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madaqueue · 26 days

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Lost Cherry

pairing: yuta okkotsu x f!reader

themes/content: dark content. yandere/stalking. non-curse modern college au. language, smut. scent kink (?), alcohol consumption, drugging (no nsfw during), oral (f receiving), semi-public sex. 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.8k

a/n: "i love this guy and whatever undiagnosed anxiety disorder he has" is my fav yuta quote i've ever heard and honestly...me too (and yeah this is based off the tom ford perfume what about it)

Yuta noticed everything about you. How could he not, when the essence of perfection, an angel reincarnate, was here before him?

He truly saw you, his dark eyes boring into your soul as he soaked in your every move, every reaction, every thought.

When you met him your freshman year of college you thought he was sweet, albeit a little strange, his intense gaze putting you slightly on edge for a reason you couldn’t quite pin down. But nevertheless he was always the perfect gentleman, holding every door for you, driving you to class when it rained, bringing you your favorite foods when you were sick. He did it without question, as though caring about you came second nature to him, like it was his one true state of being.

The two of you continued growing closer over the years, sleeping on each other’s couches when study nights ran long, going to concerts of a band you loved together, cooking your favorite foods. It was almost uncanny how similar you two were, sharing the same taste in everything, Yuta’s smile never faltering as you gawked at him in disbelief when he recognized the obscure reference you made or when he happened to guess your coffee order. “I guess it’s just fate,” he’d grin as you laughed in awe.

But it’s not fate, he thinks. Fate would never be so careless as to risk letting you slip from his grasp; no, it was him. Time and time again he outsmarted the universe, foiling its plans to separate you. He knows you because he sees you, understands you, in a way no one else ever will (he’ll make sure of that). It wasn’t hard, really - he was always naturally observant, calculated, patient. All he needed to get close to you was a few chance meetings, accidental run-ins, where he could show you just how much he cares about you. And you, being as sweet and kind as you are, fell right into his open arms.

He loves you because he sees you.

He sees the way your lips curl into a smile as you sip your drink from across a crowded bar, a slight frown forming across your features as some pathetic excuse for a man tries to speak to you, making an idiotic joke you politely laugh at; he sees how you fidget with your hands, pulling at the chipping nail polish during class, a tell-tale sign you weren’t understanding the material (and an opportunity for him to explain it to you later while you studied); he sees the way you move when you’re alone, when you think no one’s watching, when you finally let your guard down and ease into the truest form of yourself.

It’s almost like you wanted him to see you, presenting yourself to him like a book with the pages peeled open and the cover ripped off, making it impossible for him to look away. It was only natural for his eyes to wander the words of your soul, mastering the lines and sentences of what makes you you.

So it’s no surprise when he gifts you a perfume that perfectly encapsulates your energy, your essence. After months of searching he finally found one that met his standards, living up to his mental representation of who you are. He knows you’ll love it, and you do - you begin wearing it everyday, the sweet scent of your skin filling his senses whenever you step into a room. The warm, amber notes become equivalent to you, a signal of your presence, a smile gracing his lips every time it wafts by him.

The one thing he doesn’t tell you is that he bought a second bottle, just for him, his best kept secret, the cherished liquid that evokes vivid memories of your laugh, your eyes, your skin, your voice, your everything when he smells it.

It’s harmless, really, when he sprays it on his pillow to help him fall asleep, calmness immediately washing over him as he pictures you there, holding him. He could practically feel the warmth of your body in his empty room, imagining how your soft hands would trace his body.

And when he wakes up, the scent of you still lingering, a smile graces his face as he nuzzles into the cool pillow.

It’s not his fault when he grows dependent on it, spraying the liquid into the air as he screws his eyes shut, picturing you. The way you’d kiss him, how smooth your skin would be, how soft your lips are, how your hands would feel wrapped around his cock, how warm and tight your cunt would feel around him. As he slides his fist around his length, he can’t help but moan your name, the idea of you filling his mind.

You.

One word, all-consuming. You occupy his thoughts, cloud his mind in bliss, every waking second. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

So when he sees you at a house party, wrapping your arms around his neck as you go in for a hug, why the fuck do you smell different?

“New perfume?” he asks, trying to hide how visibly taken aback he is as he pulls away from you.

Nodding, you take a sip of the drink in your hand. “Mhm,” you hum over the music. “Friend got it f’me. Y’like it?” you slur slightly, swaying in his grasp.

“I-it’s nice,” he stutters, his fingers beginning to dig into your arms.

How could you?

Glancing down, he notices the nearly empty cup you cling to, mind racing as he formulates a plan. “Want me to get you another drink?” he asks, steadying his thoughts and tilting his head innocently, hiding the rage he feels behind his dark irises.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, lip gloss glowing under the LEDs, as your eyes lazily make their way up to his. Reaching out a hand you ruffle his hair, placing a sticky kiss to his cheek. “You’re s’sweet Yuta,” you murmur against his skin, holding your glass out for him to take.

This would be sweet, if it wasn’t for the vile, traitorous perfume that suddenly overwhelms his senses. It’s too floral, too dry, too not you.

“Be right back,” he purrs, placing a kiss to the top of your head before stepping away, afraid that if he stayed any longer he would do something he regrets.

Besides, he can’t pass up this opportunity: he gets to show you he can take care of you, how much he adores you, and get rid of the chance that anyone thinks they know you like he does.

When he returns, you don’t even notice the weird taste in your drink; why would you? You trust him, like you should. When your body starts to feel too heavy, legs struggling to keep you up, you lean on him, like you should. When your head begins pounding and you just want to lay down, you let him take you home, like you should.

In the comfort of your apartment, one all too familiar to him, he helps you change into pajamas before bundling you up under the blankets of your bed. You look so sweet, so innocent, as your head rests against the pillow, eyelashes fluttering as you ease into sleep.

Your mind is cloudy as you rest, body still pulsing with each beat of your heart, suddenly sensing his weight shifting from where he sits at the end of your bed. “Yuta?” you whisper weakly.

He could melt just hearing you call his name, your voice like honey. “Yes?” he responds, turning his head over his shoulder to face you.

“Stay,” you murmur, reaching a hand out to him.

God, he could die happy right here. He could afford a few hours of sleeping next to you, right? It’s not like there’s any urgency now, he’s already lined everything up, now he just has to knock it down.

“Okay,” he breathes, getting under the covers next to you.

The warmth of your body envelops him as you lazily wrap your arms around his torso, uncoordinated motions to keep him, your one source of stability, close to you. Your thoughts are fuzzy as you fade into Yuta’s softness, letting him overtake your mind. Shifting his weight he leans into you, head resting on yours as you bury your face into his chest. He holds you against him, the scent of your shampoo lingering on your hair, a familiar one, a kind one.

He waits until your breathing slows, soft snores leaving your throat as you rest peacefully against him. Gingerly untangling his body from yours he rises, making his way to your bathroom. Sitting atop your counter is the target of his task: the sacrilegious bottle of perfume. It takes so little for him to knock it off the ledge, glass shattering as it hits the tile, the strong smell suddenly overwhelming the confined space, making his stomach turn as he pictures you in it. Never again.

He softly pads back to your bed, careful not to wake you as he rejoins your shared warmth under the comforter. Overwhelmingly pleased, his heart races as a contented grin spreads across his face.

When you question him about it the next morning, it’s easy to brush off.

“Yuta?” you question sleepily after you return from the bathroom, “Do you know what happened to my perfume?”

Normally the frown across your face would haunt him, tugging at his heartstrings to see you unhappy, but now it takes everything in him to not show his excitement. “Dunno,” he shrugs, “maybe you knocked it over last night?”

“Mmm, probably,” you hum, settling back in next to him as your head rests on his chest, hoping you don’t notice how his heart races at the contact, your mind still too foggy to realize you never even told him that the bottle broke. “Thanks for taking care of me last night. Sorry I got so drunk, I don’t know what happened.”

“Nothin’ to apologize for,” he reassures, his arms reaching around you, “I like taking care of you.”

“Thanks, Yu,” you murmur, nuzzling your head further into the softness of his t-shirt.

It’s so easy, he thinks. Everything with you is just that, easy: it’s easy to make you trust him, easy to look after you, easy to love you.

So when he sees you a few days later, eating lunch outside between classes, it’s easy for him to go over and sit next to you, the grass tickling his shins as he crosses his legs.

“Hi, Yuta,” you smile, your cheeks slightly rosy in the sun as you lean your head onto his shoulder.

Before he can respond, a familiar scent hits his nose, the one that is so, undeniably, you. “You smell good,” he blurts out, unable to contain his excitement.

A giggle escapes your lips at the sudden compliment, the sound soft and sweet. “Thanks,” you laugh, “it’s the perfume you got me, so I’m glad you still like it.”

“O-of course I do,” he stammers, “I picked it because it’s perfect for you.”

Looking up at him, you don’t miss the slight redness covering his face as his adoration for you begins to slip through the cracks of his resolve. All you can do is continue giggling, the most angelic sound in the world echoing in his mind, as he melts before you. “You’re too sweet, y’know that?” you ask.

Popping one of the cherries you brought for lunch into your mouth, a comfortable silence falls between you as Yuta continues staring at you in awe - how could you be so perfect? He has to stop himself from nearly drooling as he watches your tongue work the pit from the flesh of the fruit, the way your lips move absolutely tantalizing. He has to have you.

Sensing his gaze, you turn to face him. “Want one?” you ask politely, holding the bag out to him.

As you shift the richness of your perfume again wafts towards him in the breeze, tearing down any remaining walls of shame or embarrassment left encasing his feelings for you. Suddenly he leans forward, one hand going to the back of your neck as his lips crash into yours.

The kiss is messy, needy, as his tongue slides into your mouth. His body presses against yours, desperate for more of you, as you fall into the grass. His hands are everywhere, finally able to feel the one thing he’s been thinking about for years, as they roam your body.

Pulling away slightly, you breathlessly try to get his attention with a call of his name, but he doesn’t stop, only shifting his weight to kiss down your neck. Everything about you overwhelms his senses as he sucks against your skin, leaving a trail of bruises behind. His.

Your back arches off the ground as he moves lower, lips trailing kisses down your abdomen over your clothes as his palms grasp at your tits, your stomach, your ass, any part of you he can find, his touch hot. When he begins undoing the button to your shorts, a wave of panic overtakes you as you process what he wants.

“Y-Yuta,” you stutter, your hand reaching down to tilt his chin up, forcing him to face you. As he does, your face flushes at just how feral he looks, his pupils blown wide and lips parted as he pants expectantly.

“Please,” he whispers, “need to taste you,” his eyes moving back between your legs as he continues removing your shorts.

“B-but-” you begin, worried about the chance of being seen if someone were to walk past the small field you sat in, your gaze moving across the open space.

“There’s no one here,” he explains without looking up, sensing your nervousness. “I’ll make you feel s’good, I promise.”

Glancing around, you confirm the absence of any other students or professors, biting your lower lip nervously as you acquiesce.

Frankly, Yuta didn’t care if there was anyone around - once he started, he couldn’t stop.

He tugs your pants off, pausing only momentarily to admire the wet spot in your panties before pulling the flimsy material out of the way, his mouth attaching to your cunt. He moans as his tongue meets your folds, so much better than he could’ve imagined. The sound vibrating against your skin elicits a sharp gasp from you, your hands instinctively reaching down to his hair.

“Yuta,” you whine as his tongue glides up you.

God, he loves the way you say his name; he needs to hear it again.

His palms trace down your body to hold onto your thighs tightly, nearly leaving more bruises against your skin as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. Swirling around your clit he whines as your hips move up, desperate for more friction, his heart swelling at the idea that you need him just as badly as he needs you.

After years of loving you he knows just what to do, exactly how to move to make you feel good, his compendium of your body finally paying off. Slipping his tongue into you, another whimper escapes his throat as you moan his name. Bringing one hand down he roughly circles your clit with his thumb, using the exact pattern he’s seen you do more times than he could count, one he knows is guaranteed to bring you closer and closer and closer.

