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mcondance · 11 months

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come close; hobie brown

getting high and talking about anarchy with some old 90's shit playing is a crazy way to fall for someone. but it happens.

pairing hobie brown x Black!afab!fem! reader

contents lots of weed, different terms for weed (mary jane, cess), talks of killing politicians (y’all r both anarchists so.), masturbation (both you and hobie), making out, fingering, riding, missionary, mating press, creampie, unprotected sex (they're horny man dwbi), dirty talk, cervix kissing, lotsssss of praise, porn with plot (sorry i love plot 🙏🏾)

words 4.7k.. back on my longer fic shit!

warnings reader wears lipgloss, barely proofread so if you see any mistakes pls shoot me an ask!, umm i use the n word once!, i’m also,, not that great at writing his voice yet so.. hope it’s at least sorta accurate :3

extras the form i wrote this in is kinda,, unique igs but it flows rlly well i feel.

song shoutouts special thanks to lipstick lover by janelle monae, come close by common and mary j. blige, and green eyes by erykah badu!

signing off happy father’s day to hobie 🫶🏾

—

not quite plug!hobie, but hobie who always has weed, who you smoke with the first time you buy from him.

you usually don’t smoke with randoms, but you hear some old 90's rap playing from inside his car, and he invites you in when you comment on it.

"what you know bout this?" you ask with a smile.

"a lot, actually. you wanna smoke and listen?"

not quite plug!hobie who's fine as fuck as he sits opposite you in his ride, tall and darkskin with cool ass hair. wild ass accent and even wilder style, but he makes it work. his music taste adds on to his overall allure.

but his political views? god. the charm in the shape of a little 'a' surrounded by a circle hanging from his mirror lets you know that he ain't like these other niggas.

he's an anarchist. so far, you're the only anarchist you know. it's so rare to find someone who has the same values as you.

not quite plug!hobie who's car you leave with music recs clumsily typed into your notes, and someone to talk about politics with, though you're too shy to text the pretty boy with the good weed, so you're sure it'll never happen.

not quite plug!hobie who texts you when you get home to make sure you arrived safely.

"driving while high ain't safe, ya know? you at home?"

"i've done it before. i made it home."

not quite plug!hobie who's so nice to you, complimenting your outfits and hair, even noticing when you meet him the 3rd time with a new style.

not quite plug! hobie who you find out has been giving you discounts when your friends ask if you ever bought from him after their recommendation, and you run them in on the details. you think it’s just cause y’all smoked the first time you ever bought from him and you bonded over political views and music. you don’t think nothing else of it.

not quite plug!hobie who you find yourself thinking about more and more often, ever since that first time y'all smoked together.

not quite plug!hobie who finds himself in the same predicament.

not quite plug!hobie who answers the door on your 6th buy in a pair of red sweats and a tight white t-shirt that hugs his lanky frame, hair tied up with a blue shoe string. he invites you into his crib, citing reasons of having no one else to talk to about his views with. after all, it's the first time you both have time to sit and talk and listen to music instead of a quick deal since that first time.

not quite plug!hobie who you get faded as fuck with, this time sharing a joint on his janky couch, heavy hands brushing against each other with each pass. he tries to ignore the aching in his very core every time you speak your mind, your aligning politics driving him crazy.

you mirror him, shaking off the.. arousal?.. no, it can't be. you can't be getting all heated just cause a man is an anarchist. whatever. just ignore it.

not quite plug!hobie who laughs when you tell him straight up, “people aren’t killing politicians anymore. that’s our fuckin’ problem.”

"really? you're wild. but i get it."

"course you do." you nod, taking another drag of the joint. erykah badu's "green eyes" is playing quietly in the background of your convo. hobie starts laughing.

"what?" you smile.

"song's called green eyes, right? well we got red eyes." it's corny and wouldn't be funny if you two weren't high as shit, but you are high as shit, so it's fucking hilarious.

not quite plug!hobie who's eyes linger on you as he pulls laugh after laugh out of your chest with his snarky little jokes.

not quite plug!hobie who walks you to your car after your smoke session, telling you to get home safely. he passes out after his head hits the bed, that after smoke sleep being some of the best he's ever had. he tries to chase you out of his mind as he succumbs to the cess.

not quite plug!hobie who lights a joint and then pulls his dick out the next day, hard and heavy, and strokes it thinking about his pretty little client— friend? whatever — hips stuttering as he wraps his hand around his thick base. he's tried to shake you off, went all day distracting himself with this and that, but it's not working.

not quite plug!hobie who cums in white spurts splattering on his chest to the thought of making you cum in a room filled with smoke, some old r&b playin as he dicks you down the way he's been wanting to since the first time your pretty ass came to him asking for some weed. he wants you bent over on the end of his bed, eyes low and red while he fills you up and fucks you good, gives you his dick like he feels you so rightfully deserve.

not quite plug!hobie who you seriously can't stop thinking of. last night's smoke session has you on edge, so you light another joint, but weed always gets you horny, so when you slip your fingers into your panties and touch yourself to the thought of the pretty darkskin boy with the piercings and cool hair pushing his fat cock into your pretty hole, you blame it on the mary jane sitting pretty in your veins.

the fault lies in the mary jane for making you think about him laid on top of you, talking you through it as he damn near kisses your cervix, his wiry hands roaming your body. the fault lies in the mary jane for having your legs shaking, imagining your pretty plug folding you in half and ruining you, leaving you and your cunt sore and satisfied and dripping his cum.

not quite plug!hobie who cleans up while telling himself that he can't do this again, that you're not interested in him.

not quite plug!hobie who you block out of your mind as you shower. what you did wasn't right. it won't happen again.

not quite plug!hobie who you don’t buy from for a minute, cause you’re trying to stop smoking so much, for a while. you still keep in contact with him, though. daily texts, funny memes, and of course talks of anarchy. one day, you call him “bee” instead of hobie, and it sticks. he likes it.

not quite plug!hobie… who you fuck yourself to again, this time slipping three fingers inside your greedy cunt to satiate the need for him. it’s almost every night, and it’s a different fantasy every time.

in the backseat of his car, bent over on his counter, pressed into his couch cushions. your head pressing into your pillows while visions of hobie’s lips pressed to your ear praising you endlessly for being his good girl and taking him so well torment you. you’re insatiable, but when you text you have to pretend like you don’t want his piercing scraping against your clit as he eats you like a man starved.

not quite plug!hobie who has the same dilemma as you.. he can’t even go a couple of hours without growing hard in his sweats, glimpses of you spread out on his bed with your thighs thrown over his shoulders, or you face down ass up, sobbing in pure ecstasy. it’s not made better by y’all’s constant texting, more and more of your personality being revealed to him each day.

you both share one brain, really. and that one brain finds each other attractive, of course, but it’s not just that. it’s not just pure lust. you two have more in common than anyone you’ve ever met, and that sinks ache and want so deep into you that every night and day is spent trying to rid yourselves of it.

not quite plug!hobie who you buy from again almost two weeks later, two weeks that were filled with funny conversations and deep discussions of politics through text. two weeks that solidify the growing feelings you have for each other. this time, he’s wearing a pair of blue sweats and a tight black tee, and his hair is tied up just like the first time you came to his house. this time, brandy’s playing throughout his crib.

you’ve only known each other for about two months, but it feels like longer, for the both of you. you take your seat on the couch as he grabs his stash and his papers, pulling out one paper to roll up.

not quite plug!hobie who sits a little bit closer than he did last time. he smells good. your head is swimming already.

not quite plug!hobie who lights up and then lets you take the first hit, watching you wrap your glossy lips around the joint like he doesn’t wish they were wrapped around his dick instead. you pass the joint to him and settle onto the couch, raking your eyes over his lanky frame, and what you swear is a hard-on. no way. it has to be the weed.

he settles back onto the couch too, extending his long arms on the back. his arm comes up behind your head, and you rest your head on it, smiling dopily when he directs his hazy gaze your way. his playlist must have ended. you're left with him and your thoughts.

“you’re funny, you know?” he says through a breath of smoke, passing the joint to you.

“yeah?” you reply, hitting it again. “everyone tells me i’m just corny.”

“you’re not corny. you’re pretty hilarious, if i’m bein’ honest.”

and there it is again.

not quite plug!hobie whose words light that fire in you again, the fire that you’ve been dousing every night for the past two fucking weeks. fuck, not here. not now. you grab the joint from him in an attempt to push more weed into your system to flush him out, but you meet his pretty fuckin’ brown eyes and they’re low and his lips looks so good and he smells so good and suddenly you’re asking not quite plug who you’re two seconds away from fucking!hobie why he’s been charging you less than everyone else who buys from him and why he invited you into his car and into his house, twice.

and not quite plug who really wants to kiss you right now!hobie can’t even joke and twist his way out of this one. he’s tired of cumming alone to the thought of you. the worst you can do is leave. but the best? god, so many things.

“'s cause i think you’re pretty. n' i really wanna kiss you right now.”

“then do it.”

not quite plug!hobie who tastes like weed and chocolate. the hand that was resting on the back of the couch finds it’s way to the small of your back, fingers drawing nonsensical shapes into it. your hands find his knee and his neck as you press your lips into his. you slide closer to him, and then he’s using the hand resting on your back to push you into his lap, hands settling on your hips as you settle above him, your hands circling around his neck.

“how long?” you ask between kisses.

“since the day you walked up to my car.” he responds quietly, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. he’s quick to trap your lips again.

god, he is hard. and he’s big, you can feel him pressing against the inside of your thigh. you hold your tongue, figuring you could deal with that later. right now, you just need to get out what you’ve been keeping in since the day you two met and you spotted the little ‘a’ hanging from his mirror.

the kiss grows deeper and he grows a little less shy, starting to use his hands gripping your waist to grind you against him. heat floods you when you realize that he's pulling you onto his cock, pressing your cunt against him, separated by the fabric of his sweats and your shorts.

you find his rhythm, falling into the pattern of his soft pushes and presses, a gentle lull of bodies moving against each other that makes you even more comfortable than you already are. soft little groans escaping the both of you, mixing with the smoke and infatuation in the air.

he lets you move the way you want, lithe fingers tracing up your back, hovering over where your hair falls onto your neck. he keeps kissing you for a minute, seemingly frozen. but then he's pulling away to speak, "can i- can i touch your hair?"

you stop moving with a smile. you nod. "yeah. thanks for asking." you kiss him again.

"course, love." he nods, and then he kisses you again. his long fingers snake into your hair, gently and softly. he strokes his hands through your locks, in time with your kisses and the movements of your hips that have started again. hands migrating from his neck, sliding down his chest, laying flat-palmed. your fingers slide under his tee, curling and gripping to pull him ever closer to you.

not quite plug!hobie who could kiss you forever. you could too, but you want more. you need him. so you pull away just a little, murmur "can feel you against me." chills rack through him at your words.

"i know. 'm so hard, darlin'." he pushes his hips up just a little, drawing a muffled whine from you.

"been wantin' you so bad.." you trail off. hobie takes it upon himself to move his hands from your hair to the waistband of your shorts, eyes fixed on yours, watching your every move. you nod, giving him permission to snake his fingers into your shorts, fingers that are met with no resistance.

"no panties? did'ya plan this, doll?" he smiles, slim fingers exploring your wetness, doing what he can with the limited space.

"mhm." you shake your head. "'s more comfortable." he hums in agreement. he circles your clit with his middle finger, dipping towards your entrance to collect more slick. you push down against his fingers, causing him to have to crane his wrist to reach you.

"can we take these off? can't touch you the way i wanna." you blush, averting your eyes to focus on the hand that disappears into your shorts.

"yeah." you breathe shakily, standing up and letting hobie pull them down your legs, hands on his shoulders as balance. your shirt is long, and it falls down to give you some modesty. hobie throws your shorts somewhere behind you before he leans back, giving you space to sit back down.

he looks so fucking good, brown eyes staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky. he reaches out for you, pulling you back into his lap by your hips. his hand disappears under your shirt while his lips find yours again, exploring you more freely this time.

"so wet, doll." he murmurs between one kiss and another, smiling when you whine. his fingers move at different speeds, pressing in different areas and circling at different speeds until he finds a combination that makes you jolt against him, whining "bee."

"thaaaaat's it, love." this time, you don't return your lips to his, instead tucking your head into his neck as you hump shamelessly against his hand, his cock pressing hard and heavy against your thigh. "keep going, baby," he urges, "show me how it feels."

and you do. you shiver and shake and whine and groan in pleasure, pressing kisses in his brown skin as he touches you the way he touched himself thinking about.

not quite plug!hobie who presses his thumb into your clit, sliding his hand farther down to tease your drooling hole. "'s wet, love. g'na feel so good 'round me." you moan loudly at that, at the thought of your fantasies coming true. you cant your hips down, sliding down his fingers until they're seated inside you, stroking gently at your sensitive walls.

pulling them out softly, he curls his fingers, twisting his wrist as you whine and mouth at his neck. "'s okay. you can bite." he nods, catching onto what you were holding yourself back from. you still don't, resign to licking and sucking instead.

until his fingers catch the spongy spot inside you, and your teeth are sinking into the column. "fuck," you damn near shout, pushing yourself onto his hand. he groans in response, pleased to be pleasing you and indulging in the pain you inflict on him. thumb on your clit and fingers playing with that spot, he brings his other hand from your hip to your hair to soothe you, to ground you.

it's sweet, really, his hand in your hair while the other one touches you the way you've been dreaming of. coos and hums meet your ears, soft sounds of affirmation egging you on to let yourself get lost in the pleasure he delivers you. arousal steadily dripping out of your hole, hobie's fingers sliding easier and easier inside you until he can pull out and slip right back in.

"you're so pretty, dove, fuckin' dreamgirl." he murmurs, staring down at your pretty face, arched eyebrows turned down in ecstasy, lips parted. the praise takes you closer and closer to the edge, his deep voice reverberating throughout your entire being, the pangs of arousal in your clit growing harder and faster. you're close.

you're so goddamn close to cumming for a boy you just wanted to buy from. his long fingers reach deep, deeper than you could ever even dream of. “hobie- i- i’m g’na-” you stutter against his neck, hips stuttering against his fingers.

“‘s okay, love, cum. i’m right here.” the rubber band snaps, and you're tightening your thighs around his hand while you shake and shiver, eyes closed tight with soft whines of "hobie, god it feels so good" tumbling from your lips. you tighten around his fingers, too, squeeze him so tight he winces, cause he just knows you're gonna feel so good wrapped around him. he pushes that thought away, though, focused on helping you ride out your orgasm.

fingers pressing into your clit and that spot inside you, he makes sure to milk every last second of your climax, eyes fixed on your ethereal features. aftershocks still racking through you, you finally open your eyes, and he takes it as a sign to gently pull his fingers out of you and wipe them on his sweats, and you shudder at the feeling.

"that was. . so much better than i imagined. n' i imagined it being pretty good." you smile and giggle, placing a kiss on his neck. he laughs in response, raising his eyebrows at your confession.

"bet i'm a better fuck than you imagined, too." the air in the room shifts again, and suddenly you're aware of his cock pressed against your thigh through his sweats again.

"bet you are."

you raise up, kissing him again as your hands find the waistband of his sweats and invite themselves in, meeting his dick that's been hard since you first sat down on his couch. "and i'm the one who planned this? you're free-balling." you murmur against his lips, and he mirrors your words from earlier.

"'s more comfortable, 's all— fuck." he's cut off when you pull his cock out of his sweats and run your finger over his pretty brown tip, dipping into his slit. his hips thrust up, chasing your soft hand. "g'na drive me crazy." he almost whines, jerking against you when you swipe your thumb against his aching tip again.

"just returnin' the favor." you shoot back, raising up to hover over him, swiping his leaking dick through your wetness. he wraps his hand around his thick base, moving in time with your teasing strokes. "you're big." you groan, hesitating to seat yourself on him.

"i know, doll, you can take it though. we'll make you take it." he speaks into your clothed chest, muffled and horny, and you’re sure he means what he says. you drip even more at his words, sticky slick wetting his fat tip.

not quite plug!hobie whose hands are on your hips as you sink down onto his pretty dick, whining into his neck as he encourages you. “you got it, baby, you’re takin’ me so well. god, she’s so wet.”

"she— fuck that's so hot," you moan, eyes rolling back at his words.

"mhm?" he hums.

you don't respond, too busy focusing on his fat cock pushing into you, focusing on the way you both make it fit, exactly like he said you would. finally, he bottoms out, your thighs resting against his sweats.

"g' job, babe. knew you could take me." you jolt against him, his heady words sending another pang of arousal straight to where you two meet.

not quite!plug hobie who you tell to move, raising your hips up as he pulls out, meeting him in the middle as he fills you back up. his hips slot against yours again, and his big chocolate eyes are fixed on yours, gazing upon you in adoration, while your eyes are fixed on where he disappears into you.

"so big, feels s'good. ." you whisper, meeting his gaze. the look in his eyes has chills running down your spine as you raise your hips again, choosing to connect your lips with his again. hobie starts to find a rhythm, now, wrapping his long arms around your waist. you swap spit with him as his hips meet your ass, taking over.

body bouncing with each of his thrusts into your pussy, arms wrapped around his neck. his lips slipping against yours, plump and wet. you both take it slow, basking in the feeling of finally being like this with someone you've wanted since you first saw them.

he fills you up so nicely, thick cock nestled in your achy walls, leaking tip just barely kissing your cervix as he thrusts just a bit harder and you push down a little more.

"y'feel me, darlin? 'm all the way in, at the end of you, god, 'm g'na make you mine." he babbles in pleasure, pushing his hips up even harder. still soft, but firm, and deliberate.

you nod against his lips, hand resting on his cheek. "feel you, bee, feel you in my fuckin' stomach, i swear." you feed off of him and he feeds off of you, kissing and slapping your hips against the others, wild and wanting. "fuckin' me so good, bee, makin' me yours."

"makin' me yours, doll, pussy's squeezin' me like she don't w'na let go."

"don't wanna let go, wan' you so bad." you confess, bringing your ass down onto his cock again. "i— fuck," you sob. his cock curves just right, and with his tip pressing against your spot now, hobie's found new determination.

"that it?" he asks, making sure to keep hitting that spongy patch of skin with every thrust, sheathing his cock in your wet heat.

"'s it, hobie, feels so good, shit." the high has worn off by now, leaving pure emotions and desire driving you two. you get tight around him again, cunt pulsing with every slam of his hips against yours. you feel so good around him, so tight and wet.

"'m g'na—, you're gonna make me cum, bee."

he moves one hand from around your waist at that, sliding between you two to toy with your clit, thumb rubbing wild shapes against the throbbing bud.

"fuck," you cry, grinding against his thumb and down onto his dick.

"you close again, doll? wan' you to wet me up, ma'me a mess," he encourages, big brown eyes fixed on yours like they've been the whole night.

"'m so close, bee, wanna cum for you, wanna wet you up."

"then do it." he mirrors your words from earlier, and the pleasure pulsing through your veins and infatuation swirling around in your blood gets to be too much, and you cum on his cock, still slamming your hips down onto him, meeting his thrusts in the middle. "thaaaat's it, doll." you hear hobie praise through the fog in your mind, bounces turned to messy grinds as you get all tight around him, cumming hard.

"y'alright, love?" he asks, moving your hair out of your face.

"mhm. w'na go again, you haven't come yet." he chuckles at your words, wrapping both hands around your waist and kissing you again.

"lay back, love." he murmurs against your lips, flipping you onto the couch. your back meets the smooth fabric as he lays you down, pulling his tee and his sweats off. you follow suit, stripping your shirt off and throwing it somewhere behind his couch. his watchful eyes fall on your face, then your tits, then your cunt, taking your body in for the first time.

he finds his place on top of you, balancing himself on his elbows as he kisses you again. he reaches down, but you stop him. "lemme do it," you urge, replacing his hand. you line him up with your sopping entrance, nodding twice to tell him to push in.

the stretch is so fucking good, his cock bullying it's way into your tight cunt again.

"fuck, that's it," he curses, watching your face as he seats himself in your once again.

"so deep. ." you trail off, looking down at your stomach, and oh fuck, no way.

"hobie, hobes, look," you urge, and he points his gaze to where you're looking.

"oh, love, look at that. can see myself, right there," he presses down on the bulge he creates, ripping a broken moan straight from your throat.

"fuck me, please," you sob, squirming under him. he nods, understanding, and finds his rhythm easier this time, lean hips slapping against you. your body jolts up the couch with every thrust, choppy whines of nonsensical sentences leaving your mouth.

not quite plug who's absolutely pussydrunk!hobie can't get enough of your cunt, the way you squeeze him oh so tight, the wet squelches of your heat drawing him further into madness. he needs to go deeper, needs to fuck you harder, so he raises up, throwing your legs over his shoulders, leaning back down to bury his cock deep inside you.

"baby, fuck." it's a gritted groan, head rolling back onto the couch as he mouths at your neck, licking and biting at your heated skin. his thrusts are slow and firm, dick kissing your cervix, the slaps sounding out through his living room.

you're both quiet this time around, too blissed out to do anything but fuck, allowing yourselves to succumb to pleasure. every inch of his cock fills you, driving you crazy, driving him crazy too. it's intimate, his lips on your neck, your fingers palming at his back, limbs tangled together. and you can feel it building up in you again.

"'m g'na cum, hobes." he moves one of his arms, bringing his thumb down to rub at your clit, still mouthing at your neck. he lets it happen this time, doesn't urge you or change anything he's doing, and you coast into your climax so gratifyingly that you almost cry, squeezing him tight once again. now, your focus is on making him cum.

