#there's so much started but I can't focus on it
Note
WORKING OUT WITH NANAMI PLEASE!
❥ Synopsis You want to get stronger? Nanami might just be the best person to help you with that.
❥ Pairing Nanami Kento x fem!reader
❥ Content explicit content! 18+, Minors DNI, foul language, working out afab!reader, teacher!reader, dom!Nanami, unprotected sex, Nanami is kinda mean, creampie, implied mutual pining, masturbation (m! receiving), vaginal sex, clitoral play, slight breeding kink, slight hate fucking at first, pet names (pretty girl, darling) dirty talk, fingering, oral (f! receiving), Nanami loves eating possay, doggy style, missionary, aftercare, Nanami being a gentleman, kissing/making out, praise, degredation if you squint, ripping clothes, teasing, porn with plot
❥ Word Count 3.4k
❥ A/N HELP THIS IS MY FIRST SMUT I'M SORRY IF IT SUCKS I'M REALLY EMBARRASSED RN BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT Anway I have no idea about working out and how to write it?? so I hope this was okay and doesn't suck too bad c: Thank you for your request!
PS i'm sorry if the requests are taking too long :( i'm not really used to writing this much lolol but i plan on doing them all, and I'm really excited about SatoSugu fluff that someone requested :D
!NSFW UNDER THE CUT!
Sweating It Out
"Faster. If you want to land a critical hit on your opponent, you have to charge at them like you mean it." Nanami's voice echoes through the courtyard of the school.
"Search for their weak point," He tightens the tie around his neck as he steps closer to her body on the ground. "You need to work on your form and condition." a quiet sigh leaves his lips as he helps her up from the floor in one swift motion.
You brush the dirt off your sports clothes and look up at him with a slight pout. "Easy for you to say," the back of your hand wipes across your cheek to get rid of the remaining grime. "I don't even know how I got this job in the first place." a soft chuckle escapes you.
A hint of amusement flickers across his stoic face. "Modesty becomes you. You're better than you think." his eyes scan your face for a moment. "We've still got a lot of work to do if you want to improve those reflexes of yours. If you're comfortable with it, I would help you do some simple work out back at my apartment." he gestures towards the parking lot, where his car is waiting.
"And by work, I mean actual physical exercise, not just tossing around excuses." Nanami remarks smugly, making your lips part in surprise. "Wha- I'm not 'tossing around excuses', thank you very much." The audacity of this stupid, attractive man. You let out a playful huff and fix your hair. "Although I do find it rather surprising that you would invite me to your place."
Nanami chuckles, the low sound and smooth "Formalities aside, I'm willing to make an exception for you. After all, someone needs to whip you into shape." his gaze lingers on hers, a subtle spark of attraction evident beneath the surface. "Shall we?" without waiting for an answer he starts walking towards his car.
"Hey, I would say I'm in pretty good shape.. physically wise." you remark teasingly with a soft chuckle as you follow him towards his car.
You get greeted with the sight of a raised, skeptical eyebrow from him. "Is that so? Then perhaps we'll focus on refining your technique instead. You can't rely solely on brute force. Strategy and finesse are just as crucial." he opens the passenger door for her, his movements fluid and courteous. "Besides, I have a few.. exercises in mind that might put your physical prowess to the test." Nanami's tone remains formal, but a hint of suggestiveness creeps into his words.
"Great, can't wait.." you groan in exhaustion, not noticing his suggestive hint. Your head rests against the window of his car while you wait for the arrival to his apartment. Trees, pedestrians and other cars move by in a blur as you look out the clean window.
His eyes glance at her briefly, a fleeting glimpse of amusement crossing his features before focusing back on the road ahead. "I suppose you should conserve your energy then. We'll be getting started shortly." Nanami's voice remains steady, betraying no emotion, but his grip on the steering wheel tightens ever so slightly as he accelerates onto the highway.
He emerges from the driver's side, his suit jacket fluttering open to reveal his crisp blue shirt underneath. "Please, come in." his hand gestures towards the entrance as he leads the way inside to his apartment. "We will start with some stretching exercises. I have a few routines that will help improve flexibility and balance." his tone remains professional, but his gaze lingers on her for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.
"In that?" you point towards his clothes. "Scratch that actually, I'm the only one doing this, aren't I?" a sigh escapes you. You put down your bag on the floor and stretch your arms above your head.
Nanami pauses, one hand resting on the doorknob as he turns to regard you. "Ah, good point. Don't worry, I will change into something more suitable and join you." his gaze travels down her form, lingering on her curves before snapping back up to meet her gaze. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back." With a brief nod, he disapears into the bedroom, leaving you alone in the living room.
So here you were, alone in the apartment of your colleague who you have been crushing on for a year now. Totally fine, right?
You slap both palms of your hands against your cheeks and shake your head. Trying to distract yourself, you walk around his living room, taking in the minimal decorations. Your head turns towards his bedroom door as he re-emerges from the room, now clad in some sweatpants and a tight fitted shirt, showcasing his toned physique.
"Now then, shall we begin with some light cardio to loosen up your muscles?" his tone remains formal, yet a hint of anticipation underlies his words as he approaches her, his eyes locked on hers. "Alright, but don't be too hard on me - again." you chuckle and wait for his instructions.
"I assure you, I will push you to your limits but not beyond. Now, let's start with some jumping jacks. Twenty reps, please." he stands with his arms crossed, watching her every move with an air of authority, my gaze scrutinizing her form.
"Ah.. seriously? Isn't that like some high school stuff though?" you sigh and get into position as you start doing jumping jacks. His expression remains stern, unyielding to your protests. "High school or not, it's essential to build a solid foundation. You'd be surprised how many experienced practitioners neglect the basics. Focus on your form, and don't slacken your pace," he takes a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he monitors your performance. "Focus on my form? With jumping jacks? Okay then.."
Nanami observes her movements, his sructiny unwavering. "Not bad. However, I detect a slight imbalance in your landing. Remember to distribute your weight evenly between both legs. And keep your core engaged." his voice remains firm, yet measured, as he provides constructive feedback. "Yeah, yeah.." you answer and keep your lips pressed into a thin line.
"I suggest you adopt a more receptive attitude. This isn't a trivial matter. Proper form is crucial to avoiding injuries and optimizing performance. Try again, and this time, heed my corrections."
"Why do I feel like a student all over again?" you sigh in slight annoyance and stop your jumping jacks. "Fine, fine."
He gives you a curt nod, acknowledging your efforts. "Better. Much better. Your posture has improved, and your footwork is more precise. Not, let's move on to the next exercise. We'll focus on building your strength now." he gestures towards the adjacent room, where various pieces of equipment are set up. "Please proceed to the pull-up bar. I'll demonstrate the proper technique."
You glance around the room, taking in various fitness gadgets in surprise. "Wow, Nanami.. didn't expect you to be that type of man. You know, the type who is so obsessed with working out." you let out a playful hum.
"This is not about personal indulgences. A well-equipped training area is essential for optimal results." he leads the way to the pull-up bar, his movements efficient and purposeful. "Now, pay attention. The key to a successful pull-up lies in engaging your latissimus dorsi muscles," Nanami begins to demonstrate the correct form, his words punctuated by precise motions.
"My what now?" you mumble to yourself in utter confusion. Your gaze drifts towards his working form, hungry eyes lingering on the veins popping out on his forearms every time he pulls himself up. Just then he halts mid-pull-up, his eyes locking onto yours with a faint glint of amusement flickering within. "Latissimus dorsi. The largest muscle in your back. Focus, please."
He releases the bar, dropping back down on the ground with ease. With a scoff you cross your arms over your chest, "Whatever, let me give it a go, Mr. Know It All." you joke lightly and grab onto the pull-up bar before lifting yourself up slowly. Nanami stand back, observing your form with a discerning eye. "You're managing to engage your lats somewhat, However, your grip could be wider, and your body straighter. Allow me to assist."
Nanami approaches her, his big hands closing around her waist as he adjusts her position, his fingers splayed wide. "Feel the stretch in your back, and maintain control throughout the movement." his voice stays calm, but the intimate proximity of your bodies sends a spark of pleasure shooting through his body. At the same time you bite down on the inside of your cheek as his strong hands grab you.
You feel grateful that your back is turned towards him, this way he can't see your cheeks turning a soft pink. "Aren't you straightforward?" you chuckle.
Ignoring your words, Nanami's grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly, his fingers pressing into your skin ever so slightly. "Focus on your form. One more rep, please."
"Yes, Sir." an innocent hum leaves you as you begin to pull your body back up the pull-up bar, letting out soft breaths now and then.
His fingers seem to linger on her skin for a moment before releasing her. "Proceed to the mat. We will work on some grappling techniques." With a soft thud, you let yourself go from the gadget. "Grappling? So you can kick my ass again? Just what I want," she sighs and takes her place on the mat.
"Grappling is an essential aspect. You can't always count on your cursed technique. It requires strategy, agility, and control. Let us focus on some basic escapes and submissions." he assumes a neutral stance opposite her. "Let's begin with a simple wrist lock escape. Observe closely, and replicate my movements precisely." he extends his arm, offering her his wrist.
"Bla bla." you abruptly grab his wrist and twist it to push him down onto the mat with a controlled thud "Easy," a satisfied smile forms on your face. "Good initiative, but poor execution. You relied on brute force rather than technique." he pulls himself out of your grasp and rises to his feet, brushing off imaginary dirt from his clothes. "Again."
"This sucks.." you sigh and run a hand down your face in frustration. "Can't we do something fun instead? Like, fuck I don't know, chess. Would be way more fun than this." you grimace before grabbing his wrist once more to push him down and lower your body to sit on his back to hold him down.
Nanami remains composed, unfazed by her antics, as he lies beneath her, his wrists still clasped in her grasp. "You can have fun some other time." his tone maintains its formal quality, despite the unusual position they find themselves in. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe we've digressed sufficiently. Let's refocus on the task at hand. Release my wrist." he issues the command calmly.
You glance down at the side of his face with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Hm.. no." You feel his body tense beneath you, his muscles coiling in anticipation. "I see. It appears you're blurring the lines between playful banter and actual combat. I suggest you clarify your intentions."
"You could just roll over and pin me down with ease, Nanami.. Why haven't you done it yet if you are oh so irritated about my antics?" you tease him softly and lean your head closer towards his ear.
In just a moment his body is springing into action as he swiftly flips them over, pinning her beneath him. "Satisfied? Now, shall we resume the lesson, or would you prefer to continue exploring.. other avenues?"
You feel your body growing hot under his intense gaze, "Other avenues? Please, do tell." you wrap one leg around his waist to pull him closer, feeling his growing hardness press against your inner thigh making him grit his teeth ever so slightly.
"Hm, it seems you require a demonstration of the consequences of testing boundaries." he leans closer, his lips inches from yours. This is no longer a lesson for combat, but a display of discipline."
"Aren't you tough? All bark and no bit-" your taunts gets silenced as he claims your mouth in a firm kiss. Out of instinct, your press your chest further into his, deepening the kiss in the process. A soft moan of desperation leaves your mouth that gets swallowed by his own.
Nanami's tongue probes the depths of her mouth, his long fingers maintaining a firm grip on her waist and wrists. He breaks away from the kiss, his breathing heavy. "Now, shall we proceed to the next stage of this.. lesson?" he rocks his hips into hers, eliciting a quiet gasp from her. "Cut the teacher crap, Nanami." she breathes out hotly against his wet lips. "As you wish, but you will receive exactly what you're asking for." With that, he sweeps her up in his arms, carrying her towards the bedroom.
He deposits her on the bed, his tall form towering over her as he looks down at her flushed and desperate expression. "Undress. Now." his tone brooks no argument, as he begins to shed his own clothes with deliberate slowness.
Her eyes wander over his now exposed body, lingering on his cock that leaks with pre-cum already. Out of reflex, she runs her tongue over her kiss-bruised lips, making him flex his fists for a moment. "Mh.. I don't wanna," she bites back a smirk.
"Very well. If you insist on playing games, I will play too." With a swift motion, he reaches out and rips the shirt open, baring her torso to his hungry gaze. "What the fuck! I loved that shirt, aw." she pouts up at him with furrowed brows before glancing back at the now broken fabric on the floor.
Nanami raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I'll buy you a new one, and also.. no bra? Naughty girl. Must have slipped my sight." he remarks, his gaze roving over her bared skin, eyes lingering on her perky nipples exposed to the cool air in the room. "Now, will you take off the rest of your clothes? Or should I do it for yo-"
"No, I'll do it myself this time." you scoff lightly and stand up to pull your leggings down, seeing Nanami's eyes following your every move. "Fuck.." you hear him mutter to himself - and god, was it hot to see him loose his composure. "Turn around and bend over, let me see all of you, pretty girl." A pleased hum escapes your lips as you do just that. You bend down over his bed, the soft sheets brushing against your skin, and the smell of him filling your nostrils.
"Mmh.. you know exactly how to tease me, don't you?" Nanami reaches out, his hand reaching out to run over the contour of her ass, the touch feather-light, while his other hand reaches down to stroke himself slowly. "Look at you," he whispers, his breath caressing the skin just above the waistband of her panties. "I can already see how wet you are. Is that because of me? Hm, pretty girl?"
You only manage to get out a weak nod accompanied by a soft whimper as he lets out a throaty chuckle. His fingers hook into the waistband and slowly peels her panties down, revealing her soaking pussy to his eyes. He settles onto his knees on the floor behind her. "Been craving your pussy so often, gosh.." he moans softly as he keeps his gaze fixated on your entrance while fisting his own arousal.
With a glance behind you, you see the scene unfold with hooded eyes. Just that alone makes your pussy clench around nothing. "Nanami.. don't tease me, please."
"I won't.. fuck, I won't." he breathes against your wetness, making you shiver before his tongue slides into the slick folds of your pussy. "Mmh, pussy tastes even better than I imagined." You stuff your face into his sheets as you feel his hot tongue run through your folds. "Oh god- hah,"
His hand leaves his cock, solely focusing on her pleasure as he holds her hips in place. "You like that? You like my tongue inside you, licking your sweet little cunt?" his voice muffled against her flesh, as he works her into a frenzy while his own hips desperately buck against his bed to relieve some tension. "Ohh, fuck.. Your tongue feels so fucking good!" she sobs into the fabric of the bed.
"Come for me, pretty girl. Come all over my face." he let's out a soft groan as he redoubles his efforts, desperate to drive her towards orgasm as he slowly enters two fingers inside her pulsing cunt.
She desperately pushes back against him, needing more. "Hah.. Nanami, please- fuck me already." His eyes flash in excitement, ceasing his oral assault as he stands back up to his full height. His angry red tip glistens with pre-cum, his hands running along her cheeks. "Turn around for me. I want to see your pretty face when you come."
And you do just that, laying down on your back as you glance up at him. He gently grabs your ankles and pulls you towards him as he lines his hard cock up at your entrance, poised to thrust deep. You impatiently wiggle your hips, wanting him to finally take you. You've been waiting for a whole year, after all. So if he doesn't start fucking you right this inst-
"Hah!" You throw your head back with a high-pitched moan as he slowly thrusts forward, his cock sinking deep into your pussy, filling you to the brim as he groans in satisfaction. "Fuck.. so hot." he mutters, hips drawing back before plunging forward once more, setting a slow yet deep pace. "Is this what you wanted? That I fuck you?" he grunts, his strokes growing more frenzied, his cock throbbing inside you.
The only thing that you can do is grip the sheets beside you and hide your flushed, pathetic face in them, frantically trying to hide your arousal.
His chest presses against hers as he leans forward, his arm wrapping around her waist to hold her in place. "Don't hide from me, Darling. Look at me." he demands, voice rough with exertion as he continues pounding into her. "Watch me as I make you come," his other hand snakes around to grasp her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze as he himself drives towards climax.
Her eyes are unfocused as she gazes up at him, her mouth falling open as he fucks into her deep. "Oh f-fuck.. ngh, your cock feels so good!" she bites down on her bottom lip, his balls slapping against her ass cheeks with every thrust.
"You're going to take every last drop of my cum. You're going to milk me dry and beg for more, aren't you?" he coos into her ear. "I'm going to fill you so full of cum you will be dripping with it for hours.." his hand let's go of your chin, reaching down to rub your swollen clit in slow circles with the pad of his thumb. "I can feel you clenching.. are you close? Want you to come all over my cock, can you do that for me?"
Without even giving it a thought, your toes curl and your back arches up into him as your orgasm washes over you with a loud whine. Nanami hisses when your pussy tightens up. His cock surges deep one final time before erupting in a torrent of cum, flooding your hole with his seed.
He collapses forward, his chest heaving with exhaustion as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close.
You both lay there for a few minutes, catching your breaths. You feel him slowly pull out of you, making you both let out a soft gasp. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?" his thumb runs over your cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours. "I hope I wasn't too rough-"
You interrupt him with a kiss, this one far more gentle than the others. "I'm fine, it was perfect. But.. you can make it up to me with dinner?" you glance away nervously, scared of rejection after what just happened.
What if he only saw this as a one time thing? You did rile him up quite a bit, maybe that was just him being a man. But is Nanami really that kind of man? Perhaps he doesn't even like you and this was hate sex? Plus, you both are colleagues. That would be really unprofessio-
"Of course, is there a specific place you would like to eat at?"
Oh.
♡ fanart from @ilameys on twitter ♡
♡ divider by @benkeibear ♡
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen nanami#nanami kento#jjk smut#nanami smut#jujutsu nanami#jjk nanami#nanami x reader#kento nanami#kento smut#kento x reader#kento x y/n#kento x you#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#nanami kento x y/n#smut#one shot#fem reader#x reader
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Possessive nature
Note: I'm sorry. I don't know English so I used Google Translate, I apologize if something is not understood.
**In one universe, ghosts pose no significant danger. In another, ghosts are terrifying creatures: territorial, aggressive, and in extreme cases, extremely possessive, especially when it comes to their partners.**
**Danny is desperate not to hurt his boyfriend. Jason, on the other hand, wishes his boyfriend would hurt him.**
… — One-shot (??Chapter 1??) — …
It was supposed to be just one night of fun. However, one night turned into two, then three, then four, and before he realized it, he was already in love.
It was on one of those nights when he wondered: Should he blame himself, or blame him for being so irresistibly cute? What started as a relationship based on mutual pleasure transformed into something deeper.
The affection expressed in every conversation terrified Danny. He knew that at some point he wouldn't be able to control himself and would mark Jason as his. Oh, right now he was crying in his heart.
He took a bite of his yogurt with cereal.
It's better to forget everything and focus on his breakfast. It was a normal morning for Danny: waking up next to this cute boy and then having breakfast together. Watching Jason prepare the kettle, with his back to him, offered a beautiful view of a certain part of his body. Danny's eyes darkened.
<A bite on his neck would look so pretty.>
He shook his head. Lately, he had been having these strange thoughts, like a voice in his head telling him how much he wanted to fuck Jason, and not in a good way.
"I've been thinking about us," Jason said suddenly.
Danny choked on his food.
He watched Jason, who avoided his gaze. With a cup of coffee in hand, Jason sat across from him at the table and continued to ignore Danny's nervousness. What else could this mean? It's obvious that Jason wants to end the relationship they have.
It's a good thing, Danny thought, so he wouldn't hurt him with his possessive nature. You have to let go of the people you love.
<But he's mine.>
He dismissed that voice. "I-is that so?" he asked. He stopped eating, preferring to leave the bowl along with the spoon on the table, he no longer had an appetite. Jason nodded. Wow, then this really means no more seeing Jason, it's okay, yes, it's okay, everything is okay. "I..."
He didn't have the strength to discuss this.
<I must lock him up.>
No, that's wrong.
<I'll cut off his legs so he can't escape.>
What's wrong with you?! Danny clutched his head. Of all the bizarre thoughts he's had, this is undoubtedly the worst of all, and he has a feeling it won't be the last. Sigh, Jazz didn't raise him this way.
Silence made its presence known.
Jason took a deep breath, looking at Danny with a mix of nervousness and determination. The moment had arrived. "I've been thinking about us, Danny," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "What started as... well, you know, something casual... has turned into something much more important to me."
Danny watched him in silence, his eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and hope. Could it be?