As your grip on his hair tightens, he knows it’s working.

His mind is flooded with you, your smell, your taste, your sounds, your everything. He loves it, he wants to crawl inside you and live in your heart forever, just like you’ve done with his. He wants to make a home in the corner of your mind, getting to see the most private and intimate thoughts you have that not even he could be privy to.

The only thing tethering him to reality is your soft voice calling his name, the most soothing rhythm in the world as your body begins to shake, heat building as you approach your release.

“Yuta,” you whimper, “m’close.”

Warmth spreads across his body, knowing he’s the one making you feel good, taking care of you, loving you, like nobody else ever could. His motions pick up, messily grinding his tongue against your cunt as you pull him into you. Everywhere he presses feels like flames, heat pricking over every inch of your body.

His name leaves your lips like a prayer as you come undone on his tongue, a series of whines reverberating against you from Yuta as he continues messily lapping you up, desperate for anything more you’re willing to give him.

When he finally pulls his face away from between your legs he’s immediately back on top of you, his lips pressing into yours with the same feral desire. His breath is hot against yours as you taste yourself on him, the entire thing overwhelming your mind as your body comes down from its high.

Pausing for only a moment, his eyes flutter open as he looks down at you, a gentle sheen of sweat across your features, grass surrounding your hair, cheeks a soft pink. Everything about you so, absolutely, undeniably perfect.

“Mine,” he whispers to himself, so quietly you nearly don’t catch it, before his lips are on yours again.

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pigfacedbitch · 9 months

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Let's Break Up (II)

summary : you try to do the break up prank on your boyfriend.

word count : 0.5k

type : headcanons

pairing/s involved : Leo Valdez / Frank Zhang / Will Solace x Reader

warning/s : none

here is my masterlist! Part I is composed of Jason, Percy, and Nico.

Leo Valdez

"I don't love you anymore. I want to end this."

He will think it's joke but when the 'I'm kidding!' never comes, he tries not to make a big deal out of it.

Just chill and shrug like he was expecting it to happen.

"Oh well, if that's what you want."

He will overthink every situation where you acted suspicious; rejecting his affections, flirting with other guys— you know... signs of possible cheating or interest in other people?

Not that he doubts your loyalty but Leo's sense of inferiority can cloud his judgement; it's himself he is unsure of.

I'm not enough for her. There are better guys out there. I'm supposed to understand. Thoughts like that.

You better say it's a prank right away! Because once you let him go, he will probably cry and lock himself in Bunker 9.

You had to knock continuously on the metal door and sing like Anna in "Do You Wanna Buid A Snowman?" for Leo to get out.

"It's just a prank, love. I'm sorry."

He lets out quiet sobs when your eyes meet, but he's obviously relieved.

COMFORT HIM AND NEVER DO IT AGAIN.

Frank Zhang

"Listen, this relationship is not working out anymore. I want to break up."

Now, if you've watched the part in American Psycho where Patrick Batman breaks up with his fiancee then you'll be able to picture this.

Frank will cry, loudly at that. It will catch the attention of anyone nearby, embarassing you.

He won't hold back. No, no, no, my friend. There will be whining and any other loud noises any human in pain is possible of letting out.

Did you instantly think you are an idiot for doing this? Yes, sir! 😊😙

"Frank, quiet down!"

"Oh gods, (Y/N) doesn't love me anymore!"

"I do, it's just a prank!"

Stops immediately, dramatically wiping his tears with a smug look on his face. With your mouth agape, he walks away from you like an action star in a explosion movie scene.

"Next time you try to prank me, don't tell anyone beforehand!"

"...Damn it, Hazel!"

Will Solace

This lovely son of Apollo is always busy due to his medical duties in Camp Half Blood so he truly cherishes the short moments he gets to spend with you.

In other words? Don't fucking waste his time.

"Will, I think we should break up."

He had encountered many campers pretend sickness for various of reasons— wanting to escape cleaning duties, skip training, and many more.

He will see through your lie. He always does.

If you decided to pull this prank AFTER he got to rest from the infirmary, he will just give you the don't-try-me-bitch look.

If you picked BEFORE he got to rest, you're dead. Expect him to throw medical tools at you.

Don't worry, not sharp ones. Just the scabs, cotton balls, and such.

It can be annoying though, not mention the scolding Chiron will give you later for wasting inventory materials.

"Will, stop it!"

"Take it back!"

"Sorry, it was just a joke."

The man very tired, okay? Stop with the nonsense and just cuddle with him. The gods know he desperately needs it.

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nouvxllev · 6 months

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the girl across your street || p3

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were only someone she met in her neighborhood, and she became someone unreachable. You were someone she only knew for half a year, and yet, the countless smiles she’d give you when you were around, the moments she looked you in the eyes where you thought you finally meant something to her, the times she’d say you were someone special to her—those became nothing but everything. You start to ponder on who could ever truly stay with you? Maybe it’s inevitable you’d go along with your life without someone special to you, someone who cherishes you like their dying wish.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: angst, yipee!

part 4 || masterlist

You've found yourself spending a lot more time with Jenna than expected—so much so that you could almost consider yourselves roommates, having explored and learned the backstory of every picture in her living room. You knew quite a bit about Jenna, maybe not everything, but you knew her down to her music taste. Which is, maybe not a lot to some, but it was deep for you. Learning about each other's music tastes felt like exchanging wedding vows.

The two of you frequently dined at fancy restaurants or strolled through nearby supermarkets around the corner from your neighborhood. Making you wonder on where the hell is Jenna getting reservations from at the most luxurious restaurants out of town. These outings became the go-to whether you both were feeling ecstatic or just wanted to unwind after a bad day. And your meetings with eachother started occurring later in the day rather than in the early mornings.

You were slowly falling head over heals, over and over again until you went mad with her. It had reached a point where not hearing Jenna's voice or feeling her presence beside you felt wrong.

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

"There's my favorite actress!" You ran towards her, a broad smile on your face that reached up to your ears. In your hands, you held a DSLR camera, not too large but not too small either.

Jenna, seated in her usual spot on the bench in front of her house, responded, "Not an actress," blocking her face with the camera you had pointed at her.

"—Yet," you grinned, "Don't you want to be in my special first video vlog?" Turning around, you gave the camera a chance to capture the changing scenery of the year, with leaves transforming into warm shades of orange and red.

You had big dreams of becoming a director, a career choice you had clung to since childhood. Piles of files filled with DVDs you had created when you were young. It didn't matter if you didn't have a deep story to tell, your videos were filled to the brim with stupid and idiotic stuff you used to do as kids and overall you were happy.

"Where'd you get that from?" Jenna asked, standing up to examine your camera's display. "Ooh… The quality's top-notch," she nodded approvingly.

"It was a very late Christmas gift from my friend I go to film school with. She saw me literally struggling with my phone, so she finally got me a camera for professionals only." You emphasized the word "professionals," feeling proud to have your very own camera instead of one borrowed from someone else.

She chuckled at your comment, "I've always wanted to film something on a camera," she whispered, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia.

You gently set the camera down, your heart trying to calm down due to how close she was to you.

"I… I have this project for my film class," you began, turning to face her. "We have to vlog something in our lives that we could watch a few years later in time. It's supposed to be something bittersweet, my prof would say." You laughed, hoping to gain Jenna's approval.

You noticed her eyes twinkling, her eyebrows raising in excitement, and her lips forming a big smile that revealed her dimples. Fuck, you were so in love, it was maddening.

"Then let this be the short film of a lifetime."

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The 'short film of a lifetime' became a series of short films of a life time. Capturing your daily talks and strolls with Jenna, hoping that one day, the two of you could meet up again and watch these videos, laughing to your hearts' content. It was a sweet memory you'd hopefully make, really.

The alarm failed to wake you up because you didn't even sleep. It was Jenna's 17th birthday, and being even a millisecond late was not an option. You hadn't been able to celebrate her 16th birthday since she had just moved to town weeks after that, you knew after months of talking to her. And now, you were determined to give her the best party yet.

You stepped outside in the outfit Jenna had picked for you during one of your shopping trips—a comfortable ensemble that solidified your opinion of Jenna's excellent fashion taste.

You had your gift ready for Jenna, all those months of saving up money and even starving yourself finally paid off as you bought headphones that she always wanted and was always ranting to you about how expensive it is, a pair of brand-new Sony Headphones to replace her old ones.

You turned on your DSLR camera, ready to record and all, until you looked up and see people loading boxes into a truck.

Your heart raced as you ran towards the truck, hoping against hope. 'Fuck, fuck fuck... Please, not today,' you repeated to yourself, breath ragged as you tried to calm down.

Spotting Jenna's sister Aliyah, you called out to her, "Aliyah! Aliyah, wait!"

Aliyah turned, a smile on her face. "Y/n! Hey…"

You exhaled, "Where's—Where's Jenna? Is she going back to your house for her birthday?" You set your camera down, your voice shaky as you released the gift bag you held.

"Didn't she tell you? She's going across the country; she just got cast for a character in a film!"

You dropped your camera, confusion and shock hitting you like a truck.

"What?"

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"There's my favorite actress!"

"Not an actress...

"—Yet."

The video played on and on, a retro sound mixed with sratches from the old camera you once cherished. You lay quietly down on your bed, your eyes starting to form eyebags, and the air starting to sound like a certain song you'd play when you're at your darkest times.

It's been half a decade since your last interaction with Jenna. Countless of sleepless nights, meals skipped, and relationships with others destroyed all because she moved across the country to pursue her acting career. Not once did she think to send you even a single letter, expressing how much she missed you or offering a simple greeting. But who were you to expect so much from her?

You get that she was busy, and you get that she has other matters to attend to. You knew for a fact the harsh reality of the entertainment industry demanded constant attention, and slipping up even once could mean being left behind. But a dark void in your soul could only want to ask of her a simple hi. You’ve watched Jenna through her films, her interviews, her Instagram stories, witnessing how she became a star. You were happy for her, there was no denying it, you were so happy for her she got to achieve the dream she was dying to succeed, but you couldn’t help but wish to celebrate it beside her, even for just one moment, rather from a distance like this.

You were only someone she met in her neighborhood, and she became someone unreachable. You were someone she only knew for two years, and yet, the countless smiles she’d give you when you were around, the moments she looked you in the eyes where you thought you finally meant something to her, the times she’d say you were someone special to her—those became nothing but everything. You start to ponder on who could ever truly stay with you. Maybe it’s inevitable you’d go along with your life without someone who’s special to you, someone who cherishes you like their dying wish.

When she left, your soul left with her. Now you were never the same. You never looked at things the same, walking down that street being something you’d regret, watching a film you’d think she would love could only make you breakdown into tears—missing her touch like you miss the warmth of the sun on a cold day. The world, once vibrant when Jenna entered your life, now appeared through somber lens, your simplest pleasures turned into tortures you would never wish on an empire.

You couldn’t be mad at her, no, you didn’t have the right to. How could you be so instantly attached to one person that they became your entire world? You spent your whole life creating memories you cherished with everyone around you. You had worlds to see, you had symphonies to hear from the beat of your headphones, you had comforting scents to smell whenever you walk into a familiar place, you had delicacies your mom once had made you when she was still in your life to taste, you had humans to touch—people that were close to your heart. Everything you had in the palm of your hands, taken away by a single glance from Jenna. It’s like your life suddenly meant nothing without her.

While you’re all smiles and laughs, trying to hide the fact you’re missing that one person who made you who you are now, thoughts of her still linger at night. You would find yourself after a grueling day, scrolling through the accounts Jenna had created, even reaching out to her closest friends or family members for any updates on her well-being. You still hope one day you’ll take that street yet again, reminiscing about the days when you were delighted to wake up on a cool winter morning and eagerly anticipate seeing someone, and that someone eagerly awaiting for you as well.

