#like it’s bound to have happened at least twice
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Okay, so everyone is all cursed cat Alastor *hates* Vox...but what if It absolutely ADORES Vox? What if it's just like Alastor's Shadow, and it holds ALL of the emotions Alastor won't show? So it's ALL over Vox? Vox can't get a moment alone, cursed cat!Alastor is ALWAYS with him. Following him, loving on him. Only allows Vox to pet him...attacks regular Alastor when he attacks Vox, actually *defeating him.* (Alastor hates that Cat. And is ridiculously jealous.)
oh i endorse this 100%. i wrote a little snippet for it even LMFAO
it gets a tad long so ill leave it under the cut. it is mostly word vomit but . you know.. hopefully u guys enjoy :)
"We should really consider just putting the poor thing out of its misery," Alastor shoots a glare at the curled up lump on the carpet, its foaming mouth bound with rope, even as it chews furiously at its restraints. "Why, if we didn't, we would be violating our own 'no pets' policy!"
"Alastor..." Charlie frowns at her hotelier, before chancing a hesitant glance back at the creature. "Look, no one's perfect, right? Can't we try giving the cat a chance, at least?"
The other residents in the room- Angel, Husk, Vaggie, and even Lucifer himself- all give her blank eyed stares, Angel and Husk in particular rolling up their sleeves to show off the long, deep gouges in their arms.
"Charlie, honey, I think I speak for everyone here when I say you should just let Alastor get rid of it," Vaggie grimaces. "I know you love animals and all, but that- *thing* isn't safe to be around."
"What? Come on, it's sweet!" Charlie turns around, her back to the creature as she motions to it, completely unawares of the furry animal finally chewing through the final bit of rope as it lunges for her, much to the horror of the other hotel inhabitants.
An hour later, Alastor finds himself and his shadow traversing the streets of Pentagram City with the creature held securely in his shadow's grip. "Hmm... so, then, where should we dispose of this little pest? Ah, I have an idea."
He snaps his fingers and in a moment, reappears in a cloud of black, smokey shadow- right in front of the Vee's tower. With a swift motion to his shadow attendant, his doppelganger releases the cat-like creature from its claws, the feral little creature immediately charging the doors of the tower once it's let free. Alastor barely manages to hold back a snort before he once more steps back into the shadows- tomorrow, he'd check back again and see how it was going for Vox. With any luck, the results would be entertaining.
Vox gets the notification in the middle of a meeting. It takes merely the wave of his hand to dismiss the investors and step out, rolling his eyes as he prepares to deal with Val or Vel's shit again for the twentieth time today.
"What is it now...?" He frowns down at his phone, before noticing his assistant's contact on the phone. "Dei? What is it? Did something happen to Lis?"
"Uh, no, it's not anything like that, Sir," the aquatic sinner responds nervously. "Though, um... well, we have a little bit of an emergency, kind of. Not... really, since it's mostly under control now, but we lost a few employees in the scuffle--"
"Just tell me what happened," Vox heaves a long suffering sigh as he presses a claw to his screen, ready to send out apology gift baskets to HR again.
"Um. Well, there is a... Populis calls it a cat, but I'm quite sure it's not any sort of 'typical' animal at all, especially since it has antlers and a monocle... anyway. There's this... *creature* just kind of running around on the main floor, and it took out about five workers before Baxter managed to subdue it."
Vox blinks once, then twice, and then sighs again. "I swear to fucking God- okay, go and contact HR so they can get you all tested for rabies or whatever the fuck it is down in Hell, and I'll come to deal with the fucking cat thing."
"Yes, sir," Dei replies dutifully before the line goes dead. Vox groans before schooling himself and his expression and disappearing into a flash and electric current, teleporting all the way down to the first floor of the Vee's tower.
"S-sir!" Papermint comes running toward him first, looking worried. "Um... so, uh, when Dei went to get the cat creature, it sort of attacked him too--"
"For fucks sake, do none of you know how to do your job properly?" Vox pinches his screen again, thoroughly done. It was fucking Tuesday and he was already hoping for the end of the week. Get rich and famous, they told you. It'll be fun, they told you. Fun his fucking ass-- he has to spend his morning sitting through investment meetings and now, having to deal with a rabid Hell animal and the fact that it was mowing down his workers like some sort of demented lawnmower. Fucking great, just what he needed.
He stomps into the main hallway with the little eel sinner trailing awkwardly behind him, eyes widening in surprise as he takes in the scene before him.
On the ground, his main assistants Dei and Populis grapple with a tiny red animal.
It... looks somewhat like a cat, if a cat had an unholy union with whatever kind of deer Alastor was. And it also had a monocle, and was foaming at the mouth (yeah, definitely rabies), while his tech administrator Baxter stood to the side and watched with a bucketful of popcorn in hand. Logi, possibly the only normal sinner he had under his employment, was trying her damnednest to pull the cat- who, by the way, was winning the fight with BOTH his assistants- off of Dei, whose ear was currently in its mouth.
"I really need a drink," Vox groans before he rolls his sleeves up and walks forwards into the fray, the air around him crackling with static electricity as he intends to separate the fighters, whether with force or not- but to his surprise, he doesn't need to use any force at all.
Instead, when the little cat creature sees him, its eyes light up before it lets go of Dei's ear, the manta ray sinner letting out a groan of relief before collapsing onto the floor, the other assistants rushing to help him up. The cat, on the other hand, leaps up at Vox, who instinctively catches it in his arms. It purrs as it rubs against him, seemingly no longer hostile towards any of the other sinners in the room.
Vox stares down at the cat. It stares up at him, then grins.
It's... kind of cute, actually. In a really weird, freaky way.
"Uh... boss?" Baxter raises an eyebrow as he looks at the cat held securely in Vox's arms, then at the gaggle of sinners trying to make sure that Dei doesn't bleed out. "You gonna help, or...?"
Vox rolls his eyes before he sends a bolt of electricity over at the sinner and burns the bite, effectively cauterizing and closing the wound. "I'll have HR deal with it and get Dei a week's worth of paid recovery. Any more than that and I'm not covering it. You guys just get back to work after the cleanup crew comes, got it?"
He sighs down at the creature in his arms as he walks out of the main lobby, frowning to himself. "What am I going to do with you...? I've got a fitting with Dorian later, and he's *definitely* not gonna allow you in... and what the hell do you even eat, anyway? Better not be my workers- and oh dear god, I've got Vark, too, I can't believe I forgot about him-"
Still, even as he grumbles to himself, Vox can't help but recognize the truth: no matter what difficulties this little shit brings him, he's definitely keeping it.
A week's worth of time passes before Alastor finally finds some free time to go off and take a look at how his *esteemed* rival has been doing. He's half expecting half the Entertainment District to be destroyed by the time he returns, but there's nothing of the sort. In fact, business seems to be going about as usual... but then again, this may be one more of the TV demon's methods of avoidance. Vox *was* always a good actor, after all-- even if his own life was falling apart, he would never let that show.
So with that reassurance settled in himself, Alastor decides to take a risky move and get in closer range to his target- he slips into the shadows surrounding the crowd of reporters gathering around the ground floor of the Vee's Tower, clamouring for the chance to see the Media Overlord in the flesh.
Strangely, they all seem more chatty today-- Alastor didn't recall any sort of holiday being today, so it seemed that there was more information to be heard... and *that* was surprising, the revelation that something interesting may have happened while he was gone. Was it perhaps because of the hellspawn he'd dropped off a week earlier?
His question is answered not even a moment later, when Vox steps out of the doors, a confident grin on his face and a small, hissing red creature draped around his neck like a scarf.
Alastor's eye twitches.
Did he *keep* the damned thing? And why the *fuck* was he absentmindedly petting its fucking ears?! *That should have been him!*
#ran rambles#hazbin hotel#general asks#radiostatic#chai writes#snuck a few ocs in there hehe#cursed cat alastor
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How many times you think someone tried to tease Jimmy in calling him a toy boy, but messed up, you know?
What I’m asking here is how often does Jimmy get called the servers local BoyToy
#like it’s bound to have happened at least twice#empires smp#empires crossover#I guess#these are the kinda stupid thought I’d put on Twitter#but it feels more fitting here
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poisoned mercury | delicate
friend group shenanigans | set after pink skies | series masterlist
song: delicate by taylor swift
“good morning,” you yawned, rubbing your eyes as you exited your room. travis was taking up the entire couch, doubled over in pain. “woah, what happened to you?”
“food poisoning,” he replied, wincing. he had a blanket draped over him, acting like he was on his deathbed.
connor walked in with a bowl of chicken soup for his brother, rolling his eyes as he shoved travis’ feet off the couch to have somewhere to sit, “and whose fault is that?”
clarisse was sitting next to chris on the love seat, shaking her head, “told you not to get a hot dog from the gas station.”
“rookie mistake, babe,” chris chimed in, “whenever you tell trav not to do something, he does it. it’s in his dna.”
“connor shares the same dna as him and he’s not like that,” you called out from the kitchen, making yourself a bowl of cereal. the dining hall was already closed for breakfast since you woke up so late, thanks to the boy who was still passed out on your bed.
you couldn’t remember the last time you slept so well. you felt bad for leaving him alone, sleep in your room but your stomach was growling and if you didn't get some food in your system soon, you were bound to catch an attitude.
“that’s because i got the brains between the two of us,” connor joked, scoffing, “i let him borrow some brain cells once in a while.”
“fuck you guys,” travis complained, sitting up. “i’m dying here and you’re making fun of me?!”
you walked out into the living room, pulling one of the bar stools to sit closer to the group. your eyes darted to the screen in front of you, internally cheering at the familiar scene. they were watching barbie. the five of you watched in silence, letting out little laughs at the jokes, until the door of your room opened.
luke walked out, half-asleep, and made his way over to you. he kissed your lips, mumbling, “g’mornin, five star.”
“mornin’, pretty boy,” you squeezed the arm he wrapped around your waist. he sent you a lazy smile, nuzzling his face in your neck before disappearing into his bedroom. you turned your attention back to the screen, shoving a spoonful of fruit loops in your mouth, “oh, i love this part!”
when you were the only one who burst out laughing at ken’s “sublime!” you turned to look at your friends, wondering why none of them were laughing. they were staring at you with wide-eyes, jaws ajar. their eyes were bright, lips breaking out into teasing smiles. oh. oh.
“castellan get your ass in here, now!”
luke walked out of his room with his eyebrows furrowed, confused as to why chris was screaming his name like bloody fucking murder at 12 pm on a sunday. surely, he hadn’t done anything wrong yet– he just woke up! he put his glasses on, finally able to see the looks on everyone’s faces, including your red cheeks and sheepish smile.
luke didn’t even realize what he did until that moment. it just felt natural for him to greet you good morning, like he always did anyway, but it’s just sweeter this time around because he’s allowed to kiss you now, at least he thinks he’s allowed to. he was a little butthurt that he woke up alone on your bed this morning so when he walked out and was only able to make out your silhouette, he didn’t think twice before placing a chaste kiss on your lips. he got a taste of what it was like to kiss you and he couldn’t help himself to do it again.
he thinks now, though, that perhaps he should’ve thought twice because there was no way your friends would let the two of you leave until you explained. luke’s face paled at the sight of his friends. were you mad at him for kissing you in front of people? if his head wasn't spinning with all the negative thoughts he was having, he would see your face and understand that you were happy your friends knew about the two of you.
clarisse clicked on the remote to pause the movie, “soooo… seems like we skipped a few chapters.”
“more like we finally got to the next chapter,” travis snorted, earning a smack on the back of his head from connor. the older stoll hissed, “don’t act like y’all weren’t tired of their pining.”
chris rolled his eyes, eyes darting between you and luke. he was trying to fight the smile threatening to show on his features, “so care to enlighten us, guys?”
"luke?"
luke's head snapped to the sound of your voice, pulling him out of his head. you had an arm outstretched, beckoning him over to where you stood. it made luke feel giddy inside as he trotted over to you, finding comfort in standing behind you and placing his chin on top of your head. he swung an arm around you, hoping that you wouldn't see the thumbs-up he sent to the boys.
"yeaaaaahhhh castellan's got the girl!"
"oh my god," you whispered, turning around to bury your head in luke's chest. you were blushing furiously at the cheers from your friends. you think you might've even heard travis complaining about losing a bet to connor. clarisse and chris were babbling about how double dates would be fun, though clar mentioned that luke and chris would end up third and fourth-wheeling the two of you more than anything. "our friends are crazy."
the arm he had wrapped around you pulled you in tighter. you felt the rumbling of his chest, "they are."
"you guys are so fucking cute," clarisse said, a hand over her heart. "y/n, he finally made a move!"
you turned back around to face clarisse and the group, "actually i made the move!"
luke scoffed, "you did not. i kissed you."
"i asked you to come in last night."
"yeah i believe, y/n," connor piped in, shrugging. "luke was not gonna make a move."
clarisse gasped, placing a hand on chris' bicep, "we should compare notes."
your eyes widened, "do not compare notes."
"wait, what do you mean notes?" luke asked quizzically. "was five star talking about me?"
"clarisse i will never forgive you if you tell him anything."
"i'm not gonna tell him directly," she hummed, lacing her fingers with chris', "but if i told my boyfriend who happens to be his best friend and he tells luke, then, technically, i haven't done anything wrong."
"y/n, i assure you, you should not be embarrassed," travis said, snickering. it was luke's turn to panic. "whatever you said to clarisse about lover boy here, i'm sure it can't be any worse than what he's said about you to us over the last two months."
chris cleared his throat, putting on his best luke impression, "five star is so pretty. i don't think i've ever seen anyone so beautiful."
"five star is so funny. i can listen to her talk about anything for hours." this was travis.
"oh, luke where were you today? we haven't seen you all day," connor said in his regular voice before deepening his voice a tad bit to match luke's, "oh, i was hanging out with five star and we accidentally fell asleep by the lake."
"not to mention the dozens of songs he wrote about you," chris teased, "thanks for inspiring the second album, but bro was like alexander hamilton writing those songs."
luke whined, tugging on his hood to cover his face, "guys, stoppp."
"oh my god, y/n, you should see his tweets."
"do not show her my tweets!"
you burst out in laughter, getting up from your seat. you wrapped your arms around luke and he took the opportunity to hide his face in the crook of your neck. you could feel the heat on his cheeks against your skin. you played with the hair on the nape of his neck, "all right, guys, enough."
"can we go back to your room?" luke whispered in your ear, lips grazing the shell of your ear.
"mhm," you couldn't deny him of anything if you tried, "come on, pretty boy."
you couldn't help but laugh and throw up the middle finger to your friends as they called out jokes and kissing noises as you and luke went off. it was funny, really, how they all knew there was something between you and luke before the two of you did. it was nice to know that your friends were supportive, regardless of how annoying they would be now that you and luke were together.
luke collapsed on his side of your bed, unable to wipe the dopey smile on his face. you sat on his lap, leaning over to press kisses on his cheeks, "just so we're clear, i wanna see the tweets. and hear the songs."
"well you can't ask me that while you're sitting on top of me because i'll fold."
you giggled, kissing his lips passionately. his hands gripped your waist as he sat up, getting in a more comfortable position, "that's the point, castellan."
luke pinched your side, chuckling when you squealed, "you're evil."
"uh huh," you mumbled, "you know we're never gonna catch a break with our friends now right?"
"honestly, i haven't caught a break from the boys since i met you," he admitted, "but at least i get to kiss you now, so it's really a win."
you couldn't agree more.
#frances writes#poisoned mercury#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan pjo#luke castellan fanfic#luke castellan#luke castellan x yn#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan x you#percy jackson fanfic#percy jackson
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beneath the mask ✩ chapter 10
⬅ch.9
➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓
➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER
➠CHAPTER TAGS | violence. sexual assault implications. blood. wc 5.4k
➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | hehe enjoy
𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞��𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
…uzbekistan…
you woke to arabic voices, your eyes squinting open in discomfort. your head was pounding and your stomach thrummed with a wave of nausea. you quickly remembered you had been hit with the butt of a rifle, right beneath your ribs. you leaned over in the moving vehicle and dry heaved.
