. Dumb. You feel it, too, and you can't even bring yourself to care. The mere sight of him is helping: it doesn't remove the pain, or any of the physical sensations, really, but at least the panic of not being near him is being soothed.

"That's - yeah, okay. How are you feeling?", Dick replies. His voice is barely more than a whisper, but you hear it as clear as if he were right up against you. Chest pressed to your back, lips on the curve of your jaw, that voice going right through you and into the pits of your stomach.

It's wrong, to think of him like this, when all he's doing is trying to check that you're alright. He knows you aren't, but he's trying.

The best thing you can think to do is make a weak attempt at a joke. "I've got a newfound fear of Ivy." Dick even huffs out a laugh, but it's just as half-hearted as your words. "I didn't think it was going to be this bad at first, Jesus - but it keeps getting worse, and, it just-"

"-it hurts. I know.". Dick nods. As you take a step closer to him, you realise that your eyes have finally adjusted to the relative darkness of the cave, and you realise that you can see his cock straining against his sweatpants. He's hard. What's more, there's a distinct wet patch leaking through the material.

When you entered the cave, you couldn't see one of his hands; the chair wasn't moving enough for him to be stroking himself, and you're not sure whether you're glad he wasn't, but now that you think of it, there was definite movement. Like he was palming himself through his sweatpants, maybe. And the hand that was close to his head, it's clutching your jacket, he was holding your jacket close to his face while he-

"Dick - were you...?"

He sighs, halfway between embarrassed and resigned, and sinks back down into the computer chair. He keeps your jacket clenched in a white-knuckle grip. "I had to take the edge off somehow, right? I'm sorry, I didn't think you would be coming back down here, I never meant to make you uncomfortable or anything-"

"I'm not uncomfortable.", you blurt out before you know what you're saying. Dick's expression visibly shifts - you don't have the mental clarity to figure out into what, exactly - but you can feel your own eyes widen as you process the implications of what you just said. "Oh, fuck - I didn't mean it like that, I - sorry."

Dick just shakes his head. He must mean for you not to worry. You stand in silence for a while, not exactly awkward but certainly thick with tension, before he pats a hand onto the desk beside him. "God, this is worse than I thought. Do you wanna come sit down?"

Do you? Although being closer to Dick sounds like the only thing you want in the world right now - god, you can't help but think about how good he would look, if you were close enough to really study him, now that you're beyond giving a fuck about etiquette - you're also acutely aware of how difficult it'll be to control yourself. Undeniably, you want him. You've wanted him for months, really - but the pollen has taken that desire and multiplied it tenfold, made it so that it's all-consuming and painful. In your room, nothing more than imagining him, it was bad enough. Now, now that you can see his fucking cock, now that the image of him rubbing himself with a blissed-out look on his face, it's almost impossible to control.

You move to sit next to him. You can't help yourself. Once you start moving, you feel like it's all in slow-motion: Dick's watching you, dark eyes trained so closely on your form, and you're wearing nothing more than a tight-fitting pair of leggings and a thin t-shirt. After what feels like an age - too long to be apart from him - you reach the desk, and upon clumsily perching yourself on it, you see Dick looking as though he's about to pass out.

"Fuck, did I - did I do something wrong? I'm sorry-", you say hastily, but he instantly shakes his head and trains his eyes on yours. The blue is nearly gone. It's all blown-out pupils now, so much that his eyes are nearly black.

He licks his lips as if to wet them. "-no, no, but - when you were in your room - when you were alone - did you do anything to take the edge off? Did you touch yourself?"

You could say no, if you wanted to. You could lie. He would know, but he wouldn't press it, and you could save yourself the shame. For all that Dick must be struggling just as much as you are, he's exceedingly kind, so much that no amount of fucked-up drugs could change that: he's still your Dick, underneath all of this.

"Yeah.", you admit after a heartbeat, and your stomach lurches when you see his cock twitch through the sweatpants. Still, you're embarrassed, and you feel the need to explain yourself just a little. "It felt like my skin was on fire unless I did. It still feels like that, though - like it just wasn't enough, I guess."

"I can smell it on you.", Dick says lowly. Oh, God. That's hot. That's so, unbelievably hot - especially when you see his cock twitch again - but absolutely mortifying. You're torn between wanting to jump on him, right here and now, and retreating back to your room. You compromise by burying your face in your hands, and letting out a pathetic whine to signal how fucked-up you are right now. Maybe you can calm down, now that you don't feel on the verge of a panic attack from being away from him, if you take a few deep breaths.

Naturally, Dick hardly gives you the chance. You feel his hand come to rest on your knee out of nowhere; it's a gentle touch, but you can feel him trembling, and the touch sends a bolt of electricity through you that's strong enough to make you jolt. "I want to help you. The whole point of these pheromones is to make it so that you need touch - it only hurts because we're not getting that. So, I can-", he says raspily, punctuating the pause with a reassuring squeeze to your lower thigh, "-touch you, just... platonically, if that's what you want. What you need."

His voice drops down an octave with the last sentence - you whine again, involuntarily, but you just about manage to turn the sound into words.

"Dick, you don't have to - we can just push through this, I know it'll be uncomfortable for you - I mean, I know it's not like we haven't hugged and stuff before, but this is different, I don't want you to feel forced because you feel bad for me."

Dick must lean forward, closer to you, because his palm slides further up your thigh. The pain that prickles insistently under your skin is beginning to turn into fiery heat: not unpleasant, but desperate, hot, and you're starting to feel like you're not going to be able to stop if he asks you to touch him. "I don't feel bad for you.", he insists, reaching up with his free hand to peel your hands away from your eyes. He curls his fingers around yours as he continues. "I just want to make you feel better - both of us feel better. See, it's already helping, right? Just relax. This is bad enough as it is."

His thumb starts to trace circles on the inside of your thigh. It's nowhere near high enough to be considered sexual, but the movement has your legs almost trembling. You wonder if he can feel the tension of your muscles. "It's... it doesn't hurt anymore. Thank you.". And, technically, you're not lying: it doesn't hurt, in fact it feels fucking incredible. You spent fifty-two minutes trying to replicate this sensation. He's only touching your thigh, it has no business feeling this good, but each little beat of his thumb has waves of pleasure crashing through you. God, how good would it feel to fuck him like this? You're shaking, and you know it, and it only makes him tug you by the hand to stand up.

Even the loss of his touch on your thigh feels devastating, but Dick's next words are more comfort than you could have imagined possible. "Here. Come sit, if you want.", he says - whispering again, voice so low and so deep, but it's just the effects of the pollen, you tell yourself - and gestures to his thigh. "You can lean back into me, don't worry, it'll be better for your back."

This has to feel as good for him as it does for you. Logically, it has to. You've both breathed in the same pollen, his skin has the same sheen of sweat that you can feel on your own skin, you're both trembling in every part of your body, and he's still rock hard. You can feel yourself leaking, god, enough that it might have dampened your leggings and left a wet spot on the desk. What would Dick do, if he saw that? He's clearly turned on, but maybe he still has the good sense to avoid fucking: maybe his view of you as 'just platonic' is so deeply ingrained, he would never touch you down there to feel how wet he's made you. Or, maybe he wants you like you want him.

"Are - are you sure?", you stammer. You can't stop looking at his lap. His cock, painfully obvious (and he mustn't care, because he blatantly drew your attention to it), and the corded muscle of his thighs, spread out straight to form you a perch.

"Mhmm...", he hums from somewhere deep in his chest, and suddenly you're grateful that he's still holding your hand, because the sound almost makes your knees buckle. He tugs gently. "Only if you want to be close to me, though."

He says that like an afterthought - like he knows exactly what you want, and like he's hungry for your touch and doesn't want to consider the idea that you don't want to give him it. You can't bring yourself to look at him before you move to sit in his lap, because you know he'll see the desire, and for now, you're still pretending that you don't want to push him down in that chair and ride him for hours. He'd like that, you think. He'd like it if you pulled his hair while you did it.

Dick lets go of your hand so he can take your waist in both hands, guiding you down onto his lap and gripping harder when your ass inadvertently brushes over his cock. You don't mean to do it, of course, and you jump like you've been shocked: you shuffle further down his thigh to avoid another mishap, but the movement causes your pussy to just barely drag against the hard muscle - you hardly manage to control your moan, forced to sink your teeth into your lip. Thankfully, Dick doesn't seem to notice, and he helps you lean back so his chest is pressed to your back, before lifting his arms to rest on the armrests. From here, he begins to rub soothing lines up and down your arms, and he tips his cheek down to rest against your shoulder with a relieved sigh.

"Fuck, that... yeah, that feels better.", you practically gasp. Feeling him pressed up against the entire length of your body, as torturous as it is, is the most relief you've gained all evening; his legs are shaking just enough that you can feel it in your core, though, and you're forced to tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder. You'll lose your fucking mind if you don't start to relax, he's right.

With your neck exposed, though, you can feel Dick's hot breath tickling your skin when he speaks. "Good, right? It feels good?". For the first time, you really hear the tension in his voice. So much so that you can't pass it off as your own projections, or a trick of his tone - he's just as desperate as you are, holy shit, he sounds halfway to begging, he sounds like he's dying to know that his touch is making you feel good. Your hips twitch of their own accord.

"Yeah... Dick?", you whisper after a few moments. He nods in response against your shoulder, a slow, dragging movement that feels like honey dripping through your veins from the point of contact. "Are you really warm, too, or like - is that just me? I - I feel like I'm burning up... Do you mind if I..." - you trail off, instead opting to tug cautiously at the hem of your shirt.

He sucks in a deep, rapid breath that you feel press against your back. For a moment, you worry that you've gone too far - it feels so good, but it's too weird, too strange for him even now - but then he slowly curls his fingers around the hem, replacing your own hands, and starts to pull upwards at a torturous pace. His knuckles drag over your lower abdomen for just a second and your hips twitch again, and he definitely felt it this time but he says nothing, and his breathing is warm and fast against the skin of your neck; with the shirt discarded, you're left in nothing more than a thin bra. Although the room feels warm, furnace-hot, you're all too aware of the blatant hardness of your nipples, and you tell yourself it's okay, he won't notice, because you're facing away and he won't - his palm drags against your breast on the way back down and it feels so good, too good, and you can't help but whimper, "Fuck, yes-"

Three things happen in quick succession. Dick freezes, you realise what you've done and move to jump up and run for the hills, and then Dick grabs your hips and pulls you back into him, right over his cock, this time. The friction makes both of you let out a breathy sigh, but where you clap a hand over your mouth, Dick follows it up with a hoarse proposition. "I can touch you properly, if you want. It'll make all this go away, I promise - do you want me to?", he rasps, pressing one, quick kiss to the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. "Do you want me to touch you?"

His grasp on your hips is tight, wanting, but gentle enough that you know he wouldn't stop you if you tried to leave again. When you make no move to do so - you're frozen, you can't believe he's just offered to do what your body is screaming for - Dick pulls at your hips, slowly, dragging your ass over his cock and then pushing you back down. He repeats the motion a few times, rolling his own hips up into you a little more with each motion, and soon your muscles start to work so you can grind down onto him. Dick rewards you with a quiet moan - oh, you want him to do that again, you're going to make him do that again, louder and louder - and then, with a touch so light you could cry, he traces one hand over your hipbones and down to your pussy.

One finger traces your slit through your leggings, and you hear yourself moan, but you're hardly aware of making the noise - just this simple touch feels almost as good as the orgasm you had earlier, even just this feather-light pressure through two layers of fabric, and every nerve ending in your body sets alight at once. This is what you needed, more than anything, for Dick to touch you and drag you down onto his cock, and you're so overwhelmed that every muscle in your body goes lax, leaving you to collapse into his chest.

Dick rubs gently at your pussy a few more times, like he's exploring you, and then suddenly he taps right where your clit is. You cry out, and he sighs against your neck. "God, I can feel how wet you are already. You should have told me, I would've done something sooner, you know that - fuck, you're so wet, let me - let me finger you, huh? Please?"

"Yeah - please, Dick.", you whine, and when you say his name, he moans and shoves his cock up against you again. He mumbles something into your skin that you don't quite make out, and then his hand is fumbling with your waistband, clumsily slipping into your underwear and then he's there, his fingers are brushing right against your clit, you sob out a broken cry - you're so wet that his fingers brush right through your folds, gliding like silk, and by the time he reaches your hole, two fingers easily sink in right to the knuckle.

Your pussy instantly clenches down, hard, and you feel more full than you thought could be possible. Dick moans into the skin of your neck and gives you a moment to calm down, to soothe the desperate jolting of your hips, before he starts to pump his fingers; slowly, at first, but soon picking up into a faster and more urgent pace. With each movement, he scissors his fingers a little, spreading you wider every time, and he starts to mouth at your neck with hot, wet kisses. "Do you like that, yeah? Am I making you feel good? Is this what you need?"

You fling an arm behind you to grasp at his hair, and when you tug after a particularly delicious curl of his fingers, he bites down hard onto your shoulder. "Fuck, yes, yes - please don't stop, please, Dick, don't stop-"

"I'm not going to stop, don't worry, I've got you - I'm here, I'm not gonna stop, you sound too pretty for me to stop, fuck - I knew you would sound pretty, keep making those noises for me."

Your body feels like it's going through the most intense orgasm of your life, especially now that he's given up on pumping his fingers in favour of curling them in rapid beats against your g-spot, but you know that you're not even coming yet: you're close, though, judging by the way the room is spinning around you, and the pressure building in the pit of your stomach - "I think I'm close, Dick, - oh, oh, oh my god, I don't - it's never felt like this before, I don't - fuck-"

"I know, I know, baby-", he croons, and the pet name has you tugging at his hair again, the other hand white-knuckled on the armrest, "-it's okay, it's gonna feel different - it's gonna feel better, I promise, it's going to be so good, I'm going to get you there, baby, come on."

"Fuck - fucking - Jesus, Dick, keep going, just like that-!", you all but shout, and Dick continues the massaging movement right up on your g-spot: the positioning of his hand means the heel of his palm is dragging over your clit, and your hips are frantically grinding up into his hand - god, you're gonna come, the world feels like it's crashing down around you, you feel the contractions start a few seconds before it actually hits you and it's going to be earth-shattering, you know it, every muscle in your body tenses up and through it all you hear Dick whispering, come on, that's it, I've got you, come on, come on, and then you're coming-

Distantly, you can feel his fingers continue their movements inside of you, unrelenting - and the other hand keeps a firm grip on your hips, grounding you onto his lap - but other than that, all you know is the white-flash across your vision and the pleasure slamming into each nerve in your body, one by one and then all at once: this is better than anything you've ever felt, better than every orgasm put together, and it feels feels for a moment like you're actually going to black out from the sheer intensity of the pleasure.

Then, suddenly, you're back in reality. Dick is heaving for breath against your shoulder, but it's nothing compared to the way your own lungs are screaming for air - god, you think you were screaming, given the scratching sensation in your throat - and his fingers are back to a slow, steady pumping, in and out of your swollen pussy. It hurts, a little, but this one orgasm has done nothing to sate your desperate hunger: in fact, it's only made it worse, only increased your desire for him, and you swear his cock is impossibly harder against your ass now.

"You - you're dripping onto my hand, baby, oh my god...", Dick pants, and there's a heartbeat where neither of you move - then, you feel his breath hitch, and suddenly his other hand is shoving unceremoniously under your waistband and going straight for your clit. He picks up the pace with the two fingers still inside you, matching each curl with a flick over your clit, and the motions are all so frenzied, those of a man possessed with some ravenous desire, like his one purpose is to have you writhing in his lap, and you give a wordless cry - too overcome with blinding pleasure to actually make a sound - that allows you to hear his ragged words. "Please, give me another one, one more - I want to make you squirt this time, it's going to be so good, I promise, just give me one more, pretty girl-"

This time, it's not just one wave of pleasure, spreading from your core and emanating outwards; no, it's wave after wave after wave, violently crashing over you and completely overcoming every part of your body, unrelenting and constant - this one lasts at least twice as long as the last, but you're hardly in the right state of mind to keep track of time, and every wave of pleasure that rushes through you is tenfold stronger than the last. You hear yourself shriek his name in the most pathetic, broken tone, and Dick cages you in against his body as best as he can as he keeps both hands working at your pussy, and you realise you're sobbing when he finally, finally stops.

When his fingers slip out of your pussy and exit your leggings, they're dripping wet. Dick audibly gasps, and then he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks, moaning around the digits, and through hazy eyes you can see the most fucked-out look on his face just at the taste of your cum. He licks his fingers clean - you feel your pussy clench down again at the sight - before opening his eyes, fixing you with an intense stare, and panting, "You taste so fucking good - baby, I'm not going to be able to stop, I'm sorry, I need this, I need to fuck you - please."

He's asking permission, you realise. Neither of you are in control of what you're doing anymore, and he's still asking, as best as he can, if he's allowed to fuck you. There's a terrified look in his eyes, behind the frenzy and the lust - you clumsily crash your lips against his. He tastes of your juices, but it's one of the hottest things you've ever experienced, and he moans openly into your mouth, eagerly meeting your tongue with his own. You're exhausted, but kissing him renews your energy tenfold. You're suddenly overcome with the urge to feel his cock - inside you, yes, but you want to see it first, you want to make him cry out and moan and gasp for you - so you manoeuvre in his lap, keeping your mouth against his, to straddle his narrow hips and face him.

"Ah - ah, god, that feels amazing.", Dick moans, broken up between sloppy kisses, saliva starting to drip down both of your chins - but it's hot, so hot - as you frantically reach down to palm at him. The instant you finally touch his cock, you're gone: there's no stopping now that you can feel how achingly hard he is, now that you feel how he twitches under your hand each time you kiss him, and it takes much longer than you would like to undo the drawstring of his sweatpants, pull them down, and wrap your hand around the exposed length of him. He hisses as his whole body jerks.

Instantly, you set a frenzied pace of stroking him, relishing in each ragged moan that you rip from his throat; he's leaking into your palm, you realise, dripping over your fingers as you pull him back by the hair and attach your lips to his neck. When you suck a bruise into the softest part of his skin - the salty-sweat-tangy hollow beneath his Adam's apple - he shouts out your name, loud, followed by, "-fuck, fu- let me fuck you, baby, please, I - I'm close, you have to stop-"

"Come on my hand, Dickie.", you plead, and you're granted a thick spurt of precum when you lick a stripe up the column of his throat: he tastes so good, his skin so hot under your mouth, you can't stop, and you croon right into his ear, "It's - it's gonna last for hours, still, you're still gonna be hard - I'm still so needy for you, Dickie, look - come on my hand, let me see it, please. You can fuck me after, just come for me where I can watch it, oh - oh, please." His moans start to pick up in volume and frequency, coming from a place deeper in his throat. He's close, you know.

You've started to grind onto his thigh somewhere along the way. It feels amazing, it feels even better because you know he's twitching and aching for you just inches away - once you finally drag yourself out of the crook of his neck, you see that you've left a damp streak on his sweatpants in the wake of your hips, and the steady stream of precum leaking from his cock has soaked the material higher up. "Come on, Dickie, come on, let me see you come, I wanna see it, I - I'll, fuck, I'll lick it clean after, Jesus-", you blurt out, too far gone to be horrified at the ease with which the words spill from your lips.

"Oh, baby, shit-” he cries, and then his voice dissolves into a broken jumble of incoherent mumbles and whines. His cock twitches hard in your palm, once, twice, three times against the rapid pace you maintain on him, and then Dick bucks his hips up into your hand, back arched, perfectly still and tense; he comes hard, almost whimpering, head thrown back and eyes tightly shut, looking so, so perfect as you stroke him through it and grind feverishly onto his thigh. It's the image of his cock that has the breath snatched from your chest, though. Several thick ropes of cum spurt from him as you work him through it, some hitting the skin of your abdomen and some dripping down the length, and it just keeps going, no sign of stopping until Dick completely collapses, after almost a minute of moaning and coming - your hand is drenched with him.

The sight of his cum dripping from your palm makes something in your stomach clench hard, painfully, and suddenly you need to taste him, you have to, it hurts so much and it'll go away as soon as you get your mouth on him. You scramble off the chair, almost falling to your knees in front of him - he rushes to steady you, even with weak and shaky arms - but you don't care about how graceful you look right now. As soon as you manage to nestle yourself between thighs, you lick flat up the underside of his cock. The taste of it makes your eyes roll back in your head. Dick spits, "Holy shit!", and it trails off into a deep gasp as you wrap your lips around him and sink down as far as you can go. You'd take your time, usually, but everything in your body is screaming for you to taste him, let him fill you, and you're in no position for argument.

With each dip of your head - punctuated with a moan from the man above you, each one becoming closer to a growl, animalistic, and you think the pollen is beginning to send your bodies into total overdrive now - you take him as deeply as you can. You're nearly gagging, but that's what you need. His hands tangle into your hair; at first, you can tell he's trying to be as gentle as he can, but that's soon overcome with a tight, guiding grip that pushes you further down onto his cock with each bob of your mouth. The burning heat under your skin is killing you now, too much to ignore, so you manage to shuffle out of your leggings and underwear and kick them away: Dick groans roughly, maybe because he can smell you more clearly now-

"Come here, pretty girl-", Dick says, sliding his hands from your hair to lift you up by the jaw. You mean to whine, perhaps beg him to let you back down, because he feels so good in your mouth - then you see the look on his face. He looks totally gone. Nothing like the Dick you know, warm and gentle and relaxed: his eyes are completely clouded over, lips parted and slick with saliva, brow furrowed with something between pain and carnal desire. You imagine you look much the same, with spit dripping from your chin, the heat you can feel burning your cheeks, and the wetness you feel running down the insides of your thighs. He meets your eyes, and there's a moment of stillness. One thumb slips from your cheek to trace over your lower lip.

Then, both of you move at once - you surge forward to kiss him again, those perfect, pink lips - you fumble with the hem of his shirt, ripping it up and over his head while barely leaving his mouth for a second - Dick's hands slide down your body to your waist. He pulls you into him as he leans forward, half-supporting your weight, and suddenly your back is against the floor and he's on top of you, kissing you hard and bruising, the chair long since kicked away and forgotten about. Every inch of freshly exposed skin feels like molten silk under your touch: you slide greedy hands over his torso as he licks into your mouth, feeling the network of ridged scars and each ridge of muscle. Thankfully, Dick grants you a few precious, savoured moments to feel his skin, while he alternates between rolling his hips against your bare pussy and kicking off his sweatpants.

It's all ungraceful and clumsy - wet kisses stolen between your movements, each of you moaning against the other's lips - and it takes much, much too long for both of you to finally shed yourself of all your clothes. Dick's hands grab greedily at your breasts as he ruts his hips against you a few times, and you can feel how your wetness spreads over his cock. Then, his hands fly down to find your knees, and he drags them to fit around his waist, pulling up until your hips are fully tilted, the stretch of your muscles verging on uncomfortable. "Oh, fuck, that's it, baby. Keep your legs there for me, won't you? Come on, wrap your legs around me - I want to get as deep as I can, it's gonna feel amazing, I promise.", Dick says, bordering on a growl now that his voice is so deep and strained, and you do as he says immediately. You need him inside of you, now; you hook your ankles behind his back, kiss him, and desperately grind your hips into his.