You sighed as you took a step on the street you were always walking on. It was already noon, and the feeling of not walking this road without the morning sun will always be so weird to you. The wind of the road reaches out to you like something of a horror film, your headphones you initially bought for Jennas birthday being the only escape to the reality you've sentenced yourself to, as if she was still there with you. If only you had known for what was about to strike you, maybe you would've confessed.

Like Jenna, you too achieved your dream job as a movie director. While you didn't work on big films, you were just happy you got to help bring stories to life, stories that Jenna often liked to read, hoping one day she'd maybe take interest in the films you directed.

As you walked, you find your eyes flickering to the bench Jenna used to sit down, a part of you wishing she would magically reappear and surprise you as if nothing had happened and it was all just a dream.

Then, someone was there—a brunette with the same hairstyle, engrossed in a book, much like the ones Jenna always loved.

"Jenna?" You called out, eyes widening.

The brunette started to stand up, book still in hand that was obscuring her face.

"Jen—! Fuck— Sorry…" You bumped into numerous people who seemed to have materialized on the street that wasn't crowded a moment ago.

“Jenna! Jenna, why didn’t you—" You extended your hand, wanting to touch her shoulder, feeling on the verge of breaking down into tears, desperate for an explanation, screaming whys and hows.

A car suddenly passed by you, the wind knocking you out of your senses.

Shit, it wasn't Jenna. It was never Jenna.

You were going insane. Why were you still grieving for something so alive, but so gone?

You were on your way to the location where your co-director, Emma Myers, had instructed the rest of the actors to shoot for your new film, Finest Kind. It was the first movie ever where you felt a bit uncertain, but you took it anyway. Emma was a friend you had made during your lowest days in film school, always there for your rants and providing a comforting presence that made you feel better about yourself.

Due to a morning that almost got you killed, you arrived 20 minutes late, earning applause from everyone when you finally reached the spot, Emma in the background shouting a rowdy 'Finally!' as the rest burst into laughter. It brought a genuine smile to your face, finally.

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You didn't know of the casting, since that was you, your technique. You enjoyed a bit of surprise in your approach to movie directing, a quirk Emma took note of, and so, everyone introduced themselves to you and the rest of the crew, forming bonds for the months ahead.

You sat in your chair with your last name written on the back, reviewing a script that the writers had printed out, it was fairly nice. You were already envisioning how you wanted it to go, and now you were standing up to take the affirmative with Emma, until, a certain voice caught your attention.

"Excuse me, could I…" A voice murmured behind you—a familiar voice you knew and loved from the very beginning. However, for some reason, your heart dropped, and you wished more than anything to erase yourself.

"Jenna?"

"Y/n."

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

a/n: yikes!!

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega

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newfallstrangeleaves · 10 months

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Yandere in the apocalypse

Strawberries

M!Yandere X GN!reader Warning: stalking, mentions of killing. Summary: Continuation of the nightly visit story. The world has ended but that doesn't stop your yandere to prove (to nobody other than himself) that he can give you anything. He goes out of his way to get you something you want but things don't go as planned. Author's note: It was really nice to see the first part (and my first post) being so well received. Really thank you!!

Never will he be far behind. Always in the shadows watching over you. He truly is your guardian angel, undefeated protector, perfect boyfriend…

Though in a perfect world he would be close to you, show you how good he is to you. But because of the friends of yours most of the time Aaron has to go unnoticed. But the times he does get close, he cherishes.

The weather is nice and Aaron has spent the last 4 hours in a tree. Your group has made the decision to leave the city and head out into the wild. A decision he doesn't exactly agree with, for many reasons. Though your group has decided upon two night watchers now he dont believe for a second they could do a better job than him.

Half of the group has split up from camp and gone out to look for food. You sit together with a girl with dark braids and a blond girl, who looks to be in need of a shower soon. The boy is there too, blissfully unaware of his surroundings and listening in on the conversation.

“I LOVED to eat Moules frits, I could eat a whole bucket of those things.” The blond girl says.

"Oh, you snob!” The braided girl exclaims. “Can you say something normal like a burger?”

“But what is so weird about Moules frits? It's just Oysters and Fries! The blond pouts.

“Wrong! It's Clams not Oysters, you idiot.”

"You seem to know an awful lot about Moles frits, huh? Y/N, who do you think the real posh one is?” The blond looks over at you who throughout this whole conversation has just been smiling at the bickering.

“Donno, seems like a tie, or what do you think Max?” You turn over to the boy who nods eagerly. You and Max exchange a look as the blond one rolls her eyes over dramatically, but the action prones a laugh out of the three of you.

“What foods do you miss, Y/N?” Max asks when the laughing has died down. You think for a moment.

“Well, not the canned potatoes that's for sure, or any other canned foods for that matter. I miss fresh ones, oh I know, I miss Strawberries!” You say. “And actually at this point I would be happy to have any shape, dried or fresh doesn't matter.”

“Me too.” A voice from the bushes makes everyone jump.

Even Aaron is about to fall out of the tree. But when the other half of the group returns he swears over himself over the lack of awareness. But the conversation had made him think. If his love wants strawberries then she shall have strawberries.

When night comes he sneaks down from his hideout. A week ago they passed a small community, odd people and overly religious. They had only really gotten a picture of them though three men who were out looking for a friend of theirs. The men had invited them back to their community but luckily your group had declined the offer. Good thing your group had caught their off vibes too and decided not to risk it. But when the both of your groups had parted ways and one of the men decided to turn back to you, Aaron felt nothing good would come with a second encounter. So the man was killed and buried before sunrise. By then the group was up and away.

But the men at the time had mentioned a garden filled with vegetables and fruits. Perhaps a tactic to lure you into their claws. But right now it's his best bet in finding Strawberries.

Traveling alone ment moving at a much quicker pace. Perhaps he will be back to you in less than a week!

When he arrives he realizes the men weren't lying. If something they were playing it down by a lot. Aaron could see “the garden” from a mile away by the size of it. The only problem he is facing now is getting in. It is surrounded by a huge fence, barbed wires, then on top of that they have built six hunting towers to guard from any intruders.

He decides to wait until night time and while doing so he can feel his eyes grow heavier.

He wakes up (all stiff from sleeping in a tree) to the luck of a lifetime. Rockets are firing from the other side of the garden, somebody else is planning to break in too. He brings his handy pocket knife and while the guard's attention is elsewhere he takes the opportunity to run straight for one of the hunting towers.

He just needs a little bit of luck to not be spotted now. Despite having two hunting towers at each side of him that could easily spot him he hopes their attention stays on the forest for intruders.

The darkness hides him long enough to cut through the fence. His pocket knife pliers are weak, it takes time to cut through the fence. But not impossible.

As he works up a hole big enough for him to fit through he can hear the guards discussing, the weak attack was quickly disarmed. But Aaron can sense them being on edge for anything else to happen.

When he is through it's in and out. Their attention is not on the plantation but he still tries to hide amongst the greenery. It doesn't take long before he finds the red little berries. There are rows upon rows of them. They won't miss a few. When he is done collecting and placing the container back in his backpack, he turns to make his way out again.

Just as he feels confident he is going to make it without getting spotted he gets just that. Spotted. He crawls through his hole as bullets start raining around him. His only option is to run and find shelter amongst the trees. He sprints as fast as he can, the trees approaching quickly. Just a few more steps.

Then he feels one of the bullets hitting its target, a sharp pain shoots through his thigh. He lets out a cry of pain but with the adrenaline pumping his veins he doesn't stop.

He pushes further and further through the forest even though he is not as fast as he would have liked, the people deciding to go after him seems to have given up the chase. Their voices grow more and more distant by the second.

The following days are hard. He has to stop multiple times to not strain his wound too much. Worry starts to grow more and more each day. As he is slowing down you are walking further and further away. The fear something would have happened to you while he was away grows stronger by the day.

When the pain in his leg is unbearable as he is fighting to keep up a good pace he wishes he never left you. What if something has happened to you while he was gone? Why didn't he consider this before he left? How stupid he feels.

He lets out a sigh of relief when he reaches a small lake and in the distance he can see your figure walking out in the water with your pants rolled up. So peaceful. Finally he can allow himself to rest and to heal.

Mission accomplished too. He feels pride grow in his chest as he watches you. He can give you something nobody else can. He can't wait for your reaction. A smile only he could give you.

The next morning you wake up and the first thing you see is a small package with a note attached to it.

“Whatcha got there?” Ginny asks as she frantically tries to brush through her blond curls with her fingers.

“I don't know. Was here when I woke up.” You turn over the note and read what it says out loud.

‘Got these for you.

Until we meet, A.’

“A? There is no one here who starts with A.” Ginny says loudly. A ruckus begins amongst the ones that are awake. Their discussion is loud enough to wake up the rest.

“What do I do with these?” You ask.

“Leave them, it's not worth the risk.” Felice says and pulls her braids out from the shirt she just put on. “Come, you go with me from now on.”

Aaron limps over to the spot you sat at as he is fighting tears. The anger and disappointment bubbling up in his chest. He wishes he could kill them, hurt them as they have hurt him.

But all he does is pick up the berries.

He knows revenge will come in due time.

#yandere male #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #tw stalking #post apocalyptic #yandere x y/n

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heartsforhavik · 6 months

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clean (sub zero, scorpion x reader)

warnings: self harm, slight angst to comfort

pairings: bi-han and kuai liang x gn reader (separate)

a/n: this is a bit self indulgent, i am now 10 months clean as of today. i usually don’t write kuai liang, but i thought he’d be one of the most comforting characters to have by your side. i hope this can provide some comfort to those struggling.

(please read the warning before you continue.)

bi-han walked into your bedroom and saw you looking down at your old wounds. they looked to be self-inflicted, as they were all faded straight lines covering your arms.

bi-han is no stranger to scars. as the grandmaster of the lin kuei, he has grown used to the injuries he gains in kombat.

but he was not aware you had scars of your own. especially self-inflicted ones.

“beloved?”

you quickly hid your arms as soon as you heard your boyfriend’s voice.

“good evening, bi-han. how are you?” you asked, pretending he saw nothing.

he went up to you and gently grabbed your arm, taking a closer look at your scars.

“what is this…?” he asked. he already knew the answer, but he hoped he was wrong.

you went quiet. there was an uncomfortable silence between you two, as the only sounds you could hear were his deep breaths and the wind blowing outside.

“a few months ago…” you took a deep breath, preparing for the worst. “i… wasn’t doing very well. so i resorted to the only thing i thought i deserved. i felt like such an idiot at the time. i was making so many mistakes, so i just decided to give myself a… punishment. i haven’t done it since, i swear-”

your boyfriend interrupted you by pulling you in for a hug. he knew you were most likely better now. but would hate for you to think he doesn’t care about your feelings.

“if you ever feel that way again, please let me know.” bi-han whispered, holding you tight. he never cared about someone like this before. and now that he’s had a taste of what it’s like to love, he doesn’t wish to part from it.

he has also never been in your shoes, so he wants to comfort you as best as he can. but he doesn’t exactly know how to comfort someone, so he hopes he can hold you in his arms and it’ll be enough.

you are enough. he just wants you to know that. even if he has to remind you over and over. even if he ever loses his temper and you get into a fight. he would still love you. he always will. bi-han cherishes you as one of the only people that truly make him happy, so he hopes what happened to you in the past won’t have to happen again.

kuai liang felt sick when he saw your scars. he hoped they were old. but whether they were old or new, he should let you know that if something was going on, he would be there for you.

he wanted to tell you that immediately.

“my love..?” kuai liang called out, trying to hold back tears. he tried not to cry, knowing this was about you, not him. but he couldn’t help but feel a wave of sadness wash over him at the thought of you hurting yourself. he cared about you so much, his biggest fear was losing you.

“yes? is there something wrong?” you asked.

upon seeing you, kuai liang immediately embraced you as if he hadn’t seen you in years.

“do you understand how much i love you? i will always be here for you. at your happiest and lowest. no matter what, i will always help you when there is something wrong. even if i cannot solve the problem, you know i will do whatever i can.” he whispered, as he looked you in your eyes, the ones that he loved very dearly.

