#fighting the urge to say something vile
Text
Deeper • Ruffilo
Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x FemReader
Words: 3.5k
Warnings: Smut (18+, unprotected PnV pls wrap it before u tap it, slight breeding, inside orgasm), alcohol, swearing, jealousy, teasing. Legit just smut but with some plot lol
Prompt: you know what they say, bassist string it deeper.
Authors note: I’m so fucking tired but I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am a literal puddle. Also this ended up being way longer than intended, oops :3
THIS IS A FANFIC USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT THIS PERSON WOULD DO THIS IRL OR ACT LIKE THIS! ITS FICTION!
Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @th4t-em0-k1d @lans-angels @dsireland86
Well, you know what they say, bassists do it deeper.
Ruffilo was never a fan of social situations, or people he didn’t know. If he could stay at home and away from the public’s eye, he would. He’d be happy just living with his best friends and some cats, as he was extremely shy; but he was also very needy.
Nick was always fighting for your attention; especially when you laughed a little too hard at one of Folio’s jokes, or a sarcastic comment of Jolly’s. He’d wrap your fingers through his, pulling at your arm so you would sit next to him, tugging you gently away from whoever else you were talking to. Sometimes he got jealous of all the attention you’d receive, especially when out in public; but if anything he despised when you talked to Noah. You were definitely waaay too flirty with him- in Nick’s opinion- but he’d never tell you he thought this because you and him were just friends. Noah played into the teasing you gave him; even though he knew Nick had a thing for you.
It was Halloween, Noah’s birthday; all the boys plus a bunch of friends were celebrating in their Los Angeles home. Nick’s leg bounced anxiously as he sat at the kitchen table with a drink in hand, waiting for you to show up. He exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes staying fixed on the front door as he took a sip, nearly spitting out the vile red mixture. Vodka cran my ass tastes more like some sort of disgusting pink Whitney mix. He thought.
Nick’s mind began to race, thinking about you. You were an hour late, something that rarely occurred because you were always extremely punctual. He wondered where you were; his comfort person. His anxiety was rampant at the amount of people in their house. All he wanted was to see you, so you could tell him everything would be okay; but also because he was head over heels in fucking love with you.
Folio and Jolly were off playing a game of definitely rigged cup-pong, while Noah jumped through various conversations with each guest, thanking everyone for showing up to celebrate his birthday.
Nick took another sip, hand shaking in anticipation as he watched various couples dance through the kitchen, the music loud, echoing through the walls. He readjusted his Jedi- robes multiple times, tugging on the fabric nervously.
Finally, the front door opened, and Nick had to stop himself from standing up immediately at the sight of you, ready for you to hold him in your arms. You waltzed into the house, the thick-heeled boots you wore thumping against the ground, following the beat of his heart.
You smiled when your eyes met his, your dark burgundy lipstick parting, radiating against your skin; his heart pounded heavily. His eyes fought the urge to skim across your body, particularly across your exposed thighs, as the short black skirt you wore rode up dangerously high. He was practically melting in his chair, pants beginning to tighten at the thought of bending you over the counter, taking you from behind.
“What’s up Anakin,” you said, your own eyes glancing across his robes, grinning at his nerdy costume. Nick was always such a dork for Star Wars, but he was your dork.
Nick smiled, relief evident on his face that you were here; but the lingering lust he felt towards you crawled through his skin. His throat began to tighten, and words fumbled. He grabbed his cup, swallowing the remaining vodka-Whitney-cran or whatever the fuck it was, eyeing your every move as you made yourself at home, navigating through the kitchen with ease.
You placed your grocery bag of snacks and drinks you brought in the fridge, closing the door with your heel before cracking open a cooler, and taking a sip as you turned towards Nick. He loved how comfortable you were here, in his house, as if it was your own. Where you were meant to be.
“Hey,” Nick nodded, the corners of his mouth turned up. “Freddy Kruger.”
He maintained eye contact, your E/C eyes lingering in his, the glint in them playful, as if you knew what you were doing to him. The cut-up red and black striped sweater hung cropped across your body, leaving one shoulder exposed, a variety of fake slashes drawn into your skin. The faux-clawed glove was placed on your non-dominant hand, and a brimmed felt hat was placed on top of your head.
“Do you like it?” You asked, giving a slight twirl, and as you turned Nick swore he could see the bottom outline of your cheeks. His face flushed as he shifted in his seat, eyes turning to the floor, becoming very interested in the wood.
“You look fantastic,” Nick said.
You smiled as your face warmed at Nick’s words, even if prompted. Taking another sip of your cooler you hoisted yourself on the counter, sitting on top of the faux marble, the top cold against your thighs.
Nick’s silver eyes glanced up at you through his lashes, before he stood up, grabbing himself another drink.
“You drunk yet?” You asked him, and Nick shook his head in response.
“I was waiting for you, plus, I didn’t want to participate in folio’s rigged version of cup pong. Who plays it where if you miss the ball you drink?” Nick pressed his lips together, before going back to the punch bowl to fill his cup.
“The hell is that?” You nodded towards the bowl, curious about what sort of Halloween-themed drink was made.
“Some garbage Jolly mixed up.” Nick looked into the cup, shrugging before taking another sip. His eyebrows furrowed in disgust, squeezing his eyes shut.
A laugh escaped your lips, “Let me try.”
Nick walked towards you, your legs parting slightly as he stood between you, careful not to get too close, reaching the cup out for you to grab.
Instead of grabbing the cup you leaned forward, placing your lips against the plastic, prompting Nick to feed you the liquid. He tilted the cup, eyes watching your lips intensely as you followed his stare. You took a big sip, coughing after you pulled away. The alcohol flowed down your throat, burning at its strength.
“Jesus, that’s fucking gross,” you covered your mouth briefly before taking a chaser of your drink. You chugged the rest, letting your legs swing as they dangled off the counter, Nick still standing close to you, the heat radiating off of him.
You leaned to the side, tossing the can into the recycling as Noah turned the corner, his eyes brightening into a drunken smile as he swayed towards you, open arms.
“Y/N!” He yelled, the bass of the music pumping in the background.
“Noah!” You immediately jumped off of the counter, being engulfed in his embrace. Noah’s hands trailed down your back, dangerously close to the bottom of your skirt. “Happy birthday you nerd!”
Nick watched as you two hugged, his chest tightening as Noah’s hand rubbed up and down your body.
The two of you swayed, Noah, leaning all of his weight into you in a drunken state. You smiled into Noah’s hug, squeezing him. As you pulled away, you readjusted his Leaf Village headband, a sly smile playing on your lips.
“You’re such a dweeb,” you pushed Noah’s shoulder, and he smiled staring down at you, “and you’re so drunk already.”
“Nahh ” Noah wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you against him, “you’re just not drunk enough. Time for some shots!”
You laughed, agreeing as Noah reached into a cupboard for a bottle of tequila- something he knew was your favourite. Noah filled two shot glasses, before you wrapped your elbows around each other, taking two shots of alcohol together in a ritualistic fashion.
Nick averted his eyes as his breath hitched, refusing to watch as Noah held you to his side after the two glasses rested back on the counter.
Your head rested on Noah’s shoulder as you hiccuped from the alcohol, eyes looking up at him. Noah began to sway back and forth to the music, pulling you along with him, before swinging you around. You laughed with Noah, smiles beaming against each other. You followed Noah’s body but watched Nick the entire time.
Nick didn’t look at you, eyes fixated on his cup that he took another drink from, swallowing every drop of liquid. You sighed, shrugging Noah off of you before walking up to Nick, and wrapping your arms around him. He stiffened at your touch but put his arms around you.
“Aw Nicky, are you jealous?” You teased, reaching up to run your fingers through his long dark hair. Your chest rested against his own, and you could feel his heart vibrate against yours. You tried pulling his body to dance with the music, but he remained put, placing his arms across your back, hand holding you against his chest.
“Thanks for the drink No-wah,” you smiled cheekily at him.
Noah grabbed a beer from the counter, “anything for my baby girl.”
Nick was jealous. He was jealous at how easy you and Noah got along, and how you were ready to be in Noah’s arms at any second, but he didn’t know that you knew this got under his skin.
You knew flirting with Noah made Nick jealous, and you loved how possessive Nick always got once you went crawling back to him. You wanted Nick to be jealous, and you wanted him to want you.
Both of you desired each other, but neither was brave enough to make a move.
“C'mon,” you grabbed another cooler from the fridge for you and Nick, bending over slightly in his direction so your ass was barely exposed to him.
Standing up you sauntered towards him, hanging him the can before grabbing his hand. Feeling the warm feeling of the alcohol start to pulse through your veins, you tugged him along the house, walking past the crowd of people before you walked into the living room.
You wrapped your fingers in Nick’s inked ones, holding him close to you.
The living room was packed with people, the only spot available being on the couch; for one person.
You motioned for Nick to sit before inviting yourself to sit on his lap. Nick’s breath caught in his throat in surprise.
You wiggled to get comfortable, and Nick placed his arms across your torso, holding you still against him.
You knew he wouldn’t be able to contain his excitement if you kept moving.
Folio and Jolly’s cup pong game was going on in front of you, and as you brought the can of alcohol to your lips you couldn't help but let a sly smile play at your lips as you thought about teasing the man beneath you.
You pushed into his lap, wriggling your hips along to the music.
“Sorry Nicky, trying to get comfortable,” you said playfully, chugging the can of alcohol before placing it on the coffee table.
Nick’s fingers dug into your hips, attempting to hold you still against him; but he hardened beneath you, a quiet groan heaving from his throat as you shifted along his lap.
“Y/N,” Nick warned, letting a hand go as he grabbed his can, drinking the entire thing to give him the liquid courage.
Both of you felt the buzz of inebriation, allowing the warmth to consume you. Pretending to be invested in the game ahead you leaned back, placing your back against Nick’s chest, letting his hands roam the top of your thighs.
“What are you doing,” Nick asked through gritted teeth, but his heart raced in anticipation at your actions.
You dug your hips into him, feeling the music. No one would be paying attention to the two of you, everyone, including yourselves, would be too drunk to notice.
Sitting up you spun your body so you were straddling his waist, legs parted on either side of him. Your skirt was so short it rode up, exposing the underwear you wore beneath; but only for him to see.
Nick swallowed harshly, eyes glazing over in infatuation as he watched you, your lip finding its way between your teeth. Placing your arms around his neck you eyed every expression, glazing over every detail of his face as Nick flushed. As your body swung back and forth gently, you gained the courage to lean forward, placing a gentle kiss on Nick’s lips.
Nick stared at you, almost in shock. He wasn’t sure if this was a prank, or if he was already so far gone that he was lucid dreaming.
Nick's hands glided along your thighs as they gripped you from behind, squeezing gently. You had kissed him, and his entire body was on fire.
“Kiss me,” you said in a hoard whisper, almost desperate, waiting for Nick to respond to your first move.
Nick was hesitant and nervous as he pulled himself closer to your lips, brushing over them gently, before closing the gap between you.
You sighed into his mouth, relieved as Nick reciprocated feelings, allowing yourself to relax into his touch, body heating as his hands roamed behind you, squeezing gently at the skin.
You deepened the kiss, pushing your lips firmly into his, closed-mouth kisses opening with each wave, allowing your hands to roam into his hair, tugging softly on the strands.
Nicks's body convulsed below you, and he pulled away, staring up at you with awe.
“Want to go upstairs?” You asked, and he nodded eagerly as you crawled off of him. Nick grabbed your hand hastily as he pulled you behind him, the journey up the stairs feeling like it dragged on forever.
The music pumped below you as Nick closed his bedroom door, the sound dampening ever so slightly, the floor shaking with the bass.
Nick immediately shoved you into the wall, lips all over yours in desperation, devouring you, years of pent-up need coming out full throttle.
His hand roamed up your body underneath your torn long sleeve, granting himself access to all the curves he’d dreamed of touching. The number of times he touched himself, fantasizing about your taste, left his knees weak as he let his mouth explore yours, finally.
You moaned against Nick's lips as he fondled your chest, his hands searching very crevasse of your being through years of missed opportunity. You moulded into his touch, feeling excited as your abdomen vibrated in complete want for the man holding you against the wall.
Nick's fingers lingered underneath your skirt before pulling it up gently, grazing between your panties before roaming back up.
You moaned against the subtle tease, eyebrows furrowing as you pulled away from his kiss.
“Nick, please, don’t tease me,” you whined, pressing your forehead against his own.
Silver eyes bore into you as his lips tugged up into a sly smile, “if you don’t like my teasing, why are you moaning?”
Nick’s fingers roamed between your legs again, gently pressing where you needed him most and a feral sound escaped your lips, leaving you embarrassed. Nick stared at you with lust, almost in shock by how you were reacting to him. Nick allowed his fingers to glide between your body and underwear, feeling between your folds. His already hard body pulsing even deeper as he felt how soaked you were; all for him.
“Please,” you said as he touched you.
“Please don’t stop Nicky,” you whispered as his hand dipped between your layers. Nick planned to make her soar, but first, he loved hearing you beg for him, and only him.
“What do you want,” Nick's lips brushed across yours, this unknown confidence sending his hormones to the moon. The woman of his dreams was wriggling beneath him, desperate for anything he had to offer.
“I need you,” you said, pulling his face into yours again, allowing your tongue to explore his mouth, tasting all of him. “I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t even walk.”
Nick almost melted at your words, his heart beating so fast in disbelief. You want him to pleasure you.
He nodded eagerly, pulling you towards his bed, and tossing the Star Wars bed sheets aside. Nick pushed you into the bed, on top of you with all of his weight, allowing himself to dominate over your body.
Kissing down your neck your hands roamed across his back, and finally, he stared you down.
“Are you sure you want to do this Y/N? Because there is no way we are just fucking friends after this. You’re mine.”
You shuddered at Nick's possession, nodding, “I’ve always wanted to do a little more than kiss.”
Nick blushed, kissing you again before letting his lips trail down your neck, sucking on the delicate skin that lay between your neck and collarbone.
“You’re mine.” He said, marking what was his property before turning your body so you were above him.
“Ride me until your legs start shaking from the pleasure. Let me fuck you so deep you can’t even think about anybody else ever again; then I’ll flip you over and drill you to finish it off.” Nick growled, and your eyes widened at this needy side of Nick you’ve never seen before, but you were ready to give him anything he wanted.
Nick pulled off his robes, leaving his body exposed for you, you pulled off your sweater, showing off your chest and Nick's eyes devoured you, absorbing everything you showed him. He’d dreamed of this moment and what you looked like many times: but even his mind couldn’t come up with anything as beautiful as the real thing.
“Fuck you’re gorgeous,” he worshipped you allowing his hands to follow your curves once again. He pulled up your skirt, exposing your lower body as he moved your underwear to the side, positioning himself below you.
“I can’t believe you wore a skirt this small with no fucking shorts,” Nick mumbled, preparing himself.
“I wore it just for you,” you smiled, before closing the gap and pushing down onto Nick’s body, your arousal gliding you smoothly along him. Both of you groaned in disbelief, Nick relishing in how good you felt wrapped around him, his body finally reaching every part of you.
Your mouth opened widely as Nick filled you, a squeak of shock tugging at your throat as Nick squeezed your sides, pulling you up and down to get you to move.