And then, with one deep roll of his hips, he's inside of you. One quick thrust and he's buried to the hilt, and, God, he fits inside you so perfectly: your body all but melts at the feeling of finally being filled, and you keen as you instinctively use your ankles to press his hips further into you. Dick's just large enough to stretch you out, even with how wet and ready you are, without becoming painful, and the pollen means it only takes you a short moment to adjust to his size before your body is pleading to be fucked. He's shaking and panting with restraint above you whimper, "Ho-holy fuck, Dickie, please... please move, oh my god."

"I know, baby, I know.", he says, breathlessly, voice tight with pleasure but still sympathetic. Even with him motionless inside you, it already feels so good, better than anyone you've ever fucked, and you can hardly stop yourself from grabbing him by the shoulders, pushing him down, and riding him. "It just feels so good, you feel so good - I don't want to rush it, I want to make it last. Jesus, my body feels like it's on fire while I'm touching you, I - oh, fuck, I want to take it slow, make you feel so good you cry-"

"-We have all night to be slow, Dick, you can do whatever you want to me, just fuck me-"

Dick's hips roll into yours and a drawled curse falls from his parted lips. He pulls out, almost completely, enough that you panic and squeeze him tighter with your thighs, but then he pushes back into you, slowly, letting you savour the way each nerve ending inside your pussy is set ablaze; he repeats the motion, faster, his curses morphing into sweet mumbles of your name each time he bottoms out. You can hardly breathe - it feels so good, and each thrust of his hips is met with a pollen-driven roll of your own, so it's half-grinding, half-fucking - the slight curve of his cock has him dragging deliciously against your g-spot every time. His movements are picking up in intensity now, and you can tell the pollen is taking him over completely. The same is happening to you: fuck it, you don't want to think about the pollen anymore, you just want him.

"Ah, yes! Yes, right there-right- keep going-", you cry out after a particularly hard slam of his hips. Dick is propped up on one elbow, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, and the other hand slips down to grab at your ass and pull you up into him. He's deep enough that it hurts, but it's the best pain you've ever experienced. "Fuck, faster, please!"

He obeys, mercifully, and you think you can see sweat starting to bead on his temples. "Is this what you need, pretty girl? Come on, tell me what you want - tell me I'm making you feel good, because you're making me feel so fucking good, I swear, better than I ever even imagined - fuck, you're so wet, are you going to come again? Please, please let me make you come on my cock."

The combination of his cock inside you, and his pelvis bumping against your clit, and the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body: it's all too much to bear, your body is going into total overdrive, and it's so embarrassing that he's got you like this. You never normally beg, you never normally come so fast, but this is different and addictive and incredible - you cry out an affirmation to his words, and suddenly his hand is gripping your chin. He's fully collapsed onto you now, and his movements are more frantic rutting than anything else.

"Look at me-", he pleads, using his hand to guide your face so you're staring right into those glassy eyes. "-look at me while you come, and it'll make me come."

You can feel your muscles beginning to tense up as your orgasm starts to grow. Already, your world is spinning, and you feel halfway to blacking out from the sheer intensity, so you tangle your hands into his hair as a way to ground yourself. "Please come inside me!", you whine - the idea of being filled with his cum, letting it drip out while he fucks another load into you, it's fucking mind-blowing and you can't imagine anything better than feeling him shoot into you while you come on his cock.

Dick's jaw clenches tightly. "Are - are you sure, baby? Is that what you want?"

The next thrust hits you perfectly, and you can't help but pull him tighter into you, so his head drops to the crook of your neck. "I need it, Dickie, you know - you know that - you need me too, right? Fuck, fuck - it's gonna feel so good, I'm so close-". He spends a few moments sucking a bruise into the most tender skin of your neck before moving to press his forehead to yours. Each rough movement of his hips has you jostling against the floor; your nipples are dragging against his chest every time, making you keen, and your swollen clit is being hit so perfectly by his hips, and he's making the most perfect and breathy noises against you - he looks so fucked-out, so gone, so completely absorbed in the feeling of his cock inside you, and your vision is starting to blur at the edges as the spark in your stomach finally bursts into flames-

"That's it, baby, come for me just like that.", Dick gasps, just as your orgasm rips through you. You've got no choice but to clutch at him desperately and ride out each devastating wave as a scream tears itself from your lungs: it feels like your body is tearing itself apart with each ripple of pleasure emanating from your core. Like your body is folding in on itself like a black hole does, when everything becomes too much to bear. You actually feel like you've died, you must have, this is too good and too much and too overwhelming - you hang on to Dick through it all, and your pussy clenches down so hard he can barely move inside you, and he chokes out your name before his own orgasm hits him.

You've come down just enough to process the way he looks and sounds as he comes. Your eyes are still hazy - you kept them on him, you must have - but you nearly come again at the mere sight of him. He's too far gone to even make sounds, and instead he stutters out broken breaths through wet lips, cheeks flushed and eyebrows furrowed hard, and his eyes stay fixed on you the whole time. Even as the rest of his body spasms and rocks into you uncontrollably, even as the hand on your chin slips down to your neck and squeezes, he keeps staring at you with all the lust in the world. The best part of it all, though, is how you feel his cum spilling out into you; even more than he shot onto your hand, somehow, and you realise you're crying from how relieved your body is. Fully, fully, crying, and Dick kisses away your tears as he collapses against you.

Despite how both of you are wincing at the overstimulation, neither of you ever stop moving through it all, and you keep grinding gingerly, carefully but sloppily, against each other even while you gasp for breath against each others' lips. It can't be more than ten seconds from when you come down, before you can't control the urge to whisper, "Give me another one, Dick, please. Keep fucking me." It hurts - it hurts because he's not fucking you, he's not moving enough - you need more.

Dick keeps rolling his hips against yours in shallow movements for a few seconds. His mouth is occupied with sucking more bruises into your neck, up your throat and across your jaw: he's mumbling something incoherent, slurring his words. Each fresh bruise has you gasping his name. You're going to be covered in marks after this - not just your neck, his grip on your ass and hips has been tight enough to leave bruises there, too - and you're entirely certain you've left scratch marks down his back. You nearly come again just at the thought of that; Dick, walking around for days with your marks left on him. Scratch marks under his dress shirts when he's on business, or under the tight material of his Nightwing suit, or blatantly visible through the obscenely sheer shirts he wears out clubbing. He's going to be marked as yours.

"You look so pretty like this, holy shit-", he says, pulling his head from your neck to admire his work. "You're so gorgeous - you always are, you always fucking are - but you look even better when you're mine, fuck-"

“-make me yours, then, please-"

You gasp in shock and disappointment as Dick suddenly pulls out, and his own face crumples at the loss of touch, but his palms are firm and insistent on your waist - he kisses you once, firmly, before he's manoeuvring your body like putty in his hands. You're flipped onto your stomach with another whisper of how pretty you are, and then Dick runs calloused palms down the soaked flesh of your thighs, up over your ass, over the curve of your spine and all the way up to gently, gently, press your cheek flat against the floor. He follows his hand with hot tongue, and when he reaches your ear, he murmurs, "You taste so good, pretty girl. Stay there for me. It's okay, let go. I've got you."

Uncontrollably, your ass jerks up and backwards against where his cock is pressing into you. He chuckles. He fucking laughs with his lips pressed to your cheek - maybe having came inside you has cleared his head enough that he can think straight enough to find your desperation funny - and one of his hands slides back down your body, spreading your pussy open for him to look at. You sense his body tense as he gazes at you. "...My cum is dripping out of you, oh my god."

Fuck it back into me, you think, but you're too far gone to string together a coherent sentence anymore. Your body can do the talking. You keep your cheek pressed to the floor, maybe because your muscles are too exhausted to lift your head, or maybe because it was so fucking hot how Dick pressed your head down, but you manage to meet his eyes. You plead with him as well as you can.

Dick's piercing blue eyes roll right back into his skull when he pushes into you again. From this angle, he feels even deeper than before: with one of his hands running lines up your spine, and his lips wet against the backs of your shoulders, and the steady, strong pace he sets fucking you, you're brought to the verge of tears again within minutes. You can hardly move your body to work with him in this position: he uses the weight of his body to press you into the floor, and each thrust of his hips has you moaning loud against the floor.

He brings a string of kisses and nips up your nape, so he can kiss your cheek again. It's sweet, a gentle gesture, only amplifying the pleasure that each deep snap of his hips brings. "I - I'm not hurting you, am I? I know it must be sensitive, baby, I understand if it's too much, I know - you can tell me if it's too much-"

"-no, please-", you whimper, terrified he's going to stop, "-it's so good, please, Dickie, you're exactly what I need-", and then your voice cuts out into a broken sob as one of his hand snakes between your body and the floor to find your clit. The rough pad of his finger brushes over it a few times, eliciting whimpers from you, before he settles for simply resting his finger on your clit. With each thrust, your hips are jostled against his finger just enough to send sparks of electricity shooting through your veins - every time, it feels like flames licking through each limb, and he's fucking into you so perfectly, claiming you with teeth at your neck, rasping your name against your skin - there's wetness against your cheek, like you're drooling, and you're almost certain you can feel the wetness of your pussy dripping onto his hand.

You're so swollen with desire, you can feel how tightly you're clenching down onto his cock. The mind-blowing pressure Dick's applying to your clit is only making it stronger. "You feel so good, baby. So, so, fucking good - holy shit, you're taking me so well." Then, there's a savage thrust of his hips, one that has both of you crying out in surprise and pleasure: he freezes buried to the hilt inside you. "You're going to make me come again soon, sweetie."

That means more of his cum inside you, more of his delicious moans and groans as he comes, and you say, "God, please-"

"-not yet, I want to make you come for me again. You feel so tight and hot when you do - I need it again, I want nothing more than that, please - you think you can give me another one, huh? One more for me?"

"I - I - yeah.", you stammer. You can, you know you can - your body is practically vibrating from how hard you're trembling on the edge of another orgasm - but you don't know when it's going to stop, you don't know it ever will - maybe this will go on all night, maybe he'll fuck you for hours on end and make you cry and let you lick your mess of his cock. But maybe it won't. Maybe your body will give out, or the pollen will leave his system: this will end and nothing will ever compare. You don't want to come again if it means the end of this pleasure. "...Promise you'll keep going after, Dickie."

Dick starts rubbing rapid circles on your clit with his ring and index finger, and kisses your hairline to soothe you as you sob again. "I'm only going to stop if you ask me to, baby, I promise. You feel too good to stop, I swear - I never thought you would be so fucking perfect, but now I know, I can't stop - I'm right here, I've got you, I'm going to make you come so many times you forget your name if that's what you want."

God, you're going to come again, holy shit-

He hardly gives you the chance to come back around before he's crooning, "-one more, one more for me, right on my cock like that-"

You can't even breathe. Your lungs are on fire, your vision is completely blacked out even once the second orgasm ends, your muscles and bones have turned into mush and you can't feel anything other than the sensation of flying. You're weightless, Dick is the only thing grounding you - he coaxes you down from the aftershocks with soft kisses to your cheek, and his hand tracing circles onto your aching hip, and the muscles of his abdomen are flexing with restraint against your back. "I'm gonna come, baby-", he hisses, and you manage the barest nod and then he sinks his teeth right into your shoulder as he starts pounding into you like a whore, fuck, it's sending you spiralling out of control again-

"Fuck, yes, take my cum like that, that's it, keep coming for me, holy shit-"

You're both boneless and drenched in sweat by the end of it. You're collapsed against the floor, Dick's collapsed against you, and he's still hard inside of you. You can feel his cum - it must have spilled out onto the insides of your thighs, judging by the wetness you feel there. His cock twitches inside of you with every ragged breath he takes. You're so exhausted; this is destroying your body, it's ripping you apart from the inside out, and you're terrified that if you come again it'll split you into pieces. And you want that. You twist your body, wincing against the waves of pleasure that crash over you at even the slightest movement of his cock inside you, and kiss him.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #dc #dcu #batman #batfam #kinktober #smut #dick grayson smut #sex pollen

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newswcanonprompts · 4 years ago

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Anakin is sent to negotiate with Gardulla the Hutt bc of the success of the Jabba mission (no one in the Council knows Gardulla used to own him)

editor’s note: there is actually a fic that came from this, by the lovely @primeemeraldheiress! here is the link

this one is SUPER angsty, sorry in advance, i missed the original conversation about this prompt and when i got back online everyone was yelling about it, when i read what they did i was in *shock*. like ow. anyways have fun

After being so helpful in rescuing Jabba the Hutt's son, Anakin, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan end up being sent on a mission to help Gardulla the Hutt because Anakin hasn't told anyone about his history with her

Possible reactions from Gardulla:

"Skywalker? I owned a human like that, her brat always caused trouble. Good riddance!"

What if she decides that since he's back in her territory that means he belongs to her again

.....gardulla hears him try to call obi-wan master and tries to buy anakin from him (Gardulla asking if obi-wan is anakin's master and anakin being in such a messed up mental space that he says yes, trusting that Obi-wan won’t let her buy him)

Obi-Wan wondering why Anakin is being so specifically arsey with this Hutt. "Force you're worse with her than you were with Jabba."

"Oh yeah, she bought me and my mother. I think I have a reason to dislike her."

The council meeting afterwards where obi-wan rails on the council...

Obi-Wan suddenly getting a horrible feeling whenever Anakin calls him master because he's known the contexts were different but now it is real and in his face

Like it's a different thing for Obi-Wan to know his padawan used to be a slave compared to looking his padawan's former master in the eye and seeing her current slaves.

Anakin manages to control himself in the throne room but the whole way there and back he can't help worrying that one of the really old lash scars that curls around his shoulder will be noticed, that his identity as a former slave will be exposed

anakin not being able to call obi-wan master on tatooine like. point blank. he starts addressing him as master and just. flinches.

anakin usually wears his heart on his sleeves right?? always shows his emotions, feelings, all that. Well, the closer they get to gardulla's palace the blanker his face gets

Ahsoka calls Anakin master and Anakin just grits out a "Please don't call me that, not here."

Obi-Wan suddenly realising why Anakin comes across as arrogant as times. He's spent his entire life trying to up his value because there's safety in value.

Anakin telling them not to use the name "Skywalker" while they're in the palace

Anakin's accent shifts so entirely to the point where it almost sounds like Obi-Wan's because he's so determined to not slip into old roles

Anakin having to be physically held back from getting into a physical fight. Not even using his lightsaber, he just wants to fight

Or, alternatively, all the fight just going out of Anakin because he knows, here, it'll just make everything worse. So he's almost.... compliant and it freaks everyone out

Ex. from @youngcreativenerdgoddess: Obi-Wan is terrified. His former padawan is the most resigned he’s ever been. He looks so....defeated. A look one would never expect on the vaunted “Hero with no fear”. All the fight was gone from him, and that scared him more than anything else in this force-damned war had.

Obi-Wan actually being the one about to lose his temper and then Anakin just puts a hand on his shoulder and tells him there's no point.

Consider: instead of anakin being angry he was sent on the mission, being resigned because of course he was, he knew Gardulla bes

Anakin comes across as an almost perfect Jedi for once in his life and in the context it is horrifying

Anakin’s report to the council is so matter of fact because he thought they knowingly sent him on the mission because of his past experience with Gardulla

Obi-Wan finds Anakin writing what he thinks is a CV then he sees the numbers next to it and it is his estimated value--"for the gardulla mission, if she finds out who I am she'll try to rebuy me"

After the mission, from @jasontoddiefor: "Failed you, we have," Yoda said, his voice full of grief, and Obi-Wan watched in horror as Anakin only titled his head, for once looking his age and not the years the war has aged him.

"What do you mean?" Anakin asked, not understanding.

Examples of bits and pieces from this prompt:

Ex. from jasontodiefor: Anakin in the corner of her palace having a breakdown because he remembers memories he had thought gone, his mother's shouting and the tearful begging and the pain, pain, pain and he hadn't meant to break the vase, it had been an accident, please stop it hurts, Mom-

jasontodiefor: "A game of chance."

"What?"

Anakin doesn't look up from his hands, doesn't meet Obi-Wan's eyes. He hadn't since they'd arrived here. "I'd still be here like them if not for a game of chance. I'd be worth more than just a few credits too. Force-sensitive, young, good with mechanics, pretty-"

Ex. from Ro: Obi-Wan has never seen Anakin this silent before. There were nights before, when they were both younger, Obi-Wan himself still trying to heal from Qui-Gon's death and Anakin trying to get used to the temple. And Anakin would get quiet, but he was never this stone cold silent. Never this blank. He's so emotional, Obi-Wan's former padawan (his child), so open with his heart on his sleeve. There is none of that here, none of that bright boy. Anakin doesn't fight it, and that is the thing that worries Obi-Wan the most, because when Anakin doesn't like something he fights, he lashes out with teeth and sticks his heels in. But in this, he is resigned. (Anakin doesn't let Ashoka off the ship. She fights and argues but Anakin doesn't move, doesn't joke. He stands firm with it and Obi-Wan watches.

"Master, I—"

Anakin flinches, "You're staying on the ship, Ahsoka, that's final." She huffs and leaves, and the only thing Obi-Wan can see is how relieved Anakin looks. There is something wrong here, but Anakin has never liked talking about Tatooine, and Obi-Wan has never pushed.) Obi-Wan has never hated a mission more.

Another ex from jasontodiefor: "But-"

"You're young," Anakin interrupts her sharply. Ahsoka hates it when he cuts her off. It doesn't happen too often, mostly on the battlefield when he's barking orders at everyone. If anything, he lets her speak out of tune more often than he should or other Masters would, but right now his voice doesn't leave any room for agreement. "Young, underage actually, and female, that's the first 10K. Extra five if they don't sell you as inexperienced, and only stupid slavers would do that, but as a virgin."

Ahsoka pales. Anakin's voice is harsh, but there is an almost easy flow to his words, as if he had recited them in his head over and over again. "Force sensitive, that's next. Another 8K regularly, but you're a Jedi, so that's 20K. A Padawan, mind you, but you're a known face next to mine and Obi-Wan's. Obi-Wan would fetch 40 for his status as a Jedi and councilor alone. And you're a Togruta, you sell better than a human girl. I'd add another 6 for that."

You sell better. Not you would, there's nothing hypothetical about this, Ahsoka realizes. Anakin's narrowing down what would happen to her if somebody just managed to grab her lightsabers, to put a collar around her throat and cut her off from all that she had ever known. "Now, that's just your base value," Anakin continues. "You're also a pretty good mechanic and pilot, though the latter makes your flight risk much higher. Given how dangerous you are, let's say 10K. You're a strong fighter, so you could probably get another 8K in the arena, perhaps a little more depending on what planet you're sold on. Your political value also can't be overlooked. You fight at the front and know much more about the war effort as a whole and that's worth much more, probably another 15." Anakin holds up his fingers like he's counting apples and now how much people would be willing to brand her as theirs. "So we're roughly at 70. That's not bad at all. Not as much as Obi-Wan or I would get, but it's more than enough. You're not coming on this mission. End of discussion."

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cinnamonest · 3 years ago

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I’m pushing out another one of my long-since-drafted things to the queue bc I’m trying to start keeping the queue active 24/7 and fill more asks but have this in the meantime

//dark shit, like the blood gore violence kind of yandere not the hot kind, brief animal death, gruesome slow npc death, gore, violence, blood, decaying/putrefaction mention

I'm really bad at judging what's mild versus severe when it comes to gore/blood bc I tend to underestimate, I think this is kinda severe? Let me know which it is actually pls so I have a better idea for the future ---------------------------------------- I mentioned a while back in the corpse disposal post and murder methods post that Razor can be... Brutal to say the least, but to expand more on the concept I feel like there's a big potential for a sort of gap moe with him, a duality that seems to contradict itself. Because in many ways he's a sweetheart, always trying to find things to make you happy, often smiling with those wide, excited eyes, physically affectionate with nuzzles and the like. But the other side of that, he's not actually aware of how... desensitized he is. You notice it early on and it catches you off guard a bit the first time it happens. Some poor little animal you two see struggling, like a bird stuck in a tree, and you urge him to go get it and he nods and says ok. Grabs it, and just as you're about to thank him and let it go you hear its little bones snap under the crush of his grip with a final pained chirp. There, he got it, see? Now you two can eat it together. That was why you wanted him to grab it right? To kill it? Why else? He looks down and realizes oh, it's still twitching, so he reached a hand up and twists its neck. There, now it's dead, he says with a beaming smile. But it falls and he tilts his head when he sees the shocked look on your face. What's wrong? Why are you so upset? You soon learn a lot of the animals don't... die immediately. The little things the wolves drag back are still kicking and struggling, still making noises as they tear into them to devour. It makes you sick to your stomach when you witness it, tears come to your eyes. He knows you don't like it and warns you, but... he doesn't understand why? Why does it upset you like that? He doesn't get it. It's a gnawing awareness in the back of your mind. You start to pick up on his... lack of reactions to certain things. You were once in the church getting healing for a minor wound of his when another group of adventurers came rushing through the doors, desperately begging for help for their friend they were carrying... some guy seriously injured, gored by a boar. The sight is burned in your mind forever, the organs spilling out of his split gut, the shivering and wide, bloodshot eyes, the blood bubbling out of his mouth with choked horrific groans and the way his body convulsed involuntarily. The most horrid thing you'd ever seen. And you were pretty certain it was that way for everyone. Everyone in the church was gasping, some people were retching and trying to hold back sickness, people ran out of the room as they were unable to handle the scene, tears were in everyone's eyes, and as the man wailed in agony from them setting his dislocated bones, you watched the bystanders cringe and wince. Every person in the vicinity was visibly horrified.... except for one. Razor's face was neutral. Curious. He leaned in closer to get a better look, eyebrows raised. He doesn't flinch at the sight of organs spilling onto the ground and the man starting to convulse and foam at the mouth as his eyes roll back into his head. And then, after a moment, he asks if you're ready to leave, says he feels better now and that man is really loud, he doesn't like it. His voice doesn't even have the slightest hint of a wavering or discomfort. When you come across a man in the woods caught in a bear trap, you can barely stand to look at it. Just hearing the cries for help had you shivering, and the sight of the pooling blood and utter agony on the man's face had you gasping, hand over your mouth as you tried to look away. ...Razor didn't seem to mind, though. He just undoes the trap and, without giving the man any warning, yanks it apart, pulling the spikes from his legs. As he does, blood shoots out and splatters on his face. He doesn't flinch, nor when the man screams. He does finally seem to react to the pained groans the man makes. But... It's not like your reactions. He's not flinching and grimacing, drawing in sharp breaths and tensing up, eyes watering in pity and shock like you. Instead, his eyes narrow and he puts his hands over his ears as you stoop down to help the poor man. His eyebrows furrow. He almost looks... Annoyed. He draws his foot back as if he's about to kick him, but freezes with realization when he looks at you, as if he forgot you were standing there, and puts his foot back down. You're certain he wasn't actually going to do that, of course. You're not sure why he did that, but... He wouldn't do something like that, even in a moment of dissociation from his human awareness. He does volunteer to be the one to go get help, though, getting away fast, but for some reason you sense it was more out of irritation at the noise rather than horror at the whole thing. Perhaps the worst was the decomposing body, that day you took a walk in the woods together. He smelled it first, nose wrinkling up in disgust at the putrid smell. But it was strong enough that you smelled it soon after. He says having dead animals this close to the residence of the pack is not good, they all hate the smell, so he can try to move the carcass of whatever animal it is... but it's not an animal, it turns out, once you finally find the source, collapsed at the bottom of a cliff from where they most likely fell to their death. Well, it's kind of a stretch to say it still resembles a human either, but you can tell from the general shape. It's more just like a glob, putrefied and rotting flesh falling off the bones. It shocks you so much you fall backwards, but he just moves closer. Ugh, too far rotted to move, he can't do anything about it, he realizes as he gives the decaying mass a kick and watches the blackened flesh slide off the bones. Oh well. ...In your shock, it takes you a moment to realize how... unbothered he seems. Mildly annoyed by the smell, but his expression is neutral as he looks at one of the most horrifying sights you've ever seen, he just yawns as he walks away from it and says you two should get away from the smell, it makes his head hurt.