“what is this about?” you asked nervously.

“i saw your injuries…” kuai liang mumbled.

his gaze fell down to your arms. there were so many scars littered across your skin. they were faded, but that doesn’t mean they were never there.

“i just…” kuai liang sighed. “…wanted to let you know that i am always here for you, if you ever feel that way again. i am so sorry that your emotions drove you to the point of self-harm. i am not judging, but i do not it to happen again. i’ll do everything i can to prevent it.”

you were better. you had no desire to harm yourself again. sometimes the thought pops into your head every now and then, but you refuse. even though you were better, you still appreciated kuai liang’s support and determination to prevent it from ever happening again.

“it’s been 10 months.” you mumbled, sitting down against the wall.

kuai liang gave you a ‘hm?’ sound, as he sat down next to you.

“today marks 10 months since i last did it. i’m 10 months clean, kuai liang.” you explained.

“i’m proud of you. let’s make sure that number doesn’t go down, okay?” he encouraged, patting your back as a sign of support.

“yeah.. i try. i always try.” you admitted, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“i know, my love. i know.” kuai liang smiled, giving you a kiss on the forehead. he truly was proud of you. you were so strong, and he admired your honesty throughout the conversation. he understood that your past was difficult, but he believed that someone’s past does not define who they are.

even though you have been through tragedy, your existence is not a tragedy.

kuai liang accepts you wholeheartedly, and he’ll always be there to support you.

#mortal kombat 1 x reader #mk x reader #mk1 x reader #mk1 bi han #bi han x reader #bi han x you #sub zero x reader #sub zero #mk1 kuai liang #kuai liang x reader #kuai liang x you #scorpion x reader #mortal kombat x reader

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iovetecchou · 11 months

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If I Can't Have You... ⧸ Jouno Saigiku

༞ Part 1.

༞ Contains...! angst, dark themes, detailed descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks, gaslighting, mind-breaking, slight!physical abuse, very toxic relationship, asshole!jouno, just absolute pain and suffering. use of pet names (darling, princess)

༞ GN Reader.

༞ 1,557 words.

Everything after that fateful encounter with Jouno was a blur. You have no idea how you even made it back to your shared apartment in one piece. His venom-laced words rang through your mind— over and over again.

You were in shock. This whole time you were nothing but an “Easy fuck.” to Jouno. The man you loved more than yourself. The man who took over your every thought, every action, every semblance of happiness.

You gave everything up for him, and for what? All you could focus on was the ringing of your heartbeat in your ears. Your fingertips going numb from all the anxiety coursing through your body.

“Ah… it’s six already? I need to start making dinner.”

You thought out loud. Your body moving on its own, as though you weren’t controlling your actions. Even now, Jouno held the strings. Present or not… he owned you.

Your brain couldn’t possibly comprehend that this was your reality. All that echoed in your mind was,

“If you so much as think of leaving me… I will know, and I will kill you.”

You knew you were screwed. Even if you began packing your things now, leaving and never looking back. Jouno would find you; and kill you. As promised.

Your mind played out constant scenarios of how you could escape and run away without a trace. But it was futile; Jouno would use everything in his arsenal to hunt you down.

Tears blinded your vision as you continued to prepare supper. Your shaky hands placing two plates atop the dining room table; an act that once brought a smile to your face now tainted.

Meals always brought you two together. You always valued those times spent with Jouno. Laughing over stories about his ‘idiotic’ colleagues from the day as his lips curled up into a soft smile. Complimenting you on your meal, telling you, “No one could compare.”

So all of that was a show? Just an act he maintained to keep you complacent? Did all of your cherished moments truly mean nothing?

The door swung open just as you finished up. Causing fear to course through your entire being. You froze as Jouno's words rang through your shared apartment.

“Princess, I’m home! I knew that divine smell from the hallway was coming from our place. Nothing compares to your cooking, darling.”

You physically could not speak. The words were trapped in your throat as you turned to face Jouno. He was smiling sweetly your way, walking over toward the table and taking his seat.

“Well? Aren’t you going to give me a kiss hello? I did just get home from a hard day of work, you know.”

Why was he acting as though nothing was wrong? You were more than certain that everything that went down today was real… right?

“O-Oh… right, I’m sorry.”

You managed to squeak out. Shaky legs made their way toward an awaiting Jouno. You placed your clammy hand atop the table for support. Leaning in closely toward him, even though every fiber of your being was screaming at you to pull away.

The second your lips captured his, you felt sick. No longer did his embrace feel safe; quite the opposite. Jouno smirked within the kiss at your physical reaction. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, your body trembling in place.

You pulled back as fast as you could. Noticing the lipstick stains on Jouno's collar as you stood upright. You felt nauseous, your stomach turning in knots from the sight alone.

"What's wrong, princess? You seem shaken up."

Jouno quirked a brow, reaching a hand out to soothe your hip. You took a quick step back, dodging his embrace completely. Jouno looked stunned for a split second before his expression twisted into something sinister.

His lips were curved into a nasty frown, eyebrows knitted where they lay. Jouno's whole expression became shaded, and his body became tense too. Your eyes widened as you watched his hands ball into fists from where they rested beside him.

"Oh… so there is a problem then, hm?"

His voice was razor sharp, not even a trace of Jouno's usual witty tone could be found. All you could do was shake your head in disagreement as you took a few more steps backward. Startling yourself as the cold countertop grazed your lower back.

Jouno rose to his feet slowly, making his way to stand before you. He towered over you, his hand grasped your chin firmly. Tugging your face up toward his own before he spoke up once more. "What… did you go mute? Use your fucking words."

"Yes..?"

His fingers dug into your cheeks as he forcefully shook your head in agreement. Pulling a small yelp from your lips.

Jouno smirked at your painful cry, making your heart ache even further. You scored your bottom lip with your teeth, not letting him get that gratification off your pain again today.

"Or no..?"

His grip got even harsher as he shook your head in disagreement this time. A shit-eating grin etched into his features, immensely enjoying the way you shook in his grasp.

To say you were fed up at this point was an understatement. Your fear subsided for a moment, being replaced by rage. You brought your hands up to grasp Jouno's hand. Yanking his digits away from your face and pushing him backward with everything you had in you.

"Of course— yes! There's a fucking problem. Why are you acting like nothing happened today? I walked in on you practically fucking another person— and you told me if I try to leave, you'll kill me. So of course there's a fucking problem, darling."

Jouno's smirk only grew wider at your words. His maniacal laughter filled the room, fueling your irritation even further.

"What? What's so fucking funny, Sai? Hm..? Tell me, was all of this— our whole relationship just a cruel joke to you? I gave up everything for you, everything. My family, friends— hell, I gave my whole life for you! And all you can do is fucking laugh in my face?"

His laughter only picked up the more you spoke. His hands grasped the edge of the dining table as he leaned back for support. Throwing his head back, reveling in his own amusement.

You couldn't think clearly. Your whole world was turned upside down in less than twenty-four hours. The person you loved more than anything was now nothing more than a stranger to you. But the worst part of it all; was that you still loved him— at least, a specific version of him. The one he showed to you, and you alone.

You reached out to him, balling the front of his uniform in your fists. You shook Jouno with all your might. Tears of frustration rolled down your cheeks as you cried out,

"Stop laughing— stop fucking laughing! I hate you, I fucking hate you…"

"No… you don't, princess. And we both know it. I bet the day I asked you to be mine was the greatest day of your life, hm? But to me… it was just another Friday. It meant nothing to me— you mean nothing to me. Accept that this is your life now, Y/N."

His words rattled through your whole being. Cutting you up from the inside out. Jouno was right… that was the happiest day of your life.

Was it so wrong of you to assume he felt the same way? That your relationship, the time you spent together, held any comprehensible significance to him?

You were too exhausted to fight with him further. Too shocked to even process that this was your life now. In that moment of realization, you didn't feel anything anymore. The tears still flowed freely, blurring your vision; but you couldn't care less.

"Accept that this is your life now, Y/N."

"This is your life now, Y/N."

Those words played through your mind like a record that endlessly skipped. You knew you couldn't escape; Jouno would kill you. Your family had no clue where you were and you didn't have friends anymore.

This was the end of the line for you. So were you going to accept it, or fight it?

Your body froze; your hands released the front of Jouno's uniform and went limp at your sides.

All of a sudden, your head snapped up. Jouno listened to your every move, trying to anticipate how you would react next.

"Darling, your dinner is getting cold. Why don't we eat before it all goes bad, hm?"

Your voice was eerily calm as you walked around the table. Making up his plate; as if nothing was awry. Jouno couldn't help the chuckle that slipped past his lips as he took his seat.

He didn't say a word, simply just honing in on your reactions. Sensing for anything out of place, he couldn't find such things. Your heartbeat was regular, body temperature was back to normal. And he couldn't hear any wavering in your voice.

He had broken you; completely. There was no fight, no drive left inside you. All that was left was a shell of the person you once were. An altered version of yourself, one that Jouno molded you to be.

"Same time tomorrow for dinner, Sai?"

"Indeed, same time tomorrow."

#jouno saigiku x reader #jouno x reader #bsd jouno #jouno saigiku #saigiku jouno #yandere jouno #bungou stray dogs jouno #saigiku jouno x reader #bsd saigiku #saigiku jōno #jouno x you #bsd x reader #bsd imagines #bsd angst #bsd #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs angst

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sleepy0s · 2 months

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Maybe.

Perhaps he was in love.

Love, a feeling Grian had gone his whole life without understanding. He loved Taurtis once, well- he thought he did. Taurtis ditched in the middle of Evo and ran to the watchers. He loves his siblings, Pearl and Jimmy. And look where that got them? Who knows where Pearl is, and Jimmy’s in a death game. He had loved his parents, until they dropped him in Japan with a psychopath. And then the Watchers had taught him that love was weakness. So no, grian didn’t truly understand the meaning of being in love.

But here he was, sitting on a desert mountain watching a dumb man scam someone else out of their pants.

~~~

“Grian! I got them!” Scar exclaimed, running back up the hill wearing his brand new enchanted diamond pants. God, he looked so happy stumbling through the sand. “Can you believe that worked?”

Grian smiled, shuffling over on the chest so Scar could sit with him if he wanted. “You’re an idiot, Scar.” He muttered fondly, no real malice behind his words.

Scar went on, rambling about how he had gambled BigB out of his clothes, his hands waving around madly as he spoke. Grian wasn’t listening, focused more on Scar’s actions, and his pretty face more than his words.

“-Grian?” Oh god, Scar had noticed.

“Sorry- I- got distracted.”

“It’s fine G.”Scar hummed, wrapping an arm around Grian’s shoulders. Oh, when had Scar sat down? Whatever, he was much too tired to care. “What’s on your mind G? You seem so distracted lately.” Oh, if only he could tell him. But he can’t, not yet at least.. Perhaps when they aren’t in the middle of a death game. “Oh.. it's nothing. I’m just tired.” he yawned.

For now, it will be his little secret.

“Okay then G, you rest. I’ll be right here.

~~~

So no, Grian doesn’t understand being in love. Or maybe he does? He doesn’t show it like most others. No, he shows his love by devoting his first life to a lunatic in the desert, and late at night in the secrecy of their base where he curls up in a single bed next to Scar- for heat reasons, obviously.

No.. Grian doesn’t understand love. But he's willing to learn if it means he gets to wake up and spend his days like this. Cherishing the small moments, sat on a mountain in the desert, leaning his head on Scar’s shoulder as the sun sets.