"I love you," Jason confessed, averting his gaze briefly before meeting Danny's eyes again. "I know this may sound sudden or even ridiculous, but I can't keep pretending we're just friends with benefits."
He paused, taking a sip of coffee as if to gather the courage to continue. "What I mean is... I want us to be something more. I want a real relationship with you. I know it's risky and it could go wrong, but I'd rather try than continue like this and never know what we could have been."
His eyes reflected a mix of fear and hope. "Do you... do you feel the same?"
Yes, Ancients, fuck yes!
He knew there was a possibility that his ghost side could hurt Jason. Nonetheless, he was also excited to be with the boy of his dreams, the man who made him sigh.
<Mine.>
So he jumped up and ran to Jason, despite being barely separated by a table. He reached out and pulled him close, lifting him with a radiant smile on his face, overwhelmed with happiness. This was the best day of his half-life.
<Mine, mine.>
"I love you too!" There was no room for argument; Danny's feelings were so pure that they easily reflected in his eyes, a look directed only at Jason. Jason's heart raced, and as a result, his face turned the same color as his helmet: red.
Jason let out a nervous laugh, his hands clutching Danny's shoulders for stability. "Really?" he asked, his voice trembling with emotion. "Is this real?"
Danny nodded, his smile widening. "Yes, it's real. You are real. We are real," he replied firmly, his words filled with conviction. "I want to be with you, Jason. No more doubts, no more games. Just you and me, together."
Jason let out a sigh of relief, his eyes shining with tears of happiness. "So, does this mean that... we're boyfriends now?" he asked with a shy smile.
Danny pulled him even closer, his lips brushing Jason's forehead in a tender gesture. "Yes, we're boyfriends. And I won't let anything or anyone come between us," he said with determination, sealing his words with a soft, tender kiss.
<Mine, mine, mine!>
The ecstasy of the moment prevented Danny from foreseeing the terrible fate that awaited him. Frostbite had warned him that ghosts are ridiculously possessive with their partners, to the point of committing madness for each other and going beyond established limits. In the devilish game of balance between madness and reason, thus began Danny's torment to repress his desires.
Well, it's not like Jason has problems with Danny's possessiveness. After all, he's also crazy about him. They are made for each other.
... -The end-...
Note: I'm sorry. I don't know English so I used Google Translate, I apologize if something is not understood.
#dead on main#dp x dc#batpham#danny phantom#dc x dp#dp x dc crossover#jason todd x danny fenton#danny fenton x jason todd#dp crossover#dp x dc prompt#dp x dc fic#dcxdp#idea prompt#Yandere(?)#possesive love#possesive yandere#possession#possessive#???
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Can I request dating headcanons for Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub with gn s/o?
𝓓𝓐𝓣𝓘𝓝𝓖 𝓗𝓒𝓢
A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! I’m sorry it took so long but I hope you enjoy it! :}
DISCLAIMER: None of these are really connected.
WARNINGS: Mention of sex in Asmo's part.
CHARACTERS: Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mammon:
Sometimes when he gets money, he’ll take you out on a date. He takes you to super expensive places to blow all his money on you.
He'll use his crows to watch over you whenever he's busy. His crows sometimes bring you little trinkets.
Brags about you to everyone. He's your first man! He has to let everyone know that.
Whenever his brothers insults gets too much, he'll seek you out. Sometimes it ends with him crying while you hold him close.
Leviathan:
He loves cuddling up in his tub to watch an anime. He tries to focus on the anime, but he can't whenever you're in his arms.
It takes a bit, but he starts to initiate kisses and hugs. He'll become super flustered and run away after though.
He tries to go out whenever you do to spend time with you. Sometimes it ends up with him hiding behind you from the "normies".
Whenever he's in his demon form, he'll use his tail to keep you close. Sometimes he doesn't notice he does it until you point it out.
Satan:
Whenever he has time, he likes to cuddle up to you and read. Especially when it's nighttime.
Takes you out frequently to the nearest cat cafe. He has a lot of pictures of you and the cats.
He likes to get together with you to play pranks on Lucifer. If you guys get caught, then he'll take full responsibility for it. He doesn't want you to get punished.
He tries so hard to control his anger. He's doesn't want to end up hurting you one day because he couldn't control it.
Asmodeus:
Will make sure you have the perfect routine for your skin. He'll even get it made specifically for you.
Loves to do your nails. It's perfect bonding time and he likes to match with you!
He loves to spray his perfume on you, so everyone knows that you're his.
He has never felt this way before you. He always only sees people for sex, never love. He absolutely loves you.
Beelzebub:
He loves food but he loves you much more. He'll share his food if he feels like you don't eat enough.
During his Fangol games, he'll look for you in the crowd. He always does better when you're cheering for him.
When the memories get too much, he'll look for you. Even just being near you makes them go away.
This man is like a human (demon?) heater. If you get cold, he'll always be there to warm you up.
#reader insert#obey me hcs#obey me#obey me nightbringer#obey me mammon#obey me beelzebub#obey me leviathan#obey me asmodeus#obey me satan#obey me mammon x reader#obey me asmo x reader#obey me levi x reader#obey me beel x reader#obey me satan x reader#obey me x reader#obey me x gn!reader#gn!reader#gn!y/n#gn!mc
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Eden's Heir, chapter 4 - The Jump.
I can't believe it's been almost a year since I updated this. A lot has happened recently, not all of it good, but I'm still here, and will continue to be by hook or by crook!
I've had to cut it into two chapters because the final fight between the Slag Demon and the Horsemen is taking way too long to write. Good news though, there'll be two chapters in [hopefully] quick succession. Hooray!
Hope you like this one, guys, thank you all so much for standing by me and waiting so patiently.. I don't know where I'd be without your support. <3 <3 <3
Summary:
As you grapple with the horrifying, new reality you've found yourself in, Strife continues to torment you in the misguided hope that somehow, you'll spontaneously start to like him. His jokes are terrible. It's just a shame you have a weakness for terrible jokes.
War, meanwhile, can't stop his eyes from wandering to your fresh, undeserved scar...
You suppose that when Strife said this would be ‘fun,’ he was only factoring himself into the equation. Because for you, there’s nothing very fun about having your particles ripped apart and rocketed through a portal which, according to modern science, should not and does not exist.
Well, modern science owes you a formal apology.
As it turns out, portals very much do exist, and they’re a lot less fun than the media has led you to believe.
The experience - though you hesitate to give it such a mundane moniker - isn’t… painful, per se, mostly because the whole process is over and done with so quickly that your brain and body aren’t given the time to notice that they’ve been squished through one end of a worm hole, reassembled atom by atom, and then spat out on the other side.
Perhaps more disconcertingly than the feeling itself is the fact that when you’re hanging for that split-second moment in a space outside of existence itself, you notice that the temperature around you inexplicably skyrockets.
And frankly, you’re not sure which is worse… The stale, unwelcoming chill of the Void, or the absolute blistering inferno that greets you within less than a second of leaving it.
Before you can even open your mouth to scream at the unnatural process your very human body is being subjected to, the space around you solidifies and stabilises again, and an unexpected jolt shoots straight through you when Strife’s metal boots collide with a hard, stone surface, jarring your stomach painfully against his shoulder pauldron.
At the same time, a wave of hot, dry air sweeps over you from head to toe, cloaking you in uncomfortable and immediate warmth that’s downright oppressive, thick and inescapable, as if you’ve just been tossed onto the fiery surface of the sun and left to sizzle.
Actually, now that you’ve experienced both extremes, perhaps you are sure which is worse. At least that sinister demon’s Void didn’t make you want to peel yourself out of your own skin.
Groaning miserably, you pick your hazy head up and suck in a breath that goes down about as well as spoiled meat, and then nearly retch at the unpleasant texture of heat sliding down the walls of your oesophagus like something squirming and alive.
Even the metal chain on your bag begins to grow warm against the skin of your neck, dangling down below your head near the Horseman’s holsters.
“Hot damn,” Strife announces, concisely putting a voice to your thoughts.
Your lashes are sticky from leftover tears, clumping together when you squeeze your eyes shut and attempt to pry them apart again. It takes a few arduous blinks before your blurry surroundings bleed into focus.
You rather wish you’d just kept your head down and your eyes firmly shut.
If there were any doubts left in your mind that teleportation really is possible, they swiftly fly out of the proverbial window when you catch your first, proper glimpse of the surroundings.
Wherever you are, it definitely isn’t the same place you were in barely ten seconds ago.
Bracing a palm against Strife’s solidly armoured back, you lever your torso up slightly to give yourself a better view of the world around you.
It seems that the portal – your brain starts to ache as it tries to accept the existence of those – has spat you out underneath the roof of an absolutely gargantuan cavern.
Roving your gaze back and forth, mouth ajar, you notice the walls, floor and ceiling are made entirely of dark, igneous rock, and yet all around you, you start to spot signs of… Well, perhaps not civilisation exactly, but definitely an external presence that gives you the impression that this is a keep of some kind, dug by hand rather than time or nature.
Two, immense pillars stand proudly at the far corners of the enormous chamber, large enough to prop up the roof of a veritable mountain.
Craning your neck back until it twinges, you squint through a haze of simmering air at the ceiling far above you, feeling a trickle of dread creep down into the pit of your stomach.
Bolted into the rock between the stalactites, there are numerous, gigantic chains hanging like eerie sentinel over your heads, so large and heavy that it doesn’t look as though anything short of gale-force winds could cause them to sway. You don’t dare to imagine what purpose they might serve.
Pale, unreachable light trickles lazily down from above, dappling little patches of the grey stone underneath Strife’s boots.
With your heart wedged in your throat, you swallow another curl of heat and let your gaze wander over to the side of the keep to where the ground falls away in a sheer drop several feet from the walls. It’s from the resulting pit that a vivid, orange glow rises, carrying with it the distinct sound of cracking, like glass windows slowly splintering apart, or a lake of ice breaking under a heavily placed boot. And below that sound, a deep, subterranean rumble serves as the background noise to this stifling place, constant and oozing.
Coupled with the acrid stench permeating your nostrils and the sweltering heat, you’re suddenly struck by the very disconcerting but plausible notion that you might have found yourself in the heart a volcano.
As if your day wasn’t horrendous enough.
All of a sudden, your ears are pricked by a low grunt from somewhere just a little too close to you, reminding you of your larger tormentor’s presence with a nauseating pang to the stomach. Consequentially, the unsightly welt on your forearm gives an insistent twinge.
Twisting your head to the left, you nearly jump out of your skin to find War has appeared out of thin air beside you, straightening to his full domineering height that easily clears his brother, and subsequently, you. The hooded behemoth only spares you a disinterested glance before his pale, blue eyes dart away again just as quickly and he stomps around to Strife’s front, out of view.
A breath you didn’t know you were keeping behind your teeth shakes itself loose.
You have to peel your tongue from the roof of your bone-dry mouth like a strip of velcro before you’re able to form a small, hesitant question in a voice baked hoarse and thin. “What is this place?”
No sooner has your meek question faded below the rumble of the cavern’s ambiance than an entirely new and harrowing sound punctures the otherwise quiet air.
Howling along the cavern walls comes a piercing, anguished scream, stemming from a place much deeper than you’ve already seen. It’s a raw sound, broken and terrified and primal, like a man with his humanity stripped and skewed just enough that he can’t quite be called human any longer. It prompts a sharp gasp out of you as the sound ricochets off the rocks, curdling your blood and raising the finer hairs on the back of your neck.
As if he’s entirely unconcerned with such a horrifying occurrence, Strife plants his free hand squarely on a hip and draws in a deep, obnoxious breath through his nose before he sighs it all out again, casting a casual glance around with all the air of a man surveying a pleasant sunrise.
“Ahh~ Screams of suffering, chains hanging from the ceiling, no sign of an exit…” he sighs wistfully, clapping the back of your thigh with his palm and announcing, “Yep! We’re definitely in a dungeon.”
He seems oblivious to your apprehension as you dart your eyes to every darkened corner of the cavern as if you might find the source of the tormented scream, curling your legs up under your dress until your knees bump against the Horseman’s chest. “A-a dungeon!?” you gulp, kneading your fingers between the gaps of Strife’s armoured spine, “A dungeon for what?”
Distracted for a fleeting moment by the foreign sensation of fingertips pressing against his leather under-armour, the Horseman almost forgets to respond.
It isn’t until he notices War’s expectant glare burning a hole into the side of his visor that he gives his head a shake and promptly shrugs his massive shoulders, swinging himself around to face away from his brother, and in doing do, bringing you almost nose to chest with the surly giant.
“Beats me,” he hums, utterly heedless of the fearsome stare-down currently happening just behind his head, “Probably for the poor bastard we just heard screaming... And a few others, to boot.”
Angling your head up, you have to gulp past a rather thick lump in your throat as you peer meekly up at War, who in turn, glares right back down at you, his eyes glinting ominously from within the shadow of his hood.
Reluctant to drop your gaze or even breathe for fear of provoking him by committing some unknowable slight, you shrink against Strife and duck your head, peeping up at him through your lashes as you tap your forefinger against one of the silver armour pieces interlocking across your captor’s back.
“Um,” you start, hearing Strife’s helm brush against your dress when he turns to listen, “C-can you, uh, put me down now…” Then, following a notable stretch of deafening silence, you squeakily tack on a hurried, “Please?”
There’s no guarantee that being on the ground will be any better for you than dangling over an uncomfortable, metal shoulder, but you’re at least willing to entertain the illusion that you’ll be safer on your feet without Strife dictating your every move. A modicum of control is better than none at all.
And truthfully, you’d just like to end the humiliation of being carried around like a sack of distraught potatoes.
Yet for some, inane reason, the armour-clad Horseman doesn’t seem as eager to relinquish you as you are to be relinquished.
“Aw, what’s the matter?” he drawls, bumping his shoulder up and down playfully, no doubt to pull a rise out of you which you frustratingly give him in the form of a gasp before he continues, “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”
Still glaring down at you, unimpressed, War gives an exasperated huff, blasting a jet of warm air onto the crown of your head.
“Put her down,” he states firmly, lifting his gaze from you at last, “You will need both hands free if we run into trouble.”
Knocking his head back over a shoulder to address you, Strife grins beneath his helm and murmurs, “Ha. You’d be amazed what I can pull off one-handed.”
Trying your best to ignore his boast, you roll your eyes and start to squirm, wriggling around under the weight of his arm. “Ugh,” you complain, “Will you please just put me down?”
“Mmm…” Humming obnoxiously, Strife sucks his teeth and replies, “Depends. You gonna try and run away again?”
That, at least, gives you something to consider. Are you going to try and run again? They certainly haven’t given you much of a reason not to.
The scar War gave you still burns when you bend your arm a certain way and the flesh pulls and stretches beyond the limits of the tissue.
More to the point, how do you really know any of what they’ve told you is true?
How do you know you’re not on Earth right now, somewhere remote, yes, but escapable. Because they told you you’re not?
You don’t know these giants from Adam.
You can’t trust anything they say. You don’t trust anything they say. And while you’ve undeniably found yourself smack-dab in the middle of some seriously unnatural goings on, that doesn’t mean you have to accept everything at face value.
Reality might be breaking apart around you, but you don’t have to join it, tempting though it may be to curl up into a ball and sob until the problem sorts itself out.
Desperate, your brain falls into a tailspin as it tries to rationalise such irrational circumstances.
Outwardly however, you’re aware he’s waiting for a response, so, sweeping your tongue nervously over your bottom lip, you finally croak out a hesitant, “No?”
The silence that follows is damn near chilling.
Twisting your neck up and back over your shoulder, you catch the shine in one of Strife’s luminous eyes peering at you, narrow and thin with obvious scepticism.
“Huh,” he says, clicking his tongue, “That didn’t sound very convincing. I’m not very convinced.” Casting a look over at his brother, he adds, “War, are you very convinced?”
Predictably, War’s only response is to glower down at the shorter Horseman and grumble impatiently at the back of his throat.
Nonplussed, Strife returns his attention to you. “I don’t think he’s very convinced.”
You have to press your lips into a firm, immoveable line and swallow back the vulgar words you’d just love to spew all over his shoulder…. Instead, you heave in a hot, arduous breath and slowly reiterate, “No. I won’t try to run away.” Then for added measure… “Again.”
You loathe that you can feel the scrutiny of not one, but two apocalyptic beings boring into the side of your head with suspicious, calculating glares.
Just as you’re beginning to consider whether pulling his hair will get him to drop you or kill you, Strife suddenly perks up, his sinister doubt disappearing as he raises his chin to pipe, “A’right. Good enough for me.”
Taken wildly aback, you let your mouth hang open whilst Strife simply raises his arms and lays two oversized hands on your hips, causing your jaw to snap shut before you can emit an embarrassing squeak of fright.
With far too much ease, the Horseman lifts you up and off his shoulder.
The moment you lose the stability of his armour under your stomach, you begin to tilt forwards. Choking on a gasp, you throw your hands up and brace them on each of his forearms.
“Don’t worry, I gotcha,” he chuckles brightly, to your immense dismay.
It’s a disconcerting sight. From the tips of your fingers to the heels of your palms, your hands don’t even wrap halfway around his armoured wrists.
Gawking down at your appendages, they seem so lost against the enormity of the arms that lower you gently to the ground.
As soon as the soles of your shoes touch a solid surface again, you waste no time in ripping your hands away from him and staggering backwards, trying but failing to extract yourself from his sturdy grasp.
Before you can get very far at all, fingers of solid steel bury themselves into your dress at the hip and you jerk to an immediate halt for fear of tearing the fabric by struggling. Arms held aloft to avoid touching his own again, you throw a wary look up at Strife’s visor, reluctantly meeting those sharp, alien eyes and finding they’ve narrowed to thin lines of gold, gleaming brightly against the shadows cast by his helm.
“You’re gonna have to get used to sticking close to one of us, kid,” he warns, his tone brooking no argument and devoid of any previous jocularity, “Cause as nasty as you think we are, I guarantee there’re things in here that are a thousand times worse.”
The well you typically draw your courage from ran dry long ago, long before you came here, long before you quietly agreed to marry Cain. So, you aren’t sure where you find the nerve to jut out your chin and bitterly remark, “Worse than trying to slice off my limbs?”
Sudden movement freezes you in your shoes as War emerges from behind his brother, moving to stand at his side and swallowing you up in the egregious shadow he casts across the ground.
Ignoring his approach, the gunslinger continues to hold you still.
“Yeah,” he replies simply, “A lot worse.”
Squeezing your lips into a tight, anxious pout, you swallow, unnerved by the way his gaze instantly dips to watch your throat bob around the undulating motion.
Gradually, you lower your head, losing the defiance of a jutting chin to instead tuck it timidly away against your chest, consumed by the sudden and unwarranted ideas that start to flash in your mind’s eye, showing you gruesome fates that could await you just around the corner.
If two gigantic maniacs wielding guns and a sword aren’t the worst you could face…
Just what the Hell have you walked into?
Regarding you closely for a few more moments, Strife eventually gives his head a satisfied bob, deeming that you’ve read him loud and clear.
Gingerly, he starts to peel his fingers from your dress, wincing when the gaps in his gauntlets pinch the delicate fabric as he returns his hands to his sides. Regardless, all of his muscles remain bunched, ready to spring into action at the first sign that you might go back on your word and attempt to flee after all.
He’s almost more caught off guard when you don’t move.
Instead, you murmur a soft, “Thank you,” which just about smacks the jaw clean off his face. Staring down at you, his lips parted by a fraction, he watches you fiddle with a jewelled band of gold sitting at the base of one of your fingers for several seconds before he remembers to blink.
Indifferent, and admittedly ignorant of his sudden bout of silence, you try to distract yourself by absently brushing the palms of your hands over your dress, tutting softly at the creases and rumples in the tulle.
It’s all you can think to do now that you’ve got a little freedom back.
Nearby, War shifts his immense weight to stand even closer to Strife’s flank, and together, the brothers share a sidelong glance before returning their attention to the fussy, little human in front of them.
Even with the helm obscuring most of Strife’s angular features, War only needs to take one glance at his profile to catch the distinct and unmistakable gleam of fascination bleeding through the cracks in his armour.
Typical Strife, he scoffs to himself. The minute something new and shiny comes along, it’s all he seems to be able to think about. And there are very few things newer and shinier than a lost human dressed from head to toe in sparkling, white garb.