"wan' you to cum, hobes."

"gotta pull out, love. we ain' even put a rubber on." he realizes.

"no you don't. 'm clean. jus' fill me up, please." in your right mind, you wouldn't let him, but you're not in your right mind, and neither is he. so he cums with a groan, shaking as he spills pressed against your cervix.

the air's.. different now, satisfied and calm. you both lay there for a while, until hobie's picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up.

after, he lights another joint that you two share tucked under his covers, hugged up like a couple.

not quite plug!hobie holds you as you both fall asleep.

#hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x black reader #hobie smut #hobie x black reader #hobie x reader #tw weed #ummmm yeah that happened #hope y'all like it #wrote most of this today :3 #OKAY TIME 2 POST

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faeriekit · 21 days

Text

Feet on the Ground

loose phic phight fill for @oldfashionedbattlehymn

warnings for: murder attempt, discussion of child death

********

Danny wakes up in a garbage bag.

It isn’t as gross as it sounds. Danny’s the only thing in there, and it’s not like the lack of air is going to kill him; he could rip his way out, but honestly, going intangible is just as effective and twice as easy.

And, of course, once he’s phased his way out of the dumpster behind the gas station, Danny is very, very grateful that he didn’t even try. Everything else in there is….eeugh. He shivers.

Well. It’s got to be early morning now—it’s dark. There’s no other cars on the highway. Even the gas station itself is closed, and the stars have already lost their spark.

Time to head home.

Danny wakes up behind the gas station. Again.

…Okay?

The first time, Danny had just assumed he’d fallen asleep somewhere weird while flying around the neighborhood, but a second time is a pattern. It’s definitely not his fault this time either, because there’s no way he would have duct taped his arms and legs together or slapped a gag on his mouth.

That’s kind of. Ominous.

Danny frees himself of the garbage bag first— and thank goodness he doesn’t have to breathe— he floats himself out of the bag and the dumpster, which had…thankfully been given a good scrubbing since last time? There’s some other trash, apparently, but nothing sharp enough to cut through his durable, tape-based bonds. It takes some finagling and some eye lasers for Danny to finally get his arms free.

And. Hoo Boy. There’s no more liberating a feeling than peeling tape off your mouth, even if your mouth skin kind of comes off with it and you bleed a little. But it’s fine! It’s green, which means it’ll heal.

Fabulous. Danny zooms off invisibly into the night, more than willing to put the night behind him.

…Okay, the third time is what makes it more than a coincidence.

Danny shucks out of the bruise-tight ropes around his wrists, torso, knees, and legs, spits out his gag, and flies home. He finally has to give into the inevitable, and attempts the last resort:

“Jazz?” he whispers, slowly rocking his sister in her bed. Jazz mumbles in her sleep.

“Jaaaaazzy…” Danny tries again, trying not to look either too spooky or too imposing. Jazz’s reflexes are such that—

The laser she keeps under her pillow goes off. Danny loses a few millimeters of hair, which means that her aim is getting better.

He doesn’t have any trouble seeing in the dark (or, uh, not anymore, anyway), but it’s easy to see Jazz’s sleepy squint as she pulls herself somewhat upright. More like a shrimp with scoliosis, but, well. You know.

“Whuh,” Jazz asks. “...Danny?”

“Hey,” Danny whispers, a ghost at her bedside. Jazz grunts. “Uh. What does it mean when you keep waking up in a trash bag behind the gas station?”

Jazz blinks. Jazz rubs her eyes. Jazz blinks again, looking more sleepy than coherent but at least somewhat aware of her surroundings.

“Garbage bag?” Jazz asks blearily. “You were in a garbage bag?”

“Yeah,” Danny whispers back. “My legs were tied down?”

“...Danny, were you murdered?”

Danny stops.

“Huh?” says Danny.

“So, if you look here,” Tucker points out, finger not quite touching the glass of his CRT monitor, “That’s when Danny gets murdered.”

There is a collective eeew from the assembled viewers— Jazz, Sam, and Danny, all crowded in Tucker’s room.

“Yeah, Tucker agrees. The light from the black-and-white footage flashes in the reflection of his glasses. “Here’s where he’s tossed in…there. And this is when they tossed him in the dumpster.”

There’s no sound on the gas station surveillance footage, but Danny imagines that his body clanged on the way in. What the hell. Danny got murdered behind a gas station, and he didn’t even notice?!

They watch the archived footage of a Ford F-150 driving off the property, and then Danny’s dead body being unceremoniously tossed in a dumpster. It’s kind of surreal. No one had noticed. There was no one to report the crime committed.

“I can’t believe that guy just clocked you over the head, like that,” Sam points out. “It’s just a regular car jack. It shouldn’t have gotten you in the first place.”

The observation isn’t appreciated.

“Be nice! My brother was just murdered,” Jazz scolds. Danny doesn’t think she sounds as offended as she should be. “Either way, it’s certainly an attempted murder, if not a successful one. We have to do something.”

“…Can’t we just call the cops?” Tucker asks, turning away from the computer. “I mean. Look. That’s proof. We have proof right here.”

Sure enough, there is footage. Right there. There’s Danny’s murder, in 240p black and white.

“Where’s the body?” Sam asks dryly, and. Uh. That’s a problem they’ll have to solve.

Everyone looks at everyone else. No one has a good solution.

“…Do we have to do this?” Tucker realizes at the same second as the rest of them.

Jazz looks at Danny. Danny looks at Sam. Sam looks at Tucker.

Tucker stares back at them, entirely unenthused with the conclusion they’ve come to.

“…Okay then,” Jazz exhales. “How do you want to do this?”

Sam ends up on top of the gas station, a cell phone in her hand.

Tucker, PDA in hand, sits in Jazz’s passenger seat. The camera feed is ongoing and recording for posterity.

Jazz taps her fingers on the wheel of her car. There isn’t anywhere better to hide than down the road and around the corner, so she does, hoping that they’re on the other end of the road from whoever’s killing her brother every night.

Danny is, of course, wandering through the neighborhood.

Losing her baby brother—on purpose—is the worst thing Jazz can imagine. She feels sick. She wants to throw him into the car and speed away, and break every speed limit law in the county on her way out. She wants to pack him in bubble wrap and ship him expedited to France.

But she does leave her brother alone. She lets Tucker look over the footage as Danny roams around town, just as unaware and unsuspecting as his last few outings.

Tucker sees the man first.

He bolts upright, eyes on his PDA. “Jazz.”

Her head whips around. They watch, silently, as someone approaches Danny’s lone figure on the doorstep outside the gas station.

They can’t hear anything. That’s the scariest part.

“Call,” Jazz demands. Tucker does.

Doubtlessly, on the roof of the gas station, Sam is dialing too.

So. Danny knows this guy.

And. Uh. It’s kind of embarrassing; he’d asked if Danny was okay walking home alone at night a few hours before his dumpster wake-up call, and Danny had said it was fine.

Apparently, no, it wasn’t fine. That being said, Danny hadn’t been expecting a guy in a button-up and khakis to be the guy murdering him on the down low. He kind of looks like the dude who sells you televisions and burner phones at a Wal-Mart.

The guy comes all the way over to where Danny is sitting on the thin concrete step of the gas station. His breath fogs up from the weather and his eyes rake over Danny, up and down; down and up.

“Hey,” he says, looking all the world like any other concerned citizen. Danny’s heart throbs. “It’s cold outside. You need a ride back to town?”

“…No,” says Danny, who doesn’t.

“Your mom okay with you comin’ home late by yourself?” the man asks nervously, hands going to his hair.

Danny thinks about how many times he’s woken up in the dumpster. He thinks about seeing his own body on the camera tape. Prone. Dead.

“You still keep a car jack in your passenger seat?” Danny asks instead.

The man freezes. An attempted murderer he might be, but he’s not exactly an Oscar-winning actor. “What?”

“The car jack,” Danny repeats. He doesn’t know if he’s mad the man keeps targeting him, or whether he’s grateful Danny’s the only one who’s died so far. “It’s got a lot of sharp corners. They hurt, you know.”

The man…carefully laughs the statement off, but he looks. Nervous.

Danny doesn’t really need to confront him; he only has to stall long enough that Tucker or Sam can call the cops, so that they can see this man’s face and get him on the record. But.

There’s a part of Danny…

The man looks so human. Flush with blood. Solid enough to break. Fragile enough to be made broken.

Danny still resents being made dead. This man didn’t kill Danny—not in any way that mattered, but he’s an easy target.

He doesn’t breathe. The man watches a boy sit in the shadows of a building where he’s been dumping bodies, and Danny can taste his fear.

“It hurt a lot,” Danny says, and he isn’t referring to waking up in the bags every couple of mornings in the last few weeks. “It hurt so much. I was screaming.”

The man is silent.

“Do you like to hear the screaming?” Danny asks, suddenly curious. Did he care, if Danny had screamed, or if he had been too unaware to notice he was dying? Would he have cared, if there were others more breakable than Danny that he had hurt?

He doesn’t answer.

“I don’t like it,” Danny confesses. In a horrible way, it’s easy to tell his would-be murderer about his death—unlike Tucker or Sam, who witnessed it, or Jazz, who loves him, this man can’t be affected by Danny’s take on his own death. In fact, if he is hurt by the thought of Danny’s death…good. It’s better if he is. If there is remorse in him. “I don’t like to hear screaming. I screamed for so long, and so loud. It felt like forever.”

The man’s hands curl. He steps back.

Danny can’t help but to frown. If he leaves, the whole point of calling the cops will be for nothing, and he’ll be warier of coming back to where Danny’s body was dropped. “Where are you going?”

The man takes another step back. Danny rockets upright. He’s on his feet in seconds. “Weren’t you here for me?” Danny asks, genuinely confused, arms outstretched. “We’re here. You dumped me here over and over again.”

“Shut up,” the man snaps, startling the both of them with his volume. “He—you’re not real. You’re… Be quiet. I have real things to get done tonight!”

Danny’s dead heart throbs. Is there another dead kid? Did Danny let another kid get killed in Danny’s place? “Do you?”

The man loses his voice.

“We’re already here,” Danny points out. He steps closer—closer to the truck that drove his dead body around town, further from the dumpster where his body had been dropped. The disposal hadn’t been a funeral, but it’s closer than anything Danny’s ever had. “You’re here. I’m here. Aren’t you here for me?”

A choked breath. Danny gets closer. The ectoplasm in his skin is too warm and too cold—but he has no idea what he looks like from the outside. Is he glowing? Is he see-through? Does he just look like any other dead kid: a little too cold, a little too pale?

They’re eye to increasingly shorter eye. Up close, the man just looks like any other guy. Shaved in the face. Wrinkles around his eyes. A nose. A mouth.

Danny’s not afraid of him. His head tilts. “You’ve already killed me three times. What are you going to do now? I’ll just come back again. I won’t even notice. I died. I know what you look like—I know how to find you. It’ll be easy.”

The man’s pupils dilate—

And then there’re hands on Danny’s neck. And. It’s kind of painful, but Danny doesn’t have to breathe. So. He just kind of…pretends to be hurt?

He’s meant to be stalling for time. The cops are coming. All he needs is time.

So Danny makes some somewhat dramatic sounds and kicks out with his feet, because a fight lasts longer than a passive victim. He lands a hit to the man’s stomach, and another to his chest—he doesn’t drop Danny the way Danny might have expected, but Danny isn’t going to run out of air, so this can last forever until the man lets go. Or does something.

“Stop— coming— back,” the man snarls, and suddenly sounds nothing like the dudes who man the tech counter at the Walmart. “I got you— you should be gone!”

Danny is gone. But he’s also here. And he’s also been gone for a very long time, and he’s also getting choked out by a guy in a gas station parking lot. It’s been a rough few hours of waiting for this dude. He might as well make it worth it.

So maybe his body turns a little translucent. Just a little. Just enough to see the streetlight through his skin, probably, and the hazy road behind them.

Getting thrown to the concrete hurts, but, you know, not as badly as getting tossed into a wall by Skulker on a rampage. Danny’s barely going to be bruised after this.

The guy runs to his car, and Danny frowns, scrambling back up, and, wait. Wouldn’t having bruises be better? As evidence? They better not heal too quickly, or else that’ll be it of his physical proof.

“Where are you going?” Danny asks, more perplexed and angry than anything. Isn’t he supposed to try to kill the witness??

But the guy hauls butt into the cab of his truck— and then the lights go on and the tires start spinning, the engine roaring to life.

If Danny wasn’t actively on camera at the moment, it would be easy to fly after the car. As it is, he’s pretty fast, but he’s not quite quick enough on his feet to chase after a pickup truck careening down the highway in the dark.

The man’s gone in a few seconds. Honestly, Danny’s kind of annoyed about the whole thing. It would have been nice for it to work.

Sam climbs down from the roof of the gas station, phone in her hand. “No, I just— he choked out my friend and drove off! Send someone over here already!! You— do you need the license plate again?!”

Danny just looks at her. Sam covers her phone’s mic with a hand: “They’re saying five minutes,” she mouths.

Great.

Danny hunkers down, throat bruising, and Sam sits down beside him. They wait.

By the time the cops pull into the gas station, the guy’s more than out of sight. Sam’s the one who takes the lead on dictating their story. Danny sort of doesn’t realize how out of it he is until someone tries to throw a shock blanket on him. He almost hits the guy square in the face— and Sam’s the one who has to catch his arm.

Uh. Oops.

Jazz and Tucker roll in, hardly pretending to have not been nearby; Jazz wraps her arms around him, and Danny lets her.

Sue him. It’s late. He’s tired.

“...And I can’t believe you weren’t able to get down the road in time to catch a man who choked out my best friend,” Sam snaps, which, aw! Danny’s a best friend. The cop she’s attempting to strip down for parts looks less sympathetic than Danny feels. “You’re barely a ten minute drive up the highway! What were you doing, meandering?”

“No,” the cop grits out, eying Sam like a bug on his shoe. “We were telling the officer down the road what to look out for.”

Apparently, jamming the gas down hard enough to bust your speedometer gets you pulled over at the speed check.

The night is over before Danny knows it. Someone gets him to the station, someone takes photos of his bruises and takes his statement. Someone calls Mom and Dad and then Danny’s in the GAV, half asleep and exhausted beyond belief.

He falls asleep on the couch, Mom’s fingers in his hair.

It’s not like the Amity Park police tell them anything, but Jazz is the one who finds the report on the news.

She records it on the TiVo for him.

“Eustace Miller, from Tennessee,” Sam reads aloud, knee to knee on his couch. Tucker adjusts his glasses. “Looks like he was already on the run.”

“Or as good as,” Tucker agrees quietly. “Looks like they’re pinning a couple of cold cases to him.”

They watch; there’s pictures of him from his hometown, and from the towns he would visit on his joyride across the country. There were pictures of his family. There were pictures of kids Danny would never meet: kids who were already dead, and who had been for months. Years, even.

They’d looked so happy in the photos from when they were alive.

…Danny could relate.

Jazz turns the report off that night, thumb on the power button. And that’s all it takes for Danny to stop waking up in a trash bag.

#phic phight 2024 #tw murder #tw child murder #tw death #I think that covers it???#wait #tw choking #there we go #Danny works out some of his feelings about dying young #danny phantom #phic phight #this is very quickly being edited and posted on lunch break please bear w/ me #faer fic #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton

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etfrin · 4 months

Text

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — second chapter | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus is his own warning, elitism

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coriolanus Snow meets his tribute and lands on a cage and then a car ride with his girl <33

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 i never tasted orange chicken but since @nowitsmissing likes it, that means it's good and worthy for Coryo to eat

Series Masterlist | Navigation | previous chapter!

“I wouldn't sing a note for you if I were her!” - Coriolanus reminded himself of Tigris's words as he waited for the train to arrive. Besides a handful of peacekeepers, he was the only one standing in the train station, waiting for the tributes to come.

He wasn't going to lie to himself, he was terrified. He wasn't sure if he was breaking any rules as he stood and waited. The academy hadn't sanctioned this, but they didn't tell the mentors what to do or not to do either.

It's not his fault he's getting a headstart.

Though he was surprised that you weren't here, waiting. He glees internally. He had already one-upped you and was going to continue to do so.

Snow lands on top.

He was going to be five steps ahead of everyone. No one can take the Plinth Prize away from him and he's going to make this ‘Lucy Gray’ won't either.

If not a winner, she'll create a fine spectacle for the Capitol, with her snakes and voice. Even if some part of him was terrified of her, leave it to Dean Highbottom that he got an insane tribute.

And of course, leave it to Dean Highbottom that he gave you someone who has actual chances of winning. And of the same district too, as if trying to push them both into a battle with each other.

It was highly annoying. It felt like Dean Highbottom was mocking him with this. Dangling a carrot in front of him and expecting him to take the bait and snap. But he won't. You weren't going to win this, and Dean Highbottom won't be getting the satisfaction of the Snows' falling.

Finally, the train had arrived, and with it came his Lucy Gray Baird. She was a girl with a rainbow frilly dress and a mess of brown curls. She was pretty (not as much as you) and had a certain accent when she came to him, asking who he was.

“I am Coriolanus Snow,” he begins to introduce himself with a warm tone, “and I am your mentor.”

He holds a white rose in his hand, pushing his arm forward to offer it to her. A part of him watches in horror as she spews nonsense and tears a petal from the beautiful rose and eats it.

She eats it and smiles at him, “Tastes like bedtime.”

A part of him was horrified, his mind solidifying the fact that Lucy Gray was truly insane. But a part of his mind went back to yesterday when you had taken off a petal of the red rose.

When you had crushed it between your fingers, the red juices of the petal pigmented your fingertips. He wonders if he could take the digits in his mouth and clear your skin of the taint if it would taste delicious with the flavor of your skin. If it-

His thoughts were interrupted by Lucy Gray (damn her!). “What does a mentor do besides bringing me flowers?” Her voice calls him out.

He tried hard not to frown or snap at her. He controls his voice, depriving it of the annoyance he feels as he replies, “I try my best to help you win.”

She hums in response. And before he could continue the conversation, the peacekeepers came in to sweep the tributes into a truck. He tried to keep pace and asked for permission if it was alright to enter but was ignored. So when a distraction was caused by a tribute trying to run (foolish, foolish boy), he entered the truck.

He was being stared at by them all as if he was the animal, and not them. All of the tributes looked more or less filthy, sick, and District. It seemed like only Lucy Gray bothered to somewhat take care of her appearance, with her bizarre make-up and rainbow dress.

Soon enough, he was pinned by a black boy, named Reaper. Everyone around him yelling to kill him, cheering him on, goading him on. Lucy Gray decided to prove herself to be useful to Coriolanus. She was the one speaking up about how if he died, their families would be hurt and that she might need him.

Despite many protests and not being convinced to leave him alone, they couldn't do anything about especially when suddenly the truck gates swung open, and then bam!

Light sweeps in and everyone loses their balance. Falling onto bare, rough ground, landing onto a cage. Coriolanus barely managed to stand up before he realized where he was. A zoo, a fitting place for district animals but not for him. Not only that, he was surrounded by people and cameras.

With his luck, this was probably broadcast live. He felt panic rush in his veins, his mouth drying up and his hands getting sweaty. He was going to make a fool out of himself in front of all of Panem, Sejanus, and You.

No, wait, you were there. His wide, panicking eyes find yours. Just like him, you were in your academy uniform. But you were outside the cage and he was in it.

Never on the same side. You and he.

He could feel his body shaking, an anxiety attack beginning with his breaths becoming shorter and shorter. Just then he could see you form the words, ‘Own it. Own it, Coryo.’ He nods in reply, his mind quietening as he becomes focused on a task.

The Capitol wanted a show, he was going to give them one.

He snaps off the stem of the rose and places it on Lucy Gray's ear. He will never know how your eyes glared at him for that action. He takes her hand his, swallowing the disgust about the fact he was touching District.

“Lucy Gray, let me introduce you to my neighbors,” he said as he dragged her in front of the cameras. The girl had been smart so far, if she knew what was good for her, she would continue acting like that.

He goes near Flickerman, the guy with the microphone and you were standing there beside him. Your arms crossed in front of your chest, your eyebrows raised in an unimpressed way. He only shrugged in response before giving his attention to the cameras.

He lets Lucy Gray sweet talk to the camera. She was polite and playful, playing into the hearts of the Capitol citizens with ease. Then the cameras turn to him, and before Flickerman asks him why he is in the cage. He isn't sure what to answer.

As if you could sense his panic, you immediately take the attention of him with your reply. “That's Coryo for you. Always making an impression. You should look forward to him. And his tribute,” your eyes turn to look at Lucy Gray, a hint of poisonous hate in your look that was hidden by the fake warmth of your smile.

“And you should be looking forward to my tribute too, Jessup Diggs.” You added as you stole the show with your sweet words. The broadcast ended with Flickerman praising you for your encouraging words despite the fact you and Snow were rivals.

He grits his teeth as he is dragged into a car by the peacekeepers. He supposed he was going to be taken to the Academy. He sat in the back seat, waiting for the car to start. He wished he would go there before lunch began, he hadn't breakfast. He couldn't have those damn cabbages again, he would rather tie the shower curtain around his neck.

The car door opens and you slip inside, sitting beside him. His breath hitches as he takes in the scent of your perfume. The heat of your body sweeps into his as your arm brushes against him. “You're crazy,” you said, not looking at him but the ruins of the Capitol outside the window. The car had started to drive back to the Academy.