#grian #hermitcraft #sleepy0s #pearlescentmoon #evo smp #taurtis #samgladiator yhs #3rd life #goodtimeswithscar #scarian #desert duo

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chemicallywrit · 12 days

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Happy Audio Drama Sunday! School is out for me, so I can finally rest. Oh man. I needed the rest. It's great to sit there an not move, isn't it? And I got to listen to so many good podcasts this week as well, it really made the last week of school a treat. Let's take a look:

🍔 I feel like every new episode of @midnightburgr is a precious little gem, and this one is no different. I love getting to see pre-found-family Casper. You can't escape the found family, idiot, get cherished! It's been good to watch his character development throughout the show, and then seeing this little missing piece of it that he doesn't quite remember answers several questions about him. I love him. He's the worst and I love him. Alongside each of the three sisters, this season is promising to be absolutely fascinating.

📼 Oh The Magnus Protocol, you never disappoint. I want to run this episode by the teenagers I know to see what they think of it, because I understood what the influencer was saying, but I know many adults who absolutely would not. Like, I'm on this website. Meanwhile, Alice rejecting help is setting her up for something truly awful and I dread what her fate may be. It's delicious.

👻 @monstrousproductions's Travelling Light is often so soft and good--I neglected to include last week's episode on the AD Sunday write-up, like a FOOL, even though it made me CRY--but this episode settles into a gorgeous little ghost story that's honestly the logical conclusion of creative sentients in space. I loved it. On top of that, there's this tiny morsel of Óli's backstory that I am DYING to know more about. I can't wait for the next ep.

🪲 @cryptonature always hits just right, but this last episode was everything I want in the world. MOSS TIDE MOSS TIDE MOSS TIDE

🧛🏻‍♂️What a treat it is to listen to @re-dracula along with everyone this year. I am loving everyone's analysis and thoughts this go-round and I am once again appreciating the work of Ben Galpin and Karim Kronfli in creating just the most horrific character dynamic. I know droughtula is imminent, so there's still plenty of time to catch up. Join us, join us, join us--

✂️ In Hannah news, Inn Between is starting to wrap up for the season! This week brings the penultimate episode, which is definitely totally fine and won't bode ill for any beloved party members of the Lowlifes. We'll also see the last episode of "Run Rabbit" on The Dead, and I'm so pleased with my actors' work, so I can't wait to hear what the sound wizards have done with it.

Hey! This week is better than last as far as finances go--thanks to my beloveds for helping out--but if you like what I make or enjoyed reading this, would you consider leaving me a tip?

See y'all next week!

#audio drama sunday #audio fiction #fiction podcast #midnight burger #the magnus protocol #travelling light #the cryptonaturalist #re: dracula #inn between #the dead podcast

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damedechance · 6 months

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seek&destroy

read pt1 on ao3 || listen to the playlist

You're telling me I got to talk with @foundress0fnothing for the past few weeks (my favorite person) and write about Gwynriel (my two favorite idiots)? I have seriously enjoyed getting to know my precious giftee a little bit more during this event and I am so so so excited to finally share part of what I've been working on!!! Em, I hope you know how cherished you are in this little fandom community, and I hope this fic can bring you even just the littlest spark of joy! Love you endlessly, Santa 🌟

Pairing: Gwynriel

Parts: 1 of 5

Rating: Explicit (for eventual smut)

Summary: Those with a link to a realm long gone now live in secret, and Gwyneth Berdara is one of them. After a horrific tragedy rends her life apart, Gwyn finds herself in good company with her fellow Valkyries, a group of vigilantes who work to restore the forgotten relics of a land called 'Prythian.' When Gwyn's work brings her to an illustrious museum, her own world collides with that of the mysterious Shadowsinger--an encounter that leads to her vowing to bring him to his untimely end. [[FOR @acotargiftexchange]]

Read below for all of Chapter One:

CHAPTER ONE

Too. Many. Legs.

There were just too many legs, Gwyn thought, as she stared in open-mouthed horror at the projector screen. Just as she swallowed down a gag at the sight of the ghastly images before her, the presenter gestured passionately towards the slides, his tall frame and abhorrent posture giving the illusion of the rounded shell of a beetle. So uncanny was his resemblance to the subject of his own presentation, the species he’d apparently devoted his entire career to–the cerambycid beetle. Gwyn fought back a shiver. Or a scream of terror.

Not that she wasn’t sympathetic to his cause. A glance at the pamphlet in front of her revealed that he held a PhD in entomology–a degree she knew from personal experience was all but impossible if you didn’t feel truly dedicated to your work. He was probably a sweet old man, she struggled to convince herself. Someone like her, a person so entirely enamored with their subject of study that the less attractive facets of the field were of no consequence. In fact, she admired that sort of devotion.

Still, the clearly impassioned man wasn’t exactly persuading her to actually take up an interest in the study of insects. Gwyn suspected that the sight of those beetles was the primary driving force in that decision. Especially since she still couldn’t keep her eyes open for more than five minutes at a time, and was currently squeezing them shut as she counted out her deep, steadying breaths. Just a few moments of relief from the images on the screen was all she needed.

When she opened her eyes again, the presenter had switched to the next slide, which revealed a close-up view of the beetle’s segmented underbelly. Heaving, Gwyn bit down on her tongue as she felt the blood drain from her face. To distract herself from the urge to evacuate the contents of her stomach, Gwyn allowed her eyes to drift aimlessly about the room.

For not the first time, she was grateful that she’d been able to secure a seat for herself in the back of the auditorium. The badge hanging from the bright red lanyard across her neck proclaimed her a professor of entomology at the Dunmere College of Arts and Sciences, but she imagined that if any of the other conference attendees saw how green her face was, that title would prove itself somewhat implausible.

If nothing else, Gwyn needed to be sure that her act was flawless tonight. By the end of the Annual Entomology Society Conference, she wanted to have every single person in this room reasonably convinced that she was an ardent scholar of…bugs. Or, at the very least, she needed to not raise anyone’s suspicions to the contrary.

Perhaps if she simply kept sitting in the back, then.

Sighing quietly, Gwyn shifted down in her seat and allowed her legs to spread out in front of her. If she were to be stuck here, listening to the keynote speaker for the next–she checked the clock hanging above the door–five minutes, she should at least get comfortable. She crossed her arms over her chest, fingers tapping impatiently across her biceps, and stared unseeingly at the screen.

The minutes passed excruciatingly slowly. More legs, more antennae, more larvae, and by the end of the time Gwyn was biting on the insides of her cheeks to prevent herself from screaming in abject horror at each new, impossibly grotesque image. Until finally, the presenter reached the end of his slides, and only a blank screen appeared above his head.

“Right,” the bug doctor said. He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose, and began shuffling his papers over the podium. “Thank you all for such a thrilling discussion of cerambycid communities and their impact as an invasive species.”

Thrilling. Gwyn snorted to herself, and when more than a few heads turned in her direction, she quickly masked it as a sneeze.

“I will be available for a Q&A session later this afternoon,” the presenter continued, his finger prodding one of the papers on the top of his stack, as if pointing to a time. “Until then, I suggest perusing the rest of the museum for the insect nursery, where I am told some cerambycid beetle larvae are on display. Do take note of the well-progressed sclerotisation of the mouth parts, and if you find yourself peckish, I hear the cafe has an excellent gelato stand.”

That the presenter could possibly utter the words sclerotisation and gelato in the same sentence only served to confirm for Gwyn that she needed to get out of that room as soon as possible. Eagerly standing up, she shoved her notebook full of fake notes into her bag, and began to walk down the auditorium steps with the rest of the meager audience. Entomology was not a popular field apparently, and Gwyn could hazard a guess as to why.

As she approached the stage where the bug doctor still stood at the podium, politely accepting words of praise from some of the other attendees, Gwyn thought she hear the words antennal sockets and low tubercles, and immediately quickened her pace, slipping past others to ensure that she was towards the middle of the pack, instead of at the very end.

Sighing in relief as soon as she stepped out of the auditorium and into one of the connecting halls outside of the exhibits, Gwyn followed the flow of the crowd. She slipped her phone out of her pocket, pretending to be texting so that none of the bug enthusiasts would attempt to engage her in some conversation about pupation. Only looking up occasionally from her notes app where she just repeatedly typed the words ew ew ew, Gwyn nearly yelped when she heard a voice in her ear.

“You missed your turn,” Emerie said, her voice slightly crackling through the earpiece hidden behind Gwyn’s hair.

She cleared her notes app, quickly typing the words, I know. And Sorry.

A tinny sigh in her ear. “That’s okay, just don’t attract attention. Pretend to look interested in the exhibit.”

Gwyn locked her phone, slipping it back into her bag as she lifted her head. Immediately regretting the action, once she came face to face with hundred of wiggling, nasty looking larvae.

This time, Gwyn couldn’t hold back her yelp, though she did manage to close her mouth in time to capture the sound, so that it didn’t disrupt the group of people that had gathered to marvel at the nasty little things. Pointing out some fascinating detail of another, as they crowded around the glass window into the bug nursery. In hindsight, Gwyn really should have expected that following the crowd of conference attendees would have led her here.

Carefully controlling her breathing rate so that she wouldn’t alert the others, Gwyn took several steps backwards from the case before turning and walking in the direction of the entrance to the next exhibit. One glance around the room revealed to her that the rest of the entomologists were already deeply engrossed with the contents of the many cases around them, and so Gwyn was able to easily slip out of the room without attracting notice.

The adjoining exhibit, a hall of various bones and skeletons, was relatively less crowded, and Gwyn was just as easily able to weave her way in and out of the gathered bodies. She allowed her head to swivel around, if only to appear as any other mildly interested patron, but stayed resolute in her path towards the exhibit that she’d originally missed.

“Slow down,” Emerie hissed in her ear. “Or at least pretend to be looking for the bathroom.”

Gwyn huffed, shoulders sagging as she forced herself to slow down somewhere in the middle of the ocean exhibit. Above her, the lights illuminated the room in slowly shifting shades of blue, casting the impression of walking along the ocean floor. She ran a hand over her face, and continued walking at a much more deliberate pace.

Admittedly, the museum was rather impressive and on any other day, Gwyn would have been among all of the other patrons, staring wide-eyed at the displays and devotedly reading each and every plaque.

But she wasn’t here to admire the museum. The entomology conference had only been an excuse for Gwyn to come to the Helion Museum of Natural History. If she had simply attended as a regular patron, without a purpose for ambling through the halls other than pure entertainment, she wouldn’t have been granted a keycard that allowed her access to some of the more restricted sections of the museum.

She’d already taken advantage of that privilege the previous day, when she and the other conference attendees took a tour of the research wings, where the archivists and conservationists worked. Their guide had taken them through room upon room of lovingly organized samples stacked in neat rows upon the shelves or spread across tables as researchers gently worked to clean and preserve them. The ultimate purpose of the tour had been to view the yet unveiling showing of moths as the archivists carefully pinned and labeled them, but Gwyn had conveniently slipped out under the guise of a bathroom break before that ever happened. That night, she returned home to Nesta and Emerie with a neatly drawn map of nearly the entire research wing.

Now, as Gwyn ambled through the ocean exhibit, the brilliant displays of coral and skeletons of various sea creatures rose up around her. She walked slowly, arms crossed over her badge so that anyone passing her wouldn’t note that she’d wandered off from the rest of the entomologists. Emerie gently murmured her approval in Gwyn’s ear, just as she crossed the threshold into the next exhibit, a sign above it advertising the Space and Astronomy hall.

The entrance was a long, dark tunnel with white swirling lights on the rounded ceilings and walls. Not resembling stars, but instead pulsing from one end to another like a portal. Gwyn was the only one walking through it, and belatedly she realized that this was a relatively slow day and hour for the museum. She hadn’t seen many other patrons, except for the rest of the bug crew, and as she walked out of the tunnel and into the dimly lit chamber that was the space exhibit, she realized that she was the only one there, save for the security guard currently leaning against a wall and staring at the toe of his boot.

Gwyn adjusted her glasses, slowly winding around case after case of space memorabilia. Some artifacts collected from the surface of the moon, and hundreds of chunks of rock from meteorites that had crashed to earth. She paused at a few signs for good measure, but her gaze was drawn to the ceiling above, which was a careful recreation of the constellations in the night sky.