Hauling his eyes up towards the cavernous ceiling, War lets out an exasperated sigh and brusquely elbows Strife aside, sweeping him backwards with the palm of his prosthetic gauntlet, much to his brother’s belligerence.
“Hey!” he barks, though he goes entirely ignored.
Stepping sideways into the spot Strife had once occupied, War places his back to the smaller Nephilim and clears his throat, curious at the way you quickly stiffen like a prey animal and gradually lift your head.
He stands so close that you have to tip it all the way back before you’re even able to meet his eye, reminding him of how much smaller humans are. Smaller, and weaker…
The colossal Horseman almost can’t quite believe that for a member of a species so vulnerable, you don’t seem to possess any weapons. Natural or otherwise.
His eyes drift down to the long, pink line he’d marked you with. You hadn’t tried to claw or bite or do much of anything to stop him, not that it would have made an iota of difference. You were helpless… And he…
A pair of snowy white brows twitch microscopically inwards.
“Do you know how to fight?” he utters at last, lifting his gaze to meet your otherworldly stare. He doesn’t miss how you seem to be fixated on something behind his crimson hood, and if he has to hazard a guess, you’re staring directly at Chaoseater’s hilt.
Pulling a face, you look back at him and croak, “I… I-I’m sorry?”
Briefly wondering why in the nine Hells you’re apologising, he presses, “Have you any weapons training?” When all he receives it a blank stare, he casts his mind about for something primitive you’ll have heard of and adds, “Swords? Axes…? Bows?”
“Guns?” Strife eagerly pipes up from somewhere behind him.
Heaving an irritated sigh, War half turns his head over a shoulder and snaps, “She is a human. She doesn’t know what guns are.”
“I… What?” you peep, wrenched from your stupor by the absurdity of his declaration, “Uh… Yes, I do.”
Bemused, War raises his brow at you and retorts, “No, you do not.”
For a moment, you’re so dumbstruck by his apparent ignorance that you forget how much larger and more dangerous he is, enough that you pluck up the gall to scoff at him and insist, “Uh. I’m pretty sure I do? Humans have been using guns for centuries.”
Raising your hands, you start to knock a list off your fingers, unaware of the behemoth’s eyes growing wide.
“Shotguns, rifles, pistols-“ you state, pausing to throw a hand out and gesture at the guns in Strife’s leather holsters. “Revolvers-!”
You’re unprepared for War to suddenly move forwards, instantly cutting off your rambling list and sending your glimmer of nerve scurrying back down your throat as he leans towards you, filling your field of view with his indomitable, ferocious scowl.
On a reflex, you tilt backwards with a hand on your chest, blinking owlishly up into the depths of his hood.
“How could you possibly know about firearms?” he demands, the sigil on his forehead burning with fiery heat as his temper flares.
Shaking your head rapidly, you stammer out, “I.. I don’t, I’m not-“
“-Hey,” Strife tries to interject, “C’mon, War. You’re scarin’ her.”
Disregarding his brother, the Horseman raises his voice and growls, “Who has been supplying you?! Speak!”
Your hands wring together as you try to form an answer, struggling in the face of someone who has proven they have no qualms about hurting you. But all you can produce is another pitiable whimper. “Nobody! We just-“
Before you can utter another sound, a large, silver hand suddenly appears over War’s shoulder, grabbing the metal pauldron that’s been forged in the likeness of a snarling face and tugging him away from you.
“War!” Strife barks, trying to wrench his brother around to face him, “I said back off.”
Savagely tearing his arm out of his grasp, War rounds on him, nostrils flaring like a raging bull. Flinging his arm out towards you indicatively, he bellows, “If humans are being supplied with weapons-!”
“-Then why’re you takin’ it out on her, and not the asshole trying to arm her species?”
War’s teeth click shut, his shoulders heaving with every breath he pulls into his train carriage chest.
Letting out a sigh, Strife sends a sideways glance at you, lowering his voice to add, “Come on. Look at who you’re trying to intimidate.”
Begrudgingly, War follows his brother’s line of sight.
You’re well aware you aren’t exactly giving humanity a good name right now, shivering like a wet leaf and holding your injured arm guardedly against your chest, all the while stifling a sob and eyeing War as if he’ll draw his sword and run you through at any moment.
For several, terrible seconds, the Horseman’s sneer remains locked in place, rigid and threatening, but as he watches you cower away from him, something in War’s almighty resolve shudders…
And yields.
Slowly, at a pace that would make a glacier yawn, his hard snarl recedes.
“See,” Strife points out, “You just look like a dick.”
The furious expression is back on War’s face in the blink of an eye, but at least this time, he aims it at his brother, opening his mouth to suck down a sharp breath, ready to berate him…
Rocks skitter across the ground somewhere too close for comfort, snatching the attention of your unlikely troop.
As one unit, Strife and War spin towards the far end of the chamber where the noise had come from, reaching for their weapons and placing their broad, armoured backs to you.
It would be the perfect opportunity to make a break for it, if you weren’t frozen solid by the prospect of running into whatever made these juggernauts so jumpy.
The former Horseman draws both of his guns from their holsters so quickly, your eyes can barely keep track of the movement. War, in the meantime, takes a gigantic step backwards as he swings his accursed sword over his shoulder, crowding you into a clumsy retreat to avoid having your toes stepped on.
Frantic, you try to peer through the gap between the titans, scanning the chamber walls for any sign of life.
“What the hell was that?” you can’t help but whisper-shout, hardly daring to breathe.
Neither of them replies for a time, not even Strife, who has his revolvers aimed out at the room, his arms still as statues as if he isn’t even vaguely affected by the weight of his guns.
Seconds tick by at an agonising pace, and the three of you wait, and wait, straining your ears to try and pick up another sound. But aside from the crackle of lava cooling as it hits the air, everything remains perfectly still and silent once more.
After another minute, War grunts, lowering his sword and casting a dark look up at the ceiling. “We’ve lingered here for too long,” he remarks, half turning to peer down at you again, his eyes skimming over you from head to toe.
“So,” he starts, “You’ve handled guns?”
Shaking your head, you hold your hands out helplessly and say, “No, I mean, I know about them, but I-I’ve never actually shot one.”
“I could teach you,” Strife pipes up, thrusting the revolvers back into their holsters with casual ease.
“Now is hardly the time, brother,” War snaps, still eyeing you pensively.
Something very strange has been hovering about you like a miasma ever since you crashed into his brother in the Void. Something unplaceable that he can’t quite put his finger on. You are human, that much is confirmed, but you’re not like any human he’s ever heard of. It’s a troubling notion, that some unseen force might be trying to arm your species. If that’s the case, they’ll need to figure out who. Then why.
But in the meantime, he and Strife have a job to do, here and now.
First thing’s first…
“… Never handled a weapon,” he murmurs aloud.
It makes sense, he concedes. Humans aren’t a war-faring species, so it’s little wonder that you don’t know how to use weapons… For War, however, a Nephilim who has been holding a blade since the day he was risen from dust, the concept seems so alien, not to mention disconcerting.
Inclining his head, he gives you another once-over before turning away, stating matter-of-factly, “You will be a liability.”
It’s such a blasé statement, accusing, as if you’re culpable of something you’ve had no control over thus far. It actually makes you recoil as you draw your head back to fix him with an incredulous frown, lips parted, and your brows furrowed heavily above your eyes.
Despite every fibre of your being telling you that there’s a terrible idea forming at the back of your mind, you take a step away, lean your weight on your heel, and start to size him up.
Now, you’ve picked some battles before, tried to stand up to people you had no business standing up to. Cain and Delilah nipped that streak in the bud back when you thought asserting your opinion on matters of marriage should make a difference. Those battles were wildly different from this one, and you lost, every time, worn down and beaten back from the woman you used to be by wills stronger and more tempered than yours. You used to think you could face the world bravely, and all it took were a few people to show you that you weren’t as strong as you liked to think you were. It humbled you, and over time, you learned an easier life was synonymous with a passive life.
But you’ve been passive a lot lately.
Maybe you’ve been running on cold feet for too long. Maybe this whole, nightmarish interruption to your routine is finally catching up to you and numbing you to sense and logic, but truth be told?
You really don’t like hearing that this is somehow your fault.
Balling your hands into fists, you swallow thickly, and steady yourself with a noisy breath, wondering if this will be the moment you get to learn if there’s a Heaven as well as a Hell.
“Hey! I didn’t ask you to bring me with you, okay?” you say in a wobbly voice, staring at a spot just past his left arm to avoid his glare lest your words fail you completely, “Maybe, if I’m such a liability, you should just leave me to find my own way home!”
His head snaps properly in your direction with such velocity, you let out a gasp, flinching backwards and shrinking in on yourself again, your eyes darting to his lips that curl just the slightest in one corner, and the little bit of gall sitting on your tongue shrivels up and dies at the back of your throat.
Oh well. It was nice to have your guts back while it lasted. Just a pity they’re probably about to get ripped out of you for raising your voice.
For a number of unpleasant seconds, War merely regards you like you’ve just completely thrown him for a loop, neither raising his sword nor his fist to send you spinning off your mortal coil into the aether.
Finally, just as you’re beginning to fidget under his inspection, he quirks his brow at you and slowly states, “If you leave… you will die.”
You were expecting him to lose his temper again, to shout you down or put you down, not remark on your chances of survival.
“Oh, as if you give a shit about that,” you huff guardedly, curling a palm over your marred forearm and eyeing the Horseman like he’ll tear you in half for daring to call attention to the injury he caused.
War’s stance and expression don’t change in the slightest. He only continues to observe you coolly from inside his hood, ignoring the frequent looks Strife keeps flicking between the pair of you.
After a further spell of silence in which you seem to grow impossibly smaller, he at last gives an appraising hum and straightens his shoulders, jerking his head towards his brother and declaring, “You will stay close to Strife.”
Wait… You will?
“I will?” you say aloud, sending the other Horseman a distrustful glance. Strife, for his part, looks conversely pleased with the verdict, his head tipping coltishly to one side as he gives you a little wave.
… Well, you suppose if you have to choose between the two, the less time you spend near War the better. You assume he feels the same about having to be close to you, at least until he adds, “If we run into trouble, his guns allow him range. He will not let anything to get close to you.”
“They’re welcome to try,” his brother says cheerfully, thumbing the stock of a revolver.
Wilting like a helpless flower plucked from its patch of earth, you weakly ask, “Do I have a choice?”
Giving a hearty chuckle, Strife takes an exaggerated step closer to your side and pivots on his heel to face the same direction, cheerfully replying, “Ah, c’mon. Don’t be like that. I thought you humans were social. Safety in numbers, and all that?”
Disconcerted by his proximity, you lean away from him, cupping your elbows. “That’s not true for all of us,” you mumble.
You hear his intake of breath and prepare yourself for yet more inane chatter, but at that moment, you jump as another howl – distant but hair-raising – comes drifting into the chamber from some unknown offshoot deeper in the keep’s depths.
“Fucking hell,” you quake, your voice shaking like glass on the verge of shattering.
At your side, Strife mutters, “My sentiments exactly.”
Raising his head to catch War’s eye, he swings his chin towards the only visible exit; the apex of a wide, stone staircase that winds down away from the chamber, disappearing into a tunnel below. “You wanna take point?”
War’s response is a rich, throaty hum, accompanied by a decisive nod. “Indeed, we have wasted more than enough time here. Let us find Vulgrim’s troubling demon and pry the artifact from its cold, dead hands.”
“Ohho-okay!” Strife grins, suddenly gleeful as he claps his hands together, “Now you’re getting me excited.”
Rolling his eyes, War turns away and makes for the stairs, swinging his arm up to clip Chaoseater into its usual place on his back. Blankly watching him leave, you give a start when something metal and solid nudges at the small of your back, prodding you to stumble forwards awkwardly until Strife’s knuckles drop and he falls into step beside you, one stride for every two and a half of yours.
“I love it when he gets like this,” he remarks.
Begrudgingly, you resign yourself to trail after his brother and ask, “What? Murderous?”
“Oh yeah. Even he can be fun.” Tilting his head to the side in thought, he adds, “On occasion.”
Sweat has been steadily gathering on your forehead, and as you finally begin to move, a tiny droplet breaks free of your brow and trickles slowly down the side of your face. Of all the days to get swept up in a Universe-spanning caper, it would be the day you elected to wear one of the most awkward and cumbersome dresses known to man.
“So far none of this has been fun,” you huff, reaching up to flick the sweat drop away with a finger.
Strife’s boots hit the top step and he twists his helm sideways to shoot you a mock-offended smirk, “Not even me?”
You don’t bother to respond to that, instead throwing nervous glances around the room as you lift the front of your skirts and start to descend the staircase, your heels clacking noisily against the hard stone underfoot and echoing off the high walls. Somewhere nearby, you can hear liquid lava squeaking and splintering as it hits the marginally cooler air, though the heat only seems to grow more stifling the further you venture.
Absently, you wonder if you remembered to put your setting spray in the bag.
The staircase spirals down into the depths of a tunnel, twisting out of view and giving you no concept of what might lay ahead. To your left, you note the presence of tall, metal spikes jutting from a pit that runs alongside the stairs, like a wrought-iron fence whose purpose has been retrofitted into an inefficient and hostile railing. From the corner of an eye, you spot something round and ivory impaled halfway down one of those spikes. A single glimpse is all you need before you immediately avert your gaze to the stairs ahead, heart thumping in your chest. Behind you, a pair of dark, unseeing eye sockets seem to sear into your back as you continue your descent.
As you move lower, more signs start to appear that you aren’t the only visitors to this keep. Sconces line the wall, roaring with open flames that cast the path ahead in an orange glow. Two, iron firepits stand on either side of the staircase at its base, and it’s here that War has paused. It strikes you that in spite of his size, he’s slightly more camouflaged in this place than he was in the void, his scarlet cloak and dark grey armour blending well with the rock and heat around him.
As you and Strife come to a stop behind War, you lean sideways and find yourself peering tentatively into the space beyond his bulk.
The tunnel has opened up into another spacious chamber, and the path beyond the stairs has opened up too, into a vast, circular area with no walls or boundaries, nothing but another deep pit that sweeps around it, carrying a river of flowing, basaltic lava to somewhere further into the - as Strife had called it -‘dungeon.’
Maybe you really are in some kind of volcano. The urge to find a way out of here increases dramatically, but with Strife watching your back a little too closely and War cutting off an escape from the front, your options, at the moment, are quite limited.
At last, War takes a step out onto the level ground, then another and another, stalking forwards with his head on a constant swivel, vigilant. Strife, in the meantime, walks out with a confident swagger, ensuring to walk slightly behind you to keep you moving up in front.
Tearing your eyes off the pit, you focus instead on the behemoth stomping ahead of you. He’s already on the other side by the time you and Strife make it halfway across. For a split second, you almost let yourself feel a pinch of guilt for wearing such inappropriate shoes and slowing the Horsemen down, but you’re just as quick to take the feeling and grind it up under said heels, curling your lip distastefully. You weren’t exactly given a chance to pack for this ‘excursion.’
“Y’know,” Strife says abruptly, breaking you from your thoughts, and just in time too. You glance down and see the lip of the platform’s edge rise up to meet you. It likely would have tripped you if you’d remained lost in your head. “I’ve been thinking…”
“Death will be pleased to hear it,” War remarks from up ahead.
The back of his hood receives a simmering glare, but Strife is quick to brush the dig aside and continue, “If Lucifer is as dangerous as the Council says he is, why’d they send just the two of us?”
If the uneven ground didn’t manage to trip you up, his comment definitely does. Stumbling on the heel of your foot, you hurriedly try to right yourself, swatting irritably at Strife’s hand that reaches out to steady you. There’s that name again. Lucifer. Would it be naïve of you to hope that their ‘mission’ doesn’t somehow involve the Biblical Devil? You’ve managed to survive for the better part of an hour, but you don’t like how the odds are quickly stacking up against you with every step you take.
“Death and Fury attend to other matters,” War responds simply, “It is not our place to question the will of the Council.”
Apparently unable to let his brother’s earlier tease slide after all, Strife rolls his eyes and quips, “It’s not my place to question your wardrobe, but I still think your armour could use some more creepy faces on it.”
You’re not sure how much you like trailing in between the sizeable men, especially when the more sizeable of the two slows his gait to aim a vicious snarl over his shoulder. “Must everything be a joke to you?” War snaps, “The Council-!”
“-Ugh!” Cutting his brother off with a pompous groan, Strife throws his helm back. “You really need to lighten up.” Then, lowering his voice to a deeper pitch, apparently for the sole purpose of mocking the far scarier Horseman, he taunts, “The Council this, and The Council that! You wanna hear an actual joke?”
Facing forwards again, War responds with a firm, flat, “No.”
Strife, of course, doesn’t seem to have the same reservations as you do about antagonising someone with the name ‘War.’
In fact, you carry yourself so rigidly in fear of being caught in the middle of a scrap that you almost have the wind knocked out of you quite literally when Strife chimes in with a phrase so familiar to you, you just about choke on your own spit.
“Knock knock…”
The classic setup, so universally understood that you almost wonder if humans are born with an inbuilt recognition system designed to identify two simple, unassuming words.
The three of you pass beneath an open portcullis, but you barely notice the jagged bars of iron looming above you because you’re so busy trying to pick your jaw up off the ground.
You can’t see Strife’s face, and you don’t dare turn around to gape at him in case you end up taking a painful tumble. Instead, numbly, you continue to stare ahead with unblinking eyes, vaguely taking in the narrow path ahead of you, and the apparent end of it fast approaching.
War makes a dismissive sound, an irked mutter of something too low for you to make out.
Clearing his throat when he doesn’t receive a response, Strife prompts, “You’re supposed to say, ‘who’s there?”
You can’t quite believe you’re hearing this. Perhaps the idea that you’ve been drugged isn’t so unlikely after all because this isn’t something you could ever come up with sober.
Ahead of you, the stone pathway falls away in an abrupt drop, and the ceiling of the tunnel disappears, both opening out into yet another cavern, this one more spacious than the first two.
Or, you continue to muse to yourself, maybe you really did die in that church graveyard, and the chemicals released in your brain have conjured a hallucination of this pair of giants to serve as some unconvincing reapers who will guide you into the afterlife.
War comes to a stop at the edge of the escarpment, and unseen by you or Strife, his expression scrunches up in confusion and he asks, “Why would I give away my location? I would simply smash through the door and face my assailant.”
Oh. Wow. That’s…
“Ugh, you’re hopeless,” Strife complains as he draws to a halt just behind you and his brother on the rocky ledge. For a second, he’s distracted with casting his keen eye over the chamber, so he doesn’t notice you lower your face to the floor, your lips pursed like you’re trying to keep a cough in.
He does, however, notice straight away when, instead of escaping through your mouth, the sound you’re desperately trying to hold in finds its escape through your nose instead, and out jumps a sharp, unbecoming ‘snort!’
It’s unexpected. So much so that you’re just as surprised to hear it as the Horsemen. At once, you slap a palm over the lower half of your face in horror, a cold rush of dread trickling down into your stomach.
Eyes blown wide open, you stare at the ground, only too aware of the heavy silence that settles over you like a blanket, thicker than the heat pressing in all around you. You’re not even willing to raise your head because you can feel two sets of eyes watching you from above.
For too long, all you can hear is the ringing in your ears and your own pulse throbbing just beneath the skin of your temples. The silence swells, tuning up like an orchestra, deafening you to every sound save for that accursed, high-pitched ringing caused by the crushing grit of your teeth.
“Did…?” Strife’s voice cuts through the atmosphere like a headsman’s axe, “Did you just… laugh?”
Your jaw eases apart, and the ringing fades.
The telltale ‘clunk’ of War’s boots alert you to him turning from the ledge, pointing himself in your direction instead.
Suddenly and appropriately alarmed that you just snorted at someone nearly three times your size, you instantly shift from freeze to flight and throw your head up, only to find yourself blinking apprehensively into War’s face, etched with his signature frown.
“I-I wasn’t laughing at you,” you rush out, backing away from the scowling Horseman a little too far and ending up colliding right into Strife’s torso.
With a tiny yelp, you leap forwards again, tossing glances back and forth between them whilst they continue to stare you down. “It’s just-! I haven’t heard a knock-knock joke in so long, it… It just surprised me.”