The events all linger in the back of your head. A growing sense of wrongness, a dark, cold dread that settles in your stomach as the occurrences slowly grow in number, one after the other, each time you notice the complete lack of any sign of disturbance on his face, in his voice or body language. You ask him once, one time when you get the courage to ask such a... potentially offensive question. Don't you... feel anything when you see things dying? When they're in pain? He nods. He gets what you mean. The feeling when you watch something die. Hungry, right? Oh, no? Maybe you mean the irritation, a kind of angry feeling, what's the word... impatient...? Because the thing is taking too long to die and he wants it to go ahead and die already. Or maybe you mean like when that man was injured? When something is dying but it's not something you wanna eat? Yeah, he has a feeling then too. Um... kind of like anger... you taught him the word once... annoyed? They make so much noise, and he doesn't like loud things. When that man came into the church... he didn't like how loud it was. Why didn't they just kill him, since he was making so much noise...? He doesn't get it. When things annoy him, he kills them, like loud birds and biting bugs. He kinda had an urge to just... reach out and make the man stop screaming, just twist his neck like he does small animals when they make too much noise. But he's smart, he says, he knows the other people might get mad. Yes, he uses the word "might," not "would," as if it was a mere possibility. So it doesn't really come as a surprise when the same attitude applies to the people at his own mercy, the people that get too close to you and end up dragged out to the woods. It's that same knowing dread in your gut, and while it horrifies you as much as it always has, you wouldn't have expected anything else. Maybe some people would feel bad about what they're doing, they would want to go ahead and get it over with, they couldn't take the begging and agony the other party is in... but not only is he totally unbothered, but if he kills him now, he says, the blood will go all over the ground, and that's bad, his lupical like eating the blood in things. So he just snaps the man's bones, that way he won't run away. It's hard to describe the excruciated noises that come out of the other's throat when he does. It's unlike any noise you've ever heard a human make, that kind of pain. The sweat that pours from the other's skin from the agony, the way his mouth hangs open even when he can't scream anymore, the trembling and muffled begging as he moves to the next limb. You tremble and cry. You shiver uncontrollably, you whimper for him to stop. Your eyes widen when he grabs each limb and you close your eyes and sob and grimace and cringe with the snapping sound. Razor, on the other hand, stays just as neutral as before. Face blank and empty, as if performing any other mundane task. He doesn't flinch at the snapping. His expression is unchanging at the sound of screams and the groans as he drags the still-living figure behind him by his shattered ankle all the way back home. When he finally goes to look back at you, he tilts his head at the look on your face. Why do you still look upset? There's no blood yet... isn't it blood that makes you upset? Maybe not? Maybe it's the sound that bothers you? Yeah, you flinch whenever the man groans in pain, so it must be the sounds of the dying things that you don't like, it annoys him too really. Ok, that can be fixed... sound comes from the throat right? Well, he left his claymore a ways away so, it'll just take a second, the guy is thrashing a bit but eventually he holds him still enough to get his teeth latched around his throat and just... bites down. The sound is a squelching, crunching sound, one that you'll never forget, it makes every hair on your body stand on end and your skin crawl. He pulls back with the mass of bleeding flesh and tracheal tissue in his jaws and spits it out on the ground. There, see...? You can see the blood on his teeth reflecting the light as he smiles. He's not making noises anymore, so... why do you still have that look on your face? Is it because the body on the ground is all... spasming and convulsing like that? Well, uh... that'll stop soon, probably. At least it's nice and quiet now. He gets it, really, he doesn't like loud noises either.

#tw: violence #.rz #q

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captainlevisteacup · 4 years ago

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Oooh, an idea has struck. The brothers reacting to Dom Male!MC reuniting with his childhood bestfriend in the Devildom, only their bestfriend is now a high ranking/powerful incubus who has a fuck ton of influence & money. (Not nearly as powerful as any of the brothers or Diavolo, of course, but you get the point)

And while normally a simple childhood friend wouldn’t be enough to bother the brothers, DM!MC’s Femboy CH!Bestfriend is the optimum of gorgeous, with a lithe & toned body and an “innocent” charm to him.

Spoiler Alert, CH!Bestfriend has been in love with DM!MC since they were kids (though it was just puppy love back then) and is determined to never let him get away from him again, resulting in him being extra clingy and needy.

Another Spoiler Alert, DM!MC’s childhood bestfriend may or may not be a mix of a “Worship” & “Self Sacrifice” Yandere.. (Look up “The Dere Types Wiki” if your confused)

You have some very interesting ideas😂 im so sorry this took so long, I didn't want to post it until I was back up to my full working capacity after getting injured and after breaking up with someone😁

Anyways, without further ado, here ya go😘

The Brother's Reactions to M! MC'S Yandere Childhood Incubus! Friend

Warnings: Violence, Language, Blood, VERY SLIGHT sexual themes, some non-consentual touching in Levi's section, brief mention of drugging in Beel's

Lucifer

At first, didn't think twice of MC having a childhood friend

But when he heard the word incubus

He got the smile on his face

You know the one

Lucifer "innocently" is around whenever the incubus is around

Its starts off small

Little poisoned glances from the incubus here and there

But eventually it escalated and turned into him putting a possessive arm around MC's waist

Lucifer snapped

The second the Incubus was alone, Lucifer followed him down an alley

Slammed that fucker against the wall and held him there by the throat

The incubus started laughing, even when Lucifer tightened his grip

"You'll never get rid of me. I have connections to everyone, Fallen Angel. I've loved him since before you even knew he existed, and a prissy peacock like you isnt gonna stop me from making him mine, even if I have to drug and kidnap him"

Lucifer only smiled and released him

The incubus smirked, daintily dusting off his lithe figure

Thinking he won, he shouldered his way past Lucifer

Only to stop short in horror

Deep growls greeted him

Lucifer didn't even bother hiding the screams of the incubus as Cerberus ripped into him

After a while, he signaled Cerberus to stop

As the incubus lies on the ground whimpering, Lucifer calmly says:

"Now that I've shown you just what I'm willing to do to protect MC, I'll make you a deal. MC cares about you, as a FRIEND. But his heart belongs to me and me alone, and mine belongs to him. If you can understand and respect that, I'll allow you near him. But one wrong word, one wrong placement of a hand, and I won't hesitate to finish you off myself. And believe me," he says with a dark chuckle "I won't be as gentle as Cerberus."

Mammon

This man immediately is on high alert

Someone trying to take what's HIS?

The incubus makes him more greedy than ever

Decides not to leave MC's side for a second

Even when he's sleeping

When Mammon can't help the incu-bitch (his nickname for the childhood friend) being around, he acts sort of like a child, which makes him look like a dick in comparison to the incubus's calm and innocent facade

Mammon tries to tell MC there's something up, but he just chalks it up to Mammon being Mammon

One day, MC randomly receives news from the human world that his mother contracted something contagious and was placed in ICU

The incu-bitch was, of course, right there when MC started tearing up, letting him cry into his shoulder

Mammon sees this and starts to protest

This leads MC to snap and tell Mammon he's being a child

Mammon leaves them be and thinks hard

Comes to the conclusion that maybe MC is right, and he begrudgingly decides to apologize to the incubus

As he approaches him, Mammon catches a glimpse of the Incubus's *expensive* phone

Unable to resist, he throws a coin against the wall in the opposite direction.

When he turns to look at the noise, Mammon snatches the phone and yeets off to his room

When he gets there, he opens the phone- no lock- and is startled by what he sees

A fake texting app, along with the messages telling MC his mother was sick

Mammon was about to run to find MC, when he heard a slight chuckle

Looking up, he saw the incubus...holding a knife

"You just couldn't stay away, could you? You've been a pain in the ass ever since I got here. But no matter, once MC sees how *cruel* you are to his defenseless childhood friend, he'll want nothing to do with you. And he'll be mine to fuck and own as I please."

Mammon gritted his teeth and ground out "Making MC think his mother was gravely ill just to get close to him when he's vulnerable? You're disgusting. I actually care about MC, and I respect them more than you ever will."

The incubus snorted, and raised the knife.

"Oi! What do ya think you're doing with that?" Mammon yelled

He raised the knife....and slashed it across his own arm

He then threw the knife towards Mammon, threw himself to the ground, and yelled out in pain

Suddenly, MC burst into the room

Mammon sputtered out a panicked explanation, but MC cut him off with a stare

He kneeled down next to his friend, who reached up with a bloody hand to cup MC'S face

MC put his hand over the incubus's....and sharply bent it backwards

He leaned down and whispered into his ear: "I heard everything, you little shit. Now, get the FUCK out of my house and away from my boyfriend, and don't even THINK of defiling my life with your presence ever again"

After he left, Mammon cautiously said "boyfriend, huh..?"

"Shut up mammon"

Levi

Oh, this won't do

Immediately feels threatened and triggered

He is the avatar of Envy, after all

His response?

Prove to MC nobody can know him as well as he can

He does this every single time the incubus is near

"MC, I got you your favorite drink!"

"MC, I ordered you some food. Don't worry, I already know what you like"

Flinches whenever the incu-bitch touches MC. It literally makes him cringe

His suspicions are confirmed when the incubus shoots Levi a malicious glance next time he touches MC

Levi snaps

Challenges the incubus to a video game duel

He surprisingly accepts

He cheats like hell and beats Levi

Levi goes into his demon form and rages

But MC thinks he's just being a sore loser

He tells Levi to back off and to go cool down

Once Levi storms off, the incu-bitch thanks MC for standing up for him

Then, he promptly tries to make a move on MC

He reaches out a hand to unbutton MC'S shirt

MC slaps his hand away, but not before noticing writing on the Incubus's hand

Before he can pull away, MC snatches his hand and sees cheat codes written on them

Gets super upset and tries to get up to apologize to Levi

The incubus pulls him back down by his wrist and pins them to the couch

"MC, don't you realize? You're all I want, all I need. I WORSHIP you, MC. And you're going to be mine. Nobody else can have you. And you're going to love me, whether you realize it right now or not. You'll learn with time to need me just as desperately as I need you"

Starts to take off MC'S clothes in spite of their fighting and protests, the incubus shushing him

"Shhhh, I know you don't see it, but this will make you see."

Levi slams open the door, tail lashing and face white with rage

"Get your normie hands the fuck off of my human. Now."

The incubus nopes the fuck out. He may be a high ranking incubus, but he still isn't as strong as one of the seven demon brothers.

Levi holds MC tightly as they fumble over an apology

"Shhh MC, its okay. I'm here now. Let's watch some anime and calm down together, yea?"

Satan

Do I even have to explain this one?

Is hostile as soon as MC even MENTIONS a childhood male friend, let alone an INCUBUS

Honestly, the Incubus is a bit scared of Satan

But, he decides he wants MC more than he fears Satan

So, he swallows his fear and patronizes Satan in tiny, unremarkable ways

Ways that would only be noticed by Satan

A stray hand here and there that lingers a LITTLE too long

Wiping a crumb from MC'S lips during a meal

Tucking a stray hair behind MC'S ear

Every last one of these actions makes his blood boil

It gets so bad that Satan is just in a perpetual state of rage, never leaving his demon form

Satan starts passive aggressively insulting the incubus's intelligence

"Oh, you mean you don't know how disestablishmentarianism impacted the overall congruence of Midwest society? Thats odd, its fairly simple. Practically common sense."

Is shocked when MC got livid at him, because he was being condescending for seemingly no reason

Starts to get angry at MC

"Can't you see? He's trying to turn you against me. Just LISTEN, DAMNIT!" He says as he grabs MC'S shoulders

The incubus barges in and shoves Satan away from MC

"Are you ok, MC? Did he hurt you?"

The amount of white hot rage in the room was tangible

He can't do it anymore

Slams the incubus against the wall

Knocks him to the ground

But when he falls down

A bunch of photos fall out of his jacket

Not normal photos

Horrifying ones

One of MC while he showers

One of MC sleeping

One of MC changing

Even one of MC and Satan having a steamy moment

MC goes still...and then SLAPS the shit out of the incubus.

He wordlessly turns to Satan, eyes pleading

"It would be my pleasure, MC" *evil grin*

Cue Satan dragging the incubus off by his hair

Asmo

P A S S I V E A G R E S S I V E

He sees this lovely incubus with NEARLY perfect hair, a lithe and toned body, and a seemingly innocent attitude, and he just wants him gone

He's been with plenty of Incubi, so he knows what they're like

Because of this, he doesn't want this one anywhere NEAR his darling MC

Comes up with a plan to use all his fashion design connections to outdress the incubus

He knows they're vain by nature, so he comes to the conclusion that this is the best course of action

But there's a problem

"Is that a statement piece from Priya Lacroix? She hasn't even released her collection yet"

Asmo.exe is not responding

He knows that HE is the only one Priya would ever give an early release to

So why does THE INCUBUS have her statement piece?

And WHERE is his phone?

Complains to MC, but MC doesn't take him seriously because he's too busy catching up with his friend

Asmo gets jealous and storms off to do a stress relieving skin routine

As MC and the incubus hang out, the incubus's phone goes off

Only...the ringtone is sinful indulgence

Mammon storms into the room

"AHA! I FOUND YA ASMO, YOU ANNOYING LITTLE- huh?"

"I/N? Why do you have Asmo's phone?"

"MC, you have to understand, I just want you to realize I'm the only right one for you. You NEED to realize you can't be with anyone else. Because you're mine, MC. You always have been."

Screeching could be heard in the distance, then footsteps quickly getting closer and closer

"THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY" Asmo yells as he slams open the door

"As if MC would choose a crusty, obsessive, STEALING, lying, probably STD having Incubus like you over me! Now give me my phone back and get out of here. And while you're at it, take off that Priya piece. There's a reason I'm the only one allowed early access."

Beel

Honestly doesn't think that much of it at first

He thinks its nice MC reunited with one of his childhood friends, and an Incubus at that

But when he meets the friend, something just feels off

He gets a weird sensation, and its not hunger

Its like his senses are on red alert

The incubus was nice enough to Beel, seemingly charming and genuine

But Beel couldn't help but feel rubbed the wrong way, with a sensation similar to seaweed against legs in the ocean

He doesn't want to mention this to MC, because he's convinced he's just overreacting

He feels a little sad that MC is too busy for him, but he does his best to give them time together

One night, he had made some food in the kitchen and decided to bring MC and I/N some

When he neared the door, he almost dropped the plate

He heard a loud thud, and MC saying "Hey, I said no, okay?"

He gently opened the door and looked at MC, who immediately forced a smile to his face

"Hey MC, I brought you guys some food. Is everything ok?"

"Thanks Beel, that's sweet of you. Everything's fine, I promise"

Beel relaxed a bit, although he still knew something was off.

The incubus excused himself to use the restroom, encouraging MC to eat without him

Beel and MC sat down, and Beel scarfed down his portion

Chuckling, MC offered his plate to Beel, who gladly accepted

The incubus opened the door shortly after with an expectant look on his face, as well as rope and a gag in his hands

Upon laying eyes on MC, a shocked expression came onto his face as his eyes darted between MC and the empty plate

"How are you still conscious?" He blurted

Confusion flashed across MC'S face. "What do you mean, I/N?"

"You drugged it, didn't you?" Beel spoke up.

"I thought it tasted odd," Beel continued "but I never would have guessed you would actually drug MC. I'm guessing you couldn't handle that MC rejected your advances, so you drugged the food while MC was distracted talking to me. Am I right?"

The incubus chuckled. "Guess I was wrong about you. You are more of a threat than you seem. Heh, I guess you're not just a talking stomach after all."

A loud smack could be heard shortly thereafter.

But the devastating blow didn't come from Beel

It came from an enraged MC

"Trying to drug me I could keep my cool over. If thats all you did I would have just told you to stay the hell away from me. But the SECOND you spoke to Beel like that, you signed your own death warrant."

Before he could react, MC summoned the brothers one by one, Beel explaining the situation.

"Well, MC, perfect timing as always. I was just beginning to get bored" Satan drawled

*screams*

Belphie

It takes a yandere to know one

Belphie doesn't want to alarm MC though, so he decides to outmaneuver the incubus without him noticing

It starts small, with I/N reaching out to put an arm over MC'S shoulder, and Belphie's arm already being there

Eventually, they start glaring daggers at each other the second MC looks away

After a while, Belphie decides to up the ante

Religiously falls asleep on MC when I/N is trying to spend time with him

Goads the incubus so much that he corners Belphie when he snaps and can't take any more

"Listen, I know exactly what you're doing. But if you think that YOU can take him away from me, you're sorely mistaken. MC is mine whether he likes it or not. And if it turns out to be the latter, well, let's just say he won't have much of a choice in the matter, nor will you have any control over it. Got that?"

Belphie does the one thing he knows will get the outcome he had painstakingly built up to the past couple weeks: he laughs

"Ah, you have a good sense of humor, know that? Funny stuff. All kidding aside, MC already belongs to me. So your child's play isn't gonna cut it. Got THAT?"

With a choked cry of fury, the incubus pulls out a knife and stabs Belphie

Belphie, having planned this, falls to the floor just as the door opens to reveal a shocked MC.

"BELPHIE! Shit, please be okay! What the FUCK is wrong with you, I/N?"

The stunned Incubus could only stammer out a couple words

"I- he...was gonna...tried to take what was mine. Tried to take you..."

MC laughed bitterly and shoved him to the floor.

"I don't know what sick world you're living in, but I belong to Belphie. I love him. And I hate YOU. Now I'll leave you be so you can deal with THAT. Ta ta." He says as he scoops up Belphie and heads out the door

"Deal with what?" I/N nervously asks after him, backing up warily

The incubus stops when his back hits something hard.

Gulping, he looks up...

"Hello, I/N, I'm Beel."

"Nice to...meet you? I imagine you're one of the brothers?" He replies shakily

Beel smiles. The light doesn't reach his eyes.

"Yes, I'm one of the brothers. You see, I'm Belphie's twin."

Across the house, Belphie smiles at the faint screams, MC curled up next to him after patching him up.

He succeeded in protecting what was his. He deserves a good nap. Holding MC tighter, he goes back to sleep.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #beel obey me #leviathanobeyme #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #yandere #yandere belphie #asmo obey me #obey me asks

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years ago

Note

Last one, I promise. MonsterHunter!Bucky or Steve where you’re the rare creature they’re after. You don’t have to write any of these, I just feel like you would appreciate these 💕 keep up the good work giorno, I’m so proud of you bb❤️

Thank you for your requests, hun! I haven’t worked on other ones, but I’m happy to present you this story 😌❤ Hope you’re going to like it!

Daughters of Persephone

Pairing: monster hunter!Steve Rogers x vampire!Reader

Warnings: yandere-ish Steve, kidnapping, death of minor characters, mentions of torture and suicide, gore (a severed head), general vampire stuff.

Words: 4109.

___________________

Suddenly waking up in the middle of the night, you fell down your bed, desperately trying to turn on the small lamp on your bedside table and reaching too far, soon ending on the cold floor. Trying to get up, you hit your head on the table and moaned. Saints, what on Earth was happening? You barely realized you were laying on the floor in the dark, but you knew for sure you were woken up by someone's agonized cry.

Who was that? The closest rooms to yours belonged to Iriya and Alice since mother lived in the north wing in a room she once shared with her late husband. Who screamed? Was it Iriya? Why was she screaming in the middle of the night? Was it just a nightmare? You had no time to think, finally standing up and rushing to the door, abandoning the idea with the lights: window curtains in the corridor had never been kept closed, so you would be able to see something thanks to the moonlight.

Hurrying to the point you ran barefoot, shivering in the dark - the floors had always been cold despite mother doing her best with all those expensive carpets - you reached Iriya's room and banged on her door, hoping it was just a nightmare.

'Iri-"

Before you called her name, the door opened by itself, and you froze in fear: Iriya was always closing her door at night, explaining that it all started when drunk Alice mixed the rooms and then woke her up with her angry shouting. Why was the door open? Was it better to go find mother rather than go there all by yourself?

No. What if Iriya needed help right now? You couldn't risk it.

Nervously getting in, your fists clenched painfully, you peaked inside your sister's room only to find her beheaded, her body laying on her spacious bed, Iriya's head on the carpet with her face caked in blood, her mouth open as if she was still screaming, pleading for help. Despite total darkness, you could see the white bedsheets soaked in her blood, the rich crimson fluid seeping through the fabric and dirtying the floor. You felt the bile rising in your throat, almost throwing up and barely containing yourself.

Iriya was dead. She was dead.

You were horrified to the point you could hardly move, your hands trembling as you wept, then getting on your knees and trying to reach out to Iriya's head but failing to do so - you didn’t have the courage to take her head in your hands, blood spreading further and almost reaching your long cream-colored nightgown Alice always mocked you for. You needed to run and find help. The murderer was still in the house, you were sure.

The thought of burglars breaking in had crossed your mind before, but you had never imagined some madman to get into your house and kill your poor older sister in such barbaric, horrible, revolting way, cutting her head off as if she was a character in some sick videogame. Why would anyone do this? How could they murder a harmless young woman sleeping in her bed?

You needed to get to Alice. The murderer could already be there.

Letting out a loud cry, you got back on your feet, hanging on to the large dark jacaranda drawer with nice thin metal legs - mother had it customized specially for Iriya on her 20th birthday. Thinking what would mother say once she saw her daughter with her head chopped off, you covered your mouth with your hand, unable to hold your tears. How could it happen? Who could commit such atrocity?

"Alice? Alice!" You could see the light coming from beneath her door.

Kicking it with all your force, you prepared for the worst, ready to jump at whoever you saw, but the only one there was Alice herself standing close to her desk. She was holding a revolver in her hands.