As she made her way to the end of the hall, Gwyn nearly tripped over a small pedestal that appeared to rise up out of nowhere. She stumbled back, staring dumbfounded at the small, square case that shone more brightly than any of the others in the entire museum thus far.

Just a small, glass box atop a narrow pedestal at the center of the corridor, right before the entrance to the next exhibit. And she was so close, Emerie was murmuring in her ear a list of reminders of what to take note of as soon as she entered the next room–but Gwyn couldn’t resist. That one lone box, that felt like it had been waiting for her.

Slowly, she approached, carefully leaning over the glass case to observe the contents, only to see that it was a single glass tube, stoppered at the end with a metal cap.

Gwyn sucked in a sharp breath, holding it as if letting it out would disturb the little granules safely behind several layers of glass. She admired it, this fine powdery substance within the tube that almost looked like glitter, it was so reflective. She didn’t know what it was, only that it was beautiful, catching the light in this oddly mesmerizing way, and there was so little of it. A pinch, really.

Her eyes flashed to the small sign below the display, and read the label: Presolar Grains.

Lips parted in awe, Gwyn looked back to the small tube, and recognized the particles inside as actual stardust. The dust from stars formed billions of years ago, before the sun even existed. She reached out, her five fingers spread across the glass as she crouched to get on eye level with it.

How something so outstanding could be kept in a place as unassuming as this–just perched on a small pedestal in a vacant section of the museum–was a wonder to her. There should have been hundreds of people crowding around this very case, craning their necks for a chance to see it, this evidence that something had existed before the sun.

“What is it?”

Gwyn jumped as soon as the voice sounded behind her, whirling around with her arm out in front of her with the impulse to shove the person away. With Emerie berating her in her ear, Gwyn managed to suppress her instincts just in time, her eyes widening as they trailed up a man’s chest to his face.

She was met with easily the most gorgeous eyes she’d ever seen. Like molten bronze, these fluent pools of amber and hints of green, and she staggered back, catching herself with a hand atop the case behind her.

“Careful,” the man said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he took half a step forward. Either to catch her, or peel her hand off the case, she couldn’t tell. “The guards might think you’re trying to steal something.”

Gwyn tore her hand off the case as if she’d been burned, hastily stepping aside to put as much distance between herself and the display as she could. She had the strangest feeling, that his eyes had tunneled straight through her, and could somehow see her true intentions as if they’d been written out just as plainly as any other sign in the museum–there was no other reason. He knew why she was there.

But as her heart hammered in her chest at the prospect of her cover being blown, the man only gave her a small smile, really just a fleeting jump at the corner of his mouth, before stepping forward and leaning over the case.

“What are you doing?” Emerie was screeching in her ear. “Leave, geology is in the next room.”

But so perplexed was Gwyn by the man in front of her, that she felt rooted to the spot. Her head cocked slightly to the side as she studied him. How he silently mouthed the words as he read them on the sign, how the slight hook of his nose caught the light emanating from the case, sending an elongated shadow across his face, carving out his cheekbone. Those eyes that were framed by long arching eyelashes and hair that was so dark it seemed to absorb and devour all of the light.

Something about him bothered her.

Suddenly, his head turned, an amused smile already melting over his face as he looked at her. Gwyn jumped, eyes going wide as she pretended like she’d been doing anything other than assessing him. But the man straightened, stepping away from the case to stand slightly in front of her.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his eyes slowly traveling down to the badge around her neck before she could answer.

Gwyn hurried to cover it with a hand, some deeply ingrained instinct of self preservation telling her that she couldn’t trust him despite his friendly smile or Emerie’s pleas for her to just act normal.

He lifted a brow at her, his gaze snapping back to her face.

“Is it a secret?” he said.

“Diana,” she blurted, forcing her hand to lift away from the badge. “Diana Bishop.”

He simply stared at her for a moment, before letting out a short, caustic laugh.

“Okay.”

Gwyn narrowed her eyes, her hands turning into fists as she studied him. Gorgeous face aside, he looked absolutely normal. Black shirt tucked into immaculately pressed and tailored trousers. Stylish, attractive even–but decidedly normal.

Why, then, couldn’t she smother the feeling that he knew all of her deepest and darkest secrets?

“What was that?” she asked, flinching slightly when her voice came out slightly more accusatory than she supposed it should have. She could at least keep up the appearance that she didn’t suspect him of anything.

“Just let it go,” Emerie hissed in her ear. “Apologize and walk away.”

Apologize. For being her best friend, Emerie apparently didn’t know her at all, because instead of walking out, Gwyn took a step forward, invading the man’s space, crossing her arms over her chest so that they bumped against him. And when she looked up to his face, where she expected to see reproach, instead she saw eagerness.

“Nothing,” he practically purred. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Diana.”

Gwyn frowned, her eyes roving over his face for any sort of tell. Reason told her that he couldn’t have been like her. He was tall, and built like a damn soldier with those broad shoulders and muscles pulling the fabric of his shirt taut over his chest, but there was no way he was dangerous. He had to be normal.

And then there was that gut feeling. Like electricity arcing over her skin, sirens blaring in her ears. He had come out of nowhere.

“And what’s your name?” Gwyn said derisively.

“Fine,” Emerie sighed, resigned, into her ear. “If you won’t listen to me, fine, but when Nesta comes back–”

Irritated, Gwyn jerkily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, hooking her finger into the clear cord of her earpiece and tucking the entire thing into her palm in one movement so that he couldn’t see.

“Azriel,” he said, reaching his hand out. She noticed scars running up the lengths of his fingers towards his wrist, and she stared at the nearly mesmerizing patterns for far too long before she realized that she was meant to shake it, and she still had the earpiece in her palm.

“I have to go,” Gwyn said slowly, backing away and angling her body towards the entrance to the next exhibit.

She put Azriel at her back as she paced towards the short corridor leading to the gems and minerals exhibit, her steps quickening as she passed by the security guard she’d spotted earlier.

Azriel wouldn’t follow her, she assured herself as she crossed into the gems and minerals exhibit, where there were countless glittering gems winking at her beneath the lights. He wouldn’t follow her, because she had been so off putting and strange, he wouldn’t deem her worthy of the effort.

Placated for now, Gwyn adjusted her glasses over her nose, and swiveled her head about the room so that the camera hidden in the frames could capture the overall layout of the exhibit. It was a rushed job, not nearly as meticulous as it would have been if she wasn’t so paranoid that Azriel would jump out of nowhere with twenty armed guards ready to escort her to some secret dungeon in an underground government bunker.

Been there, done that.

She considered popping her earpiece back in, but just as she rounded the first display case at the center of the hall, a mother and child came bounding down the aisle, stopping right next to her to admire a row of amethyst.

She backed up, allowing the little boy some space, and was about to continue her walk around the rest of the room, when she ran into something hard, all of the air whooshing out of her lungs.

“Ugh,” Gwyn grunted, as hands wrapped around her upper arms and steadied her.

“Sorry,” the same voice from before said, helping her to turn around. Of course he’d followed her. She’d been off putting and strange, and he was definitely not normal.

Gwyn glared up at him, all pretenses of being some bookish bug enthusiast easily forgotten. He had found her out, she was sure of it, and she now dedicated all of her efforts towards thinking of a way to get rid of him. Collecting footage of the display cases so Emerie could catalog the contents for later was secondary, because clearly he was a threat to the mission.

Belatedly, she wished she hadn’t taken out the earpiece.

“What do you want?” Gwyn said, a hushed whisper so that the family behind her wouldn’t pick up on the thinly veiled hostility.

Azriel furrowed his brows. So he was going to pretend to be confused, then.

“You left in a hurry,” he explained. “I thought you might be in some sort of trouble, so I came to ask if you needed help. I didn’t mean to run into you.”

Gwyn scoffed. “Yeah, sure. Look, I really should be getting back.”

He hummed thoughtfully, his eyes drifting down to her badge again.

“To the… bugs?”

“Screw you,” Gwyn blurted.

She whirled away, stalking down the aisle as the mother gasped and clapped her hands over her son’s ears. Gwyn didn’t even bother with trying to capture more footage. Her cover was blown, and all she needed to do now was lose her tail without attracting anymore attention.

Unfortunately, that also meant it was rather easy for her pursuer to catch up to her.

She supposed she could kill him, if it came down to it.

“Did I insult your profession somehow?” He asked, jogging up beside her. “Was I not supposed to call them bugs?”

He came in front of her, trying to capture her gaze, which forced her to halt right beside a large tower of some type of quartz. She knew, not because she bothered to look at it, but because the reflection of it glimmered in his eyes.

“Get out of the way,” Gwyn said through her teeth as she rolled the earpiece within her palm. She glanced around him, eyes noting the camera wedged up against the ceiling. Murder was out, then.

He only smirked down at her, and just the sight of that gentle arch of his mouth was enough to convince her that he was privy to her homicidal intent, somehow. Any normal person would have walked away by now. He was staring her down like an adversary.

“Sure,” he said easily, stepping out of her way, and then waiting. Like he expected her to walk with him. “Maybe you could show me around? I had a bug phase as a kid, you know.”

Gwyn pushed ahead for the exit, struggling to ignore him as he easily matched her pace. If she could just lead him into an empty stairwell, she would be able to lose him. Knock him unconscious, and then leave him there for some poor museum employee to find. She could do it.

She tried to ignore him, and failed because then he started rambling about egg sacs, and Gwyn couldn’t take it anymore.

“Shut up,” she said. On an impulse, she grabbed his arm and pulled him with her towards a door marked Staff Only in a secluded vestibule off of the gem and mineral exhibit.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Gwyn immediately regretted her decision. Chest heaving, she looked around to see that she’d brought them into a storage room. Small, but not as tight as a closet, even with the towering stacks of clearly labeled bins around them. There were no windows, and the only lights were the strips of LEDs along the floor marking the narrow aisles.

“Diana,” Azriel said slowly, letting out a low breath as he glanced around the room. “This is all very flattering, but are you sure you want to do this here?”

“What?” Gwyn shrieked, her hands balling into fists. She backed up towards the door, where she thought she saw a broom, and considered using it to knock him out.

He was crowding her, slowly walking into her until her shoulders pressed against the door. She had been so sure, before bringing him in here, that he wanted to capture her, and with each vanishing inch between them, her mind was thrown into further disarray.

She had to get rid of him.

“I’ll admit,” he said, “There’s clearly something between us.”

Gwyn shook her head, trying to order her thoughts before she looked back up at him. “What are you talking about?”

“But don’t you think it’s a bit too soon for clandestine meetings in dark rooms?” he said.

His hands came up on either side of her head to cage her in. He leaned down, leveling her stare with one of his own, and she watched as his gaze drifted to her mouth.

“What were you thinking we would do?” he murmured. “When you led me in here?”

“Don’t play with me,” Gwyn said, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She reached out a hand, groping for the door handle.

“No?” he said, face angling to the side. Like he might try to kiss her, and the thought of it was no more terrifying than her realization that she wouldn’t have minded it.

And again, like he could hear every one of his thoughts, his mouth curved into a smile.

“Then what should I do with you?” he asked.

“Look,” Gwyn said, her fingers finally landing on the handle. She pressed herself flush against the door as he stepped closer, so that his chest wouldn’t brush against hers. “Just let me go, and I promise–”

“Let you go?” Azriel murmured, smirking at her.

“Yes,” Gwyn said flatly. She stared resolutely back at him, unwilling to allow him to see even a shred of nervousness. She could do this. She could knock him down right now, if she wanted.

So why wasn’t she?

“Let you go,” he repeated, humming as if he was turning the idea over in his mind. Considering it. His face dipped to the side, his lips somewhere near her ear when he whispered, “Why? Have you done something you shouldn’t have?”

Gwyn’s mouth fell open, her eyes roving restlessly up and down the side of his face as she tried to reconcile the part of her that desperately wanted to see him lying across the floor as she smacked him repeatedly with the broom handle–with the part of her that wanted to see him lying across the floor as she crawled over him and pressed her tongue to his neck.