“For getting a headstart,” he replied, “it's not crazy if it's smart.”

“Smart,” you mock, you turn to him, your face twisted in anger. You spit out, “It's not smart if you die, Snow! Those animals could have done anything to you! During the ride! During the cage! Do you think the cameras or the people would have stopped them? Fuck no and for what? A headstart!? It was stupid.”

Coriolanus blinks as he sees your childish tantrum. He was sure it was because he was going to be the talk of Panem, and not because you had genuine concern for him. He doesn't reply anything to you, despite feeling offended that you called him stupid.

He had been caught off guard, but he wasn't stupid. He furrows his eyebrows but keeps quiet. The silence was heated, and awkward. But it continues to persist, that's until his stomach growls, reminding him of his uneaten cabbage soup.

He felt his body flush in embarrassment. He begins to think of excuses to explain the loud growl but before he can even think of anything, a box is handed to him. You had taken something out of your bag and just set it on his lap along with a plastic spoon.

“It's not poisoned,” was the only thing you said, your eyes now back at the window.

“I sure hope so,” he replied, his voice controlled and his mind glad that you didn't glance at him to see his red face.

He opens up the box to see rice and orange chicken. He devours it as manner fully as he can. It took him a lot of self-control not to moan with each bite. It was that good. Perhaps his mind was subconsciously biased because it was by you. He didn't linger much on that thought.

But his touch did linger when he handed you back the box. He didn't thank you and you didn't ask for one. Neither of you said a word as your fingers laced together with his.

Neither of you said a word when your hand squeezed his, tightly. A warning not to act stupid again.

Neither of you needed to.

Both of you reached the Academy and Coriolanus stepped out of the car.

Time to face the consequences of his actions.

Next Chapter

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corroded-hellfire · 2 months

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The Boy Is Mine (Red's Version) - Eddie Munson x Reader

For @carolmunson’s writing event! Thank you for hosting this fun and uniting challenge 🥰

Summary: A romantic evening at Eddie’s trailer where you finally put a long-time dispute to bed.

Words: 2.2k

“Mmm,” Eddie moans as he stretches his arms out over his head. His tight back muscles loosen at the movement, having become stiff from sitting in one place so long to watch a movie. This is the third week in a row you two have had Star Wars Date Night and even though you both love it, neither of you realized how sore you’d get sitting in one spot for hours or how many times you would need to get up and use the bathroom during the long films.

Your boyfriend looks down at you, where you’re resting your head on a throw pillow in his lap. He smiles as he gently traces his fingertips down your cheek.

“Ready for bed, beautiful?” he asks.

You roll onto your back to look up at him. A rogue curl falls down in your direction and you take the opportunity to wrap it around your pinky.

“I guess so,” you say.

Reluctantly, you sit up and push yourself off the couch, allowing your boyfriend to do the same. The whole walk down the hallway to his bedroom, Eddie has his hands on you: gripping your hips, sliding them along your waist, tugging at the hem of your denim shorts.

“I’m capable of taking my own clothes off, you know,” you muse as you step into his room.

“I know. I just think I can do it better,” Eddie mumbles against your shoulder, pressing kisses there and up the side of your neck.

“Can I change into my pajamas and then you can grope me? Does that seem fair?” you ask.

Eddie chuckles and takes a step away from you. The moment you move further away from him though, he grabs his chest and acts as if your distance from him is literally killing him.

“Aw, damn,” you mutter as you pick your bag up from the floor and set it on Eddie’s bed. “Looks like I killed my boyfriend.”

The overdramatic metalhead drops to his knees, making the thin walls of the trailer shutter, and crawls towards you as if you’re an oasis and he’s been in the desert for days.

“Need…my…girl.”

Rolling your eyes at your boyfriend’s theatrics, you tug your shirt off over your head. Eddie’s eyes go wide and watch you like a hawk as you take off your bra and jeans as well. You slip an oversized Metallica t-shirt on and put your clothes back in the bag. Something pink and sparkly catches your eye and you perk up.

“Oh!” You pull out a small notebook, covered in stickers in all its glittery glory.

“What’s that?” Eddie asks, finally standing up from the floor. He tosses his own shirt aside and undoes his handcuff belt.

“Just something to prove to you that I’ve been right all along!” You point the notebook at him like it’s an accusatory finger as he strips down to his boxers.

“About?” Eddie asks. He grabs an old yellow scrunchie you left over a while ago and ties his hair back at the nape of his neck.

Instead of answering him, you sit down on the bed and turn yourself until your ass is up against Eddie’s pillows. Then you lay back and kick your feet up to rest against the wall, leaving your body at a ninety-degree angle.

Eddie situates himself the opposite way, his body lying the typical way with his head coming to rest right next to yours.

“This,” you say as you open the notebook and begin to flip through the pages. Eddie tilts his head up to try and get a look but all he can see is swoopy handwriting in black ink scrawled across the white pages. “is the diary I kept in fifth grade.”

“Oh God,” Eddie says, running a hand down his face.

“I found it when I was cleaning my room this morning. Maybe now you’ll believe me!” you exclaim, and you begin to flip the pages with more fervor. “Aha! Here we are. My eleventh birthday.”

“Babe, you only invited me to your birthday party because you invited the whole class. It’s okay.”

“No!” you groan in exasperation. “I mean, yes, I did invite the whole class but that’s not why I wanted you there.”

“Right,” Eddie says, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, “it’s because you had a crush on me.”

“Ugh!” The fact that he doesn’t believe you drives you up the wall. But now you’re holding proof. It’s right here in black and white—and clearly not in your current handwriting. “Prepare to be proven wrong.”

You clear your throat before you begin to read your pre-teen self’s diary entry.

“Dear diary, it was a pretty great birthday. I got a new bike from mom and dad. Chrissy gave me some new gel pens and Heather got me a Rick Springfield poster. But the best part of all was EDDIE! Duh! I didn’t see him when I cut my cake so later I grabbed a cupcake and punch to bring to him. I found him in my treehouse and we sat there for a while. Together. Just us! I wanted him to kiss me soooooooo bad but I knew he wouldn’t. It’s dumb to think he’d like me the way I like him. I can’t help it though. I just wanna take Eddie Munson’s face in my hands and kiss him until our lips fall off.”

You stop reading when you and Eddie begin laughing.

“See?” you say, nudging Eddie’s shoulder with your own. “I bet you don’t even remember that day.”

Your boyfriend lets out a loud bark of laughter before raising his eyebrows at you.

“Wanna bet?”

The backyard is set up with long tables covered in colorful plastic tablecloths, grilled meats or snack foods laid out for guests to nibble on. The day is bright and sunny, but not blisteringly hot to be outside. It seems like half of your class is in the bounce house as you walk past it. A couple of your friends call your name, urging the birthday girl to come join them, but you have other plans.

In one hand you hold a cupcake and the other a cup of Hawaiian Punch. You couldn’t find where your mom put the extra cups from this party, so you had to settle for the Fairy Princess themed paper cups you had from last year’s birthday.

Squinting to keep the sun from your eyes, you take another scan of the backyard. Some neighbors talking by your dad over by the grill, a few of your aunts walking inside the house with your mom, and kids scattered around the yard like dice thrown across a Yahtzee board. But not the one kid you’re looking for. Still, you don’t give up. He was here before and you’re sure you would’ve noticed if he just left.

As you come to the back corner of your yard, it’s both cooler and much quieter. The shade from the looming maple tree brought a sense of calmness to the small, tucked away area. You take a few steps closer to the trunk of the tree and when you look up you see the treehouse you built with your dad and uncle two summers ago. And hanging out the front entrance of your hideaway fort you see two dirty white sneakers, one looking a little worse for wear than the other.

You walk around to the other side of the tree where planks of wood are hammered into the thick bark; your makeshift ladder. It’s a little difficult to climb with the confection in one hand and a full cup in the other, but you manage to do it without dropping or spilling either. Eddie’s head turns to you as you climb up the hole in the floor behind him. One corner of his mouth quirks into a smile and it has butterflies rushing throughout your stomach.

Determined to not make a fool out of yourself in front of the boy you have a massive crush on, you set the cupcake and beverage down as you pull your body all the way up into the tree house. Once you’re securely up, you scoot over to sit next to Eddie. Your legs dangle next to his out what could be considered the front door of the fort.

“What’re you doing up here?” Eddie asks, not unkindly but not exactly warmly either. His eyes never meet yours, instead gazing out ahead, in the direction of children laughing.

“You missed cake,” you tell him.

Eddie looks at you from the corner of his eyes and you realize he’s trying to determine if you’re being sincere or not. Anger settles in your veins and you’re suddenly ready to single-handedly take on any bullies that pick on this sweet boy.

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” Eddie finally replies.

If only he knew how wrong he truly was. It seems like you’re always aware of where Eddie is in relation to you. Whether it be seated behind you in class, down the table at lunch, or halfway across your own backyard.

“Well, I did,” you say, trying to quell the heat in your cheeks at your response. “And I brought you this.” You reach behind you and grab the Hawaiian Punch in the Fairy Princess cup. The reminder of what you’re giving him this beverage in has your cheeks getting warmer again though. “I ran out of like, nice cups, is this okay?”

Eddie takes it from you and raises it to his eye level to inspect the different creatures depicted on it. An amused smile graces his lips, but he doesn’t laugh.

“It’s good. Fairies are cool.”

His response makes you feel lighter as you wrap your fingers around the polk-a-dotted cupcake wrapper and present the vanilla dessert to him.

“And this,” you say.

The boy takes a sip of the punch and sets it down next to him before accepting the cupcake.

“Thank you,” Eddie says softly. It’s the quietest you’ve ever heard him speak before.

“No problem,” you answer, just as quietly.

Slowly, Eddie peels the wrapper from the cupcake and takes a large bite that envelops half the treat in his mouth. As he chews, you notice he has a little vanilla frosting smeared above his top lip. You can’t help but smile as you gesture to the area on his pretty, pale face.

“You’ve got a little…”

Eddie sticks his tongue out and runs it around his lips, cleaning off the mess.

“Actually,” Eddie says, tilting his head as he looks at you, “so do you.”

A frown of confusion creases your brow.

“But I didn’t have a bite.” Your hand goes up and feels across your face. “Where?”

“Riiiiight…” Eddie swipes his pinky through the white frosting and dots it at the very tip of your nose. “There!”

The way your face crinkles up makes Eddie’s heart beat a little faster. And when your laughter joins in, Eddie swears he’s in love.

“I can’t believe you thought I didn’t like you,” Eddie says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Honestly, I thought you liked Chrissy.” You roll on your side and nudge Eddie’s earlobe with your nose. “That’s why I tried to copy her look as much as I could for a while. Didn’t work that well, but I tried.”

“Chrissy?” Eddie asks, tilting his head to look at you.

“Mhmm,” you affirm, not meeting his eyes. “Actually, I thought maybe you liked her again last year when you guys were chemistry partners. Or maybe that you’d never stopped liking her. I mean, she is really pretty and the sweetest girl, and—”

Eddie stops you with a gentle hand caressing the side of your face. He turns on his side so you’re nose to nose and slowly swipes his thumb across your cheekbone.

“Aw, don’t be like that. That’s not even true. I didn’t like her last year. Or in fifth grade. Or ever. I’ve liked you since the fifth grade, though.”

You slip off of the bed and rotate yourself so you can lay by Eddie’s side. He tucks you under his arm and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Sorry,” you say softly. “Guess I had a throwback moment after reading that adolescent angst.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like I never get insecure.”

“Or jealous,” you add, but with a small smirk.

“I guess, yeah,” Eddie agrees, cheeks flushing pink at the admission.

“And possessive,” you say, tightening your grip on your man.

Now, Eddie has an amused expression on his face as he studies you.

“And you like that?” he asks.

“It’s hot,” you explain bluntly with a shrug.

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly and presses his lips against your temple, leaving them there for a moment.

When he reluctantly pulls away, he reaches behind him and turns off the light. The moment he’s back down beside you, you’re clinging to Eddie like a koala bear. He doesn’t mind one bit as he holds you just as securely.

After a little while, his eyes start to slip closed. But before he falls fully asleep, he feels your leg slip in between his. Your knee lifts until your thigh is pressed right up against his cock. Suddenly, he’s not so sleepy anymore.

“If you don’t stop, we’re gonna have a problem,” Eddie grumbles out, making you giggle.

“I would hardly call that a problem.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic

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sukunas-wife · 4 months

Text

Part 4

1 / 2 / 3 / 5

“Morí!” Snapping your head to look at him, “Get my robes!” It didn’t take long to get into the robes you had preserved for so long. It was a Junihitoe you wore often before you became a mother and had to have better clothes to not trip every time you chased after Yuji.

Placing a hand on Mori’s shoulder, “I’ll make this quick.”

It was an instance and Morí was stumbling when you found yourself in front of Yuji’s school. This is where you traced his cursed energy too. It was almost in shambles, you panicked feeling two things, Yuji’s presence was faint, Sukuna’s undoubtedly had been liberated and reincarnated. Leaving More at the bottom he nodded knowing his silent mission was to find either of the two and let you know immediately. Standing on the very top level of the school, you rushed towards the edge, the wind catching your robes and hair, the sound of fabric rustling in the wind. You saw him, Ryomen Sukuna, you were excited to see him, your husband but panic set in when you saw a black haired boy and no Yuji. That was until you heard Sukuna screaming “WHERE ARE THE WOMEN THE CHILDREN.” That’s when you came crashing down on him, Hidden cursed energy would make you an invisible woman. Right when your foot connected with his back everything slowed down. As soon as your foot was flat against his back you saw his malicious smirk, the intent to kill, until you released a large amount of cursed energy in a single pulse sending him flying off the edge and crashing into the ground. You stood there watching him laughing, shoving himself up he turned to you almost in disbelief when it registered.

“Y/n?” His gruff voice made you shiver, “Sorry it’s not the women and children of the world here to now at your feet RYOMEN. It seems like you need to be reminded of your place.” His brow dropped and he grinned making his way back to you.

“Naayy I’d say it’s you who should remember your place is by m-“

A white haired man broke up your reunion, you eyed him, upset when he had a hand on your shoulder, holding you near the black haired kid. Brushing his hand off he seemed cocky, you looked at Sukuna, he was gone, it was Yuji… rushing over to Yuji you took his face in your hands eyeing him seeing the slivers under his eyes, Ryomens presence was in him, “Damn it.” Yuji held your wrists, pulling your hands from his face, “Stand back mom, he wants to talk to this guy.” You turned to look at the white haired man, “Yuji, I’m begging you not to comply with this man.” He gave you a sympathetic smile, “Mom please.” You were antsy, you knew that Uniform and you’ve heard of that man. He was an anomaly, Satoru Gojo of The Six Eyes.

“NO YUJI.” Your voice was firm and your stare hardened on him and he looked shocked. He faltered, he looked lost, he looked past you to the ones behind you before he looked you in the eye. “I’m sorry mom.” He stepped back and it all happened so quickly.

You watched as Sukuna tried to fight this man. Looking down and away no one could see the pained expression when you squeezed a talisman in your hand “Damn it… Yuji, you don’t know what you just started.”

————-

“NO,” your objection was irrational when you slammed your hand on the table, “That’s MY SON I won’t let you execute him.”

The people now known to you as the higher ups started murmuring until the old man spoke up, “Why does your opinion matter? As we see it all lives are expendable at the expense it saves others. If your life is preventing us from saving more lives, affairs can and will be arranged.”

Standing up you were enraged, “IF YOU WANNA ARRANGE AFFAIRS I'LL SAVE YOU THE TROUBLE OF BREATHING.”

Gojo Satoru laughed, finally sitting up. “I say we suspend the execution, you wanna get rid of Sukuna’s presence so badly, let the kid eat all 20 fingers and then execute him.” He sighed content, “It's like all the higher up’s have shit for brains if not a single one of you even thought about it. The kid is a once every thousand years case and you wanna waste it because he ate one finger?” He laughed picking up one edge of his blind fold, “Maybe all these years are catching up with you and filling you with bullshit.”

Your eye twitched. This man just wanted to use your son, “where the hell is Yuji, I swear I’ll kill everyone here and tear your entire school apart if that’s what it takes to find him.”

You were feral and the life of you, you couldn’t feel his or Sukuna’s presence. Worries start to set in and you felt sick in your stomach. The last time you felt this way was when a practitioner told you Yuji had a fatal disease he wasn’t going to make it.

“Satoru who is this woman, why would you brin- Lady Y/n! My Lady’s name is y/n and I urge you to speak with respect.” You looked over your shoulder to Morí with a smile, “Thank you Morí.” It was shocking how you went from threatening to kill a man to smiling kindly, it caused whiplash how you turned to the man with that same look Sukuna used to use, “Now, I’ll give you one more chance to let my son walk free or I start snapping necks.”

Some extra spoke up saying “I don’t think you realise your position… uhm Lady Y/n? Was it? You’re a human among sorcerers, what your little servant is being paid to be with you to tell you about what’s going on? You’re in no position to state demands and make threats empty ones as i-“ your hand was held up copying the same motion you had seen Sukuna make. No one noticed anything until the man’s face slipped.

“Just in case all of you don’t understand. I’m very much in the position to make demands and threats. You will all understand, not one of you here is in any position to deny ME. So, If I have to stand here and take you all out one by one to get my point across…” you placed your hands on the table leaning forwards staring straight into the old man’s shadow casted eyes, “I will.”

————-

You were studying the black haired kid who was standing outside the door with you. Yuji and Gojo had entered the room because Gojo wanted to talk to him privately. Right now Yuji should be picking up Wasuke's ashes. Mori was standing off behind you waiting, you sighed looking down when the door slid open, “Fushiguro!” It hit you why he looked so familiar, then Yuji saw you. He walked over slowly, hugging you and laying his face on your shoulder, “I’m sorry mom I had to.” You nodded your head, “It’s alright Yuji, you did what you felt needed to be done…” you saw the sliver under his eye and you saw that all too familiar red eye. Pressing a kiss to Yuji’s forehead, a mouth formed, just opening to say something when you gave “Sukuna” a look and he frowned disappearing.

“Yuji.. I think it’s time I tell you- ah ah ah, we gotta save that! For another place! We should get Yuji Itadori here and settle into his dorm! Don’t worry mama we have a place for you tooo! Higher ups think you're a threat now that they’ve seen a glimpse of what you can do.” You gave Gojo a Look when Yuji pulled away from you to look up at you, “What you can do?”

Side eyeing Gojo as he let out a childish laugh, “Sorry I didn’t know it was a big secret.” It was fully intended he disrupt your moment just to rile up the situation.

“Yu,” you saw Sukuna’s eye open rolling to look at you, seeing all the emotion you needed in a simple look, now isn’t the time for that, “I uhm, I have a lot to explain to you later when we get a chance to speak privately.”

He doesn’t know a thing about cursed energy, he wouldn’t understand a thing right now. He looked up at you brows furrowed with a slight pout, “I..I guess so..”

Turning to Satoru, he seemed equally amused, his hands shoved in his pockets leaning forward head tilted, “Great family reunion over let’s get started.”

————-

“Wow.. this place is- great! Usually we’d let the staff stay here when they visit from the sister school but you get this nice cosy place all to yourself, your lonesome self.., it’s not far from the dorms and you get your own kitchen!” He motioned over dramatically excited to the dusty kitchen. “…yeah great, a great big mess..” you looked over to see Mori sigh pulling back his sleeve and grabbing an equally dusty broom, “I’ll get started Lady Y/n, I’ll have it ready by night fall.” So what is he? Servant? Man maid? Slave? Little sub you drag around.” You were unamused eyeing him. “I took Morinozuka in when I found him as a sick hungry child in my original city. I took him in not having the heart to leave a kid to die in the snow.” “And what’s with this Lady Y/n Cra- Mom!” You turned to the door after hearing Yuji just to see him sliding the door open with a bright smile, “I don’t if Gojo Sensei told you but my room’s right next to Fushiguro!” You smiled at him “That’s Good sweetheart, we’re about to clean up here if you wanna go ba- I’ll help move some stuff out.” He entered immediately to help Mori move some boxes out of the way.

You watched until you looked over at Gojo, he was staring at you, thumb pressed on his chin pointer finger tapping his lips, “y/n y/n y/n” he sighed, “I hate making an accusation without poor but I get the feeling you really are hiding something. You used a curse technique but you don’t exactly have a cursed energy presence. Megumi told me that you managed to land a pretty impressive hit on the King of Curses. So I get the feeling you're not just some modern day sorcerer, what is it? Suppressed cursed energy? Or maybe,” he leaned close his face entirely too close to yours, you could feel his breath, “you found a way to hide your cursed energy…” he stood up laughing “But that’s absolutely ridiculous.”

Rolling your eyes you became smug, leaning your head back side eyeing him, “there’s a saying, Satoru, a girl never kisses and tells. So even if I had found a way to hide cursed energy you wouldn’t hear how out of me.”

————-

“I'm leaving.” Yuji was wide eyed, clinging onto the back of your shirt, “..don’t go…” you shook your head no, “please…” you could hear the shake in his voice before you rolled your eyes, “Yuji…” turning around to face him, “I’m just going to pick up some stuff I’ll be back!” He clung to you rubbing his face in your chest, “don’t leave meeeee.”

You put a hand on his head, “I don’t know if Gojo will let you go, so you need to stay and take a class or something.”

He pouted looking up at you, “Bring me week-weekly Shonen yes yes don’t worry.” You kissed the top of his head, “Go I’ll be back later.”