"Alice, Iriya-" You muttered, unable to say your sister was dead out loud and just pointing to the corridor with your shaking hand. "Iriya, she..."

"I know." Your other sister said through gritted teeth, her eyes still on the revolver she was holding. "It's not like I'm deaf."

You always had a hard time understanding her even when she was perfectly sober and in a good mood. Alice was strange: she reminded you of girls in Nirvana's music videos, either pretty angry or too energetic for you to keep up with her. She had been drinking as long as you could remember her, always silently protesting against mother's lifestyle and probably having a grudge against her and you. When you asked Iriya if you'd done something that upset her she just brushed it off, saying the youngest sister had always been a little monster in the family.

Now she looked like a monster, too.

"It wasn't you, right?" You whispered, holding your hands against your mouth. "You didn't do it to Iriya, did you?"

"Of course, I didn't!" She shouted angrily but shut her mouth as she saw you trembling, all of a sudden her expression guilty and grim. "Sorry, it's too late to explain. I don't have much time."

You nodded eagerly through tears, holding the door and ready to leave, "We need to run!"

You didn't miss a dark chuckle escaping Alice as she smiled at you bitterly, bringing the revolver's barrel to her head, her hand not shaking the slightest bit. "No. I've been waiting for this opportunity for a long time, and now is my chance."

Your head was spinning from shock and confusion. Iriya's chopped head, her bed full of blood, Alice pointing the gun at herself... Was everyone mad? Were you mad? Was it some nightmare you were seeing in your sleep? It felt damn real.

Seeing your horrified expression, your younger sister lifted the corners of her mouth, a broken smile on her face. "I'm sorry it turned out that way, but no one of us has been given a chance. This is how things have to end."

"Alice, please-"

"I have a full magazine. I know it sounds terrible, but after I'm done you have to shoot yourself, too. Believe me, it's the best you can do."

Before you opened your mouth to ask for an explanation and demand her to stop, Alice had pulled the trigger right in front of your eyes, blood and something that reminded you the insides of her brain smearing the wall to her left. While you screamed louder than you ever done in your entire life, her body landed on the floor with a loud thud, the left side of her head completely destroyed as you stared at the bloody mess, red liquid gushing out of the deep wound.

You felt like you were losing your sanity, crawling to her and cupping her head, unable to believe your eyes. She couldn't do it to herself. She has never seemed suicidal! What would she end herself like this? What did her words about some chance meant? Was it really her who cut off Iriya's head?

Wrapping your hands around her shoulders, you tried lifting her suddenly heavy body, crying and demanding your sister to stand up and stop pretending. It just couldn't be true. This madness couldn't be happening.

"Please, please!" You kept weeping, your nightgown soaked in her blood as her head laid on your lap. If body wasn't warm and heavy, you could believe it was all a nightmare, a frightening dream you saw, but Alice's empty eyes staring at you were making you painfully aware of your insane reality.

You cried so hard you missed the heavy steps of the intruder, realizing someone's here only when he opened the door and came in as if he weren't bothered by you screaming at all. It was a tall, wide-shouldered man in his thirties, his hair shining like gold in the bright light of Alice's room, a sharp blooded knife in his hand - the one he used to cut Iriya's head off. You reacted surprisingly fast, reaching out to revolver laying on the floor close to your sister's lifeless body, and tried shielding her as if it mattered, as if she didn't take her own life minutes ago. Your head was hurting, your thoughts mixed up: you barely understood what was happening, but you knew this man wasn't here to help, standing in the doorway with a stony expression on his handsome face while you pointed Alice's revolver at him, your hand shaking.

Who was he? What did he want from your family?

"Go away," you cried, hoping he wouldn't get closer. "Go away! You won't have her!"

You clenched the fabric of your sister's black tee, barely seeing the figure of the intruder as tears were making everything seem blurry.

The man was silent, staring at you with a blank expression as if he weren't interested in cutting off Alice's head and then murdering you, too. He made no attempts to come closer, although he didn't leave the room either, simply standing on his place and not moving an inch while you struggled to keep what remained of your sanity. Could you ask your mother for help? Should you yell so she'd hear you? Would it be better to challenge the murderer yourself since your mother certainly wasn't a super soldier to deal with someone like him? No, no, you couldn't shout to catch your mom's attention. Even if she'd hear you from the other side of the building, you couldn't let her end up just like your darling sisters. You needed to shoot the man.

But as you kept your gun aimed at him, you slowly realized you couldn't do it despite him clearly being a culprit of this madness. It just wasn't in you. You weren’t made to kill other people. Maybe that's why Alice told you to shoot yourself? Maybe she knew you couldn't protect anyone even if you had a gun in your hands?

"Please, don't touch her." You pleaded him, your hand aching from holding a heavy revolver for so long. "She didn't do anything bad. Please, please just go."

"On the contrary." The man suddenly said, and you froze on your place, frightened to the core. "She was the epitome of bad, but it wasn't her fault. Can’t blame the both of you for what your mother has done.”

“Mother?”

Looking at his blood-stained black pants and leather boots with dry blood on them, you opened your mouth but didn’t utter a word, watching his grotesquely big figure relaxing against the wooden frame, a silver cross hanging from his neck, drops of blood on the shining metal looking like dirt. Oh God. He didn’t do anything to mother, did he? He didn’t kill everyone in the mansion, did he?

Wailing like a wounded animal, you kept your gun aiming at the man, praying for him to just leave, vanish, let you call the ambulance and police, let anyone come and help you. What did he wanted? Money? Mother kept them in the bank like any other human being. Did he want her jewelry? Her collection of antique service? He didn’t have to kill your mother and Iriya for it, they would give him anything willingly if he didn’t hurt anyone. Who was this lunatic? Did he do something to Alice, too? He did, undoubtedly. She wouldn’t commit suicide just like that. She might have had issues with alcohol, but your younger sister had never been suicidal.

... however, well, considering you barely remembered what had happened before your fall from the bridge, she might have been.

“Sorry, little girl.” The man suddenly said, landing on the floor and dropping his knife as if he weren’t planning to attack you - you were much doubted it, though. “I know it’s not your fault. You’ve been for how long with the family? Around three months, correct?”

Still shielding the dead body of Alice with yours, you whispered, tears still falling down on your nightgown wet with your sister’s blood, “What are you saying?”

A dry chuckle escaped him as if he knew you were gonna reply exactly like you did, his left cheek resting against his hand caked in crimson fluid, but it didn’t seem to bother him much as he rubbed his skin with his dirty fingers, smearing the blood.

“I’m saying your darling mother adopted you when her second daughter had committed suicide just like Alice. Couldn’t stand what she had to do to stay alive after she was turned, you know?”

Gritting your teeth, you felt the rage raising deep within your chest: the bastard had the audacity to mock your family and you after he had probably killed everyone but you in the mansion. He probably tried to make you drop your revolver and finish you off as fast as he could and run before the police arrives - if anyone was going to come at all. You lived all by yourself with no one but a cleaning lady coming once a week to help you take care of the mansion; it was Friday evening, and people would start wondering why both Iriya and Alice stopped attending university only after a couple of days. Police will probably discover your bodies only when they start to rot.

Clenching the gun in your hand, you pointed it directly to the man’s head, ready to pull the trigger. If you were gonna die or lose your sanity tonight, you had to make sure you kill the murderer of your family before. You could do it. You had to!

“I won’t make it difficult for you.” The man said calmly, seemingly unafraid of your gun. “One day you woke up here with no memories whatsoever, and that creature played a role of your loving mom, saying how she’s scared about you after some incident has happened. She forbade you to leave the mansion because it was doctor’s orders purely for your own sake. Of course, she said something about a rare genetic decease and forced you to drink your medicine before every meal like your sisters, didn’t she?”

Yes. Yes, she did. Although she refused telling you what had happened to you, later Iriya confessed you jumped off the bridge because of some bastard you loved once you figured out he only dated you because of your mother’s money. Of course, they destroyed all your photos with him and anything he gave you so nothing would remind you of that despicable man. You didn’t question it. You didn’t question your mother’s decision to make you study at home just so she could keep an eye on you. It was reasonable: what mother would leave her daughter unattended after a suicide attempt? Naturally, you didn’t question her words about the genetic decease running in the family thanks to your blue blood ancestors marrying within a family. In the end, both your mother and sisters were taking the medicine every meal.

How did he know that? Was he spying on your family?

Oh. A silver cross, a knife made with something that look a lot like silver, cutting the heads off... this madman thought he was a vampire hunter. He was a lunatic who had murdered your family because he decided you were vampires!

“Are you mad?” You shouted angrily at him, unable to believe someone would go so far for something so stupid. “Do you think mom gave me blood, and I couldn’t figure it out?”

“You think she’d give you pure blood to make you freak out?” The man grinned at you, and you felt nauseated: he was fucking insane. “Of course, she didn’t. She diluted it for you and added some supplements, sweeteners and artificial flavors.”

“You lost your mind.”

“Huh, you wish, little one.” He cocked his head to the side and took off his cross, you raising your gun and almost firing it at his sudden movement, but the stranger did nothing else, throwing the cross closer to you. “If you doubt my words, just take it. It’s pure silver. Your mother didn’t stand it, did she? Probably said something about it bringing bad memories.”

Yes, she did, but thinking it was because she was a vampire who could burn herself with silver was ridiculous. What, now all women wearing gold were considered monsters?

“Why would I do that?” You said, your damp from tears cheeks finally becoming dry. “What if you put some chemical on it?”

“Then it would burn me, too.” Showing you his hand, he proudly demonstrated you his fingers that looked perfectly well.

Maybe you were really going mad, but you had touched the cross laying close to Alice's arm and immediately regretted it since it stung as if it was hot as a frying pan on the stove. What was that? Why did it hurt? Unable to believe it, you grasped it in your hand and cried out, dropping it and bringing your hand closer - a large burn was spreading out on your skin, bleeding on the floor, your blood mixing with your sister's. How did it happen? What was that?

"See? That what happens when a vampire touches silver," before you opened your mouth, the stranger continued, "and no, vampires aren't scared of sunlight or garlic, that stuff is straight from the novels."

Crying from pain, your hand shaking, you still didn't lower the revolver despite your other hand already starting to hurt from having something so heavy for a couple of minutes. No, it couldn’t be. He tricked you, surely. Vampires didn't exist! Besides, how would mother get so much blood to feed all of you? It's not like some truck was delivering you blood packs from the hospital every day! And, of course, you had never seen any other human being coming to the house other than a family doctor treating you and a cleaning lady. Where would the blood for your medicine come from?

"Your mother has a nice dungeon with a few iron maidens, little one."

Bullshit. It was all bullshit! Did he expect you to believe your kind, intelligent, loving mother who donated money for building a school in the village would kill innocent people? It was outrageous! From the day you woke up after the incident she had been nothing but a caring parent, always worried about your wellbeing and willing to give you everything you asked for. A week ago you joked about getting some super expensive haute couture dress for your graduation ceremony, and the next evening your mother invited you to her cabinet with her laptop open to show you the designers she found suitable to make you a dress. A woman like her just wasn’t build for murdering others.

The man snorted, “I can show it to you, actually.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” You whispered, your other hand now clenching the gun, too. “If you won’t leave, I will shoot you, and no jury would convict me after they found out you cut off Iriya’s head.”

“I wouldn’t be violent if I could neutralize her any other way, but Iriya had accepted her vampire nature a long time ago. Alice, on the other hand, ended her own life. I didn’t do anything to her; it was her own choice.”

“It’s a lie! If she really hated us all for being vampires, why didn’t she do anything? She had a gun, she could shoot us!” Desperate, you yelled at the man seemingly unfazed by your behavior and waiting calmly when you’d get back to your senses - if it was possible in a situation like this, your sister’s body long cold on the floor.

“I bet she wanted to, but, you see, Stockholm syndrome is a funny thing. After 5 years in the family she grew to love her mother and sister, this always happens at one point or the other. I think she probably loved and pitied you, too, since she couldn’t prevent her mother biting you.” There was no pity in his voice, but you could see something compassionate in the way he looked at you, a girl who had no idea who she had become or who she was before that, getting mixed up with dangerous creatures feeding off humans like cattle. “Bet she was scared of the mother, too. But when the opportunity presented itself, she decided it was enough and shoot herself before I came for her head.”

His words were scaring you because it was all making sense now: her addiction to alcohol mother could do nothing about even with all her money; that attitude of hers as Alice had always been unhappy and never agreed to anyone; her constant desire to be left alone and locking herself in her room...

“But why would mother bite us in the first place? What would she need daughters for?” Getting overprotective to prove all this wasn’t true, you asked him.

“All ancient vampires like your mother were human once. They have the need to reproduce as much as we do, but what they don’t have is a physical ability. So, at one point they want to adopt a human and turn them into a vampire, raising them like their own. I’d find it sweet if only they weren’t making more blood-sucking bastards killing people.”

“I DON’T KILL PEOPLE!”

Your deafening scream could probably be heard even in the garden, but you didn’t care, your aching hands gripping the revolver with 5 more bullets in it. You had done nothing wrong in your entire life! You didn’t hurt anyone! You didn’t break into someone’s house to cut off people’s heads! You were just a girl who had now have to live on her own after all your family was brutally murdered by some lunatic thinking you were vampires. It was him who was a true criminal, not you!

“Sorry, little one. I know you don’t, but it doesn’t change the fact you will have to sustain on human’s blood, and then I will have to take care of yo-”

Unable to listen to him anymore, you moved your hand a bit to the left, and the revolver fired, bullet getting into the wooden drawer, a poster with Alice’s favorite rock band hanging on it. “Just move once more and I’ll shoot you. I swear I’ll shoot you! Get out and leave me alone!”

But before you had time to react, the man had disappeared from your sight, and the next second you felt his hot hand on your throat, the other one forcefully taking a gun out of your arms as you screamed, crying and shaking beneath the stranger who felt even heavier on top of you than he looked. Why was this all happening to you? What have you done? Would he cut off your head just like Iriya’s?

“Mama! Mama!” You shouted, crying, his grip suffocating you. Knowing he would have no issues murdering you, you had nothing better but to plead for your mother’s help even though she had been most likely dead. “Mama, p-please... argh... hh... mama...”

If you could look into his face, tears not blurring your vision, you’d see Steve’s expression distorted with what seemed like guilt or maybe empathy when he was slowly, but surely making you lose consciousness, his knife laying on the floor far from you. Did you think he got pleasure from murdering little girls like you? Well, he might have been happy while killing the creature calling yourself your mother, but not the daughters, never the daughters.

You had finally fainted, your body now close to your sister’s. Unlike her, you were still alive, and watching your lay beneath him, unarmed and harmless in that nightgown covered in blood of your beloved ones, Steve thought he may have leave you alive - you really were new to the family, it couldn’t be more than 3 months since you had been bitten. Maybe there was something he could still do. He heard Tony found a way to stop the turning mid-way.

Anyway, keeping a pretty girl like you didn’t seem too bad. You certainly wouldn’t like waking up in his lair, but it was still better than ending up with your head cut off, wasn’t it?

Grabbing your revolver with a couple of silver bullets, Steve showed it into his pocket and carefully lifted you up, his knife in its sheath. Carrying you like a bride, both him and you drenched in blood, the man quickly disappeared in the corridor, heading to the dungeon beneath your mansion. His job was done.

_________________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @illyrianprincess @caffiend-queen @ninefuckingoneone

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #yandere #mcu #requests #mcu fanfiction

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skzleeknow12 · 3 years ago

Text

Final Escape - Lee Know

Warning: Yandere themes (I do not support yandere themes in reality, this is just for the story), mentions of blood and death

Word Count: Approximately 2.8k

…

He picked up her limp form and quickly ran into the woods, not stopping even when her weight somehow seemed to drag him down. She had a petite body, why did it suddenly weigh so much? After running for what felt like hours, he hid behind a large tree, knowing there was no way anyone would venture this far into the woods. Finally, it was just the two of them again, just as he liked.

Minho laid her blood-stained body onto the ground and took her hand in his, rubbing small circles onto the back of hers.

“You can wake up now,” he murmured softly, “no one will find us here. It’s only the two of us here, just how we like it. Open your eyes.” She remained still, not even breathing at a normal volume to show she was awake. Minho was getting impatient; she knew how much he hated being made to wait; so where had this sudden confidence come from that stopped her from listening to him.

“Get up,” he said once again, lightly shaking her arm. He decided he wouldn’t get angry just yet, he would wait for her to open her eyes first. Afterall, he knew she would end up listening to him. She loved him too much not to. However he was shocked to see that she hadn’t moved a single muscle since he laid her down. That was it; enough was enough. Minho held his hand in the air before harshly bringing it down to her cheek, causing the sound of the slap to echo in the quiet wooded area. Yet she did not stir. He slapped her again and again, but she gave no reaction. Her face remained deadly pale; even the force of his hand was not enough to cause a red imprint on her cheek. Minho realised with a start that she looked very similar to… a dead person. No, she couldn’t be dead. He loved her and she loved him, there was no way she would leave him like that.

Minho grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her wildly whilst shrieking her name brokenly, but it did nothing.

“WAKE UP!” he screamed as her head lolled to the side, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, looking eerily empty. “STOP PLAYING AROUND, OPEN YOUR EYES! LOOK AT ME!” He suddenly felt a weird texture coating her silky hair. Confused, Minho turned her body around so that her face was towards the ground. He gingerly felt the back of her hair when he caught the sudden stench of blood coming from it. He furrowed his eyebrows as the memories of the previous hours of that day came back to him.

“Minho where are we going?” she asked, fear evident in her tone as she glanced around the car nervously. Minho merely chuckled in a sinister manner as he kept one hand on the steering wheel whilst the other held her hand rather tightly, hurting her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in mock-confusion. “You’re the one who wanted to go out for a bit, so we’re going. Besides, I have a little surprise for you.” She couldn’t do anything apart from sit still in fear. The radio was on and Minho was happily humming to the familiar song. He didn’t look angry, quite the opposite actually, but she had a bad feeling about this. Minho seemed in a mood too good to be true. He had a smile on his face that to others would look charming, but she knew him well enough to know that the reason for it had to be something inhumane and gruesome.

She tried to think back to remember if she had done anything to make him angry, but nothing came to her mind. She had gone out shopping a few days ago with her friends and then in the evening she had dinner with them and the guys in a restaurant. She suddenly realised that she had forgotten to tell Minho that she was going out with her friends for her birthday. To be honest, she had assumed that, like every weekday, he would be coming home late so she didn’t think it was a problem. She remembered coming home a bit drunk but she couldn’t remember anything else, other than the fact that she could somehow smell her favourite meal cooking from the kitchen. She had been so exhausted though, that she had paid no attention to it and gone straight to bed, and she just realised as she was sitting in the car that Minho’s private studies light was on… meaning he had been home.

She grew increasingly tense, and if Minho noticed he didn’t let on that he had.

“Wait why are we here?” she asked suddenly. She realised that Minho was driving towards the edge of the woods where an old, abandoned warehouse was situated. Minho merely chuckled in response and didn’t reply, causing her to grab onto his arm without thinking. She was shocked at herself and immediately regretted her actions, knowing for sure she would get punished for her behaviour, but Minho just raised an eyebrow with an amused expression on his face.

“You’re getting bolder, love,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road, “a bit too bold for my liking.” She saw how his grip tightened on the wheel and she immediately let go of his arm, shrinking back in her seat. “Let’s talk about the sudden wave of disobedience that’s come over you, shall we? Like when you tried to escape me by going out for dinner with those excuses you call friends?” she felt her chest tighten with anxiety when she heard the tone of his voice, and mentally slapped herself for not telling him. Of course now he was bound to get the wrong idea. She decided to play dumb.

“W-what do you mean?” she stuttered, closing her eyes at her stupidity. “I d-did tell you I was gonna go for a bit.” Minho sighed deeply and she knew he was controlling his sure-to-come outburst.

“Then why are you stuttering, love?” he asked with an evil smirk plastered across his face. When she didn’t reply, he grew angry and banged his hand against the wheel, causing it to honk loudly. “ANSWER ME!” She remained silent and Minho rolled his eyes. “Were you really so desperate to see those boys and run away with them?” her eyes widened and she quickly shook her head at his wrong accusation, but to his corrupt brain, it looked as if she was getting defensive just because she had been caught. “DON’T LIE TO ME! WAS MY LOVE NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?” and as suddenly as his anger came it went, causing the car to go silent once more, which she knew was not a good sign. She turned her head to analyse his facial expressions, and was horrified when she saw a sadistic smile on his face as he kept his eyes on the road. “Don’t worry darling, you won’t get to try and run away with them again, I’ve made sure of it.” She tensed up and was visibly shaking due to fear of what Minho had done, and that made him satisfied, knowing what kind of effect he had on her.

They finally reached outside the old warehouse and the two got out of the car. Minho started walking towards the entrance of the warehouse and for a minute, she thought of running away before his cold voice stopped her.

“Don’t even think of running away love, you know I would eventually find you,” he said menacingly and she gulped because she knew he was right. There was no way he would rest until he found her, and it was with the thought of this that she followed him into the warehouse. It was eerily quiet and dark inside and there was a strange stench in the room, until Minho flipped the switch and the lights turned on. What she saw next made her want to puke.

In front of her was a long table filled with different food and desserts as well as a big birthday cake; it seemed like it was all for her. However, sitting on the chairs behind the table were none other than her friends she had met up with for her birthday, all bloodied and beaten and quite visibly dead. She gasped loudly and turned to look at Minho, who had his nose wrinkled in disgust as he looked at the sight in front of them.

“Disgusting,” he muttered under his breath as he grabbed her hand and led her forward, much to her horror, “making the birthday room smell already. Don’t worry love, we’ll leave as soon as we finish your birthday celebrations.”

“M-minho…” she mumbled as she fought the tears in her eyes. She could feel her breakfast coming up her throat and swallowed roughly. “What… what have you done?” Minho looked at her with fake confusion on his face.

“What do you mean love?” he asked innocently. “Don’t you like my surprise? I worked so hard on it.” She felt so horrified and disgusted that she had no idea what to even say to him.

“My friends…” she whispered as she looked at her friend’s dead bodies. Their faces were covered with blood and their throats had been slit, revealing all the blood and gore underneath the skin. Minho’s eyebrows furrowed with annoyance as he heard the worry in her tone for her pathetic friends. He knew that if it had been him in their place she wouldn’t have been upset at all.

“Ah yes, I see why these pathetic excuses for friends would ruin the mood a bit,” he said, mocking thoughtfulness. “Have a seat love, we can celebrate by ourselves-”

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?!” she suddenly screamed, making him pause in surprise; she had never raised her voice at him like this and it annoyed him even more that it was due to her friends. Even after their death they continued coming between the two. She walked towards him and started banging her fists against his chest, abundant tears running down her cheeks uncontrollably. “WHY? WHAT DID THEY DO THAT YOU HAD TO DO THIS? HUH? WHY DID YOU DO THIS?” Minho easily caught her two fists and threw her onto the floor, looking at her pathetically whimpering on the floor. He crouched down to her level and reached his hand out towards her face, lifting her chin so that they were maintaining eye contact. He ignored the way she flinched away from him and kept a tight hold on her chin.