“innahā mustayqiẓatun,” she’s awake .
you sat back up, the realization of what had happened hitting you. you went to wipe your mouth and found your hands were bound together with a rope. you groaned and awkwardly carried out the action with your hands linked.
laswell . you quickly looked around, not seeing laswell in the the truck with you. you were in the backseat beside a man who was speaking hurriedly to the man in front, driving. you looked out the window, the town rushing by.
“where’s laswell?” you asked, your voice hoarse. the men ignored you. “my friend. where is she?” you said with a bit more force hoping one of them would answer you.
they continued to talk as if you weren’t there. you ground your teeth together in annoyance. you rested your head against the window, the cold of the glass helping with the tension throbbing in your skull.
your body was still pumping with adrenaline and you were finding it hard to sit still. your fingers wound themselves together, your leg bouncing up and down. you hoped laswell was okay. you also hoped she was going to the same place you were… you didn’t want to be alone, as cruel as that might be. you were trapped in this truck with three men—three men who kidnapped you. you had no idea where they were taking you or what they were going to do with you. the panic hit you like a slap in the face.
you tried to breathe slowly, letting out low breaths, trying to steady your nerves. it did little to help.
would the others be coming to rescue you and laswell? surely they would. shepherd wouldn’t let them give up on you two. at least not laswell, she was far too important. and price wouldn’t stand for it.
they were coming. you prayed to god they were coming.
“lieutenant. it’s farah. it’s time.”
“rog. wheels down in one.” ghost voice was hoarse as he answered farah over the comms. “nik, convoy’s inbound. we’re on.”
“copy that,” nikolai responded. “over the hlz now.”
ghost’s heart rate continued to rise the longer you and laswell were kept hostage. he clenched the gun at his hip and patted himself down, making sure he had all he would need to get the two of you back. he also found it hard to stay still, his body flooded with adrenaline.
“good. set ‘er down and hold,” ghost said. he walked to the door of the helicopter, looking between gaz and soap. “gaz, you stay in the heli on overwatch. we’ll work our way up the line.”
“roger that. let’s thin the herd, get laswell and iaso back.”
when the helicopter landed only moments later, ghost and soap connected fists with gaz as they hopped out. on the ground, dirt whipping around them from the blades of the helicopter, a woman on a rusted bike sat waiting for the two men.
“hey, lt., sergeant,” she called out, greeting the men.
“farah. thanks for the assist,” soap replied when ghost didn’t respond, noticing how he had tensed up.
“we share a common enemy,” farah said, nodding at the men.
“and friends in need,” ghost said a bit harshly. “are you ready?”
“all set. see you down the road!” she slid up her mask and pulled get goggles over her eyes. she looked so self-assured, ready to take down men twice her size. ghost thought about how you would have liked her.
“all stations… we’re on the move!” ghost called as he and soap jogged up to the beige truck waiting for them.
the two men jumped in the bed of the truck, ghost slapping the top of the roof to let the driver know they were on board and ready to go.
the procession of three trucks and multiple motorcycles took off down the dirt road.
“all stations, we’re up—comms check…” farah’s voice rang in ghost’s ear.
“good copy,” ghost grunted.
“check,” gaz responded from 30 feet in the air, his sniper at the ready as he pointed it out the door of the helicopter.
“loud and clear,” nikolai said.
“the al-qatala convoy just passed us. we’ll be right behind them,” farah urged.
“copy. nik, use the ravine for cover. we’ve got one shot to rescue them.”
“roger that,” nik responded to ghost.
“what vehicle are they in?” gaz asked.
“al-qatala has iaso in a black suv, laswel in the similar one right in front of hers. near the front of the convoy.” farah’s voice echoed.
“we hit the escort vehicles first. then we secure laswell and iaso before aq can reach the border.” ghost commanded. “soldiers, move in!”
gaz began to fire shots at aq that were standing in the back of truck beds. ghost gripped his gun as he aimed the barrel toward the aq vehicles up ahead. he was too far back to get a good shot and growled in irritation.
ghost leaned over the side of the truck, shouting to the man driving, his window down. “get me up beside one of the aq trucks!”
the driver nodded and stepped on the gas. “what’re ya doin’?” soap asked ghost.
“gettin’ the girls back,” he said before stepping onto the top of the truck and running down the front onto the hood, immediately jumping and landing on the back of an aq truck. one of the men stood and came at ghost, but gaz was faster, shooting a bullet through his skull before he could reach him.
“thanks,” ghost said.
“don’t mention it.”
ghost’s fist came slamming down onto the other aq, shoving him off the back of the truck. he sheathed his gun momentarily, maneuvering himself over the edge of the truck, his hand clutching tightly to the metal, his other hand opening the driver’s door. the man shouted something in arabic as ghost grabbed the collar of his shirt and ripped him from the truck. the man went tumbling on the pavement, his hands coming up over his head as the bikes raced around him.
ghost pushed himself into the driver’s seat with a huff. he yanked the door shut and floored it.
“jesus, lt.,” soap breathed, watching the events unfold.
ghost would have chuckled at soap’s astonishment, but all that was on his mind was getting you back unharmed.
of course ghost cared about laswell. he had worked with her for a while now, and he’d never admit it, but he cared about price too. and price and laswell were close. price had been fuming when he found out what happened on this mission—pissed at himself for not being there, as if he could have done something to stop laswell from getting taken if he hadn’t asked ghost to take his position.
but laswell wasn’t ghost’s main objective. it was you. you were who he was about to slaughter through walls of men for. it was you his heart pounded in nerves for. he felt so sick when he thought about what they might be doing to you that he almost had to lean over to retch.
and laswell—while out of practice—was a trained killer. you, on the other hand, had only started to take combat training seriously the past few weeks. the thought made ghost’s chest constrict painfully tight. if they put one hand on you…
he let out a shallow breath, turning the wheel to the truck abruptly, avoiding civilian cars while trying to move up the procession of aq trucks.
soap had an eye on ghost’s truck and saw the way he was swerving between oncoming cars to get closer to the front. soap almost regretted his conversation with ghost earlier. he was worried it had gotten through to him—that ghost was ready to risk his life, acting far too rashly, to clear his conscience.
ghost spotted the black suv farah had mentioned earlier up ahead. it was pretty far off in the distance and with aq trucks clogging the road, and oncoming traffic coming from the other direction, ghost slammed his hand on the wheel in frustration. it was going to take too long for him to get up close.
“throwing molotov!” farah’s voice rang in ghost’s ears, bringing him back to the moment. he saw the truck behind him go up in flames in his side mirror.
“heh-heh… i missed farah,” nikolai laughed.
the commotion in his ears faded to a rumble. ghost was focusing on how to get to you before it was too late, everything else was just background noise to him. he heard nikolai and gaz yelling in his ears but nothing was getting through to him.
an aq truck pulled up beside him and ghost immediately pulled his gun and began shooting. the truck stuttered backward before pulling back up and firing at him again. ghost ducked and swerved the vehicle. he slammed the side of his truck into the other, catching them off guard and using that as an opportunity to shoot back at them. before he could reload, the enemy truck exploded, turning into a ball of flames.
he heard farah laughing over the comms. jesus, she was intense, and ghost was thankful for it.
the further he drove, the farther you seemed to get from him. civilian vehicles were only getting in the way, the aq trucks swerving all over the road, preventing ghost and his other men from getting past them.
a car exploded before ghost, making him grip the wheel tightly, trying to turn out of the way. that wasn’t an aq truck…
“they’re taking down civilian vehicles! blocking the roads!”
shit.
you heard the explosions going off somewhere in the distance behind you. you turned to look out the back window and saw a large commotion, vehicles going all over the road, a procession of motorcycles with riders shooting men in trucks.
a feeling of relief swam through you— they came.
you continued to watch, unable to do anything else. you observed as a car that was rushing in the opposite direction blew up, rotating onto its back and igniting in flames.
“wait… those are just civillians,” you muttered to yourself. “hey! you’re killing innocent people!” you shouted. you couldn’t believe it. they were taking innocent lives, completely uncaring, their only objective was to block the roads.
you turned to the man beside you in astonishment, ready to yell again, when his hand came down on your face, slapping you across the cheek. your head flew in the opposite direction, your lips parting in a gasp.
“no more talking,” he said in a heavy accent.
you gulped, looking forward. you licked your lips and could taste the blood from your busted lip. the other men laughed as they looked at you in the rearview mirror, muttering something you couldn’t understand in arabic.
you were going to have to be smarter about this. you sat silently in your seat. you began to worry that your teammates wouldn’t be able to get to you in time. there were a lot of aq vehicles trailing behind you. you weren’t sure how they’d manage to get through them all.
you heard the engine of a helicopter and you turned, looking out one of the back windows again. your jaw dropped. oh my god, was that gaz? gaz was fucking hanging from a rope attached to the helicopter, upside down, continuing to shoot at enemy soldiers. you gasped when he almost swung right into a truck. your heart raced as you watched him.
a bend in the road cut off your vision and you faced forward again. you didn’t want anyone risking their life for you. as much as you wanted rescuing, you didn’t want it at the expense of others. the image of gaz swinging wildly in the air was plastered in your mind. these men were going to get themselves killed. and it was going to be your fault.
ghost felt like he was running out of options as you rapidly approached the border.
“gaz, nik—my spotters are reporting an aq roadblock ahead.” farah’s voice came in through the comms in a level-headed voice.
“affirm, i see it,” nikolai responded. “you might have to ram through.”
“crash it. kill as many as you can,” ghost echoed into his mic.
ghost gripped his steering wheel, stepping on the gas as he approached the roadblock. he spotted gaz coming up right behind him in an aq truck.
both men tore through the aq men, trudging past the trucks lined up to block them, destroying anything in their wake. ghost felt beyond destructive. he felt lethal.
“nik, i punched through,” gaz said as him and ghost got on the other side of the roadblock.
“be advised. there is a situation up the road.” nikolai’s voice sent a shiver through ghost. he was just waiting for someone to say your black suv blew up, or crashed, or they lost track of it.
“aq is deploying mines on the highway!”
“these are civillains, nik,” gaz said in anguish. “aq will burn for this.”
“i’ll bring the matches,” farah chimed in.
ghost managed to weave between the charred cars, praying he didn’t hit a mine.
further up the road, ghost swung open his door, timing it just right so when an aq motorcycle rode up right beside him, with great strength, he shoved the man off and hopped on. he watched as the truck ran off the road and crashed into a rocky hill.
ghost revved the bike’s engine, gaining far more speed than he ever could in the pilfered truck.
he heard gaz and nik conversing, then soap yelling over the comms for gaz to get on board the truck bed he was in.
ghost floored it down the road, watching as the procession ahead of him split off in two different directions.
“shit! they’re splitting them up!” soap called out.
“who do we follow?” gaz asked as he picked up the grenade launcher.
ghost grit his teeth. “soap, gaz—follow laswell. i’ll follow iaso.”
“you sure, lt.?”
“we don’t have time to argue about this, soap. just go.”
soap and gaz looked at one another before nodding. the convoy split up. soap and gaz followed laswell and ghost went off the road, following the black suv you were trapped inside. the car was going too fast for the others to keep up. ghost was glad he got on a bike, it was the only way he’d be able to get up to you in time.
ghost’s own words rang in his head, the ones he had said to you in the bar. the words that hurt you. the words he had regretted ever since they left his tongue. you were going to die thinking he hated you. thinking he used you.
ghost clenched the handlebars to the bike tighter, narrowing his eyes as he hurried behind you. he was going to get you back even if it killed him.
you knew you were going off the road the second the vehicle began to bump up and down. you tried to clutch onto something to keep from falling off the seat, but it was difficult with your hands tied.
the men in the suv with you were yelling at one another. then the stout man beside you leaned out his window and began shooting.
you turned to look out the window. your stomach dropped. the convoy was gone. you only saw one motorcycle trailing behind you. the others must have split off. this was their plan. to split you and laswell up, thus splitting up the convoy of rescuers.
you tried not to let the fact that only one person was trailing you to hurt your feelings. now was not the time to be sensitive. but you couldn’t help but wonder if laswell had the rest of your team following her. it made sense, though. she was laswell… and you were just…iaso.
you yelped as the vehicle took an abrupt turn, making you slam into the man beside you. he shoved you off and rushed to reload his gun. you looked behind you in horror, realizing it was ghost on the bike, finally able to make out his mask as he edged closer.
the man beside you went to lean back out the window, ready to send bullets in ghost’s direction. you acted before you could think, using your tied hands to claw at his back. you gripped onto the cotton material of his shirt and yanked him backward. he was so caught off guard from the sudden attack that he stumbled and crashed back on the seat beside you.
he said something in arabic then hit you across the face again. your head flew back and hit the edge of the door. you groaned in pain. you squeezed your eyes shut, your head throbbing.
they took a sharp turn and you were jostled back, opening your eyes in response. the man in the passenger’s seat leaned out his window now and began to shoot his pistol. you heard him make a celebratory noise and you almost broke your neck turning around to look for ghost.
ghost’s bike skidded out from under him, sending him crashing down. the bullet had blown a hole in his tire.
“no,” you said softly. your lips trembling. he was your last hope.
you watched full of dread as the truck carried you away. ghost sat up and brushed himself off. he looked out after you, standing in the middle of nowhere, at a loss of what to do.
tears began to slide down your cheek.
“i lost her,” ghost said over the comms in a newfound sense of defeat. soap had never heard his voice sound quite like that.
there was a moment of silence before ghost heard ruffling and then soap’s voice.
“come again, lt.?”
ghost was walking back from where he came, following the tracks in the dirt. “iaso. she got away.”
again there was radio silence.
“im on my way,” ghost heard farah say.
“farah—”
she cut ghost off. “i started trailing you as soon as we picked off the remaining aq trucks. we’re almost to you. stay put,” she demanded.
it wasn’t long before farah was riding up with two other men on bikes. “what happened?” farah asked, her bike skidding to a halt.
“fuckers blew my tire. they still got iaso.”
farah looked at one of her soldiers and nodded. he hopped off his bike and held it up for ghost. farah laughed as ghost looked confused. “get on. we’re goin’ to get her.”
“laswell?” ghost asked, wanting to know if she had at least made it out okay.
“soap and gaz got her. she’s safe.”
ghost took in a breath before accepting the bike and getting on. “let's go get her back, lieutenant.”
with a new rush of energy, ghost took off, following the tracks of the suv alongside farah and another soldier.
“she couldn’t have gotten far!” farah called out.
when the suv came to a stop, you were quickly escorted out of the vehicle. you stumbled, the men giving you no time to right yourself before they pushed you into a wooden building. the men roughly jostled you through the door, your eyes attempting to adjust to the dark.
you struggled to make out where you were before the man whose hands were holding your arm shoved you into a small room. you fell to the floor at the sudden force.
the man spat something at you that you didn’t understand then he slammed the door shut behind him. you were left alone in the room and you tried to sit up. your arm was already bruising from where he held you, and you could feel blood dripping down the side of your face.
you scooted yourself into the corner and hugged your knees to your chest, your wrists beginning to burn as they constantly rubbed against the binding rope.
you tried to hold back the wave of tears but you failed. you hoped they made it to kate. you hoped she wasn’t going through the same thing you were right now. though, if she was, she was no doubt coping much better than you.
you looked around the room, trying to clear your vision from tears by blinking repeatedly. the room was mostly empty except for a chair and a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was an interrogation room.
the notion plummeted inside your stomach, making you bury your face in your knees. you weren’t going to survive this. you were weak. you were suddenly pissed at price for letting you join his team. you weren’t cut out for this shit. you were a medic, not a damn fighter.
minutes ticked by and your tears finally dried up. the longer you sat, the more fear was instilled inside you. you regretted cursing price out already, knowing it wasn’t his fault any of this happened to you. usually, you were good under extreme pressure, but that was only when it came to medical stuff. not when you were being kidnapped.
god, your head was killing you. you hoped you didn’t look as bad as you felt.
the metal door scrapped along the cement floor as it opened. you looked up in horror as a man stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. he grinned when he looked at you huddled in the corner.
“you don’t appear to be a soldier,” he said, his accent dripping over every word.