He smiled and you didn’t miss that red eye opening up to look at you. “Bye love you mom.” He turned around running off waving back.

“Lady Y/n… you know how this could end if you don’t tell either of them what you know soon.” Staring at the stone path you couldn’t help but want to ignore Mori. “Mhmm, I’ll have to do it soon, I just don’t know when soon is…”

I hope y’all like it 🥹 I hate plot jumping so it’s a bit slow in this part

Also some tags didn’t work 🥹🥺

Tag: @needsleep3000 @lunafrisk303999 9 @ang3lz-lov3 @christinerose380 @dl-yum @yumieis @bellinghambby22 @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @amitiel-truth @kundere20000000 @r0ckst4rjk @maybe-a-bi-witch @kouyoumarryme @wannabewolf @lunaizhere @futureittomainn @raiiny-night @3ve88

@t4naiis @blkmystery @the2ndl @too-pretty-to-live @v-sh @officialjellydoughnut @catmouseggy @f1uveryysblog @icantsleeplol809 @wsp1st @ivysenpai3 @babyqueen17 @lupita97lm @oh-gods-its-a-dragon @nxxrxm @avyannasstuff @nameless-mushroom-warrior @fullwriterpoem @nanamisbigassschlong @queen-luna-007 @alonelyvagabond @pupbistro @clxvrs @dangerous-girls-world d @saiyara05 @isagivinny @sanzusmom @honeybachira @iwantosleep @sizzlingsongblaze @theirbitxch @sakuxxi @mercymccann @simpforyoubitch @certainduckanchor @domainofmarie @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @bluusugar

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tenjikyu · 3 months

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𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴 - 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ bonten!executives x manjiro’s son!reader , male!reader , izana lives bc fuck it we ball & he adds character to the fic , bonten all lives together in a massive penthouse just like my rockstar!reader fic bc that’s such a fun idea , reader is a very “ ion gaf ” character , reader is not biologically related to manjiro , reader has suffered through childhood abuse , more fluff then angst , going to make a part 2 .

❤︎ the day manjiro sano found you, helpless and starved, he practically convinced himself to ignore you.

❤︎ alas, his big brother didn’t share the same sentiment, quickly walking over to you and overwhelming you with questions.

❤︎ izana talked your ear off, and all the executives present could see that you were pissed by his presence.

❤︎ deciding it would be better to just leave you be to die of starvation, he takes izana’s hand in his own before dragging him away.

❤︎ you barley crossed his mind after that.

❤︎ until he found you in an alleyway, drenched in blood that was certainly not your own.

❤︎ you were wielding a simple thin kitchen knife, and you were clearly distressed.

❤︎ looking over your shoulder, you notice the man’s presence behind you, and get in an offensive position, ready to attack need be.

“what happened?” the boy with frosted skin asked you, staring lifelessly at the rather large man that had a slice to his throat.

“he followed me back to the alleyway after i borrowed some apples from the store next to his. when i told him to leave, he didn’t.” you explain, glaring at the corpse next to you.

“and so, i had to take matters into my own hands.”

you seemed almost indifferent to the stench of blood, your eyes spoke a million words to manjiro. it was as though this was an all to familiar scenario for you.

“come boy, i’ll get you a change of clothes.” the man before you almost orders you. scoffing, you race to him and grip the knife to his throat.

“like hell i’m going anywhere with you.” you spit at the man, completely oblivious to just how dangerous he was, not that you would’ve cared regardless.

it’s a kill or be killed world, and you weren’t going to become apart of the former. not again.

manjiro only sighed, waving your hand away from him.

“come, or do you want the cops to find you? you aren’t getting anywhere dressed like that. if you’re with me, the police force won’t be able touch you.”

at the end of the day, you had just killed a man once more, and you knew deep down that the strange man in front of you was right.

there was no way you’re getting out of this alone.

❤︎ and so, you allowed the lean man to hold your even thinner wrist as he walks through the streets. it was about 10:00pm by now, and manjiro knew that his brother is probably blowing up his phone as you two walk.

❤︎ regardless, he takes you into a shady thrift shop and gets you dressed. nothing fancy, just a black hoodie with some worn jeans and a pair of 2nd hand converse shoes. not the best, but much better then the rags you were wearing beforehand anyways.

❤︎ as he made his way back to the penthouse, which could easily home more then 15 people, he finally answers his silenced phone.

❤︎ izana is giving him the usual earful about how he “shouldn’t leave without his big brother” and how “anyone could be tracking his movements.”

❤︎ manjiro only holds your little hand tighter as he steps into the place.

❤︎ immediately, 8 sets of eyes land on the two of you.

❤︎ the man with the curly white hair blankly stares into what feels like your soul. he slowly approaches you, before leaning down to his level.

❤︎ “you like taiyaki?”. his eyes crazed and still glaring into you.

❤︎ and thus, you were oddly enough, quickly welcomed into bonten.

❤︎ you were promptly fed and bathed, much to your discomfort, before being placed into one of the many spare bedrooms within their absolutely massive penthouse, right next to manjiro’s bedroom for simplicity’s sake.

❤︎ everything was a first for you, from the endless amount of food stocked in the home, to having adults around you that aren’t about to beat you senseless.

❤︎ after waking up from your first ever comfortable night asleep, you promised to yourself that you wouldn’t speak a word to any of these people.

❤︎ having your trust in the ones supposed to protect you abused and shattered doesn’t get fixed overnight, but that didn’t seem to bother any of the men around you.

❤︎ it has been 2 days since your arrival, and apart from manjiro showing you around, they seemed to mostly ignore your presence.

❤︎ you did whatever you wanted. watched TV, ate anybody’s food without a care in the world, interrupted all of the men from getting their work done and stolen an excessive amount of personal items that belonged to the executives, much to their confusion.

❤︎ some of them used the spare bedrooms as 2nd offices (apart from the one at HQ), and you used that as a way to learn more about the guys who had ripped you from the streets.

❤︎ and from that, you learned then that you were currently residing in the most dangerous home in japan, with the deadliest men in the country’s stolen goods scattered in your bedroom.

❤︎ your heart sunk when you heard someone enter the office you were in, only to find the head on bonten staring at you as you scrolled through his laptop.

❤︎ you only blinked, before slowly backing away from him, attempting to make a run for it.

❤︎ “let’s chat, (Y/N).” he takes ahold of your little wrist once more.

❤︎ fuck.

❤︎ you spent a good 2 and 1/2 hours talking to manjiro. you told him about your home life. how your mother slept around with the door wide open, and how your fathers empty bottles typically collided with your forehead if you took a breath too loud. you told him about how you had finally had enough, and murdered them both with the same knife you held to his throat only a few days ago.

❤︎ you told him about how school was a drag, and the kids there would often laugh at the marks left by your father. ‘the boy with unfortunate parents’ was your title, and you found yourself breaking the noses of the children teasing you. and so, you just stopped going.

❤︎ you told him more about yourself. how you (from what you could remember), were nine and turning ten next year, and what your interests were, heavily limited due to lack of exposure.

❤︎ not once did manjiro interrupt you as you spoke. he sat there, legs crossed and staring at you with an indifferent look.

❤︎ after you were done, he gently pulled you by the waist into his lap and ruffled your messy hair.

❤︎ “from now on, you only listen to what i say. you don’t need to listen to anyone else in the house, okay? just do as i say, and you’re free to do as you wish.”

❤︎ that’s all he says as he strokes your hair, attempting to have you drift off in his protective hold.

❤︎ and it works.

A/N : part 2 is gonna have the reader interacting with the executives, as well as the father/son relationship form between him and manjiro.

uncle izana is gonna go so hard.

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 1 year

Text

Danny slowly lowered himself down onto Luther's newest death machine thanks to his bat themed grappling hook. Making special care not to let his heart beat or his lungs take in breath lest Superman hear him and intervene, he used his intangibility to sink into the machine itself to steal its parts.

Yeah, so a full white outfit wasn't the best choice for stealth, but it was better than dressing like a traffic light. Plus the black gloves and boots made him feel nostalgic. It had been only seven months since the accident that took his life, so much has happened since then.

Biting his lip as he smiled as he began gathering up parts and wires with his intangibility and placing them into his bag. Lastly he grabbed the power source, which-surprise, surprise, is kryptonite.

After he grabbed what he wanted he quickly stuck a note on the maintenance panel of the machine for when someone opened it and discovered it now had a large hollow space, then simply sank down through the floor and flew to freedom.

Danny sighed once he was clear. Or, at least he thought he was.

"Young man." Crud. Danny turned around to see big blue floating behind him in all his red underwear glory. Great. "I believe you have something that doesn't belong to you." The Kryptonian said, looking pointedly at the large chunk of kryptonite Danny held under his arm.

Instead of an excuse, Danny got an idea. "Uh, hello? Recognize the mask?" He said, gesturing to his face.

Superman narrowed his eyes, staring at his face for a few very long seconds and just as Danny was about to cut his losses and book it out of there, a look of recognition graced the heros face. Sweet. "Thats Nightwings mask."

"Yeah. Just smaller."

Superman nodded, then asked, "Why aren't you wearing a bat symbol? I wouldn't have thought you were a thief if I knew you were working with Batman." Danny had to fight to keep his face neutral.

"I haven't decided what symbol I want on my suit yet." And that was true. Danny wasn't sure he wanted any symbol at all. The mark of the bat would mean that he belonged in the batclan, and Danny was a lone ghost. A wandering spirit if you will. He didn't belong anywhere.

Some small part of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Jazz said that might be one of the reasons he's been behaving so poorly lately, but he brushed it off. Superman just nodded sagely. Danny doubted he actually knew how Danny felt and was just nodding along to appear sympathetic. Adults lie, and they lie often. Danny kinda hated them for it.

"Well, I'm kinda on a deadline, so I should get going. Crime to fight, goth furry to annoy, you know how it is." Danny said, waving the arm that wasn't carrying the kryptonite around in the air before using it to readjust the bags strap on his shoulder.

"Alright," superdude smiled warmly, "Tell Batman I said hi." Danny grinned back at him as he jogged away, "Will do!"

That went better than expected. Thank you, Nightwing~! The boy thought to himself as he ran off into a secluded area and turned invisible and flying away.

Just imagining Supermans face if- no- when Batman finally breaks and tells the Justice League about the little menace thats been stealing all his and his sidekicks stuff for the last few weeks nearly sends Danny into hysterics.

Danny still has Robins sword mounted above the fireplace in his favorite safe house in Costa del Sol. Red Hoods "favorite" motorcycle was in its garage and Red Robins wrist computer and chest harness thing were mounded in a glass case next to the first thing he stole from them:

Batmans utility belt.

Sure, its a pain to remove all the tracking stuff from them, but man is he proud of those accomplishments.

Still. Its better to leave Metropolis after he got caught by Superman. Its only a mater of time before someone finds out about the old switcheroo he pulled at the last museum robbery and that combined with the bodies of those creepy rich guys he had killed (human trafficer buyers) well, surely Batman has noticed he had been gone for a while and would pick up on the matching M.O. in Metropolis.

Time to bounce.

#dpxdc #fanfiction prompts #prompts #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #superman #danny being a little gremlin #villian danny #evil danny #he killed vlad but vlad had something set up to out danny if he ever died so danno had to run into a new world #danny has tasted blood and keeps killing evil rich guys who reminds him of creepy uncle vlad #human trafficing is a huge no no to danny and he will hunt you down #danny steals the bats stuff and made them run around in circles. he even managed to trick the bats into chasing one of thier own #by swaping his tracking signal with thiers. the look of confusion on everyones faces when the bat was cornered was gold. too bad he had to #see it on a screen and not in real time #now...what city to hit next?

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buttercup--bee · 12 days

Text

Pretty as a vine; sweet as a grape - Sneak Peak

Notes: There are no real warnings, other than this is an unedited intro to the sex pollen two part fic I'm releasing next mid-week. I hope it's okay! Pairing: Cooper Howard/Lucy MaClean Warning(s): Swearing; Implications of Child Abduction; more to come

One might think that he has full sway in what happens while they travel together, as for once, he’s being nice enough to share information. He doesn’t work well with others, let alone keep them alive when it's all said and done. Cooper usually takes his caps from sales or bounty’s. And he already tried the former on MaClean.

So it’s a wonder he puts up with her deviations at all. Sometimes it’s to help someone, other times it's to explore.

Most times it’s a waste of daylight.

He thinks on this now, glaring at the sun steeped beneath an array of violet, orange, and periwinkle. The clouds are capped in gold, shafts of light desperate to pour over the wasteland. They should have made camp an hour ago, and instead they’re tracking some lady’s missing kid.

The circumstances in which he caves are almost always the same. And this is no different. A local asks Lucy for help, she agrees, he disagrees; it always comes to a head when their knowledge expands upon how the missing item is important, or God forbid, a person is missing.

Had it been a man or cat or some random family heirloom, Cooper would have sent her packing on her own. But of course, potential life means Lucy has to fit herself into the puzzle and solve it. Whether that absorbs his day too or not doesn’t seem to bother her at all.

Little miss morality has to hold the high ground and smother ethics in his face until he can’t do anything but give in and watch her back—it's a broken system.

“Here!” Lucy jogs ahead of him, her pip-boy praising her with a jingle upon reaching her destination.

Vault (#) glowers at them from over the tumultuous desert; darkened steel is lost to vines thicker than his forearm, rich in an assortment of cerulean, egg-white, magenta, and sprawling masses of black roots. It unfurls from the vaults gaping cavern with no obstruction.

Whatever plantlife this is, it isn’t native to the Mojave. Cooper takes another step, his peripheral caught on the slight thrum the plant seems to emanate.

There’s no way the kid went in willingly, right? This has to be a set up. The whole scene practically screams ‘death this way’. As far as the Ghoul is concerned, no child of the wastes is dumb enough to wander from home and into the clutches of uncharted territory. Not any with a brain.

His gut churns, his skin taut in warning, and his fingers flex beside his belt before he gathers himself in a single breath. This ain’t right.

Lucy is only a little ways ahead of him, beguiled by the abstract flora at her feet.

When she looks at him, it's confidence that glimmers in her doe-eyes. “Okey Dokey,” with a slight nod, she readies her flashlight and pistol. Cooper’s brow rises before a word can escape him, and when one eventually does, it isn’t in practice or conscious.

It just comes out.

“Don’t.”

Lucy frowns. It’s small, barely lasts a second, “We already agreed–”

“Something’s not right,” he grunts, patience already worn thin, “either we leave together or I leave alone. It’s up t’ you, sweetheart.”

Many emotions fall over Lucy's complexion. Annoyance, concern, her expression is wide and open and full of disappointment. “You said you’d watch my back, you said since it was a little kid–”

“There is no lil’ kid.” Cooper’s tone is short, both with agitation and refusal to be made a fool.

“You think Alice would lie ab–”

“Who?”

“The woman who hired us,” Lucy’s voice is high, disbelief feathered beneath shock and mild bemusement, “how do you not remember that?”

He grunts, but it’s all she receives as an answer. After a moment, Lucy adds, “She paid us up front. Why do that if you’re going to lie or kill someone?” She's more amused than displeased as her reasons continue to flow. She meets his gaze for a time, longer than he thought her capable of, until his own furrows and conveniently, the fauna is interesting again.

The vault dweller isn’t wrong, he’ll admit that. But instinct has kept him alive all these years, and he’s more obliged to listen to it than some stranger squalling about offspring she had no evidence of.

Cooper coughs, clasping to his belt tighter with the tilt of his hips when he recalls, “Half. She paid us half.”

A beat passes. Then another. He lets the insinuation hang between them until it's thick enough to drown in.

“What are you implying?”

He threw a line, she bit, now all he had to do was reel her in. Make her see sense. Whether it’s a raider's way to lure unsuspecting victims, a Vault-tec experiment gone wrong, or a vacant chamber—he didn't care. Cooper wasn't about to go and risk his life for two hundred caps and a boy he's never seen.

Despite himself, it turns out he would much rather Lucy leave with him, than allow her to fumble such an obvious trap. It’s unlike Cooper to care—if he could name it that. Perhaps there is an attachment, a pull, something just under the brittle surface they call acquaintanceship. Nothing he’s looked too far into. If he does, Cooper is unsure of where it will lead.

The fresh finger sewn to his hand itches, tingles, a fluttering reminder of where he got it; Cooper clenches his hand so tight it burns.

“There is no kid,” he hisses, lurching forward as if to make his point, “no more caps, no helpin’ some lost soul—that’s a death sentence, and you’d be wise to leave wit’ me.”

At first, the silence is deafening. Both edge on what else left there is to say, as Lucy fiddles with the notch of her flashlight. Her eyes dart back from the path they came, the vault, and Cooper himself.

Thankfully, a decision is made without any more pushback.

He's almost prideful, the way she takes one, two, three steps towards his direction—

"Mommy!" A riptide of horror settles against Lucy's trigger finger, spinning on her heel so fast, it gives him whiplash. "Mommy, I'm hurt!"

Lucy is gone, sprinting inside the second Cooper reaches for her.

It delays him, the shock in how fast she had evaded his grip. Long enough for him to think about whether or not he goes after her. His finger itches again, a gentle warmth crawls up his arm when it flexes, more so when the weight of his firearm rests against it.

Dogmeat finally reminds the ghoul of her presence, whining in the direction of Lucy's trail.

"Fuckin' hell," he grunts, cracking his neck alongside his saunter, "this is why I work alone."

----

Again, this is unedited and I'm really sorry if there's any terrible mistakes! I promise it'll be much better post-release next week! I also didn't want to give too much away. Thank you!

#fallout #ghoulcy #vaultghoul #lucy maclean x cooper howard #cooper howard x lucy maclean #the ghoul #lucy maclean #cooper howard

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 year

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Lips of an Angel

➪the one where ethan falls in love with you from the moment he saw you. (requested)

Warnings: blood, mentions of blood, death, mentions of death, character death, angst AF, you've been warned, this is really sad, happy endings don't exist here, oh and swearing

Word Count: 4.2k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

It started at a party.

Well, actually it started with a tap on the shoulder from Quinn.

Ethan turned around and greeted his ‘friend’ with a smile and a nod of his head. When he turned his body to the figure beside her, he was sure his heart skipped a beat. Y/e/c eyes met his and instantly he was drawn to you. In one quick movement, he rid himself of the knight headpiece and held it in his hand, watching as your eyes took him in.

He did the same to you, looking you up and down and sucking in a breath at your attire. The dark red skirt you wore matched the cropped shirt, the linings a pure white fabric. Across your chest was the word ‘CHEER’ and if that didn’t make your costume obvious enough, the high ponytail and adidas you wore surely did.

“Ethan, this is my friend, Y/n. Remember when I told you about her?” Quinn asked, giving him a look and right away he felt his chest tighten. You were the friend that had gotten too caught up in the lives of Tara and Mindy? You were the one she was planning on killing some time before she gets to do the same to the sisters?

“Yeah,” he hesitantly answered her, returning her look with wide eyes. “Yeah, I remember.”

You stood between the friends, rocking awkwardly on your heels. “Y/n, this is Ethan,” Quinn finished the introduction, pushing you towards him. “And he’s going to hang out with you tonight while I go back home and….busy myself.”

Ethan gave her a disgusted look but quickly covered it up by clearing his throat. “We’ll talk later, right?” He held eye contact with her and she squinted at him before giving him a tight lipped smile.

“Yeah, sure,” she hummed before turning to you, placing a hand on your arm. “Have fun! I’ll see you later.”

It was clear that this was part of her plan. She wasn’t dressed in a costume, with the exception of the black cape she wore over a red tank top and dark jeans, so she wasn’t there for the party. She came with you just so she can dump you on him so she could go back home and have a night alone with her boyfriend.

Ethan turned back to you, making you quickly look away from him in hopes you didn’t get caught checking him out. He noticed, but didn’t say anything about it. Instead he held his free hand out to you, grinning at your shyness. “It’s nice to meet you,”

When you looked up at him again, you let your tense shoulders drop and took his hand. You can’t help but notice the size difference, how his hand covered yours completely, and it sets butterflies loose all over your body. “Nice to meet you,”

Unbeknownst to you, Ethan also noticed just how small you were compared to him, and that by itself was enough to make him feel the overwhelming need to protect you and put a stop to his sister’s plans.

It continued with quiet begs.

Behind Quinn’s closed door, he stood in front of where she sat on her bed, looking up at him with crossed arms. “This wasn’t part of the plan, Ethan,”

“Change the plan,” he said desperately, covered from his shoulders down by the black robe. “Please, Quinn, don’t touch her. Please.”

His sister rolled her eyes and huffed out a breath. “You’re such a boy,” she muttered. “Falling for the first girl who shows interest in you.”

Ethan held back the snarky reply that nearly slipped out and instead waited for her to continue, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

She saw the desperation on his face and groaned again, giving in. “Fine,” she muttered. “I suppose she is the only person I can tolerate in the group. But what will you do if she finds out that you’re one of the killers?”

Ethan’s whole body tenses up at the question. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. What would he do if you found out the truth about him? “I’ll figure it out,” he waved it off and stepped closer to her, playing it up as if that was the least of his worries, when in reality, the thought of you seeing this side of him terrified him. “But promise me you’ll leave her alone.”

“I said fine,” she repeated, pushing herself into a lying position. “But you better find a way to convince dad, too. That’s all on you.”

Ethan thanked her and grabbed the mask from where it was hidden in a bag beside the bed. “Are you ready?” He asks, holding the worn out mask in his hands.