“I did this,” he whispered sinisterly, “because they were taking you away from me. You even sneaked out to meet them without my permission, I had to do something. They won’t bother us now.” She cried harder at the truth of his last sentence; her friends wouldn’t be able to do anything anymore.

“They’re… my friends, Minho… I didn’t… sneak out… we just c-celebrated my… birthday,” she gasped between heavy sobs and for a second Minho had the tiniest bit of sympathy for her, until he realised she had just taken advantage of his love for her. It seemed he would have to punish her more severely. Clearly her last punishment of isolation in the basement wasn’t enough. But he couldn’t let her anticipate any kind of punishment, which was why with a heavy sigh, he got up and went to the table, grimacing as he looked at the dead people in front of him. He grabbed a plate and put a big slice of cake on it before bringing it to her. However, she just pushed it away harshly, causing him to roll his eyes in annoyance as he sat down in front of her. He grabbed her face with his one hand, causing her cheeks to squish together and open. He ignored her protests and put a big piece of the slice of cake into her mouth as she coughed and choked. He forced his fingers into her mouth, pushing the cake in even more until she had no choice but to obey and eat the cake. He smiled, pleased with himself as he gave the cake to her, and she had enough sense this time to just take it and eat it herself.

“It’s nice, right?” he asked, “I ordered and designed it myself.” She merely replied with a nod, too numb from crying to do anything else. Minho sighed for the umpteenth time whilst clicking his teeth together. He realised she wasn’t going to let him enjoy the “party”, so he stood up, pulling her up with him. “Let’s go home,” he said as he pulled her out through the doorway, not allowing her to give one last glance at her friends. That was when the warning signs started flashing in her brain; she couldn’t go home with him. There was no telling what he would do with her when they got back and she didn’t want to be trapped there again. She had to escape. Minho let go of her hand for one second and she took the opportunity and immediately started running away from him, mentally cursing her short legs for not taking her further. As she ran she looked over her shoulder and to her horror, she saw Minho just standing next to the car, staring at her whilst smiling.

“I’ll give you a head-start,” he called to her and she forced her legs to go faster, “and then I’ll come.” She immediately started sprinting faster, realising she was nearing the woods that marked the end of the city. However, now was not the time to be scared of the woods; she had to get away as soon as possible. But soon, she heard the sound of a car engine and when she turned around to look, she nearly fainted when she saw Minho getting increasingly closer to her in the car. The car was speeding up and she knew she wouldn’t be able to escape him. Finally with a frustrated and terrified shriek, she threw herself down onto the ground and she heard the car come to a stop. She hid her face as she heard his footsteps approach her. She felt him stand above her and felt sick as she heard him chuckling.

“You really thought you could escape me?” he asked amusedly and he leant down to yank her up by her hair, causing her to yelp loudly. His glare was hard and she immediately regretted giving up running away. “Get in the car, we’ll discuss this at home.” She hesitated before stubbornly shaking her head, unable to form any sentences. She would not go home, she couldn’t. He would kill her with his torture and punishments.

“What do you mean no?” he asked, teeth gritted as he shook her hard. She shook her head again and Minho pushed her backwards, causing her to stumble into a tree until she was pushed up against it. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her forward before smashing her back into the tree multiple times.

“ALL I HAVE DONE IS LOVED YOU AND YET YOU TRY TO RUN AWAY FROM ME?” he yelled as he carried on his actions, paying no attention to her pleas for him to stop, or the way her eyes rolled into the back of her head, or how her head suddenly slumped forward. He was fuming and he wasn’t paying attention to anything else. “YOU BELONG TO ME AND ONLY ME! YOU WILL COME HOME WITH ME, WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!” He let go of her and she slumped before falling to the ground harshly. Minho kicked her roughly before running his fingers through his hair frustratedly. He looked at the tree and for a second was shocked to see the red liquid dripping down it but disregarded it quickly as he looked at her form on the ground.

Minho gasped as he remembered the red liquid on the tree and realised that that was the exact place where he had hit her head against. He put his fingers on the back of her head and was terrified to find blood on his hands. He looked down at her face and noticed how all the colour had faded, how her lips were grey and crusty. He opened her eyes and saw how they were unfocused. He put his hand to her neck, trying to feel a pulse and screamed when he couldn’t find one. He grabbed her body and held her against himself tightly, as if that would stop her from leaving him forever. His grip was so tight and he cradled her against him as he pleaded for her to open her eyes, to not leave him. He screamed her name, but got no response. He would never get a response from her again. She had finally escaped him, forever.

A.N// Thank you for taking the time out for reading this :)

#stray kids #lee know #stray kids angst #yandere stray kids #lee know imagines #lee know fanfic

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baticorngirl · 3 years ago

Text

Title: “Dad, you’re embarrassing me!’

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationship(s): Talia Al Ghul/Bruce Wayne (Brutalia), Talia Al Ghul & Ra’s Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne & Ra’s Al Ghul, Dusan Al Ghul & Ra’s Al Ghul, Nyssa Raatko & Ra’s Al Ghul, Talia Al Ghul & Dusan Al Ghul,

Characters: Talia Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Ra’s Al Ghul, Nyssa Raatko, Dusan Al Ghul,

Summary: Bruce Wayne, an average (other than his parent's death) billionaire, was nervous. Very, very, nervous. It was a simple task, really, but meeting his girlfriend's family seemed rather intimidating at the moment. She has mentioned her father being strict or whatnot many times, and it had gotten many worries to arrive in his mind.

Unfortunately, Bruce had every right to be worried.

A/N: I don't own the characters, DC does.

This fic was originally made (or at least started) for @brutalia-week Day 4: Family. Since I wasn't able to finished it in time, I tried to make it a "day 8" kind of thing.... although I'm a teeny bit late for that, too, lol. It was originally just supposed to be a short humor fanfic, but... let's just say it got out of hand. Fair warning that some of the characters may be a teeny bit OOC (nothing too bad, though) because of humor or just plot-convenience.

For context, this takes place in an alternate universe where Bruce doesn't become Batman, but that's the only big difference. Anyway, enjoy!

Related Links: Read it on FF.Net (x), Read it on Ao3(x),

Day 1(x), Day 2(x), Day 3(x), Day 5(x), Day 6(x), Day 7(x),

______________________________________________________

Bruce was uncomfortable. His tie felt itchy, and hot, like a fever that somehow didn't spread to his forehead. In fact, his whole body felt hot, and the tiniest bit shaky. Bruce's stomach twisted up in a knot, making his face turn visibly red with discomfort. His breathing was a bit quicker and shorter than normal. He was nervous. Very, very, nervous. But considering the situation, he had every right to be.

Talia and him had been dating for quite a while now. Over 6 months, actually. They met up when they could, and every time they went on a date, they started enjoying each other's company more, and more, and more. Talia often had things she needed to do, though, and they would often come up out of what seemed to be nowhere. She'd always say she just had an assignment from work of some kind, but it often occurred to Bruce that she never mentioned what she did as a profession.

Perhaps, today would be the day he found out. Now that their relationship was feeling more serious, Talia had finally decided she would introduce her boyfriend to her parents, and the rest of her family. It had taken some convincing for her to do it, but her father had been adamant that meeting and evaluating any of her potential husbands was necessary.

"What if they're not worthy?" He had insisted, pacing back and forth in urgency. "What if they plan to spy on you, or hurt you, or are simply a failure? Besides, my Dear Daughter, what's the issue with him meeting us? Please, tell me you're not seriously acting embarrassed of your own family at this age." Ra's stopped to look at her, a disappointed look on his face.

"I-" Talia hadn't wanted to upset him, or even worse, make her view her as immature. She sighed, "Fine, but please…. try to stay calm with him. Be understanding if he's not quite up to your qualifications of worthy, and…. Just try not to kill him, okay? You can be very overwhelming, and although he's a very nice man, he's not used to murderers." She had tried to put it lightly, but truthfully, she wanted to yell the list of commands in his face. It was ridiculous -absolute ludicrous- that she had to tell him such simple things.

"Of course, Daughter. Whatever makes you most comfortable." Ra's smiled at her, and leaned in to kiss the top of her head affectionately. Yet again, she was reminded by why she had spared his feelings, but quickly forgot it as he spoke again. "But you can't truly expect me to hide my whole personality, can you? I'll try to make sure there's minimal stabbing at the family dinner that night, but you can only expect so much of me."

Talia had stared at him, with her eyes squinted with concern, but she pushed a smile on her face regardless. "J- Just do your best, Father. Thank you." The minute she had gotten out of the room, though, her smile immediately dropped. She let out a huge, tired, sigh. She loved her family, but sometimes she just wished they could hold their murderous instincts in for a moment.

Now, as her and Bruce inched towards the door, Talia felt that wish more than she ever had before. Even if Bruce was nervous, thinking of the times Talia had mentioned her Father being strict, controlling, and painfully traditional, he was nothing compared to Talia. She flinched every few moments. Her every instinct told her to lead Bruce away, to come up with an excuse, but it was too late now. She gulped. Maybe, if she had the best luck in the world, her father would only talk about his Endangered-Species-Saving Programs, and not his Murder-Most-Humans program.

But when Bruce looked down at her, he felt a sense of excitement. He surely hadn't heard the best things from Talia about her family, but if they have raised someone as wonderful as Talia, he was sure they couldn't be too bad. He knew they may not have the most similarities, but wasn't caring about Talia the most important similarity of all?

Despite his slight optimism, inside the Al Ghul house, not everyone was on their best behavior. Screams echoed through the dining room as everyone got settled down. Nyssa and Ra's, specifically, were the ones having the heated argument. Heated arguments were not uncommon for them, so much that no one had any clue why she was even invited to the family dinners. She didn't even consider herself part of that family, but Ra's was convinced that it was such a special moment, no one could miss it. His little girl has her first boyfriend! Inevitably, he lived to regret this decision.

"You're a dirty excuse for a father, Ra's! You left me to fend for myself when I needed you most!" Nyssa yelled, standing up from her chair. Her breath was heavy with rage. "You should be ashamed of yourself!" She quickly picked up her fork, throwing it as hard as she could in Ra's' face.

"No, you should be ashamed of yourself! You're the one that betrayed me, before I had done a thing to you!" Ra's screamed back, throwing the fork aside. Fortunately for Ra's, the fork hadn't done any damage. He quickly pulled himself out of his seat to balance the dominance in their positions. "Everything that happened was your own fault, so stop pushing the blame on to me just because I blatantly decided you weren't worth saving from torture!" Unaware of how bad that sounded, he picked up the fork again and threw it back at her.

They continued throwing things at each other, screaming endlessly. The danger of the things thrown escalated as they went. At first it was simply things like forks and spoons, things that wouldn't do too much damage. But it started getting worse, and worse…..

Outside, at least Bruce was getting some kind of a warning. Talia stopped him just before he opened the door, turning him to face her. She stared at him, a glint of dead seriousness in her eyes.

"Beloved, you are not ready to meet my family. You never will be. They're a lot to deal with." She warned. Talia's hands gripped his shoulders even harder than a villain does when threatening a hero. "Every single one of my family members is weird. Very, very weird. A bit absurd, even. Albeit a nice guy, you're also only a simple billionaire, so it's definitely going to get on your nerves. They even get on my nerves, they-"

Bruce gently tugged her arms off of her, "Talia, I can handle it. I'm not a judgemental guy, I swear. It's fine if they're a little weird." His face rested in a blank, -but more importantly, not a horrified or angry- expression. "Come on, let's go inside. They're probably waiting for us." He pointed towards the door, beginning to open it. Talia, still frazzled, immediately swung her arms over to stop him from opening it.

"Please, Beloved, you don't understand! It's not a difference in culture, tastes, or even opinions! I swear on my life… they're crazy." She stared into his eyes. Her pupils were huge, and her hands were shaky as she held him back. "I don't care if you don't believe me, but just… promise you won't blame me for them?" Talia looked down desperately. Her words slowed for a moment.

"Of course," Bruce nodded, but before she could even communicate her gratitude, he abruptly swung the door open. "I've told you a million times, though, I'm sure I won't even be blaming them! You're worr-" The second he took his eyes off of Talia, and on to the room in front of them, his mouth dropped. Every word he said about it being fine was regretted almost immediately. It was so very, very, not fine.

Bruce had looked just quick enough to see Nyssa cross a final line with the throwing… a full, sharp, assassin knife. It shot directly into, and right through, Ra's' guts. Blood dripped down his stomach area and onto his shirt and cape. Ra's looked down at the injury for a moment, before quickly realizing that Talia and her boyfriend had officially arrived.

"Look what you've done now, Nyssa!" Ra's scolded, pointing to Bruce angrily. "Our guest has arrived, and you've done this right in front of him! Look at him, so startled at your audacity to stab me that he can't seem to speak…. Congratulations, you've embarrassed the whole family!" Bruce couldn't seem to listen to Ra's, with his eyes stuck on his stomach. Blood kept spilling out of it, yet Ra's hardly seemed to mind.

"...Are you okay?" Bruce took a slow, hesitant step towards the dinner table. His eyes were as wide as he thought they could go. "Shouldn't someone call an ambulance? You're bleeding out!" With the pure shock of it all starting to fade, he whipped out his phone and started navigating to the dialer.

Now dripping even more blood on the ground, Ra's pranced over to the front door to greet Bruce. "No, no, no! Don't mind my other daughter's ill manors. She's never well-behaved anymore, I'm afraid. But you're the guest, you shouldn't worry about this. Just sit down and relax." He led Bruce over to his seat, nudging him to sit down onto it. Ra's turned his stomach away from the chair to be sure he didn't get any little drops of blood on it. As he made his way back to his own seat, he gestured towards his stab wound. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to have to get changed and cleaned up. I'm afraid this stab wound has created quite a mess."

Still recovering from the shock of the stabbing, Bruce attempted to reason with him, "But don't you need to get medica-" Before he could even finish his sentence, though, Ra's was already out of the room and down the hallway. As hard as Ra's had tried to keep the floor from too much damage, there were still drips of blood every few feet. Bruce considered following them to make sure he was okay, but quickly realized that with all the servants here, at least one person would help.

Talia sat down next to him, surprisingly unstartled by her own father's stabbing, "Try not to worry too much about it, Beloved. This happens a lot -sometimes even ending in the opposite- and as you can see, it has never resulted in his -or even Nyssa's- death. Oh, and don't worry for your own life, the stabbing is very personal. I doubt Nyssa thinks you have enough of a connection with him to be worth hurting." She explained matter-of-factly. Her hand gently reached over to pat his hand, in an attempt to sooth him.

"Okay… I just, I don't want you to lose him. I don't want you to feel the same pain of losing your parents as I did…" His voice quivered at the thought of his own parent's tragic murder. Talia nodded, understanding his pain, but in no way attempting to agree with him.

"As I've said before, don't worry. I'm afraid my mother already died when I was a child, and her death frightened me, but him? No, no, no, he's quite the survivor. He's survived so many ridiculous situations, in fact, I believe he's practically immortal!" She exclaimed the strong statement, seeming a bit excited, but not quite cheerful. Seeing the statement as a casual joke, Bruce laughed nervously. Talia did not laugh with him, though. To his discomfort, she stared at him, just as dead-serious as she was with her original warning.

The sound of her father's pattering footsteps knocked them both out of their odd conversation. Ra's entered the room, his blood now nowhere in sight. Despite how formal the arrangement was supposed to be, he was shirtless. A new shirt, looking very similar to the one he was wearing when Bruce arrived, was tucked under his arm.

As Ra's started pulling the shirt on, Bruce noticed something. The place where the stab wound had been just a moment ago was perfectly visible, with no clothes covering it, and yet it just… wasn't there anymore. Certainly no blood, but not even any bandages, or any kind of scar! The only thing in the victim's gut area was skin. Pure, undamaged, skin. Talia's family was starting to seriously freak Bruce out.

Once Ra's had gotten his upper-half dressed, he promptly began making his more formal greeting to Bruce, "I'm afraid, with all that chaos, I never got the chance to introduce myself! I'm Ra's Al Ghul, Talia's father. You can call me Ra's…. At least as long as I haven't found you unworthy of casual nicknames." He narrowed his eyes, scaring away any joy in Bruce for the moment. "...And you are…? I'm afraid I don't think Talia's mentioned your name."

"I'm Bruce… um, Bruce Wayne." Bruce stuttered, trying to shake away the strong sense of uncomfort Ra's was starting to give him. Ra's smiled politely, and shook his hand.

"Welcome to our home, Bruce… Or Mr. Wayne, whatever you prefer to be called." He gestured to the grand mansion they were having dinner in. Having had enough of leaning over to be eye-to-eye with Bruce, he slumped back down onto his chair. His grand, collared, cape got thrown back in the process.

"..Bruce is fine," Bruce answered, still a bit nervous. Ra's nodded at him. Surrounded by a thick layer of eyeliner, his eyes seemed to stare into Bruce's soul. Bruce hated to judge someone for their clothing style, but the way Ra's dressed was certainly off for a meet-the-family type dinner. In fact, with the gold button on his cloak looking eerily like a demon's face, he was practically dressed like a supervillain.

Everyone began eating the food in peace. Nyssa did not try to stab anyone during that time, and neither did Ra's. It was pure silence at the dinner table, with everyone focusing purely on their plates instead of making conversation. Eventually, Ra's finally brought his head up from it and started speaking to Bruce.

"So… You want to marry my daughter?" Ra's asked, looking at Bruce sternly. His eyes carefully moved up and down, evaluating every single part of Bruce to see how worthy it was. He squinted at Bruce's jacket, his shoes, his expression… everything. As much as Bruce tried to seem calm and collected for Ra's, both the sudden assumption of marriage and the intense staring were only making him feel subconscious.

Fortunately, Talia immediately cleared it up, "We haven't even spoken about marriage yet, Father! Please, you're going to overwhelm him. Didn't I already tell you not to do this?" She pleaded. Talia gulped, just as she had been doing consecutively for this entire dinner. Watching her father act this way always felt a bit off, but having her boyfriend there just made it so much worse. She could easily feel what Bruce was feeling, -or at least what she thought he was- and she knew it was far from positive. Talia looked back down at her plate, hiding her face as it turned bright red. She didn't think she'd ever felt quite this embarrassed in her entire life.

"I apologize, but you do realize, Talia, that if you ever want your relationship to go anywhere you must marry him at some point. How long have you two been dating, again?" Ra's looked back at Bruce, waiting for him to finally speak for himself.

Bruce took a deep breath, "Somewhere around 6 months? Or possibly 7, it's hard to get it exact." Ra's raised an eyebrow at the number.

"You two… have not even been thinking about marriage yet? Let me tell you, every single one of my marriages has always started with a month -at most- of prior dating, and I have had at least one perfectly good marriage. You all remember Sora, may she rest in peace, and we had the happiest of marriages. Yet, we married out of convenience! We hardly knew each other! Sometimes, you young ones must just let-" Ra's rambled, only to be cut off by Talia sighing. The gush of air was so loud and obviously exasperated that it completely cut off his story. After a second or two of silence, he continued despite it, "As I was saying, sometimes you young ones need to understand that dating isn't going to secure a marriage. A good attitude will! Both Sora and I had a good attitude, and she managed to be the light of my life. But of course, that only lasted so-"

This time, Talia simply used her words to stop him, "-So long because she got strangled to death in front of your eyes. We all know, Father, and frankly I don't think Bruce needs to know your life story. Why can't we just talk about something a bit more.. Conventional? We already talk about murder and death so much, can't we just lighten up a bit?" She begged, biting her lip uncomfortably. Her eyes looked at Ra's softly, almost as if she was attempting to do puppy eyes.

"Fine, fine, I really should get to the point, anyhow. We must tell if he is worthy enough to even date you! Only the finest in the lands are worthy of you, my darling, and so far I doubt he's up to that standard." Ra's scoffed, and Bruce couldn't help but roll his eyes in return. Talia looked down again, rubbing her temples. She was just about ready to fall asleep on her father's nonsense. "Hmmm…." Not paying any attention to his daughter's misery, he stared into Bruce's eyes for what must have been the fifth time.

"He's…. Very….. Wealthy…." Talia stated. Each word was separated by a ton of sighs, groans, and deep breaths of frustration. Even as she spoke to her father, she kept her eyes locked down on her plate, in a painful stare. Ra's rested his chin on his hand as he considered her words. He looked side to side, while tilting his head every which way in correspondence.

"Well… I suppose a bit of extra money surely isn't hurting his worthiness." Ra's titled his head one last time, glancing up at Bruce from a different angle. Slowly, he adjusted his head back to normal. His arms were lightly touching down on the table, propping up his hands to wrap their fingers in between the other one. Ra's leaned forward, with his face now less than a foot in front of his hands. "But… you can already get as much of that as you'd ever possibly need from me. Worthiness, you see, is about much more than that. It's about the intelligence. The skill. The strength. The willpower…. The grace." His index fingers, now pointing up from the rest of his hands, tapped against each other. Each tap was methodical, rhythmic… like the ticking of a clock, clacking each second away.

Bruce felt a cold, thick, drop of sweat roll down his forehead, "I… I once took an IQ test. Mine is… higher than normal. Quite a bit higher, I believe." He picked up his napkin and quickly wiped the sweat off, attempting to push a smile onto his face. Or, just some sign of confidence, at the very least. Unfortunately, he was just a billionaire -and not a very emotionally-mature billionaire at that- so it wasn't exactly helping his case.

"Good. That's very good…." Ra's nodded approvingly. His index fingers tapped together again each time his head bopped up and down. Finally looking up from her plate, Talia started to smile, a glint of hope in her eyes. "But if you really have such an impressive intelligence quotient, you better start acting like it. Hit it where it really counts, not just some meaningless quiz. If you want to receive my daughter's hand in marriage, you will prove yourself worthy of such a thing in real life." His head's nodding quickly came to a stop.

Talia sighed again, but didn't even try to bother stopping it. Her mind was much more focused on the worse tests she reckoned would come after… the ones her beloved, as wonderful and skilled as he was, was still bound to fail. She glanced up at Bruce, noticing how wet his forehead looked. Her warnings had not done a thing, as even now, he was acting as if this was a big problem in comparison to the other thing her father most valued.

As she silently brooded, Ra's began to start his opportunity for Bruce to prove his intelligence, "Bring. It. In!" His voice boomed through the room as he looked at his assassins servants expectantly. To his dismay, they all simply stared at him, waiting for some more clarification. Their eyes blinked unknowingly. Ra's cringed at his servant's lack of understanding. "I said, bring. It. In!" Yet again, he got nothing brought in at all. A long, exasperated sigh, -almost as heavy as Talia's had been all night- escaped his mouth.

One of the servants, still unsure what to do but eager to help, went over and stood by his side. The servant bowed, but didn't dare ask for clarification. Not wanting to anger the master, the servant made sure to be patient and let Ra's have time to explain himself.