A pause ensues, and then quietly – eagerly – Strife asks, “You know what knock-knock jokes are?”
Wondering why that’s his first question, you offer him a timid nod. And then you’re immediately flinching away from him when he barks out an abrupt, disbelieving laugh and straightens up, his chest swelling proudly.
“No kidding. Y’know, not to brag,” he brags, jabbing a thumb into his sternum, “But I practically invented knock-knock jokes.”
Well, who are you to argue with the man carrying two guns? “O-oh?”
“Brother,” War complains, “We do not have time for your-“
“-Here! Here, try this one,” Strife rushes out, leaning towards you a little too fast for your liking, “Knock knock.”
You start to get the impression he’s been waiting for an opportunity like this to come along for quite some time. Sparing his brother a nervous glance, you wet your lips and tentatively indulge him, “Uh, okay, who’s there?”
Taking a breath as if he means to brace himself, Strife says, “The interrupting War.”
Oh… Oh, for God’s sake...
You try to steady the muscles in your cheeks, sending another wary look over at the juggernaut clenching his fists by the ledge.
Still, with Strife waiting for an answer, you slowly and dutifully sigh, “The interrupting War wh-“
You knew it was coming. You knew the gist of the punchline if not the punchline itself, but you’re still wholly unprepared when Strife cuts you off by crossing his arms over his chest and letting out a loud, resounding growl.
“Grr! The Council~!”
Squeezing your eyes shut, you immediately purse your lips, your cheeks aching with the effort of keeping a straight face. You wonder if this is the start of another emotional breakdown because the joke isn’t even particularly funny, but there’s just a familiarity to the formula that almost comes as a welcome relief, like Earth isn’t so far away after all.
A brother teasing his sibling… There’s something almost human about it, abating just the tiniest modicum of terror bubbling away inside your stomach.
Clearing your throat, you keep your lips puckered and inhale deeply through your nostrils in an attempt to compose yourself. Perhaps its Strife’s enthusiasm that lends itself to the humour of the situation, or perhaps it’s simply the absurdity of such a large and formidable brute doing something as innocuous as telling you a knock-knock joke at the expense of his brother, but whatever the case may be, when you open your mouth to tell him it wasn’t that funny, your lips spring up at their corners, contradicting you immediately.
“Think it needs some work,” you say, your voice wobbling.
“Needs work?” he parrots, his own mouth quirking into a grin as he clocks your expression, “Then why are you smiling?”
It takes no small amount of effort to wrestle your face back under control. “I’m not smiling,” you insist, “That isn’t how humans smile.”
Strife, naturally, isn’t fooled at all.
“Ah ha! It is! She’s smiling!” he gloats, jabbing his thumbs at his own mask, “I’m funny! And you-!” Swivelling his head up to War, he pokes a finger at his brother’s face and declares, “You were wrong.”
You make the mistake of glimpsing underneath the stoic Horseman’s hood, wincing when you find him sporting an expression of absolute thunder. He glowers down at you as if to say, ‘Now look at what you’ve started.’
Outwardly, he flattens his brows and exhales slowly through his nose, “Yes, you must be very proud that you’ve found the one, sole creature in the Universe who finds you almost as funny as you find yourself.”
Flapping a hand dismissively at his brother’s words, Strife blows a snort through his lips and tuts, “Ah, you’re just jealous she likes me better.”
You decide not to chime in with the fact that you don’t, in fact, particularly like either of them.
Besides, if War is at all concerned with his new ranking, he certainly doesn’t bother to let you know.
“If you are quite finished cheapening our reputation…” he growls, whirling away from Strife and stepping up to the very edge of the platform.
“Oh, I haven’t even gotten started.”
Before you can protest, the masked Horseman lays a hand on your back and nudges you forwards until you’re standing next to his brother, then takes up his own lookout on the escarpment to your left.
Snugly sandwiched between them, you squash your arms into your sides, grimacing at the sharp angles of their armour that threaten to snag your dress as you try to shuffle backwards, but you don’t manage to retreat further than a few inches before you happen to cast a cursory look out at the view ahead and promptly freeze in your tracks.
Eyes bulging, your jaw falls open and you let out a soft, incredulous breath, your brain racing to take stock of what it’s seeing.
“Oh god.”
The path ends abruptly, falling away just a few paces from the toes of your shoes. And waiting beyond the precipice is a rock-walled cavern of absolutely phenomenal scale, far larger than those you’ve already come through. At its centre, rising from a chasm down below, there’s a rocky platform large enough to fit your house within its dimensions several times over. From what you can see, there isn’t any conceivable way to cross over to it, save for sprouting wings and flying. You’re not even confident you could pitch a tennis ball across the gap and have it land on the other side.
Scalding heat prickles your brow, and when you glance down to see where it stems from, you give an audible gasp as you look past the toes of your shoes and over the pathway’s crumbling edge.
Far, far below you, a stomach-churning drop lays in wait.
Thirty… forty-something feet of shimmering air is all that stands between you and a vast lake of red-hot lava.
“Hey, look down there,” Strife’s voice twitches your ear.
At your side, he raises an arm to point at the platform and says, “See that grate?”
With no small effort, you wrench your eyes off the pit of death and lift it to the level of raised stone, blinking your eyes hard to moisten them again after staring at the lava.
At once, you spot what he’s indicating.
Right at the centre of the platform, set into the stone floor itself, is a large, circular grate, vaguely reminiscent of the bars of a prison cell.
From the darkness below it, you can just make out a faint, pink glow seeping through the metal gridiron.
War answers his brother with a hum that vibrates in your chest.
“What’d you think?” Strife prods, “Reckon that’s where they’ve stashed Vulgrim’s artefact?”
Studying it for a few seconds, War eventually nods. “Something is definitely down there…” he murmurs, “No doubt that grate is heavily fortified.”
Shooting him a sly look, the smaller Horseman adds, “Shouldn’t be too much of a problem for you to pick the lock though, right?”
It’s disconcerting to see War with any expression other than a scowl, so to witness him return a smirk over the top of your head sends a veritable shiver right up your spine.
Lifting his arms, he slams his fist into the palm of his gauntlet with a resounding ‘thwack.’
Amused, Strife turns to thrust his chin at the gut-wrenching gap between the path you’re standing on and the edge of the central platform.
“What about that? Think you can make that jump?”
“J-jump!?” you blurt out, whipping your head up to stare at him like he’s lost his mind.
Hell, maybe he has.
Briefly, War’s eyes flit down to you before he returns his gaze to his fellow Horseman, scoffing, “Is that a serious question?”
And without another word, he begins taking several steps backwards, away from the ledge.
“Wait,” you sputter, shooting him an incredulous look as he continues to back up along the path, “You’re not really going to-“
You don’t even get to finish your sentence.
Before you can blink, War pushes off on his back foot and lurches forwards, his boots pounding against the stone hard enough to send powerful quakes all along the path as he charges straight for the edge.
You think you let out an alarmed yelp, but there’s not much else you can do except helplessly gawk as the Horseman, laden down by his heavy, clanking armour, plants his boot centimetres from the crumbling edge of the path and unceremoniously launches himself, his sword, and all of his bulk off solid ground, soaring out over the lava-drowned chasm below.
With a comically loud gasp, you slap your palms over your eyes, yet you can’t resist peeking through splayed fingers to watch.
Why the Hell would he do that!? There’s no way he’ll make it, you tell yourself, not with all that weight dragging him down.
You wanted to get away from him, yes but… shit. You didn’t want him to get himself killed doing it!
It’s as if you’re staring at a runaway train, waiting in morbid fascination for it to derail. Something in the nature of a disaster unfolding keeps you rooted to the spot, unable to tear your attention away from it.
There’s power and grace in the way War sails over the gap, an impossible feat, further than any Olympic gold medallist would ever hope to achieve. And then, to your utmost astonishment, he makes it.
Metal boots hit the stone platform with an almighty ‘clang’ on the other side, and he dips his knees as he lands to absorb the impact.
You’re almost certain you can see the whole structure quiver from the force.
For several moments, you merely stand there with your mouth hanging ajar whilst War rises to his full height again and turns around, tipping his face up to see you staring back at him, your eyes wide with unconcealed awe.
“How. The fuck…?” you say emphatically, blowing out a disbelieving little whistle. You might not trust the man, but even you can appreciate a good stunt when you see one. Giving your head a shake, you briefly forget you’re supposed to be their kidnappee and gush, “That was incredible!”
Your voice carries easily across the sizeable gap and reaches the Horseman’s ears, erasing the hard line between his brows. Taken aback, War blinks, pressing his lips together bashfully in lieu of a response. ‘Perhaps it was rather impressive,’ he privately concedes, ‘from a human’s perspective…’
Back on the escarpment, Strife’s keen gaze makes out the befuddled expression warping his brother’s typically impassive face, and he sends several glances between you and War, pursing his lips at the glimmer lighting up your eyes.
“Oh yeah?” he huffs, “You think that was impressive?”
A loud clap rings out across the cavern, causing you to jump as Strife smacks his palms together. “Okay, little miss,” he announces behind you, “Your turn.”
Just like that, the colour promptly drains from your face. “My what?”
You don’t have time to spin around and face him, for not a second later, a powerful arm scoops your legs out from underneath you whilst the other snakes around the back of your shoulders, hauling you clean off the floor and pressing you to a hard, armoured chest.
“Oh for-! Stop grabbing me!” you complain, planting your hands on his clavicle and shoving yourself away as best you can, “Are you insane!? I am not jumping over that!”
Cocking his helm at you, he spares you an innocent blink. “You’re not?”
You don’t like how much levity is lacing his tone.
“NO!” you squawk, aghast, “Absolutely not! Let me go!”
One of the Horseman’s eyes narrows to squint at you before he angles his helm very pointedly towards the platform. “You sure?”
Something about his question gives you pause.
Hesitating, you snap your head in the same direction and follow his line of sight. It doesn’t take you more than a second to glean the bastard’s intent.
Now you really don’t like the way he’s looking at you, his upturned eyelids the clearest indication that he’s smiling quite broadly underneath his visor.
Your stomach gives an unpleasant lurch.
“Oh, if you dare…” you hiss.
Daringly, he raises his sizeable shoulders in a shrug and chirps, “Lesson one; Don’t ever dare a Horseman, kid. You’re always bound to lose.”
He wouldn’t…
Flashing you a golden wink, Strife turns his body sideways and swings you to the right, like a rugby player readying a forward pass.
It finally occurs to you that, oh, good god, he would.
“Wait-! WA-WAIT! STRIFE!” Issuing a high-pitched, wordless scream, you start to flail, but his ironclad grip on your legs and shoulders keeps you from launching yourself out of his arms.
Somewhere across the chasm, War’s voice drifts up to you, though you hardly hear it above your undignified shrieks. “Brother?”
The muscles around you bunch up, solidifying as hard as the stone underfoot.
“See you on the other side!” is all the cheery warning you get.
“Don’t you DA---AAAAARRRGGHHH!”
He’s moving before you can think to adhere yourself to his arm.
Sidestepping into a purposeful bound, the Horseman flings his arms to the left, with you in tow, and when they get to the zenith of his reach, they disappear out from under you, letting you go hurtling spine first out over the chasm like a screaming, thrashing blimp, dress and all.
You have several phobias that you were aware of before you fell into this godforsaken place. Phobias that, for the most part, have been quite avoidable in your day-to-day life.
Finding yourself suspended in the air over a pit without a safety net underneath you… add some lava to break your fall, and you suddenly realise as you’re flying through empty space that you’ve just discovered an entirely new phobia to add to the list.
Sailing in a none-too graceful arch, you stare in disbelief back at the silver Horseman on the ledge, your dress billows out behind you and the scorching air whips your veil over your face, tugging at your hair where the grips are heroically keeping it situated. Likewise, some subconscious part of you instructs your toes to grip like vices on the insoles of your heels, valiantly trying to stop them from plummeting off your feet.
Inevitably, as is the case with the laws of physics, you reach the height of your curve, and that’s when gravity seizes you by the heart and starts to drag you back down, sending your stomach crashing up into your diaphragm.
Time seems to slow as you descend, reaching back for Strife as if he could somehow stretch across the gap and catch you. You can’t see behind yourself, and it’s all you can do to hope that you pass out on the way down, so you don’t have to feel your body melt into a puddle in the hungry maw of the lava below.
It hurts your chest something fierce to think that the last anyone will see of you is your terror-stricken face and your raised hand closing into a fist, bar one choicely extended finger.
The hot wind screams past your ears and you screw your eyes shut tight, squeezing out the last tears you’re ever going to cry. Your father’s face flashes in your mind’s eye, and you wonder what you did to set off this chain of events.
Strife said he wouldn’t hurt you…
What a joke.
‘WHAM!’
Your mouth jerks open, wheezing out a gasp as something suddenly slams into you from behind, knocking the air violently from your lungs. Or rather, you crash into something with the force of a white, ruffled meteorite and nearly lose your heart through your open mouth.
At first, you assume you must have smacked into the hard side of the platform, but then the Something you’ve collided with grunts, and you hurriedly wrench your eyes open, coming to focus on a monstrous, metal gauntlet that’s secured itself under your knees, crushing your dress between prodigious fingers whilst something equally large presses across your shoulder blades.
With a kick in the guts, you realise you’re being held aloft in much the same way Strife had been holding you mere moments ago.
He caught you… War caught you.
Finally, you remember to gulp in a noisy breath to refill your desperate lungs.
You’re not dead.
But you are, in fact, shaking.
And as the revelation that you’re still alive sets in, your limbs start to wobble in earnest.
“STRIFE!” You visibly flinch when War’s terrible, wonderful, abrasive, beautiful voice booms like a claxon right above your head. “You fool!”
Even through layers of solid metal and leather padding, the Horseman can feel you trembling under his palms. Propping your neck in the crook of his elbow, he lifts his head to level a snarl up at where Strife still stands on the escarpment whilst you unclench your fists from your lap, heaving air in and out of your lungs in hysterical little bursts.
“What were you thinking!?” he bellows.
Leaning over the side to look down at you and your unwitting saviour, Strife throws his arms out wide and argues, “She said to let her go!”
“You knew what she meant!” A deep thrum rolls around in his chest, spreading up his throat and spilling out in another growl so deep it rattles the teeth in your skull. “You could have damaged her!”
“Oh relax, I wouldn’t have tossed her if I didn’t think you’d catch her.”
War slides his lips back to reveal his inhumanly sharp canines, but at that moment, something tugs very lightly at the fabric of his cowl.
Faltering, he angles his chin down and nearly gives a start.
Tiny hands have wandered towards him, found the scarlet material hanging from around his neck and latched onto it with possessive intent, fingers twisting themselves into his cowl and getting lost amongst the folds, as if you fully expect him to toss you over the side as well. The strange, white veneer lays draped across your face, so he can’t see your expression when you unexpectedly twist about in his arms and pull yourself a little closer to his chest.
Caught off guard, War remains stock-still, seriously contemplating whether or not he should drop you right then and there to spare himself from Strife’s potential teasing.
His bulging arms give a twitch, which in turn causes you to cringe, letting out a quiet bleat and further entangling your fingers around his cowl.
This, War decides, was not in the job description when the Charred Council made him a Horseman. Still, whatever he might think of you, he can’t bring himself to drop you in a heap on the ground.
For once, he might be out of his depth.
As soon as the notion occurs to him, he brusquely flicks it away with a toss of his head.
Taking a large step back, he slowly ambles himself about until he’s facing away from Strife and the platform’s edge, then stomps several paces towards the central grate, only stopping once he hears the loud clang of metallic boots hitting the stone behind him as his fellow Horseman leaps to the lower level.
Gingerly, almost as though he expects you to shatter if he moves too quickly, War bends down until he’s almost on a knee and starts to withdraw the arm that’s wrapped around your legs, a stoic frown tugging his brows towards the centre of his forehead when you refuse to let go of his hood.
Grumbling, he lowers you until your shoes click on the stone floor, and then he slips his hand out from under your knees, moving it up and taking both of your wrists between his gauntlet’s fingertips and thumb, mindful of the delicate limbs he’s handling.
He can still recall how you’d nearly crumpled to your knees when he got a little heavy handed trying to apply the poultice to your arm. He truly thought he had been correct in gauging the pressure he needed to apply to your flesh to draw blood. He’d only meant to take a little. Just enough to prove the validity of your claim. What an idea that had turned out to be. If War were being honest with himself, he’d been outright startled when your skin peeled open so readily to admit Chaoseater’s blade.
So, if he’s a little more careful in prying your hands off his cowl than he ought to be, well, that’s his own business.
It doesn’t take much coaxing before you seem to come back into yourself.
With a sudden jolt, you wrench your hands away from his hood and start to struggle valiantly with the veil on your face, flipping it back over your head and choking on a sob as your knees start to buckle.
Planting both of his palms on your shoulders, War hauls you upright again.
“Steady,” he murmurs as if he’s addressing a wounded soldier, not a frightened human, “On your feet.”
The sound of clanking boots drifts closer, approaching from his rear.
War bristles, but he’s not the only one who heard Strife’s footsteps.
“You okay, kid?” the gunslinger’s voice drifts over to you, and War watches your jaw cinch shut, the hands at your sides curling into fists as you attempt to stop them from shaking.
Whirling around, you tear yourself from the Horseman’s gauntlets, your dress twirling gracefully around your ankles to find Strife standing a few paces behind you, paused halfway between one step and the next.
Blurting out a delirious laugh, you shoot him a bloodshot stare, half tempted to rip your bag off and lob it at his head.
“Am I okay?!” you echo, “Have you completely lost your mind!?”
Peering down at you appraisingly, War makes a sound that might be affirming, and even his brother lifts a hand to tilt it back and forth in a ‘so-so’ motion.
Breathing hard, you resist the urge to scream and instead lower your head, massaging at your throbbing temples.
Slowly, through gritted teeth, you seethe, “I am trapped… inside a volcano… with two of the scariest people I’ve ever met…”
Strife shares a look with War, the former’s frame wilting as if he’s put out, while the latter, by contrast, almost seems proud of the achievement.
“I,” you continue, a humourless grin straining at your lips, “Just found out that demons exist! I also found out that Lucifer is apparently real…! It is my fucking wedding day!” Vitriol drips from your teeth like venom, and with each passing word, your voice grows louder and louder. “And! I just got chucked! Like a… like a fucking pigskin over a river! Of LAVA!”
All around you, the cavern echoes with the throes of your furious shout, bouncing off the rock walls and coming back to you ten times over before it fades into an uneasy silence.
Lungs heaving with the effort of raising your voice, you stop to breathe, finding, to your dismay, that tears are spilling onto your cheeks, only to start evaporating on your skin in the smouldering heat.
Clearing your throat, you sweep a few fingertips delicately beneath your eyes and wipe away the lingering evidence of moisture cutting tracks through your blusher. “So, no,” you sniffle, “For your information, I am not o-fucking-kay… I think I’m about as far from okay as it gets.”
It’s almost satisfying that the gung-ho Horseman can in fact be made to shut up.
Fidgeting idly with the gauntlet on his left hand, Strife shoots several glances at War, but finds no source of assistance in his fellow Nephilim’s cold, critical glare.
“Uh,” he starts, clenching his hands into fists and opening them again, “I mean… it was kind of funny, right?” He lets out a chuckle that falls painfully flat. “You should’ve seen your face.”
Your jaw begins to ache from grinding your teeth together like you’re trying to crush coal into diamonds.
“Knock-knock jokes are funny,” you say stiffly, turning away from him to scowl at the ground, “People don’t get hurt.”
Draping a hand over his hip, Strife lowers his voice and asks, “Come on, you really thought I’d let you get hurt?”
“OF COURSE I DID!” you suddenly bellow so loudly your voice cracks, “You threw me over a lava pit!”
“War caught you, didn’t he?”
“What if he hadn’t!?”
Strife doesn’t even hesitate before he offers his palms to the ceiling and says, “Then I wouldn’t’ve done it.”
“Why the hell would you-!? Why even take the risk!?”
“There never was any risk,” he shrugs far too nonchalantly, sending his brother a knowing look, “Besides, this is a good thing, right? Now you know you can trust War to keep you alive.”
