#you should be glad it hasn't been murder!!!
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would it be a sin if i stayed?
pairing: ghostface!sam carpenter x fem!reader
summary: you find out your girlfriend is hiding something from you
words: 3.120k
warnings: mentions of murders, gf!sam, knife, scream shenanigans, stab wounds, treating wounds, fear of cheating(?), swearing, bad writing
authors note: so it's been a minute huh, excuse the rusty writing i've been in pain and in a writers block
Everyone's entitled to their own secrets; there's nobody in the world that doesn't have at least one secret.
Some people have small secrets such as not liking a certain food but saying they like to please the other person. Others don't have such sweet secrets.
The darkest secret you have is the fact you slit your ex's tire once after she cheated on you, it's not insanely dark or even cool, it's simply just a secret that you don't want people to know about.
Yet there's people in your life that hold such darker secrets, ones that could never be revealed to anyone; not even their most loyal loved ones.
Unbeknownst to you that person is Sam Carpenter, your girlfriend of over a year.
—————
Me (17:29pm): i'll get started on dinner soon then?
Sammy<3 (17:32pm): Yes please. Hopefully I'll be done soon with my shift and can hopefully even help you a bit with the cooking! 👩🍳😊
Me (17:33pm): maybe i'll postpone for a bit then
Sammy<3 (17:33pm): No, start cooking. You need to eat and Derek is a bastard who won't let me off early anyways 😂😂
Me (17:34pm): fineeeee
Me (17:34pm): see you soon then, love you <33
Sammy<3 (17:36pm): I love you too, Y/n ❤️
Me (18:12pm): i finished making dinnerrrr:))
Me (18:22pm): sammmm
Me (18:29pm): sam?
Me (18:31pm): please answer me sam, where tf are you?? ik you finish your shift at six
Me (19:06pm): Sam this isn't funny, please answer my calls.
You bite your bottom lip nervously as you reread over the messages hoping to see that small bubble pop up any second.
Sure traffic was a reasonable reason to why Sam's late but she'd always message you after finishing her shift at work.
Sam's one of those people who never leaves the house without her phone being higher than 80%, meaning her phone being dead wouldn't explain it. She always made sure it had more than enough battery in case Tara or you called her and there was an emergency
So why the fuck isn't Sam answering your texts? You can't help but worry after everything that's happened to the poor woman and her family with Ghostface.
You've already tried calling her three times to no avail. Nervously you switch over to Tara's contact as your thumb hovers over the call button, debating whether you should ask her if she's seen Sam or not.
If Tara hasn't seen her and Sam is in fact just running incredibly late then you're just going to worry the younger Carpenter for no reason.
"Fuck." You mumbled to yourself as you lowered your thumb to dial Tara, deciding it's worth the risk.
Just as you're about to press down you hear the doorknob to your front door jangle, immediately you whip your head around to see Sam entering calmly.
You drop your phone and rush over to her throwing your arms around her desperately as you cling to her.
Sam doesn't say anything as she slowly raises her hand to your back, rubbing it up and down slowly.
"Where were you, Sam? I thought something had happened." You say worriedly as you pull away staring into your eyes intently, noticing a glimmer in her eyes that you have never seen before.
Her eyes looked darker, almost a lustful look in them.
She sighed as she smiled apologetically. "Some girl puked all over the place so I had to clean it up so I wasn't done till six thirty, then my phone died so I couldn't text you."
You ponder for a second on the possibility of Sam's phone actually being dead since the messages and calls went through, meaning it would be impossible for her phone to be dead.
Biting your tongue you nod as you smile at Sam, just relieved to have her here.
"Okay, glad you're safe then. I've made a plate for you so you just need to reheat it." Sam grins as she presses a quick kiss to your cheek making your ear burn just as they did the very first time they kissed you.
"You're the best." She says and you chuckle giving a weak smirk. "I know right, the best girlfriend."
Sam pulls away from you as well, finally giving you a proper look of her. You tilt your head confused as you notice the baggy black hoodie she's wearing, practically devouring her and hiding her arms and upper body.
"You didn't leave wearing that this morning." You comment mindlessly as you grab the end of the sleeve, rolling your fingers around the soft texture.
Sam stiffens as she roughly pulls her arm away from your grip, crossing her arms over her chest. You frown at her abruptness.
"It was in the trunk of my car." Sam replies dismissively with a wave of her hand before turning to enter your room.
You remain where you stand a little frown toying on your lips. What was that about? You thought as you glanced at the doorway to your bedroom, the light being flickered on by Sam.
"I'm just gonna take a shower real quick then I can eat dinner and we can watch some movies?" You hear Sam yell from your room also hearing the erratic movement from her as you walk closer.
Leaning on the doorway you see Sam placing her phone, car keys and work badge on the dresser.
"Want me to reheat your food for you?" You suggest with a smile. Sam nodded her head as she turned to face you, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead this time as she whispered, "I love you so much." before passing you and locking herself in the bathroom.
A few moments later you hear the loud sound of the shower water hitting the bottom of the tub before it gets muffled by Sam entering the shower.
Against your better judgement you glance back into the room where Sam's phone is kept, the desperate urge to check it gnawing at you.
You didn't want to snoop through it, no, you just wanted to see if she was lying or not. Which you basically already knew she was.
You glance back at the bathroom door before rushing into the room to look at Sam's phone.
Reaching the drawer you picked up her phone and to your horror the movement of you picking it up lights the screen up.
Sam's phone wasn't dead.
She lied to you.
Sam wouldn't cheat on you, right? No, Sam would never. She loves you too much for that.
Right?
Shaking your head in hopes of getting rid of those thoughts you place Sam's phone back into its original position, staring at it before leaving the room to reheat Sam's plate of food.
You trust Sam with your life and more and don't believe she's cheating on you since she's already quite possessive and protective of you after Ghostface.
After placing the plate into the microwave you move back into the living room, dropping down onto the couch with a sigh as you wrap your fingers around the TV remote, pressing the on button.
The TV started up and immediately you were introduced to the loud male voice of the news reporter. You pulled out your phone and didn't pay much attention till you heard him utter a line that made your blood run cold.
"-two male victims stabbed to death near Parker Street, the police have no lead suspects as of now but a CCTV footage has been leaked showing the brutal murder and the killer wearing the infamous Ghostface costume."
Your eyes widened as you slowly lowered your phone, pushing yourself up the couch as you straightened your posture.
Ghostface is back? It doesn't help that Parker street, that's the street where the bar Sam works at is at.
"Sam!" You yelled and panicked as your eyes remained focused on the screen.
You could hear the shower stopping before moments later the door the bathroom being thrown opened and Sam rushes into the living room soaking wet with a towel wrapped around her body.
"What's wrong?" Your girlfriend asked as she moved to your side, holding your face with a possessive grip as she turned it to the side to see if you were hurt.
You shake your head making her let go and nod towards the TV, Sam takes your hint and turns to focus on the screen.
She's silent for a moment, her breathing eerily calm as her eyes meet with yours.
"Ghostface is gone, we don't have to worry." She says as her hand glides into yours.
Your brows furrowed in confusion as this is a total 180 reaction to how she reacted last time when Tara's classmate was murdered, and it wasn't even confirmed it was Ghostface at that time.
"Sam, the person was literally wearing a Ghostface outfit and two people were murdered on the same block where you work! This cannot be a coincidence." You rush out as you look down at your phone where it lay on the couch. "We have to call Tara, Mindy and Chad. I'm not letting you all go through this again." You say as you grab your phone but you're stopped by Sam's hand wrapping around your wrist.
Looking up at her confused you see a blank expression on her face, not a panicked look you expected to see.
"This is not our Ghostface, Y/n, calm down, please." Sam replies, moving her hand to interlock with yours with a tight grip.
Your jaw slackens as the crease between your brows gets even bigger.
"A dude in a Ghostface outfit killed two people near where you work, Sam!" You insist on trying to make Sam notice how dire this situation is.
She shakes her head as she shuffles a bit closer, the droplets falling off of her and a few dropping onto you.
"My Ghostface doesn't do random public killing, this is very out of character. It's probably just some psycho who's using it as a disguise, Y/n. It's fine. I'm safe, Tara's safe, the twins are safe and you're safe." You're speechless at Sam's smooth words, never hearing her so calm and confident.
Last year she threatened to move countries instantly when it wasn't even confirmed it was about them.
You let out a humourless chuckle as you shake your head. "And what did Mindy say when Tara was acting like you right now last year? It's a bit too close to home."
Sam shakes her own head as she flashes a smile that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. "You trust me, don't you?"
You let out a barely audible scoff as you nod your head at the question as if it was a stupid question to ask.
"With my life and more Sam." Sam's smile softens as she nods her head gently, as if knowing what you were going to say.
"So trust me on this, my love." She whispers, raising her wet hand to lay on your cheek lovingly. "Please." She adds in a whisper as her thumb runs up and down your cheek slowly.
You maintain eye contact with Sam as you begin to feel yourself getting lost in her dark brown eyes, unconsciously nodding your head slowly.
Sighing you snap out of your trance as you smile weakly at her, squeezing your interlocked hands.
"I trust you."
—————
A few days have passed and the only person other than you who's showing concern over the murders is surprisingly Tara. The girl who was very adamant last year that this almost exact scenario wasn't related to them in any way.
You've been texting her non stop about your worries about the entire situation but you haven't said anything about your concerns about Sam.
She lied to you, sure it was something very niche but with the timing of the murders; something just felt off.
You have also noticed that Sam has been even more loving lately, not that she isn't always wonderful to you, but it's more than usual.
You love the attention but you still can't help but feel that there's something wrong.
It's a Saturday night and Sam's working the night shift again, you're not doing anything special so you decided to sleep in early.
It's around two in the morning when you get awakened by a slam of the door, it immediately sprung you out of sleep since you've always been a light sleeper since the entire Ghostface incident.
