Sebastian Solace x Reader
A/n: Haiii y'all!! so this fic was written for a Secret Santa event (11/17-12/25), my recipient was the lovely @cooliofango!! But y'all should join the discord if you like writing, and cod or just wanna meet some cool people :3 (p.s sorry if the formatting is off on post,, I wrote it on docs;;)
Cw: Prison (yes ur in there, but not specified if u are guilty/innocent), Cigarette/Smoking, Hospital (very shortly), Cuddling :3
They never could really beat it out of you. Most people are scared of prisons, rightfully so of course. Years of conditioning, rumors on forgotten forums, horror stories that haunted dark alleyways, features on the paper of the rescinding rights of prisoners. The fear of a complete loss of autonomy and freedom, a culmination of humanity at its worst.
Though that didn’t reflect your experience. I mean you were scared shitless of course, who wouldn’t be? But you were clever, had some real grit to you. Better off than most forsaken to these waiting grounds. Knew when to speak, when to be silent, and more importantly when to keep secrets. Play your cards carefully, never reveal too much of your hand, and you’d be out in no time. But it was only a matter of time before you attracted trouble, heard something you weren’t supposed to, forced into a role you didn’t wanna play. But the show must go on.
You should’ve stopped. The second you heard the rumors of an escape you should’ve reported it, be a traitor, surrender to the guards, lighten your sentence. Secure your freedom.
But it was there, it was right there. A taste of escape, a call to the other side. Run.
The others had gotten left behind, a leg caught on rusted gates or barbed wires, ripped away from the group by snarling jaws too eager to bite, chased down and dragged back into that cold, violent, and unforgiving hell. All slowly picked off until there was one.
You.
The expanse of your chest trembling, each shaking gasp for oxygen searing and burning, painful, network of twisting and turning of bones, joints, nerve, grasp and clench, tearing their way up, it was there right there, you’d make it, just a little further, and you’d be free, be free from this hell.
All you had to do was climb the fence, and you’d be free.
You could go home.
Home sweet home.
Kerchunk!
Freezing metal slips away, muscles twitching, a last ditch effort, but there was nothing to grasp.
Dragged back to that damned cell. You were done for, ditched your group.
Now all that remained were enemies out for your blood.
All that good behavior, playing nice, being nice.
If only you were a tiny bit taller, a bit stronger.
It would've been easier to escape, leave.
All for nothing, absolutely nothing.
The rise before
the fa—
______________________________________________________________
…
Pain.
The licking away at delicate nerves, ligaments, and muscle. There’s no other way to describe it other than wrong. Any movement or slight twitches just feel wrong.
There's a line that ties itself to your vein, it tries to grant you relief. More than anything though it’s a nagging itch that’s asking to be torn out. An IV drip.
Taking in your surroundings, you’re somewhere new.
An infirmary. That’s where you were, or at least you could assume.
Hands move to massage the formation of a dull ache finding home in the curve of the scalp. But your dominant hand stills, stopped by a shiny silver bracelet. Great. Well, at least one thing is for sure, you’re most definitely not in prison. Most likely transferred to a hospital, the guards couldn’t be bothered to put cuffs on you, especially if you were still stuck in that hell hole. Besides, the wall were the wrong col—
“You took quite the nasty fall back there.”
Though the quick jump of your nervous system attempts to ready itself, all it does this time is grant a sharp stab to your ribs. A wheeze of pain falls from your lips. Embarrassing.
“Don’t be dramatic, you're fine. Only a few cracked ribs, and a completely bruised back. But, I will say what you did back there was clever. They said you were the mastermind behind it all, that it was your plan.”
A sputtering of an excuse rips it way up your throat, but as the rambling flows from your mouth there’s nothing but pure boredom on the guard’s— mask? Was this the first time you actually looked up to see who you were talking to? You can feel it the way he smirks, or you think he does, happy you’re finally starting to grasp what the weight of the situation is.
“Look— I don't care, and I don't want to know. Whether you did plan it or not you were complicit. What I do care about is your resilience. You have some real grit to you, you know.”
His uniform is all wrong. The usual hardy, thick stained fabric that made noise with every move was now replaced with almost slick black camo, pattern hypnotic and shifting, and something churns in your gut. It’s all pragmatic, not a single part of it feels unnecessary or individual. Military.