Quinn nodded but before she got into position she sat up quickly, giving him a stern look. “Make sure you rough her up a bit,” she said and Ethan shook his head almost immediately.

“What? No,”

“Yes, you have to make it believable,” she pressed, laying back down on the pillows while grabbing her phone. “If she’s the only one who is left untouched after tonight, it’ll draw too much attention.”

Ethan processed her words. She was right, but he didn’t think he would be able to bring himself to cause any harm to you, let alone make you bleed.

Quinn sensed this and sighed. “Look, it doesn’t have to be too hard or too much,” she said, trying to ease him into it. “Just…cut her a bit. Make sure she bleeds just enough to not bring attention to her.”

At that, Ethan hesitantly nodded and gave his sister a tight lipped smile before putting the mask on.

What followed were subtle hints.

Class was done for the day, and you decided to not waste the rest of it indoors and hiding from the killer.

Instead, you wanted to be surrounded by people so you had a less likely chance of getting caught, or killed.

You were in the park, a couple of books opened in front of you on the picnic table. Studying was hard to do before this mess, and it proved to be even harder to do during it.

Sitting across from you was Ethan, who had never felt more tense and nervous in his entire life. He also had a few books open in front of him, but unlike you, he wasn’t paying any attention to them at all.

His eyes were on you while his leg bounced under the table, his nerves beginning to eat him alive.

As you skimmed through the physics textbook, attempting to distract yourself from what was set to happen tonight, you didn’t glance up at your boyfriend, who was becoming paler by the second.

Later in the evening, you, Tara, Ethan, Sam, Mindy, Chad and Kirby were planning on locking Ghostface in the old theater and executing him or her. To say you were terrified would be an understatement, but you were trying to keep your cool and remain as calm as possible.

Ethan, however, could no longer keep quiet. “I don’t want you to come tonight,” he said, making you look up at him with furrowed brows.

His words took you by surprise and you slowly closed the book, sliding it to the side as you gave him your full attention. “Why?”

“You could get hurt,” it was a stupid excuse. Everyone would likely be getting hurt tonight, including him, but he couldn’t think of another reason. He knew you and he knew you wouldn’t leave your friends to fight this battle by themselves, but that didn’t stop him from asking you to skip this one out.

“You could get hurt, too,” you point out, proving to him that his excuse was pretty much invalid. “We could all get hurt, or worse.”

Ethan shakes his head quickly, putting his hands on the table as the frustration begins to take over his body. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, looking around at the other students that paid the couple no mind. “If something happens to you tonight, something that I could’ve prevented…I don’t know what I’d do.”

You gave him a sad smile, reaching over and placing one of your hands on his. “Ethan,” you sigh his name, making his chest tighten at the fact that he was fighting a losing battle. “I feel that way about you, too. It terrifies me to think that one of us could die tonight, let alone get hurt. Think of it this way; if I asked you to stay home tonight, would you?”

I can’t he answered in his head. I have to make sure my sister doesn’t kill you.

At his lack of response, you squeeze his hand, bringing it up to your mouth and kissing the back of it. “We just need to stick together, okay?”

Ethan held your hand tighter and nodded, fully prepared to do anything in his power to stop you from getting on that subway train with him.

What happened next was a massive fail on his part.

In his attempt to split you up from the rest of the group, he accidentally split up Mindy as well. Now he was ten minutes behind the others, with you tucked protectively under his arm, and Mindy a fair distance away from the two of you as her suspicion of him seemed to grow by the minute.

The flickering lights did nothing to calm your racing heart. You tuck yourself further under Ethan’s arm, needing to feel protected for just a minute or two before you throw yourself in the lion’s den. Except in this case, it was a locked theater and instead of a lion, it was a cold blooded killer.

A few minutes passed, and once Mindy moved another meter or so away from the two of you, Ethan leaned down so his mouth was right next to your ear. “It’s almost time,” he informed you. “Last chance to do me the biggest favor ever by not getting off with us at the stop.”

When he pulls back, you chase after him and connect your lips in a chaste kiss. It only lasted a few seconds before you’re pulling away and nudging your forehead against his. “I’m staying,” you tell him for what you hoped would be the final time.

The lights continued to flicker and you noticed that they stayed off for a bit longer than usual, making you furrow your brows. Just as you were about to question what the hell was wrong with them, Ethan was pulling away from you with a curse leaving his mouth.

You watch as he rushes towards a bleeding Mindy, wrapping his arm around her and helping her stand up. He takes her off the train and sits her against a beam, calling out for someone to call 911.

All while this was happening, he finally realized that you were no longer next to him. This makes him look up in sheer panic, his eyes meeting yours as you back further into the train.

In your mind, he was safer here than he would be with you. He would be with Mindy, both of them far away from the killer who would be at the theater. This was you protecting him.

Within seconds Ethan was standing up and bolting it to the closing doors, leaving Mindy with no hesitation. They successfully separated you from him and you give him a sad smile once it begins moving again. He yells something to you and starts to chase after it, ultimately losing sight of it as it disappeared in the darkness.

“Fuck,” he yelled, tugging on his hair before taking off in a sprint to the nearest staircase.

It ended in blood.

A lot of it.

You watch in horror as the killer stabbed Chad repeatedly in the chest, arms and back before letting his body fall to the floor. When they turned to you, Sam grabbed both yours and Tara’s hands as she began to run back towards the shrine.

There, you run into Kirby, who you had lost all trust for due to what Bailey had told you about her history. “One of them knocked me out,” she struggled to say as she moved closer. Your heart fell at the mention of there being more than one killer, but could you really trust her words? Before she could continue, she raised her gun and pointed it behind the three of you, aiming directly for Bailey. “What are you doing?”

“Did you kill Quinn?” He asked, copying her stance and pointing his own gun at her. “Did you kill my daughter?”

“Jesus Christ,” Kirby yelled, tears gathering in her eyes as she looked between you, Tara and Sam. “Whatever he’s been saying to you, don’t listen to him. He’s probably the killer.”

As soon as she said that, Ghostface runs up behind him and Kirby screams at Bailey in a warning, one he doesn’t believe as he shoots her twice without hesitating. The killer stopped beside him, looking at him through the mask. “Great job,” he said as another Ghosface stood to his left. “Both of you.”

“You?” Tara asked, hearing him snicker in response.

“Of course,” he said. “I expected more from you after what you did to us.”

“Us?” Sam questions and watches as the person to his right took off their mask, or rather, took off her mask.

At the sight of Quinn being alive and well, you all stood in shock as she smirked. “You look surprised,”

“Yeah, because you died,” Tara gasped.

“I kinda didn’t, though,” she said and looked at the remaining killer, glaring at the mask they wore. “Thanks for taking so long, by the way. I had to kill Chad all by myself. I thought you were looking forward to doing that.”

Both you and the sisters, as well as Bailey and Quinn waited for them to take the mask off and reveal their identity, something you wish you could’ve prepared yourself for.

Raising their hands, the person takes the mask off and the face behind it has your heart falling to the floor, tears flooding your eyes and all the air leaving your body. “Ethan?” Tara said in shock and the name triggered the first of many tears as they began falling down your face.

Shaking your head, you back away and drop the brick Sam gave you as a weapon, a silent sob ripping through your mouth. “No,”

While Quinn wore a proud smirk, Ethan wore the exact opposite. His eyes were clouded with guilt, his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensing up. He looked at the blood that covered your arm from when Quinn sliced a decent sized mark up your skin, your grey long sleeved shirt now a dark red. “Bet you didn’t see that one coming,” she teased, twirling the knife in her hand as Ethan stepped forward.

“Y/n,” the sound of your name leaving his mouth had your eyes squeezing shut, making you miss the way Bailey’s arm reached out and stopped his son from going over to you.

“Now, son,” he said, giving the younger man a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. “Don’t let a girl you hardly know take away your focus on the task at hand.”

Quinn gave her brother a nod, walking around their dad to place her hands on his shoulders. “He’s right, Eth,” she pressed her fingers into his tense shoulders. “She’s not worth it. I told you that she never was.”

“No,” Ethan said it in the same tone you did, shaking his head and closing his eyes.

Quinn inhaled angrily, looking between her two family members. “You can’t save her, Ethan,” she dropped her comforting voice and began to speak more sternly. “She’s as dead as those two bitches beside her.”

Sam glared at her while Tara reached her hand back, signaling for you to take it. You did, refusing to look at the three killers in front of you while the two sisters hid you behind them. “She has nothing to do with us,” Tara said, her eyes never leaving Bailey’s in case he made any sudden moves. “Leave her out of this.”

“Yeah, it’s us you want, right?” Sam asked and watched as both Bailey and Quinn nodded while Ethan remained still. “So leave her alone. Keep her out of this.”

Quinn laughed, stepping away from her brother and inching closer to the three of you. “You two are dumber than I thought,” she said, running her gloved finger over the blade. “Are you that stupid? She’s seen our faces. She knows us. She has to die, just like how the two of you have to.”

“You’ll suffer for what you did to my boy,” Bailey says tearfully, finally showing another emotion besides rage. At Sam’s confused face, he continued. “You killed him.”

Sam’s eyes widened when she realized who he was talking about. “Richie?”

The name makes Quinn’s face shift into a look of anger, while Ethan finally tears his eyes away from you to glance at Sam. “You killed my brother,” Quinn seethed. “And now I’m going to kill you.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she was rushing forward and slicing at Tara, who moved out of the way and instead made the knife cut through the skin of your other arm.

Chaos broke out after that. Tara swung her arm up and slammed the brick into the side of Quinn’s face, knocking her to the ground instantly. Bailey pointed his gun at you once Sam ran to help her sister, but before he could pull the trigger, Ethan finally broke out of his daze and tackled his father to the ground, making him shoot up at the ceiling.

The sound of a gun going off makes you jump and run to hide behind one of the benches, ducking down so you are out of sight. You really did have no business being involved in this.

Ethan and Bailey struggle for a moment before he is able to take the gun from his father and throw it towards the stage, making another shot go off that nearly hits Quinn. “Ethan, what the fuck?!” She yells at him, looking around for her brother and father. Her mouth was bleeding and the sight of a couple of her teeth on the ground had her seeing red.

Bailey recovered a few seconds later and sat up, ready to scold his son on the betrayal. Except Ethan was no longer with him.

The hand that covered your mouth made your eyes widened and you began thrashing around when you felt an arm wrap around your body. Ethan shushes you and you wish you felt as safe with him as you did on the train, but your shaking body gave away how you really felt. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered to you and you shook your head, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and pulling his hand away from your mouth.

“You’re fucking crazy!” You whisper-yell at him. “You’re a fucking killer!”

“I know! I know, just, please,” he matched your tone and peeked his head up, seeing that his sister and father were looking for him, knives held tightly in their hands. “Please, believe me when I say I was never, ever going to hurt you. It wasn’t part of the plan.”

“The plan?” Your eyes widened even more as you tried to push his arm off you. It was a failed attempt as he was a lot stronger than you, and his body was running on pure adrenaline at the reality that you no longer trusted him. “This was all part of some fucking plan? What, you were supposed to make me think that you’re a good guy just so you could stab me in the back?”

“No! No, baby, please, listen to me,” he reached up to brush your hair out of your face, turning your head so you were looking in his eyes. “I could never hurt you, I’d never do that. I had to convince Quinn to leave you alone because I fell in love with you and the thought of you getting hurt was enough to drive me insane.”

“There’s no driving you insane, Ethan,” you muttered. “You’re already fucking insane.” Before you could get any other words out, you were grabbed by your arm and thrown to the floor, your head hitting off the edge of a display case.

“Fuck,” Ethan cursed as he stood up and watched as his dad towered over you. He lifted you into the air by your neck, making you choke out raspy breaths. Your hands wrap around his arm as your legs begin to kick at anything they could, your eyes widening at the interrupted air flow. “Dad, stop!”

Ethan ran over to the display case that held the knife Charlie used on Kirby, his heart falling to the floor at the thought of what he had to do next.

You let out a strangled scream when he plunged a knife into your stomach, your nails digging into his arm. It didn’t seem to faze him at all as he retracted the knife and was about to stab you again before his own eyes widened in shock at the searing burn in his side.

He let go of you, making you fall to the floor in pain as he turned to face Ethan, who pulled the knife out of his side. “Y-you?” Bailey muttered, betrayal lacing his voice.

Ethan didn’t reply as he lifted the knife again, this time shoving it deep into his father’s neck, and watched as he fell to his knees. Bailey mumbled something that was incoherent before falling on his side with blood beginning to pool around him.

“Ethan!” Quinn called from her place on the balcony with Sam and Tara. “What did you do?!”

He looked up at her with guilt in his eyes before Sam picked up the gun and shot her in the head, successfully killing her. Ethan quickly looked away and back at you, who was leaning against the side of the bench, your hands pressing against your stomach. At the sight of your blood seeping through your fingers, Ethan made a move to rush over to you, not noticing that Kirby was slowly getting up and reaching for her gun.

When she saw his fast movements towards a bleeding and crying you, she fired the gun and shot him in the chest. He stopped instantly, his hands coming up to press against the hole in his chest as he fell to his knees, identical to how his father fell just moments before.

Your eyes fill with tears once more when you realized what happened, and they meet his for a brief second before he falls onto his back. “No,” you whispered, wincing at the pain you felt when you began crawling to him. “No, no no no, Ethan.”

You collapse next to him, watching as tears form in his eyes and his still glove-covered hand weakly reaches out to you. You grab it, lacing your fingers together and holding your joined hands close to your chest. “I’m so..I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, blood beginning to pool in his mouth.

With your freehand, you reach up to brush away the curls that rested against his forehead, sniffling quietly. “Thank you,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe his racing heart. “For saving my life.”

Ethan let a single tear fall as he watched you cry above him. “It was easy, falling for you. I could’ve loved you forever,” he managed to say as he felt all his energy leave his body. His words make even more tears fall as you remain silent, tightening your hold on his hand. “It wouldn’t have been long enough.”

His voice was quiet, but it wasn’t as quiet as Tara and Sam, who watched from above with pity. It also wasn’t quiet enough so that Kirby, who was sitting on the steps of the stage with the slightest bit of remorse in her eyes, couldn’t hear him.

As soon as the words left his mouth, a bit of blood dripped from his lips as his head fell to the side and his eyes closed. You squeezed his hand in yours, leaning down to press your head against his chest as you cried silently.

Sam grabs Tara’s hand as they walk towards the stairs, knowing exactly how you were feeling. Her heart hurt for you as you were a lot younger than her and still had to go through what she did not too long ago.

Minutes passed before you lifted your head and looked at the lifeless face of your now ex-boyfriend. A few more tears leave your eyes as you place his hand on his stomach, forcing yourself to let go of it afterwards, and caressing the side of his face.

For a final goodbye, you lean down and press a kiss to his forehead, and wiped away the single tear that rolled down his face when you pulled away.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagines #scream 6 ethan #ethan scream 6 #scream 6 #scream 6 x reader #scream 6 imagines

2K notes · View notes

ze0re · 1 year

Text

╭﹐❣︎﹕ I Like You ﹒〣 ﹕‹𝟹 － 𝖲𝖠𝖭𝖤𝖬𝖨 𝖲. 𝖴𝖹𝖴𝖨 𝖳. 𝖸𝖮𝖱𝖨𝖨𝖢𝖧𝖴 𝖳. 𝖦𝖨𝖸𝖴𝖴 𝖳.

cw/tw. fluff, angst, black!reader, hashira!reader

an. should i make this a two parter? 👀 Also you’re the Moon Hashira.

summary.- they start to realize their feelings for you.

𝖲𝖠𝖭𝖤𝖬𝖨 𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖭𝖠𝖹𝖴𝖦𝖠𝖶𝖠

★ 𝖱𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌

Last thing you remembered was Sanemi holding the box before stabbing his sword through it. You stood there with a side glare watching everything unfold, you so badly wanted to face the bastard on but you were already in enough trouble with the master and everyone else. You clenched your fist around your sword lifting it from its holder debating if you should disobey yourself and protect Nezuko, seeing Sanemi laugh in Tanjiro’s face made your blood boil, you snarled at the sight lifting your sword out more but a hand stopped you. You looked over towards Tomioka who shook his head, “Don’t.” He softly mumbled, you furrowed your eyebrows letting your hand relax but when you heard Tanjiro scream you snapped your head towards his direction,

“Whoever harms Nezuko answers to me! I don’t give a damn if you’re one of the Hashira!” He yelled, Sanemi chuckled in response, ripping his sword out of his box splashing the blood off his blade moving his gaze towards you, “I’m surprised to see you here..(Y/N).” You gripped tighter around your handle growling at his tone as he grinned, “You protecting this demon girl goes against the rules. But you already know that..you are a Hashira after all,” He chuckled, right before he was about to stab the box again you were quick to get there.

You withdrew your sword and in a flash you stood in front of Tanjiro pointing your sword towards him with a dark glare, “Why don’t you be reasonable for once and listen jackass. Nezuko hasn’t eaten a human the entire time I was with them, she would never hurt or think about doing it you damn bastard.” You snarled moving your sword more forward as Sanemi glared at you with a shit eating smirk, “Yeah? But what if she does eat a human? That boy and this girl will both be executed as well for you and Tomioka receiving a punishment. Isn’t that right Tomioka?” He questioned staring at the water Hashira who kept a stern look with a scowl on his face,

“He’s right (Y/N). If she does manage to eat a human we’ll have no other choice but to kill them and punish you and Tomioka.” Shinobu added, staring at the brown box that was held into his hand, you scoffed, “And I'm willing to take the consequences for it. Kill me, punish me, I don't give a damn what you do, I'll protect these two like they’re my own.” Staring into your eyes you weren’t lying nor bluffing, you were dedicated to do anything for them, you swore you would protect them and that’s what you were gonna do. Sanemi scoffed, “If that’s the case then i should just behead you then, you and that mouth always pissed me off.” He gripped his sword in hand also lifting it towards your neck placing it onto your skin feeling the blades scratch against it, from afar you heard Tanjiro snarl as he fought against the kakushi standing up from the ground glaring at him, “You bastard!” He yelled dashing towards Sanemi who looked up at him taking his guard away from you, this gave you the chance to drop your sword onto the rubble ground quick to grab his scared arm pulling him close to you, giving you the perfect distance to head butt him.

He stumbled back from the harsh impact growling in pain staring at you with a look that could kill, “Why you little-“ He was interrupted when Tanjiro came flying in also head butting him knocking him and himself to the ground. You stared down at the white haired Hashira, squatting down gripping his hair, lifting him up to glare into his eyes as he glared into yours, you leaned down a little, “You answer to me for now you got that? Lay a finger on them and I'll kill you.”

Ever since the Hashira’s meeting you and Sanemi have both been avoiding each other. He hasn’t seen you nor has you seen him and you were gonna keep it that way, you of course went instantly to check on Nezuko after the whole accident worried as shit but your worries we’re drowned when you heard she was fine and she’s been sleeping the whole time after the incident. It’s been 2 weeks since all of it happened and you and Sanemi were still avoiding each other, but when you guys do come across paths you would shoot him a dirty look purposely bumping into his shoulder hearing a snarl leave him with a shit eating grin on your face. He was honestly getting sick of your attitude but soon that changed when this unknowingly feeling came..

It all started when one day you guys got assigned to do a mission together. Obviously you were against it but from masters orders you obeyed not willing to argue or get in trouble with him..again. Surprisingly the whole time it was quiet between you both, you didn’t say anything nor did he say anything, on the way there to the location your crow said to go there was a strange noise coming from a distance. You and Sanemi both stopped to hear closely enough to what it was, it sounded like a group of people coming this way. Almost in a flash you were pinned against a tree in the shadows with Sanemi close to you, you furrowed your eyebrows ready to protest but turned into a muffle when he put his hand on your mouth keeping you from talking. You lifted your arm to rip his hand away but in swiftness he grabbed your wrist also pinning it to the bark giving you no choice but to stay there with a irritated look,

He felt your glare being on him, quietly sighing. “Stop throwing me glares you damn brat, we’re not supposed to be seen by anyone. Did you forget?” His deep voice sent shivers down your spine feeling his breath hit your ear lobe, you sucked in a big breath but nodded your head not causing anymore disruptions, he grinned, “Good girl.” He said teasing, making you scoff, shaking your head but not going past how you got butterflies hearing the praise. Hearing the footsteps fade away, he looked to check out if there were any more people coming by. When he noticed no one else was coming he sighed in relief letting your wrist go, uncovering your mouth. Instead of getting mad at him and tryna cuss him out you just stood there feeling things after what happened, your breath hitched as the moment from seconds ago replayed in your head.

For some reason you missed his warmth when he was close to you…you were missing it. And your eyes couldn’t stop staring at his lips..didn’t you hate the guy?? Why are these feelings forming? Oh no…are you starting to have feelings for him?? Sanemi turned back to you to tell you to continue forward but stopped seeing how your whole body language changed. He raised a brow in response, it was quiet between the both of you with crickets and other insects chirping through the night, you blinked a couple of times before coming back to reality pushing him away from you getting off the tree fixing your Kamodo, “We should get going.” You mumbled, starting to walk ahead without waiting for him, as confused as Sanemi was, he didn't bother to question it, clicking his tongue in response, feeling this butterfly feeling in his stomach he followed you.

And this is where he started to realize he was indeed starting to like you.

Sanemi laid onto his futon still thinking about what happened on the mission. He couldn’t stop thinking about how close you guys were and you staring at his lips, your beautiful (E/C) eyes staring at you with those plumped kissable lips..ugh he groaned irritated,

“Fuck you (Y/N).”