You rub your eyes as you slowly sit up, glancing around the room and notice Sam isn't in bed.
Concern runs through your veins immediately as you push yourself off the bed to stand up, your feet hurting the cold floor as you move towards the door. Is it a complete dumb move to investigate the random loud noise? Yes, absolutely. But you can't help but think it's most likely Sam and maybe she's having another one of her attacks.
"Sam?" You yell out softly as you open the door and glance around your small apartment, squinting your eyes to see better in the dark.
There's no sign of Sam but then you notice the light peeking through the bottom of the bathroom door. You definitely didn't leave the bathroom light on.
You head towards the bathroom door and go to open it but it's locked, you frown as your concern grows.
"Sam? Are you there?" You ask as you keep trying to unlock the door but to no use.
A muffled grunt is heard through the door before you hear Sam's raspy voice.
"Go back to bed, Y/n, I'll join you soon." Sam's muffled voice says as another low grunt is heard. That doesn't help your nerves at all.
You can feel your heart pick up a pace as you desperately keep trying to unlock the door.
"Open the door, Sam, please." You beg as you keep trying to open the door, shaking the doorknobs desperately.
"No." Sam says sternly, making you shake your head at her stubbornness. "Sam if you don't unlock this door I swear I'll kick it down. Please open the door."
"No I-" Sam goes silent for a moment before continuing her words. "You can't see me like this, you'll leave me."
"Sam I love you more than anything in this world, if you're hurt I want to see you and help you. Please." You say sincerely as you still your moments on trying to open the door, trying to show Sam how much you care for her.
She doesn't say anything for what feels like an eternity, your fear growing with each passing second as you swallow nervously.
Then you hear it, the door unlocking but Sam doesn't open it for you. Immediately you throw the door open and scan your eyes to find Sam sitting on the edge of the bathtub wearing her usual grey tank top, tight black cargos and thick black boots with bruises and a singular stab wound on her arms.
Your breath hitches as your eyes widen dramatically, your fear about Ghostface attacking Sam again being confirmed.
Sam refuses to make eye contact with you as she sloppily tries to patch herself up, wrapping a bandage around below her shoulder that's already staining with a ruby red shade.
"Let me help." You whisper as you move to stand in front of her knowing in the frenzied state Sam is in she wouldn't tend her wounds properly.
She finally looks up at you and you notice the look of pure fear in her eyes, it breaks your heart.
Sam stiffly nods her head as she lets go of the dirty bandage and lets it fall gracefully onto the floor.
You don't take notice of anything else around you as your entire focus is only on your bleeding girlfriend.
As you focus on the slash below her shoulder you see that she's sterilised it and only needs help with bandaging it up.
You grab a new roll and gently hold onto her elbow for a grip as you begin to tightly wrap the bandage around her wound.
As you keep wrapping enough layers around your eye's unconsciously flicker over to the bathtub, and the moment you see the objects scattered inside you feel your heart drop.
A bloodied knife is peeking out through a thick pile of black which almost looks like a blanket but that isn't what catches your attention. The bloodied Ghostface mask thrown carelessly near what you presume is the cloak is what makes your heart come back to life and rapidly speeds up.
Suddenly everything makes sense.
The lie about her phone being dead when it wasn't, coming home late and the very calm reaction to the murders.
Sam wasn't attacked by the Ghostface on the news; Sam is Ghostface.
You can pull your eyes away from the hollow eyes of the Ghostface mask as you keep bandaging Sam's stab wound up, the feeling of shame making your throat tighten.
Not ashamed of Sam but the fact you don't immediately want to run away. Call the cops or even scream. Instead you stand there as you treated her wound.
"That's enough layers, Y/n." Sam's quiet voice breaks you out of your stare as you avert your eyes back to hers, stilling your hands as you lock with her brown eyes.
Oh those big brown eyes.
Grief swirls around in her eyes as if she's already grieving your relationship; grieving her life.
You take a deep breath as a shaky smile slowly forms on your lips making Sam's eyebrows scrunched together confused.
"I'll never stop loving you." You whisper to her as you finish bandaging her wound up, dropping your hand from her elbow to place on her cheek.
Sam leans into your touch laying her own cold hand over yours, looking up at you with a softer gleam in her eyes.
"I'm not a bad person, I only hurt bad people I promise." Sam whispers in a gravelly voice. You feel some reassurance from that but what shocks you the most is the fact you're not sure if you wouldn't have minded if they were bad or not.
Would it be a sin if you stayed with her? Probably. But killing is most definitely a bigger sin which only makes you think of one thing.
You and her will still be together in the afterlife.
"Let's go to bed, my love." You whisper as you offer Sam your free hand to take to help stand up.
Sam stares at it for a moment before she complies and slides her hand into your hand, a small smile grazing her lips.
Everyone has their secrets and who are you to share them with?
—————
authors note: i'd do anything for sam (i hate this so fucking much)
#sam carpenter#sam carpenter x fem!reader#sam carpenter x y/n#sam carpenter x you#sam carpenter x female reader#sam carpenter x reader#melissa barrera x reader#scream six#sam carpenter angst#gf!sam carpenter#my fanfic stuff#my writing
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THE DEVILS' TRIANGLE
A Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick (& now John Constantine) Imagine Part 8 by:
@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch and @tammykelly (with honorary dream weavers / shit stirrers @lilspookymeh & @kurai-hono-blog 😘)
Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, dubcon, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘
ALL CHAPTERS
PART 8
Johnwickb1tsch:
"Come on, we've got to get you somewhere safe," says John Wick, trying to hustle you down the street.
"No," you protest, resisting. "We have to find John and Tex. They might need us."
You were skeptical about demons and the occult, God and the Devil and everything in between, at first. But after hanging out with Constantine, you'd seen a few things. Just enough that you had sense enough to be scared. You clutch the protection amulet around your neck that John had given you. You'd laughed at him at the time, but now you were glad to have it.
"They're both grown men, honey. I told Tex to leave you alone. This is what he gets."
Suddenly you're angry all over again. "Oh, you told him, huh?" You push John's chest--its like having a disagreement with a brick wall. "Do you have any fucking idea how much I've missed you? How it destroyed me to be thrown away like an old shirt you had no more use for?"
He is still as a mountain as he holds your wrists, preventing you from striking him, but not hurting you. Those dark eyes bore into you, through you. How does he not see you? "Y/n...I did what I thought was best for you."
"But you didn't fucking ask me! Or at least, you didn't listen! But you know what, it doesn't matter right now. John had to put some kind of a curse on Tex in self defense, because Tex is such an asshole, and now they're both in danger!"
"A what?"
You pause to think, and you're pretty sure you know where Constantine would go. There's an old church a few blocks over. Consecrated ground. It's where he's always told you to go if something came after you. It would be a good place to regroup.
"Come on," you say, pulling John in the opposite direction down the street.
For once, he actually listens, a shadow at your back ready to protect you, but he lets you lead the way.
--------------
The old building looks like it should probably be condemned. It's definitely seen better days, and hasn't seen a congregation in at least a decade. However, the ground is still holy, untouchable for the Unclean, and when you burst through the doors after John has already shot down three demons, you are so relieved to see Constantine and Tex sitting in some of the old pews. They definitely look like they've been through a battle, disheveled and beat up. You wonder how much was demons, and how much they did to each other.
"Thank God!" You run to them, and Tex's expression rises and falls as you go to Constantine, pressing your mouth to his in what you know is a needy kiss, assuring yourself as much as him.
He smirks down at you, well aware of the death- stares he's receiving from both sides. It's possible he makes a show of grabbing your ass, just to rub it in to your two Ghosts.
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah. You?"
You nod. Then Constantine rolls his eyes upward, over your head to John Wick. He is quietly forbidding in his black suit, standing watch by the door. "That your other Ghost?"
With a tired sigh you nod.
"Ghosts? The fuck is Harry Potter here talkin' about?"
The urge to punch Tex or kiss him is strong as ever.
"The two of you ghosted me, didn't you?"
"Baby girl, I missed you. That's why I came to get you." He shoots a telling glare over at John Wick, who only returns a disinterested look. Maybe the master assassin had been keeping tabs on you, but he hadn't shared everything with Tex, it seems.
Constantine looks between the two assassins, then you, with an infuriating smirk.
"What?" you demand, more than a little exasperated with everthing.
"Nothing. Just seems like you have a type, angel."
You can't even argue.
"Angel?" Tex snorts at your pet name. "Does he even know you?"
"Does he ever shut up?" asks Constantine, raising one dark eyebrow.
"No, never," you sigh.
There is a howl outside that lifts every hair on your body, an unearthly sound that makes your fingers grip in Constantine's suit jacket.
"What are we going to do?"
"Good question." Constantine tugs you over to a different pew, sitting down with his arm draped around your shoulders. His message is obvious, and it's new to you. Constantine rocks your world on the nightly, but he's never been possessive before. It really shouldn't, but it ignites a warmth in your chest that makes you feel ridiculously, stupidly, giddy inside.
"Seems like we're at an impasse, gentlemen."
Tex frowns. John seems less than impressed.
"Sorry, what's stopping us from killing you and taking her?"
You tense, watching the gun John holds loosely at his side. You know Wick can move like lightning, and your heart leaps into your throat. You are ready to fling yourself between them if you have to.
"John..."
"It's ok, sweetheart. He's not going to kill me."
"No offense, but I've heard that before from lots of people who are dead now."
Constantine snorts. "You can't kill me, because I've put a curse on your friend here, and you need me to lift it."
"So lift it."
"Can't. Got a friend who can though. You'll never see him without me."
You know Constantine must be talking about the famed and powerful bokor, Papa Midnite. A chill runs down your spine. You've met him precisely once. He was polite--and hot as fuck, if you're being honest--but you knew he was not to be trifled with.