“i’m a medic,” you said, your voice only slightly wavering.
the man made a humming sound as he dug around in his pocket. “well, then i’m sorry to have to do this to you, but really, we have no choice.” he gestured around him. the sardonic smile on his face said he didn’t mean any of the words he was saying. he likely couldn’t wait to torture you for information, even when you’d be unable to offer anything useful. he just needed an excuse to hurt someone.
he nudged his head towards the metal chair. “don’t make me have to help you up,” he grunted.
you quickly got to your feet and sat in the chair, your body shaking with nerves. the man grinned as he dragged the knife he drew from his pocket along your arm. “been awhile since i’ve done this to a woman. i’d be lying if i said i haven’t missed it.”
you swallowed painfully as he trailed the knife up to your neck. “you’re sick,” you spat at him.
he chuckled. “indeed.”
you knew then that nothing you said was going to help you. this man didn’t care if you knew anything or not. he just wanted to hurt you. you didn’t want to cry, but the tears began to fall again anyway. you tried so hard to keep them in. you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
he licked his lips as he watched the tears glide down your cheeks. “pretty thing like you shouldn’t cry,” he said menacingly.
he took his knife and traced it back down your arm until it reached your hand. “hmm. now, tell me. which finger do you like the least?”
you strangled a sob. he didn’t even interrogate you yet. he was just jumping right to the torture part “please,” you barely managed to get out.
“oh, i like the way you beg,” he remarked.
you grit your teeth and pulled your hands away from him. “nowhere to go,” he mocked, using his knife to gesture around the small confines of the room.
“im curious. where have you been getting your intel on hassan’s location?”
you shook your head, pulling back as far away as you could from him.
he tisked. then his hand grabbed your jaw aggressively, making you whimper. his knife came up and slid down the side of your face, this time he applied pressure and you squeezed your eyes shut. the blood wept out from the trail he left and you could feel it slide down your face and drip onto your clothes.
the man shoved your face back as he let go, flipping his knife in his hand as he watched you with fire in his eyes. “now, i’m going to give you another chance to answer. and trust me, you won’t like what happens if you don’t tell me what i want to hear.”
you opened your mouth but nothing came out. that type of information was classified, so even if you wanted to tell him—which you wouldn’t—you didn’t know. medics didn’t get the rundown of information like that.
when he realized you weren’t going to speak, he looked you up and down. “hm. you’re not going to be of much help, huh?” he prowled you like a cat would its prey. “how about i get some use out of you before i bloody you up too much, then?”
you didn’t like the sound of that. his knife hooked under the straps of your tactical vest and in a swift movement, he cut it away. the vest fell from you and he tossed it aside to the floor. then his knife was back along the collar of your shirt. he grinned as he ripped through your longsleeved shirt, straight down the center. you silently cried as you felt the air rush to your now exposed skin. the shirt was split down the middle exposing your tank top.
“please don't,” you pleaded.
you felt his fingers along the neckline of your tanktop now, his knife slipping under the fabric. you closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable.
just as he was about to slide his knife down your shirt, you heard yelling and the sound of guns going off in the distance. the man stopped all movement and turned around. he clearly wasn’t expecting any sort of interruption. without another word, he exited the room to investigate, leaving you alone again.
you caught your breath, breathing in and out exceptionally fast. you let out a loose breath and looked up at the ceiling, willing your tears to slow. the loss of his grimy fingers on your skin relieved you momentarily.
you tried to calm yourself as you heard more shouting and the firing of weapons. your legs were shaking as you sat there. you tried to use your hands to pull your shredded shirt back over yourself but it was no use. you swore in exhaustion, sinking back into the chair.
after several minutes, it was finally silent outside the room. your body set in more unease with the silence.
the door handle shook and the awful sound of it scraping the ground made you wince as the door opened. your eyes immediately went to the door and you kept them locked on the entrance, feeling them go wide as a large figure took up the space.
you almost choked on your breathing, a strangled sob leaving you as you locked eyes with ghost. you began to cry in relief. in shock. in horror of what almost happened—you were convinced it was really all over for you. that this was it.
as your body shook, ghost rushed up to you. his voice was hoarse as he said your name, trying to gain your attention. you looked up at him through hot tears and gave a halfhearted smile, your lips trembling. you had held yourself together as best as you could, but now with ghost in front of you, everything came tumbling down. his mask was covered in blood and he seemed to be out of breath.
he tilted his head to the side as he looked at you, his heart squeezing painfully at the sight. your face was bloody and your shirt had been ripped apart. a newfound sense of anger coursed through ghost.
he pulled out his knife and you flinched, hitting the back of the chair as you created space between the two of you. he took notice but didn’t stop his movements. maybe in any other scenario, he would have tried to calm you down, letting you know he was only using the knife to free you. but just the fact that you shied away from his knife sent him into a fit of rage. he saw that the cut on your face was a long, straight line. he knew then why you were suddenly acting like his knife was the scariest thing in the world. he wished he hadn’t already killed every fucking bastard in there. he would give anything to string up whoever did this to you and give them a slow death.
he slid the knife between your hands and cut away the rope, setting your hands free.
you immediately grasped your wrists which had turned red and rubbed raw from the rope. ghost looked down at you, still unable to say anything. your eyes met his again and you took a moment to take him in before you sprang to your feet and wrapped your arms around him. he didn’t hesitate as he hugged you back.
he felt you sobbing into his neck and his arms tightened around your waist. “you’re okay,” he cooed softly. “you’re safe now. i’ve got you.” his heart pounded harshly in his chest and you could feel it against you.
one of his hands slid up your back and got lost in your hair as he cradled you to his body, your frontside flesh with his, wanting you as close as he could get you. he shut his eyes for a brief moment, letting reality hit him full force. he got to you in time. you were okay. you were going to be okay.
he sank to his knees in sharp relief with you still wrapped tightly in his grasp. he let you take what you needed from him, his presence bringing you nothing but a sense of safety. he let out a long breath of relief.
you pulled back slightly, ashamed to look at him. “i-i’m sorry,” you muttered, your hand loosening around him.
sensing your doubt, he clung to you tighter. “stop,” he said in a voice so soft you felt your heart pinch. “this isn’t your fault.”
you felt like he was reading your thoughts better than you were. his few words hit you harder than he could ever know. you sank back into him, letting yourself go limp as he held you.
when you both finally separated, ghost helped you to your feet. he appraised your figure and you saw the anger behind his eyes. he moved too quickly for you to take in what he was doing. he slid his vest off and then removed his longsleeved shirt, leaving him in his black undershirt. you watched in astonishment as he pulled the shirt over your head. you slid your arms in as ghost picked up his vest and put it back on.
your eyes traced his tattooed arm and his scent immediately filled your nose. his shirt was far too big for you, hanging down over your thighs, but you were thankful. you knew it wasn’t your fault, but you were still embarrassed to have your shirt ripped and exposed like that. you didn’t want everyone else to know what happened to you. you almost felt ashamed.
ghost clenched his fist before reaching up and running a finger over the bruise above your eyebrow. “i’m sorry i couldn't get to you sooner,” he said distractedly.
you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “ghost, don’t. it’s not your fault either.”
he wished you had called him simon.
before he could think more on the topic and read into your every word, he scooped you up and held you in his arms bridal style. you squealed but settled into his arms quickly. his hand rubbed soft patterns on your back as he carried you out of the building. your arms hooked around his neck, your body shaking less violently, but still shaking nonetheless.
ghost held you closer and you felt like everything was going to be okay. you rested your head on his chest and let the tears fade out slowly.
chapter 11 ➡
#ghost#simon riley#smut#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#ghost smut#simon riley smut#cod#ghost fanfic#simon riley fanfic#ghost call of duty#ghost angst#cod mw2#cod fic#call of duty fanfic#mw2 fanfic#beneath the mask
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REQUESTING A PART TWO FOR SIREN SCARA? U GOT ME ADDICTED I LOVE HIM HES SO PERFECT <3333
Maybe he can turn into a human on land? I wouldnt mind hiding him from some hunters just for him to find us in our room/boat later <3
I've so many asks begging for more siren! Scara lmao, but I can't blame any of you, he is perfect 🙏🏻🙏🏻
✧･ﾟ:* ->Siren! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader
✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Pet name is used twice ('little captain'), Brief fingering, Sub! Reader, Dom! Character!
That old hag of a sea witch was pretty sketchy, but at least he can traverse land freely now, is what Scaramouche thought to himself as he cautiously practiced walking for the first time on the shoreline. So this is how humans move about everyday? Scaramouche figured that being able to zip around beneath the waves was much more efficient, but he would have to get used to these legs for a while if he was hoping to meet you again.
Despite having a human lower half, that didn't change the fact he still retained most of his sirenic features. And of course that was bound to be a nuisance. And a nuisance it was as Scaramouche found himself being persued by a group of hunters who only saw him as a walking money bag. He barely managed to get away, ducking into a dark alley way as they ran straight past.
Coincidentally, the building also happened to be the same seaside inn he saw you staying at. Scaramouche glanced up and saw the an open window illuminated by the glow of a lantern that no doubt lead to your room.
The last thing you were expecting as you curled up on your bed, reading a book peacefully, was to see someone climbing through your window with a grin on his face which showcased rows of sharp teeth. It didn't take long for his identity to click in your mind though as your eyes widened, slowly placing down your book as you sat up, "Scaramouche...?"
His smiled seemed to widen at your recognition as he wasted no time in crawling onto your bed, hastily pinning you down with his body. He leaned down, licking the shell of your ear sensually as he whispered,"Yes, my little captain. It's me, surprised? I knew you'd be. I went through quite a bit of trouble to get you, so I don't suppose you'll let me reward myself a bit now, do you?" Scaramouche's eager hands fiddled with the hem of your pants, already hooking his fingers around the waistband to pull them down.
You blushed at his forwardness, still in slight shock that the siren who was supposed to be sea-bound was now pinning you to your bed and begging for your pussy. But you weren't complaining but the urge to tease him for his eagerness was too strong,"Oh— Not even a hello..? You know, it's pretty rude to just climb through one's windows without notice," Scaramouche chuckled at that, bringing up a hand to grab your face, nails digging into the soft skin as he spoke in a tone that contrasted his deathly grip,"Trying to tease me now, are you? It's all fun and games till I'm the one teasing you with the thought of cumming. Is that what you want? For me to edge you till you cry?"
Your answer didn't really matter to him, all his mind was focused on was getting to put his dick in your pussy. Before you could get another word out, he used his nails to slice away your pants and underwear, leaving them in shreds as your folds glistened in all their glory. His pupils narrowed at the sight, red splashing his cheeks as he looked up to meet your embarrassed face,"So you wanted to 'take it slow' while you're practically dripping for my cock. Ironic, isn't it?"
Scaramouche dragged his index along your slit, gathering your slick before bringing it up for you to see. The way he was taunting you about your own arousal made you bite your lip as you shifted uncomfortably, hands fisting the sheets. The siren revelled in your movement, it was like holding the little fish he would catch and eat for dinner, so wriggly and desperate.
Without warning, he pushed two fingers inside you, knuckle deep before pumping them in and out at a steady pace. You inhaled sharply, face heating up,"Scara—!" "Mm.. Yes, my little captain, say my name like that.." His fingers worked their way inside of you, occasionally doing scissor motions to try and loosen you up in preparation for taking his cock. When he decided that he'd done enough prep, he removed his fingers from your gaping hole, watching it clench around nothing as you attempted to protest.
A hand covered your mouth to silence you before you suddenly feel a stinging burn in your lower half as he penetrates you, bottoming out immediately. He groaned as your walls clenched around him, he'd never felt anything like it before. And he wants more, he wants to feel your walls convulse around him forever. Scaramouche holds your hip with one hand, the other moving from your mouth to push down on your chest as he thrusts into you, albeit a bit sloppy at first but eventually picking up a pace, going deep and hard.
Your breath struggles to stay even as you grab his shoulders to stabilize yourself. Each roll of his hips against yours sends you to heaven and back, the room filling with the sounds of your moans and skin on skin. Your orgasm is inevitable, and you let him know through gasps and cries for more,"Ahn...! C-cumming—! Nngh..—!" Scaramouche's grip on your hips tightened as he heard that, fins twitching with anticipation as he muttered huskily,"Do it. I wanna watch you come undone on my cock.."
He didn't need to repeat himself as you felt the knot in your stomach snap, cunt clenching around him one last time before coating the base of his length with a creamy white ring. The look of utter bliss on your face as you came made him come too, pace faltering as he buried his load inside of you. When his thrusts finally came to a stop, he let himself collapse on top of you, nuzzling the crook of your neck as he engulfed you with his arms.
Scaramouche didn't bother to pull out, preferring to just lay there with you as you both panted heavily, basking in the aftermath of your actions. Your body twitched, thighs trembling as you take a few minutes to process what just happened. His seed is still hot inside you, making your lower half feel warm,"That..that was amazing.." You managed to whisper, a low hum coming from him in response.
You felt a combination of his tongue licking and teeth nibbling a fold of skin on your neck, his face flushing as he tasted the salty tinge of your sweat,"Mhm...It's worth taking the risk to see you. I'll be doing that more often from now on.."
"So expect a lot of surprise visits from me. Maybe I'll even bother saying 'hi' this time.."
#genshin smut#smut#x reader smut#genshin impact smut#genshin impact x reader smut#✧･ﾟ:* meena's memos! ✧･ﾟ:*#scaramouche smut#scaramouche x reader smut#scara smut#scara x reader smut
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HAPPY WINTER SOLACE SHANA HELL YEAH I MADE IT IN TIME!!! CAN I GET ME SOME TONKS AND PERCY AS A BIRTHDAY TREAT? 👉🏻👈🏻 (My birthday is the 22nd) HAVE AN AWESOME HOLIDAY! 🎄🎄🎄
Percy is supposed to focusing on these reports that he technically shouldn’t have taken out of the office, but technically Crouch is supposed to be handling these, so.
While his absolute piece of shit apartment usually holds no more appeal than being stuck in the office overnight, it currently has Tonks resting with her head on his thigh “resting her eyes” since she refuses to go to bed before him because she believes in blackmail and manipulation. Which he can’t reasonably say he’s surprised by, considering, but it is a little inconvenient.
His work is important or he wouldn’t be doing it, but if he falls asleep at work the worst that happens is he embarrasses himself. If Tonks goes out on a call without getting proper rest, she could be putting herself in danger. Leveraging her own safety to get him to sleep is underhanded and irresponsible.
She’s going to do exceptionally well working under Shackbolt. He’d plucked her out from the other trainees from the beginning. It has nothing to do with him, but he can’t help the smug furl of pride anyway.
He clears his throat and her eyes flutter open. She has to blink a couple times for them to settle to her natural dark brown, cycling through several shades of blue and yellow. He wonders what she was dreaming about. “Bill has a meeting at Gringott’s on Thursday. He’s going to come by the office after and we’re going to go to the cafeteria to catch up.”
“That sounds nice,” she says, turning to press her face into his stomach and rubbing her nose against his sweater. He makes a mental note to try and talk to the landlord about doing something about the heating system, or at least refreshing the charms himself, but he’s not good enough to make them last long. Maybe Bill wouldn’t mind doing it before he returns to Egypt? “Are you done going through the Russian reports?”
No. Translation charms are imperfect and it takes him forever to parse through and figure out what’s actually being described. If Crouch wasn’t such a dick to them, they’d submit in English. “Do you want to join us? If you can. It’s okay if you don’t want to.”
That gets her attention. “Really? I mean, sure. I’m pretty sure I’ve spoke to Bill twice ever. One time he gave me detention.”
His lips twitch. Bill remembers that. “Thank you. He wants to meet my girlfriend. Or re-meet, technically.”
She beams, so pleased whenever he calls her that. She’s been calling herself his girlfriend for a months, but it still makes him warm to see how pleased she is with the title. He’d really though he was just a passing interest, a distraction while she was desk bound, but she’s still here. “Yeah, of course. It’ll be fun!”
He hums in agreement, the sound interrupted midway with a yawn.
“Come on,” she says, pushing herself to her feet then tugging him up after her. “We both need sleep. That’ll all still be there in the morning.”
That’s the problem. But he says, “Alright,” and lets her maneuver him as she likes.
Giving in to Tonks doesn’t sting like it does with other people. It’s always a relief and a pleasure to see her satisfied and happy.