Ra's turned directly towards the closest servant, looking him in the eyes desperately, "You know, it. The thing. The one you should be bringing in right now. Whipping up out of nowhere." The servant nodded, but continued to wait for even more of an explanation. Ra's waved his hand in front of the person, unsure if they were even listening. "Come on! Get to it! Bring. IT. IN….. Ah, forget it! I was really hoping I wasn't going to have to ruin the suspense and the drama like this, but the chess board! The one I always pull out dramatically when attempting to test whether I should respect someone! The grand assessment!"

"Ohhhhh…." The servant slowly nodded. They spun on their heels, beginning to make their way off to get the chess board. Every breath Ra's took was long and agitated, gushing out like the wind as he watched the servant disappear into the next room.

He turned back towards Bruce, "I apologize for that mishap. It seems I really should just keep my chess board nearby in these kinds of situations, but I promise you, my assassins did say they'd have it handy." He scoffed at their incompetence. Bruce, on the other hand, was a bit more focused on another thing. He stared at Ra's, his eyebrows furrowing.

If this family wasn't already freaking him out, they certainly were now, "A… Assassi-?!"

But before he even got to finish expressing his frantic confusion, Ra's quickly interrupted him. These 'assassins' of his were back, now with the chessboard that he desired so badly. Ra's rapidly swiped the chessboard out of their hands and slapped it down in front of the two of them.

"Finally, we can begin!" He exclaimed, a tint of annoyance still in his voice. He turned back towards his assassins for a moment, gritting his teeth. "We'll talk about this whole 'ruining my drama' thing later. All of you." Ra's pointed at his own two eyes with two of his fingers, and then pointed the fingers back down on the League of Assassins members.

"And I think we need to talk about this whole assassi-!?" Still more focused on the other matter at hand, he persisted in attempting to get some kind of explanation. But yet again, Ra's was simply not listening.

"You may go first. It's only fair that the guest gets privileges. Besides, I think you'll need every advantage you can get when playing with someone who's been playing this game for centuries." Ra's pointed to Bruce's end of the board, waiting. Bruce's lips quivered as he stared at it. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Ra's folded his hands together calmly. "Go on,"

Bruce chuckled nervously, "You're exaggerating… right?" His finger slowly inched towards the board as he thought about his first move. It was a strategy game, and Bruce was good at such games, but the claims Ra's was stating were more than intimidating. He bit his tongue, thinking back to all the games he'd won against Alfred.

"Exaggerating? Oh, hardly." Ra's shrugged, "You see, young man, this game has been going on far beyond even an old man like me's lifetime. I've been playing it for a long time, and I haven't gotten bored. But I have, as a matter of fact, learned many, many, strategies. I'd find it incredible for this to even last more than 30 minutes before you lose." Bruce leaned towards the board in concentration, attempting to ignore the chills running down his spine.

After what felt like forever of them playing chess, Talia finally saw an ending as she looked at the chess board. All of Bruce's pieces were blocked, in some way or another. She sighed in relief. Not only was this game not going to last forever, but her boyfriend wasn't even going to lose.

"It seems we've ended with a stalemate…" Ra's grinned at the outcome. He pulled out a clipboard from under the table, scribbling down the points this gave Bruce. Quickly tucking the clipboard back under the table, a look of awe sparkled in his eyes. "This is… incredible. Quite entertaining, actually! I haven't had a good opponent like this in years! Decades, even… if not centuries!" Bruce smirked, a sense of confidence raining over him. Talia rolled her eyes. She had certainly stalemated with Ra's at least once.

"Good, but now, can we please focus back on the fact that you called these… people around us... assassins?!" Bruce shook off the pride as he finally remembered the eerie mention. Talia's face flopped back down to face her plate. Her breaths were thin and short as she held back the urge to stand up and run straight out of this embarrassment.

"I did, didn't I...? Is that a problem? Did I offend you with that term?" Her father's voice rose. Despite the innocent questions, he fought back the urge to roll his eyes or scoff yet again in annoyance. "Would you prefer them to be called ninjas, murderers, or simply 'the people around us'? …..You're the guest."

"Murdere-?!" Bruce leaned back, unsure how to even say such a terrifying word. His mouth dropped open as his eyes anxiously darted back and forth. "These people are really… actual….." Talia reached over to Bruce, squeezing his hand.

"Are you alright, Beloved?" Talia asked. Her hand was warm, or possibly even a bit fever-ish to the touch. As was her cheeks, so very red with nerves. Bruce stared at her face, observing the not only embarrassed, but almost shameful expression smeared across it. A thought suddenly occurred to him… a quite unnerving, but eerily plausible one.

Bruce sighed, "...yes," He muttered through gritted teeth. Talia's shoulders slouched down, feeling her tense muscles relax at the reassurance. Bruce turned back towards Ra's, pouting his lip in a disapproving frown. "But… I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to. Let's get on with it, Ra's." Talia's muscles tensed right back up.

"Very well then, young man," Ra's aggressively shoved the chess board to the side. He pushed himself up from his seat, pulling out a sword that he had apparently been hiding in his pockets. "The next test is all about your ability to fight. Not only do I expect you to protect my daughter if the need comes up, but you also must be capable of winning wars if you want to win my daughter's love."

Talia pulled herself up from her seat, as well, "He already has my love, though, Father! No offense, but your tests and evaluations are all for yourself, and yourself only. We've already dated for long enough that it's ridiculous to act as if we aren't already in a romantic relationship." She crossed her arms, starting to get seriously fed up with her father's absurd behavior.

"Yes, yes, of course. But if you want me to treat you as my son-in-law, much less, my equal, you need to complete this test. It's about the respect! You've already shown competence in a battle of wits, now you must show you are just as skilled in physical battles for me to respect you." Ra's pointed his sword towards Bruce, making a stabbing motion towards the air. Bruce flinched as the sharp blade reached towards his chest. "Go on, get your blade out. This may not be a duel to the death -since Talia did go out of her way to make me promise I wouldn't stab you- but it's still a battle that you need to be prepared for."

"My… blade?" Bruce raised one of his eyebrows in confusion. He shook his head and squinted his eyes at Ra's. "I was just trying to go to a formal dinner, to meet my girlfriend's family. Why. Would. I. Have. a. Sword. With. Me?!" After having to listen to Ra's constantly scoff throughout the dinner, he finally managed to gather the courage to scoff back.

"You must always be prepared, young man. Always. You are obviously immature. You know strategies, but you lack the true wisdom to use them properly. But, I suppose that is only to be expected with your young age, so…. I will still give you a chance." Ra's slid his sword back into his pocket. His lips rested in a strict frown, but began to curve up ever so slightly for a moment. "Besides, you already stale-mated me. I love a good stalemate! I can't believe I found someone who could achieve such an outcome! You're wonderful, Bruce. Just wonderful… Assassins, get him a sword!"

Bruce could only stare as a woman, dressed in all black attire, handed him her sword. He opened his mouth to reject it, but only a small, frantic, l uttering sound sputtered out. Everyone, including Talia, Nyssa, the assassins, and a man who's name hadn't been mentioned yet, stepped back, leaving Bruce and Ra's alone. Bruce slowly wrapped his hands around the handle of his weapon, still adjusting to the odd feeling of holding such a sharp object in his hand. By the time he realized what was happening around him, it was much too late to eat his last bite of food.

In fact, it was too late to even stretch before the battle. Ra's, who was seemingly having enough of Bruce's shock, was already lunging over. His sword slashed at Bruce's. With Bruce's fingers barely even holding on to it, Bruce's sword immediately got flung to the ground upon feeling any kind of impact.

Clang! The metal blade chimed as it hit the hard floor. The sound instantaneously knocked Ra's out of his intense battle-focus. His teeth were not gritted anymore, and his eyes widened from their stern glaring. He looked down at the stray weapon, then back up to Bruce. Now realizing what had happened, Bruce's face turned red. A tiny spray of sweat appeared on his forehead as he looked down with embarrassment.

"With all due respect, I have never had a weaker or less skillful opponent." Ra's blinked at the pathetic sight, shaking his head. He bent down to the ground and picked up the sword. The woman who it belonged to eagerly reached out to take it from him. Ra's turned back towards Bruce, who gulped as he saw the disappointment in his eyes. "I suppose I should've expected this kind of thing from such an average billionaire, although that chess game had sure gotten me hopeful. I mean god, was that a good game!" Ra's mumbled, holding back a smile.

Bruce sighed, "Let me guess, you want me to never date or even speak to your daughter again." He looked back at Talia, his shoulders slumping at the thought of leaving someone so lovely. But almost just as quickly, his shoulders pulled back up again. "Because if I may just say, this is completely unwarranted! You could've at least given me a warning about this nonsense…"

"You.. have a point." Ra's nodded, "Which is why I haven't completely ruled you out. That chess game still proves your utter excellency in nature, so perhaps it is rather cruel to blame you for this one time. But-"

Out of pure instinct, Bruce punched Ra's in the gut and kicked him to the floor. Ra's quickly jumped back up and dusted himself off, hardly bothered physically. But mentally, he was shocked. Talia ran to her father's side to make sure he was alright.

"Why would you do that, Beloved?" She yelled at Bruce. With Ra's obviously unarmed, she took a step towards her boyfriend. "You already weren't doing very well on his evaluations, so how do you think attacking him is going to help you?"

"I've proved I can defeat him." Bruce narrowed his eyes, still confident in his reckless behavior. Talia sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "He was doubting my ability to fight, but I've proved that I'm perfectly capable of throwing a punch or two. Since he's so obsessed with my fighting, it should help me be 'worthy' or whatnot." He crossed his arms.

Ra's rested his forehead against his hand, facepalming, "Yes, you got me on the ground for a bit, but at what cost? Ambushing may be a great strategy, and I already admitted you knew many strategies, but what kind of true warrior would use it on his own friend!?" He snapped. His large boots rattled as he stomped his foot on the ground. "A little agitation and frustration towards me does not take away the fact that you never declared us at war!" He began to stomp back to his seat at the dinner table.

"For goodness sakes, you're really going to lecture me about my morals when you've got a freaking assassin cult surrounding us!?" Bruce yelled back in return, "In my defense, when I see assassins, it really seems like anything I do would be in self-defense… Even if you weren't currently attacking me…" He argued. Every sense of nervousness had spiraled into anger.

"Exactly, we never attacked you except for a formal, well-mannered, spa-"

"Shut up! Can't you both just agree to disagree?!" Now shaking from frustration, Talia finally let her voice really rise and scream at them both. She tugged Bruce back to the table, and motioned for them both to sit down. "Apparently you're both a bit crazy, but two different kinds of crazy that apparently don't mix. I just- I just want this dinner to not be the worst experience of all of our lives…." As she settled back down into her own chair, her voice began to lower again.

Bruce and Ra's both begrudgingly nodded. Everyone's muscles began to relax, and their breaths were much slower and calmer. The ticks of an old clock clacked in the background as everyone went back to eating calmly. After a few minutes of peaceful silence, a soft conversation began again.

"I don't think you two ever introduced yourselves." Bruce pointed to another man and woman who were seated at the table with them. They had been simply watching and speculating as him and Ra's did their shenanigans. "You're Nyssa, right?" He pointed to the woman who had stabbed Ra's not long ago.

"Yes, and it's been quite amusing to watch him be kinder to you than he is to me." Nyssa sent him a cold glare across the table. He shuttered. "I'm Talia's older sister… or technically half sister, but you get the point."

Ra's quickly took up the introductions once she was finished, "Yes, yes, she's my other daughter. Much older than Talia, but nowhere near as wonderful." He smiled at Talia, who blushed uncomfortably. Being the favorite was better than being the least favorite, but it could certainly be embarrassing, too. Ra's turned towards Dusan, "He's… my son? I think. I'm sorry, it's been a long time since his birth, so I sometimes forget it even happened! His name is… hmm… I'm fairly sure it starts with a C…"

"It's Dusan, Father. It doesn't even start with a C…" The man corrected. He sighed at his father's forgetfulness. Ra's titled his head at Dusan, displeased at the answer. His expression was questionable, with an eyebrow raised, like he was about to question Dusan on his own name. Dusan sighed even deeper.

"I… supposed that's his name, then…" Ra's gave in, his tone still indicating his lack of certainty on the matter. He looked Dusan in the eyes, making direct eye contact, "But don't call me Father! You're hardly my son if I can't even remember my name." Dusan returned the eye contact with a look of sadness and disappointment.

"If it makes you feel any better, Dusan, I still consider you my big brother." Talia stated, smiling towards him shyly. Dusan shook off the eye contact with Ra's to send a bitter glare back to his younger sister.

"Oh really? Like I care, Favorite! One day, he's going to realize that I'm the better child and you're going to be forsaken considering how much trouble you've caused him!" Dusan scowled at Talia. She groaned, but stayed quiet in an attempt to avoid another embarrassing argument.

"Don't you dare speak to your superior that way!" Despite her silence, Ra's was far from quiet. He immediately looked back towards Bruce as he finished speaking. His speech was completely polite to Bruce now, as if the spontaneous attack had never even happened. "I apologize for his foul behavior, Bruce. It seems that sometimes immature children will act out if you forget to treat them kindly."

"Um… okay." Bruce squinted at Ra's, concerned but still confused. He was still certain that despite the uncalled-for attack, Ra's was still indefinitely the crazier one. But of course, in an effort to not upset Talia, Bruce kept this thought to himself. "I… suppose you must have another test for me, right?"

"Of course! Even though your manners aren't the very best, I will admit you did get me on the ground for a bit there, so… I still haven't counted you out. With a little teaching, you could be a very worthy man." Ra's complimented, "I'd just like to ask you a few questions, to get a grip of your personality just a bit better." He explained, pushing his food to the side.

"Go ahead," Bruce said. Despite his encouraging words, though, he was frowning in utter disinterest. He slowly pushed his food to the side to clear a path between them. Ra's pointed to Bruce before he asked the first question.

"How do you feel about the environment? More specifically, the planet. Innocent animals made endangered by man-made devices and pollution!" Ra's began. He eagerly stretched his hand over to grab a nearby globe, pulling it into his clutches. His thick, strong, fingers spun it nonchalantly.

Bruce thought about the question for a moment, "I feel bad for the animals. Since I have so much money, I've donated tons to helping them, and I feel the environment is a very important cause. I will admit I haven't done a ton of work with it myself, though…" He answered the question as truthfully as possible, figuring it probably wasn't too important.

"That's good… although I would appreciate a bit more enthusiasm for such an important cause." Ra's nodded, quickly moving on to the next question. "How about… murder? Assuming there's a good cause for it, of course."

Bruce froze, "Do I… do I have to answer truthfully?" He whispered into Talia's ear. She nodded, pointing towards her father. With a couple of her fingers pressed up to her neck, she made a cut-throat gesture. Bruce shuttered and shook at such a threatening signal, even if it was more of a simple warning. "I think it's horrible. One of the worst crimes imaginable. I would never commit it, even if it cost me my life. I don't think there's any excuse for taking another human being's life, no matter what that human being has done."

Ra's frowned at the blunt response, "But what if it saved other lives? The animals, which we've hurt so much with pollution's lives, perhaps?" He argued, continuing to spin his globe fidgetly. His eyes peered down at the bright blue paint, thinking of the dolphins, fish, seals, and whales that all inhabited that precious space. The space humans were constantly taking over, with their plastic, machinery, and oil spills. To Ra's, such horrid actions seemed surely worthy of the death penalty.

"I said no," Bruce shook his head stubbornly. "No one deserves to die, period. I'm not going to be persuaded on this." He glared at Ra's, starting to get more and more confident by the minute. Ra's glowered right back at him.

Talia sighed, "You know, Beloved… You didn't have to be this blunt about it." She leaned her head on chin on her hand wearily. Her eyes began to close softly, having no energy left after all the messes that had gone on. "I just didn't want you making up something too-good-to-be-true…."

Bruce rolled his eyes, "Well maybe I want to be blunt-"

"Well, I'd like to remind you that my father isn't exactly the person you want to upset!" She gestured back towards all the highly-trained assassins surrounding them. Every single one had belts with an arsenal of weapons tucked inside, and half of them had enough muscles to take down most people without the help of the weapons. "Only a fool would mess with such a man. After months of dating you, I hope I am not misled when I say you're not that much of an idiot."

Bruce gulped, immediately realizing his mistake, "I…. I'm sorry, Mr. Al Ghul." He looked back at Ra's nervously. He quickly tightened his tie and fixed his posture, hoping even that small of a change could make a difference. . . Whether that difference was a matter of life or death, or simply whether Talia and him were allowed to keep dating.

"You know... '' Ra's considered his options, peering at Bruce judgmentally. "That kind of rebelness does show courage, if you squint. I'll be fair and say it's bound to come in handy at some point in your life… so, I have decided that you two may keep dating. From what I've heard, you make my daughter happy, so I suppose I'd feel bad being too judgemental." He smiled at Talia. Getting up from his seat, he wandered around the table to kiss her forehead lovingly.

Despite the loving gesture, though, Talia was much more focused on the wonderful news this meant for her and Bruce. The minute her father was done giving her the kiss, she ran over to Bruce and hugged him. Bruce wrapped his hands around her as well, squeezing her against him.

"Thank you, Father," Talia turned back towards Ra's for a split second before leaning back into Bruce's hug. She rested her cheek against him affectionately. "You're alive. I can't believe you're still alive. Everyone's still alive…." She smiled, tilting her to the left to peck him on the cheek.

"Yes.. although I will admit it's a bit sad that we even questioned that.. Not that we didn't have the right to." Bruce glared at Nyssa and Ra's bitterly. Fortunately, they were both looking the opposite way. He really had to stop doing so much of this rebellious, impolite, glaring at those he was attempting to make fond of him. "But more importantly, we get to stay together! I knew I had made the right move by attacking your father." He smirked.

"Sure you did," Talia's smile twisted into a smirk along with his, "There's a reason he didn't kill you, though, Beloved. You were wonderful… and the stalemate? That's more than impressive. It took me my entire childhood of playing chess with him to start being able to get those! You're so intelligent, and brave, and… well, I'm just very glad I fell in love with someone as wonderful as you. Even if you did punch my Father." Her eyes softened for a moment, now taken over by a bittersweet gaze.

"...Thank you," Bruce smiled softly back to her, but it was quickly taken over by a more solemn, concerned, expression. "Can we talk outside for a moment, Talia? After all this, I think there's a lot we need to go over… privately." He nudged her out of the comfy hug.

Talia's smile immediately dropped, "Of… course," She stuttered, now remembering that Bruce had just learned tons of secrets in this one evening. Her head turned slightly back towards Ra's, "Please excuse us for a moment." Taking Bruce's hand, Talia led him outside to a nearby courtyard.

Once they got there, Bruce let out a long, painfully loud, groan. He flopped down onto one of the benches drowsily. Talia sat down with him, letting out a smaller groan herself. They sat there, with all masks and forced smiles dropped for an awkward minute or two. Their eyes were closed for the most of it, only flickering open every few seconds.

"I assume you want to break up with me, anyway." Talia finally spoke, her words slow and quiet above the peeps of nearby crickets. She stared straight down at the ground, neglecting to blink or let the aching tears stream out of her eyes. Bruce slowly looked up at her. Both their heads were still dropping forwards for the most part, but he peered at her from the corner of his eye. Another gap of silence stood between them before he finally opened his mouth to answer her question.

"...No, not necessarily." Bruce finally answered. He looked back down at his lap, avoiding any kind of eye contact. Her chin twitched upwards at the good news. But as he spoke again, Talia's chin lowered. "But… out of curiosity, if I did, would your father kill me?"

"Well… yes, probably." Her skirt gently flew up, caught in the airy breeze. She breathed in and out, as slow and soft as the wind. Bruce bit his lip, pouting ever so slightly. He swallowed in consideration. "But I would try my best to stop it from happening, Beloved. As much as it would ache me, I would never want you to die, of course. …..You could fake your own death." She suggested, finally lifting her chin enough to really look at him.

Bruce flinched, but kept his head down, "I'd… rather not do that." A muffled groan escaped his lips. Talia's lips quivered at the uncomfortable sound. Her head dropped again, spinning towards the opposite direction. As she turned away, Bruce continued thinking over his options. Everything felt wrong, but somehow right in an odd way. They sat in silence for another couple minutes as he fell deep into his thoughts.

"You promised," Talia suddenly blurted out. Tears had begun to well up in the corners of her eyes. She continued to look away from him, hiding the weak, desperate look on her face. "You promised you wouldn't blame me for them….. You promised." Her voice was careful as she attempted to keep her tone as calm as possible.

Bruce nodded, "You're right," He stated. For a second, but only for a second, did his voice crack into a much shakier tone. It pained him to look at her, to hear her faltering voice, and most of all, to know that she hadn't truly done a thing. At least, as far as he knew. "Your father's a criminal. The leader of a league dedicated to murder. So, with that knowledge in mind…. How many people have you murdered?"

Talia gulped, "You- You don't want to know." She shook her head shamefully. Bruce winced at the cold, gut-wrenching answer. "You and I both know you don't truly want to hear the answer to that question." She repeated. Talia pressed her eyes closed, letting tears seep out out and on to her trembling cheeks. Bruce was going to go. She was sure of it.

"Why…? Why would you-" Bruce stuttered. He finally fully lifted his head to face the apparent-murderer. Talia turned even farther away from him in response.

"Can't you see? My father is an ecoterrorist, Beloved. A mass-murderer. A genocidal maniac. I spent my entire childhood in his care… Of course I've killed for him!" Her voice rose a bit. Talia's eyes peered back at Bruce to see his reaction, but she didn't move a muscle in her neck to truly look at him. "I swear on my life, I didn't enjoy it. But I couldn't let him down. I still can't let him down. He's still my father, and… I can't betray my own family, can I?" She wrapped her arms around herself. A sad look sparkled in her eyes, almost mirroring the stars above them.

Bruce felt a tinge of anger run up his spine, "But…. you want to, don't you?" Talia's neck shook as her head flopped even closer to her lap. He moved his hand a bit closer to her, considering whether he should place it on her shoulder or not.

"Maybe I do," Talia whispered, her words barely audible. It was if she was simply mouthing them to herself. She squeezed her eyes shut as she spoke the tiny, quiet, little words. As she slowly opened them again, she gradually turned her head to finally face him. Their eyes met for a moment, "But maybe I don't. It's more complicated than that, Beloved ..." Her head still faced him, but her eyes broke out of the eye contact. They wandered in the opposite direction wistfully.

Bruce sucked in his lips, every muscle in his body cramping together. He resisted every urge in himself to touch her, hug her... or simply just reach a bit closer to hold hands. She was a murderer. He shouldn't have felt this way, he knew he shouldn't, but the urges were there. Bruce. Still. Loved. Her. It hurt to say the words inside his head, but not quite as much as it hurt to deny it. He kept his hand still, worried even a small vibration of movement could result in him fully wrapping his arms around Talia. But as he focused on stillness in his body, Bruce felt another hand reach over and squeeze his.