𝖴𝖹𝖴𝖨 𝖳𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖤𝖭

★ 𝖥𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌

“Now, remember what i told you three. Please be careful, and if you guys need any help-“

“If we encounter a demon send out a crow, yes we know (Y/N). You don’t have to worry about us, we'll be okay.” Tanjiro reassured you by watching how worried you were, and sighed softly. “How can i not worry when there could possibly be an upper moon out there? Just please if anything happens don’t hesitate to call for me, all of you.” You glanced towards Inosuke and Zenitsu and back to Tanjiro who smiled, “Trust me, we’ll be safe for your sake and ours. Don’t worry!”

“Yeah! Don’t worry about us (Y/N)! I’ll make you proud when I find this demon!” Inosuke yelled proudly, softly smiling in return from his passionate mood you patted his head, Zenitsu also nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah, we’ll be fine, just worry about doing your job and not getting yourself killed.” He added on, they were right they’ll be fine (Y/N) you’ve seen how they can fight on their own..they’ll be fine.

They’ll be okay.

It’s been a good three days since the three went to their assigned houses and you couldn’t help but be worried sick for them, you had a bad feeling there was an upper moon here you felt it in your gut, you and Tengen were both ontop of the roof patrolling over the houses to see if any activities of demons are in sight, you were standing staring into the calm night as Tengen sat besides you sensing your nervousness. By the way you kept shifting from one foot to another made you completely obvious, he sighed, “You know, you worry too much.” He said, your breath hitched looking down at him who continued looking into the night, you clicked your tongue facing back to the sky, “You think so?” You questioned and he nodded his head, huffing standing up as well now turning his attention to you, “Ever since we left those three brats you’ve been nothing but worried about them. I’m sure they’re doing fine.” You turned your gaze back to his, glancing into his red eyes as he looked back into your (E/C) eyes sighing. “I can't really help it. They mean too much to me for me to just not care about them, they look up to me as their big sister and i’m not gonna discard that title to them. I have a gut feeling that an upper moon is here, ever since we got here i had a weird feeling about this place.” You huffed rubbing your arms up and down, Tengen almost looked surprised by the confession, you really took that title to the extreme huh?

But was he really that surprised about how you’re acting? Ever since that day when he seen you at the butterfly mansion he seen how protective you looked when he insulted the three. You were really an interesting girl, in response he grinned placing a hand on his hip, “You really care about them that much, huh?” You nodded your head, “Of course, i would do anything for them.” You smiled looking away from him as he hummed staring into the dark night. He also realized how different your uniform was from the rest of three, we’re you also a Hashira? He hasn’t seen you around before, “Are you perhaps a Hashira?” He questioned breaking the silence, now your secret was up. You thought he wouldn’t notice but maybe you were too obvious, you softly sighed nodding your head, “(Y/N) (L/N), the moon Hashira. I didn’t think i was gonna be that obvious.” You chuckled side glancing at him hearing a low chuckle leave him as well, “Well that makes you even more interesting, how come i’ve never you seen you around before?” You shrugged your shoulders, “Im not really around that much at headquarters, you’ll be lucky enough to catch me passing by back to my room. It’s nothing too much,” Tengen nodded his head with a hum, “Welcome to the team then, (Y/N).”

Butterfliesssssss.

You smiled softly, “Thank you.”

Ever since that night, you guys had became closer. More talkative with one another, and more friendly with each other, you have to admit you were gaining interest into him. I mean how couldn’t you? Once you got to know him you viewed him differently, he’s still a cocky ass nigga but other than that he’s really sweet to you more sweet than the three brats he loves to call them. Every night when patrolling over the houses you guys would crack jokes every now and then, having interesting conversations. “Wait wait so you’re telling me, when you first met that boar kid you actually thought it was a real life boar?.” He questioned with a grin as you rolled your eyes pushing him away with a small laugh, “Yeah! I mean I think it was just because i was exhausted, plus i was getting thrown around into different rooms for an hour straight. I still don’t understand why he wears the thing, it creeps me out.” You shrugged staring into the sky watching the stars shine through the night, Tengen chuckled himself. “But other than that I grew to get used to it.“ You sighed, turning your head to stare at him as he was already staring at you. It was quiet between you both, it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence instead it was more comfortable, but getting flustered from the long eye contact you looked away pushing some of your hair back.

You don’t know why but you were starting to like him and luckily for you he was starting to like you as well. After this mission he was definitely gonna ask the question of if you wanna be his fourth wife, you can even meet Hina, Suma and Makio, he has a feeling they’ll have a good liking of you. Especially Makio,

It was the fifth day of the mission and currently you, Inosuke and Tanjiro were talking about what Inosuke saw. He was doing these weird gestures making you both heavily confused on what he was trying to say, “Inosuke slow down please and calm down-“

“CALM DOWN?! I'M TRYING TO SHOW YOU GUYS WHAT I SAW!” You sighed in defeat about to talk but Tanjiro beat you to it, “Let’s just wait till Mr. Uzui and Zenitsu comes, then we’ll-“ He got interrupted, “Zenitsu isn’t gonna be joining us.” You three both looked towards were Tengen was, where the hell did he come from? And what the hell does he mean?. “What do you mean he won’t be joining us?.” You questioned standing up staring at the back of his head, you heard Tengen sigh almost sadly, “Zenitsu has gone missing.” Missing? Your breath hitched, “Missing? What do you mean missing Uzui?” He kept quiet which made you confused and slightly irritated, “Uzui answer the question.” You mumbled walking towards the taller Hashira who still kept quiet, him keeping quiet like this was making your blood boil. He wasn’t answering nor saying anything, your hands clenched and unclenched due to anger starting to take over, Tanijiri saw this from afar standing up to try and get ahold of you to calm you down, “Wait (Y/N) let’s talk about this-“ He was interrupted by a flinch when saw you force Uzui to look at you, you glared into his eyes as he stared into yours, “Answer the goddamn question Tengen. What do you mean Zenitsu is missing.”

He sighed, closing his eyes, avoiding to look into your anger ones, “After last night I lost all communication with him, I feel bad for dragging you four into this. I was too worried into saving my wives. I forgot the point of the mission.” Wait..wives? He has a wife? wait no he said wives..so does that mean he has more than one? Your heart started to race, feeling your stomach drop, due to hearing that one of your little brothers was missing and the other that you were liking an already taken man. Not hearing a single thing being heard from you, he brought his eyes back to you to see hurt and anger linger in them, he opened his mouth to speak but closed it, sighing in response. “I’m sorry but I'm gonna continue this mission on my own, those two are too weak to fight if it’s an upper moon. Take them back to headquarters,” With that he vanished into thin air leaving you to stare where he currently was,

Tanjiro could smell the sadness and anger that was lingering around you, he went to grab your hand but you turned away from him, “Are you okay (N/N)?)

“I’m fine. Let’s just go find Zenitsu.”

𝖸𝖮𝖱𝖨𝖨𝖢𝖧𝖨 𝖳𝖲𝖴𝖦𝖨𝖪𝖴𝖭𝖨

★ 𝖲𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌

Yoriichi Tsugikuni. He was a strange man, he was quiet and not so talkative with anyone. So when you were first introduced to the others he was the only one who didn’t greet you during the entire thing, the others reassure you that Yoriichi wasn’t a very talkative person and is very stoic which you completely understood not bothering to talk to him or force him. But you’ve made friends with other Hashira’s Enjuro who was the flame Hashira, Takeshi who was the wind Hashira, Shin who was the thunder Hashira, Yusuke who was the water Hashira, and more, they were all wonderful people making you guys instantly click.

But there was one thing that was bothering you and it was Yoriichi. You really wanted to talk to him or try to get to know him, so your new goal was to try to talk to him! It was later in the evening and you just gotten done eating dinner heading back to where you were sleeping when something catches your eye making you stop in your tracks, you hummed to yourself as you saw a figure in the distance training by themselves, you were gonna head back but the way their movements made you go into a trance. It was so satisfying watching how they moved in sync with their sword, and breathing techniques, soon enough the movements came to a stop as the person placed his sword back into its holder. You squint your eyes to see if you could figure out who it was..he was wearing a red Kamodo, red and black sword, long red and black hair- wait was that who you thought it was? Maybe you were blind but you could have swore that was Yoriichi, maybe you were trippin. Right when you we’re about to walk away Yoriichi turned around to come in contact with you, his hard red eyes staring into your (E/C) eyes making you stop in your tracks.

Fuck! I wasn’t trying to get caught!. You gulped down that lump in your throat what the fuck should i do? Should i say hi? Should i just walk away?? You thought but without realizing you brought your hand up and waved at him, oh my god this is so embarrassing why did i wave at him?! You were mentally freaking out to yourself as you both continued to hold that eye contact expecting him to ignore you and walk away acting like nothing happened but instead…he gave you a small smile nodding his head. You don’t know why but that same night as you were laid in your futon staring at the ceiling you couldn’t stop thinking about the response he gave you, butterflies were starting to roam around your stomach as your heart began to beat fast just thinking about the small moment you both shared.

He smiled at me..

You smiled to yourself hugging your pillow. That’s some progress done..now on to actually talking to him, it took you a few days…cough a week to courage up and talk to him..too embarrassed about that night but you managed! Walking through the front lawn you spotted him in the training circle that was circled with lights shining light around the area, walking carefully through the path not trying to be too loud or distract him of some sort. Coming to an end with his training placing his sword back into its holster he turned around to spot you making your way towards him, for some reason finally seeing you after that night made his heart race but he had to keep his composure so he just stared at you as you made your way over.

Time for the hard time, what the duck do i say? “Hi Yoriichi i was wondering if i could train with you?” Ew no.. “Hey! I was coming over to check on you.” That’s also a no..ugh just be yourself (Y/N), he won’t mind just be yourself. Clearing your throat you looked into his eyes, nervously waving your hand, “Uh hi..” Yoriichi stared at you with a soft look but not saying a thing. You began to become fidgety from the awkward silence clearing your throat. “Is it okay if I train with you? You don’t have to say yes I just need a sparring partner,” You asked, staring into his eyes as he nodded his head almost in an instant which made a smile form. “Wait really?!” And again he nodded his head with a smile of his own making your heart rate increase,

The sparing training actually went well and it was fun! You learned more about his breathing technique and how it works and his swordsman skills were amazing. In a blink of an eye he could have his sword pointing towards your neck without making it obvious…which happened to you multiple times but you had him in some times! Just sometimes he may or may not have the upper hand but still! It was past hour, and you and Yoriichi we're still training with each other you were over here breaking a sweat while he looked squeaky clean. The score was currently 3 - ….35 but no one has to know that, Yoriichi was silently smiling to himself watching you pant with your sword laid next to you as you were also laid on the ground, this was absolute bull there was no way this guy isn’t breaking a sweat right now. You lifted your head to meet with his eyes as he had a smile on his face, and there it was again..that smile he did the other night that made you go insane in your room.

Ugh this is so embarrassing, how the hell did i manage to become a Hashira compared to him? You didn’t realize you were talking aloud to yourself till you heard Yoriichi footsteps make their way towards where you laid, “You became a Hashira because you were chosen to. Never look down on yourself,”. A soft gentle voice spoke out, you felt yourself freeze turning your head to look at Yoriichi. Did he just speak? Is he talking to me?? He chuckled once more, “Yes i’m talking to you,” How the hell can he understand what i’m saying?!? Is he secretly a mind reader? Again Yoriichi kept that same smile on his face shaking his head, “No i am not a mind reader, you’re talking out loud.” Oh. “Oh..WAIT I WAS?!” Nice going (Y/N) you’re just embarrassing yourself even more, before you could even think about burying yourself deep in a hole and never coming back out a hand patted you on top of your head taking you out of your trance.

You looked up at Yoriichi who looked down at you with soft eyes, “Let’s continue training yeah? I can teach you another moon breath technique.” He was making your tummy do flips and tricks and you’re pretty sure if it was possible you would’ve been red as a tomato, you smiled in response picking up your sword in hand,

“I would like that.”

𝖦𝖨𝖸𝖴 𝖳𝖮𝖬𝖨𝖮𝖪𝖠

★ 𝖥𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌

“She’s still going at it, huh?” Zenitsu asked hearing Tanjiro sigh sadly nodding his head, “She’s been out there for the past 2 hours now, ever since she was released she’s been training.” It was true, ever since Shinobu released you, you’ve been non stop training ignoring her words, “Now, promise me you won’t train or do anything. For at least a month so your injuries can heal.” She stated clearly as you rolled your eyes, “You’re acting like i’m gonna disobey your rules,” She sighed, shaking her head, “It’s because you always do. Just this once (Y/N) don’t be stubborn and listen to me. You’re the moon Hashira and we can’t lose you.” And yet you didn’t listen to her, you wanted to get better and stronger, you wanted to not be weak.

The mission with the upper six was a complete disaster, you were useless during the entire thing. You were weak during the entire time, if it wasn’t for Tengen and Tanjiro saving you from Gyutaro you would’ve been dead by now. Ever since Kyojuro died you’ve been nothing but weak, you’ve lost your strengths, you’ve lost everything and now you aren't gonna stop till you get back to that strong (Y/N) you were before. You were a Hashira dammit. The two boys watched you from afar as you slashed the three demon dummies heads with one of your moon breathings,

This time it was slow as ever groaning at the speed distance. Cmon dammit! You’re just getting slower and slower by the day. You heaved heavily as you gripped your sword in hand getting ready to do another attack, you breathed in feeling your heart race dashing towards the dummy when you were close to it you jumped in the air high swinging your sword. Moon breathing second form, dashing eclipse! A mist of black flowed out of your sword as you dashed towards the dummy disappearing into thin air before coming close to its head, slicing it off landing behind the stand stumbling to your knees. Fuck..your body was starting to reach its limit, everywhere started to ache and you felt like your wounds are gonna reopen soon if you don’t stop.

But you just couldn’t..you couldn’t stop now. You still have so much work to do to get to your goal you can’t quite, you won’t quite. You hissed using your sword to stand yourself back up facing another demon dummy, you legs were becoming wobbly as well as your vision starting to blur, you breathed in gripping the sword handle getting ready do another attack, moon breathing first form..moon danc- Your breath got caught in your throat feeling a presence standing beside you and a hand on your sword, “That’s enough.” A voice spoke, you looked over to spot Giyu looking at you with a stern look. You tried to move your sword out of his grasp but due to you being weak your strength wasn’t all the way there making it easier for him to hold it in his grasp, you scoffed. “Buzz off Tomioka, you don’t tell me what to do.” You scowled glaring into his water eyes as he simply just stared at you sighing in response, “Stop being so reckless and rest. You’re still wounded,” Again you scoffed tugging one more tug using your remaining strength to take your sword out of his grasp, stumbling a little, “I’m fine okay? See? Perfectly fine,” You said throwing your arms in the air, Tomioka didn’t believe it one bit you had scars over your body, nose, arm, legs, there were bruises forming, you were wobbly and he can see some blood seeking through the white Kamodo, your wounds reopened.

Not realizing your wounds had reopened, you stumbled back to get ready for another attack. But the way your vision was becoming blurry and your stomach aching more than it was before, you dropped your sword lazily placing a hand on your stomach feeling blood soak through your Kamodo, “Fuck..” In a second you went unconscious from lost blood, before you could hit the ground Tomioka caught you in swiftness laying your head on his arm, he tsk. “Tch, you can never listen to anyone can you.” He mumbled, you breathed softly as you were knocked out cold. He faced his attention to the bloody wound that was leaking, without much thought he picked you up bridal style and brought you to the butterfly mansion.

A week later

It’s been a week since the accident happened and ever since you’ve been unconscious Tanjiro, Zenitsu and Inosuke made sure to come visit you leaving you your favorite flowers, staying with you for a little before getting reported to go on a mission..and unexpectedly Tomioka also visited you..almost the entire time you were unconscious. Day and night he made it his routine to visit you, even if it was for five minutes he still wanted to see you, it was strange to see him like this. Shinobu found it extremely suspicious of his actions whenever she would come in to check on you, she one time found him asleep one night besides you on the chair. It was weird but she caught on with him…he likes you but try’s so hard to not make it obvious.

At least to her.

It took awhile for you to actually wake up but when you did you were caught by a surprise. You woke up to the sun beaming through the curtains groaning from the brightness, you sat up slightly but stopped feeling a head on your lap. You furrowed your eyebrows looking down to spot the familiar black haired. Your breath hitched from the sudden surprise not knowing if you should wake him up or not…but he looked so peaceful. His warm skin shining bright through the sun, his hair slightly fluffed out and a mess, he looked so cute, you softly sighed to yourself placing your bandaged hand on top of his head playing with his hair. You swore you felt him move more against your hand when he felt your hands on top of it,

For a moment it was peaceful, the birds chirping through the sky, the bright sun shining down with a blue sky. After a few minutes or so Shinobu arrived with a tray of fresh bandages, when she looked up she was caught with a surprise, you were awake and Tomioka was still there from before. “(Y/N)..you’re awake?” Hearing her soft voice occur through the room you turned your attention to the insect Hashira, “How long have i been asleep for?” Shinobu sighed looking down, “Almost two weeks, if Tomioka hadn’t stopped you that night you would’ve gone into a coma for a month or two due to your wounds, loss of blood and no energy in your system. (Y/N) I told you to stay away from training till you were done recovering, you’re lucky he was there to stop you.”

And here comes the scolding, you grumbled to yourself looking down to face the sleeping Hashira that was on your lap sighing in frustration, “I just couldn’t help it okay? Ever since Kyojuro I..” You stopped mid way, breathing out sadly, Shinobu saw how your era changed with swiftness, you were upset, you were angry, you were feeling so many emotions at once. She set down the tray next to your bed touching your arm softly, “It’s been rough on you i understand, you were his former Tsugoku it’s been hitting hard on you. Just please, take it easy on yourself, no training and I mean that.” She stated clearly, you huffed rolling your eyes, “Yeah yeah wtv.” Right before Shinobu was about to scold you for your attitude you both turned your head hearing Tomioka groan softly shifting on your lap but staying asleep.

Shinobu grinned seeing how your gaze was soft and gentle looking at him with your hands playing in his hair, she knows those eyes…the same eyes that shouted being lovesick, “He likes you, you know.” You swore you felt your heart start beating fast, you couldn’t help that stupid smile form on your face hearing that..in all honesty youve been gaining some type of interest for him. It all started when a mission happened..it was overnight due to a snow storm happening, you two ending up in a cabin that luckily still had the perfect resources. It all happened when you guys were sleep..for some reason you guys were cuddling up with each other with his hands wrapped around your waist and head in between your neck. You bit your bottom lip from the memory continuing to look down at him,

“He likes me?”

( ͡❛ ෴ ͡❛)

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eclecticqueennerd · 8 months

Text

Bad Dream

You rolled over in your shared bed with Ben and faced your nightstand. Cracking an eye open you read the digital clock, 3:30 in the morning. Sleep, slowly taking you back to dreamland, you hear the jiggling of the room door handle and the creaking of the door being opened. Hearing the soft padding of feet on the hardwood floor approaching the bed, a small, shadowed figure stood by your side of the bed. Opening your eyes fully, you see your son, clad in his cowboy pj’s, gently shaking you awake. Propping yourself up on your elbow you say,

“What wrong baby?”

“I had a bad dream; can I sleep with you and daddy?” You shift a little in the bed, making room for your son to climb in between Ben and you. Your son got settled in between the two of you, and wrap your arms around him, gently stroking his hair to calm him. During all this, Ben did not stir in his sleep, you’ve always been impressed with how deeply he slept.

“What was your dream about baby?” you asked your son gently.

“I had a dream that you and daddy died. In my dream, a supervillain and wanted to kill you for trying to get him in trouble.”

“Oh, well that is a scary dream. It’s okay honey, daddy won’t let that happen, he’s very, very strong. You, me, and daddy are all safe.” With a few more reassuring head rubs, your son fell back asleep, tucked against Ben. Sleep found you shortly after.

A few hours later, the sunlight poured into your room through sheer curtains framing your bedroom window. You shift in the bed to face your boys but noticed that the bed was empty. You slowly sit up and rub your eyes. You hear the soft cluttering of pots and pans and your son’s voice coming from the kitchen. Peeling back the blankets on the bed, you make your way into the kitchen and see Ben preparing breakfast while your son was drawing a picture at the counter.

“See daddy? This is what the supervillain looked like!” your son holds up the drawing and your stomach drops. A tall man with blonde hair adorned in a suit of red, white and blue, bright orange lasers coming from his eyes. Ben turns around and looks at the drawing,

“This is the guy? This guy is just puppet in a suit. He can’t hurt us, and if he tries, daddy punch him so hard his head will fly off.”

“But daddy I saw it! He used his laser eyes on mommy, and you were so mad, you then tried to beat him up and he used his laser eyes on you!”

“Sammy, I’m not letting anything happen to you or Mommy. It was just a dream, okay champ?” Ben reached out to give Sam a hair ruffle. You approached the two boys, sitting next to Sam.

“Let’s draw something else okay baby?” The two of you busied yourself while Ben made scrambled eggs and pancakes for breakfast. Before eating, Sam held up his drawing, proud of himself.

“Who are these people honey?” You point to a man in a trench coat with spikey hair and a fuzzy beard, a girl with claws on her fingers and scowl on her face, a short man with a mustache with big brown eyes, a large black man with a beard and a small, framed man with curly hair.

“They’re gonna kill the supervillain Mommy!”