#HAPPY BIRTHDAY i hope it was a great day!!!#asks#lance-with-a-chance-of-anxiety#prompt answers#prompts are closed#harry potter#siat#aaaannnd that's a wrap!#holiday prompts are done
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Thank you to the marvellous @humboltsquid for commissioning a fanfic with pregnant Reader attempting to hide said pregnancy from the Horsemen because she fears they'll buy into the social rhetoric surrounding single mothers who don't know who the father is.
TW: Vomiting, morning sickness, drinking, Pregnancy, briefest allusion to sa, no actual sa took place, everything was consensual, both parties were drunk, Reader remembers most of the night except the guy's face and name. Horsemen are predictably angry about someone touching their little sister.
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Porcelain, cold and consolidated, bites into the sensitive skin of your palms as you grip the edge of the bathroom sink, your arms locked like overheated pistons just to keep yourself standing upright in defiance of how your legs seem determined to collapse out from underneath your weight.
To your right, the loo gurgles noisily, flushing away any traces of the meal you’d spewed up into it only moments ago. At least the sound helps to drown out a voice thundering at you from the other side of the door.
“Let us in!”
Fumbling with the tap for a moment, you bend down, spooning a palmful of fresh, cooling water into your mouth. As you do so, you spare a baleful glance down at the loo again, and the food lost to its pipes… Perfectly good rations… all gone to waste.
Five years on from the Great Resurrection and Earth’s agricultural efforts are finally on a steady incline. While the food situation isn’t anywhere near as desperate as it was when Humanity woke up to a world without excess, that doesn’t mean you’re particularly pleased to see precious rations wasted because you couldn’t hold them down.
And now that you’re supposed to be eating for two…
Groaning, your expression twists into a look of remorse, and you place one hand gently on your stomach, roaming a palm over the bump that lays hidden beneath the baggiest jumper you could find. You’re only too aware that it won’t be so easy to hide the swell in another couple of months.
You barely manage to bite back another miserable groan as a colossal fist hammers against the door so viciously, you almost wonder if the wood will splinter and break, which starts to seem more likely when seconds later, a familiar voice booms out, “If you don’t open this door, I’m tearing it from its frame!”
Ah… That’ll be War; youngest of the Four Horsemen, an armoured, muscle-bound colossus who also just so happens to be one of your very dearest friends.
A friend who has been growing rightfully suspicious of you over these last couple of months…
There are only so many excuses you can fall back on to explain away your frequent and unexpected dashes for the nearest bathroom. You can only thank the Creator that neither of the Four seem all that well-versed on the more delicate biological functions of humans.
Swiping a wrist over the back of your mouth, you lean away from the sink and assess yourself in the mirror, doing your best to ignore the taste of vomit still sitting like a layer of fuzz on the roof of your mouth.
‘How long are you going to keep this up?’ you pose to your reflection, her sleep-stained eyes bearing back into yours as if she too has had the same question.
It’s been like this for a few weeks now, ever since the dreaded Morning Sickness wrapped its hands around your guts and wrung them with a relentlessness that leaves you scrambling for the closest bathroom at least twice a day.
It wasn’t this bad in the first trimester… Now entering your second, things are getting a Hell of a lot harder to manage. To hide.
Slowly letting your eyes slip shut, you exhale through your nostrils in exasperation as a different voice accompanies the first. “Kid? I uh… I think he means it. We just wanna make sure you haven’t drowned in there.”
Strife… The humour he tries to inject into his quip is overshadowed by his hand rattling at the doorknob. He’s worried. They all are. You wouldn’t have thought it possible, if you didn’t know them personally, though each Horseman will swear up and down they don’t ever feel such trivial, human emotions.
Actions, however, speak louder than words.
Their sister, Fury, has hardly left your side ever since Mrs Gaffe tutted at you from across the hallway and you immediately retreated into your apartment, leant back against the door and wept into your hands. She didn’t know… She didn’t know Mrs Gaffe who lives on your floor is also a chemist, and she’s also the very woman who sold you your pregnancy test… and the subsequent tests you went back for when the first came up positive. You’d spent over an hour convincing Fury that, no, she doesn’t need to defend your honour by besting old Mrs Gaffe in combat. Though you let her know you appreciated the gesture.
You try to think the best of your neighbours. And you certainly didn’t like to think of Mrs Gaffe being a gossip, but judging by the curious and frequently disdainful glances other people in the building sent your way, you soon came to realise your secret was not such a secret after all.
You’re pregnant. And the father is nowhere to be found.
You only hope word doesn’t get back to the Horsemen somehow. You don’t think you could bear it if their gazes turned sharp and pointed as well.
Outside the bathroom door, you hear War grunt at Strife to move aside, and at last, you decide you’ve stalled enough.
Shoving yourself off the sink, you spin around on a hell, regretting the action as a wave of dizziness threatens to knock you back down to Earth, but it’s soon dispelled with a deep breath and a second to gather yourself, calling, “Okay, okay, I’m coming out.”
Someone – Strife, you think – grumbles, “Finally.”
Grabbing the handle, you pull the door towards yourself and tilt your head back, blinking up at the two, immense shapes blocking the entire width of your hallway. If it weren’t for the space between your bedroom and bathroom being meagre at best, you imagine you’d have the remaining two behemoths cramped in there as well.
“When did you guys get to be so clingy.”
War’s ice-blue eyes glare down at you from beneath a crimson hood.
You start to edge past them, feeling like a fish trying to squeeze between a pair of grizzlies. Just as you make it past and put your back to them entirely, you hear Strife announce, “All right. That’s it.”
“What’s it?” you ask hesitantly as he advances on you, his heavy, metal boots thudding on the carpet. Before you can react, the Horseman suddenly slings a bulky arm around your waist and hoists you off your feet, tucking you into his side. You’re forced to fold almost in half, bent over Strife’s uncomfortable gauntlet with most of the pressure bearing down on your stomach.
“STRIFE!” you exclaim, horrified.
“I’m not lettin’ you go until you tell us what’s been goin’ on with you,” he huffs, clomping into the living room with War bringing up the rear. By the window, Death twists his bone-mask towards the commotion, his shoulders flattening, unimpressed. “Brother…” he warns.
Fury too, tosses Strife her own disparaging glare from the sofa and barks, “Is it truly necessary to manhandle the human?”
You, however, hardly pay attention to a word they exchange. Your mind is utterly and wholly on the point of your stomach that’s digging into the Horseman’s gauntlet. You can cope with the discomfort, but it isn’t just you anymore.
There’s no thought to the cry you let out, just a plea borne of a desire to protect the little life growing inside you, by any means necessary. “Strife!” you exclaim, smacking your palms against his armoured thigh in a bid to relieve some of the pressure around your gut. “Put me down! The baby-!”
No sooner has the word left your lips than you find the arm restraining you springing open, letting you tumble to the floor. A jolt shoots through you as your hands and knees strike the carpet, but all you can celebrate in that moment is that the strength of a Horseman is no longer curled around your vulnerable stomach.
You don’t look up at the Horsemen until you’ve pushed yourself back to your feet, patting down your jumper. When you do happen to glance up, your face immediately falls.
Death has shifted from his position by the window and now stands several, jarring feet closer, he and Fury both, in fact. The latter has somehow leapt from her seat on the sofa in the time it took you to gather yourself up off the floor.
But more disconcertingly, they’re still. Utterly motionless as if they’ve been caught in a pocket of frozen time.
Gulping, you tentatively twist your head over a shoulder, only to find War and Strife are in much the same state.
Strife has backed up to stand next to his brother, his liquid-gold eyes round beneath his visor, neither one of them twitching so much as a single muscle. It’s… eerie. You don’t think you’ve ever seen them so still before. Death, maybe, but not the other three.
It only occurs to you then that you might have let something slip.
Then, at last, just as you wet your lips to call out to one of them…
“What did you say?” Fury breathes, cutting neatly through the heavy blanket of silence draped over the room.
Blinking owlishly, you turn back to face her, your mind scrambling for an adequate response.
“What… what do you mean, ‘what did I say?’”
Feigning ignorance it is.
You actually leap several inches off the ground when the Horseman suddenly explodes back into motion, storming forwards in your direction and exclaiming, “What baby?!”
“B-baby?” you double down, backing away from her until your spine collides with a solid torso – War. “Who said anything about a baby?”
“You just did!”
“Did I?”
“Y/n…” Death utters in a slow and cautious tone as though he’s afraid you’ll bolt at the slightest provocation - Hell, given the furtive glances you keep swinging around his side at the door to your apartment, he might be in the ballpark. His voice alone carries enough authority to silence his sister, and more than enough to make you clamp your jaws shut painfully tight. “You’re with child?”
It’s strange, but despite the inflection on his last word, you get the impression he isn’t asking you if you’re pregnant, but merely whether you’re ready to admit to the fact.
The hopelessness of it all dawns on you when you meet his enduring, gilded stare.
He knows.
And if Death knows, there’s little point in continuing your efforts of duping the other three. In spite of outward appearances and their frequent, often frightening disagreements, the Four Horsemen have a bond stronger than tungsten. So, with a head that suddenly feels weighed down by months of secrecy and deflection, you lower your gaze to the floor near his boots and give a slow, sombre nod.
It’s as though your little confirmation is all that they needed to lift the veil on any and all doubts.
The shadows they cast on your carpet suddenly start to tremble as an overhead light flickers, strobing on and off until it sputters weakly back to life and holds steady, albeit dimmer than it had been before.
The Horsemen seem to grow in size, muscled shoulders bulge like raised hackles and four sets of eyes flare with an ethereal light as they shift their weight, bearing down on you like toppling monoliths.
“I’m gonna kill ‘em,” Strife mutters venomously under his breath, “I’m gonna kill whatever bastard laid a finger on-”
“-W h o t o u c h e d y o u?” the eldest Horseman’s growl cuts him off. It’s guttural and animalistic, so much so that you can’t withhold a flinch. You could count on one hand the number of times Death has outwardly lost his temper, which makes it all the more alarming to witness.
Stumbling over your words for a beat, you keep your eyes fixed to the floor as the Old One stalks across the meagre living space towards you, his ominous shadow growing along the carpet to swallow you whole. When it seems he’s right on top of you, you finally blurt out, “N-Nobody!”
In hindsight, that wasn’t the most logical answer.
Fury – her vibrant hair whipping behind her like angry, coiling snakes - scoffs, tucking her arms firmly across her chest. “Nobody?” she parrots, “I’m no expert, but don’t these things usually involve two parties?”
“Great! Now she’s lying to us,” Strife barks, pacing back and forth behind you and throwing a hand up to rake the fingers of his metal gauntlet through his stiff, black hair, “I don’t believe this, we go off world for two weeks-!”
“Were you hurt?” War’s voice, though less jagged than Death’s, is pitched low enough to rumble through you until it resounds inside your chest. You can feel his presence behind you, too close for comfort, the living embodiment of rage and violence.
You suddenly fear for the man whose face and name you can’t recall.
“I… no,” you protest, hugging your elbows close, “It wasn’t anything like… like that. It was an accident! We were out drinking, and I-“
“DRINKING!?”
Your mouth snaps shut as Death lurches towards you, and you’re finally forced to tear your eyes off the carpet when his sinewy fingers slide around your biceps and he hauls you a foot off the ground, holding you up to his mask and subjecting you a shout that’s rife with unparalleled urgency. “You know what that does to a human’s inhibitions!” he demands.
His hands are gentle, neither hurting nor bruising the delicate skin on your bare arms, but the power behind even his gentlest grasp is frustratingly insurmountable.
You’ve never liked how easily he can manhandle you. “Yes, Death! I know what alcohol does!” you snap back, kicking your legs and trying to twist out of his grip, “I’m not a kid anymore, stop treating me like one! And put me down!”
You’re aware that your point is all a matter of perspective. For the Horsemen, there’ll always be some small part of them that continues to see you as a youngling. You’re human, after all. A hundred years wouldn’t even see a Nephilim out of adolescence. Not to mention that the Horsemen have all but declared you as one of them… One of theirs - an unconventional, human sibling they’ve taken into their fold.
It's not so easy for them to simply stop seeing you as their little sister, no matter how much you might wish they would sometimes.
As your retort fades into silence, Death blinks, recoiling his head slightly with wider eyes, and it will only occur to you later just how rare it is to make Death falter.
The other three, although their bodies still quiver with barely contained adrenaline, have fallen quiet whilst you stare down their eldest until at last, he lowers you gingerly to the floor, setting you safely on the carpet once again and retrieving his hands.
You’d never dare to say it aloud, but in that moment, something like shame flashes over the dark sockets of his mask.
“Why didn’t you tell us, kid?” Strife asks, the crux of his question tinged by badly concealed hurt.
“This, Strife,” you sigh, throwing your arms out towards he and his siblings, exasperated. Fury with her face set into a thunderous scowl. War’s metal gauntlets curled into bludgeoning fists. Even Strife is idly tracing a finger on the stock of Redemption in its holster, and Death – especially Death – whose ancient magics are still causing the lamps in your room to fade in and out…
Heaving another, immense sigh, you continue, “This is why I didn’t tell you.” Well. It’s one of the reasons, but at this point, it’s a fairly vital one. “I mean, look at you!”
Each Horseman shares a glance with one another.
“You’re all raring to go on a manhunt to find a guy who didn’t even do anything wrong!”
“Didn’t do anything wrong?” War grunts, teeth still bared despite following the lead of Death and reeling in his temper, if only slightly, “He mated with you-“
“Oh, hell, War, don’t say it like that,” Strife complains, grimacing under his visor.
“-and now you carry his child, and he has abandoned you both?”
Biting at the soft flesh inside your cheek, you withhold a frustrated groan and remind yourself that War’s sense of Honour is vastly inflated. The ‘father’ of your child’s ignorance won’t excuse his absence, not in War’s eyes.
Even so, you try to dissuade any ideas of retribution before they can gain traction.
“He didn’t abandon us, War. He probably doesn’t even remember I exist! Goodness knows I can hardly remember that night…” You trail off, lowering your gaze to the floor.
Death’s eyes are suddenly the hardest to meet. You recall your first introduction to Lilith; the self-proclaimed mother of all Nephilim, and subsequently the Horsemen themselves. You know of the demoness’s… reputation. You also know firsthand how much the Eldest Horseman despises her. You’re terrified Death will see something of Lilith in you, that you’d be so liberal with your own body as to end up with a child.
The inside of your eyelids start to burn. “And now everyone is gonna think I’m just some skank who went and got knocked-up by a stranger and… and-… They’re always gonna look at my kid and wonder who the father is. I don’t even know who the father is.”
There are tears prickling at your eyelashes, but you force your hands into fists at your sides, refusing to wipe them away lest your draw attention to them. The Horsemen see anyway.
Light blooms back to its full power across your apartment, your lamps stop trembling, and a pale finger crooks beneath your chin, tilting your head back until you’re peering up at a stoic mask of bone.
Death’s ebony hair falls in curtains around his face as he bends a little to speak to you in a hushed yet urgent tone. “He didn’t…” Hesitating, he draws in an unnecessary breath to fill dead lungs and alters his trajectory. “You were not forced…?”
You wish you didn’t know why that question is so important to Death, why the concept of consent means more to him than it might the others.
“No,” you reiterate miserably, “That’s one thing I do remember. I wanted, uh… it, at the time, a-and so did he. He didn’t know this would happen any more than I did.” You pause to lay a hand over your stomach, furrowing your brow as you give it a pensive stare and missing the way Death’s shoulders slump with relief. After a second or two, you hesitantly raise your chin to look him in the eye again, hoping that what little determination you can inject into your voice will hold strong. “… Look, I’m not proud of it, but it happened. I can’t change things… and… I’m keeping them. I’m sorry, but I’m keeping this baby.”
You hold your breath, expecting arguments, expecting a rebuttal or perhaps even a scoff or two.
“Why would you be sorry for that?” Strife pipes up instead.
It throws you off kilter. Pulling away from Death, you swivel around to frown uncertainly at War and his brother, fiddling with the hem of your jumper’s sleeve. “Well… I mean… I-I’m having the baby…“
When you don’t say anything further, War raises a hand and pulls down his hood, exposing the full extent of his wispy, white hair. “Yes?” he prompts, the unspoken ‘and?’ ringing clear as a bell.