Pulling a face, you allow a spiteful scoff to burst out of your mouth, arms folding sternly across your chest. “Oh, so that was all so you could prove some point to me, was it? Jesus, what is wrong with you?!”
“Now there’s a door best left unopened,” War chimes in.
At last recognising that there’s some, invisible line he’s crossed, Strife holds his hands up placatingly. “Look,” he concedes, scratching at the back of his head and disturbing the thick spines of ebony hair growing behind his helm, “After what happened back in the Void, I just thought, if we proved we could keep you safe, you’d… maybe start to trust us a little more, y’know?”
You have to take a moment to stare at him, waiting for his words to sink in for you, and hopefully for him as well. “So… you thought you’d show me you can keep me safe by… launching me over a lava pit, and expecting me to know your brother would catch me?”
The Horseman doesn’t speak for several seconds. When he eventually does, he crosses his arms over his chest and huffs, “I mean, if you’re only gonna focus on the first part, sure the plan had holes.”
“Well,” you say haughtily, “No offence, but I trust you two about as far as I could throw you. Which, you’ll be shocked to hear, isn’t very far at all. And unlike you-“ Here, you jab a finger up at his silver visor. “- I’m not strong enough to go around throwing people off the edge of cliffs!”
Once again, Strife remains silent, rapping his fingertips on a metal bicep. Soon enough however, he lowers his head and peers up at you from beneath the lip of his helm’s sockets, prodding, “It was a pretty good throw though, huh?”
“It was a very good throw!” you agree sharply, blowing out a rough exhale as your heartbeat finally begins to ease off the throttle, “Neither of you even had a run up. You two are like something straight out of a comic book… Except without the charisma… and altruism...”
“Comic…?” War asks, frowning, “Then… you are amused?”
“No, not comic like-…” You inhale. You exhale. “Never mind. Weren’t you guys supposed to be looking for something?”
Just like that, the pair of titans straighten up with a start, and you wonder if their ‘mission’ really had slipped their minds for a while.
Rolling his shoulders back, War just grumbles something inaudible and begins moving purposefully towards the grate.
You stand back to let him pass, chewing thoughtfully on your bottom lip as you mull over what you’re about to say.
“Hey, big guy?”
At once, War stops and swivels his head sideways, silver hair spilling out from underneath his hood.
Shuffling awkwardly on your feet, you avoid the pale, unblinking eye that’s trained on your face and call, “Thanks…. For catching me.”
You won’t thank him for healing your arm when he was the one who cut it in the first place. But this? You can swallow your grudge for this. At least for a little while.
Several seconds tick by without a response, and the only sound you can hear is the heavy clanking of boots on stone as Strife ventures up behind you.
And then at last, War’s head falls and rises in an almost imperceptible nod.
When he turns away, you suddenly feel like you can breathe again.
How can one man be so intimidating just by standing still and saying nothing?
You’ve already deduced that the two Horsemen are like chalk and cheese, with one half of the duo serving as the strong, silent type, and the other, a smart-mouthed chatterbox.
… Speaking of whom.
Just as you start to trail after War towards the centre of the platform, an enormous shape sidles up next to you, easily keeping pace with your diminutive gait.
“Hey…” Strife tries, actually sounding hesitant for a change, “Knock-knock.”
Ah. There it is.
“Strife…” His name still sounds foreign on your tongue. “I’m… look, I’m not in the mood, okay?”
“…”
Scoffing quietly, you give your head a defeated shake and sigh, “Fine… Who’s there?”
“Eyes wear.”
… Okay?
“…Eyes wear who?” you venture, hesitant.
Swivelling his helm towards you, Strife bends his neck down, chasing after your face even as you try to ignore him by staring straight ahead.
“Eyes wear to… never throw you across any more chasms,” he offers, tipping his helm upright again, “Lava filled or otherwise. How’s that sound?”
Your lips quiver. “Wow,” you drawl, “I think that was even worse than the last one.”
“Oh yeah?” he replies coyly, “Then why’re you smiling?”
You jerk to a halt mid stride, taking stock of your expression.
Damnit. You are smiling.
You’re a little too slow to force the corners of your lips back down into a straight line, and of course, Strife sees it, tipping his chin back to peer at you triumphantly. You may not be able to see his mouth beneath the visor but judging by the upturned curve of his golden eyes, you just know the smug son of a bitch is grinning from ear to ear.
“I was not smiling,” you insist.
Quick as a whip, he retorts, “Well now you’re lying.”
Stuffing your teeth into your bottom lip, you kick yourself into gear and speed up, marching up to where War has stopped by the grate. “I am not lying, I’m leaving.”
The Horseman’s chuckle haunts you all the way across the platform.
#darksiders#darksiders genesis#strife x reader#war x reader#bride reader#fluff#angst#hurt/comfort#Strife being Strife#Fear#Bad Knock knock jokes#Reader has had enough
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Placing a request for any sub Dr. Ratio headcanons you may have because every time I see him, every time he opens his mouth—my hands, his throat. Man should really get humbled a little/have that big brain of his fucked out until the only thing he can think about is reader’s fingers/strap/dick… I just think he would like overstim/being dommed way more than he’d be willing to admit ☺️
Ratio the man you are 😭 me and my friend tried to sort all hsr characters into a/b/o categories for shit and giggles, and my friend suggested Ratio as beta but I stood my ground. he's omega.
Okay so first of all. His MASSIVE tits. Doctor you're huge but we're talking not only about his dick but his tits as well. They must be sensitive okay. He would frown and squirm a little if you randomly start touching them, but would never push you away. Gets worked up SUPER fast if you touch him there.
Is very demanding actually. Like. I think he would NOT hesitate to comment on your performance. Not out of malice, he just wants you to improve!!
Just know he needs his foreplay and aftercare, it's a must.
Has a very high stamina too, so get ready for several rounds. Will get surprisingly needy and demanding if you need to take a break. You turned him to this moaning mess, so you shoul bare the consequences. And no, using a toy won't do. You must be the one doing the job.
I feel like he's not into toys in general?? He won't mind them but they will never replace your touch.
He gives off pillow prince vibes to me, I don't know why.
Initially refuses to dirty talk or do some kinky stuff because it's embarrassing. "S-stop talking nonsense!" he hisses as soon as you start whispering dirty things into his ear, but you (and anyone else, really) can see how painfully turned on he is.
Fuck him stupid and suddenly he doesn't have any protests whatsoever, doing everything you ask of him.
If you ever remind him how needy and obedient he is in that state, you'll get chalked.
If he refuses your ideas out of embarrassment, just know he's secretly thinking about them. Look what you did, you plagued his brain! Now he can't focus! Well, the only solution now is to satisfy his curiously so he could come back to work 😒
He is into all that freaky stuff tho, he doesn't just do it for you. He's just so embarrassed to admit or initiate it. If he ever suggests something kinky, just know it took so much courage and mental gymnastics.
Loves it when you praise him actually. Gets so whiny and needy when you call him your good smart boy. Will NEVER admit it if asked directly (unless he's overestimulated and can't think straight anymore).
If you tease him too much, he'll get impatient and clingy. He's in that state when he's not really thinking clearly anymore, but also not completely out of his senses. So he clings to you, rubbing his crotch against your thing, while scolding you for taking so much time.
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I HAVE A SUPER ANGSTY IDEA
and thought...
You know Satomi and Toshinori really do love each other but what if they broke up? Now I don't think Toshinori would EVER break up with Satomi unless she cheated or something and Satomi would NEVER cheat....
HOWEVER,
I imagine that Toshinori and Kane go to America (Izuku pulled some strings with Melissa) either for third year or for a year after high school for interning and being sidekicks. But Satomi isn't training to be a Hero, she's in Hero Management (Like Reader) so she can't follow them.
And I can imagine her breaking up with him over it.
"Satomi," Standing in the doorway leading to her backyard was her boyfriend. Toshinori put his hands in his pockets as he took a step outside towards her. "Your step-mom told me to find you out here. You said you wanted to talk?"
Satomi stood with her hands on the railing, her back to her boyfriend of over a year. Her grip was tight as small hard cracks came to fingers showing her hardening quirk spilling through. She let out a stuttered breath, furrowing her dyed red eyebrows before forcing a smile to her face and turning around to look at him. "You... you and Kane are going to the US soon."
"Yah!" Toshinori's green eyes brightened, the same way they did when he was younger. Wide eyed, precious, sweet and charming. For the first time since Satomi knew the green haired boy, she wished she didn't love it as much as she did. "I can't believe Aunty Melissa would do that for us?! A whole year at one of the top ranking hero schools! I mean America seems like an absolute terrifying place but I mean, it's only for a year and we can learn so much from them!" He started to ramble off excitedly, a smile on his face. "And-" He paused as he looked down at his girlfriend. He instantly noticed the type of smile on her face. "What's wrong?" He asked stepping closer to her, and taking a hold of her soft hand.
She swallowed down hard but kept her smile on her face. Toshinori loved her smile. "You guys will be gone for a long time and... well you might decide to extend your stay and intern there."
Toshinori looked to the side with a scoff. "I doubt that. VISA's are such a hassle to get and I don't think I want to sidekick there. I want to focus on Japan."
"But it's possible." Toshinori paused as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to where this was going. "I just think..." She started out softly. "That we should go on a break."
Toshinori froze. Nothing went through his head for a second. "A... a break? Like you... you want to break up?"
"Just till you get back." Satomi stressed.
Toshinori didn't get it. His eyebrows furrowed as he tilted his head, closing his green eyes as he scratched the back of his head trying to wrap his head around this. "I... I don't understand. Did I do something wrong?" He asked. "Did I hurt you? If so you have to tell me."
She quickly shook her head. "No, of course not! I just... I don't want to hold you back."
"Hold me back? Hold me back from what?" He asked. "I don't understand. Why can't we date while we're away?"
"Toshinori, I'll be 13 hours ahead of you!"
"I'll call even if it's 3am for me."
"You'll be over 10 thousand kilometers away!"
"That's why phones exist!"
"Toshinori, you'll be surrounded by so many amazing girls there, and presented with so many amazing opportunities." She looked up at him with tears in her eyes with a forced smile. "I don't want to tear you away from that. You deserve to have it all and not think about me in the process of your decisions."
Toshinori's face scrunched up as he took in her words. "Satomi, I don't care about other girls. I don't want other girls. I want you. I love you." He moved to hold onto her shoulders. "And of course I would think about you, you're the girl I choose."
"Toshi-"
"Satomi, we can do this. It's just for a year, and I'll be back for senior dance and holidays! It'll be perfect." He let out with an anxious smile, ready to commit to anything.
"I-"
"I'll put in the effort and if I don't, Kane will make sure I do."
"To-"
"You'll see. It won't even be like we're far apart."
"TOSHINORI!" She shouted, snapping him out of it. "I just want a break! I don't think I can do this with you so far away!"
"So... you're not even willing to try?"
Satomi didn't answer that question.
And that's when Toshinori knew that this was the end. Satomi watched it on his face. The terrifying moment where the love and urgency in her boyfriend's eyes faded and there was nothing. Nothing. Not a single emotion.
Satomi drew in a breath as she stepped forward. Panic starting to develop within her. "No, Toshinori, no, no, don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Do that!" She let out with tears in her eyes as she tried her best not to start crying. "I know you Midoriyas do that. You just shut down all your emotions. Talk to me!"
Toshinori stepped back out of her grasp, his face not showing an emotion at all. Monotonous and expressionless. "There's nothing to talk about. You want a break? Here it is. I'm giving it to you."
"Toshi-"
"But don't expect me to ever unpause this break."
Satomi felt tears in her eyes as she tried to fight back the tears. She drew in a breath. "Toshi, I love you. I do, you have to know that. I'm doing this for you. I want the best for you!" She tried begging for him to see that.
Toshinori just looked at her. He didn't say 'I love you' back. He didn't aknowledge what she was trying to say.
Nothing.
"Sure."
"Toshinori we can still be friends."
He shook his head as he sniffed. "Nah, I don't think so." He turned around to leave, stepping to her backdoor, deciding to leave. "See you at the farewell party, Kirishima." He didn't look back when he left. He didn't even aknowledge that he was talking to her.
Toshinori wasn't exactly sure how he got home, nor even if he thought at all. Nothing went through his head as his naturally and systematically moved and stepped to the direction of his house.
Even though it was sunset and the sun was setting, Toshinori didn't care. Since most heroes, retired or currently serving, lived in ProHero neighbourhood estates, he wasn't in any danger. His home was just a few streets away. However, even with the usual thirty minute walk that it takes over to his home.
He didn't remember a second of it.
"Toshinori." He looked up at his father as he leaned back in his recliner, looking away from the news playing on the TV. He smiled. "You're back early."
You were sitting on Izuku's lap, a ball of yarn and crocheting needles in your lap. You looked up to your eldest son. Instantly you noticed something was wrong. His face wasn't glowing as it normally did when he came back home from the Kirishimas. His face didn't have lipstick kisses on his cheeks, or a stupid smile on his face or anything.
He had the exact same face that his father would have on whenever something hurt him too much to express himself.
"Toshi?" You asked softly.
Kane turned around from where he was sitting on the couch to look back at his best friend. His eyebrows furrowed together. "Dude, what happened to your hair?"
A streak of white was in the mess of green curls. You hadn't seen his hair turn white since he first discovered One for All. A little genetic surprise that scared Izuku to hell and back when he realised his kids still inherited a bit of All for One's genes in them too.
Asahi turned to look at his brother. His eyes widened as he took off his glasses to make sure he was seeing normally. Hero leaned forward before smiling. "Nice streak Toshi!" He supported.
"It's not a good thing, idiot." Asahi shoved Hero lightly.
Shoyo tilted his head as he looked at his eldest brother. "Toshi, are you okay?"
Izuku looked at you worried. You put down your needles in your bag and got up towards your son. "What happened? What's wrong?"
Toshinori's expression didn't change, he shrugged. "Satomi broke up with me."
At that, the entire room went dead silent as the mood plummeted. Your eyebrows furrowed. "Broke up with you?? Are you sure? What made her do that?"
Toshinori shrugged again. "Long distance doesn't work for her. She's not willing to do that."
Izuku stood up from his chair as he moved to where you were, he motioned with a hand for the rest of the boys to stay where they are and leave you both with your eldest son alone. He motioned for you and him to follow. You put a hand to the back of Toshinori as you guided him outside to the patio.
Izuku closed the door once you were all outside, as you stood next to Toshinori. His eyes were dazed as he stared forward, not having any particular emotion. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not fine." Izuku told him as his eyebrows furrowed as he walked to stand in front of his son. He looked genuinely worried for his eldest as you stood next to Toshinori. "Toshinori, you love that girl and she loves you. So what happened? Did anything happen to prompt this from her or..."
Toshinori shrugged.
"Toshinori... my little sprout..." You moved to put a hand to the side of his face, your eyes baring into his own. "I know you love her."
Nothing happened initially as he slowly looked down at you.
Suddenly you saw his face twist into pain, pure agony going through him as he closed his eyes. He covered his mouth trying to fight that pain inside him. He gasped as his body shook in sobs.
"Oh baby," You quickly wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into your arms. Izuku came up behind you, pulling the both of you into his large arms. It reminded you so much of the time where Toshinori was but a newborn and he would cry, and the few ways to comfort him was just like this. Although now he was taller than you, you couldn't help but see him now like that.
"I love her so much!" He cried into your shoulder.
You nodded your head. "I know, baby, I know."
"How could she do this to me?" He asked brokenly, not wanting to show his face to the both of you as he buried it in the crook of your neck. He hiccuped. "What did i do wrong!? I did everything right! I treated her how dad treats you!"
You closed your eyes as you tried your best not to shed tears yourself at his own heartbreak. Izuku put a hand to the back of Toshinori's head. "You didn't do anything wrong, Toshi, and this shouldn't affect how you treat woman. It was her choice. And I know it hurts right now, but you'll be grateful for it later."
Toshinori shook his head as he clutched onto you painfully, barely finding air to breathe as his heart shattered into a million pieces.
-Glitch1d
#dilf izuku midoriya#dilf izuku x reader#dilf midoriya#izuku midoriya x reader#izuku x reader#midoriya x reader#Midoriya Family Shenanigans#Poor Toshi :(
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ohman ohman- listen-
I've been reading the kazu/scara/albedo/xiao posts (modern au or not) and it just got me thinking about how much stronger men are compared to women-
It's totally accurate how they end up dominating reader with their strength. Like I'm not weak at all irl, but god help if I can ever beat the skinniest dude in an arm wrestling match and these shorter and slim boys got me feeling all type of ways. Like OKAY, maybe darling still has a decent fighting chance with them vs with boys like childe etc but the formers' arms, hands, legs, fingers are still bigger and longer than yours dhdjsksj. For the incel ones (because they don't have that supernatural strength and all as in the canon AU) it might just be one of the few things that boosts their ego, lol!
So real omg I remember there was a point in time where like, I thought that guys were only stronger because they were bigger/worked out more and that if a guy and a girl were the same size and worked out the same then they'd be equally strong, and that scrawny guys were weak… as you can imagine I got humbled so fast lmao
(also thank you anon after the e-girl post I’ve been eager to make a post with all the modern AU boys :3)
-
Deeply in love with the thought of both parties having the gradual realization of just how drastic the male-female gap in strength is — a devastating slap in the face from reality for darling, and a euphoric power trip for him.
Especially with the modern AU for those boys, like… sure, you both know deep down that guys are naturally somewhat stronger, but neither of you realized just how much.
Society’s tendency to shy away from acknowledging the topic has perhaps left darling a bit naive…. dangerously so. Like, playing-with-fire levels of naive, cocky and bratty towards boys like them even after they’ve kidnapped you, thinking that well, they’re short, lean boys, so surely they can’t hurt you, and if they try you can just fight him off, right? It’s not like he’s a broad bulky guy, whom you’d actually have reason to fear…
You may get the chance to notice it more subtly at first — you watch as he picks up something rather heavy around the apartment and think to yourself how odd it is that there’s no strain on his expression, no grunting as one would do when performing physically strenuous tasks, in fact he picks it up and carries it over with a perfectly neutral expression, like it’s not even difficult… maybe it's just not as heavy as you thought…?
But it quickly proves to be what you fear — the reality is you have severely underestimated this aspect of sex difference.
Xiao actually has the most wholesome, tolerable version of this. He has a tendency for not verbalizing his thoughts, he just sort of… does things. One of the more common manifestations of this is that he just. Picks you up.
You’ve been sitting over there doing your own thing for a while like you requested, but now he’s lonely and sad and he wants you over there with him so he just walks over, locks his arms around you and suddenly your feet are off the ground.
He just sorta disrupts you from whatever you're doing and carries you like you're a limp sack of flour on a regular basis, setting (or throwing) you down wherever he wants you to be instead. It's easier than asking you to move. It doesn't even really occur to him that this surpasses your assumption of his strength capacity until you mention it… and at first he thinks nothing of it, but gradually, hearing you grunt in surprise each time you're hoisted upward and the way your feet kick outward actually starts to feel quite nice. A little ego boost, even if he's quieter about it than the others. He didn't realize he was so strong compared to you.
And then you start coming to him to get him to open jars and pick up things you can't, and while he does it all with the same fairly melancholy demeanor as always, internally it actually makes him very happy and prideful each time, makes him feel needed and important and all. He focuses less on the aspect of your weakness and using it against you (unless he’s mad), and more focuses on being strong and hoping that you like it, carefully coordinating efforts to show off in ways that he thinks are subtle enough to seem unintentional (spoiler: they’re not). Unfortunately, mixing protein powder into energy drinks does significantly impact their taste, but he views it as worth it. In the fantasies that play out in his head, maybe one day you’ll even outright tell him he’s sooooo strong in that cute voice like the girls in visual novels do.
Thankfully he's not too outwardly obnoxious about it, and he doesn't degrade you for it (again, except maybe a bit passive-aggressively, but only if you're being mean and hurt his secretly very sensitive feelings first, OR unintentionally due to his dense nature and consequent tendencies to make very blunt statements without thinking them through). He may or may not be deliberately tightening the jars each time he closes them to ensure you need him for it next time, though.
Scara is the inverse because he doesn't really see or emphasize it as himself being strong, more like you being weak.