“Okay, breakfast is done!” Ben said, placing the food on the counter.

What you didn’t know was that this was your son’s first power appearing, his power to predict the future.

#the boys #the boys amazon #billy butcher #frenchie #karl urban #mothers milk #billy butcher x reader #kimiko the boys #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #jensen ackles

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kizzer55555 · 25 days

Text

DP x DC: My Brother’s Ghost

So there are a bunch of fics where Danny and Damian are twins and Danny eventually has to go to Gotham or Damian/another bat interacts with Danny as ghost king. But I do you one better. Danny faked his death because of failing a mission/he actually died and his mother brought him back. (Or maybe he revived on his own after constant Lazarus exposure over time and knew he couldn’t go back). Anyways, Danny knew that he needed to go to Bruce Wayne in Gotham if he ever needed anything but only as a last resort as they would expect him to go there. So he’s been monitoring Bruce from afar and immediately knew when Damian joined the bats. He clocked him as the new Robin and started following his hero career more closely. He was content to watch his family from afar. Even after the accident. Then something happens where Robin was said to go missing and when no news showed up after a few days, Danny got worried so figured it couldn’t hurt to do a quick trip to Gotham.

He dresses in all black and a hood made using an old ninja Halloween costume. Not nearly as much protection as his old league uniform but with his ghost powers he doesn’t really need protection. Just anonymity. He goes to Gotham in phantom form, making sure all his white hair is carefully tucked in the black hood so only his green eyes remain. He uses his old assassin training and finds Robin drugged and captured in an old warehouse by the court of owls. Robin clearly isn’t thinking straight but Danny puts him in a simple choke hold to knock him unconscious anyways. Better safe than sorry. He quickly frees the boy and drops him off in an area he knows the other bats are searching. After watching to make sure Damian is safe and a bat finds him, he leaves.

Damian could barely remember his capture but he thought he saw a figure in black with glowing green eyes. He could have sworn the future was trying to kill him but…he woke up looking at another bat (or maybe even the manor). Did his family save him?

Meanwhile, Danny can’t stop thinking about Damian. Despite his assassin training, he was drugged and hurt. Danny thought he could handle himself. He thought he would be safe. But what if this happened again? What if the colony of bats wasn’t enough? So Danny couldn’t help the occasional visit to Gotham to make sure his twin was ok. Most of the time he didn’t do anything, just watched. Sometimes, though, there would be an instance where Damian got out of a dangerous situation and no one knew how. A building collapsed, Damian appeared unharmed outside. A goon was about to get a lucky shot? Somehow the bullet missed or the goon got taken out when no other bats were nearby. Fear gas? Damian faintly remembers warm hands hugging him as he struggled. And while he thought it was weird he heard his brother’s comforting voice when it should be a nightmare, he chalked it up to the fear gas anyways since there was no other explanation.

Yet every time there is a particularly dangerous encounter, he swears he sees the figure in black. Damian sees the figure more and more yet none of his family do. They swore to keep an eye out anyways in case. You never know. Sometimes the figure becomes more clear and Damian has tried to chase them but always loses them quickly. One time the chase lasted at least five minutes and Damian managed to corner the figure in an alleyway only for them to pass through the wall.

The bats suspect that this could either be meta abilities or magic. The funny thing is, there were no traces. No one sees the figure except Damian. No one hears them, and there’s is nothing to indicate their presence, not even footprints. It’s like they were never there and no matter how hard they try, there is no footage of the figure. Sometimes cameras glitch out and sometimes they only show Robin, sometimes neither or they seem to loop on themselves. So the bats are leaning towards Magic.

They call Constantine to give Damian a thorough check and he declares that Damian shows signs of interacting with a ghost. And that stumps everyone. A ghost? If it was a friendly specter like Deadman then he would help everyone, not just Damian. If it was hostile, it would never help Damian. So why is this ghost only focusing on the youngest bat and why? Is there even someone that would come back from the afterlife to help the demon brat, let alone have the will strong enough to manifest a ghost that can affect the living? Damian was a former assassin after all and he’s hardly the friendliest bat. So who would help him that has already died?

Throughout this, Damian is silent. Because there is one person he knows to have died that might do this. One person skilled enough to avoid the other bats and evade Damian during a chase. One person Damian would acknowledge as having a will stronger than his own. But something was wrong…because he was sure that that person didn’t have green eyes.

So the next time the figure shows himself Damian attacks. Not just a chase but an outright challenge. Hand to hand combat. And as Damian punches and kicks, the figure expertly parries each attack. And as the fight goes on, Damian watches. And he knows those moves. Those dodges. Those blocks. He can read this figure’s fighting stance like the back of his hand because he grew up with it.

And Damian knows without a shadow of a doubt as the figure disappears into he ground, that despite the changed eye color, the tan skin, the increased height, his brother’s ghost has come back to watch over him.

And for the first time in many years, Damian cries. That’s how the bats find him.

#Dpxdc #dcxdp #Kizzer’s ideas.#Damian thinks’s Danny’s ghost is haunting him.#Danny helps Damian as a NINJA.#A mute ninja #like a male version of Cass.#Damian only ever sees Danny’s eyes and they glow.#Eventually Danny will start helping other bats like if Damian asks for Danny to help find his brother if he’s missing.#Damian still tries to chase Danny but he maintains DISTANCE.#They’re kinda in the area where DAMAIN is aware of Danny and DANNY knows that Damian knows but he’s still pretending otherwise.#(He also doesn’t know how to interact with Damian. That stunted emotional communication was in there somewhere. It’s genetic).#So Danny sometimes becomes more visible but will always stay at least 20 feet away unless Damian’s in active danger.#Even the bats catch a flicker of him sometimes.#Bruce tries to connect with the ghost of his dead son.#Deadman comes to visit one day and they have a nice chat. Just being near Danny allowed the other to see the ghost too which was weird.#When Danny eventually takes the hood off everyone stares at the face of Damian just with soft white hair #and glowing green eyes.#It was bizarre.#That was the only time he took off the hood though.

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little-diable · 1 month

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One day you're gone – Tommy Shelby

Let's just ignore the fact that songs are my biggest inspiration, ok? Alright. Inspired by "one day you're gone" by "gavn!". I know this is super angsty, but I think it's a beautiful fic, so please give it a chance. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: She died years ago, and yet he still dreams of her, forced to relive their moments together every single night

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, loss of his wife (sorry for killing us off), this is sad, like really

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (1.3k words)

One day you're here and one day you're gone, you beat to the drum but you keep movin' on, ain't nobody knows when the next name's called, ‘cause one day you're here and one day you're gone

He dreamt of her, hands trembling from feeling his fingers interlaced with hers just moments before waking, heart racing from clinging to her like a blanket made to protect his shuddering body, lips tingling from kissing her breathless, at least in his dream.

Those were the nights where Tommy woke with a cry, unable to wipe away the tears clinging to his cheeks as he choked on his gasps. Ever since he had been a little boy, he had been forced to let go of people, a dull pain Tommy had slowly adapted to. Until (y/n) had been ripped from his side, leaving him and the life they had begun to build together.

He dreamt of her nightly, of their moments together, from childhood memories, to their wedding day. He saw it all so clearly as if he was watching recordings, though not in black and white and without sound, but full of colour. A bright splash of life like she had been, the light in his darkness, the colour in his grey life, the guiding hand that was now one with the soil he still felt clinging to his fingers.

“Today we mourn the loss of our (y/n), daughter, friend, wife.” Tears blurred Tommy’s vision as he stood near the coffin, hands interlaced in front of himself to try and stop his hands from trembling. He, Arthur, some of their friend’s and (y/n)’s father had carried the coffin up to the grave, unable to speak as the weight of their sadness weighed them down.

“Thomas.” The bucket filled with soil was reached out for him to take, forcing his eyes to find the dark ones of their pastor. With a shaky exhale leaving him, he let his fingers disappear in the cold soil, taking just enough to throw it down onto her coffin, covering a small part of the dark wood.

“How could you do this to me?” His voice carried exhaustion, speaking to those who were listening, the holy Father promising to protect those finding his way to him, people like (y/n) who had been ripped from this life too early.

Tommy rose to his feet as his fingers found a cigarette, alighting it before making his way out his empty bedroom. One of the places that held too many memories. One of the places he couldn’t part from just yet because his nose could still pick up on the scent of her perfume, because his eyes could still see her soft frame lying next to him, even though it had been years.

“Oh, Tommy.” She had her back arched off the mattress, legs wrapped around his middle. The two had gotten married hours ago, saying yes to one another in the company of their families and friends, finally reunited after the war. Tears had been shed that day, tears that were falling now once again, though these tears were urged on by desperation, by love, by lust.

His hips met hers with every thrust, drawing moans from (y/n) as his cock nudged her sweet spot. Tommy couldn’t rip his eyes from her features, the beautiful face he had thought of in France, clinging to his memories as if they were the oxygen he needed to survive.

“My beautiful wife,” his words left (y/n) moaning, walls fluttering around his cock. The scent of her perfume wrapped itself around Tommy, luring him even further into the grasp she had on his body and soul, a promise made to last for eternity, a promise broken in only a few months time.

“I love you, Thomas, I always will.”

Rain was pouring from the sky, as if nature was sharing Tommy’s pain, missing the one who had spent most of her time in their garden, the one who had talked to the flowers as if they were her friends, the one who had watched birds pick up the seeds she had left for them as if they were pilgrims sharing her path. A kind hearted soul who had paid the price for a life Tommy hadn’t been able to protect her from.

Tommy didn’t know how to make it through life without (y/n) by his side, he hadn’t lived a single day without her being part of his closest circle, glued together from birth, brought together by their mothers who had been friends for years. Ever since their first days together, Tommy had loved her, first as a friend, then as a lover, then as a husband, and now as a widower.

“Can I kiss you?” Tommy’s voice filled the evening, forcing her wide eyes towards his bright ones.

“What?” Nervous chuckles bubbled out of the young girl. She struggled to hold eye contact with Tommy, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, unable to rip herself away from the boy. It was Tommy’s fourteenth birthday, celebrating his day with (y/n) glued to his side, chasing him through the streets both knew like the back of their hands.

“It’s my birthday wish.” Heat flushed through her as Tommy carefully cupped her cheek. She knew that he had kissed other girls before, locking lips with those she envied, but not once had she been kissed, waiting for Tommy to finally give in.

“Do it.” His lips were on hers in an instant, drawing a surprised gasp from (y/n). It was a clumsy kiss both had to adjust to, but once her nerves finally let go of her, allowing the young girl to get used to the new sensation, she found herself enjoying the new feeling.

With a sigh rumbling through Tommy, he plopped down on the stairs leading up to their house, stairs she had walked with naked feet whenever she had finished her garden work. The garden had withered away with her passing as Tommy hadn’t found the strength to step foot on the grass she had cared for.

Whatever it was that now spurred him on, it forced Tommy back to his feet. The cigarette was long forgotten as he stepped foot on the wet grass, his shirt and underwear instantly soaked through by the pouring rain. He had his bright eyes focused on the weathered flowers, coming to a halt in front of one of many flowerbeds.

His hands started working, reaching for the dead flowers to rip them from the lifeless soil. And for the first time in years, he felt connected to (y/n), clinging to what she had once planted. Tears once again ran down Tommy’s cheeks as he kept working, only halting his movements as his glassy eyes found the rising sun painting the sky orange and pink.

“I’m sorry it took me this long, love.” The words were whispered, eyes unable to leave the sky as he made plans to revitalise their garden. He’d never be able to bring her back, but at least he could keep the memory of his loving wife alive.

Broken bones, you live and learn, ‘cause we don't know that a good thing ends, but someday I hope that it'll all make sense, one day you're here and one day you're gone

#Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby x reader #Peaky Blinders

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cypherscript · 3 months

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Pulling a favor

Been watching Hazbin Hotel, really enjoying it so far. Time to mix my obsessions together cause that's what we do here, ain't it?

_____________________________________________________________

"Okay, I can get you the meeting but once you're in Heaven I wont be able to go with you. Will you be okay?"

Charlie takes Lucifer's hand into hers, "I'll be fine."

Lucifer places his other hand on hers, "That's my girl". He steps back, a look of pride on his face before sighing, "Good luck, kiddo." His magic flares from the ground, taking him away in a swirl of power before he steps out into a room full of his rubber ducks. Flopping down into a pile of ducks reveals a throne like chair that he slowly sinks into. "What should I do? Heaven's never going to listen to her... but maybe... YES! Where is it?" He begins digging through the multitude of ducks before pulling out a scroll with a note, 'One Favor-open when shit hits the fan'.

With a flourish he breaks the seal on the scroll, tossing it into the air as it bursts into an acid green flame and grows larger and larger until it's nearly 6ft tall, Lucifer lowers his head: not quite a bow but somewhat respectful, "King Pariah, I have a request, I have need of-"

"Uuuuh," a voice most definitely not King Pariah spoke, "I don't know who you are but Pariah's long gone."

Lucifer looks up to see the flames displacing a human boy sitting at a table eating food with his family. "Someone... Someone defeated the Infinite King?"

"Who is it sweetie? One of your ghost friends," The mother asks as the boy stands up, grasping the 'frame' of the green fire. "Isn't Pariah the ghost that stole our town?"

"Yeah mom, I'm not sure who this is so I'll just take this into another room."

"Alright Danno, I'll save you some meatloaf," the massive man who was obviously the boys father.

Lucifer's mind was going a million mile an hour, 'The Infinite King was defeated... The scroll opened to this human boy... This boy defeated Pariah Dark in single combat... HOW?! Human's are so squishy.'

The boy released the flame to float in front of him, "So why were you trying to contact king edgelord?"

"I am... sorry... but who are you?"

"Ah... so you're not a ghost," The boy asks, tilting his head before a ring of pure white light travels over his body transforming him; hair whiter than the holy light, eyes as green as the flame he spoke into, a cloak of stars that continued for what seemed forever over a black and white hazmat suit with a crown of aurora over his head. "My name is Phantom, Pariah tried to take what was mine and I had to put him back where he came from but I suppose you've already pieced that together..." Phantom gestures to introduce himself.

"Yes sir, I have, I am Lucifer of the Morningstar."

"The archangel?"

"Yes, that's... usually not the first guess people go with, I'm also the leader of Hell. I had used this scroll to ask a favor of the Infinite King. My daughter, Charlie, is going to Heaven to meet with the other angels about this plan she has to save the sinners from being slaughtered by the angel exterminators."

"Slaughtered? Aren't they already dead?"

"Normally yes but the angel's weapons can completely destroy the sinner's soul when they're exterminated."

Phantom stills from messing with his cloak, his face stony and shadowy as the lights in the room begin to flicker, "Their souls are destroyed?"

Lucifer feels something he's not felt in a long time creep up his spine, "Yes sir, I was hoping to ask for a favor to protect Charlie while she's up there. They can easily kill her, I'll happily agree to make a deal with you for it."

"No," Phantom says, cutting Lucifer off.

"Ah... I see, thank you for your time," Lucifer goes to cut off the flame video.

"I mean 'No' to the deal. I'll help you but not for a deal, I'd also like to have a word with these angels as well"

"Oh thank you, Phantom! Do I need to bring you here?"

"No need, one second," Phantom leans away from the flame, "Can you guys put my food up?! I've got some duties to take care of love you!"

"Can do, Danno!"

"Love you, sweetie!"

"Right, step away from the flame please." Lucifer does so and Phantom steps through flame with a ripple. Once he's through the flame poofs out of existence. "Nice place, love the... ducks?"

"Ah yes, they're a project of mine..."

"Well, I've seen weirder obsessions. Now what's this about destroying souls?"

"Right, let me explain while I set up the meeting with the angels for Charlie.

_____________________________________________________________

Danny had never heard of such bullshit in his unlife and he worked with the observants for ancient's sake! He steps out of the portal provided by Lucifer, switching to his human form, to the so called Pearly Gates with some Suburbia Ken standing at a podium.

"Welcome to Heaven! May I please know your name?"

"Danny Fenton."

"Right let's see; Dan, Danielle, Ah yes, Daniel Fenton. Oh goodness, you've been dead for some time, why are you just now getting into Heaven?"

"Traffic?"

"..." The angel stands in silence then bursts into a smile, "Well regardless, welcome to heaven!" He throws open the gates and Danny steps inside, his nose twitching at the lack of anything. His eyes lock onto the tallest tower and makes his way to it, the elevator inside playing harps and lyres for elevator music. As he gets closer to his destination he can hear the angels and Charlie musically their debate.

"Ancients I hate Musical dimensions," He says as the elevator comes to a slowing stop. "Showtime," Danny smiles as his transformation takes place, the holy lights in the elevator dimming and flickering.

_____________________________________________________________

Sera looks to Charlie, "I'm sorry, the court finds that the souls in Hell can not be redeemed."

Adam is all smiles at this point, "Ohhohoho YES! I win. Suck it! You better save the day c*&ts because we're coming to your hotel first."

"Are you now?" a male voice asks from behind him, grabbing his hand as he and crushing it in his grip.

"Ah fuck, my hand! Who the fuck are you," Adam screams as the courtroom fills with the inky void of space and Phantom fades into view.

Sera looks down on Phantom and then do his crown, "What are you doing here, Phantom? You have no right to be in this court!"

"No RIGHT?! Do you know what this bastard's doing?! I have every right to be here." Phantom tosses Adam easily to the ground. "You're destroying souls!!"

Adam gets up and summons a sword and swings at Phantom with it scream, "What's it to you freak-show?! Who cares what happens those piss bastard sinners?!"

"Sinners huh? Then why are you here?" Phantom turns frigid as a chain of ice appears on Adam's neck, the end in Phantom's hand. He yanks it tightly, pulling Adam to the floor. "Mister First Sinner. How could you get into heaven?"

The other angels in the court whispering, asking the same question.

"How are you doing that?!"

"None of your business. I was hoping Lucifer's daughter would be able to talk some sense into the lot of you but it seems there's just to many rotten apples up here. Let me fix that." Phantom steps onto Adam's back, grabbing his wings and ripping them off in a quick pull, filling the court with his screams. Lute tries to come to his aid but is slammed into the ground by the inky blackness.

"Phantom that is enough," Sera shouts down to him as she flashes down to the floor, "Why are you here? How did you know know this meeting was taking place?" Phantom glances at Charlie, still holding Vaggie, causing Sera to sigh, "Of course it was Lucifer..."

"I'll freely admit he asked me to be here to watch after here but it became so much more when I found out what this asshole's been doing."

"He did what he had to do, the demons were going to rebel and we had to protect our own souls. They need to be kept in line!"

"There is no their souls or your souls. You are disrupting the balance, if you kill the soul there's going to be issues with the mortal worlds and if the mortal world goes so do yours. You were so worried about the demons attacking you? You keep destroying souls and all you're going to have to worry about is me."

"Are you threatening Heaven, Infinite King?"

The wings in Phantoms hands turn to ice and shatter into billions of pieces, "I don't make threats, Sera, I make promises." Phantom treads over to Charlie and Vaggie, thrusting his hand out and portal much like a blackhole opens up, "Come along you two." They simply step through with him as the court of angels burst into a cacophony of angelic shouts of alarm and outrage.

#dp x hazbin hotel #space ancient danny #ghost king danny #dp crossover #bamf danny phantom #hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #adam the angel #lucifer morningstar #DPXHH

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ravengards-rogue · 3 months

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[ cage training | astarion ancunin ]

✧ tags : muzzles, bdsm, sub!astarion, gender neutral + dom!reader, reader is strong (offers to carry him), dirty talk, orgasm control, feeding (?), cutting (for blood), anal (m!recieving), service dom reader, petnames (my star for astarion) a lot of alluding to hunger, more erotica than smut but 18+

✧ wc : 4.8k (what if all just kill ourselves)

✧ a/n : i dont even like this guy like this im just mentally ill about submissive men. also this is a very "read whats on the tin and make good choices" sort of fic.. i know this kind of play might be controversial for beloved white boy but they have a very loving dynamic Okay. Alright. its about Love.

ALSO. this is ASTARION FOCUSED. so reader doesn't cum (though astarion makes up for it as implied)

this is a fluke fic i cannot recommend following me for this guy!!!written mostly for a friend. had a lot of fun with this though!!!

✧ synopsis : astarion relearns manners and discipline. he's rewarded for his valiant efforts.

He comes to you wounded. Save from the scar on the curve of his spine, it's not a physical wound.

Astarion approached you like a caged lion, a circus animal - a predator paraded like a house cat who has only just remembered his teeth. That's why your empathy extended to his greed even when it caused him to wear the worst of himself. You don't think Astarion has ever understood the fact that he's hungry. He's always hungry.

He inhabits a body pushed to failure. His hunger cues are almost as ruined as he.

Like an animal in captivity, every choice he might've had to make slipped between his fingers for many years. How to live, how to hunt. Hunger is the hardest to remember, though it leaves the longest impression. It's a condition of a wounded mind. He had long since forgotten a body that knows a need stronger than staying alive.

He always waited for the violent gnawing to set in, the kind that can be ignored until it can't.

And so, his hunger became his ruin, became his new captor. Astarion met you in the midst of that delirium the first time

Once you let a captive predator free, you've damned it. A caged lion cannot become uncaged. Survival instinct has all but degraded to nothing, leaving only a wounded animal in its place.

You must nurse it to health. Care for it as it renavigates the world.

Curb its hunger when it threatens to wreak havoc.

Sanctuary. Regiment. Retraining.