“I’m having the… baby of a… of a man I don’t… know?” you finish slowly, glancing at each of them in turn.
“Big deal!” Strife announces so abruptly, you have to do a double-take, “You don’t need him to help you raise a little human! You’ve got us!”
Nodding her head, Fury adds, “Far be it from me to agree with Strife, but… in this case, he may be right.”
War grunts his own agreement, and when you throw an incredulous look at Death, you’re floored to see him dipping his head in concurrence as well.
“You’re…” Darting your tongue out to wet your dry lips, you squint at the eldest Horseman, asking, “You’re not angry?”
He’s quiet for some time, contemplative even as his gaze roves lower until it comes to a stop on your torso. Then, gently, he replies, “The only qualm I have is that you’ve been trying to bear this weight on your own two shoulders. And while I wish you had told us sooner, at least now we know how to help you.”
“Help me?” you utter, voice cracking.
Death’s eyes dance with a sudden fondness. “Well,” he replies, “As I’m sure Strife has told you repeatedly-“
“- you’re one of us,” said brother butts in, expertly finishing Death’s sentence and stepping up beside you to lay a heavy palm on your shoulder, “We take care of our own. Same goes for your kid.”
You’re too late to stop a choked noise from escaping the base of your throat, but before you can say anything, War steps forwards, towering over you as he pounds a solid, metal fist against his chest, directly over his heart in a show of allegiance.
“You and yours will always have the protection of the Four,” he proclaims.
“You… you don’t have to, you know,” you sniff, swiping a few fingers beneath your eyes, “I signed up for this baby, you guys didn’t. It’s okay if you don’t want to get involved because -“
“-Oh, don’t talk such nonsense,” Fury gruffly interjects, “You’re sorely mistaken if you think either one of us will be leaving your side for the foreseeable future.”
“Fury,” you laugh wetly, aiming a wobbly smile at her, “You mean that?”
The surly Horseman’s lip curls but she merely shrugs and retorts, “I may not care much for children, but someone will have to stick around to teach our youngling how to fight.”
Our youngling…
Your heart squeezes appreciatively, even if she might not have noticed the slip.
“That’s just her way of sayin’ she cares about children if it’s yours,” Strife’s voice murmurs in your ear, and with a gentle nudge at the small of your back, he pushes you towards the sofa his sister has vacated. If Fury hears him, she doesn’t dispute his words.
As you’re herded to sit down, War, ever the more practical of his siblings, is busy casting a rather dissatisfied look around your apartment, making a quick mental note to ramp up fortifications. He’ll have to schedule watches between himself and his siblings too…
“I can’t believe it,” you mutter, half to yourself, half to the Horsemen, sinking down among the cushions of your sofa and shaking your head, “I’ve been so worried about telling you guys I’m pregnant, and you’re just… okay with it.”
“As if we’d be anything else,” Death sighs, roving a quick look over you from head to toe. Squinting slightly, he adds, “Hmm… I’m not, however, okay that you can’t seem to keep food down lately. I take it that’s why you’ve been disappearing so suddenly of late?”
Giving him a sheepish nod, you shuffle to one side, allowing Strife to flop heavily onto the sofa next to you, his enormous thigh squashing you up against the arm rest. “I’ll go for more rations in a bit,” he announces, eager to provide.
“I can go,” you say, “They are for me, after all.”
Burly shoulders bristle in a display of faux authority as Strife instantly argues, “Nuh uh. You’re stayin’ right here where it’s safe.” He grumbles a nonsensical sound, then begrudgingly admits, “Hate you leavin’ at the best of times…”
Despite the niggle of exasperation that begs you to remind them you’re not helpless, just pregnant, you offer him a warm grin and bump your shoulder against his side, saying, “You’re going to make a great uncle, Strife.”
To say the Horseman’s mask almost flies off as he whips his torso around to face you would be an understatement.
You have to lean back, as though pushed away by the sheer intensity of his blazing stare. “What’d you say?” he breathes.
“I… oh, I, er…” Realising you may have overstepped, you swiftly attempt to backtrack. “I mean, that’s not what you have to be called, I was just-“
“-Uncle... That’s the brother of a human’s parent…” His eyes shine like the sun as they bore into you across the sofa. “Right?”
Uncertain, you quirk a brow at him. “Uh, yeah?”
He contemplates that for a second before he asks in a far smaller voice that almost doesn’t sound as if it belongs to the boisterous Horseman you know, “I’m your brother?”
“Of… course?” you blink, surprised that he’d need to even ask that question, “Of course you are. You said it yourself, I’m one of you. Sorry to say it, but that goes both ways. You’re my brother Strife. A-and if you’re okay with it… I’d like you to be this baby’s uncle.” Tearing your eyes off the sharpshooter whilst he none-too subtly coming apart at your side, you send a tentative look up at War, peering at him from under your lashes. “You too, big guy. But! Only if that’s okay with you? I just… want them to grow up knowing who their family is…”
War coughs into a mighty fist, hoping to hide the tiny smile that’s trying to bloom at the sides of his mouth, “In that case, it would be an honour to be acknowledged as the child’s ‘Uncle,’ until my dying breath.”
Always so serious. Giving your head a fond shake, you flash their sister a knowing look and call, “What about Aunt Fury? You on board?”
“Hmph, well,” she shrugs one shoulder, turning to glare at the wall, “It… has a nice ring to it, I suppose.”
You’re not fooled. The way she’s keeps having to wrestle the corners of her lips back into a terse line speaks volumes.
“Of course, I haven’t forgotten about you, Death,” you say, at last addressing the Reaper who is watching the proceeding with a calm, reserved expression. At least until he catches the little smirk lifting your cheeks. “Or should I say, Grandpa Death.”
At once, the Nephilim’s expression flattens, unimpressed. “If you introduce me to that child as ‘Grandpa Death,’ perhaps I won’t be sticking around.”
“Ah, you love it, Gramps, don’t try to deny it,” Strife teases, leaning in to stage-whisper in your ear, “Look at him, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the miserable bastard this happy.”
You have to stifle a snicker for Death’s sake. True to form though, while his eldest brother’s fearsome scowl persists when it lingers on Strife, it soon grows soft again upon turning back to you.
And in that one look, shared between a human and the eldest surviving Nephilim, you realise categorically that Death is with you. All of them are. They aren’t worried about your reputation. They won’t concern themselves with the idle gossip of your neighbours.
They’re family, as is the small spark of life steadily growing inside your stomach.
And father or no, your child is still going to grow up under the watchful eye of the Universe's most diligent and protective guardians.
#Darksiders#darksiders 2#darksiders 3#commission#found family#pregnant reader#hiding pregnancy#fluff#hurt/comfort#protective horsemen#allusions to SA
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Infrunami
summary — peter’s memory is really good (no it’s not)
pairing — tasm!frat!peter parker x fem!reader
disclaimer — i don’t own tasm or peter. i’ve also been listening to infrunami on repeat for 4 days and had to do something about it.
warnings — mentions of drinking/alcohol, possible ooc, and this is (let’s all say it!) unedited
The frat house was just about as clean as it could be. It was rare for a house full of boys to be spotless, especially with weekly parties like the one going on right now. Surprisingly enough, this particular party had been relatively chill--no broken glass, no body shots. Maybe it was the pungent haze of weed in the air that floated from the mouths of those with sloppily rolled blunts and dying pens. Instead of a blunt, Peter's fingers were wrapped around a red solo cup.
"...and honestly, it's sort of weird because, y'know..."
There was a girl attached to his arm. He wasn't drunk enough to forget her name—well, he wouldn't have forgotten it if he even knew it in the first place. She seemed nice enough: a giggly blonde majoring in poli-sci...or was is psych? Honestly, her introduction was all sort of fuzzy. One minute, he was alone, the next, he was hearing about a research project that was 'sort of weird.'
"Hey, you mind if I go grab another drink?" Peter interrupted her rant, his voice low.
"Oh, yeah, sure," she nods in response, glossy lips stretched into a smile.
He gives her a closed-lipped grin of his own before picking himself off the wall and heading to the kitchen. He weaves his way through the house in an eerily graceful fashion. Upon reaching the kitchen, he looks down at his full cup.
Peter wasn't a dick. At least, he liked to think he wasn't a dick. He wouldn't just tell a girl to piss off if he wasn't interested; he'd make excuses and slip out as fast as possible. Maybe in the long run it was sort of a dick move, but he rarely ever saw those girls again (and if he did, he'd look the other way). There was the fact that he was bound to forget a few faces as well.
“No lady-friend tonight, Parker?” Zack—one of his frat brothers—chimed in his ear. He slipped past Peter and to the keg they’d set on ice in a plastic kiddie pool. Never once did he think he’d see a Sonic the Hedgehog themed kiddie pool next to the oven.
“It’s like, ten, give it a rest,” Peter shot back, sipping at his beer.
“I saw you talking to that blonde.” Zack smiled and made a gesture of approval as he filled his cup.
“Eh,” Peter shrugged.
“‘Eh?’” Zack’s eyes widened, “I’d say she’s at least three tiers up from ‘eh’ category.”
"Eh," Peter repeats, leaning his head back. It wasn't as if he had a girl wrapped around his arm at every party, but it also wouldn't be surprising to see it. Between his freshman and junior year of college, his body count had increased significantly. He had regular hookups—at least one every week and rarely ever with the same person more than once or twice. It was easier to just love 'em and leave 'em. At least, that's what he told himself every time he was ordering an Uber for the girl in his bed.
"Well, if you're gonna 'eh' her, mind if I give it a try?" Zack asked, taking a gulp of the beer, swiping the foam off his lip with his thumb.
"Be my guest," Peter waved him off casually.
"I'm gonna go full Zack-Attack," he grinned widely, shooting Peter a thumbs up.
"Never say that again," Peter called out, though, Zack had already turned his back to approach the blonde. And so it was just him and his beer. His beer and him. A cup and a hand, a drink and a tongue, a—damn, he was bored. Normally, he really liked these parties. He could get a decent buzz or high and usually end the night with someone going down on him. Tonight, though, was so dull. He felt (ironically) like a fly on the wall, watching the world around him through a vignette filter. The boredom was almost comforting. Nothing was happening, but then again, nothing was happening. He could bask in the fact that he had nothing and no one to do—
Thump.
Karma was real, and it was a total bitch. Right when Peter had decided that his night was going to be one of peaceful indifference, he watched an obviously inebriated boy stumble past him. He saw it all happen in slow motion: the way the his feet dragged into one another, one shoe catching the lace of the other. Before the realization that he was falling could hit, Peter grabbed the boy's shoulder and righted him. Unfortunately, the drink in the boy's hand hadn't been so lucky. It slipped from his hands and splashed out beyond him like amber rainfall. If Peter hadn't had much to drink, he probably could've caught it. But his senses were somewhat dulled, and the liquid was already pouring from the lip of the cup.
"Oh, shit."
Karma actually wasn't that bad, Peter thought, as his eyes flashed ahead of him. Instead of splashing onto the floor, the beer had landed on an innocent bystander. An extremely attractive innocent bystander.
Her face was crinkled up like a disappointed mother who just came home to see her kid shoving stuffed animals down the toilet. Though her jeans were nearly beer-free, her shirt was entirely soaked, Splash Mountain soaked. Her gaze first landed on the boy, then on Peter. Okay, so karma was actually really cool.
"I am so sorry!" The boy slurred, his eyes drawn open in horror.
"Yeah, I figured," she sighed. She didn't sound condescending—she just sounded like she was already over it. The ends of Peter's lips twitched, but he suppressed the smirk.
"I can't believe I spilled my drink on you!" The boy was much less over it than she was, "I'm so sorry! I—oh, man—"
"Hey, bud, I heard they're doing Jägerbombs out on the porch," Peter whispered to the boy. The guilt was gone from his face almost instantaneously, replaced with an almost childlike sense of wonder.
"I fucking love Jägerbombs!" He exclaimed, his empty solo cup forgotten as stumbled off and out of the kitchen.
"I've never seen someone move on so fast," Wet Shirt Girl spoke up, watching the boy nearly fall again.
"The power of Jägerbombs," Peter suggested. He slipped his windbreaker from his arms and held it out to her, offering a smile along with it.
"Here," he said, "It doesn't exactly fix the wet shirt, but it works for now."
"Thanks," she nodded, grabbing the jacket. She slid it on with an almost exhausted sigh before speaking again: "I’ll only smell horrible now."
Peter laughed at that. He watched her zip it up, he watched the way it strained against—
"I'm Peter." His eyes connected with hers again. A brief look of shock took over her face before it melted back into the same neutral expression she held before. He almost wondered if it was a brief stroke of imagination that made him see her widened eyes.
"I bet you are." Was her reply. Oh?
"That's usually the cue to introduce yourself," he said, a hint of a smile still on his lips.
"Usually is," she nodded. There was a brief moment of silence, an awkward pause at which they stood at a stalemate. Peter took her in again. She was cute. Really cute. Even if she had been weird about introductions, he couldn't help but admire her. So, he spoke up, his voice splitting through the silence but not the tension.
"Do you want to borrow a shirt?" He asked, "My room's right upstairs." When she didn't immediately reply, he quickly added: "I swear I'm not trying to pull anything, I just figured it would probably be pretty uncomfortable wearing a beer shirt."
She watched him for a moment, her eyebrows crinkling in a way that made Peter fight off another smile. He knew he'd won when she let out another sigh, the tired, over-it kind that he was already becoming familiar with it.
"Alright," she nodded. Peter chose not to hide his grin as he mimicked her nod. He led her away from the kitchen and towards the staircase, peering over his shoulder every once in a while to make sure she was still in his tow. Sure enough, every time he looked, she would be there, pulling the windbreaker—his windbreaker—around her.
His room wasn't messy, exactly. There were scattered papers and rogue socks, and of course his flannel sheets were crinkled at the foot of his bed, but it wasn't disgusting. Their entrance was nothing less than unceremonious.
"This is my room," he stated the obvious, gesturing around.
"I would've never guessed." She shook her head. He gave her another small smile before he crossed the room to his dresser. He searched his drawers for something baggy and stupid, something he wouldn't miss. After a few seconds, he landed on a gray shirt with a smiling pterodactyl on the front. Faded words words under the creature read 'You're Dino-Soaring!' Good enough.
“Hopefully this shirt isn’t too provocative,” he grinned as he handed it over.
“Hm, I’ll have to make it work,” she said, inspecting the shirt in an overdramatized sort of way. While she looked at the shirt, Peter went right back to looking at her. She’d be a welcoming sight to wake up to next morning. He wouldn’t even mind paying for her Uber—hell, he might even walk her out of the house, make sure she gets in—
“You got a bathroom I can use? To change?” Her voice interrupts his thoughts, and he shakes the clouds from his eyes.
“Yeah, of course,” he nodded. A few doors down and they make it to the bathroom. Peter goes first, checking for drunk bathtub dwellers, before slapping the doorframe.
“All yours,” he announced, leaning against the wall next to the door. She gives him a salute before entering and closing the door behind her. It only takes a minute or two before she’s emerging again, extending the discarded windbreaker to him.
“It’s a little sticky,” she warns as she hands the jacket back to him. Peter’s eyes wandered down to her shirt.
“Oh, look, you’re ‘Dino-Soaring!’” He chuckled, the low, throaty kind that says he’s holding back an actual laugh.
“I’m always Dino-Soaring.” Her laugh accompanies his. His lips curl up in another smile.
“Do you wanna get something to drink? I can promise this one won’t end up on you,” he suggested, holding that same grin.
“Alright.” Her nod makes his lips quirk up higher. In a reverse of moments prior, he leads her down the stairs and to the kitchen when the sticky remnants of the spill have dried to the floor.
“What’s your poison?” He asked as he tucked the windbreaker under his arm.
“Just Coke—I think I’m gonna tap out for tonight.” Her eyes travel over the sticky floor and the stained shirt in her hands.
“Two Cokes, coming up,” Peter nodded. Two red cans are procured from the fridge in an instant.
“Thanks,” she hummed as she took the drink from his hands, “And thanks for the shirt, too. It really would’ve sucked to have to wait until I’m home to change.”
“Don’t mention it.” He waved her off, cracking open the tab of the Coke.