"All I know now, Beloved… is that I don't want to betray you." Talia looked straight at him now, adjusting her entire body to lean towards him. Bruce looked straight at her, as well. Her green eyes were glossy, with wet tears glistening in the moonlight. "We could still work out. My father actually seems to admire you, and I do, as well, but…. I'm not sure if you return such admiration…. After everything you've learned."

"You have a point," Bruce pushed himself off the bench. He began to tread forward, wandering around the courtyard. "I lose nothing from staying with you… except perhaps my lack of relations with murderers. It's not like I'm completely innocent myself. I may not have taken anyone's life, but I certainly started some fires against people who didn't completely deserve it. My poor math teacher…. Besides, I made a promise." He paced back and forth, gradually walking faster and faster|.

Talia sighed, "But that promise only included what my family did," She stood up with him. "They are my murders, not my-"

"Yes," He looked down for a moment, lost in thought yet again. His mouth rested in an aloof frown. Bruce's eyes narrowed. "But even then, it's more than clear you wouldn't be such a murderer if it weren't for where you were raised. Blaming you for such a thing could be considered breaking my promise either way." His hands spun up and down, gesturing as he explained his logic.

Talia's hand reached over to his, "Please… I'm not some kind of damsel in distress. I may have tears coming out of my eyes, and I may look pathetic right now, but…you still must make the choice that suits your heart. I don't want your pity." Her eyebrows arched, a stern focus taking over. Bruce's hands stopped twirling. A stillness crept over, with her hand just barely resting on his arm peacefully.

"-And I will not give you any, Talia," Bruce cleared his throat. Finally giving in to the undying urges, he wrapped his arms around her. Talia felt him pull her into a soft embrace. "Even through mistakes, and even, well... crimes, there is one thing standing. One thing other than pity- and that is love. It may make me crazy for doing so, or even a criminal, but I will give you mine."

"What does that even mean, though?" Talia asked, looking downwards. Her eyelids flapped up and down as she quickly blinked. "I… suppose it doesn't even matter, does it? Not now, anyhow… If you will give me your love, then I will give you mine." She quickly peeked back up, now with a wide smile across her face.

"I think we both know what that means, then… and what it doesn't." Bruce sighed, carefully taking a step back from Talia. Their loving embrace loosened. Talia's smile began to drop, but still not fully hit a frown. "I'm sorry. I… may have gotten lost in the fairytales there. Or maybe I was right. I'm not even sure anymore, Talia…"

Talia took deep breaths as she thought everything he was saying over, "You… you said thought we both knew what it meant… and what it didn't, of course. But perhaps…" Her hand, hesitant and unsure, began to slowly nudge him back towards her. Despite his overall reluctance, he easily let her lead him in the movement. "Perhaps for now… we can just focus on what it does mean, Beloved." She whispered the endearing nickname, a hopeful smile appearing on his face. Bruce couldn't help but smile back.

With their arms already wrapped tightly around each other, Talia slowly began to lean in for a kiss. Bruce closed his eyes, gently following her affectionate behavior. Both of their soft hugs towards the other one tightened even more as they leaned in close. The soft glow of the moon shimmered behind them as they finally kissed. Talia and Bruce held the other one happily. Happy. Even for just a moment, they were happy.

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yan-twst · 4 years ago

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Omg i loveee your Yandere headcanons! May i request some general yandere relationship headcanons for the Vice dorm leaders? Sfw and nsfw for the 3rd year ones(Trey , Lilia and Rook)? ✧\(>o

warning: general yandere content, nsfw under cut (contains dubcon [although it’s not heavily implied nor explored, and it’s never stated that consent was not given, it’s still uh... yan nsfw so it is what it is], mentions of drugs)

trey clover

already written! can be found here: [link]

ruggie bucchi

ruggie is greedy with his darling

it’s just, he rarely gets to have things for himself- he’s so used to having to scrounge up scraps, to hand-me-downs, that finally having something (or someone) that’s entirely his just... drives him a bit nuts

if his darling is weak and docile, ruggie will take on a more dominating role, but if they’re more feisty and confident, ruggie can also be incredibly desperate and almost... meek? male hyenas are naturally submissive in nature; if his darling can activate that natural instinct in him, he’ll melt like putty in their hands

hyenas will break even the bones for sustenance; ruggie has no trouble getting his hands dirty if it’s for his darling, and that’s part of what makes him so terrifying. violence? underhanded methods? please, that’s child’s play for a slum cat like him, really

despite usually being quite careful with his money, ruggie will dote and try to spoil his darling as much as he can. he sees this as the ultimate form of affection- money is hard to come by, so spending it on gifts for his darling... well, that’s gotta be the most romantic thing, right?

as much as he likes to play rough from time to time, he’s also a sucker for spending quiet moments with his darling, especially when he’s tired after work. if his darling acts nice, he’ll be sweet as sugar (with some teasing here and there, of course); make him angry, and they better be ready to have a “little accident” that may leave them bedridden for a few weeks...

jade leech

people are usually less scared of jade than they are of floyd- which really isn’t of much use. jade is equally, if not more sadistic than his twin; he just hides it better. and that’s dangerous

sure, he might not be azul and can’t trick his darling into signing their freedom and life away, but he can still keep them where he wants them. pressing their deepest fears and insecurities out of them isn’t a struggle- and he knows just how to use that info to his favour

jade will be very careful on how he approaches the ordeal of breaking his darling into being perfectly docile and calm at his side. he’ll get them to associate pain and coldness with the outside, and he’ll mark himself as comfort, warmth, everything good.

this isn’t to say he won’t be rough. far from it, really. jade may act like a gentleman, but it’s absolutely clear he finds entertainment in punishing his darling

and yet, he’s there to comfort them the second it’s over: oh, poor thing, they’re crying... did it hurt? oh, it must have, hm? would they like a cold compress? he’d hate for their skin to bruise... perhaps some balms? there, he’ll run a warm bath for them- let him escort them to the bathroom. they wouldn’t be thinking of trying to run away after this, would they?

even if his darling is dead-set on trying to escape and hating him, this is something that he will win no matter what. the mind can be bent and manipulated: and over time, his darling will realize (to their horror), that anxiety begins to build when jade’s away, that they only feel truly safe in his arms...

jamil viper

jamil’s whole life has been giving. give the asim family his services, give his parents the assurance he’d do as he was asked, give kalim the spotlight, give, give, give. so when jamil can finally take, he makes sure that what he wants is truly his

with his unique magic, it’s really no hassle to just take his darling and lock them up wherever with no hassle, but... that’s almost too easy. he knows best that the most satisfying results come after hard work

jamil revels in earning his darling’s trust. oh, so naive, to befriend him so easily. don’t they find it suspicious how he’s usually so abrasive to other people, but so nice to them? do they really think everyone who approaches them has good intentions?

getting close to his darling also means separating them from others. he has no qualms in using his magic to stir up conflict- how weird, that all of his darling’s friends suddenly had a big fallout that nobody can seem to find the cause of, huh? well, at least he’s still there, right? he’s their only real friend it seems!

he’s fantasized about kalim’s betrayed and crushed face for years when he finally revealed his hatred- of course, that was... a bit ruined, since he overblotted and all. but it’s equally as delicious to see his darling’s horrified and betrayed face once he shows his true colors, once they can’t run away

jamil has no issue in keeping his darling under snake’s whisper for long periods of time. he’s incredibly talented, after all. however, he won’t keep it on always: he does want them to stop trying to escape even when they aren’t under his spell

his ultimate goal is for his darling to obey his every word without him even needing his spell. he does love them, after all: it just feels all that more genuine to receive a kiss from someone not being controlled by magic (even if they’re being driven by fear of punishment)

rook hunt

rook adores romance. he’s read poems about great men falling from their power because of their hearts, of longings so desperate the poets feel like they might really die of yearning- and to finally feel that himself... it’s so intoxicating, really. he understands now, how greedily the heart aches for the one it wants

he’ll take his sweet time. observing, watching his darling from a distance. rook sees beauty in boring, everyday things- his darling’s bedhead, the way they snuggle into pillows at night, how they twirl a pen in their hand when studying, the way they fold their clothes... he watches it all, and falls into obsession a bit more every time

rook might come off as a bit overwhelming at first, when he does approach his darling. he... seems to have very little shame and a lot of interest, but it’s charming, at first. he likes to snatch his darling away on romantic lunches, leaving them poems in their desk: it’s romantic at first. others see it as a very sweet move in rook’s part, even if it freaks his darling out quite a bit just... how much he seems to know about them

it isn’t surprising to anyone, but rook enjoys a good chase. when his darling is finally freaked out enough to try avoiding him and somehow he keeps showing up, when not even locking the doors seems to be enough, when they’re running and crying through a dark forest in some vague hopes of losing him, rook feels more alive than ever

he’ll keep his darling by his side, but he doesn’t mind letting them slip from time to time just to hunt them down. he sees it as fun, even if he might get angry if it’s a bit too much of a common occurrence. he loves his petit lapin, but they better not test him too much, hm?

lilia vanrouge

he’ll be quite playful at first, popping out from the ceiling upside down to scare his darling, telling them stories about baby silver and whatnot. but he’ll also make sure to make himself a reliable figure, someone they can turn to for advice and help

he’s so fun and looks so cute, his darling won’t even realize how he’s sneakily working behind the scenes. slowly isolated from their friends, being fed “advice” that simply drives them into his territory- lilia exells at doing all of this without his beloved even realizing he’s up to something

he’s patient- he’s lived for so long, charming his darling over months is absolutely nothing. before they’ve realized, their only companions are lilia and his trusted diasomnia members; and by then, it’s too late. lilia can snatch them up and do as he pleases: his dorm members might even aid him if he asks

he’s got a sadistic streak, so he’ll purposefully egg his darling to do things he’ll punish them for. lilia will let his darling think he missed locking the door, or accidentally left a weapon laying around- but of course it wasn’t an accident, and now he gets to punish them

at the same time, he’s got an oddly nurturing side to him. he can’t help but see his darling as a weak and adorable thing, compared to him: he’ll coo over them and hold them close, insisting on helping them with simple things. he’ll also try to force them into a parental role on his little makeshift family- but of course, they don’t get any of the responsibilities that come with it... it feels like playing house, almost: a horrible, painful game of house that never ends

NSFW (under cut)

trey clover

he isn’t very forceful, really. trey’s libido isn’t low by any means, but it’s not like, ridiculously high anyways. still, he has no trouble just jerking himself off right next to his darling in bed; well, if they don’t want to help, then they’ll have to watch.

still, he isn’t above slipping aphrodisiacs into food. it’s not even hard- doodle suit can cover up any bitter medicinal tastes, and he gets to have his darling melt into his touch and beg for him. yup, he adores that

he’s in charge, always. despite not really needing restraints or punishment to have his darling indulge him- really, he’s got them so... trained that his words are enough, he’s still very much so into tying them up

trey will degrade his darling when he’s in a bad mood and also horny. it’s a shocking change of pace: usually he’s all sweets and love, and then he’s growling into their ear how much of a whore they are, look, their body is basically trained to react to his touch, don’t they have any shame?

he might not be pushy when it comes to this sort of intimacy, something not all yanderes share, but that doesn’t mean he’s not rough when he does get to fuck his darling. he enjoys leaving marks all over them- also being marked up, too.

trey will make his darling beg. he knows damn well that this relationship isn’t normal, but fuck it, he can almost believe his darling is with him of their own accord when they beg for him to just please fuck them please, please- he doesn’t particularly mind it’s probably their mind turned to mush after hours of edging, or the aphrodisiac he put into their cookies

rook hunt

for all his creepy stalking and his obsession with his darling, sex with a very obsessed and protective rook is usually... romantic. soft, even. he’ll light candles and be gentle- romance, love... it’s almost like a scene taken right out of a cheesy adult romance novel. it’s romantic and thoughtful enough his darling can truly forget, for a second, he’s essentially their captor

well, it’s that way... for the most part

rile him up enough and he’ll snap. he cares for romance, yes, but do you know what he also cares for? fucking his darling in whatever piece of furniture because he’s at the end of his patience and they’re just so tempting

he’ll mess with love potions and aphrodisiacs, or any other spell he comes across with, but it’s not that common. he prefers to make his darling writhe under him without those things- it feels more like an achievement. feels more like love

it may seem uncharacteristic of a pomefiore student, but he’ll demand to have love bites or scratches left on him. he won’t even ask to cover his darling in hickeys. he sees it as part of the “natural beauty” he covets so much, evidence of love, affection... obsession

if he’s chasing down his darling, all that adrenaline will go straight to his cock once he’s finally caught them. he doesn’t particularly care it’s the middle of a dark forest- he really might just tear his darling’s clothes apart and take them right then, the adrenaline and rush from the chase driving him on

lilia vanrouge

yandere lilia nsfw headcanons were written already, can be found here: [link]

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #trey clover #ruggie bucchi #jade leech #rook hunt #lilia vanrouge #yandere #drugs ment #Anonymous

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thecncitygirls · 3 years ago

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Mikayla being space royalty and a superhero AND adopted by the Warners sound like your typical mary sue backstory but i promise you it makes more sense one you read the lore i have!

Norah Jordan (Kayla's mom) didn't have a good relationship with her parents so she was eager to get out of the house and go to college. At the time she studied marine biology. One day at the beach she found Optimatus washed up on the shore, having had survived a surprise attack by martians ans a crash. She took him in and during his recovery they fell in love. Months passed and a search and rescue party arrived on Earth to pick up Optimatus. While he hated to leave his new life he knew he has to go back to Freleng. He never even told Norah of his royal backstory. He left knowing he had to do something to keep the galaxy safe. Norah often wondered what happened to her mysterious love. Soon after Optimatus left she found out she was pregnant.

Following Mikayla's birth Norah struggled with balancing school and taking care of a baby. So she hired the Warners to be a babysitter. The gag/episode runs as normal and the usual shenanigans occurred. Luckily the Warners make it out in one piece and Norah comes home to fine Mikayla sleeping peacefully. Impressed Norah continued to hire the Warners as caretakers, eventually in gratitude the Warners put in a request for Norah to work a highly-coveted job at the then-new movie ACME studio in Acmetropolis. Norah doesn't get the job but she does get to be the Warners' secretary. Years go by, Mikayla comes to see them as family, even changing her last name to Warner.

Their influence weren't exactly positive as their mischievous nature rubbed off on Kayla and she grows up to be some kind of a delinquent.

Mikayla joined the Loonatics completely by accident - while walking home from a rough day at her job as a retail worker she got caught up in a villain attack. The stress caused her to unleash her powers taking out the villain in the process. The team saw this and tried to talk to her but she disappears. They spend the next week looking for her and they find her and go to her house. Ace offers her a spot on the team but she declined expressing no interest in joining a hero team. She already had a job and goal, and didn't want extra stress of juggling so much stuff. Disappointed they leave but say a spot is always open for her. Mikayla moves on with her life, dealing with her shitty job and sadness that the Warners don't visit as often anymore because of their busy schedule.

Later Optimatus would find out Zadavia hiding out on Earth and tracks her down. He also learns that Norah is still around and looks for her, and that was how he learned thay Norah had a baby - his heir - and by finding his heir he could mould them in his image. He takes Norah hostage, so Mikayla runs to the Loonatics for help. They go to rescue Norah and come across Zadavia in person for the first time. She explains the situation and tells Mikayla her power is a trait of the Royal Family - which likely means Optimatus had a child on Earth and that child is her.

At Optimatus's ship Norah doesn't recognize the cyborg before her and demands answers. The cyborg reveals himself to be her former lover and that he recently found out about his child. He explained that after Martians attacked him, and learning they and other worlds had a history of conquest, he felt he needed to do something about the constant wars and resolved to fight fire with fire. He had already taken over Freleng and used its power to conquer "problem worlds." Horrified Norah argued that he could end up destroying everyone including himself if he continued down this path. The Tyrant counters that he's doing it to protect her, their child and the universe. He already had a meteorite set up to strong arm Earth's leaders into surrendering. Just then Loonatics and Mikayla crash the place and get into a fight with Optimatus's henchmen. Mikayla rushes over to free her mom only to be accosted by Optimatus. He tells her he is her father but to his shock she responded that she already knew - her aunt Zadavia told her the truth. Besides she always regarded Yakko and Wakko as sort of father figures so it's jarring to find out that her biological father is a space tyrant and she won't stand for that. Angry Optimatus tries to take her hostage but Zadavia intervenes and they get into a fight. It takes the whole team and Mikayla to take him down and stop the meteorite from destroying the planet. They manage to defeat him and they lock him up.

Of course Mikayla doesn't forget her adopted relatives the Warners. Whenever they're in town they always take the time to visit her and Norah.

Zadavia stays to mentor with her newfound niece, so she's a lot more in the picture than in canon, actively helping the team in person while Mikayla teaches her aunt Earth culture. Overtime Mikayla learns to be more responsible since Zadavia legitimizes her as Crown Princess of Freleng, and she finds a place on the Loonatics Team. Norah struggled to understand how the man she once loved become like that and had reservations about Mikayla being a superhero so after a long talk with Zadavia Norah decides to let Mikayla be if ot meant helping her cope with her powers. Norah actually ends up moving to Freleng to help its people recover from Optimatus's rule.

#mikayla j warner #canon x oc #oc x canon #loonatics unleashed #loonatics unleashed oc #OC Lore #joraverse

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cosmicjoke · 3 years ago

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Alright, onto chapter 72 of AoT, and once again, there’s a lot to dig into here. I really think it’s brilliant the way Isyama structured and set up this whole story, and I think it benefit hugely from a second readthrough, in order to pick up just how many details and clue’s as to what’s going on there really are.

Levi’s conversation with Erwin once again only reinforces the reasons for Levi’s ambivalence and uncertainty as to Erwin’s intentions. That’s also communicated throughout several panels leading up to this scene, where every time Erwin starts talking about retaking Wall Maria, or about Eren’s basement, Levi levels him with a skeptical look. But it really comes to a head here.

What really struck me during this scene was just how fed up Levi was with Erwin’s lies at this point. First he asks Erwin what the plan is beyond retaking the Wall, and clarifies, after Erwin gives a half-assed, noncommittal answer, that he’s asking because Erwin’s chances of dying on the mission are high, and Levi still believes fully that if Erwin dies, then humanity’s chances at victory are null and void. Levi is trying in his way to communicate to Erwin that he SHOULDN’T be joining them, and just flat out says it after a moment, asking him to let Hange lead the ground operation, and telling Erwin that he doesn’t need more baggage to slow him down. Levi is obviously hoping Erwin proves his new found doubts and concerns wrong by agreeing with him and deciding to stay behind. But, of course, Erwin doesn’t, but only worsens those doubts when he flat out refuses to stay behind. What really stood out to me here was how PISSED Levi gets when Erwin starts trying to bullshit him by coming up with one, noble-sounding excuse after another for why he can’t agree to stay behind. I think Levi probably feels pretty hurt here, because by lying to him over and over, Erwin is showing a lack of trust or respect for Levi. After years of standing by Erwin’s side, lending him his strength and loyalty and his own, deep trust in Erwin to make the right calls, and for the right reasons, not only is Erwin repaying that trust on Levi’s part with evasiveness and vague half-answers, but also, now, with outright lies. You can’t blame Levi for getting as angry as he does here, when he talks over Erwin after his second attempt at bullshitting him and threatens to break his legs if he keeps it up. You can tell Levi makes the threat as much out of a sense of betrayal and anger as he does as a means of trying to get Erwin to agree to stay.

And then, at last, Erwin just tells the truth, probably sensing that Levi is serious, and admits that it isn’t for any noble reason, such as the chances of success in completing the mission, or the importance of it to humanity as a whole, but because he HAS to be there when the truth is discovered. He still doesn’t reveal to Levi the reasons behind his obsession, how it’s a thirst to prove his father right, and quell the guilt of his own, childhood mistake that’s compelling him towards this, but he does finally admit to Levi that humanity’s victory isn’t what’s most important to him.

Levi’s look of shock and dismay at that revelation is intense, and I think it shows us how, despite having formed doubts over the last, several weeks or whatever amount of time has passed, Levi was still holding out hope that he was wrong, and that Erwin really was what Levi had believed him to be previously, meaning an altruistic, selfless person who did what he did for humanity’s sake. Levi is forced, for the first time here, to admit that his original perception of Erwin was wrong, and you can see it’s devastating to him. He pushes Erwin here, first asking if it’s more important than his legs, and when Erwin answers yes, Levi finally just flat out asks if it’s more important than humanity’s victory, and again, Erwin answers yes. And, at this point, Levi just resigns himself to that reality, and says “Fine.” But you can tell how truly upset he is, and angry, when he tells Erwin he’ll trust his judgment once more, you can see he’s also reminding Erwin that if he allows his selfish desires to take precedence over humanity’s well being, and he ends up getting killed because of it, then that’s on him. He’ll have to take responsibility for putting humanity last in the service of his own, selfish dream. Levi’s saying he’ll trust in Erwin one last time, but he won’t help Erwin delude himself anymore into thinking it’s for the right reasons.

What I find so brilliant, then, in the rest of the chapter, is how it’s set up to lead into the battle in Shinganshina, but also how it sets up into Levi overhearing Armin’s conversation with Eren and Mikasa, and how that ultimately informs what does happen, with Levi making the choice he does.

Levis’ obviously feeling really upset, and betrayed by Erwin, and horrified no doubt by Erwin’s decision to put his own desires above the well being of humanity. He’s probably wondering if every decision Erwin’s ever made was in service to his own dream, whether those decisions were actually to the benefit or detriment to humanity, and probably feeling himself guilty for putting so much blind faith in a man who, it’s turned out, isn’t nearly as pure in his intentions as Levi had believed.

The conversation between Eren and Armin is really important in the way it’s structured, and how it ends up influencing Levi then. Eren is still talking about how they need to take back Wall Maria so that they can defeat their enemies, and so he can kill Reiner and Bertolt. Eren’s main, driving motivation is revenge, and the elimination of humanities enemy’s. But then Armin steps in and says “That’s not all.”, and we see in the next panel, this is when Levi turns his head, as if he’s attentions been caught by what Armin says. Armin goes on to say it isn’t just Titans beyond the walls, but oceans, lands of ice, and snowy plains of sand, etc... He talks about the sea and how it stretches out beyond the horizon, and how they’re are fish that only live there. And then he says “Let’s start by going to the sea!”. To Armin, this is a beginning, the first step in realizing a better, brighter future for humanity. Levi is listening to all of this, letting himself sit and listen. He hears the hope and enthusiasm in Armin’s voice, and his belief in a bright future. There’s absolute earnestness and sincerity in Armin’s words. This is in sharp contrast with Levi’s conversation with Erwin earlier, in which Erwin lied to him again and again until Levi had to threaten him with physical violence to get him to tell him the truth, and in which Erwin admitted he had no, concrete plans beyond retaking the wall, no contingencies in place for them to follow if Erwin himself got killed, serving as a harsh reminder to Levi that Erwin’s priority wasn’t humanity at all. Listening to Armin’s hope and dreams here, and the genuine belief and purity he has in talking about them, has, as we later find out, a profound impact on Levi. This is the first time Levi starts to believe that humanity can still survive and keep on fighting, with or without Erwin. That there’s enough hope left in these kids to drive the fight forward. Levi maybe doesn’t realize it yet, but that seed of hope has been planted in him too.