But no, maybe he's wrong. At least in that case, he has his whole body weight to rely on keeping you down, so that's probably why it felt so easy…? Until then you're being whiny and bratty and he pins you to the wall instead, wondering why you're acting so upset yet not actually fighting him for real… then he realizes you are actually trying. You’re not just half-heartedly tugging in a whiny way, you’re like, actually trying to pull yourself out of his grasp, and giving it your all.
He's also caught off guard by it, early on. Here he had all these backup plans to subdue you if you managed to writhe your way out of his grasp or fight him off, but then in your initial struggle, he quickly realizes how incredibly easy it is to keep you pinned down, and no such plans are necessary.
…And that’s the best you can manage? Seriously? That’s how much weaker you are? It's almost astounding. The shock quickly transitions to pure amusement and satisfaction, and once this difference is discovered, he's going to use it to make your life hell.
He loves the newfound discovery, and actively exercises it at every opportunity. It scratches the itch of those sadistic impulses just perfectly and soothes any bruises to his ego, especially with how apparent it is that it upsets you, how you struggle harder and harder and your eyes prick with humiliated tears and you groan in frustration. So he just ensures he utilizes his superior strength constantly, always holding you down or grabbing you by the arm and keeping you in place, always holding you into uncomfortable positions in bed, and the more you struggle to no avail, the more he seems to enjoy it.
It's actually kind of hilarious too, how you can just be running your mouth and snarling at him one second and pleading and teary-eyed the next, forcibly bent over and held down with your face smushed against the countertop, begging to be let back up, trying with all your might to push your palms onto the surface and push yourself back up to no avail. Him mocking you the entire time doesn't exactly help you keep the tears in, either, but when you start crying it just makes things worse, since that's just used against you to tell you how emotional you are. Emotional and dumb and weak, girls are really such a handful to deal with, sigh…
You can tell how much he enjoys constantly reinforcing your awareness, reminding you of the difference, and it infuriates you — and the more it infuriates you, the funnier and more satisfying it is for him, and the more he does it, and the miserable cycle continues. The only way you were able to actually get some leverage was by insinuating that he only enjoys it because he needs the ego boost as psychological compensation for being so small for a guy… and while you know you're right, the resulting soreness was ultimately not worth the momentary satisfaction of saying so.
Albedo is the most obnoxious about it because one, he's the most acutely aware of it from the start and will make sure you are as well, and two, he finds the whole thing amusing. The man is whipping out the studies and Science™ to explain exactly why he has nothing to fear from you and why you'll never be able to overpower him. Blah blah skeletal muscles this, sexual dimorphism that, fiber size anaerobic muscular metabolic capacity something something… it's too confusing for you to understand, the only thing you know is how infuriating the smugness is.
It's cute to him that you initially have no concept of your inferiority. You still try and fight him and push him and take things from him, only to end up pinned down or hoisted up. Like a… dumb little animal of some kind, that walks right into an obvious trap or attacks its own reflection, is how he sees you. He has no issue telling you this either, he likes seeing how furious it makes you, knowing you can't do anything about it.
He's the worst about constantly applying this as much as he can specifically in bed, too. Keeping your hands pinned above your head, making a point to inform you that restraints aren't really necessary due to your physical inferiority. Telling you with that infuriating dry tone that if you hate it so much, surely you can summon the strength to break free… saying that always ensures you put on a funny little display of struggling.
He’s selective, though, about how he torments you, so the severity of how unbearable he makes the matter depends on how you react to it. His form of sadism is a quiet one, but still quite obvious with how he picks at your weaknesses — so if it’s something that doesn’t bother you that much, he’ll go for something else, but the more it upsets you to be reminded of how much stronger he is and why, the more outright insufferable he’ll be, ensuring you’re constantly reminded that it’s only natural — a smug gesture of faux comfort, disguised as reassurance of normality, but deep down you know it’s really intended to rub salt into the wound by reminding you that it’s essentially immutable, making you feel powerless. He’s a little bastard like that.
Although out of the four, it's by far the most amusing (or vaguely terrifying, for you) with Kazuha.
It's all so… subtle. He’s so sweet, so gentle in his voice and demeanor and mannerisms, and then you find yourself bristling as you watch him snap something in half, lift something, bend something, whatever, that you definitely would not have thought he should be able to. Something that makes you do a double take and sit there slack-jawed and wide-eyed while he continues to go about whatever he’s doing, talking about this or that in that soft voice.
And then when you watch movies laying in bed and try to wiggle away from his hold, the way you feel it tighten so hard you fear your ribs will snap, and he wraps his fingers around your wrist so hard your hand goes numb, you realize it’s not taking any effort on his end at all, he's doing it practically half-asleep.
Even though those incidents make you uneasy, he’s just so gentle-natured that it’s easy to forget and end up acting out at him yet again, getting mad and being a brat, you even go so far as to try and hit him — but he catches you by the wrist, holding your arm firmly in place.
Very firmly. So much so that, when you reflexively jerk backwards, you would have thought you were pulling against an iron chain. He doesn't budge. It makes your heart skip a beat, especially when you see the slight twitch to his smile.
And then you see his eyes widen just a bit. Perhaps surprised at how light your pulling feels, how little strain it causes him.
He never really addresses it out loud, but you can tell that he's increasingly aware from that point forward of just how big the strength gap between you is.
It's actually a bit insulting once you start noticing the shifts and changes — he doesn't tie you to the bed anymore when you sleep. Why would he? It'll be so easy to just pull you back down when he feels you move. You can easily tell that he's noticeably more at ease, he goes from having just the slightest detectable panic when you start to defy him or struggle to being completely unbothered, now that he's realized your defiance holds no weight. He starts a habit of giving you a little warning squeeze if you're making him too upset and being very very bad, just a light little tightening of the grip on your wrist or waist as if to remind you that you both know how much stronger he is than you, that your being very unwise to upset him… and you always notice how his smile grows when it shuts you up instantly.
It's honestly almost more infuriating that he does it all so quietly — you almost wish he would acknowledge it, but instead you get this quiet, unspoken realization and mutual understanding, a ‘you know he knows you know’ sort of situation, and with that mutual understanding comes your gradually increasing lack of defiance, a slow despairing acceptance… and you can tell it makes him very, very happy.
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The voluntary/involuntary debate (-is making me lose my mind)
I don't see anyone saying this, but something being missed in the whole "therianthropy (and otherkinity) is completely involuntary!" conversation is that so much of the argument is overcorrection, and it's being treated as a binary when the lines are all grey. Which makes the constant back and forth feel very tiring.
First: context
10-ish years ago (even today in some crotchety circles), therianthropy-focused spaces were chomping at the bit to "weed out the fluff" due to the surrounding alt culture at the time (teen wolves) and the release of a few documentaries that many considered quite cringe-y and embarrassing. They went "oh god, we can't be associate with those weird people" and, while that wasn't the only contributor to the gatekeeping and grilling culture at the time, it was a significant one. So any new therians hoping to join communities were often grilled the hell out of, because people wanted to check if they were ""real"" therians and not those "fluffy teen werewolves" on TV. Therianthropy wasn't a game or a trend, it's a part of you, which is true. But "it's not a game" got bastardized into "it's involuntary" due to overcorrection and a lack of preserving nuance. Regardless if you think you were born a therian or if someone goes "I really want to be a [nonhuman animal]" and starts to embrace that identity, that's still therianthropy. "I want to be this, therefore I'm going to be this, and I am this" is still therianthropy.
This problem isn't unique to therianthropy either, "otherkinity must be involuntary" is also a result of overcorrection, more specifically due to the ableism and damage kinnie culture has done to the fictionkin community. Dragonheart Collective wrote a concise essay on this, so I will link that [right here] rather than repeat things, other than I have noticed "voluntary" be conflated with "kinnie" when it should not be. "Being kin isn't just relating to or liking something" got bastardized into "otherkinity is involuntary" by the community. Regardless if you think you were born otherkin or if someone goes "I really want to be a [character or nonhuman creature]" and starts to embrace that identity, that's still otherkinity "I want to be this, therefore I'm going to be this, and I am this" is still otherkinity.
Second: nuance.
No, involuntary doesn't inherently mean "it's a game". What counts as voluntary or involuntary is so blurry that a common conclusion can rarely even be reached on what it means. Things that have been seen considered voluntary:
Noticing the identity and choosing to embrace it versus shove it down and dismiss it
Waking up one day
Really wanting to be something and deciding to embrace it, versus dismissing it
Was born with the identity but picks and chooses which parts they prefer to focus on and explore
etc. along the above lines
And these are all perfectly fine ways of experiencing therianthropy and otherkinity, people have been having experiences like that for years. This is completely normal and nothing new and it's so tiring seeing people point fingers at places that these things didn't even come from, like TikTok.
"But what about linking then?"
This debate is much older than "-linking" terminology, which in and of itself is a product of this very debate. People made new words because so many were arguing if someone's identity is real if it originates in a particular way. This doesn't change how "-link" terminology should be used today, but it is worth noting that those are perfectly normal ways to experience otherkinity and therianthropy even if these other terms exist. It means you can use whichever personally feels best to you. It does not mean that people need to be shoved out of the non-link labels.
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The eyes are the windows to the soul (Part 4 - Final)
Masterlist
First < > Previous < > Last
It's the final part!!!!
I know it's been a while but I've been working on lots of things at the moment.
Be warned, this is a long post, you may want to get some tea and a snack before you strap in for the ride.
Trigger Warnings: Body horror, gore, stalking, yandere (ish) behavior.
All goes still and, if not for the gash on their forehead leaking red and the blood drenching their clothes, Not-Cameron looks exactly as they did when they left you earlier today.
Except for their eyes. Glowing silver and devouring black, staring at you with an unreadable emotion.
You don't move. While your brain tries to process what your seeing, fear and a tinge of confusion keep you rooted to the spot.
Not-Cameron stares.
Heavy silence blankets the hallway.
Not-Cameron remains crouched beside the body of your now-dead ex-boyfriend. Pupils dilating and shrinking, dilating and shrinking. Hands digging streaks into the carpet.
They don't look like they're going to move any time soon, so you take the opportunity to focus on the shaking in your limbs and the pounding of your heart.
You take one deep breath, slowly in, slowly out. Followed by another. And then another.
You count to 10 in your head.
Your heart starts to become less noisy. Your hands slowly unclench. The shaking slows.
Waiting.
After what feels like an age, Not-Cameron suddenly shifts. A whine bubbles up from their throat.
"I just wanted...why? Was it too much to ask." Their voice suddenly drops and distorts, the sound vibrates right down your spine.
Not-Cameron twitches, one still slightly-clawed hand reaching forward as they crawl a step torwards you. "______" Your name comes out in a distorted growl. "I thought this would work."
Another step closer.
"So many failures. So many faces. Why!? Why was his the only face you wanted."
You can't help shuffling a little back down the hallway. Your body reacting with natural fear to the uncanny valley effect sweeping over you from how their blank expression contradicts the distorted distress in their voice.
"I just wanted to love you. Now it's ruined." They appear to be spiraling, their hands have definitely sprung claws again.
It is with herculean effort that you stop your shuffle backwards and instead lean forward, speaking in an even calm tone. "Not-Cameron."
They freeze.
"That's what i've been calling you in my head." You take a shuddering breath, forcing yourself to meet their predatory gaze with your own. "Since you first arrived, seven months ago. I knew you weren't Cameron."
A deep vibration begins to echo in the hallway, one you recognise as a growl. Not-Cameron's face begins to twist into a grimace.
"I didn't care."
The sound stops as their eyes widen, impossibly. You can visibly see all their muscles tense under their skin.
You slowly raise a hand, bracing against the wall to stand. Their gaze follows you up. "I..." You clear your throat, fighting the dull pain from the bruises you can feel. "I liked you more than Cameron."
You take one step forward. "I liked talking with you."
Another step. "I felt safer."
You're stood right in-front of them. "I'm not afraid of you."
"You lie!"
Your fight your body's urge to flinch when they suddenly stand. Their hands come up, the tips of their claws resting just besides your face.
"You. Are. Scared. Of. Me"
You keep your feet rooted to the spot. Focusing on the tears at the corner of their eyes to distract you from the fear bubbling behind your teeth.
A human trait, you think, to cry when overwhelmed rather than just for pain.
If the distortion in their voice is indicator enough to you that their emotional state is currently too much for them to handle.
A memory rises in your mind, unbidden. A memory of Not-Cameron comforting you when you were overwhelmed.
Not long after they arrived. Your mind was beginning to buckle under the stress and you would find yourself crying alone in the bathroom or stiffling a scream while in the middle of cooking. Eventually you found yourself crying along in your bedroom, bundled up beneath the covers, trying to muffle your sobs with a pillow. Not-Cameron found you like that, red-eyed and snotty-nosed.
They had silently sat with you, gently rubbing your back and talking about anything and everything until you calmed. They asked what you needed, ran you a bath, made you food. Reassurences and affirmations tumbled from their lips like water. They gave you space, asked before approaching you for anything, gave you anything you asked for.
Eventually, you started to feel like you wanted something certain to combat all the fear and uncertainty. So you asked for routine, for surety. And they provided. Slowly, you started to feel better. Started to feel less scared and uncertain. Started to feel safe.
Even slower than when you stood, you bring your hands up. "If I was scared." You wrap your hands around the back of their fingers. "Would I do this." You turn your head, gently manouevering their hands so you don't catch a claw to the eye and lean towards them, placing a gentle kiss to their palm.
You taste iron, internally cringing at the knowledge that his hands are still covered in the blood of Cameron. But the disgust you feel at the wet sensation on your face cannot overshadow the relief you feel as their claws retract. You aren't dying today.
Tears are now freely flowing down Not-Cameron's face. "I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry." They choke out the words in between sobs, dropping to their knees and burying their face in your shirt. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. He hurt you. I'm sorry."
The distorted growl in their voice sends a jolt through you, but the broken choking sound that follows after dispells all your fear.
You bury your hands in their hair. "It's okay, sweetie. It's alright."
Not-Cameron lets out a broken whimpers at the pet-name. Turning their watery gaze up to yours. "I'm sorry. I lied to you."
They look completely normal now. If not for the blood and the mangled corpse lying not three feet away, you would have found this position suggestive.
Suddenly Not-Cameron pulls away.
"Oh no." Their hands hover over your shirt and sides, not quite touching. "I got blood on you. I'm sorry. I'll clean it. I'll clean it all."
Their distress tugs at your heart, and you drop to your knees. "Look, it's..." You sigh. Gently resting your hands on their shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles on their collar bone. "I won't say it's okay. But I will say we can work this out...I think."
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
You physically jump at the sound of the smoke alarm.
"The cake," you whisper. A hysterical laugh bubbles up in your throat. "I forgot the cake."
Not-Cameron's bones audibly crack as they suddenly racket up to stand again. They gently push on your shoulders, directing you to turn. "I'll fix it."
Once you start walking towards the stairs, away from Cameron's corpse, a feeling of cold brushes over your shoulder. Suddenly, their image at the side suddenly seems to blur forward and you glance sideways to see no-one there.
The loud clatter of a pan on the worktop downstairs prompts you to quicken your pace. The smell of smoke and the grey haze in the air calls you to go faster.
The kitchen window is open. Not-Cameron is waving a tea-towel around to dispell the smoke. The charred remains of your cake sit in the pan on the side.
Another little laugh hiccups out of you. The domesticity of the sight jarrs against the shocking turn you just experienced upstairs.
You stagger forward. The cake is scrapped out into the food bin, and the pan deposited in the sink to soak. You take the opportunity to run your hands under the hot water. Scrubbing at the red staining your skin until the water runs thick with it.
Not-Cameron joins you, slowly siddling up to your side. Soap is dispensed and red foam swirls. After a few moments of harsh scrubbing your hands are looking cleaner than before, but you can't see it.
The red still fills your vision.
You keep scrubbing. Hands rubbing together again and again.
The warmth of Not-Cameron at your side is both a comfortable reminder of domestic normalcy and sets your teeth on edge.
The water runs clear but you still see red.
You grab the sponge. Drawing it over your skin like you want to scrub the flesh from bone. You think you hear something but all the sounds have gone muffled.
The image of Cameron's eyes staring at nothing in your mind, and yet somehow they glare at you accusingly in your memory. Scrub harder. Wash it away.
"_____ Stop!"
The sound of your name startles you and snaps your vision back into focus. Not-Cameron's face fills yours, concern evident in the turn of their lip and the frown pulling at their eyes. The sponge is ripped from your hands and something thick and viscous suddenly engulfs them. You go to look down but one of their hands suddenly catches your chin, stopping you from looking down.
"Look at me. Breathe." Their silver eyes hold your gaze captive. The squishy substance holding your hands hostage drags your arms up, pressing your palms to Not-Cameron's chest. Their heartbeat is steady...and strong, almost like it's beating right up against your palm.
Your mind zeros in on the steady thump-thump of their heart. Like the pitter-patter of rain, or the steady beat of footsteps on a cobbled road. The calming effect is powerful.
You take one shuddering breath after another.
"There you go, love. Breathe." Not-Cameron's voice surrounds you with its lilting, soothing undertones. A sound you had grown to like over the past seven months.
You feel the squishy substance coating your hands retract and change, until you feel the familiar weight of Not-Cameron's hand on the back of your palms.
"Come on. Come take a seat." Step by step. Beat by beat. They lead you through the doorway to the living room.
You're gently lowered to sit on the couch.
Your eyes zero in on the wet stain on the furthest cushion. Cameron's face starting to fade back into your consciousness.
There expression drops, glancing between you and the stain. A feral snarl rips through Not-Cameron as they fling the wet cushion away. Lowering themselves to kneel in the space left behind.
Their hands don't leave yours, thumb rubbing back and forth over the back of your left hand. The gentle pressure serves to keep you grounded; brings you back to the present.
"It's over. You're safe. Nothing else will happen to you, I promise."
The words combine with the pressure on your hand to form a powerful spell, banishing the images of blood and death to the back of your mind to be dealt with later in the quiet of night by your subconscious.
You only register the fact that you were shaking once it stops...and Not-Cameron releases your hand. Withdrawing just slightly, giving you space. They turn their body to sit in a more relaxed stance, staring blankly at the dark TV screen.
They hold out a cup to you, and you take it. You don't ask how they suddenly produce a full cup of your favourite drink from the empty space behind them; either they have more hands (or aproximate) than you know or they can levitate objects and you don't know which would be weirder and how much more weird you can handle right now.
"Thank you." You don't know if your whispered thanks are to thank them for helping you calm down, for the drink, or for stopping Cameron from suffocating you upstairs. A little bit of both you surmise.
The sound of a purr starts and then stops just as quick. Even though Not-Cameron has turned to the side, you can see their jaw shift as they clench their teeth. "I'm sorry. You need normal right now."
You almost jolt at how serious they sound.
"More normal than me."
You ponder those words.
The solid weight to them. The sadness. The regret. The bitter twinge of jealousy. The quiet easy-to-miss upward-lilt of a question.
Like coins, you count up your memories with them; the scary and unnerving are outweighed by the happy and comforting. But the most recent coin is tarnished and in need of polishing, before it can be added to the wallet and put away in your pocket.
"Upstairs. When you..." You trail off.
"Killed him." Not-Cameron finishes for you.
You take a sip to clear your throat before resting the cup on one thigh, wrapping your hands around the ceramic and focusing on the temperature to keep your grounded state. "Were you going to hurt me." The word "hurt" almost sticks in your throat.
Not-Cameron turns like they've been electrocuted. Their hands reach out for you but hover just short. "No. Never. Never hurt you." Their voice distorts again, a tinge of black creeping in around their eyes, but this time it doesn't fill you with a feeling of dread.
Their head bows forward, shoulders hunching inward. Shame overtaking their features. "I...I'm sorry. I thought if I scared you..." They blink rapidly. Hands shaking as they pull back. "I didn't want to..." It's their turn to take a steadying breath. "I don't want to lose you now."
"Okay. Listen to me." You put your drink on the coffee table and turn to Not-Cameron, shuffling closer until you knee almost touches theirs. You gently reach out for their shoulder, lightly brushing the flannel. "These past few months, have been like a dream. I've felt safe and happy and I finally know what it's like to love someone who loves me back just as much. But I have to know..."
Not-Cameron turns to face you again. The black has vanished from the whites of their eyes. Their posture is tense, like their set to run.