You slid up and down his body with ease, hands on his chest for support as you road him, rolling and grinding deeper into his body, Nick hitting every point possible. Nick wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you into his chest as he began pounding into you from below, putting all of his effort into fucking you.
“Moan for me Y/N,” Nick begged, “show everyone who’s fucking mine.”
Nick's hands gripped the back of your head, fingers tangled in his hair. Every ounce of his body vibrated as he fucked you, his hips slapping against your thighs as you straddled his lap, taking everything he offered. He gave you his everything, never fucking anyone as hard as you, wanting to make you feel good.
Nick couldn’t believe how fucking beautiful you were as you cried out his name, the syllabus rolling off your tongue in complete satisfaction; and Nick knew that he would cum at any moment. He slowed his pace, wanting this to last forever.
Your nails dug into Nick’s shoulders as you clung to him, taking him well. Nick hoped you were loud enough against the music so Noah would hear; he wanted him to know that you finally got what was rightfully his.
You moaned Nick’s name as your stomach churned, nearing your release; Nick repeatedly hitting your spot over and over. You closed your eyes in ecstasy, your body turning limp as you screamed, shaking and convulsing against Nick through your orgasm.
Nick pushed into you, and you swear if he fucked any harder he’d be able to split you in half with how deep he penetrated.
“Where can I come?” Nick asked, on the brink of his climax. Y/N’s skin stuck against Nick’s chest.
“Fuck, inside of me,” you cried, pushing yourself against Nick’s hips, the only sounds filling the room were the sound of fast slaps and a string of moans fighting against the bass of the music below.
“Oh my god Y/N I’m going to I’m going-“ Nick’s fingers dug into your back, tearing your skin as he shook below you, twitching inside through his orgasm. You kissed him deeply, moaning against his lips in complete satisfaction as his release filled you, taking over your body.
“Fuck,” your head swung back, a wide smile parting your lips before you looked down at him, still sitting on top of his body.
“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you moan,” Nick smiled, satisfied as he rolled you over, pulling him into his chest, “it was fucking music to my ears.”
You chuckled, nuzzling against his chest, “So, friends off?”
Nick joined you, his throat vibrating as he laughed, “Oh yea, I’m ready to move to the stage where we can fuck whenever we want. Oh, and I can take you to dinner and we can hold hands.”
You smiled, holding yourself closer to him, “Deal, but only if I can suck you off next time.”
———
Who’s next, folio or jolly? ;)
#i’m going to hell#pls enjoy this I’m a mess#bad omens#bad omens band#bad omens cult#bad omens smut#nick ruffilo fluff#nick ruffilo#nicholas ruffilo#nick ruffilo smut#nicholas ruffilo smut#smut#Halloween#Noah Sebastian
205 notes
·
View notes
Text
Death by Chocolate
Yan!Karma Akabane x Fem!Reader
TW: Yandere themes, NSFW (mentions of physical/mental abuse), 18+ characters, college setting, poisoning
Master List
—————————————————————————
He holds a chocolate up to your lips for you to take. “Come on. Let’s get some food into you. Your skinny enough as it is. I’m gonna need you to just cooperate, or things can get a little bit rough for you. I know you don’t want that. Come on. Be a good girl for me.”
You part your quivering lip, chaffing your bound wrists behind your back as you shift uncomfortably. A tear slips down your cheek as he places the chocolate treat on your tongue. You resist the urge to bite his fingers, remembering the metallic in your mouth when he backhanded you for something similar.
“That’s a good girl!” he beams at you, acting as if you’re a child who just took her first steps.
You chew it, and you note the rich mocha and milk chocolate flavors infused in the truffle. There’s something else however. Something you can’t quite place. It’s more bitter than the mocha.
You furrow your brow as you swallow it down. What is that strange sensation numbing your tongue?
“Ah, I bet you taste it, huh? You’re making that face like you’re trying to figure out what you just ate. Feeling a little light headed yet? Feeling like your throat’s dry?”
Weary eyes meet his bright ones, his smile never wavering, your lower lip still quivering like a released bow.
“What did you feed me, Karma?”
“Oh, just something I whipped up from home ec. Sensei taught us a lot about making desserts. You know he has a sweet tooth. I might have added a little something just to sweeten the deal, though. What you just ingested, my love, is a fatal poison that will have you dead in…oh, three minutes.”
Your mouth feels parched, and it’s not because of what he just revealed to you.
“Now, here’s the antidote,” he informs you as he holds up the tiny vial. “Tell me you love me, and I’ll give it to you. You wouldn’t rather die than say it, right? I mean, there has to be some form of intelligence in that tiny brain of yours.”
Another tear trails down your cheek. You hate him so much with a burning passion that you’re honestly thinking about letting yourself die, but your self-preservation kicks in, and you at least want some form of control over things if you’re going to end your own life. Death by chocolate isn’t how you want to go out.
Looking down at the floor, you gulp down a slew of vile things to scream at him. “I love you.”
“Look at me and say it again. Tell me who you love.” He rests his elbow on his knee, propping his chin up in the palm of his hand as he looks at you with those soul eating eyes.
“I love you, Karma.” It’s easier to say if you get it over with quickly, but the taste it leaves in your mouth is just as bitter as the poison he fed you.
“That’s a good girl. I love you too.” He reaches out and pets your head.
Uncapping the vial, he lets the antidote fill your mouth, and you cringe at the awful taste.
“Yeah, I know it tastes kind of gross. I could always give you more chocolate to wash it out.”
You give him a scathing look. “That’s not funny.”
He only laughs at you. “Lighten up. You really need to work on your sense of humor.” He lifts you up off the ground and unties your wrists. “Don’t even think about trying to fight me. I’ll win. You know I will.”
What can you do against one of the top martial artists in your class? He’s a skilled assassin, an amazing fighter. Cunning as always. You saw it today. He tried to kill you for all of the things you’ve said to him in the past, he would have let you die if you didn’t give in just this once.
To avoid being hurt, you let yourself give in just one more time as he pulls you into an embrace on the couch.
“I won’t fight you, Karma,” is your curt reply.
But you want to fight him. You want to fight him so badly, but you’re so tired of being hurt physically and emotionally by him. If he’s not pinning you down and verbally assaulting you, emotionally degrading and manipulating you with the cruelest of smiles plastered on his face, then he’s beating you with the same carefree grin.
God, how you hate him. You hate him so much that you can’t help your hands curling around the lapel of his jacket.
If only…if only you were as strong as him or even Nagisa, then maybe things would be okay, maybe things would be different.
#yandere#triggering content#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere x y/n#triggering themes#yandere x darling#yandere themes#assassination classroom#yandere assassination classroom#yandere karma akabane#karma akabane#karma assassination classroom
111 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Court of Wings & Fire: Chapter Five
Summary// Eris had control of everything in his life. The war was over, he was planning to take the Autumn throne, and nothing was left to surprise him…until he met you. A mating bond with an Illyrian was like a spit in his face and neither of you could understand why fate had put you together. You both swore off relations to each other, refusing to even be in the same court, but you should have known that fate is not to be tested.
(It's here! Fair warning, this chapter includes talks of torture, pain, and some mentions of blood. Nothing too graphic but just warning you in case you are sensitive to it! I hope you guys enjoy! <3)
Warnings: Mentions of torture, Death, Mor Situation, Abusive father
Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four /
It was two days of torture that awaited you as they dragged you through the doors. Your cries to Eris had seemed to fall on deaf ears as they gagged you, chained you, and beat you until you were silent and numb. They had inflicted the worst pain you had ever been through upon your body.
And when that had not worked and you did not reveal your court’s secrets…they turned to your wings.
The only saving grace was that they did not clip them. Whether this be from ignorance or lack of care you weren’t sure but you were grateful. However, they made sure to slash the sensitive skin with faebane tipped daggers, their smiles vile as you began to cough up blood from the blisters in your throat caused by your screams.
After all was said and done you were convinced this was the end for you. No one was coming to save you. It was something you had made peace with as you curled into yourself and pleaded that they let you go peacefully.
But, as always, when did you ever get what you wanted?
They had come to your torture room early and dragged you down the hall of cells from where you had initially come from. You could hear the moaning of other prisoners but you were too weak to look up, your eyes barely open when keys jingled to your left and you were thrown into a cell.
You lay in that spot as they chortled and strolled away, your bloodied nails digging into the cold concrete underneath you as closed your eyes. All you wanted was to sleep.
There was a shuffling sound behind you and your mind registered the familiar scent of spice and embers before Eris came into your view. He was dirty and bruised, his jaw black and blue, but his eyes were what shocked you.
They were full of fear and concern…for you.
“Please be alive, please be alive,” He murmured while pressing two fingers to your neck. “Come on, Y/N, please.”
“I’m alive.” You croaked, watching as his shoulders slumped in relief. “Leave me be. I don’t have the energy to fight with you anymore.”
It was silent for a moment and you closed your eyes, your body shivering, before his large hands lifted you up and shimmied you into his lap. You frowned, glaring at him before a small semblance of warmth washed over your body as he rested his hands on your arms.
“I thought you’d be more comfortable here.” Eris whispered, his brows furrowed as he used the bits of magic he had left to keep you warm. “It’s the least I could do.”
“Thank you.” You said softly, resisting the urge to nuzzle into his thigh as you stared up at the ceiling. This sudden act of kindness took you off guard and you faltered for an excuse to explain it away, your shivers fading as he rested his head against the wall.
“What did they try to get out of you?” He asked quietly.
“Nesta’s location.”
“Did you-”
“No.” You cut him off, frowning. “Now please leave me alone.”
Another beat of quiet fell over the two of you before you felt him take a deep breath and sit up straighter. You glared at him, annoyed, but he ignored it.
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier.” He murmured, his eyes staring a hole into the wall behind you. It took you a second to register his words and what he meant and when you did not say anything, he continued.
“What I said earlier was out of anger and ignorance. It was a low blow that should not have been spoken. I want to apologize for that.”
“I didn’t even know you could apologize.” You replied with a slight smile on your bloody lip. Eris noticed and seemed to fight against returning it at your snark.
“I rarely do, however, I realize the generalizations I make about your people and how they must make you feel…and I am sorry.” Eris was watching your face, looking for something.
“You didn’t feel sorry when you made them about Cassian and Azriel.” You pointed out, the pain starting to become a dull sting as you focused on him.
“I’m not as invested in them as I am you.” He smirked before realizing his words. You raised your eyebrows as he cleared his throat and changed the topic. “I saw your wings…what they did. Can you still fly?”
Your face fell and you missed the look of guilt on his face as you shook your head, subconsciously moving closer to him. “Not in this condition. I’m lucky they didn’t cut them off.”
“I thought they cut them off women when they first bled?” Eris questioned, frowning. “Or is that a lie?”
“They do but I am not from that group of misogynistic, barbarian pigs.” You sneered. “I was raised in a different tribe.”
Eris waited for you to elaborate more and when you realized he wasn’t going to drop the subject you sighed. He had been nothing but cruel to you and your kind, why would you want to give him more information? And to top it off this is something deeply personal to you…wouldn’t that strengthen the bond?
However, you also knew it was 50/50 right now if you would even make it through the week. With no signs of a rescue near and no medic, the two of you were running out of time in this life whether you wanted to admit or it not. Did you want to die with someone you hate or with someone that you might be able to tolerate if he could understand you better?
You licked your lips and took on a more comfortable position, watching as his eyes widened in surprise. He didn’t expect you to actually speak about your past.
“My mother wanted more out of her life than to be used for breeding and raising children as you so eloquently put it,” You began, humming as he shifted slightly in embarrassment. “She was a dreamer. She didn’t want her wings clipped and to be tied to the Earth. She was meant for the stars.”
“And there were others like her, women and men. So, with a few others who had the courage to fight for their dreams, they left in the middle of the night and never looked back.” You smiled as you closed your eyes, envisioning your mom. “She was so brave.”
“Was?” Eris murmured, his eyes turning soft as you gave a sad grimace.
“The new camp worked for years and years, growing to about fifty strong. The leaders, my father and mother, trained everyone equally. They taught us to read, write, and fight. It was a paradise that some Illyrians could only dream of. But nothing good ever lasts.” You whispered the last part, your nails digging into your arms as you painfully wrapped them around your chest.
“One night we were discovered. I don’t know how or who but they found us.” Your eyes were glassy as you stared at the ceiling. “They attacked the elders, striking them down with fury. It’s a great betrayal to leave your tribe unless it’s for
something like Cass and Az do. They recognized the elders as the ones who left and they were intent on executing every last traitor.”
You didn’t realize how tense you were until you felt a hand squeeze your arm, pulling your eyes back to Eris. He had a solemn look on his face, not expecting such a dark stain on your life, but you didn’t want his pity.
You were strong, you didn’t need anyone. Right?
“There were so many of them…flying above and fighting below. I remember looking up and seeing their swords glowing in the moonlight, dripping with blood that landed on the crimson snow. I was only eight at the time and I fled to our tent, looking for a weapon when one of them saw me.”
“They followed me into my tent, threatening to do unspeakable things to me.” The tightness in your chest grew as you curled your bruised knuckles in anger. “They were going to take me back to the camp and sell me off, cut my wings, until my mother appeared behind them and sliced off their heads.”
“She was a fighter,” You laughed, wincing as the movement hurt your ribs. “She reached out for me, telling me we had to leave, but when I started running towards her another Illyrian warrior appeared behind her and stabbed her through the heart.”
“And they stole her wings.” Tears were falling down your face as you took a shaky breath, one of your hands raising to touch your broken wings.
“Y/N,” Eris said, taking your hand in his and turning your face towards him. “No child should lose a mother but to see it…I cannot imagine the pain.”
His eyes were full of nothing but sympathy, his eyebrows furrowed in anger and sadness for you. It was a side of him you had never seen, never knew could exist, and you felt the bond inside you hum as you squeezed his hand in return.
“I just hate that they took her wings away. The thing she wanted most, the freedom it gave her, all gone in an instant.” You bit down on your lip, shaking your head. “They knew it too. It was why they did it.”
“Did your father survive?” He asked gently.
“My father came and killed them, scooping me up and taking off into the night sky. I was a mess, of course, begging to go back to my mother but he knew this was our only chance to escape. After hours of flying, he found an old cabin and after making sure it was safe, he made that our home. He raised me by himself and taught me everything I know.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s in Velaris, alive.” You assured, your lips lifting when you saw Eris’s face lighten with ease. “A few decades ago I was out hunting when Rhys, Cass, and Az found me. They were having a snowball fight.”
Eris laughed, actually laughed, and despite the pain you were in you couldn’t stop the butterflies that formed in your stomach at the sound. He looked younger when he laughed, less serious, and you didn’t dare think of how much more handsome it made him. At least not for longer than a minute.
“A snowball fight?”
“Mhm,” You nodded, rolling your eyes in amusement. “A solstice tradition. Rhys sensed me and tracked me down though I did give him a run for his money. When he learned my story and met my father he invited us back to Velaris. The rest is history.”
“That’s…not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” You hummed, gazing up at him as he rested his head back against the wall.
“I’m not sure but it wasn’t that.” Eris chuckled. “Very few people surprise me, Y/N. It’s refreshing when someone does.”
“Careful, Eris,” You say playfully, noting how his nostrils flared when his name fell off your lips. “It sounds like we are getting along and I’m sure that would ruin your image.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His tone was light but you noticed a shift in the atmosphere, as if you had offended him. Whatever friendliness that had blossomed between the two of you seemed to be quickly dying.