"So let's go, then," says Tex, his patience lost about three dead demons ago.
"Hold up, Howdy Doody. We got to talk first."
"Bout?"
Constantine nods down at you. "Maybe I don't know all the details, but I've heard enough. And as much as I've enjoyed filling the hole you assholes left--I can't let you hurt her again. I'll let the demons feast on your souls first."
Almost on cue, that demonic howling sounds again outside, and a chorus of hellish hissing rises. It sounds like you are surrounded.
Tex leaps to his feet. "You smug little fucker--"
"Shut up, Tex." It's Wick who shushes his friend. "What do you propose?"
Finally, Constantine looks down at you. "It depends on what she wants."
Your mouth drops open at that. You have to decide that, now? As though he can read your thoughts, and sometimes you're convinced he can, Constantine pays you an infuriating smirk.
"I...don't want them dead. Or...devoured."
"That's a start, I guess. Do you ever want to be with them again?"
Your eyes go wide as saucers. The simple answer, of course, is yes. You love them. You miss them.
However, answers are never so simple, with your Boys involved. Like an idiot, you dare to look at them, taking in Tex's hang-dog puppy-eyed look, and John's quiet but intense yearning. Then, of course, there is the man beside you, who despite his aloofness and his prickly manner, has been nothing but good to you.
You've never said it out loud, but the truth is, you love him too.
"I don't know."
"Yeah. I figured." He smirks at you, inexplicably smug, and you kind of want to smack him too.
Which always leads to interesting things, with John Constantine, your stupid lady parts sing out. Jesus Christ on a cracker, what a fucking mess.
"You got a point, Gandalf?" demands Tex, paying a nervous look to one of the cracked stained glass windows. Ominous dark shapes are flying past outside. This is not good.
"I want you assholes to accept a Spell of Submission to her."
"The fuck does that mean?" demands Tex with a thunderous frown. John remains neutral as he listens.
"It means, if you ever try to make her do something she really doesn't want to do, again, she can say the magic words to fuck up your world. Pardner."
"No fuckin' way," Tex scoffs.
At the same time, John answers, "I'll do it."
Your eyes meet across the aisle of the church. That he would take such a leap of faith-- for you-- drops the floor out from under you.
Tex, of course, interrupts your moment of soul- searching eye contact with John.
"Wait, so we could be havin' an argument and she can drop me dead with the evil eye or somethin'?"
Constantine snorts. "It would probably serve you right, Hee Haw, but no. Cause you extreme pain? Yes. But it comes at a price. All magic does. I know she wouldn't use it lightly."
It would potentially even the playing field quite a bit between you three. The balance of power amongst you had never been fair.
"What's a matter, Tex? You don't trust me?"
"Only as far a I could throw you, darlin'." But his hawk-like look softens for you after a moment, and then surprisingly he grins. "Got me over a barrel now, don't you?"
You shift a little in your seat, so that you're flush against Constantine. The solid line of his lithe warmth beside you is anchoring. You glance up at him, finding he looks arrogantly amused-- and surprisingly, a little sad. If you didn't know him so well you would have missed it, like ripples in a pool.
You turn back to Tex, an uneasy excitement thrumming in your chest.
"If the curse fits?"
The cowboy sighs, frowning at the hellspawn waiting to rend his flesh and eat his soul outside. "Alright, fine. Guess you might as well take it all." He can't look at you while he says it, but you sense his surrender-- or at least, his resignation. It's not exactly a victory, but it's something, and it pulls at your heartstrings.
"Alright, wizard boy. Hoodoo me up."
Constantine snorts, leaping up from the bench. "First we've got to get out of here. You're going to want to cover your eyes." He starts muttering an encantation and walking in a circle, sprinkling a powder on the ground from his pocket. "When this goes off we'll have ten minutes. Either of you assholes have a car nearby?"
"Yeah."
"Great. Hope you like to drive fast."
His chanting gets louder, and you see he's produced a lighter. He never uses it for cigarettes anymore, but portable fire to a magician has its uses. You can tell he's reaching the crescendo of his spell, and you scrunch your eyes closed. Even through your eyelids you see the flash, and the boom of a magical fireball that should have burned you all to dust.
However, only the things outside incinerate, their agonized cries echoing through the cavernous stone building.
"Let's move."
****
As it turns out, John Wick can drive very fast.
You already knew this, of course. Constantine, however, seems to be regretting his life choices as Wick weaves in and out of traffic, trying to find a hand hold as you are whipped around in the cramped back seat of the vintage Chevelle. He clenches his square jaw and glares daggers as Wick makes a quick left juke, the force of it pushing Constantine into the side of the car furthest from you.
You think it's a coincidence, until you meet John Wick's eyes in the rear-view mirror, and you see a glimmer of amusement. On anyone else, it would be all-out gut-busting laughter. You open your mouth to tell him to play nice, but Tex interrupts you—just like old times.
"3 o'clock," barks the cowboy assassin from the shotgun seat. It's fitting, because he quite literally has a sawed-off shotgun in his lap, something from Constantine's cabinet of goodies with arcane symbols scratched into the barrel. Tex and Constantine fought over this seat like it was worth a million dollars, and only the interruption of the literal Hell’s Angels roaring up on you on motorcycles re-focused their attention.
They’ve been trying to run you down for blocks like wolves on a caribou, and with a whip of Wick's wrist on the steering wheel, now you’re being pursued by one less. It over-corrects and crashes into a concrete barrier. Constantine laughs under his breath at the thing’s demise.
However, there are still three more to contend with.
“The club is just ahead,” directs Constantine. “Good luck finding parking.”
“Hold on.”
There's nothing to fucking hold on to in the bare bones back seat—except for Constantine, so that's what you do. He holds your hand with a white knuckled grip that betrays his nerves far more than his expression does
John tricks the motorcycle-riding demons by suddenly slowing down, then gunning the engine, running one over with a sudden burst of speed, then smacking the other two like a pinball flipper with a sudden shift and drift turn.
The car is totally fucked, but so are the hellspawn, so it feels like a win.
When one of them tries to stagger from the wreckage towards you Tex shoots it from out the window. The sound is deafening—and the ball of fire from the barrel of the gun makes you all jump.
“What the fuck is that, John?” you demand.
“Dragon's breath,” he answers you with a little smirk. “Nice work, Hee Haw. You should hunt demons instead of people.”
“What's the pay?”
“Absolute shit with possible stock options in Heaven.”
“No thank you then.”
The four of you pile out of the car and hustle towards the doors of Midnite's.
“This place is supposed to be neutral ground,” says Constantine, “but it's going to be full of demonic half-breeds, so walk fast and stick close.”
Tex turns to you with an incredulous frown. “Baby, I seriously gotta question your taste. Where did you find this wizard boy?”
Constantine looks at you with a smirk, no doubt thinking about your first animalistic tryst in that alleyway by the bar, and how he’d made you cum on his dick with your back chaffed by the hard bricks behind you, your legs wrapped desperately around his slender waist while he pounded inside your needy little cunt.
It had been glorious.
Just the memory of it floods you with a searing heat from your loins to regrettably, your cheeks.
Constantine loves it when he manages to make you blush, and a wicked gleam sparkles in his jetty dark irises.
“Shall I tell him, dear?”
You can tell that Tex’s head is about to explode.
“Not while he’s holding a fire-breathing shotgun, honey.”
Constantine has never really used lovey pet names with you before. It’s almost the weirdest thing that’s happened today.
As you push through the doors of the club it’s almost like entering another dimension, the red lights and bass thump of hedonistic music beyond, the steps down down down like a descent into a nether realm. The bouncer holds up his tarot card, the entrance exam, that Constantine passes like a breeze. “Rat in a dress.”
Bouncer turns to Wick and Tex with a new card, who look at Constantine with almost comical consternation. “They’re with me.”
“Still gotta pass.”
A beat later Constantine punches the burly bouncer out, shaking the sting off his hand. “Sorry,” he says to the unconscious man on the ground. To the rest of you, “Shit. Move fast.”
He bursts through the doors to the main club, striding with purpose on those beautiful long legs. You always feel too cool for school, when you’re on a magical side-quest with John. His broad shoulders part the crowd around you all, and when you’re with Constantine, everyone is looking at you. Half-breed angels, demons, and who knows what in between. Their eyes glow eerily in the low crimson light of the club.
Neither Wick nor Tex betray any fear or surprise at descending into this eldritch side of the City of Angels, intimidating towers at your back, glowering at anyone who looks your way.
Maybe it’s stupid, but in this moment you feel pretty fucking invincible.
It’s definitely stupid, because the creatures on Team Lucifer start to take an acute interest in Tex, their eyes glowing. Even you can feel them pressing closer around you. Constantine is standing at the tufted leather wall, what you know is an illusion hiding a door.
A tall, unfairly hot half-breed saunters into Tex’s personal space, reaching up to touch his cheek with a sultry come-hither smile. Succubus, is your guess, though the possibilities are literally endless. For a moment Tex seems utterly entranced, and it’s all you can do not to roll your eyes. “Sorry, he’s taken,” you say, pulling Tex back with your fingers in his tooled belt to sandwich him between you and Constantine.
Are they going to open the door for you or what? Any time now would be excellent…
Suddenly the half-breed seems a foot taller, looming over you with glowing red eyes. With your heart in your throat you hold up your amulet between you, and though she doesn’t exactly flinch and hiss like you’d hoped, you can tell she doesn’t care for it, her fine features twisting in a sneer like she tasted something nasty.
“Fine,” pouts the demoness. “Change your mind, handsome, you know where to find me.” She punctuates the offer with a flash of razor-sharp teeth before she saunters off with extra swing in her hips.