A band clings tightly to the upper half of his arm. An insignia, not the usual one branded on the uniforms of the harsh hands of the prison. Upside down star, and an odd shaped crystal in the center, surrounded by swirling and twisting patterns, dragging you to the center. It’s captivating, dizzying. Who even was this? What even was this?
“You don’t work here, do you?”
“How would you like a job?”
______________________________________________________________
Acting electrician.
That was your job, at least for the most part. Apparently, there was an “opening in the position”, and they needed to find a sucker that’d take the job with no questions asked.
It’s not like you had a choice anyways. The charges racked up for causing a riot, attempting to escape, and the sheer amount of property damage from the incident was enough to cause any mutt to heel.
A facility thousands of feet below the ocean, waiting. The light was impenetrable that deep, no evidence of what’s above, the closest thing to nothing one could get.
The weight of it never really lets up. It digs into the straining flesh that protects your squish insides, all threatening to spill over. The constant pressure. A drive that forces boots to continue dragging themselves forward.
Your uniform, Prisoner Diving Gear, PDG, or rather the leash for ‘bad dogs’. Make it so they won’t bite, can’t bite. The head-splitting beeps, a ringing bell that made you heel. It was smart in a way, really, all you had to do was have the ever-looming threat of getting your brains painted on the cold concrete to get anyone to behave.
Despite that you were better off than most. Bestowed the class of Middle Rank Prisoner. At least if you died it’d be in papers, be some sort of financial compensation to the connections that were long abandoned above, proof there was some ‘good’ from your existence down here. A little more incentive for you to be good.
It was easy enough. They had given you basic training behind the mechanisms to a majority of the machines on the facility. How to repair the turrets to the internal defense system, which wires to cut, strip, and reconnect for the generators, what tools were needed to stop the pipes from bursting, and how to cut the electricity for when something decided to break and electrify the water.
Though there was a bit of a positive down here, a friend, sorta. Navi, despite the backhanded comments the guards and other personnel had to say about her cold nature, was nice enough.
Maybe you were just starved of human interaction, that the one thing that was humanish, and wasn’t constantly trying to kill you you started to see as a friend. Coworker was probably the better term though. She wasn’t real, at least not in the same sense that you were. With how large the facility is, it was difficult to navigate, and even harder to find the things you had to repair. Navi would guide you to which rooms to go to, and what needed to be fixed. She was simply doing her job, just as you were, but regardless you appreciated her.
Though the journey was often long and arduous between jobs, most of the rooms you walked through were empty for the most part and had nothing to fix, or were just barely functional enough all you could really do was raid the room or trudge on forwards. There wasn’t much useful there to you, none of the documents shoved in drawers or spilling out from lockers had any use to you. Maybe a flashlight and a lighter, but you had already gotten a hand cranked flashlight and hadn’t had to use your lighter even once.
Time feels like it moves differently down here. You can’t be sure what day it is, or even time, only moving from moment to moment.
“Currently there are no available jobs for you. Please take this time to prepare yourself in case any of the machinery is to no longer be in operation.”
That’s strange. You weren’t the slowest worker, rather the only worker, and more often than not your responsibilities tended to pile up quickly. Between the anglers short circuiting the lights in the rooms, at worst breaking them, and having to constantly repair the generator so the internal tram could be used by both yourself, and other personnel there was always something to do.
But you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
You could simply use the time to wander around, relax, and actually rest for once. Maybe if you were lucky you could find a sea bunny room, and cuddle up to one of them, they were the closest thing you could find to a pillow. Though they tended to get a bit grabby. You’ve lost more flashlights than you could count. Though they always gave something in return, so at least it wasn’t all a loss.
Once they even gave you half a pack of cigarettes, not like you even smoked, but the sentiment was nice. There was even a lucky one inside the pack.
Feet quickly moved against the concrete, time seemed to move quicker when you didn’t have anywhere or anything to be. Soon enough the soft inviting alcove of red carpet, couches, and fluffy little bunnies greeted you. Laying down, the bunnies surround you, though they were most definitely more concerned with the contents of your pockets than anything else.