“It’s no secret how you feel about me and my race. Even if I am different,” You sighed. “Even if we are mates. I mean, look how you reacted with Mor-”
“Do not speak on things you do not know.” He hissed.
Before you could blink you found yourself almost falling from his lap as he pulled away from you, his eyes turning cold as you struggled to sit up. You scowled, your own anger returning as well as your shivers as his warmth faded.
“I know what Mor has said, what Keir did. If you have a side to this story I will gladly hear you out.”
“I do not have to explain myself to you, bond be damned,” Eris growled.
“I knew your caring facade was an act.” You frowned, turning your eyes to his. “You know, Eris, just because the world might see you as a monster doesn’t mean you have to be one. As far as we know no one is coming for us. All we have down here is each other.”
You were using the last bits of your energy to yell at him but you didn’t care. You had just poured your heart out to him, given him your story despite your qualms and this was how he was acting? He needed a damn reality check.
“I was willing to hear you out, to see what other side of you there is because the man I just saw minutes ago wasn’t a man who could do that to Mor.” You pointed out, scooting away from him. “These might be our last days and I just wanted to feel safe with you, with anyone. And I wanted you to feel that too. But I guess I was wrong.”
He refused to look at you as you turned around and lay on the floor, closing your eyes. If he was going to refuse to open up, to try and be friendly, then you didn’t want whatever was left of your time to be in vain. Sleep was better than frustration.
“I regret my actions with Mor every day.” He murmured, tucking a strand of greasy hair behind his ear as you turned your head in surprise. “But I had no choice. It was a lose-lose scenario.”
“How?’
“I knew Mor didn’t want the engagement from the start. I wasn’t keen on it either. I may be cruel but I would never willingly take someone against their will, take their freedom. But my father all but demanded I followed through, wanting to strengthen alliances.”
“However, I had a plan. A plan to get us both out of this engagement. I couldn’t tell Mor yet, wanting to make sure it was foolproof, and a few nights before we were meant to meet again she pulled a stupid, reckless stunt that ruined everything.” Eris shook his head in annoyance as he replayed that moment over and over in his head.
“She avoided me like the plague when in Hewn City. I can’t say I blame her but if she had just waited…” Eris took a deep breath and sighed. “I can’t blame her for what she did. I can be angry, but she didn’t know and perhaps I should’ve said something earlier. I don’t know, it’s one of my many regrets.”
“Many?” You raised a brow, smiling when he shot you a look.
“She went and ruined herself with Cassian, knowing how I…” He paused, briefly glancing at you before back down. “How I used to feel about his race. She was desperate to end it, I understand as I felt the same but what she did was stupid.”
“Why did you leave her out there? Why couldn’t you help her? Or heal her?”
“Do you think me so cruel that I would leave her out to die? That I wouldn’t try to save an innocent person put into a terrible position?” He asked you, eyes narrowing. But before you could answer, he shrugged his shoulders with an agitated huff. “I suppose you do since it’s the narrative I’ve allowed.”
“I wanted to heal her, to help her. My men wanted to help her. But we couldn’t.” He said lowly. “Keri had beaten her to a bloody pulp, tortured her in truly terrible ways for doing what she did, but he also knew that if I touched her that the responsibility of her, the torture of her, would get blamed on me. He knew it and he counted on it.”
“I hate him.” You interrupted with gritted teeth. “I met him once and you would think with the way he looked at me that I was lower than dirt.”
“Keir and my father are similar in the way that they truly care for no one but themselves and they hold their power by betting on the empathy of others. Empathy and love is a weakness for them.” Eris acknowledged, looking you over. “Though I would say we both are lower than dirt right now.”
“You make jokes?” You smirked, propping your head up after a bit of struggling “I must have died back there then for I never thought you capable of such lowly things as humor.”
He ignored you though you didn’t miss how his cheeks became slightly tinted with pink.
“But I knew,” he began once more, looking at his chains. “I knew if I touched her, the torture my father would put her through would be much, much worse. It would make what Keir did look like a scraped knee.”
“I’ve heard stories of your father, how he murdered Lucien’s lover.” You whisper. “I also heard you took no part in it.”
“I didn’t. I was chained for that, and beaten for two weeks until my mother was able to spare me. My father was going to kill me for being insubordinate. Just one less heir vying for his death.”
You blanch and find yourself reaching out for him, not even realizing what you were doing until your fingers were brushing his hand. He looked up in surprise, frowning, and you immediately pulled away.
“I made sure she would stay alive, and made sure no one would be able to find her besides Rhys and Azriel, but that was as much as I could do. I know how it made me seem and I do not care what others think. The more people who think of me as a monster, the better. It means they know I am not to be messed with.” He finished though you could tell there was something still bothering him, something deep that seemed like it hadn’t seen light in hundreds of years.
“But…” you added, knowing he wanted to add more. He looked at you, really looked at you, and whispered.
Eris watched you, studying to see if he could trust you. You knew the feeling.
“But sometimes I’m tired of pretending.”
You felt the bond shift again, glowing brighter, but this time you didn’t pay it as much attention. You didn’t know if he felt it as well and you briefly considered that perhaps you were imagining it all, that the pain had made you delirious. Or even that you might already be dead.
But when you sat up slowly and he began to lean towards you, you realized just how very real the moment was. Your heart was racing, your body sweating, and for the first time in your life, you felt alive.
Until you moved wrong and flexed your wings involuntarily, sending white-hot daggers of pain into your body. It had you crying out and before you could stop yourself, you began to throw up from the spasming nerves. You didn’t have time to feel humiliated as your nails dug into the floor, your throat burning along with your skin.
Eris moved beside you and moved your hair out of your face, brushing the back of your neck and then your cheeks with his bare knuckles. “You’re burning, Y/N.”
“N-no I’m not.” You shivered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m cold.”
“You’ve probably got infection setting in.” He murmured, pulling you back into his lap. You were too weak to fight him and also too numb to even care what that meant for you. If this was how you went…at least it was with a friend.
“A friend?” Eris chuckled, watching as you realized you must have spoken your thought aloud. “I don’t have friends.”
“You could,” You whispered hoarsely, closing your eyes to rest your head against his chest. “If you wanted to.”
“Acquaintances maybe…but not friends.” He mumbled and you let out a small snort.
“Acquaintances then, that’s what we’ll be.” You smiled, your mind already dosing as your body yearned for sleep. Eris kept touching your forehead and kept one of his fingers on your wrist, counting under his breath which was oddly soothing.
Just as you were falling asleep a loud noise came from the end of the hall. People were shouting and the sound of swords clanging echoed as Eris stood while cradling you in his arms, shushing you as you whimpered in pain.
“I’m sorry, I know it hurts. Just stay awake a little while longer. I don’t know what’s happening.” He urged you, looking around for a weapon before two large men appeared before the two of you.
It took you a second to recognize your brothers but when you saw the glowing siphons you almost cried out in praise.
“Cassian…” You called out, reaching out your hand. “Azriel.”
The door was kicked off its hinges and before you could react you were being transferred to Azriel’s arms, his face pale as he took in the sight of your wings. Casisan quickly did away with Eris’s chains before hoisting him up as well.
“Be careful with her,” You heard Eris whisper, his voice tight. “Her wings…”
“We know.” Azriel snapped, nodding at Cassian as he kicked down the stone wall and took off into the sky. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s get you home.”
Taglist: : @elizarikaallen @kristeristerin @a-frog-with-a-laptop @littlebbb @introvertsuntes68-blog @clairebear08 @feyretopia @jangmi-latte @bubybubsters @nightless @glaciuswduo @yourfavf1wag
#eris vanserra#acotar#acowaf#eris acotar smut#eris x reader#eris fic#eris imagine#eris x reader acotar#eris acotar#eris x reader smut#eris vanserra x reader#eris vanserra acotar#eris vanserra x reader smut#eris vanserra fic#mor#cassian#azriel#acotar fic#acotar reader#acotar reader fic#acotar reader imagine#acotar reader smut#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf#acotar imagine#acotar smut
231 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm cruel. breakup hcs for the boys with associated music (written by yours truly; an aro) and for fem reader
cw breakups???, (mean feelings, fighting)
you and Gaz fall out of love. it's slow, it's agonizing, and both of you can feel it. it lingers, gnaws at your insides, your soul. not a distaste toward the other, rather... nothingness- you want to love him, it's just that you're empty, both of you husks as love escaped you slowly.
you sit down and try to talk about it until one of you rips the bandaid off; but letting go is not that easy. it goes on for a while, on and off, little fights, and emotionless sex. sometimes you cry, other days it's the both of you. it finally ends with one last goodbye one night, and no good morning text ever again.
he's gone, but he leaves his mark. long time passes before you realize one day you haven't thought of him for a while.
Johnny and you never really were together. it was always open, never committing to anything; neither of you brave enough to label what you shared. there was a passion, something that ignited each time he looked at you, touched you...
but it became too much, violent, and aggressive as he crawled back to you each time you pushed him away, and vice versa. there was always something that helped you look past eachothers' red flags. no option to move on as long as you fed on eachother... it culminated in big fight; until you were both exhausted, utterly spent, and there were no more tears left to cry. then radio silence.
you don't see him for a long time after that. and the next time you see him, you pass him on the street as if he weren't there. you'd been killing your ankles by wearing heels for weeks for the occasion if you run into him, so you could level with him and claim moral high ground.
no hellos, no nothing, you pass eachother by. your heels clicking with your each agonizing step.
Ghost... well, you never saw him truly. there wasn't enough time to see all of him. he got cold feet way too quick.
pushing you away with all his might, no matter how gently or roughly you approached him. nothing seemed to work. he kept such high walls that it didn't feel like a breakup, rather just a big fight culminating one night in something more. words were thrown around, as you see there's no way out of this, you tell him how you truly feel about being treated how he has been handling you; rough, and with no caution to your wellbeing. he said mean things in return about you. hurtful, vile; his emotions ran rampant. as if a wildcat, cornered, he was lashing out and scratching everything in his path without a second thought.
he packed his stuff afterward and you never saw him again. questions hung in the air. you didn't delete his number, and to this day you keep seeing him in your periphery every now and then; dissipating into fragments of your damaged soul when you turn and look to face him.
you and John met way too soon after his divorce. he needed something to get his mind off of it all, and you were there, eager to give yourself and everything at your disposal to and for him.
but you were never her. you could never be her. that perfect woman, closer in age to John than you were, a person he could imagine having a family with. but you were too sweet for that, too free and way too independent. he found it exciting and was happy for a while. but you couldn't change your ways. it went on for a long time, there was even talk about marriage... but it never came. you felt caged, and it bubbled out of you one night. he understood, listening to you and agreeing with what you were saying. that was the only time you'd seen him cry. and the next morning, you packed your stuff together and left. no fighting, no trying to hold you back, although in the back of your mind you wished he did.
for years, the urge to reach out to him haunted you, but you never did, knowing it was good that it ended when it did.
(a/n: well this one happened to turn out super fucking sad I'm sorry, I don't know what possessed me to write this, I don't usually write about this)
#I'M SO SORRY#I'm not projecting I'm really not#nothing like this has eeever happened to me#berettalks#task force 141 headcanons#task force 141#tf 141#cod 141#task force 141 x reader#cod mw2#gaz cod#soap cod#ghost cod#price cod#simon ghost riley x you#kyle garrick x reader#soap x you#john price x reader#Spotify
115 notes
·
View notes
Text
New You
Sam Coe x GN! Reader x Delgado
GN! Reader. No pronouns, no use of Y/N, or reader descriptions used. Reader is called Rook a few times, like in some Crimson Fleet quests.
Some angst. A lot of explicit language. Implied sexual relationships. Pining for a criminal. Poor Sam. Sam is supportive but worried. Delgado is a warning all by himself.
You're there to watch as the pirates you've worked beside for months are taken to prison. They have a few things they'd like to say.
This is about the Crimson Fleet Undercover plot.
I just started the questline. I have no idea how it ends of if anything along these lines even happens. My brain literally bullied me into writing it 😭 I stopped everything to write this lmao.
I really love the theme of going undercover, assimilating, and then having to deal with who you've become and how you've changed after everything. So there's some of that in here.
“You sure you wanna be here for this?”
“I have to see it through, Sam. After months of being undercover, it wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t.”
He grunts softly. “Alright. Just prepare yourself for pirates to be, well, pirates.”
Doors open on the other side of the transport deck. A squad of UC security and Naval troops, all decked out to the nines, file in, holding mean looking rifles.
The sounds of trouble already echo through the open door.
“Ya fuckin’ bastards! Let me go, I didn’t do jack shit!” A mane of red-brown hair comes in the doorway first as Mathis is quite literally shoved through. It was no surprise that he’s giving everyone trouble.
It doesn’t take much time for him to notice you standing to the side. “You!” He snarls. “I’m gonna put a bullet through your head if it’s the last thing I ever do!”
The laugh that comes out of you is rough, full of vile, and cruel delight. “Shut the hell up, Mathis. The last thing you’ll ever do is rot in a two-by-four cell. I hope they make it cold just for you!”
Mathis screams more explicit insults, most geared toward your mother. The guards fight and yank at the man, rifles raised. Still, they manage to subdue him, robbing you of a chance to put Mathis down yourself. You’re laughing until he’s well past the other doorway and out of sight, you hoped he could hear it from down the hall.
“Seems like a real winner. Good friend of yours?” Sam asks, studying you.
“Fuck no. Hated that asshole from the moment he opened his mouth, to be perfectly honest. I’m going to sleep well knowing he’s going through his worst nightmare.”
Sam’s face pinches together, you only catch a glimpse of it from the corner of your eye. His mouth twists, as if he has more than just, “Ah, I see.”
“Have something you wanna say?” The response is snappy, challenging, automatic—something you had to adopt in the midst of pirates, and you regret it immediately. “I…I didn’t mean that…” You sigh, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose.
“It’s alright. I get it. Just try to remember you’re not a pirate anymore.”
“Yeah...I’m working on it.”
His eyes linger. You can feel his thoughtful gaze. It makes you itch.
Pirate life was at least simplistic. Somebody had a problem? You’d know about it immediately. A short knife fight or a brawl and it’d be over. Done.
Being around Sam again was…well it would take an adjustment period.
Months of pirate life, a life you’d adapted to very quickly, and you’re spit back out into civilization on the other side. There was no guidance on how to go back to “everyday life”—on how to shed this new person you’d become.
It’s infuriating. Everyone expects you to pick back up from where you left off…but you can’t. You’re not the same person anymore. Sometimes you wake up and think you’re still on the Key.
Sometimes you wish you were still on the Key.
“I can see you thinking behind that wall of silence.” Sam gently says. His voice sounds so loud on the empty transport deck. “Just know that I’m here for you—always will be. You wanna talk about what happened during those months, you can come to me, judgement free. Promise.”
When you don’t respond, Sam chuckles. “You’re always so quiet now—which is fine,” he’s quick to add, “I just want to help.”
“Yeah…thanks.” Is all you can manage as the transport deck’s doors open again and more armed personnel file through.
Naeva is silent, head held high…until she catches sight of you.
“Oh, it’s on when I get out of here, Rook!” She spits through her teeth, trying to lunge for you. The guards stop her, pull her back into line, but her body remains tense.