“Living in a frat must be…sticky.” She can’t seem to peel her eyes off the spilled patch of beer.
“Sometimes,” Peter chuckled, “But it’s not all bad. I get to give out dinosaur shirts.”
“Oh, don’t tell me that I’m not the first girl to ever Dino-Soar around these parts,” she gasped in mock surprise.
“No, no, trust me, I’ve never seen someone Dino-Soar quite like you,” he grinned in reply. He liked her. She was a little awkward, but so was he. He liked her smile, her laugh. He’d probably like her name, too, if she would ever give it to him.
“You never told me what your name is.” His head cocked to the side in a questioning manner. Her expression twisted in a way that told him she knew that was coming.
“That’s right,” she hummed, “Never told you it. Before I do, can I ask you something?”
“Shoot,” he nodded approvingly.
“Do you not recognize me?” Her lips curled in a small smile, “Peter, we’ve had classes together since freshman year—and not just the lecture hall ones, like, the ones where there’s only twelve people in the room. It’s sort of a statistical marvel. I’m honestly less offended and way more impressed that you don’t know me.”
The words hit him like a semi-truck. Really? She’d been in his classes? She had to be joking—no, she wasn’t joking, the look on her face told him that much. He immediately searched through his memory for her face, combing through classes. Peter never took himself as someone with a bad memory, but he was starting to change his mind. She had to be lying—she wasn’t lying.
“You’re—”
“Where have you been? What the hell are you wearing?” He’s interrupted by another voice. Sliding onto the scene (and effectively ruining Peter’s chances of salvaging the situation into a hookup) is a girl with puffy red hair. Freckles dot her olive skin and scrunch with her as she brings her nose up.
“Long story,” Dino-Soaring Girl responds with a smile, the one she’d been giving to Peter only a moment ago.
“Okay, okay, we’ll come on,” the redhead grasped her arm gently, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Liv threw up after doing a Jägerbomb and we’re gonna head out. I don’t wanna leave without you.”
“The power of Jägerbombs,” Dino-Soaring Girl shook her head. Before she was dragged off, she turned to Peter for one last look.
“See you in class?” She suggested with a smile. He didn’t get to respond before she was gone, the redhead threading through the masses of people. Peter watched her go, unsure whether he should be confused or smiling. He chose the latter.
Peter Parker wasn’t dumb, but he was stupid. And, he was out of a dinosaur t-shirt.
#peter parker#tasm peter parker#spiderman#tasm spiderman#peter parker x reader#peter parker x fem!reader#peter parker x you#peter parker x y/n#tasm! peter parker x reader#tasm!peter x you#tasm!peter x y/n#tasm!peter x reader#tasm!peter parker x reader#tasm!peter parker x you#tasm!peter parker x y/n#frat!peter#frat!peter parker#frat!peter x reader#frat!peter parker x reader#tasm!peter imagine#tasm#frat#spiderman x reader
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𝔏𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲’𝔯𝔢 𝔐𝔢𝔞𝔫…
True Form!Sukuna x Fem!Afab!Reader (This is an AU!!! Sukuna is not a homicidal maniac cannibalistic murderer! I think he’s sexy and my morals say no dick from crazy murderer BUT dick from crazy 😍)
CW: violence in this chapter, threats, bloodiness, implied sexual violence and objectification
Description: You've been friends with Yuji Itadori for some time now and have seen the best, the worst, and the strange in all your years of knowing him. You've never thought he was one to have any crazy secrets and well... you were wrong. And now the demon bound to Yuji is bound to you too! How fun! Good thing that you aren't stupid and won't fall for a being that by no means should you have ever interacted with! Right? Right...?
*despite this being an aged up version of yuji, there will be no sexual stuff involving him, also the violence is only in the first chapter with a few mentions after that!!! Cross posted on Ao3 under Spicycrunchroll! THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT LATER ON!*
Chapter 1: Never Again.
Poor you, stuck with a gay best friend and his gay boyfriend and exclusively terrible, gross men. The struggle of getting a good man was hard enough, let alone getting some good dick. Even gay men will tell you how bad some dudes are. Its one thing to finish in 2 minutes and cry after, at least there's sympathy, but a whole other thing to just be kicked out of the guy's house immediately and left wearing d r y panties with cum on your shorts. Yeah, never hooking up again, you tell yourself each time. Now, you found yourself wiping the oil off your face with a clammy hand while dialing Yuji's number, having just been booted out this guys house in the middle of the night. It rang only about twice before he picked up.
"Please don't tell me something bad happened." He said on the other line.
You sighed, walking to the end of your date's driveway and sitting on the ground. "Worse than usual. Can you pick me up? I'll send you the address." Your head hung low and your eyes felt heavy, wanting to cry but not having the energy to do so. At this point, you're never fucking anyone again. Let alone agreeing to suck them off before you get off. "I should've known that all his talk were lies."
You could hear him breathe in. "Yeah, I'm coming. Wanna stay over?" He asked jubilantly, as if to raise your spirits.
You smiled softly. "Could you stay at my place instead?"
"Hell yeah!"
You said your goodbyes and opened your phone, aimlessly scrolling on social media while looking for something to distract you from the disappointment of being used up and left to the corner, dehumanized again by a shitty man with a big ego. God, it made you sick. It wouldn't take long for Yuji to get to you, but it wasn't fun waiting either. Each minute ticked on by as if an hour had passed and all you wanted to do was throw away your shorts and shower off the stench of vape juice and alcohol. You didn't want to get in his car and start sobbing about how you wished you never did what you did, not because Yuji wouldn't listen, but because of your own embarrassment. Itadori has always been kind and much more level-headed (at least with this, he's usually just as stupid as you) so its extra embarrassing to have to tell him you sucked off a guy who didn't even get you wet. At least he was clean, you tell yourself, deleting Tinder from your phone for the last time. Never again will you take subpar dick from grown men who act like children! No, from now on, your body only allows worthy men, men that would worship you like you'd worship them!
After sulking for another five minutes, the engine of a car in the distance rumbled in your ear. Straightening your back, your head turned in the direction of where it’s approaching. It’s approaching way too fast for a regular suburban neighborhood. Rising to your feet to take a step back, it already turned down the street you happened to be on and you could hear sirens go off in your head, especially as you noticed that none of their lights were on and they definitely didn’t have tags. The van sped past you but they started to slow down before they reached the end of the street. You felt your heart rate surge when you realized they came to a complete stop. At that moment you realized that they were turning around.
Quickly, your legs brought you to the house you had just left and you banged on the door for a few seconds and screamed.
“Hey! Let me back in!!! It’s not safe!” The roar of the car started again and your intuition told you to run so that’s what you did.
Fuck, who knows who these mother fuckers are! Your mind is racing thinking about what they could potentially do if they caught you. Did they know you were here? Did they just happen to see you? Or… did the motherfucker inside of that house tell them you were here? Oh fuck… that’s why he kicked you out.
Tears started falling from your eyes as you ran through these people’s yards, you could see lights coming on in some houses, but it was no use because the car behind you stopped and three men came out the side door. You prayed that your human survival instincts would kick in and catapult you to go faster than you were, but they were bigger than you and right on your tail. Your legs ached and burned, practically sprinting and trying not to trip in the road. You didn’t dare look behind you, scared to slow yourself down, and scared of them. You kept on running and running until you reached the end of the road and saw headlights.
“Yuji!” You screamed, recognizing the shape and color of his car. With you out in the road, he stopped abruptly and you could see his body jerk with the impact. The men behind you cursed themselves but you felt hands on you faster than Yuji could process what was going on.
“Get her now! He’s coming behind us we’ll throw her in!” The man lifted you and you screamed again, but a hand swiftly covered your mouth. Yuji was out of the car and lunged at the guy holding you captive but was quickly stopped and apprehended by the other two.
“The kid has some fucking balls!” The biggest of the guys holding Yuji shouted, earning a strong blow to the chin. You thrashed against the man’s body as the large van from earlier came up right behind you.
Yuji looked at you as blood dripped from his nose. “Y/n! I got it, I promise!”
You held out hope and believed him even as you were thrown inside the van and the driver pulled away from the scene, leaving the two men with Yuji and you with a man wearing all black pressing you into the floor of the van. Tears spilled from your eyes, angered and terrified at the same time.
“Looks like we got a real good catch!” The driver harrumphed. “Bet she’ll go for a pretty penny.”
Your mind practically stopped when you heard those words. You were going to be sold, like an object, like a slave. The horror of it all made your body go numb and eyes go wide and then you closed them.
“Please.” You begged. “Please let me go.” Your voice was hoarse and you could taste your own tears as your mouth opened.
“No can do. We were told that you’d fetch a high price with your skills. Don’t worry, some girls get a good owner.” His voice was menacing and cold, but he spoke as though he actually fucking believed it. He didn’t even laugh at your pain like a monster would, he was just indifferent, emotionless.
“Please.” You begged again. “I can’t do it, please let me out!” This time your voice raised. “Help!” Your mouth was stuffed with cloth and your face was buried more into the floor as he bound your wrists.
The driver started to chastise the other man. “Why didn’t you gag her right away, the dumb bitch is louder than a dying cat!”
The other man cussed back. “Shut the fuck up, there isn’t nobody coming after us!”
The van stopped so fast you and the man were flung to the front of the car, colliding with the back of the front seats.
“What the fuck!” The man that was holding you down swore. His arms were now off you and the bindings he attempted were loose enough that you released your wrists and went for your gag. “No you don’t!” He reached for your clothes, yanking you back. Before you were held against your will again, the entire van split down the middle, from door to door. The back half of the van was flung off to the side before it became a cut up mess in the middle of the road.
Then you saw him. His hair was the same color as Yuji’s but was much less controlled. You could see what looked like four arms and a giant smiling mouth in the middle of his stomach. Every single person in the van went still and silent, staring at him. The creature looked inside and dead at you, bright red eyes gleaming in the moonlight. All four of them. Even the two on the side of his face that looked almost like a mask. He can’t be real. The tattoos all over his body were arranged in such a pattern that it was beautiful but something that scared you even more.
The creature spoke. “Now.” His gaze shifted from you to the man holding you. “I prefer it when I can get a good fight out of my opponents, but you lot are pathetic.” He looked disappointed. “Normal humans…”
No one spoke and he pouted. “Not a single retort? None of you pathetic excuses of flesh can say a word? You had a lot to say about selling the woman, can’t you entertain me? Or are your brains so simple you can’t think outside of making money off selling one of your own?”
Their own? Did he mean… humans?
The man behind you was shaking. And you could definitely feel his pants getting wet.
The creature before you sucked his teeth. “Boooring.” He narrowed his eyes. “And pathetic.” The vehicle was slashed once again, this time cutting into thirds, leaving you and the man holding you isolated in the middle while the other two thirds, including the driver collapsed around you. You heard squelches of flesh from the front and gasping. “You said she sounded like a dying cat, hm? Since you prefer the quiet so much, I thought I’d help you.” The creature chuckled.
The man holding you finally let you go, and he turned around to see the driver. You didn’t look. You knew what the creature did. Scurrying away, you realized headlights were approaching again and… it was Yuji!
“Ahhh, the brats already here. Well, I can’t kill you lot so how about I leave the piss-soaked one with a lesson.”
You didn’t know if you should thank the monster or run from him. You decided to run toward Yuji’s car.
Another crack resounded in your ears and then a gut-chortling scream resounded from behind you. “There we are. Something nice and fast. I hope they don’t find you until the morning.” You didn’t want to know what he did, you didn’t want to dare to turn around, all you cared about was the car door opening for you and Yuji’s comforting presence.
He looked so relieved to see you. “Y/n. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. Don’t worry about those guys. I got you now. Sukuna won’t kill them, he can’t, but they’ll never ever do anything like that again to anyone.” Those were the first words to meet your ears. You didn’t say anything, all you did was sob in the seat next to him as he drove off and away from the scene. You didn’t ask anything. You didn’t want to. All that mattered was getting the fuck away from this and home and into a clean bed.
You could care about this later.
“I would’ve killed them if it wasn’t for this contract.” Your heart jumped out of your chest as the monster’s voice resounded in the backseat. “Sorry you don’t get the pleasure of knowing they’re dead.”
#jjk#jjk x reader#Sukuna x reader#Sukuna smut#sukuna#ryomen sukuna#sukuna ryoumen smut#Sukuna x reader smut#jjk smut#yuji itadori
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the protected draconia || malleus draconia
masterlist
characters: n/a
genre: angst(?)-ish (honestly sorta neutral)
contains: lilia pov lilia pov lilia pov, blood/injuries, my own personal idea of how malleus' grandmother is?, ooc lilia probably I'm sorry D:
summary: lilia knows more than he lets on. but what he didn't expect, in all of his time in briar valley, was to see a member of the royal family on the ground in a cave, wingless and hornless.
notes: mm gotta get the story rolling somehow :D
parts: [og post] | [previous] | [next]
lilia, for as long as he had served the draconia family, was well aware of the turmoil that befell the name after a mysterious man created a "bastard" child. the man was an enigma, an unknown parasite that came and went like the wind.
it was surreal for lilia, having been close to the general before his untimely passing that occurred after his family nearly fell apart. not only that, it was now his job to take over the position following the funeral.
and as time marched forward, so too did lilia. he found himself becoming a general and a father all in a span of a couple years. and although he loved his jobs, he couldn't help but think.
he would catch glimpses of them in the halls now and then. they often clung to miss leah as if she were their real mother. it was endearing, to say the least. and when lilia finally found the time, he had confronted the fae.
"i see you're taking care of the little dragon, now."
"ah, general lilia...!"
"no need for formalities. i was simply... here to ask for your opinion."
"opinion...? for what?"
"what is the best way to handle a cracked horn?"
it was as if the two were newly single parents that had no clue on how to raise their kids, which, in all honesty, wasn't far from the truth. with that single question, the two had forged a bond, a parental bond with the two members of the draconia family.
so when miss leah came rushing over, crying out that the little dragon had gone missing, lilia felt his heart drop to his stomach as if his own children had gone missing.
"lilia! lilia!" leah cried out as she barged into his chambers, tears falling down her face and her usually stoic and composed demeanor left behind somewhere.
"leah!" lilia gasped as she entered. "what is it?"
"it's (name)!" she panted as she struggled to catch her breath. "they... they were supposed to come back this afternoon, but when i went to retrieve them, the advisors told me they hadn't come back from their test!"
lilia grimaced at the sound of the advisors. he knew exactly which ones she was talking about and how cruel those supposed "good" fairies were.
"and what was that test the little dragon was sent on?" he asked, dreading the answer.
"they... they were sent into the forest! but they won't tell me what exactly happened!" leah panics, collapsing to the ground in front of lilia in a bow. "I beg of you, general lilia, please find them!"
lilia didn't have to think twice about the request. despite not formally meeting the younger draconia, he had a duty, an obligation, to keep them safe, both as the general of briar valley and the protector of their older brother, malleus.
the forest was dense and quiet, save for a few rustling of trees and bushes. despite the dense foliage, it didn't take him long to find a trace of the smaller draconia, or rather, whatever had taken them.
lilia had stumbled upon a trail, most likely one belonging to a beast of the briar. he had seen a fair share of them in his time out in the thorns but this one... this one was different.
from the prints alone, it seemed almost forced. it wasn't a natural trail one would see from a beast.
lilia was quick to follow the trail, finding himself weaving through thorn bushes and trees until he reached a small cave hidden amongst the flora. and what he saw there was beyond the horrors he had seen on the battlefield.
curled up on the ground, bound by thorned vines that cut and punctured their skin, was the so-called bastard draconia. and, other than the blood coming from their tied arms, was the blood dripping from their back and head.
"oh, you poor thing..." lilia could only coo, delicately cutting the thorned vines off of their arms and scooping them up. when he saw how crudely their horns and wings were ripped from the body, he had a sneaking suspicion he knew what fate had fallen upon the child in his arms.
"your highness." lilia greeted as he kneeled in front of the queen. just a formality, he always reminded himself. nothing but a formality.
"lilia... what is the meaning of this...?" the queen uttered, staring down at the body presented to her with wide, fearful eyes. "this..."