Tex makes a small sound of pain behind you as he watches her go, and you know he can’t help it. Desire is the Succubus’s power, and she was clearly hunting tonight. It doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes though, turning to catch John Wick’s gaze. You can tell he’s keeping watch on the room, but he’s also got his eyes on you; that weighty, yearning look that never fails to tie your heart—and your lady parts—up in knots. A wholly inconvenient throb of lust between your legs makes you shift where you stand; suddenly you are soaked, so aware of the solid warmth of Tex at your back, and John towering before you.
Just like old times.
A part of you wants to reach for him, location be damned, an ingrained urge that would be a terrible idea at this time in this place, because if you touch him you’ll have to kiss him and who knows where that will end.
Jesus, was the succubus’s energy affecting you too? Or is it just…them?
There is a heady weight in the air, like something malevolent is about to descend upon you all. With your heart in your throat you clutch at the talisman around your neck, and though you’re not really sure which deity you’re entreating for salvation, you pray.
At last the door swings open, and Constantine finds your elbow, tugging you none too gently with him inside Papa Midnite’s inner sanctum. Naturally, where you go, the boys follow close behind.
“John Constantine,” says Papa Midnite in his melodic baritone. “Been some time. I see you’ve brought friends.”
“Wouldn’t go that far,” snarks Constantine with a baleful look at the two assassins at your back. “But I need your help.”
“The Great John Constantine needs my help?” mocks Papa. “Must be sometin’ bad.”
You’re not proud of the panic that rises in your throat at the sound of Midnite’s reluctance to help you. You know that pretty much everyone in the supernatural world has been pissed off at Constantine for some reason or another, but you pray this man can rise above his grudge. If not…Tex is fucked, and maybe it’s stupid after everything he did to you, but just the thought leaves a hollow ringing inside your heart.
You dare to peek around from Constantine’s imposing form. “Please, Papa?” you entreat, your eyes wide. You have met once before, and on that occasion the powerful witch doctor seemed to like you, though he didn’t cease to deride what a girl like you could possibly be doing with the likes of John Constantine. “We really need your help.”
Papa Midnite tilts his fedora-topped head to regard you with curiosity. He is wearing one of his delightfully loud shirts with a fur collared jacket. A gold necklace gleams against the dark skin of his throat. “Who needs my help, little girl? You, or him?” He points at Constantine with the jut of his chin.
“I do,” you both answer at the same time. You realize Constantine doesn’t want you to owe the powerful Bokor a favor—but you’re reading the room, and you’re pretty sure if the magic is for Constantine, Midnite is going to tell you all to pound rocks.
Midnite, understanding all of this, sits back in his throne of a chair with a little chuckle, drumming gold-bedecked fingers on the carved wooden arm.
“What is it you need?”
“A curse lifted,” answers Constantine. “And a spell cast.”
Midnite whistles at hearing that, and only then does his attention turn to the assassin at your back. “I can sense the dark mark from here,” says the witch doctor. “Let me see.”
With a grumble Tex pulls at his collar, pearl snap buttons popping to reveal the blackened circular pentacle, its 8 radii tipped with symbols, embedded beneath his skin. At the sight of it Midnite smirks, his eyebrows lifting high.
“Set thou a wicked one to be ruler over him, and let Satan stand at his right hand,” cites Midnite. “That a powerful curse t’set on someone, Constantine.”
“It was a heat of the moment thing,” grumbles the demon hunter.
“I can tell. Takes some big feeling, to conjure a curse like dis from thin air.”
That’s when Midnite looks at you, and that stupid blush of heat ambushes you again.
Feelings were not something you and John Constantine talked about. Sure, they were there, but you never really gave voice to them. You demonstrated them, physically, and often. Midnite seems bent on embarrassing both of you.
“Yeah, yeah,” grouses Constantine, only daring to glance in your direction. But in that single moment, the raw look on his face makes you feel like you need to sit down. “So can you lift it or not?”
“Course I can,” says Midnite dismissively. “What you bring me in return?”
“’Fraid I’ll have to owe you.”
“Hmm. I’ve heard that one too many times from the likes of you, Constantine. I’ll need somethin’ up front.”
“Do you like gold?” asks John Wick blandly, producing five glittering yellow coins from his pocket, setting them on the table in front of Papa Midnite in a neat stack one by one. The pretty tink tink tink of metal fills the air, and Midnite nods with his lips pursed, paying Wick an approving look. However, as he examines the death’s head emblazoned token, it is you he speaks to.
“How did a nice girl like you get tangled up wit Underworld boys like dis?”
A shuddering sigh escapes you, as a montage of the absolute fire you walked through to get to this moment flashes in your mind. The murder, the kidnapping, the chaos and corruption. The passion, the pleasure, and the quieter moments that made you think you might be content to stay with your Boys forever—until they forced you to go.
“It’s a long story, Papa,” you answer, barely able to raise your voice over a whisper.
“Some other time, you’ll tell me, then. Step into my office.”
Midnite leads you to his back room, a cavernous space built in the breathtakingly ornate style of the Moorish palaces of Andalusia. At first you don’t know where to look. The arabesque carved walls, the scalloped arches, the honeycomb vaulted ceilings, or the cacophony of antique relics stacked high on all sides. There are statues and busts and boxes and dolls, this and that and bric-a-brac and every category of precious old junk you can imagine, is here. Your eye is drawn to an old wooden chair against the far wall with leather straps that for some reason gives you chills.
The center of the room is empty, the demarked circle where Midnite performs his workings outlined with bones, half-burnt candles, and rusty lines on the tiles that look like blood.
“Now then,” says Midnite, taking a sip from a bottle of dark rum before offering it to Tex. “Drink up, man. Dis not gonna feel good.”
***
When all is said and done, the four of you all feel like pieces of chewed up gum. You are utterly wiped, and it’s all you can do not to fall asleep in the back of the car with your head on Constantine’s shoulder. Fingering your new tattoo, a mystical symbol that binds Tex Johnson and John Wick to your will, you think on what Papa Midnite said to you before your departure.
“Hard to live with a heart divided in three pieces, girl. You playin’ a dangerous game.”
“It’s not a game to me, Midnite. It’s just…my life, somehow.”
“Dat fair. So you know, I told that silly boy of yours to put a ring on your finger ‘fore he lost the chance. Never seen him like dis, wit any other.”
You’d paid him a grim smile, amused at the thought of Constantine asking you to be his wife. What a laughable prospect. Sweet, but there was no way he felt that about you. “Are you telling me not to break your friend’s heart, Midnite?”
He’d snorted and taken a drink of rum. “I know better than that. But you might tink about what he’ll turn into, if tings go badly.”
Truth be told, you didn’t want to think on that, because it terrified you. All you wanted right now, was to curl up in the bed you shared with John Constantine, and sleep for about seven years.
Midnight had given you a herbal potion that had to be administered to Tex every six hours for a week, and a magical salve to apply to the burn upon his chest where the symbol had, at one point, burst into white-hot flame. You’d feared he’d been at death’s door, until he took your hand with a smirk and mumbled half to you, half to himself, “The things I do for my little rattlesnake.” It had squeezed your heart with a fist, utterly wrecked you, and you knew you couldn’t kick him to the curb just yet.
You were headed back to Constantine’s house, (which you had helped him get together the down payment for, with no strings attached, so…) and the four of you would have to figure out how to co-exist, at least until Tex was back on his feet.
Then…who the fuck knew what was going to happen.
You’d think about that, tomorrow.
Tammykelly:
- a flashback -
Sleep long forfeited to yet another night full of vigorous dance that is the celebration of passion and ever growing connection and affection between two souls who’d found one another amidst chaos that unfailingly enters one’s life book when it flips through the pages onto the next chapter. Gradually, chaos learns the code of order, tamed by the new rules and beginnings, sought after by you and Constantine in an unhasty pace.
You feel the blossom of his soft lips on yours for a while, before you pull away to take a long look at him, running your fingers along his sweaty forehead and through his slightly damp hair. He feels his chest tighten at the way your gaze moves across his tilted up face and lingers on his eyes, entering beyond the physical and reaching for subliminal.
“Hi”, - Constantine croaks, his arms draped around your waist, steadying you, as your heated bodies stay impossibly close.
“Hey, baby”, - you breathe out, your touch leaves traces on his skin in feather-like movements, making his heart flutter.
“You call me that like it means something”, - he wonders out loud.
It must be true, that the eyes are the windows to the soul, for when he says that, you feel the heat of your body grow stronger when his irises light up with an inexplicably warm spark that transforms into the taste of him on your ever waiting lips, while your hips drag out the sensually slow pace. You try to find the perfect rhythm again, having felt yourself folding under the intensity with which your heart blooms and expands every time his dark eyes capture yours.
“I…uh…I’m….”, - you blurt out, the right words stuck at the edge of the said sacred dilation.
Maybe it is love. Love that sprouts across the silver lining that is the tenuous punchline between sanity and deliberate madness of passion. Constantine’s body reacts to yours before his mind has to think about it, as he gently tugs you closer. He doesn’t let you finish, his lips connecting to yours, catching your love on his tongue in a long deliciously flavorful kiss.
He touches your bullet scar, his jawline playing, his eyes darkening.
“They’re gonna pay for what they did to you”, - he quietly tells you again, voice filled with determination that invites more ephemeral warmth into your chest.
“They already did”, - you reply, reminiscence of their absence dissipating into the background of your subconscious when your tongue slides along Constantine’s jaw, tasting tiny droplets of sweat.
“They gotta pick someone their size, yeah?”
His reply makes you smile: “Please, we’ve talked about this, baby”, you feel goosebumps arise at the back of his neck at the nickname, no matter how nonchalant he wants to appear each time you call him a random pet name.
“You care about them? Even after everything they’ve done to you?” - his raspy voice is low but the tone sets a prelude to a gradually boiling point.
“They’re the best I’ve ever had”, he leans back and quirks his eyebrow at your tease, “after you, of course”, you add, smirking.