Also, man, the final panels of this chapter, with the people of Trost yelling up to the SC standing on the wall, ready to ride out. When we see the same merchant from before who was putting Levi down so hard for the laziness and uselessness of the Survey Corps, and the way he calls out to Levi, telling him thank you for saving their town, and Levi sees the same mother and child from that day, with the mother smiling and healthy, just... this is such a powerful moment. Levi’s look, this kind of mix between sadness and happiness, sadness, I think, because he must be remembering his own mother, and how she died, how she wasn’t able to be saved, but happiness to see that this mother hasn’t met the same fate, that she’s been able to regain hers and her child’s life. This really was such a poignant moment, and once more demonstrates Levi’s heartbreaking compassion for people. He just cares so much, and the genuine joy he feels at seeing the wellbeing of others is truly heartwarming. Especially, once more, given the harshness of his own life.

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #Levi Ackerman #Erwin Smith #armin arlert #eren yaegar

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roger-that-cap · 4 years ago

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once upon a december

knight!steve x reader (sort of an anastasia au type thing!)

word count: 4.09k!

warnings: i think swearing! but other than that this is good for everyone!

did not check her for errors, sorry!

part two!

You rode for about fifteen minutes at medium speed on the huge horse that felt like seconds to you by the time you were coming into town. The way the horse stopped startled you, because just as fast as he started his trot, it felt natural to you. It would have brought you all the way to sleep, if your mind hadn’t been so wary about who was right in front of you.

“This is our stop,” he muttered, getting off of his horse and turning to you, and you reached your hand out to be helped down, landing softly on your feet. “You good?”

“I am, thank you.” You said out of politeness, and he nodded. You looked at where his eyes were looking as he tied his horse to the tree, and you immediately recognized it as a bar. “A bar?”

Those were forbidden back at the orphanage. You had been told that only low people went there, people with no class. As far as you were concerned, orphans were the lower class. You couldn’t get lower than that in the kingdom. Right above you were the common bargoers, you believed.

“There a problem with that?”

“I don’t speak to drunk men.” You surely didn’t. You had learned from others that men who were drunk wanted one of two things at all times, and that was to start a fight or to make children. At first, you had faith in the men that people talked so down on. But you learned. Like all other women, you learned. “If he wants to speak to me, he’ll have to come outside.”

“It’s cold,” James said, giving you a face.

You weren’t going in a room full of rowdy people. You much rather preferred hushed, passionate conversations and whispers. It was just… better. “If he’s a good man, he won’t make me go in there.”

“What does him being a man have to do with that?”

“Men are nasty,” you said boldly, and he gave you a slightly amused, slightly agitated look. “And they’re all in there,” you said, grimacing when you heard boisterous laughter. “If you want a good seamstress, you’ll bring him out here to talk.”

“Where are you from?” He asked out of nowhere, and you were both shocked at his blatant attitude and relieved by it.

“Why?”

“You don’t sound like you’re from around here.” He per his horse twice before looking back at you. “So, where are you from?”

You took a deep breath and then exhaled, watching it leave your body with an intense curiosity before you answered his question. “Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t know?”

A slow smile spread across his face, and then he was grinning, a shallow but true grin. And then, he shook his head once. “No.” He turned around and walked straight into the bar.

You had no idea what to do. Were you supposed to stand there and wait, possibly even freeze? Or was that a sign for you to follow him or go on your own way? You had already tried to be on your own, and that didn’t work well at all. Maybe you were a team player before you were an orphan.

You stood with your arms wrapped around your body, swishing back and forth and bending your knees every so often, locking eyes with the horse every now and again before finally turning away from the bar and throwing your head up, giving out a groan.

“Hey,” you tilted your head back down. “Buck tells me you’re a seamstress for cheap.” You turned around and faced the direction where the sound of boots slapping snow came from, and immediately you were stunned.

A blonde man, even taller than his brunette companion, was standing there, his steps long stuttered at the sight of you. You could see his blue eyes clearly even through the flurries of snow that were still coming down. You frowned subconsciously, something about the sight of him tugging at your mind.

He took a few steps closer, and you stayed put. You could have sworn that his head was going to pop right out of his neck when he pushed it forward, trying to get a good look at your face. He was close enough where you could see the looks of surprise, confusion, and anger morph into one. His jaw slacked, and as quiet as the wind, he said one word. “Alexandra?”

Just like that, your enchantment with the second grown man that you had seen during your journey dropped. You shook your head at him. “Who’s Alexandra?”

His slight joy dropped, plummeted so far that you couldn’t have caught it even if you tried. “Who are you?” He questioned harshly.

“Y/N,” you said cautiously, narrowing your eyes on him. “I make clothes. You said you needed help,” you said, and you looked towards the hole in his pants and how they were shorter than what they needed to be, and you also caught sight of a huge hole under his arm. You gave him a look. “And it seems to me that you do need help, so don’t be so hostile.”

“Buck, who-”

“I found her. She sprained her ankle.”

The blonde man had you on the receiving end of a harsh look and then yanked his friend to the side, seemingly for a private conversation that wasn’t so private because of how loud he was, and how good your hearing was.

You could tune into nearly anything, and tune out of nearly anything. It was the perk of being the oldest for most of your time at the orphanage. Some kids were fighting while another needed some help, and you couldn’t listen to both. And so, you adapted.

“This- who is she? Who is that, Bucky?” Bucky? His name was Bucky and not James?

“She says she’s-”

“I know, but she sews, too?” The man’s voice was quiet. “She- she looks like an older version of Alexandra.”

“I know.”

Whoever this “Alexandra” girl was, the blond man was not happy about you resembling her. It was all over his face and in his body language. “So, why did you bring her here?”

“He brought me here because your pants are too small,” you chimed in, and they jumped. “What? I have good hearing. What can I say?”

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop.”

“Guess my parents never taught me that,” you joked, knowing that they wouldn’t get it. “I can fix your clothes. I just need money, and quiet. All the whispering freaks me out, and I can hear it.”

“Who are you really?”

“I’m Y/N, I’m an orphan, and I’m a seamstress in training.”

“You’ve never worked in a shop?”

“W-well, no, but I- I know how to sew,” you said, getting tripped up on your words the second he started to ask you about what you could do. “In fact, I did all of my clothes myself.”

He looked you up and down. “How did you learn?”

You had a feeling that I always just knew wasn’t going to be enough for the blond man, especially because he already didn’t like you. “I… it’s a natural talent.”

“Ha!” His laugh was more of an exclamation than anything as he looked up to the sky and shook his head. “When will I be done paying for the past?”

You made a face at him and waited for his dramatics to subside, tapping your foot in the snow despite your utter freezing. “So, are you going to give me your pants to work on…?”

“What’s your rate, girl?”

“Don’t call me that.” You retorted. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Sir Steven,” he answered, and you saw James give him a look. “What pay do you want?”

“Enough to get a train ticket to Auren.” They both looked at you strangely, and it was for long enough that you took a step back and crossed your arms over your chest. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Why are you going there?” James asked carefully, almost as if he was walking on the thinnest sheet of ice over a lake that he was standing in the middle of. You didn’t like it.

“Because I want to.” You didn’t even consider trying to explain to them about the pull you felt. They looked rich. They looked like they had never experienced loss before. You hadn’t met many knighted men, but you felt like they were too pretty to have seen much at all. “So, if you can’t trade me some new clothes for a ticket, then, I’ll find someone else.”

“We were actually heading that way.”

“That way?” You asked, a brow cocked. “You mean to get there by horse?”

“It’s no more than a three week ride from here, if we’re fast.” James explained, looking to his partner, who was still staring holes in your face. “The trail is already made.”

You knew what he was insinuating. Was it wise to agree to it? Probably not, and at the same time, it may save you money and time. It would take you a long time to work up what you needed for a ticket, but if they were offering to let you ride with them if you fixed their clothes every so often, that could be it. On the back of a horse could be the way you got to Auren, away from the snow, away from everything you’ve conditioned yourself to know again.

“Are you offering for me to come with you?” The huge, blond man looked horrified.

“If you’re comfortable with riding,” he said, ignoring the lethal look that “Steven” gave him. “We mess up our clothes a lot, we could use someone who knows how to fix them. How fast are you?”

“Very.” And you were. You were quick and accurate, and you only got quicker with every passing month.

“I’m sorry-” the glowering man gave you a fake smile and turned around to his friend. “We need to talk.” He pulled him off to the side, way too far for you to hear, and sighed and shook your head.

“Hey, horse.” You muttered, petting him a few times. “Do me a favor, would you?” There was no verbal answer, of course. “If you think I should go with them, stomp your foot twice.

You didn’t even need for him to stomp his huge feet for you to know what you were doing. The men seemed more honorable than the ones you were warned about, and for some reason, you knew that you could trust them more, even if the blond one was angry. The time it would take for you to earn the money would be past three weeks, and in three weeks, you could potentially already be in Auren. It made no sense for you to not take the deal, so you decided that you would make sense.

Minutes later, a red faced Steve and a frustrated James came back over, only to find you talking sweet to James’ grey horse.

“What do you need to sew?” James asked, hands on his hips, near his sword though you knew that he wasn’t going to be using it. “Supplies?”

You tried not to smile. “I have everything but cloth and string that matches the colors of your clothing, really.”

“We don’t care much for looks,” Steve muttered and turned to his own horse, giving you his back. “Just do what you do, and we’ll pay you.”

“We’ll pay you and,” the brunet added, giving his friend a dirty look. “You can ride with us, but you’ll have to share horses with someone.”

“You,” you said automatically, making Steve turn his head your way. “You seem to be the one most on board with me coming, so… you. Please.”

“Fine by me,” He said, shrugging. “We should get you out of the cold and set up camp.”

You nodded, and your shoes crunched on the snow as you walked forward. Right before you hoisted yourself up on Bucky’s horse, you heard the other man call out at you. “Don’t try it if you can’t do it yourself-” you interrupted him by effortlessly swinging onto the horse, scooting back to give the man enough room for when he got up himself.

“You ever rode a horse before?”

Not to my knowledge. “No.”

Steve gave you a long look, scrutinizing and breaching into the rude factor. He nodded his head after the lengthy stare and then looked towards Bucky. “We riding out?”

“She’s going to freeze if we don’t set something up, and a fire, too.” You agreed with that mentally. Bucky hoisted himself up and then tapped his horse quite lovingly before the both of you started on a trot, your legs trembling against the backs of his from the freezing cold.

§§

You didn’t realize that you had fallen asleep until you felt yourself hit the ground. Not a sound came out of you as you roused yourself from your sleep, blinking slowly as you registered the cold, and the sound of shouting.

“Shit!” You felt yourself being picked up by the arms and you sighed, feeling your wet clothes get even more damp. Your shoes were as good as gone. Your shirt was barely salvageable and your pants were probably better off if you took them off. “Are you-”

You were traded off into another set of arms, and you nearly flinched when warm hands touched your neck. “Is she alive?”

“Yeah, but we need a fire. Now.”

You shook your head and opened your eyes, blinking once you saw the night sky above you being halfway blocked by Steve’s face while he peered down at you, that same suspicious and questioning look that he had before on his face again. You raised your arms up and put your hands together, rubbing them to get some friction going, and hopefully some heat. You were cold, and hardly awake.

Before you even knew what you were doing, you stood up on your own, reaching for the bag on your back and pulling it in front of your eyes, your hands digging for something.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, his tone annoyed. “Take it easy.”

You ignored him easily as you took out the thick quilt that you made that was folded up and nearly done. You grunted when you realized that you never quite finished it, and then you pulled out your scissors. Your hands shook as you found where you left off and realized that cutting and tying would do nothing but ruin it.

“Are you seriously trying to knit right now?” Steve asked, irritation leaking into his question as Bucky worked on starting a fire not too far away, diligently blowing and running stones against each other.

“Gotta finish,” you mumbled, and then you shook your hands out.

“Just put it on, worry about finishing later-” he was cut off by your hands working rapidly, threading the thick material through your largest needle at what was almost your top speed, never missing once. He stared down at your hands and your face as your concentration never broke. You finished the last line, grabbed scissors, and ended it before you wrapped it around yourself. “How… I thought you said you were never taught.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Fire’s ready,” Bucky called, and you stumbled during your first two steps only to fall forward and be caught by Steve, who made an exasperated sound. “Don’t put the blanket in the fire, Y/N.”

You were freezing. You were tired. You had just finished a knitting project that you assumed would take you much longer than you thought. And you had a feeling that everything you were feeling was going to be a constant thing on the journey that you had barely begun.

The morning after you felt better, and the sun hitting your skin made you glow like a golden flower. You were back to the slightly bubbly attitude you naturally had, waving to Bucky when you woke up and saw him still on watch, immediately starting to knit something.

“Those socks?” He asked I’m a raspy voice after watching you for a few minutes, and you nodded.

“I’m making a few pairs for all of us.”

“How much material do you have?” He looked at your bag, and you laughed. It seemed small, but you lived confined all your life. You knew how to compress things to make them fit, and you knew that to anyone else, your bag probably seemed like a magic trick.

“A lot,” You mused, looking to the side as Steve woke from his sleep at the sound of your voice. “All my life’s savings have gone to material to sew, fabrics of all kinds.”

“Why didn’t you save to get a train ticket?” He asked softly, almost like he knew that he probably shouldn’t have asked.

Your fingers stopped moving as quickly as you thought, your movements much slower, slow enough for them to see what you were doing with them. “I could live without making it to Auren, I suppose,” you replied just as soft, looking back down to your hands. “But… sewing? No. I couldn’t live without doing that.”

“You love it that much?”

Your expression of nonchalance turned into muted confusion when he asked that. Did you love sewing? You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure if you loved it or if you knew it, and those were two different things. It was your way of life that you would never abandon, but did that mean that you loved it? “I… I know it, I think.” You dropped your arms onto your lap. “It’s the only thing I have, I guess.” You had sewing and dancing, the kind that all the commoners learned to do.

Steve frowned, too. “Have from when?”

A small scowl formed on your face, the same one that you hid from the younger kids when they pressed on for you to remember something that you clearly didn’t. You wiped it off of your face and just gave a shrug. “I don’t know. But it’s the only thing I have in this world that is mine, so I’ll keep it.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, giving Steve a look when he saw that the ever persistent man was about to keep pressing. “Do you think you can sew and ride at the same time?”

“Probably,” you answered.

Steve stood up. “Then let’s get it moving.”

You had been given Steve’s pants to work on while you rode, and you started with the hole first. You found a fabric that matched the color relatively closely and went with it, finished within forty minutes. You couldn’t do much about the length other than estimate how much longer he needed them, and your guess was two and a half inches or so.

By the time you were almost done with the first leg, you looked at the sun and realized that you were going in the wrong direction. “Uh…” you started softly, and you felt Bucky tense up. “Where- this isn’t the direction we’re supposed to be headed.”

“We have to make a short detour, pick up a friend.”

“How far is your friend?”

“Shouldn’t be more than twenty leagues from here,” Bucky answered, his strong voice louder than the cutting wind. “He’s good people.”

“Does he live where cloth is available?”

“I thought you spent all your money?” Steve asked from beside you, his eyes watching your every move, like they had been the whole time.

“I did,” you confirmed, and you smiled when he looked confused. “I can basically talk my way into getting anything,” you said, and you watched him roll his eyes. “Except for someone to adopt me, I guess.”

You felt Bucky’s snort more than you heard it, and Steve had a look on his face that said that he didn’t know if he was allowed to laugh at the joke or not, but you shrugged. “Is that one of your talents?”

“What?”

“Sweet talking.”

You made a face. It had been something that came slower, like a memory that was in the part of your brain that was much less quicker than the rest. It was the reason some didn’t ever warm up to you at the orphanage, especially the adults. They called you charming, they said that the combination of your smart tongue and your “accent”, whatever it was, was telling a different story than the one you remembered.

“If I hadn’t seen you being brought in by that man myself, I would have called Marta a liar. You’re no orphan. You- you were something else. Someone else.” The Warden’s words haunted your mind every so often.

“It’s something I think I might have known how to do before.”

“Before what?” Steve asked, and you breathed in through your nose, ignoring the sting of the cold air.

“Before I lost my memory.” The world froze there. “I woke up in the snow, someone brought me to the orphanage, and I don’t remember anything before that.”

“What do you mean, you don’t remember?”

“It means that I don’t know,” you said. “I don’t even think Y/N is my real name. I didn’t remember what it was, so I picked it. I knew how to read, and I saw it in a book, so I took it.”

“Holy… when were you put into the orphanage?”

“I was… I think I was fifteen or sixteen. It’s hard to say, no one could tell my age without giving me an exam and I said no to that one,” you chuckled, but neither man was laughing. You hadn’t even realized that you stopped riding, and that Steve had turned his horse so that he was looking at you head on without having to turn his body.

“You don’t know who you are?”

“I know who I am,” you said, getting a little defensive. Even though

“You just said that you didn’t remember what happened to you through the first sixteen years of your life, that’s a huge chunk of time.”

“Well, I know who I am now.” Steve frowned deeply. “I’m Y/N, I like to knit, and I’m good at talking. That’s it. That’s all you need to know. That’s all I know.”

“Have you tried to find something out?”

“What do you think going to Auren is about?” You quizzed, feeling oddly satisfied when that shut him up. “I think someone’s there.”

“Who?”

“Someone who knew me,” you said.

“How do you know that they’re there?”

“I just have a feeling,” you said, your voice slightly whimsical as you thought about being reunited with people who cared about you, the people you had guilty lost recollection of. “And I also have nothing to lose.”

“None of us do,” Steve said, and then he snapped the reins on his horse and began trotting forwards.

“Steve, Buck!” You had fallen asleep and woken up to the enthusiastic shouting of a man. “That was much faster than expected.” You wiped your face with your hand and straightened your posture, attempting to stop your teeth from chattering like they previously were. “Do you have someone- oh, Holy Hera.”

A man with nearly the same look of shock that you had was looking at you, eyes wide. You would have assumed that what he felt was terror, if his lips weren’t slowly curling up into a smile. The world stood still again as you both analyzed each other, him with much more confusion and enthusiasm than you.

“Alexandra!” He nearly shouted, and he bent his body downwards, into a deep kneeling position. You tilted your head to the side, so confused by his sign of respect that you didn’t see the looks of panic on the other men’s faces. “I always-”

“Y/N.” Steve said sharply, interrupting him and catching all three of you by surprise because of his hostility. “Her name is Y/N.” He was the first to climb off of his horse, and he gave the man a pat on the back before entering the house like he had been a thousand times and lacked the need for invitation.

“Who is Alexandra?” You asked again, upset at being mistaken for someone for the second time.

“She’s um, she’s no one.” Bucky said, shooting his friend a look. “This is Sir Sam Wilson. He’s a great man, very honorable.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Sir.” You responded, helping yourself off of the horse and ignoring the icy air that surrounded Steve’s sharp actions.

You saw him look at your quilt, and then at the bag that had needles dangerously poking out. “You sew?”

“I do,” you responded, and he smiled. “I think I’m hired to be their seamstress and accompany them to Auren.”

“You have interest in going to Auren?”

“Yes,” you answered, drawing out the last letter to make it sound like less of a short answer. You smiled at him and moved to get off of the horse, ignoring the way that he rushed forward, hands outstretched to help you down. You swung both of your legs around and hopped right off without problems, prompting for the knight to give you an impressed look.

“You’ve ridden before?”

You knew you looked like you couldn’t even afford a bucket to put the horse food in, and that was why he was asking. It didn’t bother you at all, because the assumption was painfully true. “Actually, before I met them,” you nodded towards Bucky and Steve’s horse, “never.”

“Never?” He echoed. “Even the noblewomen request help from getting down off of their horses. I’ve helped probably every noblewoman who ever stepped foot in the palace walls by horse, besides- yes,” he cut himself off, brushing his hands on his pants and nodding sharply, like he had just remembered something. “Well, I’m sure you’re starving and in need of warmth. I think Steve has already seen himself to the food.”

Sam was right. There were already bowls out, and Steve had filled them with soup and was waiting for everyone else to start eating, even though he looked like he was using all of his strength to do it. His hands were hidden under the table and his leg was bouncing up and down as he stared at his bowl, hunger evident in his expression.

“What have you been eating?”

“We’ve only come across rabbits and squirrels,” Steve muttered, clutching his spoon.

“It’s been an unfortunate season,” Bucky added, giving Sam a look. “And you know that Steve doesn’t operate on an empty stomach.”

“Oh, do I,” He said, a grin on his face as he said it. “Help yourself, Y/N! Don’t be shy.”

“If you insist, Sir.”

“So polite,” he teased, and you cracked a smile. “Where are you from?”

You almost grimaced. “A small town, a ways away from here. Yakir.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s not very fun, nothing much to do.” That was the grossest understatement ever. There was quite literally nothing to do, and even if there was something to do there, you were restricted by the operators at the orphanage. “Except for learning manners, I suppose.”

That gained you a smile, and you took your own spoon, first putting it on the other side of your bowl before eating, and folding the napkin out on your lap, crossing your legs and sitting up straight in your chair, leaning over slightly to blow on the soup that you picked up with your spoon.

“This is very good, thank you for making it,” you said after having a bit of it, and you were being honest. It was good, even though you were sure that anything would have tasted good at that moment.

“You’re welcome,” Sam dragged out, eyeing you oddly as you ate the soup in your bowl, which put the attention on you at the table.

“Um…” you trailed off, trying to get at least one of them to explain why they were staring at you like you grew a head and cut it off and then went back to business.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” Bucky assured, and he picked up his own spoon and waved it around, making a big show of starting to eat and hoping that the others would do the same. You raised your brows and then put your lips together before parting them again to drink from the spoon, figuring that whatever weird exchange that was, was going to eventually be explained.

You finished first, and you felt weird about it. Your stomach was full, though, so you watched the fire crackling in Sam’s fireplace with a far off look in your eyes as you thought about Lucas, and what he could be doing.

Did he miss you already like you missed him? Did his young mind offer to spare him some pain by forgetting you were ever there? You almost preferred it to be that way, because you knew that the kid didn’t sleep without you feet away from him. He didn’t eat if you didn’t, he didn’t go outside if you weren’t watching him. You prayed that he wouldn’t remember you.

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

The words that came from Steve took you right out of your mind as you kept your eyes on the burning fire, a small smile gracing your face as you thought about him again. “Nothing.”

****

hey junebugs!! how are y’all? this is entirely self indulgent at this point- and i love this! can’t wait to do more with this steve! we’re gonna build a relationship here with this miniseries, no love at first sight this time! i don’t think anyone’s vibing with this rn but i at least hope y’all liked it! if you did like it, please drop a like or reblog or a comment! i loveee comments omg

#marvel fanfic #knight!sam wilson #knight!bucky barnes #knight!steve rogers #steve fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel au #anastasia au

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