"yes. the child of your daughter and that... man." lilia responded, his hands lightly pressed against the child's back to stay the bleeding. "i am... aware of your decision to keep them within the palace walls, but... my main concern now, and miss leah's main concern, is the treatment of this child."
"...tell me more." she commanded as she stood up from the throne, slowly walking down the steps until she reached lilia and (name). "...despite their diluted blood, this is still my grandchild. what has happened to them?"
"i asked miss leah here to explain to you in detail. she has more experience in this than i." lilia explained, motioning for leah to step forward. she did, albeit with a bit more nervousness than lilia.
"your... your majesty..." leah bowed to the queen. "the child you have placed in my care is a bright one. however, many of the servants who have lived with them seem to only see them as the child of an affair and blame them wrongfully for their very existence."
the queen's demeanor seemed to change at that instant. her once caring and soft eyes directed at the unconscious child turned cold, almost rivaling that of the thorn fairy herself.
"miss leah... you mean to tell me that my own servants have been mistreating my grandchild?" she hissed under her breath.
"y-yes, your highness..."
"and, if i may," lilia chimes in, slightly lifting one hand. his palm was coated in blood. "it seems that your most trusted advisors have caused these injuries on the young child."
"they... what?" the queen growled, her expression growing darker.
"not directly or of their own hand, but by order." lilia clarified. "i have reason to believe that these injuries were caused by--"
"a fae in white, yes, it is quite obvious." the queen quickly interjected.
"...and so, your advisors seem to have ordered your grandchild to hunt down a beast in the briar, leading to them getting caught and abused by a fae in white." lilia concluded.
silence filled the throne room. the queen took a deep breath, clutching her scepter tightly in her hand, her knuckles turning white. she took another deep breath, her eyes shut.
"...i will deal with these unruly servants by my own hand." she decreed, slowly opening her eyes. they drifted down to (name), who was still shivering on the floor. "...have them tended to. i shall atone for my part in their suffering in the only way i can right now."
"and that would be...?"
"...lilia. leah. please raise my grandchild the way they should have. as a member of the draconia family."
it was a surprising awakening. opening your eyes, not to the cold floor of the cave, but to the pristine ceiling of... somewhere?
you weren't entirely sure where you were. and nor were you aware of who these people were standing above you.
taglist: @brokenncrown @help-meplz @destinationdesignation @rainys-personal-garden @kalims @sxftiebee @luxaryllis @auld-a @the-dumber-scaramouche @ayra2452008 @tinywho-man @spadecentral @justeclem44 @kenma-izhu @mulandi @sadimon @stormyovent0aster @sn00zl4x @f1fty-f1fty @bloomed-night-flower @madusas-girlfriend @b0nkers-papaya @arandomeroacher @randonamedcl @potabletable @meerpea @luvcalico @chlousp @prettyinblack231 @dindarasuum @elizaboba @ravenlking @reveristmain @lasignoramybeloved @poto-de-michi @sherryuki-callmeyuki @cadit-in-aestus-sidereum @valeriele3 @hu-tqao @reallytired5 @akitsuki13 @queenaveryrules @dia-disappointment @oxzamzu
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twisted wonderland headcanons#twisted wonderland imagines#twisted wonderland scenarios#twisted wonderland angst#twst angst#twisted wonderland malleus#twisted wonderland malleus x reader#twst malleus#twst malleus x reader#malleus x reader#twisted wonderland malleus draconia#twisted wonderland malleus draconia x reader#twst malleus draconia#twst malleus draconia x reader#malleus draconia x reader#twisted wonderland lilia#twst lilia#twisted wonderland lilia vanrouge#twst lilia vanrouge#black sheep
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serial killer!yeonjun and serial killer!reader but yeonjun tries to seduce you but doesnt know you are just as crazy as him, then both of you end up trying to kill eachother before coming up with the idea of working together.
i've been thinking abt this since u first sent it in. anon what the hell. u r crazy (marry me rn.)
warnings: dark content!! mdni + ageless blogs dni, fem!reader, murder, vvv brief smut, knives, guns, they are both insane HFHSHDJ
serial killer!yeonjun picks up women at bars. he likes the ones who come alone — they're the easiest to seduce, knowing that the attention he gives them make them feel good, wanted...he proceeds to make them feel even better by tying them up and fucking them into his mattress. it's the least he can do, after all, knowing what is going to happen to them.
he always switches up which bar he goes to; he isn't fucking stupid, he knows the cops are trying to find him after how many victims he's had. so he switches it up, makes sure his movements have no discernable pattern. so far, it's been successful. there's too much on the line for it not to be.
new night, new bar: he sees you, sitting all alone in your pretty dress, and decides that you're the one. he flirts and talks you up all suave, buttering you up until you agree to take your conversation somewhere more private — his house. all the while, he's picturing what you'll look like when he's finished with you, all butchered up to his liking...
then, you're pulling a knife on him in the middle of you riding him.
it happens after you outright refuse to be tied up. "it makes me claustrophobic," you had pouted, so just this once, he breaks his own rules, only to feel the sharpened edge of the switchblade you'd pulled out from your bra against his throat. a sadistic smile paints your face, but he's much stronger than you, flipping you so that you're under him with the blade pointed towards you. while he gets off on the fear that fills his victims' eyes, the desperate pleas to let them go, you don't do any of that. instead, you smile up at him and dare him to kill you.
for some reason, he can't. for some reason, he lets you go — but then he sees you again and tries to kill you. and again, and that time you try to return the favor. it's a sick little game you've come up with, but eventually things like this get old. they get boring, and neither of you particularly enjoy boring.
so the next time you catch him, the cool metal of a gun barrel placed against his temple, you propose that you work together. he hesitates. another person means twice the risk of getting caught. you seem to know what you're doing, though, so he agrees to your little offer. the rest is history.
there's an odd sort of detachment in your relationship, more business than love, but both of you make it up to each with...gifts. not the traditional kind, no, but victims, all bound and waiting to be slaughtered. it's so intimate, isn't it, to know each other so well you know exactly what they like? both of you think so, giggling and sharing poisonous kisses as you work together to dismember the body of a woman you'd lured back to his place, one that looks somewhat similar to you...
#this is a fic idea in the making#i need to flesh this out more#txt smut#txt x reader#yeonjun smut#yeonjun x reader#dark content#agust.nsfw#asks#anon
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Can we just talk about how genius Gem's task was?
Due to the nature of secret life, it was taking very long for the reds to gain more members, with only one or two yellows dying per session. And after the death of three reds, this progression was essentially set back to before session four.
With just one red, who obviously cares more about gaining teammates than getting kills, it was unlikely that anyone else would die permanently for the next few sessions. This made it very possible that Secret Life could have lasted for well over 12 sessions, with few of them reaching the same standards of chaos as session 6.
Now that may seem like a dream for some fans, but I believe that for most, myself included, this would have made secret life go down as one of the most boring, anticlimactic life series.
Why did Gem's task prevent this all from happening? Here's the thing: it did three important things that may have saved secret life:
The first is that it made session 7 not only live up to, but surpass the chaos of session 6. In total, there were eight deaths in session 6, and fifteen in session 7. Of those fifteen deaths, ten were directly caused by Gem's task. That is more deaths from one singular task than from an entire session with four times the amount of reds as session 7.
This leads me into the second reason. This task created reds. As I mentioned earlier, it was likely going to take a while for secret life to just end naturally with red kills. The reds need to build up a team first before it is wise to knock anyone out of the series. Due to the low number of reds and the difficulty of killing, it was bound to take at least two, and very likely more sessions for the number of reds to reach a point on its own where it could start snowballing out of control. Gem's task took that entire process of building up reds, and did it all in just one session. Six yellows died in session 7. Six.
The third and final thing that this task did was severely limit the amount of regen that could happen in the session. How so? It presented two possible outcomes for the session:
Everyone (except Martyn) dies at least once, but gains ten hearts/items
At least one person (other than Martyn) stays alive, causing nearly everyone to die and fail their task.
In both possible outcomes, absurd amounts of hearts are lost, never to come back. And since the second outcome was what happened, it created a session in which everyone (except two people) died and nearly everyone failed their tasks.
Because of these three factors working in perfect harmony, one task was able to shorten Secret Life to what is likely to be a reasonable length, and create one of the best sessions of the Life Series, ever.
And that last part is, in my opinion, the biggest takeaway from this. Not only was it incredible series design, it was also just really fun to watch.
TL;DR: The task artificially shortened the life series to a reasonable length through three spectacular means, undoing session 6's prolonging of it twice over, and was overall just really fun to watch
#maybe i do like writing essays#1000 notes and i show this to my english teacher lmao#<- not actually doing that#secret life#trafficblr#life series#secret life spoilers#traffic spoilers#life series spoilers
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eren jaeger x f! reader
words - 1k
Marks on Eren's back catch the attention of Jean and Connie (and also the rest of the guys at the gym)
content - 18+, descriptions of sex, back scratches, reader is called hot and is referred to as a girl
thanks to @jeanboyjean for encouraging me to write this! :)
"Fuck, Eren, what happened to you?" Connie laughs, elbowing Jean to get his attention, their eyes widening as they look at the dark headed man in front of them.
Eren paid them no mind, listening vaguely to their laughter while he focused on getting his gym shirt out of his bag, swapping it with the t-shirt he'd already taken off.
"Seriously Eren, what the hell is up with your back?" Asked Jean. "You must have had one hell of a night last night for your back to end up like that…"
That caught Eren's attention. He swivelled around, arms already half inside his gym shirt, ready to ask Jean what the hell he meant by that, when it dawned on him.
You'd been at his place last night, you'd decided to crash there after the movie the two of you had seen at the cinema, since it had ended pretty late. It had taken all but 10 minutes before Eren had you underneath him, your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist as he drilled into your tight cunt. He had been wanting you all day, he'd been thinking about how badly he needed to feel you clenching around his cock. And you were never one to disappoint him.
It must have been right before Eren was about to cum that your hands had found their way to his back. Your whines had increased, your voice barely able to say a single word, and he had known you were close, the same as him. But he must have been too worked up to notice your nails digging into his flesh. Too overwhelmed by the pulsing of your pussy to realise you were dragging your nails down his back.
But he realised now. The laughter from the guys was more than enough to make him understand what you'd done to him.
"Oh my god Eren, your girl must have some killer nails to leave marks like that!" Connie exclaimed.
"There's no way y/n did that, you guys do realise that would have to mean this idiot was actually good in bed?" Jean teased.
Connie let out a roaring laugh at this, and as Eren looked around he realised that all the guys were agreeing. Marco stood to his left with a wide grin on his face. Armin was on his right, a blush covered his cheeks but the corners of his lips were curled upwards. And Reiner and Bertolt were both staring at Eren wide eyed, although the latter was at least showing some semblance of embarrassment about the whole thing.
"Oh fuck off, Jean-boy. You could be twice as good looking as you are now and still not get a girl as hot as mine." Eren retorted. He pulled his gym shirt over his head and shot Jean a glare.
"Pft, yeah right." Jean rolled his eyes. "My game is way better than yours, besides, did you even know how to kiss before y/n?"
Eren's eyes narrowed, he took a step towards Jean, and Armin attempted to grab his arm, but the dark haired boy shook him off.
"As if you're any better Jean, didn't you think cum was stored in boobs until like… last year?" Marco said, laughing.
Jean's face flooded with heat, the blush covering his cheeks completely. The gym changing room erupted with noise, all the guys laughing over each other as Jean tried—and failed—to defend himself. Connie snorted, barely able to contain himself, as he sank to his knees after a failed attempt to grab onto Armin for balance. Even Reiner and Bertolt were unable to contain themselves, both of them clutching their chests as they laughed. Marco seemed more than happy with himself, thrilled to take any opportunity to tease Jean, and to stop the obvious argument that was bound to happen if he let Jean continue to poke fun at Eren.
The events of the changing room were long forgotten by the time the group met up again that evening at the bar—at least they were for Eren. It was the usual Friday night drinks outing, everyone was there. Mikasa and Sasha even managed to save a table big enough for the whole group to sit at.
You found yourself squished between Eren and Marco, you were semi checked out of the conversation, focused on what you were going to order next, when the sound of your name pulled you back in.
“Hm?” You asked, looking around at the boys in front of you.
You felt Eren tense ever so slightly, his hand coming to rest on your thigh, sending shivers down your spine.
“I asked if you wanted to show us your claws. We all saw your handiwork on Eren’s back at the gym this morning...” Connie’s voice was a little too loud, likely due to the last round of shots Reiner had bought, and it had gathered the attention of the whole group—even a couple people from the table next to you had turned their heads your way.
“What are you—ohh…” You felt your face grow hot, you turned to Eren and saw that he had a shit eating grin on his face, so you knew he wouldn't be any help.
“C’mon kitty, we know those claws have gotta be lethal, let us take a look.” Jean grinned.
You rolled your eyes, “I think maybe you should focus more on your sex life than mine, Jean, that red head at the bar has been staring at you since we arrived and you haven’t even noticed yet…”
Jean’s head whipped around, and you let out a laugh.
“That's my girl.” Eren said. He then angled his head down and spoke quietly for only you to hear, “you should definitely take some photos of what you did to me when we go home tonight, angel. And then after we’ve fucked maybe you could take another photo, so I can see just how good I made you feel…”
You let out a shaky breath, and nodded your head.
#ughhhhh eren you're so sexy to me#want to mark his back like thissss#eren jaeger fic#eren jaeger x reader#eren yeager x reader#eren jaeger x you#eren yeager x you#sage.fics
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Robin takes the bag of frozen peas from Steve with a silent thank you. Wrapping it with a tea towel and resting it gently against her throat. Hoping that the swelling would go down and the bruise would fade fast, even though she knew that it wouldn't.
It could be worse. She could have broken bones like Max or torn skin like Steve and Eddie. She could have stopped being able to breathe for more than a few seconds. She could be dead.
Instead, here she is nursing her wounds, as they were, with her best friend who is severely worse than her looking after her. Not in a hospital, but in his house. Because her parents don't need to know this happened to her. The same way she hid the burns from the rope that bound her wrists in the bunker. She'll hide this from them too.
Steve has his own frozen bag of vegetables to his neck, leaning back on the couch to alleviate some of the pressure on his abdomen. Heavily bandaged abdomen. They probably should have gone to a hospital, seen if he needed stitches. But the stubborn asshole didn't want to go, so they didn't. Claimed he could take care of it himself. He always did.
"Is this what it's like?" Robin asks, voice raspy and weak. "Frozen vegetables and empty houses. No doctors hovering over you or government agents secretly experimenting on you."
Steve lets out a small grunt, shifting himself to look at her better. "Pretty much."
Robin snorts, wincing a bit when she does. "Now I know what the great Steve Harrington uses as a cure after battle. Frozen vegetables. What would the people say?"
"That I should go to a hospital, probably," he replies, exhausted.
"At least there's no concussion this time. Or black eye. Nothing messing up this pretty face," she pokes his cheek gently. "You should really see someone about the bites though. Make sure they're not infected."
Steve tries to swallow without wincing. "I know. Just needed a moment to breathe. Too many people at hospitals."
She knows what he means. After the past week, they needed a night before the craziness continued. Until life was forced to move without them wanting it to. Where the consequences came and reality sat in. Where people almost lost were slowly brought back, and they were forced to move on like nothing happened.
They had the scars to remind them. The nightmares. The anxieties that never went away. Their lives were changed. Things can't just revert back to the factory setting.
"How have you done this four times?" Robin asks without really wanting to know the answer. "I can barely wrap my head around doing it twice, let alone four."
"The first time didn't really count," he mumbles. "I just came in at the end. As for the others, you just get used to it. Weird shit shows up, you hit it with something, and it goes away. Until it doesn't."
Robin lets out a long breath. "Sounds like shit."
"It is." His eyes fight to stay open, head halfway fallen onto her shoulder.
"I'll take first watch, you need your sleep." She'll probably crash right after him, but he didn't need to know that. She could be the strong one for a second if it meant he could rest.
Steve takes a deep breath. "You sure."
Robin grabs his wrist, absentmindedly feeling for his pulse. Half relieved when it still thumps under her fingers at a normal rhythm. "Yeah. Get some sleep, you deserve it."