He lets out a sigh of frustration: “Jesus, it’s like talking to a fucking brick wall”, you feel his fingers dig deeper into your soft skin. You lean closer, your breath over his mouth.
“Calling God’s name when you’re balls deep in me?” your voice akin to a purr, “what a profanity”, a smirk curls up.
“Mhhmm, funny thing is He made this happen”, Constantine’s tone matches your game.
“And is Jesus present in the room with us?” your head tilts.
“Oh, you think it’s funny?” he bucks his hips up.
“You literally just said it is”, an involuntary moan escapes your mouth, lost in the grunt of the man underneath you, when you match his cheat code with a harsh movement of your own.
“It’s an expression”.
“Okay and?”
“Watch your mouth”, - Constantine’s eyes transform into a pair of two burning coals, sending shivers across your whole body, accompanied by the way his fingertips trace down your spine.
You can barely make a sound due to his manipulations: “Can’t read minds, baby”, making it his turn to shudder.
“What, don’t have any better ideas?” he recuperates, the warmth of his arms leave you, as he places his hands behind him on the bed to support his weight. You don’t wait to connect your mouth to his, your teeth sinking into his lower lip before you lightly tug at it and let go. A cocky grin instantaneously leaves his handsome face when he feels your tongue crash into his mouth, which he reciprocates with twice as much force and eagerness, his arms lock back around your waist, and he notices a triumphant smile display itself on your features.
“An angel risen from ashes picked up by the devil reborn”, you answer his question, teasing the idea of which one’s which when you first met. Him - a cancer free phoenix-like angel of death, or you - a devilishly sweet temptress, who, unbeknownst to herself, exchanged two deadly ghosts for the black cat of a man, stuck in between both realms.
You continue: “He always had a rotten sense of humour. And His punch lines are killers”, Constantine’s gaze darkens at the mention of your ghosts.
“Ha-ha, very funny”, his tone less than amused.
“Oh, you find this funny now?” you bite his neck, which makes a deep husky groan erupt from his throat.
“Don’t tell me you believe this fate bullshit”, you say, as you fight the urge to speed up your pace to chase the way his sultry sounds bounce around your insides.
His low growl nearly shatters your self control when he tells you: “Fate or not, you’re mine now. Mine”, you feel his teeth sink into your skin, “you hear me?”, his gaze when he looks up akin to the explosion of a sleeping volcano underneath an already blazing ocean, edging you onto the border of a slippery slope that is the point of no return once you process the 3 magic words that are glued to your tongue.
Instead two short words roll off, as a soft moan:“Yes, baby”.
“Gonna give you everything you want”, you feel his hands roam all over your body, “all of me”.
You lean back.
“All of you?”- your expression flickers with darkness, showing him your devilish desire, as his silent gaze shaves off the outer layers down to your core.
“You son of a bitch”, you breathe out, smiling, after a brief pause, for your racing heartbeat shifts to a contracting and pulsating firework, overtaking all of your senses. You study his handsome face, drinking in all the details you’ve grown so attached to, florescence of affection tugging your lips upwards in a gentle smile.
Constantine’s eyes set the fire in the pit of your belly ablaze on the scale that you’re sure will be the death of you some day, for being with him is like Heaven on Earth and being apart now seems like a cruel tool of a ghostly destruction.
His playful grin pulls you back in: “Calling me a son of a bitch when I got you on my dick? You’re brave, kitten”.
“That’s exactly why I can call you that. You’re my son of a bitch”, you grab his hair and give it a nice pull before you lean down to lick up his neck, placing a gentle kiss right under his ear, feeling him twitch inside you, “and Devil’s right hand, yeah?”
“More like his puppet”, Constantine grunts, as you look down at him, sensing him barely able to maintain the slow[ish] pace you’ve set, holding onto the last threads of self-restraint.
“So, no rewards for that, I suppose?”, you tease further, testing the limits of the mind games he’s been playing with you all day long.
“Afraid not, angel”.
“Let me be the one to send you to Heaven then”, you whisper right against his ear and kiss his temple.
All the blurry lines of will power come tumbling down, when the sound of him sucking air through his teeth enters your inner space, as Constantine’s hand finds its place between your jawline and neck.
Gradually, you encourage his index and middle fingers between your lips, his irises unable to focus anywhere else but the way you take them in, his whole body akin to a molten liquid metal, his fingers melting on your tongue. You giddily lick them, your tongue swirling around them, playing with his digits like lollipop toys, until you let go and take care of the saliva under Constantine’s furnace of a carnally hungry gaze.
You feel your hips stuttering against the increasing pace, when you hear his raspy voice: “Fuck, kitten, you feel like Heaven”, the energy between your bodies and feverish kisses multiplying in increasingly all consuming vehement abundance that can crack the earth open.
“Touché”.
A half smile coats his lips at your cute quip.
“Watch”, you tell him, his eyes shifting to the mirror somewhere behind you.
The heat of his hips rolling against yours at the speed that finds you both panting and sweaty messes is more than enough for him to tip over the edge but as his eyes take in the scene of your power over him, his body proceeds to come apart under you when your fingers wrap around his throat and apply pressure, slightly tipping his face up.
“Open”, you say, your thumb glazing over his soft lips, and he raises an eyebrow, “don’t you wanna cum, baby?”, you sweetly inquire.
“Fuck”, his voice is barely audible, Constantine’s eyes glimmer under your watchful lust, the darkness in the depth of the bottomless abyss that is him transcending what has become of his power over you. His eyelids flutter slightly, as your spit falls on his tongue.
“Swallow”, you reward him with a particularly harsh snap of your hips, seeing his Adam’s apple bobble.
“You’re gonna pay for that”, he growls.
“You’re a drama queen, you know that?”, you point out, leaving a love-bite mark on his collarbone, knowing damn well at the way he’s twitching inside you, he won’t be lasting long. You smirk, as you slow down the pace to a damn near full stop, eliciting a low and deep whine from him.
What the fuck, his eyes show you, roaming over your face hungrily.
“Tell me how much you want me”, you purr, feeling his fingers next to your scalp, tugging you closer.
“Fuck, angel, wanna feel you so bad”, an angelically evil smile plays on your face at his response, “need you on biblical level”, he finishes, the butterflies inside you catching aflame, their fiery wings spreading across every fibre of your being.
Constantine feels like he might go insane without you, your whole existence being the lone salvation he’s been seeking his entire life. He twitches again.
“Say that again”, your sultry tone pervades his mind, the pace picking up just a tiny bit.
“Need you to move, right now”, he begs.
You look at him expectantly.
“I can’t control myself any longer. Please, fuck me”, he looks up into your eyes that have turned into blazingly bright gates to the oblivion that is his path to purgatory. His gaze diverts back to the mirror and your goddess-like form against his.
“God, you’re sexy when you beg”, you whisper, Constantine can practically hear the cocky smirk in your voice, as a loud moan erupts from his throat, while he watches himself get ruined by everything that is you.
“I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel”, you exhale, listening to the way your name exits his lips akin to a gust of wind, blowing across an infinite ocean.
“Cheeky little girl”, he barely replies between the chain-smoke of moans.
“Fuck you”, you breathe out.
“Say no more”, he chuckles, his lips and teeth leaving bruises all over your sensitive chest, his hips meeting yours at an increasingly high speed.
“Fuck me harder”, he growls, his lips soliciting moans from yours.
“What a good girl”, he purrs and smiles against your neck, feeling your speed folding, as you attempt to gain the upper hand.
“My beautiful angel”, Constantine praises, kissing down the valley of your breasts, enjoying every single breathless moan that you leave for him to treasure, “you’re doing so well”, he continues, “I love it when you fuck me like this”, his lips graze yours before another storm of a kiss unfolds itself.
“Oh, yeah?”
“So good, I need you to fuck me like this every day”, his teeth tug your lower lip and let go, his open-mouth kiss then imprinting a picture of his love for you on your tongue.
“Need this pussy for breakfast, lunch and fucking dinner”, - a husky growl of his makes your insides deliciously twist.
“Say less”, you giggle after the kiss breaks apart, only for a yet another wave of kissing, biting, hair pulling and power play, resembling a balanced match, surpass the two of you.
You feel as if the sun that is the man, obeying your all desires, is scorching you with a strong nurturing vitality, meeting you halfway anytime you slip.
The sun, sometimes deadly, shining its light on you and sharing the experience of birth of the stars with you, until all you and Constantine know is that you can’t tell where one begins and the other ends.
“Cum for me, baby”, you whisper, your eyes hazily gazing into his.
“Fuck”, he moans into your mouth, as you and him become one in an endless explosion of lustful starlight.
You both take a moment to steady your breathing, the pulses of your bodies streaming along the lines of your silhouettes akin to the red string of fate. Suddenly, you feel yourself getting lifted and plopped on the bed, the heavy weight hovers above you.
“My turn”, Constantine growls, worshipping you and your body in a form of myriad of kisses, adoring your skin.
“I’m not finished with you”, you chuckle, pulling his face to yours.
“Wanna ride your pretty face so badly”, you breathe out shakily, watching his pupils dilate, turning his dark chocolate eyes into jet-black colour of the night outside your windows.
He kisses you deeply before teasing: “Should’ve said sooner, princess”, and flips you.
Before you know it, his lips are connected to your nether ones, placing sweet kisses on God’s bewitching and intricate creation.
“Oh, fuck!”, a scream leaves your mouth, as you lose control over your limbs when Constantine demonstrates his vicious payback for all of your previous manipulations, the delirious temptation to play him exiting your body like it was never there.
The way his tongue devours you till the last drop like a man starved, you assume you’re not the only one losing yourself to this trick of devilish pleasure, pulling you deeper into the whirlpool that keeps expanding wave by wave until it comes thundering through your body like a tsunami, then crashing onto a shore over and over, the sound of your screams mixing with the magnitude of Constantine’s sonic savouring of your most precious parts till his immeasurable hunger for all divinity that is you is satiated beyond your limits.