"...Why did you replace Cameron."
At your words they somehow tense up even more. Not-Cameron's gaze twists and for a split second you think they're gonna burst into tears again. But then suddenly their face relaxes, all expression dissapearing. "You didn't want anyone else."
"What do you mean?" You question.
"I tried. Before, I mean. I talked to you. Tried to get close." The skin of their face ripples and for a few seconds it's like a slideshow of multiple different faces appearing and dissapearing.
You even recognise some of them; a bus driver, a homeless man, a child who sat one table over at your local cafe who you spoke to for a while while they were waiting for their mother to come back from the shop next door, a guy who stood to give you their seat on the train.
They continue talking even as their face shifts. "So many faces. I learned so much. But every time I tried, I couldn't get closer. You didn't want any of them. You chose him." Their face settles back into the visage you've grown used to seeing over the past seven months. "So I used his face."
"What do you mean you tried?"
Their face changes again, until you're looking at the cute stranger you'd met in a bar three weeks before you started dating Cameron. They speak with a drawling twang, a voice you haven't heard in months. "Well, then beautiful. Could I buy you a drink."
Their face changes again, becoming the stranger who'd lent you an umbrella last year. Speaking in a higher smooth voice. "Take it. I'd feel bad if you caught a chill."
You'd forgotten about those encounters until right this moment. You remember the feeling of 'something's wrong' that had struck you during them.
Their face starts to change again and you snap. "Okay, stop!"
The shifting immediately settles back into Cameron's face.
You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You blindly reach out, searching. When you find their hand you feel them pull back slightly before accepting the hand hold. You focus on the warmth of their hand in yours and quickly pull up your memories of cuddling on the couch and movie nights with popcorn. Once the beating of your heart has settled to a steady rhythm again, you open your eyes, meeting Not-Cameron's blank gaze with your own. "So, you became Cameron."
They nod.
"But...what I don't understand is...how did you know everything he knew."
They pull their hand out of yours, sighing before they speak. "I needed to ea-needed to keep him alive until I knew everything." Their voice cracks slightly when they correct themself. Their hand comes up to lightly brush the edge of your neck. "But you were hurt because he got out. I was too complacent."
"So you were taking his memories."
Another nod.
"He...the body upstairs. Um...will you forget, or..."
"No. i'll remember...." a sincere expression suddenly floods over their face like a wave "...and I'll take care of it. I promise."
The air grows heavy as a silence falls over you.
You sense no hostility in them but you find the silence uncomfortable.
A promise has been obtained that the immediate problem of the dead body lying in your upstairs hallway is not going to be a problem bringing police to your door and leading to a lifetime in jail.
And yet, an uncertain future hangs over your head, and the urge to set something in stone burns in your chest.
"I want you to stay." / "I promise I...."
You speak at the same time.
Not-Cameron's mouth snaps shut mid-sentence at your words.
You wait to see if they'll finish their sentence, but they seem to have frozen again like they did upstairs.
So, you continue. "I mean. Everyone would be suspicious if Cameron stopped going to work and, the neighbours love you, and as I said before...I think I might have...maybe...I love you."
Their breath hitches at the word love, but you continue.
"And well...the real Cameron can't ever come back so, it would make sense for you to stay and I would appreciate it if you would keep pretending to be him and..." You trail off.
There's something heartbreaking about the crestfallen expression making it's way onto Not-Cameron's face. He twitches each time you say the name Cameron, even as he nods along in agreement.
You switch track. "What is your name?"
"What?" Not-Cameron jolts, expression wiped clean for a second and pupils dilating.
"i can't keep calling you Not-Cameron. I want to know your name." You speak slowly to ensure the emphasis is clear. Keeping their eyes locked with yours.
For a few seconds, their pupils grow and shrink rapidly, like a blinker light. After a moment, they settle again and expression returns to their face. Their expression is reminiscent of a soldier, stealing themselves to face the firing squad. "Alright, love." They shuffle in their seat before suddenly holding out their hand to you again.
You take it.
"My name...my real name...is Dieter." Their voice distorts midway, becoming deeper and husky, like tv static given voice. "It was given to me. To be my own."
You repeat it. Testing the feel and flavour of their name in your mouth. You decide you like it, and say it again.
A lovestruck grin begins to spread across Dieter's face. Their teeth are slightly sharper than normal and their pupils turn into literal hearts, which they quickly blink away.
You grab their cheeks, lightly pulling their face towards yours.
Dieter follows like a sunflower seeking light, willingly shifting forward to kneel on the couch. Arms braced either side of you to not fall forward and crush you beneath them.
"If we're gonna make this work. Don't hide that."
"Hide what?"
"The hearts, they're cute."
With a single blink, the hearts return. "Okay," they breath. "Need anything else."
You take a deep breath and let go of their face. Warmth burns the corners of your eyes and tears begin to spill.
Your body has finally begun to register the finality of it all. Relief and the backflow of your emotions are all spilling from your eyes.
A distressed expression flickers across Dieter's face as you shuffle yourself back, leaning into the cushions.
"I need a hug or I'm gonna cry. Please."
It's a lie. Well the part about needing a hug is true, but the tears were going to fall regardless of whether you recieve the physical comfort immediately or not.
Dieter complies without hesitation, regardless of the truth to your ultimatem. Immediately following you into the corner of the couch and wrapping their arms under you. They turn, lifting you and settling you on their lap with startling ease.
You cling to them like they'll dissapear any moment. Burying your face in the crook of their neck and fighting the urge to scream out your emotions.
One arm coils around your legs while the other wraps around your back. A large hand cradles the back of your head, gently massaging your skull in a soothing motion.
A familiar humming vibration starts and stops again.
"I like the...the purring...t...too." You barely choke out the words against their neck through your muted sobs.
The vibration starts up again. The purr could put any motorcyle engine to shame. The sound is damn near ethereal, like sitting in an echo chamber filled with singing bowls playing healing vibrations; a feeling like liquid gold seeps through your battered frame.
"I love you. I will make it right. I promise." Dieter's voice switches between the familiar tones of Cameron and the deeper pitch they've revealed to be their real voice, but both carry the same weight of adoration.
Exhaustion rears its head and your eyelids grow heavy.
"You can sleep, meine liebe. Everything will be fixed when you wake."
The sobs wracking your body begin to lose their edge as darkness creeps into the edge of your vision. Dieter shifts, their body somehow becoming softer. The pull of sleep becomes too powerful to fight.
You begin to drift, cradled in warmth and soothing vibration.
Your last thought before darkness envelops you fully surpises you. The spark of your subconscious is as brilliant as a star in the void of the dreaming abyss.
How wonderful it is to be loved.
First < > Previous < > Last
#doppelganger x you#doppelganger x reader#doppelganger boyfriend#tw death#doppelganger#shapeshifter x you#shapeshifter x reader#shapeshifter#monster x reader#monster boyfriend#mimic#mimic x reader#mimic x you#monster x you#x reader#x you#tw blood#tw body horror#tw uncanny valley#yandere#soft yandere#the eyes are the windows to the soul#teatwtts
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Congarts on the two year old blog!
If it's fine, can I request a FD sky in the royal au; just getting to know reader, flustering them at every turn and being a genuine menace to them
-🍄
YEEEEEEEEEESSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!
Masterlist
Content under the cut!
You didn't know what to do with the man that sat across from you.
If you could even call him a man.
His hair was stark white, perfectly accented by the bright red feathers in his hair as it draped over his shoulders. He had a pearlescent cape with a design of the country's emblem on the back. His clothes were about as casual as you could get when speaking to the King.
He's wearing black pants at least but his shirt holds the regality of the royal family. It's also white with stars and moons embroidered in golds around the edges with swirls that connect from one side of the tapestry to the next. It looks almost like a story was woven directly into the fabric. You're tempted to read it, but you don't want to be seen openly ogling the King in his own house.
His eyes were just as white as his hair with no sign of which direction he would be looking in, but it was clear to every hair that stood up at the back of your neck that he was very much watching you. More so than you were watching him.
A shaky hand reaches for the tea cup he's order to be served to you. You're not sure why you're here or what he wants with you, but he seems relaxed at least.
But you don't know what that means for you, so you're still a nervous wreck.
"I hear that your bakery is the best in my kingdom." He says after a beat once you set your tea cup back on the little saucer. You try to focus on that instead of the booming voice that threatened to pour into your very veins.
The cup has a beautiful floral pattern. It looks like porcelain but you could be wrong. The beautiful forget-me-not pattern echoes on the saucer below. the swirling flowers are beautifully painted.
But you feel dizzy and nauseous in an instant.
You put the cup away.
"Thank you... Your Majesty." You finally answer him. "I wouldn't personally say it's the best. but business has been good and your people have treated me nicely."
"My people?" There's an up tilt to his words and you have the slightest suspicion that there's humor in his words, but you struggle to read him.
"Yes." You answer calmly. "Your people."
"Are you not one of my people?" He picks up his own tea cup and takes a sip. You feel like running away.
"I'm not originally from here." You bite your lip and grip the seat beneath you. Every fiber in your being is telling you to run for it. But you're rooted to the spot.
The king nods and tilts his head as if in thought. "I suppose your accent would check out in that regard."
He says nothing as he takes another sip of his tea. Can't you just go home already?
"I'm having a party." He says at last. "I was hoping you'd be willing to cater it."
You feel your heart stop as relief threatens to melt you into a puddle. It's just business. You can do business. "O-oh... is that all?"
He nods once more. "I'd like a list of your menu and potential skills outside of your typical armory. I'm sure it goes without saying that you should bring the best of your accomplishments."
You can feel your nerves stealing in you as he speaks. You'll show him. These will be the best of the best. "Of course. I've never disappointed a costumer. I don't plan on starting now."
This time he actually smiles. "Perfect. May I ask for the estimate? I plan on giving a hefty down payment first-"
"No. For free." You cross your arms, ignoring the tea.
He stills, clearly not expecting that. His eyes don't obviously dart to you but the energy changes. The hair on the back of your neck stand up once more but you're not willing to budge on this.
"...I don't think so." He says calmly. "I pay for the full deal. I don't accept handouts."
"It's not handouts." You try to not glare at him. "It's exposure. The business that would result from this would payback tenfold the amount it would take to cater your party."
He frowns and stares at you as if you've said something dumb. "...I'm paying."
"No, you're not." You cross a leg to emphasize the point.
The King tilts his head. "Yes. I am. End of discussion."
"No you're not." You feel it in yourself to be indignant.
"Yes." He's smiling but you're not sure what to think about it. "I will pay the full price one way or another. I've enjoyed our chat but I'm afraid I've got other matters to attend to."
"That's a shame." You shrug. "Because this conversation isn't over until you let me do this for free."
The King of the land stops as he gets to his feet and kisses your cheek. "Then I suppose I'll simply have to invite you again, my dear. I'll see you soon."
You freeze and stay rooted to the spot once more as he leaves the room.
Your tea has gone cold by the time you're escorted out of the castle. This wasn't exactly what you had in mind- nor are you confident in yourself to keep surviving interactions with this powerful man.
Why couldn't he just have dropped it?
#linked universe#linkeduniverse#linked universe x reader#lu x reader#lu sky#royal au#fd! sky#FD! Sky
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Sorry if I'm requesting again and you can refuse to write this, I absolutely understand: Rhea and reader (not a wrestler) are best friends out of the ring and she notices reader's temperament started to change in cold and agressive and she realizes something is happening... Turns out reader is trying to fix her relationship with another woman she loves so much, but she became mad because of the love for her and Rhea is trying to make her see it isn't worth it...
Open your eyes, it's not worth it
General Masterlist | WWE Masterlist | Rhea Ripley Masterlist
Characters: Rhea Ripley, Reader
Prompt: Rhea and reader (not a wrestler) are best friends out of the ring and she notices reader's temperament started to change in cold and agressive and she realizes something is happening... Turns out reader is trying to fix her relationship with another woman she loves so much, but she became mad because of the love for her and Rhea is trying to make her see it isn't worth it...
AN: Always feel free to leave me some prompts, I'll gladly elaborate them! I hope I didn't overdo it with this fic.
If requested, I could do a second part, if anyone is interested.
To: Bestie
- Ehy, I'm back in town, do you want to go eat something together at our favorite restaurant? -
You look at the message Rhea has sent you, but put away your phone, as the woman you are in love with, is screaming at you.
You have done nothing wrong, at least this is what you think, but things with her are going down the abyss.
"Are you even listening to me? Or are you thinking about that wrestler... Your bestie?" She slams a hand on the table in front of you and you gasp out of fear.
"Please. Don't leave me... I love you so much, I... I can stop talking to her, if she is the problem." It hurts to say something like that, because Rhea has helped you many times ever since you know each other.
"You are spending more time with her or on the phone with her, than with me! Are you in love with her?" The other woman screams in your face, closing a hand to a fist.
"She is on the road most of the time, I'm not spending more time with her than with you." You close your eyes for a moment, screaming when you feel a hard slap on your cheeks. "What the...?" You stand up out of surprise, grabbing your purse. "There is nothing between me and Rhea, remember that!"
You go to the door and open it, slamming it hard behind you once you are out. You can't believe she slapped you: you had done nothing wrong. You get into the car and drive around without really knowing where to go, crying.
To: Bestie
- Yn? Is something wrong? -
You stop your car and settle your forehead against the steering wheel, taking out your phone. You dial Rhea's number, drying off your tears with the hem of your t-shirt.
Rhea answers immediately, still worried. Lately you have been giving her the cold shoulder, but you can't ignore her anymore, not right now at least.
"Yn please talk to me. What is wrong?" She can clearly hear you so and mutter something difficult to understand, before she speaks clearly.
"Your place? I'll explain there."
You manage to say, starting your car once again once she tells you yes. It takes you 15 minutes to get there, but you are relieved when you finally park in her driveway and you notice her out there, waiting for you.
A small smile appears on your lips and you get out of the car, crashing into her open arms to get a hug. Tears start to stream down your cheek once again, while you hide your face in her chest.
"I am sorry, Rhea..." You whisper as she gently pets your hair. "Sorry for disappearing like that. I have this woman I'm madly in love with, who is super jealous of you." You winced when Rhea caressed your offended cheek. "I tried to make her reason, to tell her that we are just besties, but she hasn't believed me. She..." You sigh heavily. "She slapped me before I ran away and came here."
"She did... What?" The only thing the Australian could focus on was the slap she mentioned. "Yn please... This is getting too dangerous and it is not worth it." She walks into the house still holding you tightly.
"But I love her so much..." You murmur, holding onto her t-shirt, looking up at her, who seems angry.
"Yn look at me." Her tone is stern, while she lifts your chin up to look at her, brushing a thumb over your aching cheek. "She shouldn't have slapped you in the first place. You don't deserve her, if she acts like this. I'm back for two entire weeks, with shows being not too far away from here. I got your back. But please... Do it for you, if you don't want to do it for me." She kisses your forehead and you start crying again, not sure what to do, but deep down you know Rhea is right.
#rhea ripley#rhea ripley x reader#rhea ripley imagine#mami rhea#wwe imagine#wwe fic#wwe fanfiction#ask me
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p1 hcs becuz I am normal abt characters
-his real name is Rick but he prefers to go by Dude (I like to think that p2's name is Rick too but we aren't talking abt him rn)
-in his 20s (like...26 or 28???) he looks older to some people though, if he even goes out
-has severe generalised anxiety disorder, PTSD, hypochondria, schizophrenia, social anxiety, and OCD
- has Anthropophobia, Ataxophobia, Catagelophobia, Claustrophobia, Daemonophobia, and probably way more
-started to take medication at some point but eventually stopped because he thought they wouldn't work and make him more paranoid
-he owns guns (A LOT of them) probably like, 25. he keeps them perfectly clean and safe, stocked up on his wall or in his panic room. (we'll get to that part soon) he'd probably have a collection of other weapons too, like a bunch of knives and axes (he also keeps them very clean, obsessively)
-owns a little radio so he can listen to MTV, music that he's into, like Nickelback, KMFDM, Judas Priest, Oingo Boingo and Black Sabbath. helps him relax when he feels like he's really losing it. (he also tries to listen in on the feds, like if they're spying on him. he's that paranoid.)
-cuddles with champ often. especially when hes in bed. he loves that puppy as much as life itself (he'd kill for him)
-gets sunspots when hes out in the sun for awhile 🌤
-smokes pot frequently. his house probably reeks of it, and so does he lets be real
-smoking too much of the pot can fuck him up, yet he doesn't stop. he doesn't know what else to do, and he doesn't trust doctors.
-fidgets alot. holds onto his cross when hes scared or in need of comfort. bites his nails too.
-has acne scars
-sensitive to bright lights (why he wears sunglasses all the time)
-gets sick really often. all the time. almost died during a few probably
-has shit posture 🦐
-breaks things when hes overwhelmed or angry
-has a bunker/panic room in his basement. keeps way more weapons down there, including MRE's and dog food as well. he thinks about the world coming to an end and so that's basically why he built it.
-hardly ever leaves his house. feels like the government is going to come for him, so whenever he sees a black vehicle outside, like a van, he freaks the hell out. If he was going to go out and get the mail that day you can forget it.
-cant hold down a job for long. Idk how this man even has a house (government probably gives him money) that is until he eventually gets evicted (hope this makes sense enough im sleepy)
-can't drive even though he took his learners as a teen. he just can't. makes him more nervous and unable to focus on a lot of things at once, so he either walks or takes the bus.
-kids would often call him a demon or pull his hair. they thought he was a freak since he never liked to be around any of the other kids, he was always off in some corner or inside at recess, so he was sadly the target of their taunts.
-his parents weren't redheads like him (recessive genes) so when he was born his mother thought he was the spawn of the devil. she never wanted anything to do with him, as did his dad, so P1 desperately tried everything to get their attention/approval, but nothing ever worked. he eventually left home when he turned 17.
k thats mostly it ty for reading if u did eee
#ig my vers of him but idk#uhm...yyeah uh#its alot im srry i love comin up with hcs for characters#headcanons#postal 1997#postal dude#tw abuse#tw drug mention
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Okay okay, I have a cute little idea. So I'm a ranter. Theres time when I just start talking about things (most commonly my most current special intrest) and I've been told by some people that I talk so much and fast that they can't understand what I'm talking about and get lost.
So now I'm imagining in the beginning of the relationship Finn felt sorta insecure about his ranting (we know that poor boy is) and then the first time the listener invites him over to their house for the night. He's a little shy about sleeping in bed with them and stuff and they get into bed and he's ready to lay down and cuddle and sleep but Sunflower just sits up and starts ranting and going on and on and on about whatever it is that was on their mind in that moment and Finn just sits there with the most lovesick eyes ever. Like he's just loving life. Like he gets lost on what their talking about but not cause he can't understand them but cause he's just lost looking at them.
OMG he's just so cute I wanna squish him like a bug sometimes🫶❤️
Ranting love.
Finn felt his nerves move all over his body as he got comfortable on the bed. It's been a while since he has had anyone with him on it, not since....Finn decided to just ignore hat and focus on his lovely partner. Who was already snuggling into his blanket and pillows like a cat giving him a cheeky smirk too.
"Don't worry I won't kick you off the bed if that's what your thinking of!" Chuckling was their answer as Finn finally got into bed. He faced Sunflower and opened his arms a bit, they have been cuddling for a while and he kinda wanted to hold them right now. Sunflower gave a loving look and slipped into his embrace, Finn felt giddy by their actions.
"This is nice." Softly saying as Sunflower hummed both looking at each other and then Finn continued. "So anything exciting happen today?" His partner hummed some more thinking of all the things that happened today.
"Well there was a customer that came in and had a cool pin from a movie I liked! It was so cute! It was from Howl's moving castle!!" Reaching for the bedside table they got their phone and showed him the pin, "I was able to get permission to take a photo of it! Isn't it so cute??" It was Calcifer, a small but powerful fire demon that was in this cute art style in the pin. Finn cooed at it, he remembered how Sunflower wanted to show him the movie. It was really good!
Sunflower asked their boyfriend if anything interesting happened with him, "No not really, but there was a debate between two friends in front of the story about that one show you like." This made Sunflwoers eyes widen as they blurted out.