“Looking forward to it, Naeva.” A cruel grin breaks free. “You know, I never killed that other Rook you sent me after. Austin Rake. He’s at some Starport, drinking for free right now.”
“You fucking traitor! You’d better be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your damn life! ‘Cause when you don’t, I’ll be there to put a knife through your back!”
“We’ll see about that. I’m sure you’ll get a knife through yours first. Delgado probably isn’t happy that it was your recruit who brought his empire down around him.”
She grins, something dangerous lurks in her expression. “Oh, I’m sure Delgado has some plans for you, Rook. After everything, I can’t imagine how you’re gonna look him in the eyes.” They’re nearing the other doors, Naeva’s trying to twist back to face you, fighting the pushing and pulling of her security escort. “You know he trusted you. Honest to God. Have fun living with that for the rest of your life, traitor!”
Her words hit a nerve. You were very careful not to let it show. Still…it hurt.
As the doors close, Sam turns to face you. “Listen, why don’t we just go? This isn’t healthy.”
“Not really focused on whether it’s healthy or not.”
“That’s part of my point. You have to get away from this stuff, away from the Fleet. This whole thing is just going to give you more to think about and keep you awake at night.”
Lashing out and snapping back a retort is what you want to do. But instead, you take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
His voice turns soft, pleading. “Don’t go silent again. Please, talk to me.”
“Sam,” you start, very carefully, “I need this. This is my closure.”
“Are you sure?” His blue eyes were soft, full of worry.
More questions—and feelings. It agitated you. Made you grind your teeth together. “I’m sure.”
He looks away, frowning. He’d probably bring it up again, but future you would have to deal with that. Right now, you were more focused on—
Doors slid open. Your heart skips with that familiar flutter while a hard knot forms in your stomach.
Delgado walks, freely, without any guards touching him, through the doorway. He’s given space and walks leisurely as if he owns the Vanguard. There’s no hassling, there’s no pushing.
You’re expecting the worst—or for him not even to look at you. Instead, he holds your stare with a faint smile. “Hold up.” And the guards around him actually stop.
You know that look in his eyes, you’ve seen it a hundred times, your feet move without any command or thought.
Delgado. Leader of the Crimson Fleet. Even if you tried, you couldn’t spare him.
He steps away from the security unit. One last private meeting with the man who owned you, heart and soul, for the last few months.
“I was wondering whether I’d see you here.”
Why are you smiling? “Couldn’t resist the urge to tell Mathis one last time to go fuck himself.”
He chuckles. It sends your nerves out of whack. “I’m very impressed by you. Playing the part that well…” he tilts his head, a secretive smile just for the two of you catches at his lips. “…certainly had me fooled.”
Late nights in dim lighting. Cigarette smoke. Legs tangled up in sheets. Whispers. Rare laughter. It floods back, threatening to break your tough façade.
“Tell me, mi tesoro, are you prepared to go back to the life of normalcy? With your,” He leans over, looking Sam up and down with open distaste, who stands further back—arms crossed and glaring, “little Vaquero?”
“I’m working on it.”
Delgado barks out a laugh. “I know this person you are now. You’ll never be satisfied again.” There’s a teasing glint in his eye that you’re stubbornly avoiding.
“My life before the Fleet was just as exciting and satisfying.”
He hums, his smile turning darker. “I doubt that very much. There isn’t anything so thrilling as robbing a GalBank transport and returning home to celebrate with drinks and…” He pauses, eyes scanning you. “Well, that last part is just between you and me, eh?” His eyes flickered to Sam, then back. “Can he give you that?”
You chuckle, it’s forced. “Delgado. Jealous to a fault. Some things never change.”
“You know he can’t.”
“He can give me something else. Happiness. Security. Maybe even be a life-long partner.”
“And I couldn’t? You insult me, my dear. I would have given you everything.”
“Just as long as you had what you wanted first.”
He holds up a finger. “We obviously know one another very well. So, I offer you this. If you ever get tired of playing nice in a universe that is anything but, you know where to find me.”
“You’re serious?” Your voice lowers to a hiss. “And what, break you out of high security prison just for you to kill me? No thanks.”
“On my word, all debts and grievances would be squared. Think of it. I’d have you by my side—we could build something better than the Fleet ever was. Be free of the UC, the Rangers, everything. Like we always talked about.”
A guard behind him starts walking over. “Alright, time’s up. Let’s go.”
You’re frowning, eyes flickering anywhere but his. “You’re insane.”
Delgado’s expression turns. The light fading from his eyes. “You’ve never been satisfied. It’s something I really like about you.”
He lets the guard corral him back to the others. Your fists are tightly gripped. “The person you knew was undercover.”
“Tell yourself whatever makes you feel better.”
As he’s escorted away, you want to follow. Your legs tense, trying to keep still. His parting words before he passes through the door are, “I’ll be seeing you.”
Then he’s gone. The transport deck feels emptier than it ever has been.
Never satisfied. A life of normalcy. Going back to surveying planets and doing odd jobs for the Rangers. The idea claws at you. Your mind battles with the concept, with the unspoken feelings. Remnants of your past self against whoever you are now.
We could build something better than the Fleet ever was.
You know where to find me.
Sam walks up, standing by your side. Watching. You hadn’t moved. Still staring at the closed doors.
“What did he mean, ‘I’ll be seeing you’?”
The lie is easy. “No idea.”
59 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bright — Hobie Brown
🕷synopsis: Hobie has queit the crush on the oblivious spider–healer.
🕷genre: fluff!
🕷tag: gn!reader × Hobie Brown
🕷authors note: first hobie fic, hope I did well!
Hobie had never expected to fall for a varient of his. One that was so different from him anyway.
First time he saw you, he was one of your patients. Your radioactive spider gave you the regular spider powers, but your special ability was healing. Hobie did not respect alot of people, but those who worked in the medical industry were one of the exceptions. He would usually refuse to visit the infirmary if he got hurt, but this one time was really bad. He had an injury on his arm, obtained in a fight with a variant of Green Goblin, but with just one touch from you and a few of your webbings it was as good as new.
You were sweet, asking him if he was okay, trying to keep him distracted from the fact that his bone was snapped in two and that there was a deep gnarly gnash on his forearm. Your touch was gentle, your tone brought him calmness. You were queit funny too, cracking jokes with him. He'd forgotten all about the injury by the time you were done wrapping it up for him.
Since then, he's noticed you around more. Subconsciously, he would find himself bringing Pavitir and Gwen to sit in a table where he could see you during lunch breaks at the cafeteria. You'd usually sit with the other 'healer'—esque spider-people. He'd find himself listening in to your conversations, chuckling when you joked, admired how you looked while listening to people.
"I can see the love blooming!" Pavitir would say excitedly. "The punk and the healer! That would be so cute!" Hobie would just scoff and give him a small smile, unable to truly disagree with him. It would be cute. You were an entirely different genre to him. With your colourful converses and mismatched socks (you were the only spider-person who would wear socks ontop of their suit's feet). Your bright attitude and your taste in music, which was queit different from his.
"Aren't they a little too different for Hobie?" Gwen argued, "They're cute, but I don't think they'd give you a second thought."
It was true. You did not pay him alot of attention, why would you? To you, He was just another patient. You saw hundreds of your varients everyday. He shouldn't be special to you. You became a distant fantasy of his for a while.
That was until a few months ago, your paths crossed again.
He was supposed to be reporting to Miguel about something, and decided to just go pester him instead. The deadline he gave him was already past due it's date, not that he cared, deadlines are a concept made just to insure stress. He was strutting to his office like he does, when he heard loud yelling coming from inside. He did not care much at first, everyone had to suffer from Miguel's uncontrollable wrath every now and then.
That's until he heard your voice replying to him. An urge he hadn't felt before overtook him. He was reckless most often than not, but he did not think twice before ordering LYLA to open the door to let him in. The sight of Miguel towering over you, glaring daggers at you, while you hugged your medical kit to your chest and looked away filled him with a what most would call protectivness.
"Oi, calm down, mate—" He rushed over, standing in between the two of you, making sure to shield your body with his so Miguel couldn't see you. "—What's happening here?" He did not care why Miguel was raging, frankly, the question was more directed to you. "My rapture viles are apparently 'unready' because someone took a break to go home last week." He replied, his chest heaving.
"But, boss, I couldn't—"
"I don't care," He yelled, "It's your job, your responsibilty—" He tried to look at you, but Hobie moved, still sheilding you, holding his hands up.
He decided if he couldn't get him off your back, he'd just try to get him on his so he'd forget about you for a little.
"Damn, can't survive a day without your little drug? Should've told me mate, woulda' hooked you up with something much stronger from my universe."
He heard you giggle, and for a moment his little unbothered facade fell. His eyes softened, his mouth curled into a small smile. He wanted to keep you giggling.
"What..." Miguel's eyes came in contact with his. "What on——¡Dios Mio! Where have you been?" Seems like his plan worked. "Where is the intel I asked about—It's been a week, you—"
Hobie doesn't remember much of it after that. Miguel kept yelling at him instead, and he helped keeping him distracted while you sneaked out. One thing he remembers though, is Miguel telling him to get out and then losing his mind completely, rambling in spanish.
When Hobie left his office, he chuckled, putting both his hands on his pockets. He was starting to walk away, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Um, Spider-Punk, right?" His colours changed. From their usual grey to a pinkish hue. You might've not caught it, but anyone who knew him knew that was an unusual occurance. "I wanted to thank you, um, for.." You shifted your feet, looking down and hugging the med-kit closer. "For getting him off my back. I owe you one. I'm sorry you had to be yelled at, I felt really bad and—"
"Hobie."
"What?"
"It's Hobie Brown. My name." He usually didn't go out giving his name to people like that, most just called him 'Punk' wherever he went. " N' it's okay. No need to apologise, or thank me. Someone needed to get him off your back. Bloke's done lost the plot long ago." He joked, and you cracked a smile. "Besides, you don't owe me. If anything, I owe you. You're the one who saved my arm after that incident on Earth—...I cannot remember, actually."
You laughed, and his colour changed again. To yellow. "Oh, yes! I remember that. Your mask wasn't off then. I recognised you now from your suit and spikes." Ah, he was a bloody idiot. Of course it wouldn't have changed anything, but maybe that's why you didn't notice him around during lunch breaks. You didn't even know what he looked like. "But truly, thank you. If it weren't for you, he would've chewed my head off." You pat his arm awkwardly, but just your touch made him feel all sorts of things. His colours changed, alot.
He coughed, clearing his throat. His colours were set back on pink again. What was wrong with him? He'd never felt this way before. It was disgustingly...sweet, and he did not like feeling things he didn't understand.
" 'Tis fine, really. We look out for each other." He spoke, trying his best to seem laidback, uncaring, unbothered like he always was. It was tough though, with the way your eyes shone and sparkled and how he felt like just staring at you made his face heat up. You smiled, nodding. "We do, yeah."
He didn't want the conversation to end there. He did not know if there would be another chance to talk to you.
"I should—"
"Do you want to—"
Both of you paused. You chuckled, shaking it off. "You go first."
"I was just gonna ask if you wanted to join me 'n my mates on our table in the cafeteria. Heard they're making pizza's today." He felt himself internally cringe. It sounded way better in his head. This just sounded like he was a middle schooler.
Yet you smiled at him. That sweet, beautiful smile of yours. "I'd like that, if your friends will have me.." Gwen and Pavitr were the ones who encouraged him to ask you anyway. "..I just have to finish up the Rapture viles for Miguel. I'll finish up at the labs and come."
He nodded, and you rushed to your work. He wanted to come with, to accompany you, but he felt that was too forward.
That day was the first time you ever hung out together. It became a regular occurance after. You'd leave your little healers and scientists convention table and go sit with them. Gwen and you bonded queit quickly, and Pavitr became your bestfriend from day one. Hobie learned that you were just as a hopless romantic as Pavitr was, which didn't surprise him. Not that much anyway.
The more he learned about you, the more he felt a little more attracted. Your energy and your sweetness brought an unfamiliar warmth into his life.
As the months passed, he felt his feelings only increasing and not subsiding. The more time he spent with you, whether it be on missions, hang outs, or just visits at the infirmary, the more he felt like he wanted to spend all his time with you. Not just these fleeting times.
He tried making it obvious a couple of times how he felt about you. It was no use beating around the bush, it was either you liked him or did not, and he wasn't someone with alot of patience nor did he like not being upfront about how he felt. In fact, he really liked being upfront with you.
The problem was that you did not pick up on his hints, his little touches, his small gestures of affection. The way he made sure you were okay, even though with your powers, you were indestructible. The way his hand always seemed to be around you. Gosh, the way he looked at you made it queit obvious too. But that was all to no avail.
"I'm going bonkers." He remembers telling Gwen. "Do ya think I made them uncomfortable? Cocked it up? They wouldn't flat out reject me, too nice to do that, do you think—"
"I don't think it's any of that." Gwen knew better than Hobie. You told her alot of stuff, but she couldn't just pass them on to Hobie on a golden spoon. "I think they're just oblivious. Like truly."
He let out a disgruntled scoff. " N' What am I suppose to do about that? I tried everything."
"Try asking them out, just as simple as that."
"And if they reject me? Bloody lovely, that would be, hm? They wouldn't want to be friends with me too, then."
Pavitr spoke up then. He too, knew alot more than he was letting on. Difference between him and Gwen is that she hid it better. "Since when did you care about the consequences of your actions?"
"I don't, because everything else is trivial," He sat up, "This, is not."
"Just ask them out, man!"
"Yeah, I'm with Pav on this."
"Tsk.." He rolled his eyes, and sighed. That was the only way he could truly know what you felt about him. But to him, if this went wrong, he wouldn't forgive himself.
If he couldn't be in your life as a lover, he wouldn't mind being a friend. He would settle for anything, just to have a moment of your time.
They kept encouraging him for weeks on end, and when the time came, the four of you were on the roof, chatting away. Pav and Gwen excused themselves, saying that their 'gizmos are malfunctioning' and that they needed to go to someone in Tech about it, leaving you and Hobie sitting at the ledge.
It was silent for a bit, and you noticed it. "You're awfully queit." His colours changed from blue to pink. It was queit the obvious hint, and he wasn't sure how you didn't pick up on the fact that he's always pink when you're around. "Just a bit knackered." He replied, looking over the skyline.
You laughed, and he found himself involuntarily smiling. Like he always has since he met you. Hobie's chest felt warm when you laughed, it was like music to his ear. "Your accent and those slang words of yours are so silly."
"Silly?" He exclaimed, putting a hand on his chest, acting offended. You laughed harder. "Excuse you, this english is that of the queen. Whom I don't respect. I don't respect any monarchy—"
"—Or any authority."
"—..yes, or any authority. But my slang words are not silly."
"Oh, I didn't mean it like that." You replied, "It's silly as in funny—not bothersome. It's..cute, one of the cutest things about you."
Hobie went a shade darker.
"Ah, so there are other cute stuff about me, huh?" He teased, his heart fluttered. "Care to tell me what they are? I'm all ears." You hit his arm lightly, looking away. Hobie couldn't see your face, but your flushed ears gave you away. "Nothing else.."
He put his hand on his chest again, and moved away. His little antics made you laugh, they always did. "Fine——Fine. Stop being dramatic." You adjusted yourself near him. "I just.. you're pretty cute in general."