Songs for the delulu meal:
The best I ever had by Limi
Obsessed by Zandros ft. Limi
Dangerous woman Call out my name mix
Treedaddymcpuffpuff:
You don’t know if it’s some kind of magic, or if you’re just this petty. But, damn, that succubus did piss you off. Even worse than her, with her silky black hair and sweet milk skin and inviting, rosy eyes and cheeks.. You catch yourself mid thought, determined to pluck her from your brain.
Yes, even worse than that half breed bitch - Jesus, who are you? - was watching Tex suffer and bleed. Blue lips forming around a silent scream; a beg for the ritual to stop. Tan, supple skin turned ashen gray and tented. Dark eyes blown milky and wild with terror.
There’s another memory you have to get rid of somehow: Tex dying a slow, grueling death in some hellish, accelerated time loop. In front of you. Powerless you.
You have his take home medications clutched tightly to your torso as the Johns lug him inside, one under each arm, his feet stumbling and dragging so much that Wick decides to just pick him up.
Why in the world did that make you so delighted? To see John Wick carrying Tex Johnson bridal style across Constantine’s threshold?
Your smile wipes clean, though, when you realize that Tex has not made a witty quip or even grinned at this show of brotherhood. John deposits him on the couch, and you sit on the floor beside, holding his hand. Your stomach lodges into your chest when you feel how cold he is. Your human heater turned ice box.
“Tex,” you say softly, brushing the untamed thicket of hair from his eyes.
He keeps his eyes closed, but that fond little tick of his mouth lets you know he hears you loud and clear.
You swallow your pride. “I missed you, too.”
You hope to God he’ll harass you for saying that, later.
For now, a grunt will suffice.
This man has put you through hell, but fuck, if he hasn’t been heaven all the way through it. You had really thought he was dying back there, and it…. put things into perspective.
Wick is in the kitchen dwarfing the tiny dining table with Constantine. Not talking, not even looking at one another. Some kind of tension exists between them, but at least it’s not the awkward or homicidal kind… well, at least as far as you can tell.
You grab some cold bourbon from the fridge, pour 3 glasses, and dish them out. Then, you hop up on the counter and join this sinewy silence game.
Wick breaks the skin, twin eyes meeting Constantine’s. “Thank you,” he says.
Constantine grins tightly. “Consider it repayment.”
“For?”
Oh, here we fucking go.
Constantine, the bastard prodigy of Lucifer himself - or, he might as well be - doesn’t answer, instead nudging his chin and shoulder toward you, as if you’re some prize Wick handed to him on a silver platter.
Now, you don’t really know what to expect from John. Fiercely protective, aloof John. But it’s definitely not a grin. A fucking grin. Yeah, he really has gone totally batshit. Terrifying.
Constantine looks stumped, and so do you.
“I’m gonna get going,” Wick says, standing and draping his jacket around his arms. You get a strong wiff of delicious leather and diesel and gunpowder.
“You’re leaving?” This comes out of your mouth before you can stop it.
“Yeah.”
“What about Tex?”
“I’ll be near.”
No use fronting now.
“What if something happens? What if we need you -“
Constantine cuts off your increasingly frantic voice. “I think you should stay.”
It’s Wick’s turn to look stumped. He raises a dark eyebrow. Constantine rewords.
“Please. Stay. We may need you.” Constantine looks over at you, giving that you owe me leer.
Your nerves settle when Wick puts his jacket back on the rack and slips his shoes off, looking at you all the while.
John Wick sleeps in the little broom closet turned guest room, and you and Constantine retire to your bedroom. This place is purely a you sanctuary, with incense burners and tapestries and little trinkets you’ve collected from your travels. It’s a souvenir from your limited therapy sessions, and a much needed safe space.
Before you can shut the bedroom door, you hear John’s monotone voice turn doting. It reminds you of being soothed through an orgasm, him cradling you when you cried - the hum that disarms and breaks you.
You go to him, peaking inside the narrow door that he had to duck to get through. Killy is rubbing against Wick’s torso, purring, headbutting, her tiny fluffy body practically vibrating from the attention of his big hand.
He smiles at you. “Who’s this?”
“Oh, meet Baby Killy. She’s so shy usually.”
“Pretty kitty,” John coos, scratching behind her ears as she chirps for him.
Great, you’re jealous of a cat. Which is stupid because you have a whole other man in the next room that can’t keep his hands off you. You’re selfish, you realize.
“Sorry it’s not comfortable,” you tell Wick, looking at his calves hanging off the tiny mattress. “I can buy an air mattress.”
He twirls Killy’s tail softly around his finger. “It’s fine, y/n. Get some rest.”
“Yeah. Night John.” You leave him, pretending it’s not reluctantly.
Constantine is already in his boxers, cigarette nipped between his teeth. You pluck it from him and take a long drag. “Thought we were supposed to be quitting?” Blowing smoke over his lips.
He tugs you down into the bed with him. “I’ve had a long day.”
“Aw, poor thing.” You kiss his jaw, shimmying the white stick back into his mouth.
Your lips trail feather light down his quivering throat, nose pausing, nuzzling against his quickening pulse. A shy, involuntary smile slides into his collarbone divot. Your magic man shivers under you, makes you feel like you can kick God’s ass if it really comes down to it.
He gently fists your hair in his fingers while you suck the hard day off his skin, hand trailing south on his tight twitching tummy, lazily perusing in search of a swelling, sensitive, beautiful cock trapped in cloth.
He smushes the half cigarette out in your little pearlescent ashtray, tips your face up, kisses you soft. Kisses you like you like you’re some being of fleeting, fragile light and hope. “Hey.”
“Hey.” You grin against his mouth, using that familiar formal, ironic greeting that he favors when you’re both wading knee deep into eachother’s personal space already.
You pull away to look down at his tenting boxers, but your eyes snag something on the way. A big, fresh bruise to his opposite collar - wide and diffuse as if from a large hand. It’s normal for Constantine to have bruises, and he did fight demons today. But this mark? Fresh. Just blooming. Plus, the only one on his long, expansive body.
Your mind thinks back to the kitchen, how they were both so quiet. Looking far too innocent. You feel stupid for not expecting this.
“Did John hit you?” You’ve gotten really good at talking before thinking. Just one of many Constantine mannerisms you’ve picked up along the journey of knowing him.
“We talked.”
You go to get up. No plan in mind except hurting Wick. Really hurting him. Either with words or a quicker fist than he can catch. Probably the latter, since John excels at catching fists, but you still think you can slice him just as much with a few well placed sentences. Of course, you could also try out this nifty new spell of submission..
Constantine holds you in place. “I started it.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” You see him wince at the sinister growl in your voice, and your spiked fur smooths a little bit if only for his benefit. “He’s a fucking asshole. He thinks he can just bully people into submission. Let’s see how he likes it.” You’re talking loud enough that you hope Wick can hear it. You know he’s not scared… because it’s John Wick, but, you at least hope he knows you’re coming for his throat.
“Angel.” Constantine’s long, careful fingers cup your face. “It’s alright. Not tonight. Let you kick his ass tomorrow, okay? Right now, I need you with me. Hey, look at me…. There you are. You hearing me?”
You lean into his touch and kiss his wrist. “Yeah, okay.”
“C’mon.” He pats his chest and you lay your head on it. “Now, where were we..”
You give a little chuckle. “In the pit of despair?”
He gathers your hair and pulls it off your shoulder, tickles his fingers over your neck. “I think…” he murmurs.
“Yeah?” It thrills and scares you a little bit that this man can make such a breathy, desperate mess of you from just a tiny touch.
“Think you should put on some pajamas and let me read to you.”
Suddenly, your anger runs dry, replaced by excitement. He laughs at your hopeful, mystified expression.
“You’re gonna read to me?”
“Yeah, yeah. Better hurry before I change my mind.”
You love it when Constantine reads to you, always mesmerized by that smooth, baritone voice, and it’s not often that he’s up for it.
You don’t bother going into the bathroom to get dressed, which you can tell he appreciates. You can also tell that he loves the fact that you bypass your own clothes entirely and instead throw on one of his big flannels.
You cuddle beside him, wrap your arms around his waist and tuck in for your after dark entertainment.
“Hey, hey, Angel.” It takes you a minute to open your eyes. Constantine assists this process with a pleasant rub between your shoulder blades and a hushed voice.
“Huh?” Your voice is groggy, far away, brain still swimming in twilight.
Constantine gives you a patient stretch of time to wake and groan and wipe the spare drool from your chin. The blue dawn outside tells you that it’s early - way too early. You don’t remember falling asleep, and it must have been a glorious one judging by your wicked bed head and sore voice.
“What? What’s going on?”
“Clint Eastwood won’t let James Bond give him his medicine. He says he wants you to do it.”
“Are you serious?” You ask.
Constantine opens his mouth, then shuts it again. He sighs. “Yeah.”
“What the fuck,” you mumble.
Tex, eyes open, sitting up, cat on his lap, looks at you like you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread. Big, appreciative grin. You can’t be annoyed for too long when you see that he has color back in his face.
“Hello, nurse.”
Damn his infectious grin. “What? John’s not a good enough nurse for you?”
“He’s alright. Not very cute, though.” He sizes you up as you roll your eyes and snort.
He gives you a little wink. “See you still hate wearin your own clothes.”
You look down at yourself - at the big cozy button flannel that falls mid thigh with nothing else on under or over it. You really didn’t even think about how exposed you were when you got up and came out here. But, now, you’re flushing and shifting on your feet.
“Oh, don’t get shy on me now, rattlesnake. I’ve had all of it in my mouth anyway, yeah?”
Sinful reels flit through your memories. And, fuck you, but even that makes you so wet you can feel it in the crease of your thighs already.