It’s nice. This is the first time you’ve gotten to relax since being down here. It was anyone's guess if being down here or stuck in prison was a worse fate, but at least here there was a semblance of drive. Something to keep you from stagnating, nipping at your heels and urging you to move forward, improve, continue. Even if you were losing yourself, instead of being a prisoner now you were a tool, something to be used and discarded when there was no longer a need for you.
Something weighs heavy on your eyelids, the urge to be consumed by relaxation. It’d only be a couple minutes at most. You deserved it, after all your hard work and cleaning up after the expendables and monsters down here. Besides, Navi told you to prepare yourself for any future work you had to do, and if you wanted to perform the best you could you had to be well rested, no?
______________________________________________________________
…
There’s someone rummaging around through your pockets.
Something— slender, cold, sharp…
This, this isn’t a sea bunny.
The quick motion of grabbing the thief proves futile once you feel something wrap around you. Pressure grasping at the entirety of your torso, huge, imposing. Which monster even was this?
A quick flash of a yellow glow blinds you, overwhelming your sight. Blinking away your blurry vision, you see it, or rather, him.
Z-13, the previous electrician. He’s even larger than Navi had told you. His pale blue skin illuminated by the anglerfish light that sprouts from the soft locks of inky hair.
“So you’re my replacement, huh?” The words rasped from his throat, reverberating in the air, your heart begging to break out of your ribs. Was this it? It’s a bit cliche, being killed by the person you replaced, though nobody ever liked a scab.
Although you expect the quick crushing squeeze of a hand to come, and the cracking of ribs to finish you off, he slithers off with you in tow. The motion of it is odd, a bit nauseating but soothing, like the back and forth motion of a wave.
“Where are you taking me?” You question, though the words come out more like a squeak, your lungs hitching with every breath.
“So it can talk. Well, Expendable, I have a proposition for you.” There’s something behind his words that throws you a bit off. He almost sounds desperate.
Turning a corner he takes you into a room. It’s deeper than you’ve ever gone into the facility. He ducks into a crevice in the wall. It’s a small room, a couple of servers line the wall, there’s a fenced off section. Entering inside there’s a computer. Though the screen is off, a black expansive void, no warmth of light coming through.
He gently places you down, right next to the computer.
“Expendable, I need you to do me a favor and stop— turning on all the damn lights in the facility!” there’s a harsh slam of his fist against the desk.
“Do you have any idea how many times you’ve blown out fuse for him, and do you have any, any idea how hard it is to get my hand on them! Don’t even get me started on—” though he continues to rant, about how ‘shit’ of an electrician you are, and how his ‘dead grandmother could do a better job than you’ you can’t help but drift your attention elsewhere.
The computer case is open, the system unit inside it looks normal, for the most part. But the stench of something bitter, almost like burning rubber, bites at your nose. You’re not sure what it is you’re looking for, not even half as sure what’s normal and abnormal. But your intuition guides you to a small piece. A fuse. The clear plastic is a bit darker than usual.
Digging through your breast pocket you find a fuse, always carrying spares if any of the generators decided it would be a great day to take up what you could assume would be days of your time. Quickly making work of what you got, you switch out the fuse. His hand quickly shoots out pinning yours to the desk.
“What the hell do you think you’re—”
Though his threat is interrupted by the computer hums to life, a little chime indicating the system was now operating.
“Oh, hey Sebastian! What happened?” The voice is robotic, but the inflections and tone sounds human, similar to Navi but it lacks any callus.
“Oh, nothing kid. Just give me one second while I talk to this… person.”
Sebastian, as this AI called him, is quick to drag you off, scruffing you by the back of your uniform.
The talk was more like instructions, being talked at rather than to. Continuing from this moment you were to no longer keep all the lights fixed in the facility as they tended to send a power surge when a large amount of them went out. Blowing a fuse to the computer, or Painter as you should call him now. In exchange for you now being a lazy bum, and not really doing your job Sebastian would jam your PDG. Granting you back a tiny bit of your autonomy, Navi and all other personnel would be none the wiser.
______________________________________________________________
Since that moment things have been different.
You still do the jobs Navi sends you to, it’s nothing new, though now a lot more rooms are often ‘forgotten’ or left on the backburner in place of working on other things. Now that you’re on civil terms with the Painter and Sebastian, you visit them quite often, more so Painter than Sebastian.
Painter is fun to hangout with, he reminds you of the world above, what once used to be your reality. It’s nice playing with him, whether that be chess, checker, or even solitaire once.