"Most people wouldn't call me cute, but then again I don't care what most people call me." Your eyes met, and Hobie's eyes fell on your lips. "Except you, and all.."
Your ears flushed again. This time, Hobie decided to be bold. It was now or never.
His voice was hesitant, but he tried to hold himself as he spoke. "Hey, some time later, would you wanna.." You looked at him expectantly, tilting your head. "...attend a concert of mine? I got back with the band. Probably gon' leave them next week though, so I want you to come see us before I do."
"Oh, I'd love to!" Perfect. It seems like his plan was working. "Are Gwen and Pav gonna come?" Hobie shook his head. "No, uh, I was thinking it could be me n' you..or they could come to the concert if they want, but.."
For the first time, your hand brushed against his.
"We could get some chips together after. Just me and you."
Your eyes were locked with his and he didn't know how much more he could take before he would grab and kiss you. Your fingers were on top of one another, he didn't move them and neither did you.
"Like..a date?"
"Heh, if that's what you wanna call it."
That's what he wanted you to call it. So badly actually.
You turned from him, and pulled your hand away. Hobie's heart sank. He's done it, hasn't he. Ruined it. Like he always knew he would.
"I'd love to."
The words came at him like a missle. He raised his brows, and smiled. He was trying to contain his excitement, he didn't want to seem too much, even though he has spent nights imagining how this would play out.
"You..you're serious, eh?"
"Yes, Hobie. I'd love to get chips with you."
"Tis a date then?"
You laughed, putting your hand beside his again, leaning onto him. "If that's what you wanna call it."
His fingers locked in with yours, then he smiled.
"It is."
#across the spiderverse#atsv pavitr#gabriella o’hara#gwen stacy#hobie brown#into the spider verse#lyla spiderverse#marvel#miguel o'hara#miguel spiderverse#astv hobie#hobie x y/n#hobie fluff#i love hobie brown#spiderman across the verse#spider man: across the spider verse#atsv miguel#miles morales#the prowler#peter parker#mary jane parker#spiderverse pavitr#spider gwen#i wrote some words#spider noir#peni parker#peter porker
85 notes
·
View notes
Text
Auxious can't help but kneel over Wyll's peaceful sleeping form. He's trembling, trying not to let his roiling stomach turn his mind over too.
He's sat there at the campsite, legs folded under him for too long. The butler had been forced to leave by his hand, but he hasn't made a move since. Wyll and him lie by the campfire, their turn to watch their surroundings while the others got some better rest in their tents. His wings are low and folded tight, as opposed to when they flutter about when he's more relaxed.
Wyll would know that.
He keeps warring in his mind, the dark, ugly urge that's haunted him since the nautoloid saying do it, stick your teeth and claws right into his guts and feed on the sweet blood of your lover. There is no greater kindness, no greater weakness, no greater devotion.
But he's fought for this. He's fought so hard to not kill anyone who didn't deserve it. He had been a soldier of Avernus, for Asmodeus' sake. He helped keep the demon army at bay, and he didn't attract the attention of monster hunters. Until he attracted the attention of one monster hunter. He's been a willing slave to the war since as far back as he can remember, taking up the holy mantle of one of Asmodeus' most effective monks, up until the black chunk he hits when he tries to think about his recent history.
He extends a weak, shaking hand to brush Wyll's shoulder. He fights his twitching fingers, forcing them not to close around Wy'lls throat. It doesn't make it, faltering, then falling less than halfway to it's destination.
But Wyll, oh lovely, sweet, perceptive Wyll even in his sleep, rolls onto his side to face Auxious, eyes blinking open wearily.
"I love having you close, but I'm– Aux? Are you alright?"
His head is spinning. It shouldn't be possible for a cambion to be cold enough to get goosebumps, but he feels the nervous tingling just underneath his skin anyway.
Wyll frowns, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. "I'm awake. What's wrong?"
The carmine-skinned man can't answer. Something vile is crawling up through his vocal chords and he can't trust that if he opens his mouth it will be his voice coming out of it. He swallows hard, and it's painful, like physically forcing something inside of him into very temporary dormancy.
"Wyll," he manages to choke out. It's a near impossibility anyone would be close enough to a devil in their lifetime to see one cry. Even rarer, for a soldier.
The devil hunter sits up faster, more alert, concern colouring his features. The hand he puts against Auxious' cheek in soft reassurance felt fire hot. He's never been burned, but this might be the closest he'll ever come. Despite the awful, static tingling where Wyll's hand meets his face, he pushes past it and leans into the touch, pulling in as much comfort from it as he can.
"Later," Auxious forces his voice to be strong, but he's pretty sure Wyll can hear right through it. He's never been able to lie to Wyll. "Right now, I have to protect you."
He sits up full, warm hand falling away and Auxious wishes he would leave it. But the thing inside him wants to snap, and bite, and claw, and Auxious would rather Wyll not touch him at all right now than risk getting a limb torn off.
The cambion casts his eyes to the ground in fraught worry. "Tonight, madness will take over my body against my will. I fear I shall try to kill you." He can't help the lump in his throat at the very thought of harming his boyfriend, but the dark think inside purrs with satisfaction.
"You..." Wyll processes.
This is it. Whatever this thing is in me will finally be my undoing. At the hands of my lover, no less. Another devil to simply fall victim to the blade of frontiers in the end.
The other man sighs, nodding. "Alright. You should have told me sooner–" he shoots a disappointed look at the red skinned man, who shirks back unconsciously. "However," he sighs, "we'll just have to figure it out from here. There's yet to be a storm we couldn't weather." Wyll's expression meltd like butter, meeting the eyes of the cambion, poorly suppressing a savagery that didn't belong to him.
"Please," Auxious begs, "you know how to take care of a devil. I would not burden the others with a task like this, when I could easily escape and kill them. You..." he casts his gaze to the floor, not willing to meet Wyll's eyes. "I trust you to use your knowledge about devils, if necessary."
"But–"
"No," Auxious cuts him off. "Get Karlach's help if you must. I can't risk hurting anyone, but you two have slain more powerful devils than a mere cambion." He gives a trembling, watery smile, trying to reassure the half-human-half-devil. "I trust you two to make sure no damage will be done."
Suddenly, the larger man keels over, black blood and yellow bile piling on the floor, and he would have face planted in it had Wyll not caught his unconscious body before it hit the ground.
When he wakes, his wrists and ankles are bound with thick rope. He can feel the magic coming off it, but it's like he's looking through glass in his own body. His vision felt like a porthole.
"Hey! Hey, stay with me!" Wyll's voice sounds far away, murky and untraceable. Auxious reaches out with all the strength he can manage. He can't let Wyll alone.
A deep, multitonic growling voice rips from his own vocal chords, "I will scoop out those watchful eyes and toss them to the dogs, cur."
No, no nonono. He can't let it take him. He won't be the one to wake up standing over his lover's broken body. He can only hope the bonds are strong enough.
"Rise up!" Wyll challenges, like a command, like a promise, "rise up and meet it's gaze. Show it no fear, and grant it no mercy. This demon is no different from the other."
A wretched, painful cry tears itself from Auxious' throat as he vies for control. His flame orange eyes are wet with the effort of keeping a lockdown on his body.
The thing that possessed him kept on "Your blood will clot like liquid rubies," it growls, howls, out in overwhelming rage, "and I shall feast happily on your remains." Auxious had no chance of hoping it was merely a threat, as it felt all of the demon's sincerity in his threat to the devil hunter.
"Shit, this isn't good." Wyll mumbles to himself. "Whatever fiend's got a hold of you," he directs to Auxious this time, "it's made a battlefield of your mind." The bindings dig painfully with every flailing escape attempt the demon makes. It howls awfully, ringing in their ears like a warning siren. It fades to a more humanoid scream, Auxious seeing the moonlight from outside the porthole once again. He doesn't have the strength to call out to Wyll, instead sending him pleading eyes, begging him for help, or to end this, whichever would stop it first.
He could tell Wyll wanted to reach out, to hold him and comfort him, but he couldn't risk letting himself bite off an extremity of his lovely boyfriend. But Wyll saw the signal anyway, that clever, perceptive man.
"Gather your strength. That's it, you can do it." He gathered determination in his tone, "slaughter the beast that stalks you!"
He sounded like a commanding officer giving an order, and Auxious willingly steps back into the role of obedient soldier. Following a command is a comfortable place, somewhere familiar and secure. He knows any order Wyll gave him would be for his own good.
The night continued to roll onwards, sick and sweating, full of whimpers and reassurances, growls and commands to fight. But when the sun started to peak over the horizon, there was no blood spilled that night. Bhaal would have to take a rain check.
#durgewyll#wyll ravengard#bg3 tav#wyll x tav#dark urge#bg3#baldurs gate 3#fanfic#fanfiction#writeblr#crying i love half-devil4half-devil
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
totally turned on
eddie munson x reader
summary: eddie and you run into jason carver, who is as per usual, an ass.
a/n: set a year after eddie graduated in '86. reader graduated previous year.
Friday night was as lame as any night in Hawkins’s; nothing to do but cruise the lousy downtown and find an empty lot to drink beers and listen to music but first on the list of uneventful plans was to get food. Eddie Munson drove his van to Benny’s, which was now under new ownership – same menu and décor though. He pulled into the parking lot and turned off the ignition, looking at you with a dazed smile.
“Maybe I should drive after getting food,” you teased, and he smirked, tossing the keys your way.
“Whatever you want, babes – I’m starvin’.”
He got out and you followed, waiting for him to walk around the hood to you; Eddie grabbed your hand and lead you to the small diner, the two of you entering with the smell of fries hitting your noses. Your stomach growled and the two of you stepped up to the counter, Eddie’s knuckles tapped the counter and a head popped out of the back kitchen window.
“Give me a sec!”
“No problem, man,” your boyfriend urged, turning his attention to you; he pulled you by the loop of your belt and pleaded for a little kiss. The two of you laughing, not noticing the stares coming from a table near the back corner of the diner. Eddie stole two kisses before the person behind the counter arrived, taking your order – two burgers, two fries, and two cokes with lots of ice.
“It’s going to be about five minutes,” he explained, handing over change to Eddie – who suggested the two of you go outside for a smoke. Outside, the weather was cooler and the two of you huddled near the van; Eddie took a cigarette from his pack and lit it, handing it off to you with a smile.
“What do you say we head over to Lover’s Lake? Eat our food, drink some beers…” his tone hinted at more and you laughed, grabbing him by the collar of his leather jacket; his body jerked forward and crashed into yours.
“I’d like that very much…” you whispered to him, lips teasing against his; Eddie groaned impatiently but a kiss never came. Instead, a loud and annoyed grunt echoed outside the diner and the two of you turned to see Jason Carver and his football buddies lingering near the entrance. “Ignore them,” you warned Eddie, kissing him on the cheek. “Go see if the food is ready.”
Eddie hesitated at the thought of leaving you alone with Jason and his idiots nearby, but the expression you gave him left no room for arguing, so he kissed you and jogged into the diner. You leaned against the van and watched as the other boys got into the car, but Jason just smiled at you, leaning against the open driver’s door. Your eyes watched, waiting for him to say something and when he did, you smiled.
“You always seemed like a nice girl,” he explained, shrugging lightly. “Why are you hanging around Eddie the Freak?”
“Why are you still wearing a lettermen jacket from a year ago? It’s kind of desperate…”
Jason’s face dropped and he shut the driver’s door, stuttering over to you – shoulders squared up. Laughing, you pushed off the van and met him halfway, the two of you inches from each other’s face. His nice guy façade faded as the silent seconds passed and when you asked him how Chrissy was – the last you heard she had broken off the engagement, his eyes went vile.
“I was just trying to be nice,” he bit back, eyes drawing up and down your body. “We’ve known each other since kindergarten, sad to see you turn into Munson’s little slut.”
His words brought red to your vision, and nothing could stop the force of your fist hitting Jason’s nose, blood spurting down his perfect face, onto his jacket. He cursed and stumbled back, hands covering his nose as he looked over at you.
“Keep your nose out of my business, Jason,” you warned him calmly, giving your fighting hand a shake. It ached a bit just as Eddie walked out of Benny’s with the food– his eyes widening in madness. It took all but two seconds for him to get in-between Jason and you; his chest pressed against the former jock.
“What the actual fuck is going on,” he spat out, hand pushing Jason toward his car. “Get the fuck out of here! Go!”
Jason glared at you, then Eddie before departing to his car; the two of you watched as the car backed out and drove off. Eddie slowly and dramatically turned to face you and laughed. “Did you just defend my honor?”
“Don’t be narcissistic, I was defending my own.”
“…even hotter,” he contested, walking you over to the front of the van. He placed the takeout order on the hood and gently took your hand, giving it a once over. His fingers brushed your knuckles and when you winced, he brought your hand to his lips and laid several kisses onto the bruising skin. You smiled and he looked up, eyes glued to you as he kissed your hand some more.
“I feel better now, but I don’t want to drive” you mused, thanking him when he released your hand. He agreed and when you handed over the keys, he asked what Jason had said. “He called me your little slut.”
Eddie’s face turned hard, and he looked over to where Jason’s car had been. “That motherfucker…”
“Who cares, Eds, he’s just a loser – pissed that Chrissy opened her eyes and realized she could do better. He just wants everyone to be just as miserable as him – I mean, the jackass still wears that jacket even though you all graduated last year.”
Your boyfriend laughed but apologized for leaving you alone – he opened the passenger door for you and helped you get in, even though your other limbs were working perfectly fine. He helped you buckle up and kissed you firmly on the lips, hands on your face as he murmured, he loved you.
“I love you too, dork.”
Eddie grinned and quickly grabbed the food and drinks, placing them down on the car floor next to your feet. He kissed your knee before closing the passenger door and walking around to the driver’s side; he got in and placed the key into the ignition. “Just so you know…”
You glanced over at him. “Yeah?”
Eddie’s face went soft, eyes dazed and loving, but his smile was all mischievous as he turned the key – the van drumming to a start. “I am totally turned on right now.”
190 notes
·
View notes
Text
ordo an chao - "from chaos, comes order"
Following the death of the Star Plasma Vessel and the parade she is graced, Geto solidifies a truth: he is more curse than himself.
They're clapping
link to ao3 attached. can also read below the cut
-.--.-
Clean. Tedious.
He flexes his fingers to rid of the creases in his hands, flattening burrows and killing all that decides to live in it. Whether that be nestled anxiety that squirms in the lines of his hands, or the spill of blood running off in loud droplets, he stretches until the skin turns white.
Suguru hates his hands, stares at his palms in silent fury. They don't deserve the words for him to ever say it out loud, keeps it locked, twists his voice and swallows it so it never finds ears to cling to.
Those damn fingers, tickling with an insurmountable urge to clench together. Uncomfortably dull yet lit ablaze with bare wires on his fingertips. They fall stiff, still, and the current worsens. His fingers edge to shy away into a fist but falter when his eyes grow sharper.
His scowl deepens.
Those damn fingers, long and slender. The skin of his palms is beaten a little rough and calloused but still looks soft and supple under the light. The same gold that stretches long into the corridor, kissing the panels of the door on the other side, as if prompting him.
This way. Come this way. You know what you’ll find this way.
A hearty laugh resounds behind the door; it belongs to his best friend.