It's easy enough to discern what he needs. All tender with wounds that need to be licked.

The muzzle is fitted. A gesture of glimmering gold adoration among the steely black of whips and chains.

Astarion is beautiful. Tenfold on his knees.

The leather straps pull back slight against his skin, three in total clipped together at the back of his skull. The thickest strap flattens sweet white curls, thinner ones curved around his ears and jaw.

The structured leather cage, reinforced with metal, rests over his nose and mouth. It fits better than you could've hoped. There's a collar around his neck to match it, with a weighted chain in your hand. He's looking up at you with a softened gaze, ruby red and lidded. Needy.

The velvet of the loveseat dips comfortably under your weight as you sit. Astarion stays where he is. He's as pleasant as he's capable of being, hopeful as he scoots in closer to you.

He succeeds in acting cute, naturally talented in the art of being appealing. He scoots himself close to your legs and positions himself to rest his chin on the edge of your knee.

You meet his eyes amused. You let your hand brush along the pointed shell of his ear. Little goosebumps form in the wake of your touch.

"You should know better by now that those sorts of tricks don't work on me, hm?"

He huffs. "Well that's not true. They usually do work on you. Rather well, I would say."

You pause, taken aback, before relenting with a laugh His pout endears you. You let your eyes narrow a bit in knowing.

"Not like this though. You know that very well."

His frown deepens. You really do adore him. He taps his forehead against your leg as you bite back a smile, his muzzle making the touch briefer than he'd prefer.

"Gods. Of course I know but this, this is torture, darling."

Pleasant and noncommittal, your hand cups his nape. You pet him wherever you can reach, his head before slipping along his shoulder and against your lap. You settle at his back, tracing over raised scars.

A sorrowful hum leaves your lips. Neither of you believe it.

"Torture? Perhaps I've gotten too soft if this is torture."

"Oh you're so awful," He huffs, biting his tongue and choosing to rest against your leg in frustration for a while longer. "Sure, fine - torture is too perfunctory. But it's been terribly difficult! Where is your sympathy."

"What's difficult, Astarion?"

You're being cheeky asking him. After all your rules have been clear and reinforced well for the two tendays that have passed. You've been working hard on reteaching him patience. He used to be so patient, back when you were exploring and unsettled but you've let him take too much and now he'll interrupt you at any moment just to get what he needs.

(Astarion leans on you for guidance. Of course, he has himself - has his freedom that he took with bloodied hands and a broken heart. There’s many choices that he’s able to make for himself, some of them he can’t explain even to you. Whatever they are, they’re his to make and yours to support.

It’s different though. Not having a choice, and someone making choices for him out of something inscrutable. You don’t bed Astarion until you fulfill the promise of killing his master. More accurately, you don’t lay so much as a hand on him. Only intimate, sparse touches. Only love. Only patience.

You’re disinterested in only having his body. His heart, and his mind, and his very soul - all of it. You want to grasp them so firmly and never let go. The chains and leashing and discipline are testament to what you want most of Astarion - and that’s all of him. You want to enrich him in every conceivable way. Astarion deserves the granular finery of thoughtful guidance more than anyone. He's brighter when he feels special, after all.

You’ve broken down the walls between you with a closed fist for this purpose - a not so quiet ask to love him by opening your hand. He’s given you the honor to let you think and act for him so he doesn’t have too. Duty binds you to reteaching him virtue.

It's a privilege to think for him. To wipe his bloodied mouth and care for his appearance prim and his mind sharp. No longer a matted beast but a loved, loved little vampire in the crook of your arms

You’re not strict to no end. You'd rip the Astral Planes apart in search of what he desires, should he ask it of you, after all.

Only the best for your immortal love. )

His neediness makes him more misbehaving. He’s been scaring away anyone who looks at you too long for business and otherwise, unable to keep his hand away from between your legs or his head in your lap.

"Not letting me drink your blood for two tendays is unreasonable enough but on top of that," He's exasperated just explaining the dilemma to you. His muzzle is cool against your pant leg. "On top of that I'm not even allowed any relief. Despite all of your cruelty, you wicked thing. I never took you for such a sadist."

He scoffs. There's poorly masked lust in the last sentence. You stop yourself from smiling.

"Sadist? Really? I don't see it that way. Seeing you act so desperately all this time and keeping my hands neat at my sides... I'm a paragon of patience." You pull on the leash in your hand but don't pull him forward - though you tighten your grip. "It's…good to lead by example."

Excitement flashes over his face in a short burst. It's so brilliant you swear his eyes look white instead of red.

"You cheeky little—" He huffs at you. You smile warmly as he starts to curl in on himself. He already knows how to get himself what he wants.

He gives up on pretenses. Briefly, just to beg, a monumentally hard thing. "Please. I can't take a minute more of this."

There's a croak to his voice. He has a hard time covering its tracks, even with his propensity for theatrics.

His throat is so thick with want. Something ripping at the seams of him and begging to be released.

"You've done well if it helps, but" You praise. He preens. Instantly. He squirms and wiggles around but doesn't move much more than that. "You act like I don't feed you."

"It is not the same, my love. You're well aware."

You ignore him.

"I even bring you human blood, don't I?" You tease, and his frustration darkens him. "I brought a beautiful and fresh body to drain just yesterday."

"Yes but," His hands turn to tight fists. He isn't sure what he wants to do with himself. You pet him a little more. "It's not the same, damn it. I want yours. Just yours. Just you,"

He adds the last bit quieter than the rest. Your expression is unchanged and cool though your heart might give you away with how hard it pounds.

"Just mine?" You tease. tugging at this leash a little. He makes a face like he's infuriated, a poor mask for embarrassment that endears you even more."Is that flattery?"

You're being a little mean this time. You'll make it up to him. He almost panics before he realizes just that.

"Gods you're insufferable," He complains with no bite. He's hoping for mercy you truly have no desire to give him. "You know that it's not."

"You speak so beautifully it sounds like it. Such sweet little noises you can make."

You let the heel of your boot press along Astarion's crotch. He makes one for you, involuntary - skin pink and sinful.

"See? How pretty."

Astarion is easy to bring to ruin as is. His own snark and disobedience is a poor disguise for that truth. A little tenderness and honesty makes him fall apart. Flirting back with Astarion goads him, though. Fuels his desire to win one over you. If you meet his cheekiness with more cheekiness, he won't relent at all.

Normally that kind of response would make him nip at you. It speaks to his desperation that it doesn't. That instead of making his own snarky remark, he tenses. A deep, shaky little breath. You could tip him over the edge through his clothes at this rate.

You're not so cruel. Not for today, at least.

"Sit up straight."

He does so without protest. You place a hand on his shoulder, the other one tight around the chain of his leash. Carefully, you drag your sharp nails down the front of his chest - leaving light pinkish marks on the pale skin. Over and over and over in light drags. His chest raises under the gesture, your nails scratching soft against his nipples.

"Hng," His voice is feather light. He's trembling at the slightest touch. His spine arches like he's trying to get more friction. "Don't you think you've proven your point?"

You let your palm drag down the smooth plane of his stomach, stopping at his pants. His cock twitches hard against the seam of his pants. You let a finger pull into the waistband, but don't go any farther.

"Not sure," You let the leash drop into your lap. You threaten to pull them down, but don't. Expression blank, you tilt your head to one side. "Have you learned your lesson?"

"My lesson," He repeats sarcastically. You feign innocence as you nod. "Really, darling?"

"I'm not so much of a tyrant," You let go, letting your hand cup the outline of his hard cock. "To torture you without reason, right? So what have we practiced?"

He stares. It must really be getting to him. "Patience."

"Yes. I ask you to be patient. Never kind, but patient. Because I'll give you anything you ask for if you wait. Things are better when you wait for them, right?"

He frowns in annoyance and disbelief. He's exasperated, rightfully - because you are messing with him. Just a little. "Right."

You squeeze his cock tighter. He hisses immediately, grinding into the touch. You blow hot air against his ticklish skin, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"So, have you learned your lesson?"

Your grip goes tight. Astarion craves the touch so badly. You doubt he's ever gone so long without anything at all - if the desperation he's rutting his hips with is anything to go by. His head drops heavy from his shoulders, his hands on the edge of the couch gripping for his life. Manicured nails digging into the cushion like it will save him. His voice is weary.

"Y-," He shudders but you don't let go. "Yes, I'm very sure I have."

"Oh, you're sure."

You enjoy bullying him. At a certain point, it bares itself out against all your own evading. Astarion knows it well enough, though normally it's through less truly intolerable means. Keeping him inside you soft or scraping orgasms one after another until he's too stupid too talk are favored between you.

Astarion likes being given a hard time, in general though. You're made for each other.

"Pretty little thing aren't you, my love?" You tell him, suddenly warmed. You miss the tadpole sometimes. If you could touch his mind right now, you would. Violate his thoughts with your own wants. You settle for a long stare. "So sweet,"

The anticipation makes his breath hitch. He goes completely limp in your grasp, weak and desperate. The weight of it all cracks and he looks up. His eyes glass over.

He shatters under his own need. "For the love of—please. I c-cant, I need to-"

"Shh." You quell him with a tender pet to his head. "You're looking at me so pitifully. Is it starting to be too much?"

He just nods. Your smile widens.

"You've been very patient for these two tendays, haven't you?" You lay it on thick. This is the part you like. You watch as Astarion goes boneless, the words reaching so deep into him he can do little more than collapse himself into your lap. You release all grips of him and let him hold against you soothingly, cling to your legs. "A very, very good boy for all this time. You're quite capable of it when you need to be, aren't you?"

He doesn't reply, but you can feel him melt into you further. For a minute you think you've broken him until you hear him mutter the softest yes you've ever heard.

(Astarion is not so easy to break, of course. And not so keen on opening up the softened wells of his heart to any stranger.

But he does break for you, and gods haven't you worked hard for that? It's a testament to all you've poured into him. Like you know all the right buttons to split him open tenderly.

And he lets you look. Touch and feel and cover your fingers with blood. He trusts you to stitch him closed.)

"Yes, that's right. You've learned your lesson now, and you're going to be proper and well-behaved because that's what good boys do. And Astarion is a very good boy. My very, very good boy."

He picks his head to look at you properly. He's darling. His face is flush, mouth turned into a soft pout and utterly, utterly desperate. His mouth is bitten, indented holes in soft lips.

"Yes, I'm. Please. I want you to touch me."

You aren't sure what you want to start with. He's being needy and you could almost feel guilty.

You pick up something from your side. A dagger from your days of travel. You unsheath it quickly, and let the blade cut along the tip of your middle finger. The blood comes quickly after, ruby red and thick.

Astarion goes wide eyed. He’s hungry, so hungry - like he always is. But there’s something defeated in the ways he hesitates that make you relish. You push your finger through the cage of his muzzle and tilt your head. There’s mirth in your eyes.

“Go on,” You say, tease, mock maybe. “Eat.”

He abandons restraint. All of it. You don’t make him work more for it. You push your finger down close enough for his mouth to lick at your wound and let your hand rest on the cage. He can’t get what he’s craving like this. The bone deep sensation starts to claw at him, a soft whimper tucked in the back of his throat.

More. He wants more. Of course he wants more.

“You look drunk.” You say, and there’s sharpness to your words. The ways in which Astarion is erotic have nothing to do with his theatrics. He is appealing when he’s giving up on everything but what he wants, always has been. “Have you missed it that much?”

“Yes.” He supplements, letting his tongue run over “More.”

You pull your hand away. “Take your clothes off.”

You watch Astarion scramble to stand. You bring your dagger with you then reach over to the table beside you. Scented oils roll around in the drawer. You’re careful with the blade as you fish out a bottle of it, taking it in your hands. Astarion stands naked, the heavy chain of his leash brushing against his skin.

“Kneel and lean on the couch, my love.”

Astarion is the picture of obedience. He leans on his elbows on the couch seats, with his legs spread apart, leash in a pool next to him as he folds his arms and tucks his face. You stand on your knees behind him, admiring his back in the lowlights.

Your hands rest on his thighs as you kiss up his spine. Small, short kisses all the way until you’ve reached the back of his neck. Your lips brush his nape, nose nudging against the metal of his muzzle.

Something overwhelms you. Addicting, euphoric as your clothed body drapes around Astarion, free hand on his waist - moving up his stomach to toy with his nipples. It thrums through you, listening to the ragged anticipation and distraught way he moves. Against you, against everything. Aching for touch.

You feel it overwhelmingly as you close in on his ear. Astarion huffs, long panting breaths. He needs this.

“Look at how naturally you yield to me now,” You all be coo. Astarion groans. Shuddering, your hand slides around his narrow waist and wraps a fist around his cock. He gasps. “You’ve become so pliable, so needy. But you know my star, I quite like when you’re needy.”

He hiccups and shivers and whines. “You’re the prettiest when you behave like the sweet little thing you can be, like I know you are. When you listen and yield and let me adore you in all the right ways. Such a sweet boy you can be, if only you let yourself.”

“Darling,” His voice cracks. There’s a helpless quality to it. A little more, that’s all you need. “I — you —”

You pull back and straighten your voice out, taking off Astarions muzzle after the valiant efforts he’s been making to wear it. It falls onto the couch unceremoniously.

“I’m saying, well done Astarion. I’ll reward you for all that effort. I’ll slash another scar in my hand for you to drink from and then again in the evening when I’ve recovered,” You lean back on your legs as you make promises on your own words. “I’ll bleed for you until you’ve sated yourself and let you get drunk on it. Then, when you’re malleable, I’ll fuck you. Again and again and again until you’ve all but forgotten yourself. All but forgotten who exactly you behave for.”

You open the oil and let it drip onto his back, watching mesmerized as it slips against every curve and crevice. When there’s enough to make opening him up easy, you stop and reach for your dagger.

The weapon slashes over the same wound. You’ve done this tens of times now. You don’t let the scars heal with a potion or some kind of spell. Astarion is far from the comfort of romance, but it is its own promise. Your scar is his.

The pain is brief, but it’s enough to feel it. You don’t flinch, though. When the blood finally seeps from it, you find yourself over Astarions back once again.

You let your bleeding palms clamp over his mouth. It’s as close to sacred as you can forge between you. Astarion moans. It is shameless. Pitchy, high with want and utterly broken. He laps at the blood like a dog, his tongue sharp against the familiar wound. You can feel his body twitch beneath you, the muffled sounds of his voice.

There is no performance in that kind of pleasure, but the amount of arousal that spikes Astarion’s whole body never fails to surprise you.

When he’s feeding from you, you busy your other hand with fucking him open on your fingers. Your dominant hand slips down the smooth curve of his spine, oiled skin soft and cool under your palms. He’s built like a dancer, beautiful curves. He’s a little softer now that he eats well. It looks good on him.

You let your middle finger brush over his hole, relishing in the soft gasp he lets out as you do. Astarion’s aroused enough to accommodate you as you circle it. The tight ring of muscle is familiar, and welcoming to your touch. You don’t need to teach Astarion to breathe, don’t need to remind him of it. You can feel his whole body push along your hands as if urging you towards him. You’re too delicate about the matter for his time.

Astarion is warmer inside than he is out. It fascinates you, makes your own stomach churn with want as your middle finger curves slowly. You pump in short motions until the resistance is all but gone. When you’ve made it as far as the knuckle of your middle finger, you start to search. You curl and press yourself against soft insides, search and search for what you’re looking for.

Astarion lurches forward when you find it. The most pitiful little moan you’ve ever heard squeaks out from his lips, against your hand.

“That’s it, isn’t it? Right there?”

Astarion makes noncommittal noises as you repeat the process again. Another finger, your ringer - spreading him open. Tight hole giving into your touch, filling him. Your mouth kisses the skin that you can reach. You peck and bite along the curve of his shoulders and all over his back as your ring finger penetrates him. His insides soften as you find your pace.

You see his hands start to fidget, but you chide him before he can do it.

“Not yet. You can touch yourself when I tell you too. Not before.”

Astarion needs more than this. You’ll give it to him, but patience is the virtue here.

You don’t know how long that’s going to stick though. The way Astarion is shaking underneath doesn’t give you confidence he’s going to hold out long enough for you to take him apart like you want. You’ll give him something proper later, when he’s not so pent you think the slight brush of skin could make him cum.

You do, desperately, want to see Astarion cum. But it has to be done the right way, or everything would go to waste in a single moment. You fuck him open on your fingers with a pinpoint pressure and accuracy, gauging his every move with the little gestures of his body. You know perfectly, know every inch of him inside and out like a book you’ve read page to page with the corners turned. The way he sways, lays intimately on the edge of cumming but never quite pushing himself over the finish line, speaks to that.

That, and the way he licks the blood from your palm like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted in his life. You can feel it, how messy it is - lapping at the split wound. Sharp unruly teeth digging into your skin, the soft breath of his nose tickling your hand as you cup his mouth. He licks so fervently, like it’s mouthwatering enough to die for.

It doesn’t help the arousal between your legs. It’d be damning for him to know how affected you are by this. By him.

“My beautiful boy,” Your voice is thick with desire. You can’t help yourself, the low possession laced it in. “Fucking perfect,”

“My love,” The words muffle against your palm. You move your hand away to let him speak and his face moves instinctually to bury himself back in it. “P-please. Let me touch myself, it aches,”

You weigh it for a minute, watching his body lurch forward as you fingerfuck him. You make a noise in the back of your throat, dropping your forehead against his spine - adrenaline making sweat drip down the crown of your head.

“Poor thing. Aches does it? Touch yourself for me, Astarion. I want to see you make a mess.”

He groans, hands moving immediately to fist his cock. You can hear it, the sound of him fucking his own fist like a wet, welcoming hole - cock wet and dripping with prespend. Astarions whole body starts to fall limp. His face pushed into the seat, little wet sobs spilling from his lips as he swears over and over.

It doesn’t take any time for his body to give into the feeling of being pleasured from all angles. You feel his face nudge against your hand for blood as his muscles start to go tighter and tighter.

“Shit,” He huffs, pushing himself back into your hands. “I’m going to cum.”

You keep your other hand in place, pace steady.

“Cum for me, baby. That’s it, easy does it.”

It happens so quickly you’re not sure if you should be impressed or if you should laugh affectionately. You can feel it, the way his hips stutter to a stop, his whole body grinding against you and holding tight to whatever he can cling to for purchase. His body weakens under the weight of your own, going completely tight like a bowstring before falling utterly helpless. Astarion moans loud when he cums, thick white ropes of it dressing the upholstery of the couch and falling to the floor. It’s an impressive amount. Save for what lands on the velvet, it pools thick and heavy. There’s so much, it’s like he can’t stop cumming. At least a minute passes before the twitching ceases.

He lays there, ragged and weightless and limp. You take your hand away from his mouth and slowly ease yourself out of him as he stays and catches his breath. You press soft, warm pecks up his spine.

You move away from him to give him some space to breathe, sitting back criss-cross on the ground. Astarion has no intention of getting up on his own, though. Before you can make sense of it, he crawls over to you. He must be worn out, given how willingly he’s coming into your arms in pure exhaustion. His cock is spent, soft against his belly and pink. He’s still naked and leashed.

Still needy, but the lust has subsided if only a little. Astarion seats himself between your open legs. You laugh lightly, letting him rest in your side - face in the crook of your neck in utter exhaustion.

“Hero of Baldurs Gate this, savior of the city that. I know evil when I see it, darling. Just outright cruel.”

You break out into a laugh at the change in behavior as he pulls away to look at you. His eyes are remarkably watery.

“That claim is undermined by that mess you’ve made on the floor there. Did you enjoy yourself?”

He almost looks embarrassed by it, a pinkish tint turning the tips of his ears bright.

“You’ve given me two terrible choices. I say yes and you think it’s a clever idea to do it again or I say no and I never experience whatever that was again in my life. A lose-lose situation.”

“So you did enjoy it,” You say warmly. Astarion scoffs but doesn’t protest. “I’m glad. You’re very attractive when you’re pitiful.”

“What despicable taste. I’m beautiful irregardless.”

You let your head bump against his, and Astarion half-heartedly returns the gesture. “That’s true. A sight for sore eyes as they say.”

“If you’re true to your word then I’ve earned a little more than just one,” Astarion purrs. Before that, he examines your (still bleeding hand) and picks your palm up to kiss. You grin wildy at his tongue lapping over the wound. “And you’re properly pent up, aren’t you? Let's get this cleaned up and let the real fun begin.”

“Aren’t you insatiable today? As you wish, my prince. We can move upstairs.”

He bemoans this. “You’ll have to drag my undead body up there if you’re asking me to get on my own two feet.”

“Or I could carry you like a bride.”

“A bride? How ostentatious. I’ll allow it.” Astarion says, then adds more quietly. “But we can stay… here a little longer first.”

You hum against his skin, peppering his face with soft kisses; he doesn't turn you away from the skinship, which you’re pleased by. “Of course my love,”

He lays in your arms quietly and the thought reaffirms itself. You’d do anything for him.

✧ a/n : no one is more upset by the length of this than me. trust and believe this. also sorry for the yapping i just... posting this is so foreboding. it feels like that picture of spongebob who puts his hands up so a car doesn't fall on him. i am Afraid.

maybe ill write a part two of him eating box or something. we'll see. anyway thanks for reading </3. please do rb if you enjoyed. so scared to be in the tags for this.

#rogues love letters #bg3 x reader #astarion x reader #astarion smut #bg3 smut #baldurs gate x reader #what other tags..idk..#this fucking thing cooked me to death i hate this guy BOOO throws tomatoes at him #zeros.dr #sub astarion

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