"OH MY GOD! I just remembered that there is this one coworker that watches the same show as me right?" Finn a bit taken aback from the shout they let out nodded, "She tried to act like I knew NOTHING about the show?? Like newsflash asshole I know everything about it because it came out in middle school and I got obsessed with it???" With awe Finn watched as his lover rant about the show, he watched it with them before.
But he never really saw them get worked up like this when telling him about it the first time. He was just watching them, be so in to the rant they were giving him it marveled him really because he was so use to the one ranting.
"AND THEN SHE WAS LIKE 'ThAtS nOt RiGhT' NO IT IS!!! I KNOW IT IS AND SHE JUST DECIDED NOT TO LISTEN TO ME???" Sunflower was erratically telling Finn about the interaction they had a work they almost forgotten to tell him! Basically there was a coworker that tried to tell them that Sunflower was wrong about a tv show they were obsessed with.
"And Finn, love of my life, the apple of my eye, the sun to my flowers! You want know what she tried to tell me about the timeline about the show???" Folding their hands on Finn's chest while looking at Finn who was looking at them with all the interest in the world.
"What did she say Sunflower?" Smiling as his partner passionate ranting about something they loved. It reminded him of how they always listened intently about his flower facts. Sunflower kept telling him how the coworker, Sheila, said that the main characters never liked each other. But really all Finn could focus on was his love for Sunflower right now, how pretty they looked glaring at a wall when thinking about the spread of misinformation about their favorite show.
"-inn? Finn are you okay?" Worry in his partners voice he snapped out of it and looked into their eyes again. They pushed themselves up more on his body, his arms instinctively wrapped around them flashing a smile.
"I'm fine don't worry. What happened next?" Answering caused Sunflower to giggle a bit and peck his cheek before continuing their rant. Suddenly he didn't feel so insecure about his ranting.
#red rants#yuurivoice#yuurivoice finn#red answers#red writes#i couldn't think of a show off the top of my head#but one i got obsessed with in middle school was Voltron#KLANCE SHOULD HAVE HAPPENED!!!#I was so fucking pissed when it didn't like wdym do you not see Lance flirting with Keith every second he got after season 1???#I'm pretty sure we all heard him call older Keith grizzled and throwing looks at him???#oh god my Voltron faze is coming back#I SHOULD REWATCH IT!!!
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Happy Birthday, Margaret
૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა FLUFF Alphabet ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა
A | attention: How much attention do they want in the relationship?
So much! Well, at first, it would be a little too much for her with her shy nature, but as your relationship starts to bloom, she will want you to give her attention, although I think her main focus would be giving you attention.
B | Baby: Would they want a family?
She would love to have a baby with you. She always wanted to be a mother, however. Margaret would understand if that was something you didn't want. I do think her need to care for something would come out in other ways, maybe by helping at a youth center.
C | Cuddle: What do they like when they cuddle with you?
Margaret is a cuddle monster. Always want you in her arms, or the other way around.
D | dates: What are dates with them like? What do they like to do?
At the start, I could see her being nervous about every little detail, but as you both grow together, she puts together more simple date ideas that you both enjoy. Margaret would love baking together or going on a picnic (anything to do with food).
E | equal: do they prefer to be more in control or laid-back in the relationship?
Margaret is very much okay with you taking the lead in the relationship, but she will start to freak out if there is a bump in the road. She doesn't want to lose you.
F | fights: how do they handle fights?
She would be distraught and try to make it up to you any way she knew how. This is her first relationship, so she will need a little guidance and reassurance.
G | gratitude: how grateful are they to have you? What do they think your relationship is worth in comparison to other things in their life?
Margaret views your relationship as one of the most important things in her life. She wants to keep, nourish, and care for it in the same way as she would a plant. She is terrified of ending your relationship because she believes it is worth not only sacrificing for but also living for.
H | honesty: Honesty: Are they honest with you? How important is honesty to them?
Super important. Communication is key, and Margaret wants to be the one you talk to when you have a problem because she wants to be the one to fix it.
I | insight: how easy is it for them to read your mind and tell how you are feeling?
Oooo. This is hard. I don't think very well. Margaret second-guesses herself a lot, so you would have to be very clear, and while she might have an idea of how you are feeling, she is too scared to voice it.
J | Jealousy: What makes them jealous? What are they like when they’re jealous?
Margaret gets more insecure than jealous, and I think what would make her jealous is if you ignored her to focus on the other person, making her feel invisible.
K | kisses: What are their kisses like? who kissed who first? where do they like to kiss you?
I can't say who kisses who because that will be all up to revealed. But Margaret's kisses are soft and sweet; her favorite place to kiss is your cheek.
I | love language: what’s their favorite love language?
- Love to Perform: Physical Touch, Gift Giving, & Acts of Service
- Love to Receive: Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, and Physical Touch
M | marriage: Would they want to get married? if you were to get married, who would take your last name? What would the marriage be like?
She is 100 percent on board with marriage. Margaret has dreamed about a big wedding since she was a little girl, so she has high hopes for her wedding day. Although she would love to take your last name, if you want to take hers, that would be okay with her. As long as you both love each other, she is okay.
N | nicknames: would they use nicknames on you? Do they like it when you use nicknames for them?
It would be a blushing mess, but she was so happy. I could see her calling you French nicknames in private and public in a deep relationship.
O | open: how long does it take for them to open up to you for the first time?
A while? Well, not with the whole truth because of circumstances, but she does open up faster than the other ROs.
P | pda: thoughts on public displays of affection?
She is very much into G-rated public displays of affection, like holding your hand or giving you little pecks on the cheeks and lips, but she is very shy with more "raunchy" actions.
Q | Quality time: what do they like to do when they’re with you? How affectionate are they behind closed doors?
Baking. Margaret loves baking, even if she is not the best at it, but she would love to bake or cook with you; making something together makes her go all fuzzy inside. Margaret is very affectionate behind closed doors and will often just hug you for no reason.
R | romance: How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?
I think Margaret is very much a cliche romantic, living in a period where wooing someone was very important in courting. Giving you flowers or breakfast in bed. However, she is a nervous wreck, and I could see her being very awkward, but her heart is in the right place.
S | sad: how would they cheer you up when you’re sad?
Margaret would just try to distract you with small gifts that mean something to her and you to try and lift your spirits.
T | thrill: would they do any new things to spice up your relationship?
Margaret is way too shy, so you would have to make the first move for anything more than vanilla, but she is willing to try in a deep relationship. Margaret is more comfortable with a certain routine that you two will share, making her feel safe and warm.
U | unwind :How do they like to unwind and relieve stress when with you?
Gardening. Margaret loves all her plant babies; something about watching them grow into beautiful blooms makes her feel relaxed. Sharing that with you will make her heart soar.
V | vaunt: What are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?
Margaret is not proud of a lot of things that her family has done in the past and doesn't feel that she deserves praise, but she can't help but blush when people compliment her baking, plants, and healing abilities.
W | wild card: random relationship headcanon!
Her favorite thing to do with you is Netflix and Cuddle, even buying all these soft blankets, which ends up with guys making a pillow fort one night and watching whatever you both could think of.
X | exes: How would they handle situations with your exes? What are they like with their exes?
Margaret doesn't have any exes, so she is quite new to how to handle them. My poor baby wouldn't know what to do if she met your ex; she would try to be nice to them and hide her jealous and insecure nature. Margaret is just standing there awkwardly when you are talking to them, watching you both as she nervously fidgeted.
Y | yearn: How will they cope when you’re away? What are they like when they reunite with you after being gone for so long?
Not very well. Once she is in love, she feels like she can't live without you. Margaret would try to distract herself with anything she could think of until she was with you again. And when she finally had you back in her arms, you would have to pry her out because she was going to hug you like a koala.
Z | zzz: What do they like about sleeping with you? What are some habits they have?
She doesn't have any habits besides wanting to cuddle. Little spoon all the way!
#MIS-RO:Margaret#Happy Birthday Margaret#interactive fiction#twine interactive fiction#margaret#my inner sins
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can you do little reader mommy billie
Where r can't seem to drop for a while.
but she gets in an argument with billie family and it makes her drop
Last straw
Mommy!billie eilish x little!fem!reader
Warnings: age regression, hurt/comfort, arguing
“I just don’t see why you are always clingy towards Billie! She’s almost done with the album and you constantly have to be near her! It’s messing her up!” Finneas argued with you. Billie left to go to a interview and finneas asked why you have been attached to Billie for a few days now and this arguement sparked.
“I really don’t see how that’s any of your business fin…” you say quietly as you look down embarrassedly. “It is my business when you are distracting Billie and possibly mess up her album we’ve been working so hard on!” Finneas shouts and you whimper as you curl up into a ball and start shaking. Finneas frowns and curses himself as he realized what he just did.
“Shit shit shit…” he scrambled around the room trying to find his phone so he could call his sister. He found his phone and immediately called Billie. “Hey.” Billie said through the phone and he freaked out telling her what had just happened. Billie felt her blood boil at her brother but pushed those feelings aside and told him that she would be there as soon as she could.
Twenty minutes later Billie came barging into the studio and found you still on the floor curled into a ball whimpering. “Oh babygirl…it’s okay I’m right here…” she said as she drops to her knees and tried to gently pull your hands away from your face. “There’s my pretty baby…” she said as she gives you a reassuring smile. Fin just stands there awkwardly and Billie moves her head to the door to signal that he needs to get out and he did.
“It’s okay…mommy’s got you precious one…” billie said softly next to your ear as she picks you up and sits you on her lap facing her. You sniffle and look up at her with a sad expression which causes her heart to break. “Fin s-said I too clingy…” you mumbled out but she heard you and cooed at you. “I know baby. What he said wasn’t true and I will talk to him about that later but right now I just want to focus on you.” She said with a smile.
You nodded and snuggled into her more but tense up. “Hey what’s wrong honey…?” Billie questioned you and you snap out of it. “I-im sorry…I don’t know what im doing…you don’t have time to be my caregiver right now im so sorry billie..” you sputtered out and went to get off of her but her hands went around your waist and made you sit back down on her lap. “Hey. Don’t ever apologize for being in your headspace. You know I love when I can take care of you. You never ever bother me okay? I absolutely love taking care of you, it keeps me grounded and it distracts me from my work.” She explains and you nod in understanding.
“So if you want to drop into your headspace you absolutely can princess, I know you haven’t for a while.” She said and you felt yourself slowly start to slip into your headspace again. You nod and stuff your face into her breast to which she giggles at. She knows how much you love her boobs so she doesn’t mind when you do this, not one bit. She holds you in her arms and starts rocking you back and forth to sleep. She’s definitely beating Finneas ass after this.
A/n: thank you for the request anon and I hope you enjoy it and I hope everyone else did too. Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all! :)
#mommy!billie eilish#mommy!billie eilish x little!reader#mommy!billie eilish x reader#caregiver!billie eilish#billie eilish x you#billie eilish x y/n#billie elish icons#billie eilish x fem!reader#billie eilish fanfiction#billie eilish x reader#billie eilish
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thinking about staying up past my bed time cause i don't have to be up early the next morning and my dad is coming home really late from work like usual. im in the living room laying on my stomach on the floor playing a game. our dog gets up to greet him at the door and dad comes around the corner taking off his shoes and coat.
"What are you doing up, bunny?" he comes over to me and grabs my feet that are kicked back in the air and he shakes them a little smiling down at me.
"im just playing a game ill probably be dead soon," i quickly turn back and smile up at him before returning my focus "could i maybe stay up a little bit longer?"
"Sure bunny" he smacks the soles of me feet and leaves to the kitchen. I keep playing my game and dad comes back out later with a drink and wearing his pajamas. he threw a pair of pajamas on my back "get your pj's on after this game we're gonna watch a movie" I wanted to keep playing but i felt bad saying anything so i listened and got up to go to the bathroom nearby and change. i bring my clothes to the laundry room and see dad's dirty clothes are there too so i decided to start a load. he must have heard me because i hear him clear his throat and turn around to see him leaning against the doorway drink still in hand. "Dad's tired little lady what's taking so long?" he walks closer to me smiling and i giggle telling him im just doing this quickly. he keeps walking closer to me which i didn't think much of until i could smell how strong his drink was. or maybe him...was he that drunk already?
he stops within an inch of me so close i can hear him breathing. his body hovers over mine and i try to keep myself collected but im getting nervous.
"I think you need new pj's bunny" he says leaning a little closer to me. "what?" i giggle again wondering what he means when suddenly i feel cold splash down the front of my shorts and down my leg. i stumble back into the washer letting out a little gasp looking up at my dad he's smiling at me and mumbles out a half assed "sorry." he looks at the cup in his hand and back at me before gulping the rest and tossing the glass. i shiver hearing it shatter against the concrete. i just keep looking down and fiddling with my shorts when my dad comes face to face with me
"Let me get that for you doll." he pressed his hand firmly against my stomach pinning me against the machine. i try to wiggle away confused and annoyed when my dad gets down and drags his tongue from my knee where his drink was dripping all the way up my thigh and over my shorts
"Dad what the fuck!" i put my hands on his head and push him away while he chuckles and lets me go. i hit my arm against his chest when he stands back so he knows im frustrated and his smile fades as i stand there pouting at him squeezing my legs together and hugging my arms against my chest. he softly smiles at me and offers a genuine apology and pats my back leading me out of the laundry room. he brings me to the couch and stands in front of it telling me not to move. when he comes back he has a new pair of pj's and my favorite stuffed bear. i smile immediately and reach my arms out to grab everything. i started to leave for the bathroom but dad tsk's at me making me turn around. he points his finger to where he told me to stand still and i walk back to wait. he sits on the couch in front of me for a while just looking at me in silence. he rubs his chin with is hand and leans back into the couch spreading his legs making me look down at my feet.
"What are you waiting for?" he asks me. i look back up at him confused and look back at the bathroom and down to my clothes.
He chuckles, "no sweetheart right here. start with the top"
I look back at him with wide eyes unsure if my father actually just told me to strip in front of him or not. He sits there waiting as my mouth starts to open but i can't think of anything to say.
"Do you need daddy to help?" He stands up and comes to me tucking my hair behind my ear and resting his hand on my shoulder. i was so confused and felt so vulnerable he was so big and so sweet but so mean i don't know he was confusing me i couldn't think at all. i realize his fingers are pinching my top's strap and they slowly start to pull it down while he stares at my face, his other hand gripping my other shoulder tightly holding me in place. "Awww little baby what's wrong? Can't think for daddy?" i cant help but whine and i feel my eyes tear up as he talks to me like this. "Up, up!" he taps my elbows and grabs my hands holding them above my head trying to lift my shift off. this snaps me back to it. i pull my arms down and step back from him and turn around telling him to stop this is weird. he quickly rushes behind me and pulls me back forcibly holding me against him. "Dad, stop!" I protest with him as my feet kick around and his big hands grab me all over trying to hold me against him. "Shhhhhh" he reaches one hand up to my throat and grips it. i freeze and don't say anything more while my dad's hand squeezes my throat and his other is wrapped around my waist gripping my hip.
"Are you gonna be a good girl baby? Please?" he lets go of my neck and i breathe in deep before he covers my mouth with that hand making it hard to breathe once again.
"I don't want to hurt you but i need this right now please be good for me" my heart starts beating faster as my dad tugs at my shorts with one hand. im getting so hot i feel like i could pass out i try begging against my father's hand as he pushed my shorts to my knees and grumbles against me smelling my hair and reaching that hand up to my tits groping me through my shirt. he teases my nipple with his finger making me whine and try to turn away. he pinches my nipple hard through my shirt making me scream against his hand before he roughly grabs at my tits breathing heavier against my ear grabbing me so hard i feel his finger prints will bruise me.
"I made such a sexy little girl. Nice fucking tits sweetie" he uncovers my mouth a little and pushes my chin up so he can put his mouth against my neck. he starts sucking on my skin and i feel his teeth grazing into me and his tongue flicking my neck. im crying and gasping from how he's holding me. his hand smacks my tits a couple of times before it reaches down and he lightly traces a finger over my glistening pussy lips.
"oh fuuck" he leans against my neck loosening his grip on me and lets out a deep sigh before placing his finger a little deeper between my pussy lips and sliding up. i go completely weak in my father's arms while he switches from digging his finger between my lips and sucking the juices off of it himself. he sounded like an animal in my ear lapping up every drop until eventually he reached down and touched me bringing his finger to my face and started rubbing my juices over my lips. i kept my mouth shut and whined against trying to turn away but he bit my neck again making my mouth open to cry out and then he shoved two fingers inside and pushed them back against my tongue making me gag and my eyes swell.
"Gooooood girl!!" he praises me as his fingers curl and rub around inside my mouth. he does this for a minute until drool and spit starts pooling in the back of my throat and im gurgling choking for air and he drags some spit out mumbling "fuck" as my head tilts down and i cough and try to catch my breath. my dad is holding my arms behind my back with one hand and im leaned forward gasping wanting to get away. i hear this sloshing wet sound behind me and once i can breathe again i look back and my eyes go wide and immediately start sobbing. different variations of "please, stop, dont" leave my mouth as my dad holds me tightly and i have to watch him jerking his fat cock off with my spit. he lines the head of his dick up with my pussy and i cry out please again hoping he will listen to me. he turns us both toward the couch and all he says is
"Walk" as he pushes me forward making me go because i don't want it to push inside of me. he leads me to the couch like this and bends me over. he places my hands against the wall and tells me to stay still. im still crying begging him saying please daddy over and over. his hands rub the sides of my body and then over to my tits again. he pops them out the sides of my top making me so exposed and he jiggles them watching them bounce. i stop crying as much and feel my face burning red when my dad kisses the back of my head and then wraps his arm around neck and plunges his cock all the way inside me. he sits there for a minute after he let out a sound ive never heard before. he switched between whimpering and grunting while i could feel his cock twitching inside of me. i stopped crying i couldn't do anything but sit there and let my dad use me and be good like he asked. my dad took his hands and placed them over mine holding himself over me like that for what felt like forever. im sure he could feel me trembling beneath him as he nuzzled into my neck "I'm sorry" he apologized again and then took his right hand and placed it between my legs. he pulled his cock almost all the way out before placing his finger on my clit and rubbing while he sunk his cock back inside me. i moaned out at how much he was stretching me out if felt like i was burning. he slowly kept thrusting into me while rubbing my clit and groaning into my neck. my breathing changed and my body started to feel tingly everywhere and i couldn't help but moan and wriggle while my dad rhythmically forced himself inside of me. his groans of pleasure made me feel so special i started to get so fuzzy and just want to make my dad feel good and happy. He started groaning louder and more often and he stopped rubbing my clit grabbing my hips with both hands. he relentlessly pounded into me while my mouth hung open and drool slipped off my tongue.
"Beg me to cum inside of you"
his words brought me back and i started to remember how i didn't want any of this... did i? my body was shamelessly wet for him why?!
"Say 'cum in my pussy dad' be a good girl ughhh"
"Dad!" i cry out shocked at what he's telling me panting from how roughly he's still fucking me. his cock is so hard inside of me it hurts from how deep he's hitting maybe i should just beg so this will stop!
"Hurry up bunny, fucking beg me please!"
i felt my little pussy clenching around my dad's cock and my mind went dumb again and all i wanted was to make him happy
"P-please cum in my pussy dad! im sorry ill be good daddy please cu-" i tried to beg him again but my body started convulsing and every thought left my head while my dad raped me and made me cum on his cock too stupid to understand what's happening.
"Thaaaat's right, fuck that's my tight little daughter!" my dad fucked me through my orgasm making me shake and still somehow he kept forcing his cock deep inside of me until he told me he was sorry he's been waiting so long to do this
"Here's it comes baby, oh fuck, oh fuck im gonna cum!" he grips my hips so tightly as his balls are pressed against me unloading rope after rope of sperm through his cock into my tight hot little pussy. His head is thrown back as he relishes the feeling of breeding his daughter for the first time. he's masturbated to the thought of this for years and now finally he's balls deep inside of her tiny cunt and he'll never have enough of her.
#k!nk#cnc k!nk#r@pe fantasy#d@d#r@pe kink#daddy k!nk#r@pe me#r@petoy#breeding k1nk#r4p3 kink#r4p3 m3#r4p3 fantasy#rough cnc#1cky thoughts#1cky daddy#tw r4p3#cnc story
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