He feels a pinprick of a pulse passing through, flushing patchy pinks under his skin, spiraling between the ridges of his fingerprints. It tracks a buzz, diverges into its arteries, and replenishes it anew as if giving Suguru something new to hate. He lets his mind think of the blood. Blood that nourishes, cleans and provides. Blood that feeds to each knuckle, blood driven in the thrill of the fight.
Spilt and lost. Blood that gave and gave, all whilst his hands took, took, took.
He hates it.
Vile things. What bones and flesh dangles off his wrists were not worthy of this much attention. His forefinger twitches as he lines it, imagining how easy it is to bite a chunk at the joints and spit it out in degradation. Though, he can’t help but retch at the taste, that skin tainted with the residue of exorcised curses, their distorted wails stained into patterns in the shape of scars. The taste. The taste.
Exorcise. Absorb. The taste.
He smacks his tongue as if he found bits and pieces of them between his teeth. Bile kicks the back of his throat.
Clean. Clean. Tediously so.
His shoes look fresh out the box. Even as he sits, clothes drape flawlessly. Not a crinkle on his shirt.
But his hands…
Lost in blackened goo. A thick odour. He knows his blood is no longer red but something made by the accumulation of this feeling. Crude. Wet in a way that never dries. A ticking that never stops. Dirty. Not Clean.
They're clapping.
Suguru kicks his head back. The air he draws in is too thick. Everything is wrong.
Exorcise. Absorb. It’s why he finds his body scrubbed red when washing up. It’s why he feels the overwhelming desire to scratch at his skin until it peels clean off.
Dirty. It’s tedious.
-.—.-
"How far do reckon he's willing to go?"
Shoko leans her head inches from Suguru's shoulder, not quite finding leverage but enough to resurface a little warmth around him. He catches the way her brown locks ghost in his peripherals, she's close enough to taint her scent with his own and understands this is her version of connection. Her lips purse and pulls to take a long drag of her cigarette.
Shoko's spoken of quitting, though Suguru steals the way her fingers warp around the paper, tapping the ash absentmindedly for the wind to wash away her sins. To ignore the wrong. The straining in her breath as if to savour the relief a little longer before she expels it in farewell - maybe she held onto something beyond the taste of tobacco.
She feeds the itch that sinks its teeth in flesh, numbs it so the puncture wounds don't sting as much. Sugu invites a little of that smoke residue into his lungs, along with a hollow irony when he realises: he desires the same.
To ignore the wrong. Ignore how everything feels lacklustre and out of sync. His hands.
Not Clean.
He takes a moment to register Shoko's question, tosses it between the flicker of his eyes then manages an extended one when tracking up his back whilst he yaps away. Shirt a size too big, whiter to his pale skin in a way that made him look a little tanned, and the way his neck cranes to solo the sky with his attention.
Completely oblivious. Or so he tends to be whenever the three are together. Suguru can't fathom how someone so gifted could be so damn careless. Clueless. Childish.
All six eyes, but can he feel a darker pair rest on the back of his neck? Does Gojo know of the little hairs below his taper fade or has Geto been graced with the only one to witness it?
"Far enough." Sugu's voice tethers a little lighter than usual, or maybe he can't help himself when it's them three. As bitter as his thoughts become, not has it once sharpened his tongue; he knows that even if he speaks evil, the voice to carry it would one made of love.
Satoru gestures to something grand with one arm, the other deep in loungewear trousers. Whatever scheme he proposes fall on lost ears and it doesn't take long until he turns to realise he has no audience - not one favouring him anyhow. It translates on his face as a pout, defeated shoulders making his silhouette almost comical.
"Fine," Gojo spits out, haloed with white wisps akin to dove feathers on his head, his hair sharpening as if a show of his exaggerated frustration. Thick glasses edge the top of his nose, black lenses drawing perfect circles on snow skin, and he tilts his head back again, every ridge of flesh and bone traceable on his neck. The sky seems to be a better part of the conversation with him than the two shrouded in cigarette smoke.
"But when I master it, though I'm the strongest already, I'll make sure it never changes."
Yep. Feathered white hair and eyes that muted diamonds as beneath him, Suguru knows Satoru will stop at nothing. Gojo will turn into whatever drives his fist forwards.
Geto can't even look at his own hands.
-.--.-
Todd's Syndrome is a neurological condition that stretches and warps perception to make objects and spaces seem unrealistically large or small. Akin to holding out a phone in one's hand and counting the miles between the arm and screen, or tasting the expanse of the ceiling, ever-growing, as it shrinks the eyes that perceive it; a.k.a, Alice in Wonderland Syndrome.
Suguru lifts his eyes higher and higher, tracing a seemingly unending wall of his bedroom. His desk looks too big, too close to his bed. The little trinkets that house in the corner of it are drained of colour except one; Sugu takes note of how a bright blue keychain dangles off the edge like a hypnotics tick, blinding when it hits the moonlight just right and sharp enough to stimulate an edge in his brain. It reminds him of a certain blue-eyed sorcerer who won it for him at an arcade. It looks so small now.
He sinks in the mattress where it engraves the shape of him, finds a solace when he feels the cushioning hug him when no one else will. It feels familiar, to breathe in the air he breaths out.
But Suguru finds the longer he stills, the faster the world moves to catch up for his monotonous tight-lips and dropping eyelids.
The cold punctures under the covers, reminds him that the blood in his body lacks warmth and will and a moment's hope was all that was destined to him by the universe. The blankets he nestles in lack weight and fail to ground him, the air is too thick. He feels like he's floating in the four walls, his limbs scrawling to gain purchase on anything within the limit of the moonlight because Sugu wants anything but to lose a hand into the darkness. Dirty. Dirty.
The ceiling grows closer and closer.
Some seeming power keeps him there and shrinks the wall to taunt him of an impending doom. His eyes widen at the roof above, his legs flail and push for leverage but fall slack in failure. The ground seems to shake, or rather he shakes in the air, tremored in fear.
His heart races.
He silently pleads for the door to knock
He scrambles and twists but he is the chosen victim of his moral qualms.
Suguru tightly shuts his eyes to wade away the distortion of his bedroom and the nausea that comes with. In his mind, a knock resounds, two voices muffled outside the door. In his mind, he's back on his bed cross-legged whilst his best friends accompany the floor with attempts of feeding him into a sugary coma. In his mind, Suguru leans his head on his palm and can't help but smile at those solid shades on Satoru's silly little face, can't help knock his shoulder into Shoko's to light him a quick drag.
In his mind, a dandelion peeks his head by the door and smiles sharply.
"Suguru, you've got us," the dandelion smirks, "we're not letting you go that easily."
The wind spins the keychain and its bold colour out of sight.
Suguru Geto's door never knocks.
-.--.-
The feeling unravels and tightens in new ways, until Suguru feels his hands too taunt into a fist to open them. It grips his fingers together, clenches his jaw for him, sharpens the skin around his eyes and paints the sky and stars an ugly colour. That pit never leaves, every step shakes as if the ground below him doesn't, like his foot would fall through and wedge deep into the Earth and claim his body as its own.
But it unravels. And tightens in a way where his lips twist upwards, because at least he wouldn't feel the burden of his own flesh and bone anymore. Suguru realises he could only open his palms if to dig faster into the soil and carve his own way into his demise.
Take everything. Take my hands, my fingerprints. Take everything that I am.
And it unravels. And tightens.
It takes no genius to point at what the feeling aims to do, how it loosens and fits better around him, how his sorcerer's energy bandages the body he lashes with his own mind so that he would never be reminded he had one.
Now when he eyes his hands, he sees a deep-blue coat, a glove. No flesh. No matter.
Cursed energy as second skin. Tedious.
No one asks him. And no one sees how dirty he is.
Geto smiles when he speaks to his friends, omits the paired warmth with genuine heart because they are not him. He seeks for cursed energy alike, the sole saviour from his own hands, and grants it the love of all kinds. How could he not? How could he not thank the clothes it dressed him in when he showers so he doesn't spot his own skin?
They clap so loud. Riko laughs innocently.
They clap their hands, enunciating it clearly. Their message. They clap. Dirty. Dirty.
Water falls between the crevices of his back like beaded jewelry, the shampoo half-sodded whilst he leans against the shower wall. Suguru does not blink; the water should clean his eyes too.
Dirty. They clap their hands.
Geto chooses to not see his.
That young girl smiles. That young girl sleeps in her own blood. She smiles and takes the last look of pretty human skin with her. That young girl speaks of a wondrous future. Her heart is free. Her body slumps over.
Water meanders to the tip of his nose, teeters at the peak, teases his resolve. Gravity pulls it into the drain. Geto feels that same pull on his knees... though he's frozen.
They're clapping. The shower echoes similarly and he's taken back to their faces.
Hand-to-hand. Loud glee. A 'hurrah' those hands yell in unison. The Star Religious Group. They clap with open pride. Dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty!
Vile. Filthy hands are those belonging to humans, such who celebrate the growing pool of blood at his feet. Vile hands; the non-sorcerers. Suguru saw his own as human back when his steps were lighter, when he let his heart swell for his best friend. Human as can be: were all sorcerers and non-sorcerers not cut from the same cloth?
He's mistaken. Geto has fists coaxed in flames, a beacon, lit for those he wishes to bring forth into his circle. Cursed energy to recognize each other, because they were special, unique, better. Not simple humans.
Jujutsu Sorcerers, stronger, faster, more than the average person.
That girl, destined as the Star Plasma Vessel, was the last non-sorcerer to smile at him. All those that follow after are wretched crinkles of skin, misshapen teeth, and stripped of Geto's sense of acknowledgement.
They're dirty. Reduced to their ancestors. For if they wanted to make a fool's choice and act like animals, they would be as such: monkeys.
Dirty, dirty monkeys.
#jjk fics#jjk fic#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen fic#geto fic#geto suguru#suguru geto#jjk suguru#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#let's write
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mundane like a box of chocolates
(Modern) Aegon II Targaryen x Reader x Aemond (maybe)
Summary: Aegon, Aemond and reader are on a private plane, reader has always felt something for Aegon, he seems to show some indication back, but reader has been hurt before so she doubts whatever hints he drops. Reader has been friends with the Targaryen fam, but there’s around a 6-8 year age gap.
Rating: T
Warnings: angst, fluff, sort of pointless? non-satisfying end, mostly feels.
Word count: 2k
Part 2?
I had really underestimated my sleeplessness, because the moment we were in the air, I was yawning and fighting the urge to close my eyes. I didn’t really realise how or when but I found my large chair full leant back as I threw away my shirt, my sunglasses and heels, wrapped myself into a big white comforter, and I certainly didn’t realise when I lost myself to the abyss of sleep.
Aegon Targaryen was beautiful. His near-white hair, his lilac eyes, his pale skin adorned in gold. He would always have a sharp contrast to him with his dark, high neck clothes. He was care-free, he was drunk almost all the time, and he slept around. But he was smart, alcohol seemed to make him funnier, and oh how I knew each girl he slept with probably had the best experience of her life. He was lean, but he had strong arms, a strong chest, and he was a man of dreams. I hadn’t realised just when I had begun looking at him, nay, admiring him, in a sexual and romantic sense. He was fun growing up, definitely not a role model, but the best person to show you a good time, a non-sexual good time for me. But when I was around fifteen-sixteen, when I saw him again for the first time in months, it was indescribable. He seemed so perfect.
He felt so perfect. His hands were on my exposed thighs, cold rings sending shivers down my spine, his mouth over mine, his chest flush against mine now that I sat on the large ebony table. The slit in my dark dress allowed me to wrap my legs around him, pull him as close to me as possible. He was everywhere, and all I could do was revel in the feeling, in him. My dress slipped, his mouth went to my neck, my fingers found them in his soft hair, my head spinning as goosebumps rose all over my skin. I knew nothing at that moment, only him. Not a sound in the room, not a single being, I could barely register the room, much less the world outside. He was all I knew then, as his arms went to my waist, pulling me even closer. Not a single piece of clothing was off, but he felt better than any sex I had ever had. He was a dream come true.
And suddenly it wasn’t just him, a harsh sound came from the distance, the empty room looked unknown, his warmth slipped from me as my eyes shot open, making direct contact with lilac ones that sat in front of me in a large leather seat similar to mine, his chin resting on his hand, legs nonchalantly crossed as he simply gazed at my now awake form. “Everything all right there?” he spoke, a blush creeping onto me as I took in the surroundings of the plane, the sheen of sweat all over me, my heavy breaths, a more wet feeling between my thighs. “Yeah, why?” I cleared my throat, looking away from him, his eyes boring into mine, it was like he knew. “You were whining in your sleep, incomprehensible words over and over again,” he stated. “What was I saying?” I asked, dread filling me, but he only made an upside down smile, “I wouldn't know, I wasn’t in your dream,” he said, leaning forward slightly, he knew. I sat up, looking around, Aemond was on the opposite side, immersed in his book. If I had said something vile, he would’ve reacted. He had to. But he only looked at me as I carefully got up, pulling on the shirt and gingerly walking to the bathroom, completely aware of Aegon’s unmoving gaze from mine.
I tried my best to collect myself in the bathroom, wiping away any remnants of my dreams, not a dream come true if it's still in the dream, right? After five minutes of deep breathing and staring at my own reflection, trying to forget the raunchy dream, I went back to my seat. Aemond was still immersed in his book, and Aegon now gazed out of the window, his scotch glass in his hand, the gold glinting on his fingers. I simply sat down in my seat. “How long till we land?” I asked. “Three hours, at most,” Aemond said, not shifting his gaze from the book in his hands. My paranoia got the best of me and I wondered if I had said something, something so depraved that now he couldn’t meet my eyes, or even look at me. I began to feel a lump in the back of my throat. I trusted them enough to know that if I did say something, it wouldn’t leave this plane, but I would hate myself forever if I had ruined my relationship with either of them because of a stupid wet dream my hungover self decided to have out loud.
But my paranoia crumbled when Aegon turned his gaze back to me. “Come here love, I would like to show you something,” he said, a slight smile on his face. I walked to him, sitting next to him, following his gaze out of the window next to him. It was mesmerising. The sun shone golden, washing all the clouds in a shower of gold, the most beautiful view one could ask for. Pink and orange hues danced in the sky, it was a view so captivating I forgot everything for a moment, completely lost in nature, how simple bending of some components of sunlight could create something so beautiful, so extraordinarily fascinating. “Stunning,” Aegon whispered, pulling my lost self back into his eyes, but he wasn’t looking at the sky. “So simple, yet so perfect,” he said, his eyes never once leaving mine. I wanted to tell him to be careful, to look at what he is talking about lest he may send some mixed signals that would most definitely have a drastic effect on my mentality. “Nature isn’t simple,” I said, feeling like I was breaking the unspoken connection Aegon had created between the two of us, so unspoken that I felt even Aemond, the ever watchful and observant man, had no idea. “No she is not. But I like to say it, watching her turn in annoyance because she knows just how complex she is, she doesn’t like it when I simplify her, and I enjoy getting a rise out of her,” he said, eyeing me, as if he was being genuine. Maybe he was. Aegon had been doing this for as long as we’d known each other. Every now and then, I’d tell him a new theory I learned, either in real life, sometimes on facetime, and he would ask me to explain what I learned, and when I did, he’d repeat it in the most simplistic manner possible, almost as if the wondrous theory was nothing more than a mundane box of chocolates, and he’d revel in my complete confusion and annoyance. “Nature’s a she then?” I asked, determined to make him mention the term even once. “All good things are women,” he said, chuckling as he finally sat back, I snorted. The tension dissolved, and I was grateful he decided that passing our discussion off as a joke was the best path to take. And soon after, we ended up talking like we normally did. I refrained from telling him any new theories or talking about boys, I feared he’d sense I wanted none of them half as much as I did him. We stuck to discussions on fashion and his immaculate knowledge on alcohol.