Her fingers slipped off of the door handle, and were reaching for his shirt collar to do something, when the door suddenly opened behind her, knocking her into his arms. She scrambled for a moment, her hands peeling his off of her waist as he tried to steady her.

Above them, the overhead light flashed on, and she squinted against the harsh light as she turned to face the person who had walked in.

“What are you doing in here?” one of the security guards frowned at them.

Gwyn’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to come up with a reasonable excuse as Azriel scrubbed his hand over his mouth beside her, trying to hide a grin. She had just landed on I got lost, when the security guard groaned, stepping to the side to let them pass.

“They don’t pay me enough to deal with this,” he muttered to himself. He looked up at the ceiling, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’d think adults would behave with some decency.”

Gwyn glared at the security guard, brushing past him and out the door. She expected Azriel to be right behind her, but once she’d gotten over her indignation at having someone assume she’d been doing indecent things with him in public, she turned to look behind her.

Only to see the back of his head.

He was going in the opposite direction.

Stunned, Gwyn tore the lanyard off over her head and chucked it into the nearest trash can. She headed straight for the main staircase at the end of the vestibule, where she knew she could reach the museum atrium and eventually the exit. She needed to get out of there, needed to get lost in a crowd so she could rid herself of the feeling of being watched.

He had let her go.

It didn’t make sense, Gwyn thought as she hurried down the steps. He’d clearly been onto her, had clearly recognized that she was up to something. Any reasonable person wouldn’t have let her go, especially not if she had been his target in the first place. Gwyn wouldn’t have let him go, if the roles were reversed, and if she wasn’t so concerned with getting out of the damn building, she would have been right on his heels.

There was something wrong, Gwyn knew. And she would have to head back to Emerie and Nesta and tell them.

Tell them they needed to call this mission off.

#acotar secret santa #acotar gift exchange 2023 #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel x gwyn #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #modern au #museum heist #enemies to lovers #meet ugly

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scholastic-dragon · 1 year

Note

Bayverse boys react to getting proposed to by their SO? Alternatively, Splinter reacting to one of the boy's SO asking for permission to marry their respective turtle bf?

This is the cutest thing yes

I'm doing headcannons I hope that's okay :)

Bit of a warning, there's mentions of booty spankings and the word "creampie" though its not explicit

Proposing Headcannons

When you ask Splinter to chat while you wait for the boys to come back from patrol, he doesn't hesitate to make you both some tea and sit down with you in his room

He notes the nervousness of your face, the tension in your brow, the way your leg keeps bouncing

"What's wrong, child?" He comforts, handing you the tea with a warm smile

"Well...I'm not sure how I should start this......it's about Leo/Raph/Mikey/Donnie..."

Instantly gets worried, what did his son(s) do? Or perhaps something they didn't do?

No emotions flash across his face, so you continue.

"I know I've only been dating them for a little bit, but I've been thinking a lot about it and I think I wanna take this leap with them..." You start to ramble, peering down into the mug

Splinter feels awkward, misunderstanding your words.

Oh dear god, he thinks, please tell me this isn't about....intimate times with his son(s)

You sigh. "But I think we're ready for this," You turn and make eye contact with the old rat. "I want to propose,"

Splinter releases the biggest sigh of relief you've ever heard from him

He pats your hand, smiling in turn. "I think that's wonderful,"

"And well, the reason I wanted to talk to you about it is because I wanted to ask for your blessing. You mean everything to them and I know it would mean the world if you approved of it,"

He laughs, genuine, eyes sparkling. "Child, of course, I approve!"

Leo

Is flabbergasted

Truly

It's date night. You spent over an hour decorating your rooftop garden. The sun was setting. Romantic music playing.

You start by saying how much you love and cherish him, reminding him of all that you had been through.

He thinks you're standing up to give him a kiss

And now you're on your knee?????

WiTh A rInG!??!?!?!?!?

Straight up goes silent for a solid 30 seconds....just staring at you

"Leo?" You begin to worry.

"....yes...." He mumbles, still not moving.

"Yes?" You parrot

"Yes!" He laughs, a wide grin breaking out across his face

He stands and lifts you into a big hug

He's a tiny bit upset that he wasn't the one to pop the question, but in the end it doesn't matter because you're his until the end of time <3

Raph

Didn't pick up any of your hints

Literally none

The only clue he got was when he was about to shower after your date

You stormed in, shocked that he didn't get what you were about to do

"Raphael."

Oh no. Your mad voice

He turns around, water running and butt ass naked

"Yeah?" He takes in your state. "Somethin' wrong? I thought you said-"

"Do you seriously have no idea what I'm trying to do?!"

He raises a brow. "Sex?"

"I'm trying to propose, you idiot!"

His heart stops, eyes wide. You were sure he stopped breathing altogether.

"Propos- you wanted to- WHAT?!" He stutters, stepping out of the bathroom and into his room, coming to stand in front of you

"Did you really not get the hints?" You try not to laugh at how flustered he looks.

"I thought....it was just a thing that girls always talked about....that stuff,"

You shake your head, pulling a red ring box out of your pocket. It was a simple silver band that should (hopefully) fit his finger

"Will you marry me?"

A wide and very genuine grin breaks out across his face. "Yeah, yeah I will,"

He pulls you into a tight hug, trying to not cry and become overrun with emotion

"Sorry I'm such a dumbass," He mumes against your hair

You laugh, clapping his ass cheeks. "Yeah, but you're my dumbass now,"

Donnie

Donnie had just settled down into bed after a long 13 hour day

He had been working nonstop and finally tucked himself into your side

"Hi honey," You open your arms and he rests his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat

He mumbles a sleepy greeting, his eyes not opening

"Did you finish what you were working on?"

He nods, lifting his head up just enough to talk about it.

You had no idea what he was saying, only focusing on how his skin glowed in the yellow lamp lighting. How soft his brow was now that he wasn't stressed. The plump softness of his lips. How he trusted you to see him without his glasses and mask.

It just kinda came tumbling out

"Marry me,"

He stops mid sentence, eyes snapping open and peering up at you.

"What?"

You scoot down on the bed, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his nose.

"Marry me,"

A slow smile stretched across his face. "You bein' serious?"

You nod, looking into his hazel eyes.

"Okay," He nods, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "Okay, I will marry you,"

You exchange a few sleepy kisses before Donnie passes out for the night

Mikey

You had somehow

To some act of god, got Mikey to NOT cook you dinner on date night

You made him sit in the living room while you made your mom's lasagna and garlic bread

He was antsy and kept poking his head in, only to be shooed out.

Finally it was ready and you both sat down at the kitchen table to eat, he moaned and groaned about how good the food was and how he couldn't eat another bite

Hook, line, and sinker

"Not even for desert?" You take both your plates to the sink and open the fridge. "I have chocolate pie~" you sing song, watching his resolve break

"Well babycakes, I prefer a creampie,"

"Michelangelo!" You scolded, putting two pieces of pie in your places

You couldn't even pretend to eat, just waiting for him to see it.

He was taking a large sip of water, he hadn't yet looked

"What do you think?" You were bouncing in your chair

Finally, he peered down, seeing a shiny silver ring staring right back at him

His glass of water fell from his hand, spilling on his side and the floor.

He didn't react, didn't move, didn't breathe.

"Mikey?" Now you were worried

"Are you proposing?" There was no emotion, no tone, no nothing, he was blank. And that was almost scarier then the thought of him saying no

"Um....yes, I know we haven't been together long, but-"

"Yes!" He shouts, standing from the table and lifting you our of your chair and into a tight embrace. "Yes, yes, yes! I will marry you!"

You both start laughing, hugging and dancing in the kitchen. Until Mikey stops and sets you down.

"Does this mean I get a chocolate pie and a creampie tonight?"

tags: @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @red-phoenixxx @happymoonangel @m1dnyt3-w0lf @dilucsflame33 @sketch-and-write-lover @leosgirl82 @mysticboombox @strawberrycakeblog @tmnt-tychou @sewerninno @sharpwindow

#i had so much fun with this #tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt headcannon #tmnt headcannons #tmnt raph #tmnt mikey #tmnt leo #tmnt donnie #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt splinter #it is my works #thanks for the ask!

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thatdebaterguy · 12 days

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Your abortion opinion is dogshit. “Just have safe sex. No child is unwanted” tell me you’re middle class and sheltered and you’ve never done any research without telling me. Childbirth, if you’ve never had any experience with it, is an extremely long, painful, traumatic, and dangerous experience. If a pregnant individual at any point decides they do not want to experience this, they should be allowed to terminate the pregnancy. Are you really going to make a full grown thinking feeling ADULT unwillingly go through +12 hours of agony and potentially a fucking massive surgery while conscious (if you don’t know what a c section is) to prevent the termination of a fucking fetus that doesn’t even know it’s alive and has no capacity to suffer?

“No child is unwanted” you fucking idiot. Is your idea of the worldwide foster system limited to Annie the Musical? Not everyone has a loving family who can accept the child. Foster systems are rife with abuse. Almost nobody who ages out of the foster system has had a good childhood. And that’s only talking about places like North America and Europe. What about places with no nationwide foster system? Do you know about post partum depression?? Do you know about the research done about the mothers that just straight up do not love their babies or their children and regret not aborting them?

Look at me anon. I don’t care if it’s physically impossible for you, thought experiment here, would YOU undergo 9 months of pregnancy symptoms (weak bladder, swollen ankles, morning sickness, baby kicking, etc) and then go through hours of agony followed by a multi-hour cesarean section surgery for which you are conscious. Just to have a baby. Starting right now. I don’t care if you don’t want it I don’t care if you don’t have the money. Right now. “No child is unwanted,” right? Also the baby you have has a 100% chance of being sexually assaulted within the foster care system and becoming a drug addict who dies of an overdose at a young age. Still doing it?

What exactly are you trying to prove? My mother was well into her 40s when I was conceived, I was premature by about 2 weeks, and I was a c-section. She happily reminds me of the pain she went through just to make me exist, but isn't that the miracle of life, of birth, of families? Millions and millions of women go through such hardship and turmoil, 9 months of their lives, to bring life into this world, and will quite frequently then do it AGAIN, and will cherish their children graciously with no regrets. Not everyone has a good family, a good relationship with their mother, not everyone even knows their mother, but they get to experience life, to experience the world, no matter how shitty it gets, they always have a chance at pulling through, reaching happiness, having their own family. Of course it's not as simple as 'just have safe sex' but you see so many abortions are due to those not ready for motherhood yet failing to have protective sex. Personally, I believe if you're willing to have sex, you should be mindful of the consequences, and being horny and immature isn't a plausible excuse for terminating a life. Since my first formulation of an opinion on abortion, I've given it time to think, and have come to somewhat of an idea. Life truly begins once the heartbeat begins within a human child, and conscious existence begins around 25 weeks. The cut-off for abortion should be 25 weeks at latest, as that's when consciousness begins. However, at the development of the heart would also be ideal or acceptable in my eyes.

But of course every family isn't perfect, of course many people don't have a family, I grew up with an absent father who was more invested in booze than my life, I know many people who grew up in foster homes, and sure yes of course it's better to have a supportive family, but growing up adopted or in a foster home doesn't make your chances of a happy life impossible. And every child is wanted. By someone, somewhere. In America alone, there are 2 million couples on the adoption waiting list. Those are 2 million couples who'd greet any child with open loving arms, who'd try their best for that child. Being unwanted by your biological parents is a painful fact that could haunt you for life, but it doesn't negate from the value of life and the countless amazing experiences it has to offer. It just poses a greater challenge for you to overcome, and the greater the risk, the greater the reward. Knowing you've overcome being unwanted by your own family by building your own loving family is genuinely one of the greatest achievements in life, and if you've taken lessons from your parents to better your own parenting skills, to learn from their mistakes, to give someone a father when you didn't have one, then shoutout to you. Shoutout to mothers, to my mother, to single fathers, to loving parents, to orphans, and to those enduring through the hardships of life. We're all proud of you.