The reality hits you that this could be a thing, somehow: Johnson and the Johns with you pressed between. You short circuit thinking about it for a solid twenty seconds.
Tex chuckles, pets Killy. “Your momma’s too easy,” he tells her, and the traitor purrs and merrs and pushes into his doting palm as if in agreement.
Great, two treasonous pussy’s in this house.
Plus, you’re about ninety nine percent sure Constantine will do more than curse them if he sees their hands on you in any carnal way. Even though this thing between the two of you is unestablished and unlabeled, your magic man is more than a little possessive.
You remember, fondly, the time he pissed you off, so you went on a date with a nice young gentleman who also happened to be a cop - Johnny, you think his name was. Jesus fuck, you really do have issues - and Constantine blew every fuse in that restaurant with a spell. In the pitch black, no one saw him come pick you right up and carry you out. That night started with “fuck you, Constantine” and ended with “no no agh fuck please m’ sorryjohnsosorry.”
Wick’s nowhere to be found, which you don’t really mind. If you see him again, you might just try kicking him in the dick. You mix Tex’s medicines in the kitchen, heating up the thick herbal soup in a little pot. It smells bad, kinda like fish, draws Killy’s attention really quick.
She brushes against your legs and reminds you that she’s hungry and that oh, that smells good, mom.
You scoop her out a cup of kitty kibble while the stove simmers, then give her a few pets. It’s not often that she’s so doting on you - she prefers Constantine and solidarity over your company. But, she must know something’s up - either that or it’s the fishy concoction steaming up your little kitchen.
Tex winces when you rub the salve into his burn. It looks awful - dry and necrotic, little charred skin flakes sticking to your fingertips.
You scrub them off on a towel, grimacing. “Does this hurt?”
“Numb,” he shrugs. Reaches out to tuck hair behind your ear. Your body reacts violently and insistently. Constantine’s touch, pleasant and warm and diffuse; that’s what you’re used to. You forgot about Tex’s sharp edges, the scary thrill of him. Like the first drop of the roller coaster.
“Tex,” you warn.
“Sorry, darlin. Just so fuckin pretty. Forgot how beautiful you are, is all. How good ya smell. Christ, even with Houdini’s scent all over you.” He pinches your chin in his fingers and makes you look at him, at the sincerity in his blown black pupils and hooded, lustful gaze. “He eatin your pussy right, huh? Need me to show him how to do it?”
“You know,” you say, hating yourself for the thick in your voice, “I have this nifty new spell I can use…”
He chuckles. “Settle down, honeypie, I’m just trying to be nice, is all.”
“Nice.” You glare at him and he lets you go.
The fishy stuff in the mug wipes the grin right off Tex’s face. He chokes and sputters. “Good God, what in hell’s name is this Guacala shit.”
You smile at him and take the empty cup. “Every six hours, cowboy.”
On your way back into the bedroom, he watches you unabashedly. Killy is back on his lap. “You got a shower here, rattlesnake?”
“Bathroom’s down the hall,” you tell him.
“Think I need some help.”
“Uh huh. You can manage.”
“Alright, you got me. I don’t really need help I just wanna fuck the shit outta ya.”
“Sorry, Tex, but that’s-“ you look pointedly at the purring feline in his lap -“the only pussy you’ll be getting in this house.”
You shut your door before you can catch his mumble: “we’ll just see about that.”
Constantine is in his study. You debate going and fucking him on the desk chair, working off this sticky arousal coating your cunt and inner thighs. But, also, you’re still sleepy, and laying down in the bed already has your eyelids fluttering closed and brain going mushy. You struggle between options until your body eventually decides for you.
You wake up to the delicious evocation of salt and fat and heat. John Wick is back. He’s in the kitchen cooking one of those five star breakfasts that are worth letting him live. For now.
Bread pops up from the toaster, startling you. “Hey, that’s been broken.”
“Fixed it,” he says, dexterously flipping his pan. “Got the faucet to work in the bathroom sink. Your drain’s here are built wrong. I’m gonna take a look after I finish breakfast. There’s fresh orange juice and chocolate milk in the fridge. Coffee on the warmer.”
“That’s not my coffee pot.” You eye the expensive looking, silver, sleek appliance with steaming black, delicious smelling brew under.
“I got a new one.”
Are you really surprised at this point? You grab some orange juice from the fridge, and find the once bare shelves stocked and organized with fresh fruits and veggies, eggs and jams, healthy pre-made snack boxes.
The cupboards have also magically filled themselves with canned fruits and veggies, organic breads, high end trail mixes, protein bars.
The place is spotlessly clean. New microwave, an ice maker beside the stove. Real glasses and plates stacked in the cupboards.
Wick has been busy, it seems.
Constantine walks into the kitchen, paying attention to the newspaper in his hand instead of his surroundings until he sees you. “Hey, Angel-“ looks up, takes in the practically brand new kitchen. “What in the fuck.”
#wicked johnson fic#john wick#john wick x reader#john wick x you#john wick fic#john wick x y/n#keanu reeves x reader#yandere john wick#tex johnson#tex johnson x reader#tex johnson x you#yandere tex johnson#constantine x you#john constantine x you#constantine 2005#john constantine x reader#constantine x reader#keanu reeves
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Hello!! Do you have any more Damian and Tim centric fic recs? I need more sibling bonding and/or angst in my life
I'm so glad you asked!!!
by keeptogethernow
The Waynes are on "vacation", the new summer house hasn't been properly secured, and when Damian wakes up to here someone banging on the door downstairs, he quickly finds out that it really sucks to have to pretend to be a normal kid in these situations.
A true classic. I love Home Alone
by the lovely @batshit-birds <3
No one here has the right wing type for the sheer dive it would take to reach Damian before he hits the water like it’s concrete.
No one here except Tim.
-
the Bats learn the hard way not to bring an unfledged vigilante to a midair battle
A very very sweet wingfic!!
by @fleur-de-violette
Most of the time, Tim thought before he acted. But when he saw the guy swinging a hammer at an unsuspecting Robin, he just acted. He didn’t think of the consequences on his arm, or on the WE event he had the next day, for that matter.
something i really like about these fics is that the authors really explore the fact that while Damian and Tim may not necessarily get along, they still love each other and protect each other. i love they <3
In which Damian's dead and Tim has lost one too many people to accept that.
Platonic Orpheus-Eurydice not-AU set after Damian's canonical death
AHHHHH OOHHHHH MY GODDDDDD i love this fic so muchhhh i come back to it whenever I need angst
by @solemnmagpies
“Perhaps you should consider a nap,” Damian replies, with as much sarcasm as he can muster.
For some reason, Damian’s suggestion just makes Tim laugh. Well, sleep deprivation has been known to cause a number of strange side effects, and Tim was never all that normal to begin with.
“Yeah,” he says, eyes flicking back to whatever garbage he is watching. “I’ll do my best.”
-
Tim gets hit by something, and now he can't fall asleep. Damian is not concerned, not even a little bit; he just wants Tim out of the house again, that's all. Honest.
(He is maybe a little concerned.)
There's just something about tim & damian and whump that hits different
by @crows-murder
Tim squints at him, frowning. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
Surely, surely they wouldn’t be dumb enough--
Gates opens the door leading into one of the empty conference rooms and Tim freezes on the spot. Yes, in fact, his little brother is dumb enough to get caught by these idiots. And yes, these idiots are dumb enough to capture fucking Robin.
Tim can feel a tension headache forming.
“What. The fuck,” he says, because he can’t say anything else without breaking character.
He is going to murder Damian.
nothing says "family bonding" like watching ur little brother get tortured by the gang ur undercover investigating
by @whatatime30
Damian helps Tim through a tough time, and Tim ends up helping him a bit too. The rest of the family notices.
Tim & Damian troll their family by practicing healthy psychological habits
#theres one more i’m looking for i’ll post it later but here#fic rec#batfam#batfam fic rec#batfam fanfiction#dc comics#batman#batman fanfiction#batfamily#dc#dcu#shut up somaya#dc universe#tim drake#damian wayne
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LAST TIME ON MMPR: THE RETURN: Twenty years ago the Rangers went through some SHIT that broke up the team and left Kimberly a depressed hot mom. (Oops, spoilers.) So when Trini's niece Selena shows up at her doorstep demanding to become the next Power Ranger, it's the perfect opportunity for her to do some traumadumping.
it's MMPR: The Return #2!
= that's not cranberry and squid juice
= The intentional misdirection of Rita going to get *someone*, and then having her yell for Squatt, is honestly genius
= First of all I love how this book skews darker and more mature but still has elements of classic PR camp like this big villain-ending bomb being called a "Benevolator"
= Second of all I'm glad this book is furthering the implication from the show that Kim does understand Billy's talk perfectly well, it's just that she thinks it's annoying
= [It's Always Sunny jingle] Rita still gets killed
= So according to Matt Hotson in an interview they weren't sure how they were going to get away with this until Nico Leon suggested making the arrow an energy beam, because clear onscreen stabbing is okay as long as there's no blood. All that matters is KIMBERLY GETS TO MURDER!!!!!!!!!!!
= THEY SHOULD HAVE BEEN AT THE CLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUB
= and yes they both knew that Kim was pregnant rather than my prediction that she didn't find out until afterwards, which, surprisingly, makes me want to chew glass even more
= Tomberly hug, Tomberly i love you, Tomberly forehead touch, and Tomberly kiss all in rapid succession on the same page but GOD at what cost
= maybe it's because my emotions are running high throughout this whole issue but why did that little "what...?" make me so emotional kjkjkf i guess imagining Zedd of all people saying something with that kind of vulnerable tone, and it being possibly his last word alive, got to me
= BOOM really said "hey, it's been long enough since the last time Kim had to watch Tommy die in front of her, hasn't it"
= the way the issue keeps pushing the fact that they don't know what the Benevolator would do and they don't know what happened exactly is fueling my delusion of Tommy coming back somehow. idk I refuse to let my White Husband/Pink Wife/Green Daughter concept go!!!!!!!!!!!