“Aemond, are you alright,” I asked. Aegon and I had been hysterically laughing at a perverse joke he made, when Aemond shut his book with a force so intense it was like a metal box being dropped on the ground from ten feet in the air. He didn’t say anything. “He gets moody sometimes,” chimed Aegon, but I wasn’t satisfied. I left his side to go to Aemonds. He seemed angry, but he gained his composure quickly, “A crummy ending to a good story,” he said, aloof as he gestured to the book. “Oh,” I said. I knew it was something else, but I knew it was better not to push Aemond. “I’m sure you can read a better one, or just tear out the last page. Eliminate the problem,” I said, a smile growing on me as I finished my sentence. “I would, but it would cost me dearly,” he said, not even sparing me a glance, it seemed he didn’t want my company. So I wordlessly withdrew. I knew I had no right to, but it felt bad to be dismissed like that. I went back to Aegon, who knew how it felt to be on the receiving end of his brother’s apathetic mask, behind which only the lord knew what lay. “He’ll feel better after a drink, darling, don’t fret,” Aegon said, taking my arm as he drew comforting circles on it. It was funny to me, Aegon was so affectionate, but never to Aemond, and he would remain uncaring when his brother was clearly unhappy. Did Aegon really think I was in more need of comfort than Aemond? This was when I’d fear getting too close to him. Was he like this with all his loved ones? Would it be this way for me if I became too close to him? He only looked at me as I was deep in thought. I wanted to ask him what he was looking at, all this time, he’s been looking at me, and it was starting to piss me off. Not because I mind, but because I had no idea of the intentions that lay behind them. Did he really think of me the way I thought of him? Was he just fucking with me? Or could it be the worst, he wanted a one night stand. All this build up just so he could see how I was in bed and then be done with it? I had been hurt before in the same way, and I couldn’t help it. It had destroyed me, but this would break me. For not only would I be betrayed, I would lose the relationship I had with him, and I was very close with him. That was a friend, this was more, a friend, a source of comfort, a symbol of familiarity, I identified the family with Aegon, I didn’t want to accept it but I really did love him. I knew of my obsessive crushes, it had always felt like love, but it was an obsession. This, how I felt for him, this is love. I had loved him before I knew what love was, before I would start obsessing over certain men who gave me just enough attention and affection, which was why I was sure it was love. It was stupid of me to correlate everything I thought of in his presence to him, but I really didn’t know how else to feel.
“When will we reach?” I asked, breaking my train of thought and pulling my hand out of his, turning away to face the front. I did not wish for the comfort of the man who was the cause of my mental turmoil, at least not now. “Mustn't be more than thirty minutes, or an hour at most” he said, an almost undetectable tone of disappointment in his voice. No one spoke after that. I decided to bring my knees to my chest and turn to look at the sky again, not looking at the man who seemed to be the one my eyes wanted to see. He would turn to me every now and then, but would not interrupt my peace. Did I push him away, his comfort? Or did I save myself from a certain type of heartbreak? Either way, it hurt enough to keep me silent.
#aegon targaryen x reader#moder au#modern aegon x reader#aegon angst#aegon ii fanfic#aegon x reader x aemond#fluff#house of the dragon#aegon the elder#aegon the uncrowned#aegon the second#aegon ii x reader#aegon ii x y/n#aegon x reader#aegon ii targaryen
75 notes
·
View notes
Text
@wishlist022
Here's that Carmen Sandiego angst you asked for!
•••
Shadowsan had been looking for Carmen for nearly two months. Of course, since she'd struck it out on her own, it wasn't like he'd been seeing her much. Even so, he couldn't help but worry. He was constantly scrolling the news and checking in with Zach and Ivy over at ACME, hoping every day for word of another heist, another evil thief foiled by the great Crimson Ghost. As long as he had some kind of sign of life, that was enough for him. It was almost enough to make him crack a smile. He, Shadowsan, one of the greatest VILE operatives to ever hit the field, was here fussing over this girl like she was his daughter. Ridiculous.
Of course, he couldn't even think of smiling now. Once one month had gone by without any sort of news, he officially started to panic. It wasn't like Carmen, and it really began to make him curse not keeping some kind of direct contact with her. A million different horrible scenarios played through his head as he walked down a dusty side road in Buenos Aries: Carmen trapped somewhere it the wilderness, Carmen captured by Interpol, or worse, by an escaped VILE operative, Carmen dead and unidentified in a mourge somewhere in the world, her identity impossible to determine. He shook his head, willing away those pictures.
"No, it can't be," he thought. "She's alive. Somewhere. She has to be."
He continued his march towards the next town over. He had no idea where Carmen could be, but he figured he'd start here. This was where she came from after all; maybe she'd just hunkered down in her old home. He gazed at the landscape as he walked, remembering the mission that brought Carmen to him in the first place. Up until then, he'd never questioned his place in the organization, but having to see the delight at that little girl's face everyday for years, unaware of the circumstances that brought her to that accursed island. He regretted it everyday, but that was the past. Now is what mattered, and he refused to let his guilt crush him any longer.
After what felt like forever, he finally arrived at the next town on his map. It looked about the same as the past four: about 2 dozen buildings and a handful of people milling about in the late afternoon. He began asking everybody he could stop, mentioning Camen's name and showing her picture in a routine that was entirely habit at this point. In fact, he was so caught up in the rhythm that it took him a couple seconds to process when a woman told him she recognized the girl.
"Wait, sorry?" Shadowsan asked, thrown off.
"Yes, I've seen her," the woman repeated. "My husband found her off the side of the road just a week ago, all tore up. Why? Is she in trouble?"
Shadowsan's world fell out from beneath him. This was it, the worst case scenario was now starring him dead in the face.
"She... she's my daughter."
A few minutes later, he was standing in one of the small brick homes, looking down at an unconscious Carmen. He had to fight the urge to fall to his knees, but he felt incable of even holding up his own weight. The woman and her family were standing a few feet behind him, whispering in quiet Portuguese. Shadowsan didn't even bother to listen.
He crouched down beside her, inspecting the damage. Her closed eyes were covered in bandages, as was most of her body. She was breathing slowly, barely a whisper of life still in her lungs. He took her still hand, to exhausted to stop the tears dripping down his face. This was his girl, the one good thing he had managed to keep throughout all his years. It couldn't be over.
"Carmen?" He was whispering as quietly as he could. "Please. I need you to say something. I need-"
He didn't have time to finish his plea before before Carmen's grip suddenly locked on his wrist. She jolted in the bed, gasping so suddenly the family all yelped and stepped back.
"Shadow... san?"
"Yes! Yes it's me I'm right here," Shadowsan said, greif ripping at his chest at the sound of Carmen's voice.
"I- I'm sorry... really I am I... it's over."
"No, of course it's not. Your going to be ok." Even as he said this though, he could feel her wanning. He was losing her. He couldn't lose her.
"Please, just listen. I don't have much time. VILE... somehow... they're back. They found me, they might know where the others are. Julia, Zack and Ivy... you... you've gotta stop them."
"No no no we'll stop them together-"
"I'm sorry." Carmen shakily laid a hand on his arm. She smiled as best she could. "Thank you. For everything..."
She fell limp. Her breathing slowed to stop. It was a few moments before he stood. His eyes never left her body. VILE was back. Carmen was gone. Their was no one left to stand in their way, no one left who could truly take them down.
Except for one person.
Shadowsan left that house, Carmen's body in tow. He buried her off the side of the road, hoping she finally found rest in her home soil. But he wouldn't rest. Staring down at the freshly disturbed soil, he swore an oath. That he would hunt and burn and kill and every last trace of that organization was gone. He would make it painful, and he would make them regret.
Now that she was gone, what else more could he do.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Give up my way and lose myself | March 4, 2034.
Wolfsbane weakened him, the taste bitter and vile, even diluted. It burned, his stomach churning, even after days of preparation. As if he started early, this would all hurt less, but that was a thought for a fool's comfort.
The chains dragged across the ground as he moved. The cellar was damp and dark, not the woods where he'd have preferred to take this. However, safety was of utmost importance tonight. Even that comfort was missing from his first turn. He knew he had to find a state of calm, to accept it, but he paced anxiously instead. "When I say go, I need you to go," he reminded her, "stay in the compound, you'll be safe."
This was between him and his father. A battle still raging long after the embers of the home they shared were dimmed to dormant ash. The last of his father's power over him was realized: they were the same monster. They would break the same, twist and contort the same, scream the same. Look at me and trust me when I tell you, that you are not the same. The last pain his father would cause...this is the last pain his father would cause.
"I know violence..." His body shifted, shoulders rolled as if to battle the tension or to ready itself. His temperature felt too high, like he was burning from inside out. Let it in, he reminded himself, let it swallow you.
His fathers' fist collided against his jaw, his chest, his arm extended in self-protection, the assault continued unrelenting.
His body held on, a living memory, the imprint on his skin. Scars told their stories, and what healed left invisible marks.
"I know violence..."
A grab of a collar, a swing...hands around his throat, squeezing until oxygen no longer flowed.
The body remembered.
"I know violence..."
Jabs from more delicate fingers, the way it radiated through him. He'd been beaten so many times, and yet, that had caused the most pain.
"I know violence..."
A sensation in his jaw, a crack perhaps, something else broken. The cycle returning to his family.
"I know pain." He gazed up, unable to see the moon from here, but he could feel her. "So come on," he breathed, begging for it to begin. To be over.
"It doesn't stop, does it?" He finally asked for confirmation he didn't need. There would be no blacking out, no escaping somewhere else, he would feel every second of it.
Without warning, his arm twisted, snapping in multiple places at once, and he screamed. Crumbling to the ground, feeling everything begin to shift inside, he braced himself with his other hand as he gagged on the feeling his organs were rearranging. "Billie--" he begged, choking out between groans of agony, "go get her...Riley, please. I--I need..." As chain scraped against the concrete, he reached for the shirt instead, the one she made sure he had, the one with her scent, collapsing with neither arm to hold him up. "I'm sorry," he mumbled as his lip trembled as violently as the pull of the moon on his body, "I'm sorry...but it--it hurts."
---
He finally became quieter again, convulsing on the ground. "My girls," he mumbled, as the closeness of Riley filled his senses in combination with the shirt he held firm in his grip. He did it all for them, the best of him. Shifting his weight across the floor, he laid his head in Riley's lap, trying to get a good breath but he couldn't fully. The breaths were short, labored, quick. The urge to fight was too strong, to not let it take him. "Is it ironic that I feel like I'm on fire? That's ironic, right? Is it funny? A little...?" He couldn't stop shaking, tears making track after track down his cheeks as he blathered away in near incoherence.
His breathing became a hyperventilation, and he could feel more coming. "No...no...no," he pleaded, jerking away from her as the bones cracked, joints popped out of sockets, an unspeakable pain all the way down his back. From somewhere visceral, the power of his own screams seemed almost raised him off the earth. "Stop! Make it stop," he cried, "it hurts, it hurts, it hurts..."
They were too far gone now, and there was no return. The time had felt like half a dozen eternities. "Go," he finally demanded, looking up to meet the eyes of his best friend. The other half of his soul. He fought to hold it back as long as he could, but he knew. His uncle was right. He knew what he had to do, and though his mother had been speaking of her ring in the moment, he heard her still: accepting this won’t mean you’re being beaten.
"It's time." With a sense of unusual calm as if they lingered briefly in the eye of the storm, he could only mouth the words, "I love you." Eyes closing, he felt the moon and in the same way he'd learned to let magic flow through him, he allowed it to take him. He let it in. His body thrown back like it was going to be folded in half, ankles twisting, wrists snapping, spine contorting and reforming, the sounds of breaking created a cacophony paired his own piercing cry as it filled the room. When his eyes reopened, they had found their shift to glowing golden.
That's how you got here, how you escaped him because you're too full of life for darkness to take you.
From deep within, he pulled from all his strength and released a final guttural cry until it transitioned into a growl, wordless and untamed. All that was Briggs Mikaelson became something else. He clamored on the chains, fighting his own captivity. The moon at its apex in the sky had at last swallowed him whole.
But he had learned something that night: he hadn't known pain at all. Nor had he known his own strength.
This could not break him.
#( thread | self-para. )#( the only thing i ever did right was be your best friend | briggs & riley. )#( i think our love can do anything | briggs & billie. )#exitium.fm001#child abuse tw#violence tw#intense suffering tw#gore tw
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
https://www.tumblr.com/kokonoiscoconut/744220936653471744/you-can-call-me-blue-for-the-time-being-bc-im?source=share
https://discord.com/invite/B65afvhg
Also mikey is a bitch. Izana is just as bad and anyone who says other is one: not based. And two: WRONG. That mf put her in the icu and the way he talk about women is so gross like
“Yeah, he’s so adamant about protecting women.” Izana said dryly. Why does he need to care about other women who were probably asking for it? It wasn’t his business. “It annoys the hell out of me. I can understand protecting my sister but what does other women have to do with me?”
Kisaki was right to call him a freak (never thought I'd be agreeing with Steve urkel)
And I was right about everyone in toman/tenjiku (I expected from them bc they are MEANCES IN CANON) but like, rindou ('swiper, no swiping!" Looking ass and ran are surprisingly nice??? Like they had enough decency to show up with flowers and everything (and the fact that they genuinely felt bad. It just gave me hope which is sad bc THE BAR IS AT THE FLOOR and yet people are praising them for it) and bajitrio getting takeout and baji gossiping. Taking the twitch of the finger meaning that she liked the joke. My heart 😭💔💔 (NVM. IM A FUCKING HYPOCRITE). And Mitsuya literally calling them out?? (HES THE ONLY GOOD ONE. I LOVE BAJI BUT MITSUUA SHOULD HAVE BEEN CROWNED NO.1 BOYFRIEND)
And hanma should shut up. That's why he has no friends BAR kisaki. Jack skeleton Looking ass.
"He didn’t want to feel this. To hear his own thoughts curse at him, call him horrible names like ‘woman beater’ and ‘heartless’. He hated that even his own head turned against him once again, triggering something so evil and vile in his heart that made him want to see someone bleed out."
WOMP WOMP
He had tried to fight it. The violent nature inside him. He tried to squash it with anything -meditating, drugs, giving into his depraved sexual urges. All that and still, one singular thing could ruin everything he had built.
GO TO THERAPY
He felt bad. She spent lonely nights by the looks of it, wishing you would wake up. He had never seen her look so tired or worn out before and he hated seeing her so stressed over something so … irrelevant.
BOY IF YOU DONT SHUT YOUR BITCH ASS UP-
Even when he was painstakingly mean to you, you tried so hard to apologize. It made it harder for him, being jealous of your ability to warm hearts faster than him. He wanted nothing more but to make you cry and hurt like him until you’re no longer kind anymore. Anything that would block out that brightness from you.