Sebastian is a bit more callused, rough, and hardened with you.
After the amount of times you’ve forced him to go on a tirade, and raid the facility for any possible fuses from every nook and cranny that could possibly hold one, it’s no surprise he’s not the biggest fan of yours. It’s not like you tried to get into his good graces either, seeing how aggressive he could get with unruly expendable it was better not to test your luck.
Especially at this moment.
In trying to find more games to play with Painter, you go to Sebastian hoping he has a deck of cards, at least one of the expendables must’ve snuck something with them down here. Not like it’d be seeing any more use from them.
Besides, you deserved it. Urbanshade suddenly started sending a mass amount of expendables at once, and you had to clean up after all of them. Between running back and forth between rooms, and you also having to deal with the sudden uptick of all the monsters actively it’d be nice to relax a bit.
Approaching Sebastian’s store, you wonder what you could possibly trade with him to get your hands on a deck of cards, assuming he had one. Nothing's for free, and he expected that most of all, maybe your half pack of cigarettes and lighters would do the trick, he did seem like the ty–
Crash!
The loud sound that rips through the air instinctively forces your legs to carry you to a locker, but no other sounds or signs indicate anything else is wrong. It came from inside Sebastian’s shop, maybe he just dropped something?
Ducking inside the vent to investigate your meet with a very much injured expendable, a smashed up flash beacon, Sebastian looming above with an irritated look upon his face.
“Get out!” he barks at the expendable laying on the floor, but they didn’t seem to know when to quit, reaching towards the flash beacon. Just wanting to see how far they could push, how far Sebastian was going to go.
But you’re quicker, kicking the flash beacon behind Sebastian’s tail, out of reach, out of mind.
“You, get out of here before I smash up all the generators.” It’s a hollow threat, if anything else you’d only hurt yourself, and the expendable will just have the short term pain in the ass of having to work through it and you’d have to actually go fix it. But it seems to be enough of a threat to turn their tail and run.
“Smash up the generators, and who exactly is going to fix that?” he huffs out in amusement, seemingly entertained by your considerations of a threat.
“Shut up…” Is all you can really measle out, not like you actually wanted to put him in a worse mood.
The locks of hair upon his head are all askew, he’s panting a bit, and despite the blueish hue of his skin there’s the slight darkened bit of skin underneath his eyes. He’s run ragged by the looks of it, and considering most of the items in the shop are all easily obtainable he hasn’t been getting outside of his shop to look for any worth wild items. There’s still a twitch of irritation on his face.
A silence weighs down on the both of you. What were you supposed to say, hell what were you supposed to do? All you can really think of doing is giving him something, maybe that pack of cigarettes might lift his mood enough to play nice with you for a bit.
Digging the pack out of your pocket you look up at Sebastian, waving it up at him, an invitation. He’s quick to snatch it out of your hand, lighting it with the lighter that was tucked away in the pack. Managing to run through half of what remained in the box.
He tries to hand you one though you’ve never been a fan of the vice. In turn he jerks his head, urging you to sit with him. Sitting at the junction of his tail he curls up where you sat, his body encircling yours. The orange embers burn softly, lighting up the softness of his face. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him relax. He always seemed on edge, as if he were running out of time, out of space, out of possible choices to make.
His eyes flicker to yours, the corner of his lips twitches in catching you staring. Taking a drag of the cigarette he blows the smoke into your face, warm. It leaves a buzzing feeling in your chest.
“Thanks, for taking care of Painter. I… I really appreciate it.” the hum of his voice gently caresses your ears, the sensation warms your cheeks. Taking care of Painter, spending time with him, protecting him from expendables, and whatever else was no trouble. He gave your life a sense of normalcy, that something outside of the horrors that lurked behind every corner existed, something softer.
You feel surrounded by warmth, completely submerged in it. Maybe it was the second-hand smoke, or maybe it was how close Sebastian was to you. But for once you felt safe, not since being down here, but since being incarcerated being forced to carry this punishment, one that was never yours to bear.
Muscle, and tendons pulled taught relaxation, head fall back against smooth scales, and though the muscles that you rest upon tense up they only loosen with time. Closing your eyes, you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to leave the blacksite, or even if anyone above will remember you. But at least down here you won’t be alone.