#politics #abortion

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dustteller · 7 months

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Ouyang is an incredibly tragic character but lowkey I find Esen even more tragic.

Because Esen loves Ouyang. I don't think he quite realizes the implications of that, but he spends the whole book being absolutely whipped for his general. This man means more to him that anybody else, and Esen wants so badly to protect him and cherish him and see him happy. His ideal life is out on campaign, out in battle, not only because he loves fighting, but because that is the space that belongs to him and Ouyang alone. He sees his military duties through the lens of getting to spend time with someone who, in his eyes, is the absolute bestest, coolest, most loveable person in the world. Esen adores Ouyang, end explicitly states he would literally do anything for him, and Ouyang, who hates himself and twists everything to be about how awful he is, *believes him.* No ifs or buts. That's how true his statement is.

And Ouyang loathes himself and lifes his life with the sole purpose of causing himself pain, so he believes that the reason Esen doesn't realize how he feels is because he doesn't care to. He genuinely thinks that Esen sees him fully as a thing, and that his "You're as beautiful as a woman." comment is made out of ignorance because Esen does not care to realize how much that comment hurts Ouyang. Every single little slight, he sees as proof that Esen doesn't bother to truly know and understand him.

And to a certain point, he's right. Esen is willfully ignorant about Ouyangs feelings. He is being an absolute idiot and careless about his words. But the reason he is like that is not because he does not care, but because he cares too much. In his P.O.V., we see that he remembers the day that Ouyangs family was murdered, but that he draws a line between that child and his fearless general because he doesn't like to think about Ouyang like that.

Esen cares so much, and so he refuses to think of Ouyang as vulnerable and sad and in pain because he can't stand it. He's selfish and stupid in his refusal to consider it, but the reason for it is that he literally cannot bear to see Ouyang hurt. And as for Ouyang, he never lets it be known that it bothers him. From Esen's perspective, he's treating Ouyang as he would anyone else in a mutual pact of ignoring the past. The past does not matter to him, only their present relationship. It's easier that way, for the both of them.

Except, of course, Ouyang does not actually forget. He simmers and rots in his feelings, and he learns to see all of Esen's actions as a slight agaisnt himself, a betrayal from the only person he loves.

Esen wants to give Ouyang the world, and I fully believe that if at some point Ouyang had let it slip how much his past still hurt him, he would have thrown himself into doing as much as he could to help Ouyang. He ignores Ouyang's feelings because he thinks that's what Ouyang wants. His world is simple and uncomplicated because he genuinely does not think anyone he loves wants it any other way. He just wants the people he loves to get along and be happy and to make his father proud and see his brother be honored and for Ouyang to live the best life possible.

I think Esen is a very tragic character, not because he's stupid, but because not a single person ever gave him the chance to not be. Esen is tragic because there is nothing more he wants than for his people to be happy, and he could have given it to them so easily, but because of reasons outside of his control everyone kept their silence and so he was doomed to lose and hurt all that he wished to keep safe.

#she who became the sun #general ouyang #esen temur #this book. this book has done things to me.#my thoughts

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basil-does-arttt · 26 days

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been thinking about Trish a lot lately, and her connection to Eva

(Big ranty thing with some analysis into her character + my own headcanons about trish below)

She was created to be a carbon copy of Eva, right down to the most unimportant details. So much so that Dante recognized her immediately he didnt even do a double-take, as soon as those glasses were off he saw Eva standing infront of him instead of Trish. (I mean, blonde haired+blue eyed women arent uncommon and its not like Dante has never been into a public space before. Hes probably seen similar women to Eva many times throughout his life, but only Trish was so perfectly like Eva that he couldnt see anything else but his mother in her that first moment they met.)

But thats just physical features. It'd be too easy, too simple for Mundus to just create a look-alike to Eva. And i dont think that alone would've been enough to trick Dante either, Dante isnt an idiot no matter how dumb he acts sometimes. So, how deep into this "recreate Eva" thing did Mundus actually go?

Does Trish experience the same motherly instincts Eva had toward Dante (and Vergil)? Does she feel the need to protect them and cherish them like Eva did? Does she get urges to hold them, kiss and hug them and give them praise as Eva once did in their childhood? If so, does she ignore these feelings, pushing them down untill they're buried so deep within her mind that she's forgotten them entirely, or does she let them be and let them pass on their own, wether she acts on them or not. She's quite sassy with Dante in dmc4 and seems quite aloof in dmc5, so maybe thats how she copes with it instead - acting the total opposite to what Eva ever would.

Going even deeper into that, does Trish have any of Eva's memories? Even just vague snippets or imaginings of Eva's life, considering how well Mundus made Trish then that might not be an impossibility. If so, how much would she have the ability to recall? Could she even recall the fire, maybe? If she can, how would she feel about it. Would she grieve? Feel anger, regret, or nothing at all?

And how would she feel about all of this overall? Being a clone of Eva right down to the gritty details even Dante wouldn't know. Trish is so strongly contrasted to Eva in personality, style and tastes that i'd like to imagine she isnt that much of a fan, put simply. She's her own person, she wants to be her own person and she hates the person she represents. She hates how her existence causes pain to somebody she's wired to care so deeply for - sometimes against her will - and she hates seeing him cry or drink himself to death over that dusty old picture thats been sitting on his desk for decades, knowing that she'll only ever make it worse for him in the end, that his grief extends so far into the core of his being that nothing in existence will ever truly fix it.

She's conflicted.

She's Trish. But is she really? Or is that just who she says she is in an effort to push back and ignore the reality of her existence? Nothing more than a fake, a husk of a person who's time was cut short prematurely then taken advantage of by the very being that killed her in the first place.

She's Trish. Not Eva. She can't be Eva, and she never will be Eva. Nothing will change that. Not a dusty old picture, not an old man's delusions, not some dead demon king who breathed life into her form in the first place.

She's Trish. But who even is Trish? Her entire being has always been about Eva. She doesnt know anything else. So she overcompensates with acting sarcastic and sassy, looking hot and sexy and playing with guns and swords because those are things Eva wouldn't ever do herself. Eva. Again, it all comes back to Eva.

She's Trish. Devil hunter and the most 2000s representation of "hot blonde" one could get. Thats who she is. Or at least, that's who she's trying so desperately to be.

Trish needs more love from the developers, her character is so interesting. I have other analysis' of the other characters too if anybody would be interested in that but for now, ill leave you with my take on the iconic blonde from this wonderful series.<3

#devil may cry #dmc #dmc trish #trish devil may cry #character study #character analysis #headcanons #im planning to write a fic on this topic btw #something like trish having an identity crisis #and trying to find that identity through various means #might include some lady x trish in there as a guilty pleasure #ill reblog and link it when/if i do write it

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v3nusxsky · 1 year

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Can I request a Larissa weems x genderfluid reader.

R is also a shape shifter and ends up screwing Larissa on one of their masc days however neither of them realise that r can get Larissa pregnant. So a couple months later when Larissa starts getting morning sickness it leads to an oh shit moment between the two and they both start freaking out about knowing nothing about kids. Marilyn finds them freaking out and reminds them that their both idiots cause they've dedicated their lives to teaching/guiding outcast children and have been acting parents to them for years.

Hey my dear anon! I tried my best with this please let me know if something doesn’t fit the gn r role. It’s my first time writing for that and I don’t have much experience but I’m hoping my research has helped some.

Could we be mothers

*Authors note~ this is my first attempt at a fic like this so please let me know if there's anyways I could improve for the future also would like to dedicate this to my favourite couple who helped me to accept myself. for who I am and wish their newborn daughter E.R.H on the 5•03•23! A very happy welcome to the world little one <3 she’s absolutely gorgeous and a sign that anyone can be a parent as long as they have love and care in their hearts*

Trigger warnings~ pregnancy wlw pregnancy ?mentions of smutt

Prompt~ see the ask^^

۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵ ۵

Gender always seemed like a funny concept to you. One you had battled with for so many years. Yet not only did you have to battle with accepting yourself, you had to battle with the acceptance of others. Ultimately that was the worst part. Knowing not everyone would accept you for yourself was ultimately heartbreaking. You spent years being misgendered and called some of the most hateful names by some of the people who were meant to love and care for you the most.

That's why when you met the goddess of a women that was Larissa Weems, you felt as if the lords above had blessed you with your very own angel. Someone to love, hold and cherish you for who you truly were. Larissa will always be a dream come true for you. She loved you like no other ever had. You were learning what you should've learned years ago, what love actually felt like. Your ability and your gender were just two of the reasons you had been through hell and back. The fact that Larissa was also a shape shifter took that fear away. Then she was the most accepting over your gender, even helping you pick out some more masculine looking clothes for the days you didn't feel comfortable in your body.

Your relationship with Larissa is quite simply amazing, in every single aspect, the fact you could shift parts of your body made certain aspects of the relationship so much more interesting. It allows you to feel everything just as a typical cis man would. That made it even more special knowing you were both able to enjoy the act. Plus you didn't have to worry about pregnancy. That's a win win right? Well that's what you thought.

Larissa had called you into the bathroom sounding absolutely terrified, instantly you were up and racing to join her. She had curled herself up into a ball against the wall, head resting on her knees as she sobbed quietly. Something was wrong. "Ris?" You murmured taking in the scene in front of you. All she did was hand you a little white test. A test? You glanced down at the test, it had two blue lines. Immediately your brain recognised what was happening. But it can't? Surly? How could this happen? I mean you knew how but how exactly.

You made your way to gather Larissa in your arms, externally seeming calm and collected but internally you were freaking out. Could you be a parent? A mom? Or dad? What would you even prefer to be? Larissa would be a stunning mother, you knew that. You saw how she doted on the students, loving and supporting them every day. But you? How could you be a good parent when you had no experience in the matter. Your own childhood wasn't a great one, could you be any different?

What did a baby even need? Would you hold it correctly? What if it was a boy? How would you explain things typically a father would? Neither of you had any experience with babies. Both having your own set of challenges, yet this child would be yours and Larissa's. They would be absolutely stunning you knew that. There was no doubt they would be the most perfect baby to ever exist and oh so loved. But sometimes loving someone means letting them go. If you didn't feel like you could be a good parent then why would you subject an innocent child to an inadequate parent?

Little did you know Larissa was having similar thoughts and the thoughts of guilt. Would you stay with her? Would you be mad? Would you blame her? Or worse would you think she had cheated? Obviously you would never assume that, you knew how much she loves you. You lost count of how long you sat together, holding each other and reassuring the other that you weren't mad or leaving.

Marilyn had been searching for Larissa, school related issue, yet she seemed to come up empty handed so made her way to your private quarters. Neither of you had heard her entrance to the room and she didn't call out, absolutely stuck in your own world. It was a gasp that drew your attention, Marilyn stood with a big smile, spotting the little white test. You glanced between her and Larissa and shook your head in a silent cue. Marilyn understood instantly that you were both doubting yourself and abilities. She instantly began showering you with praises and kind words. Truly she knew you both would be amazing parents to this little one.

"Y/n, Larissa, this baby will be so loved you don't have to worry, I see you both with the students here. You love, support and cherish them. Many of the students view you as chosen family. And I know that because they have told me. In fact a few have even slipped calling you mum or dad when referring to you. And having a little one of your own, both of you, will be the most precious gift. So how about we stand up wipe our tears so I can congratulate two of the most amazing friends I have." Her tone leaving no room for argument and you couldn't help but laugh pulling Larissa to her feet gently. You both really were being silly, of course you would be amazing parents and this baby would be so very loved. You would stand by Larissa every day and raise your baby together in a home, well school, filled with love.

Word count ~ 1129

#fanfic #larissa weems #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie #larissa x reader #principal larissa weems #principleweemsxreader #principal weems #larissa x you #Larissa x gn reader #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems x reader #thanks anon!#anon response #anon request #send anons #anons welcome

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