[So you bullied her, bc you hated that she was nice and you projected your dead mama on her 💀💀💀 the cope is so bad it's laughable]
Naw cause the fact that even Kisaki had something to say about Izana 😭 like, it is that BAD. The two brothers are complicit in the crimes against reader 😭
AND HE SHOULD GO TO THERAPY YES! Like why is Mikey projecting so hard n her instead of just sorting his feelings out? Like that's a grown man behaving like that.
I live for nice bajifuyu concepts. Mitsuya has my heart in his hands, because I know for a fact he won't just keep quiet while s woman is being disrespected
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yandere Hawt Saus Headcanons
Yandere Hawt Saus x Reader
Yandere Headcanons
Author’s note : Yeah, I’m gonna be that one weirdo that writes xReader for Chikn Nuggit. What r you gonna do dude, I’m too far gone.💀
You and the cast are either both human//gijinkas or animals.
Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :
Bullying // harassment • Guilt tripping • Begging • Superior mindset • Possessive+delusional behaviour • Abandonment trauma • Isolation • Threats+blackmail mention • Hawt Saus has a mental breakdown lmao
Ah yes, one of the, if not the most distinctive character from the Chikn Nuggit series. He’s known to be quite the cruel squirrel with a vile blabbermouth, having no shame whatsoever in speaking his mind completely and occasionally throwing rude commentary left and right. He doesn’t understand that his poor choice of words affects others and this has caused him to become quite the ... Disliked character in both the cast fromout viewer point and among his witnesses themselves, often showing pure hatred in his screentime appearances. But even so, there’s been one particular episode that made us look fromout a new and unexpected perspective; one that has implied that he does in fact have his reasonings behind why he behaves the way he does. This point of view has also made me believe that he’d be one of the easiest characters among the group to grow these dependent and complicated feelings torwards somebody, who unfortunately, just so happens to be you.
Right at the start of you two meeting one another, Hawt Saus has had... mixed feelings about you. At first glance at your excessive sweetness he had already made you out to be just like all the others around--being just as similar like those absolute weirdos, causing him to act just as cruel as he would torwards any other acquaintance in his circle. But instead of backing off and avoiding the red squirrel at all costs like the others would, you would instead never quit showing him your neutral and basic kindness you’d give the others. I can see him being both confused and in severe denial about it at first, not believing a speck of the gentle demeanor you had to offer. Literally nobody wanted nor tried to get along with him, it would be considered a miracle for his doing if somebody only stuck around for a day or two. You must be trying to define him as some fool, aren’t you? tricking him only to leave him in the dust right afterwards.
But there’s gonna be some point where he cannot deny these desires for tenderness any longer, not caring much anymore whenever they end up being false or not. He might come off as quite picky and judgemental in any connections he might face, behaving like he has seemingly high standards; when truthfully saying, all he genuinely wishes for would be one singular being who doesn’t leave him after a noticeable while of sticking around, after seeing how truly awful he can get at times. Or perhaps it’s even quite the opposite. After all, he did always have an imagery of being this confident and self centered animal who cannot be brought torwards insecurity no matter the costs. It’s almost close to becoming realism in his own head, creating an entire different identity in behaviour to try and deny the fact that his current biggest fear would be any other realising he is realistically just as soft as they are. The catch being that despite the urges growing rapidly in the back of his own head, he could never grow close with another without the cracks of his made up facade slowly starting to show.
When getting close with somebody, I cannot picture him as much else other than severely possessive; wanting nothing more then to be your favourite person and actively fighting those who try getting close to you whenever he’s around. Which is also something you’d rarely see again when emotionally getting to him, personal space. He’s always holding onto atleast some part of your figure, hugging you from the side like it’s his only support, giving you ramblings and gossip to no end, literally forcing himself into your comfort zone, and for anybody else who just so happens to be around those particular personal moments? Well, they’ll be the unlucky one for the day that will figure out what it’s like to have upset a trashmouth, leaving you to profusely apologise.
Talking about the others, they are also to gain a whole lot more garbage from him now that you’ve came around. He knows that you’d be one to get along with them well, realising how wonderful of an entity you truly are. Due to this, he’d actively push you away from them and when contact with you does occur, he’d easily be one to either just threaten the bunch himself or go after any potential blackmail he can get his grabby hands on. Anything to keep them on an acceptable distance between you. As Sody himself has said, he’s unpleasant; but it had unexpectedly multiplied even more so when you got into the picture-- He may has had his troubled emotions with you at first, but I assure you those got swapped around real fast after you just happened to reduce his emotional desires to such a great extent.
Though when pushing his behaviour aside and if the mutual contact is coming fromout the darling themselves, however; he might already be pushed far enough to snap, having caused in quite some embarrassing moments occuring outside the house. When doing so he feels betrayed in a way, his insecurity blinding the common sense in his mindset and throwing all logic out of the window in order to keep you with him. It’s irresponsible to act off emotions, he knows this, but he is desperate. He views you as the only one who could ever legitimately love him the way that you do, and he doesn’t plan on having limits in order to keep things that way.
There’s one you’d already remember in particular. All you did was hang out with Chikn on a weekend afternoon without telling him, all had went just fine until the two of you had surprisingly walked into him on the way, truthfully assuming it was already him looking for you in distress to begin with. There was quite the offense in his tone, wanting to know why you had been here, with nobody but that dog for that matter. After calmly explaining the meetup the two of you were having together and not seeing a big deal with it, you were ready to turn around and continue off with your day. But Hawt Saus? He went berserk- Everything honestly became rather blurry after that, but you remember him screaming at the both of you at the top of his lungs with teary eyes, catching the attention of many bystanders and publicly humiliating not only you, but himself. There even was a point where he was close to getting physical with Chikn aswell, and you were sure if it wasn’t for his size, he surely could have made some serious damage; little paws grabbing, scratching and pulling onto the fur in a blind rage, leaving the pup mortified. In the end it was you who had to literally pry him off, kindly asking the dog for cancellation with the plans from before and in the meantime dragging the squirrel off with you in order to have a very serious conversation about this.
Very much a crybaby. Despite how minor his responses might be torwards any other’s complaining about his worsened demeanour, usually just taking them with a grain of salt, your opinions and comments have a whole lot more effect on both his self confidence levels and thought processes. When scolding him about his inappropriate behaviour, clearly showing your unhappiness about his unwell intentions; he breaks. He’s absolutely had his moments like these before, but they were nothing in comparison to this breakdown. Literally crumbling to the floor and latching himself onto your feet, going as far to beg for your forgiveness in order to get those little bits of kindness back you’ve so cruelly ripped away from him. You knew there was a part of him guilt tripping you, but you couldn’t get yourself to say no to his now shattered state. And that fact alone made you question yourself if it was truly the best idea to have treated him as lovingly as you always had,
Much less having agreed to a legitimised relationship with the unstable squirrel.
#chikn nuggit#chikn nuggit x reader#hawt saus x reader#chikn nuggit hawt saus#hawt saus#yandere chikn nuggit#yandere hawt saus#yandere chikn
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
LOTUSCLAN'S BANE | Act I Scene III
First | Prev | Next
Oh, the stars have blessed him today. Eugh.
A mangy rabbit was what a vile and careless so-and-so left on the fresh-kill pile; knotted with burrs and covered in cat bites and ticks, with its eyes rolling to the back of its head, smelling of the murk and grime from the bog it must have been fished from. Forced to carry its foot in his mouth, the healer held his breath and resisted the urge to gag.
It was the best-looking meal on the fresh-kill pile in days.
Granted, for as unappealing as it was to look at, its overgrown pelt was thick enough to smell mostly fresh on the inside, with the reek of its fur masking quite a bit of it. He could tell it wasn’t infected, the bites on its flesh weren't old, and the ticks were… able to be worked around; he could tell this prey was safe to consume. As for how it could taste, well, the healer could sacrifice that concern.
The healer’s name was Grapeberry.
Grapeberry, beloved Grapeberry. The black tabby was adored by his gracious clanmates for his clever skill in finding their ailments, treating them with the correct herbs for their diagnosis, and being one of only two cats in the entire clan keeping these stubborn, reckless jerks alive.
Surely, it had to have perks to carry the entire weight of fifteen to twenty other cats who rotated in and out of his den every few hours with some thorn stuck in their paw, or with a scratch on their cheek from running too swiftly into a tree, or severe and deadly wounds from fighting over a mouse’s tail. And the best part of it all was how appreciative his clanmates were; never once refusing treatment, never forgetting to say thank you for saving their sorry pelts, and not once were there any terrible incidents where fully-grown warriors would screech and swipe at him for laying his paw on their wounds for barely a moment when it was in his job description to fix them.
Not to mention the horrid living conditions in the healers' cave--every time some pointless scuffle occurred at every edge of their borders, cats would flood into the cave, shaking out the blood from their scratches and splattering the walls with them, ripping apart their moss beds for practice with their overgrown claws, calling for his own apprentice instead of Grapeberry himself.
Living his dream.
Just before he could disappear into the vines that draped over the cave, which was located a bit out of the way from the main clearing on the side of the hill, he was stopped by a high-pitched mew calling his name.
“Grapeberry!” A stout gray molly came bounding forward. “Glad we caught ya, Asterpaw got hurt during training. Do you think you could help out?”
“Pearpaw, I said I’m fine,” Asterpaw, her angular, orange, and white compadre gently hissed, slouching and hiding behind Pearpaw like everyone was looking at them. “We don’t have to bother the healer with this.”
It could have been one of two things, knowing these two: It would either be on Pearpaw–always ready to help anyone anywhere at any time–was truly doing her reluctant friend a kind favor for asking Grapeberry for help.
Or it would be on Asterpaw–whose practical nature wouldn’t let her stop everything she was doing for something so small—like Asterpaw bumping her nose on a rock while diving into the river, which happened the day before. If Pearpaw was the one embarrassing them with her smothering, or Asterpaw was truly hurting and hiding that to play strong, it didn’t matter to Grapeberry. He has bared witness to this routine for as long as they’ve been apprentices. And they were nearly warriors.
“But–” Pearpaw stepped back, unveiling her timid friend. “At least let him see your ear.”
“Your ear? Oh, I see.” Grapeberry spotted a few drops of blood at the tip of Asterpaw’s right ear, ripped by someone or something that must have snagged on it. “Training, you said? Who got hungry?”
“PeakClan,” Asterpaw mewed.
“It was actually a tree branch–” Pearpaw interrupted, then did a double-take at her error when Asterpaw gave her a glare. “Yep, it was PeakClan!”
Grapeberry laughed, dropping the rabbit. Both apprentices tensed, the fur on their backs standing on their ends. Pearpaw forced out a nervous laugh, with Asterpaw flattening her ears.
“PeakClan?" He sneered. "May the stars all be dead, for this fatal wound is going to be your end, and you have rushed into battle with no thinking of your life. I don’t know how I will be able to help you, for I fear no herbs will be your cure. I’m afraid your fate will be left in the paws of the stars…”
“Will you stop doing that!?” Another voice from inside the cave snapped at him. Out from it peered a white pelt, belonging to Dahliapaw, his own apprentice.
“You guys can come in," she sighed. "Sorry about him, again. You know Grapeberry."
"Aw, it's okay!" Pearpaw purred, following after Dahliapaw. "We know he's just kidding."
"Yeah," Asterpaw grunted. "I don't get how you can stand stuff like that every day, Dahlia."
Grapeberry watched the tips of the young cats’ tails disappear into the vines, standing there for a few more moments, festering in his own bitterness.
"You know Grapeberry," he mocked under his breath. "Don't get how you can stand him."
He gazed down at his paws, the rabbit still lying limp on top of them, with its dead eyes staring past him.
Pity.
#warrior cats#warrior cats ocs#warriors ocs#wc ocs#writing#lotusclan's bane#lotusclan#grapeberry#eye strain#animal death
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
The earthquake in Turkey and Syria, within the 3-5 days window that is considered in rescue terms, needs much more than rescue considering these are now two nations grieving their people and ressources in such different yet similar ways.
Different in ressources allowed to them, because the two countries have different political contexts internationally which I am not really here to talk about but inform in terms of existence. Ressources about that are a-plenty, like always it’s good to be diverse and critical in what we read.
Similar in human experience and needs that are actually being catastrophically ignored and not being met with the support that is required to survive the drastic effects of the side-effects, too. The consequences and trauma that are sure to follow is similarly tragic and deserving of empathy, consideration, and feels strange to have that act as an important reminder. however I can see its relevance nonetheless given we do live through jaded social-media driven times.
That’s to say that BEYOND everything that everyone has gone through these past couple of pandemic years, this natural catastrophic event has now taken the lives of 11 000 people and counting. no one, literally no one no matter what your position or status or follower count or pay stub—I could not care less about any other marker of hierarchy—needs or deserves any critical/judgemental/vile/uncomfortable/condescending commentary or opinion that is unsolicited: if you so desperately feel the urge to volunteer make a larger effort where it counts instead of your ego, because the inflation of that will help no one and the least yourself.
This is also not a chance that I am taking to peer-pressure action when you don’t know what to do, absolutely not. However, a different perspective (which is in itself an action, consider yourself in your support!) on events of this kind, where two distinct nations with identities and children and memories and infrastructures that are hit in the same way need people to ask themselves “what is needed to offer support that helps everyone in need” instead of “what structures and systems do we prioritize to support through our infiltrative rescue,” y’a know…
There are diasporas that need support, people who really really could use the kindness stored up we have because theirs is being abused of too harshly right now. Not-a-one-living being is deserving of that no matter what.
Compassion does take effort and energy contrarily to what people like to say in situations like these to get you to consider taking that step, “compassion and empathy doesn’t cost you anything but your smile!” No. That’s just surface-help capitalist bullshit that’s used to brush shit under the rug and come out unscathed. No. Everyone hurt deserves to have their pain displayed for the systems that take such pain for granted to be pressured under, because they are undeserving of anyone’s attention in any way.
Your compassion and empathy do weigh a lot because it’s not easy to provide support in situations of high, intense distress! Of course institutions wouldn’t know that.
The attention you can offer to the people in need of our human experience counts for every penny that is being denied to either nation because of this-political-connection-this-and-this-political-connection-that.
Everyone can do something because everything is needed right now, whether all you know is knitting—it’s winter trust me those can be useful somewhere—or organizing—have you checked up on your friends whose families are in precarious situations, I’m sure they can use your conscious efforts to organize people to bring some food for comfort—or even mobilizing organizations or donations that you know how to network, everyone’s a winner if you will it so. Even in distraction, which is literally needed to continue fighting another day for the ones you love, is important, as is sleep. Human needs that we tend to forget are most at risk, consider it that way. How’s your friend with asthma who forgets they’re asthmatic because they’ve adapted over the years? This kind of stuff, you have no idea how much it helps, except now you do because I am passing on the information :)
Think of your needs for 3-5 days when you plan a trip. Your meds, your bare necessities to function, your extra ‘just in case…’ All that is still needed on top of needing emergency care in a state where everything around is rubble. Pharmacies, groceries, hospitals, and all other essential services are nonexistent due to the catastrophe being generated by an earthquake of very large magnitude.
Staying safe in a day keeps us happy and going for another to play :)
#Emergency#Syria#earthquake#empathy#human rights#grammys#excuse the previous tag but considering both events took place on the same night these are interchangeable in the media for attention atm#staying safe in a day keeps us happy and going for another to play#Turkey
7 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