"Thanks. Wake me up if anything happens." He barely finishes the last sentence, eyes finally closing and breaths slowing to a soft, even pace. Robin still able to feel the thumping of his veins through her fingers.
For a brief moment, she can pretend that this is all normal. That this was just a normal night where she and her best friend fell asleep on the couch after watching a movie. After a totally normal night of fun, that didn't risk their lives.
Where there wasn't a bat full of nails resting against the coffee table. Or an ax somewhere in the kitchen waiting to be cleaned. Where she isn't counting the seconds between his breaths or making sure his heart is still pumping. Making sure he's still alive.
Where she'd be able to fall asleep and not risk waking up screaming. Covered in sweat and barely able to breathe. Her wrists wouldn't hurt and her throat wouldn't burn with every breath.
The now warm bag of peas falls off her neck as she leans back. She takes it off and places it to the side, along with Steve's. Pulls him a little closer so he knows that he's not alone. And she does too.
Then finally, she falls asleep. Hoping tomorrow the sun will rise on a better day than today. Time will move on and people will get better. And she'll never have to go through this again.
#stranger things#platonic stobin#post season 4#stranger things ficlet#steve harrington#robin buckley
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In Unrequited Love - Part 2
AN: When I say that writing this part had me feral, I don't mean it lightly. This part ended up being over 2000 words, blimmin heck. It had me losing sleep, losing sanity, and my grasp on reality and going insane. All in good ways of course! It got angstier than I originally intended but, man, I'm a sucker for it. I think you guys are too ;)
Part 1 for those of you new here
Warning: angst for reader's lacking self-preservation, silly dummy, but Donnie is also a dumb-dumb, so you're as bad as each other really.
Donatello x Reader
Every explanation you can come up with to try and disregard your feelings for the tallest of the turtle brothers has only been met with more anguish. First, you theorised it to be some kind of miscommunication with your emotions, that you had merely misread a deep level of friendship as a new crush. Then, you tried to reason with yourself that it was a rebound - a re-focussing of such feelings onto someone else who likes spending time with you. Neither holds enough weight to get out of this funk, however. You’re chain-bound.
Then begged the question: what are you to do about it? Realistically, what can you do about it? Not once have you had the courage to even try and say something to Casey, so what makes you think this is any different? If anything, it’s worse. Not only because Donatello is so helplessly in love with April, but because you are so much more hopelessly in love with him. Even the way you used to feel about Jones wasn’t this overwhelming.
You hate it. You hate it so damn much and, yet, you can’t stop yourself from spending most of your free time in that forsaken laboratory. There’s a saying that keeps coming to mind whenever you find yourself aiding him with inventions and experiments: fool me once, shame on you - fool me twice, shame on me. You certainly feel the fool and more so after a particular incident. A word used candidly but it felt like an incident at the time. The details are foggy but you believe it had something to do with the daughter of The Foot - Karai - and a new robotic toy of hers. Donnie had come in and saved the day, earning a kiss on the cheek from his crush by the end of it. To say that it stung is an understatement.
Nothing appeared to change after that day other than the joy your new infatuation must have been riding on since. You hadn’t even taken note of how it’s affected you. You don’t take notice of it at all. Yes, you still regularly visit the lab but less so to help out. As of late, it is you who is being helped. A habit which has become the norm where the purple-clad turtle finds himself patching you up. Almost every time you see him, there’s a new bump, bruise, or scratch that needs tending to and every time he does what he can to make it better.
Today is no different. If anything, it has to be the worst of your afflictions that he’s seen to date. The first few times were viewed in mild hilarity but he’s not finding these frequenting successions of being your first aider funny anymore. He currently has you sat in his desk chair, knelt down and worriedly looking over your ankle. The pigment of your skin is only slightly discoloured but it’s clear from the way you hobbled in a few moments ago that it can’t handle much weight right now. Carefully, he holds a cold compress against the affected area, earning a jolted hiss from your person. He winces himself and mutters a quiet apology. Some silence follows until he decides he needs to know exactly what you did to warrant such a bad injury.
“What happened this time?” he asks as he continues to inspect the contusion, making sure nothing is broken beneath.
“I just slipped whilst I was coming down the ladder,” you admit casually. “Think there’s been some rain recently, so it’s my own fault for not wearing grippier shoes.”
Your answer is marginally concerning for two reasons: it hasn’t rained for at least a few days now and he’s seen the way you work - how careful you are when you’re helping him with mechanics or measuring various chemicals. This isn’t like you. Retrospectively, he hasn’t known you long but he likes to think you’ve hung out enough for him to discern that you aren’t typically this clumsy. He’s even detected a drop in your mood. You don’t crack out as many jokes with him, nor have you spoken much about Casey. The band of his mask creases over his furrowing brows and he slowly looks up at you.
“Is everything okay?” he inquires carefully, mindful of the potentially sensitive question. “You seem… out of sorts lately. If it’s something to do with Casey-”
“It’s not Casey,” you interrupt, rather abruptly he notices. Sighing, you quickly attempt to correct yourself and slump into the seat. “I dunno. It might be. I think I’m just done with all the love stuff at this point.”
You end on a bitter cadence, one that has Donatello sinking. His heart breaks knowing that yours has been taken away and trampled on by this mess. It well and truly hurts him to see you this way, to hear that you’re energy has been depleted because of this. Then, like a jab to the gut, it all comes to fruition. The ugly canvas decorated with the hard, cold facts paints this horrifying image before his mind: your physical pain is a manifestation of that from within. Whether it’s intentional or not, it’s still an alarming prospect. Swallowing past the nausea permeating and rising into his throat, he takes a moment to reflect on how best to help you. He doesn’t want to be the one to tell you that you should keep pursuing that ragged hockey puck-lover but he also doesn’t want to see you in such disarray. He can’t bear the thought that you might get hurt worse than this.
With a steadying breath, he takes your hands in his own and smiles up at you sympathetically. “Don’t say that. You never know. There’s still time for things to change in your favour.”
If only he knew how much that gaze of his torments you; how his hands make yours burn cold. You silently beg of him to not look at you with such warmhearted affection, that the very thing he believes to have ruptured your heart is not Casey but is him. Part of you wishes that you could get angry and blame this on him for being so sweet, funny, and an overall joy to be around but that wouldn’t be fair. The reality is that you can’t blame anyone, not even yourself. Feelings can’t be forced nor can they be changed. Your eyes drop to the two sets of hands that rest on your lap, knowing you can’t stand to stare into those puppy-dog maroons much longer.
Unenthused, you hum, “Guess so. Seems like you’re a little more on the hopeful side after that kiss on the cheek, huh?”
He glances away with an awkward smile. Everyone may assume that his head must have exploded when that happened and it would have done were it not for a certain change of circumstance. April kissing his cheek was ironically what led to him realising he loves you. At first, he was entirely confused. Why didn’t he get that round of butterflies? The heart palpitations? There wasn’t even a wild glee that he would have expected with something that monumental happening. Maybe there wasn’t supposed to be. He would have to look into it, he thought, and test it to figure out what was going on. An experiment that didn’t even make it to the drawing board.
No more than an hour later, Donnie’s tending to a burn on your arm after you spilt boiling coffee on yourself; the first domino to fall in this onset of injuries he would serve medical attention to. Seeing you hurt struck something fierce within him. He had this sudden urgency to protect you, care for you, and look after you. Then, followed a quick daydream of holding you in his arms, close to his body and safe from any and all extraneous variables that could threaten you. It flashed before his eyes with such volatile ammunition he almost stumbled over the dressing work he had been so carefully wrapping around your forearm. That’s when he realised and, boy, he couldn’t look you straight in the eye for the remainder of that day.
Perhaps, in a way then, your words ring true. He likes to believe he’s more hopeful. He likes to think he stands a better chance with you with how often you hang out and how well you get along. That’s why he doesn’t want you to give up on love. Regardless of where your sights are set, if you’re done with love, that’s his chance gone completely. He wants to keep that hope alive in you as well. Even if it’s for someone else, he doesn’t want you to be devoid of that sensation. It can hurt but it’s still a beautiful experience in his eyes.
Realising your smaller fingers are still overlapped in his, he blushes - a blush you assume to be the result of your conversation. He finally withdraws his grasp lest he risks you experiencing the backlash of his suddenly clammy palms. It’s about time that he secures your ankle in a bandage, anyway.
Ignoring your question altogether, he laughs nervously and clears his throat. “Well, the good news is that nothing is broken. Most of the fall was taken by your ligaments, though, so you won’t be able to walk properly for a few days. My recommendation is you rest at home in the meantime.”
You toss your head back into the chair and groan out lethargically, “If only I could replace it with a robotic one, hm?” Along with your overly attached, love-sick heart. “Would make things easier.”
“As long as you know to come here for repairs. Robotic limbs need just as much care and attention as organic ones.”
Glancing away, your lips turn up at the sides bashfully. There’s a smile. A genuine smile. He’s been waiting all day - a few days - to see one of those. What a dork. You can only hope your ankle does a fast job of getting better. At least that means no school for a few days but it’s still a bother. Simultaneously, that means no visits to the lair until you’re healed up. The thought is upsetting but you can’t help thinking it might do you some good; a bit of distance to calm the erratic, painful ache of the suffering muscle that sits behind your ribcage. Distance and distraction. On the topic of distractions, a particular object of interest has caught your eye from across the room: a small, rectangular mound hidden beneath a thin layer of cloth.
“Hey, what’ve you got under this?”
You don’t even wait for an answer, opting to propel yourself over to his desk with your good foot. The office chair glides along the floor and, before he can stop you, you’re already pulling the tarp from this mystery item. For someone who’s just injured their ankle, you’re annoyingly quick to feed curiosity’s temptation. Your snoopiness would reveal a narrow box, that which you open too, further revealing a slim sliver of chain with a charm sitting comfortably in the centre of it. Said charm is a purple turtle and you don’t have to think hard to figure out that this is a gift for a certain red-head. It’s magnificently crafted if not a little corny but you can commend his boldness.
“I’m sure April will like it,” you say sweetly enough that it masks the disdain bubbling in your throat. With a quiet sigh, you return the necklace to its resting place, fingertips brushing over the top of the box. “If she doesn’t, though, I… think it’s beautiful.”
Truthfully, that’s the only appraisal he’s looking for, especially seeing as he’s made it for you. He should take the opportunity whilst he’s riding on that high. You like it. He should just say that it’s for you. Get it out there and proclaim his feelings if not at least allude to them but the melancholy behind your eyes chokes him out of trying. It’s not the right time. Your heart is fragile - far too fragile to be here any longer, you’ve decided.
“Thanks again for helping out,” you mumble, swallowing past a lump whilst you attempt to stand. “Better make a start on resting, huh?”
Quickly, he holds an arm out in case you need to grab onto it, face scrunched and brows raised from the middle. “H-Hey, wait! Can I at least walk you back home? That manhole cover is gonna be a struggle let alone the ladder to get to it.”
Cursing the kindness of this tall terrapin would be cruel but he just makes it so darn difficult to not fall more victim to your feelings. You would love nothing more than to take his offer. Wholehandedly, you would within a quarter of a second. There’s just one teeny tiny problem, however.
“I appreciate the offer, Donnie, but it’s still daytime,” you remind him.
In his overzealousness, he had missed that fact. A seemingly obvious detail that he wouldn’t typically forget were he not so worried about you. He is not letting you go back to the surface alone in your current condition - both the physical and mental. Wishing to be human isn’t a naturally occurring thought but it’s currently a prevalent desire. How is he meant to ensure a safe trip home if he can’t go topside? Just as begins formulating a plan, a certain dark-apparelled miscreant passes the lab. Donnie can’t believe he’s actually going to do this but it seems like the only option.
“Casey.” He raises a hand dilatorily to catch the teenager’s attention. “Any chance you could escort (Y/n) home?”
Casey takes one look at your wrapped ankle and throws out two finger guns with a wink. “Jones is on the case.”
He understood the assignment quickly enough at least. Hooray for him. Donatello is prompt to smile when you cast him an estranged glance. You reckon he’s trying to wingman you, which is almost hilarious. If only he knew. Your “escort” temporarily donates you his hockey stick as a makeshift crutch and places a hand between your shoulder blades as extra leverage whilst walking you out. Donnie may have been lying to himself before. He doesn’t want you to be devoid of love but he doesn’t want your love to be directed elsewhere like he had initially tried to come to terms with. It should be him. He wants it so badly to be him. Pitifully, he watches you leave, hearing Casey remark something along the lines of “you’re in safe hands” before the two of you are out of earshot. Such friendly, flirtatious comments from your prior crush would have had you in a tizzy but, weirdly, you find comfort in them. It’s a short moment of silence for your incessant pining.
Now, all there is to do is hope that your forced rest isn’t met with bedridden wallowing for the oncoming days.
I know the first kiss on the cheek moment doesn't really fit with how it goes in the show but that's the point of fanfiction, is it not? :P
Hope you enjoyed! I'm gonna lie down now, holy jeebus
#tmnt#teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt 2012#donatello#donnie#2012 donnie#tmnt x reader#x reader#donatello x reader#angst#part 2#casey jones#april o'neil
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Mitusya, Hakkai and Mikey when they find out that their darling already has a boyfriend, sorry for the trouble
this has been in my ask for a little while thank you for your paitence!!!
TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, VIOLENCE AND MANIPULATION
Yandere!Mitsuya Takashi
Knew about your boyfriend from the start and is neither impressed nor deterred. He's seen the chump you're wasting your time on and he isn't in the least bit worried.
He knows for a fact that he can take him in a fight, and if it come down to it he'll probably just beat him until he agrees to leave you alone.
But Mitsuya is smart. He knows he doesn't have to do much to push you into his arms. He can make problems when there are none.
Your boyfriend hates the fact that you're so close to Mitsuya, and he plays into this. "I mean, its just weird he's so posessive of you, Y/N. Like you aren't even allowed to have friends? That's just a red flag."
He's so good at gaslighting your man and making him look like the bad guy that when you break up its like you dodged a bullet instead of walking right into one.
"Its ok Y/N, he didn't deserve you. Not like I do."
Yandere!Hakkai Shiba
He doesn't like cheating, darling. You two were soulmates, bound to each other by the very fabric of the universe itself. He knew the day he saw you and you smiled at him that you were a match made in heaven.
But the fact that you went and got yourself someone new? When you had him? Well it was almost unforgivable. Hakkai knows better though. You were seduced by this other man.
Hakkai is a real man. He can fix this and restore your honor. This other guy had better be prepared for the beating of his life! Which of course he isn't, since our blue haired giant is a complete beast when he wants to be...
Your boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, barely puts up any fight. He doesn't even try to stay with you, doesn't even give you any explanation at all for why he's suddenly breaking up with you.
And you're left so sad and heart broken until the very next day when you receive a letter from someone referring to themselves as your Soulmate.
I took care of the problem, Y/N. Now no one can get in between us. Don't make the same mistake twice. -Your One True Love
Yandere!Manjiro Sano (AKA Mikey)
"Boyfriend? Hahaha, noyoufuckingdon't."
Ya it's not going to fly with Mikey, he's going to make sure you and that guy are over and that your boyfriend is never going to so much as look at you ever again.
He doesn't bother beating the shit out of your supposed man, he has underlings for that. Also he doesn't want to kill him. I mean he really does, but he doesn't want to scare you too bad.
Makes sure you're with him when it happens and makes sure you're having a really good time. Or at least forcing you too. "See name, isn't this fun? I'll let you have a bite of my icecream~ Let you go? Don't be silly. We're having fun."
When he finally does release from your date (AKA day of captivity) you hear about how your boyfriend had ended up in the hospital, after having been jumped by a rabid gang.
He won't even see you in the hospital, his parents are out right screaming at you saying this is all your fault, and now even your friends are scared to around you.
"Aww~ Y/N... Don't be sad. You have me! And I got lots of friends you can meet and hang out with. Only when were together though, which will be all the time, so you'll never be alone!"
Was very outright and in your face about how he wanted you for himself and how he was going to make it happen. Silly you for not believing him when he said; "No one else can have you."
#yandere tokyo revengers#yandere manjiro sano#yandere mikey sano#yandere hakkai shiba#yandere mitsuya#yandere mitsuya takashi
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