= Funnily enough, even though the twist calls into question if Sylvia even has a daughter, this is still more thought given to Trini's opinion on her powers being passed on than Once and Always had lol
= Thrax if he served cunt
= so I'm still going to call her Selena because the moon reference is too good and it's really not THAT weird for her to have a normal-ish name considering her mom's name was literally RITA. we just have to give her a cool alliterative surname. Selena Scandola? Selena Sinistra? idk
= [SITCOM CHEERS AND APPLAUSE]
= so is it too soon to advocate for Tomberly Daughter/RitaZedd Daughter toxic yuri
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🪷 20. what if? (1718 words)
"i know it's been like what? two months? but i'm glad you two made up" hu tao spoke, glancing at ayato and you.
"yeah, it was a torture to watch, and even worse to be around cranky ayato" added kaeya, "anyway, i'm just glad you stopped being a jerk and properly apologized."
ayato softly laughed before hu tao spoke again "yeah but if you do that to my bestie again i'm gonna be the one both murdering you and organizing your funeral."
"noted" said ayato.
glancing around the room, you took a sip of your soda, preparing yourself for the next topic your friend group would dive into - completely not prepared for lumine to speak.
"oh c'mon tao, it's not like he hasn't apologized a million times already. and it's not like y/n isn't partially at fault for the whole thing."
you furrowed your brows, trying to figure out what your roommate meant by that. you were at fault? how? "excuse me?" you muttered, confused.
hu tao cut in at that moment, speaking over you, "honestly lumine, i love you but like? back off. who are you to say who's at fault and who's not?"
"i just spoke my mind" retorted lumine, "why are you picking a fight with me?"
"well, you spoke wrongly. i'm just saying."
"i-"
"ALRIGHT. ladies, calm down, it's all in the past now. besides, it's none of our business, it's y/n and ayato's. so, unless they have something to say, i suggest we drop this already." the tension was broken by kaeya, who then looked at both you and ayato as if he was expecting something.
"it is between us and i think none of you should have a say in it, however close we may be." you finally spoke.
"i agree. and i'll apologize as many times as i need. there's no need to get worked up over it, lum. we're good." ayato said, his eyes landing on lumine who was sitting next to him, and she nodded.
the conversation moved on smoothly after that, props to kaeya and hu tao for dispersing the tension and coming up with things to talk about, the latest one being some movie everyone but you seems to have watched.
you excused yourself to the bathroom, and on your way back you just stopped to stand in the doorway. you were looking at your friends, who haven't noticed your presence yet, quietly observing the room and the atmosphere. you couldn't help but notice how close ayato and lumine seemed like this, from afar, sitting next to each other, laughing and talking. at some particular thing ayato said, lumine laughed loudly, gently slapping his arm in the process, he smiled back at her. you couldn't figure out what was so funny.
this wasn't a novelty – for the past two months since you and ayato patched up your friendship, you've started noticing the little things the two of your friends did that made you wonder.. what if? you started noticing how you always felt like an outsider, even if then never tried to make you feel that way. sometimes you just felt like you were intruding on something you shouldn't be. you didn't let yourself go there completely though, but the thought was always there, in the back of your mind. what if they're falling for each other?
you shook your head, trying to get out of your thoughts, and started making your way back when your phone rang, attracting the attention of everyone in the room. suddenly, four pairs of eyes were on you, watching you, as you looked at the phone in your hand and sighing once you saw the caller.
"um. it's scara. i'm just gonna go to the balcony and talk to him for a bit, see what's up. you guys carry on, i won't be long." you said before making your way out and answering.
"hey." you breathed into the phone
"hi, are you free right now?" scaramouche greeted back.
"um, i'm at ayato's with hu tao, lumine and kaeya, but i can talk for a bit. what's up?"
"oh.. sorry for disturbing you then. i was just wondering if we could study for the upcoming exams together." he said
"you're not disturbing, and i'd love to! we're quite a pair when it comes to studying." you laughed.
he chuckled back, "hahahah yeah, alright then. we'll text about the details then?"
you hummed into the phone, "yeah. uh. scara? could i talk to you for a bit?"
"..of course. what's bothering you?"
"i'm just.. hypothetically, what would you do if the person you had feelings for started catching feelings for your friend and you watched it happen. i mean – you're not sure about them catching feelings, but you have a pretty good hunch, you know what i mean?" you said in one breath, breathing in loudly once you were done.
he paused for a moment before answering, "yes i do know what you mean. is this about lumine and ayato?"
"how did you know..?"
it was his turn to sigh, "i'm not blind y/n, i've noticed them hanging out, and about you.. is that necessary to answer? of course i'd notice you had feelings. are you forgetting we've known each other for basically our entire lives?"
"damn. i tried to hide it tho.. was it that noticeable??"
a small laugh escaping him once again, he answered "hahah, to your close friends, yes. what happened for you to ask this?"
you leaned over the railing, softly humming into the phone "hmm.. it's just a thought i've been having for a while now. actually, i've had it ever since they met. nothing in particular happened, you just should've seen them earlier. a big part of me is screaming that it's obvious they caught feelings.. you know she even defended him earlier? i just.. don't know.." you breathe out, "so what would you do?"
silence envelops you both again while he gathers his thoughts, "..shit. i can't tell you that, y/n. it's on you to decide how to act, and even if i told you what to do you wouldn't listen."
"fair enough but like, what are my options? i'm stuck."
he sighed, "well, you could either confront them or ignore it and try to move on... or tell him about your feelings."
"and have him turn me down? nah, i dont think i could handle that."
"what makes you think he'd turn you down?" he said immediately after, no uncertainty in his voice whatsoever.
"have you been listening? i told you i think he's starting to catch feeling for lumine. i can't do that. besides, i already blew our chances of ever getting back together long ago. i just want this to be over. i want to move on." you rambled, exasperated.
"there you go. you should know what's best for you. and y/n?"
"yeah?" you breathed out.
"lumine's your friend. even if she liked him, i doubt she'd get in a relationship with him, knowing your history."
chuckling, you said "hah, i wonder about that.. anyway, thank you. i'm sorry for dumping all of this on you."
"it's alright. i'm always here to listen to you, that's what friends are for, right?"
moment of silence. then, "right. i should go now, i'll text you later, kay?"
"okay. bye, y/n."
"talk to you later, scara."
after hanging up, you decided to remain on the balcony for a bit longer, sorting the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. what was the best thing to do?
you don't know how much time passed with you standing there, staring into nothingness, before your peace was broken by the sound of the balcony door opening, the one person clouding your thoughts walking out and joining you.
"are you alright? you've been gone for quite some time" ayato spoke, breaking the silence
you looked at him briefly, then turned back and stared at the cityscape again. "i'm great. just got lost in thoughts for a bit. it's beautiful up here, isn't it?"
he smiled, "it is." coming out from him before he moved to stand next to you, joining you in staring at nothing ahead.
you knew what you had to do – universe gracefully blessed you with this opportunity. you wanted to know. you had to ask. so you did.
the sound of silence was broken by your sudden question. "hey ayato.. do you like lumine?" and then you turned to look at him, the little voice in the back of your mind hoping he'd say you were wrong.
he looked at you once again, his eyes burning holes right through you. the silence was deafening and you found yourself wishing you'd never asked. you weren't ready for the answer. he searched your eyes for a long moment, his gaze so powerful it hurt, but you didn't dare look away. you wondered what he was looking for, why was it taking him so long to answer.
he opened his mouth, preparing to say something, then closed it again. breaking eye contact, he looked away and sighed like he was defeated.
".. i think i do. why?"
you could feel something inside you breaking. why does it have to be like this? you were prepared to hear that, you knew it for months now, but why does it still hurt like that?
despite the turmoil of emotions in your soul, you smiled. you can get through this, you thought to yourself. don't let him know that hurt. it's your fault for not getting rid of your feelings earlier.
"oh, it's just a thought i had and i wanted to check. thank you for telling me though."
"... yeah."
awkwardness filled the air, you not knowing what to say anymore, and wanting to just jump off that damned balcony or burn the whole apartment complex down with you in it. it'd be easier that way, you thought.
"well, should we get inside now? it's kinda chilly out here." you chuckled again, hurriedly moving towards the balcony door.
"y/n, wait."
you stopped in your tracks and then turned to look at him again.
"yeah?"
ayato looked at the ground, then looked at you once more, awkwardly scratching his head.
"do you think i have a chance with her?"
ONCE MORE 🪷 previous · masterlist · next
ayato x reader social media au
SYNOPSIS what happens when your ex comes back from abroad and you realize you still like him, but as destiny likes to play with us all it just so happens that he starts getting closer with your roommate? what will you do?
a/n – i'm sorry . anyway! see you all on tuesday since i won't be able to update until then! also - have you listened to midnights? if so – come tell me your fav songs <3 thank you for reading and enjoying the story!!
📌@lazy-sanns @mayasshitposts @akebcshi @myday6-studies @kittycasie @crisdamoon @nekogakuro @foelup @bloodiedparasol @sukunasrealgf @hangecanweholdhands @mxlkytea13 @lady-elodie @roguebox @sophisticatedleslie @redactedhimbo @lunastarjay @shirmxie @laventiseriou @lucy-roo @celestair @scarasaver @izayumi-chan @steruberry @kaiyoschaos @aiikalvr @r1tas @dazaisfavgf @nejibot @hrtswinter @slvdsjjk @icelessly @cridtiins @tosiavv @ieathairs @astolary @shizunxie @ferumie @ifelloutofbed @chills-boyfriend @zannivrs @caffinatedcoma @anniejourn
TAGLIST OPEN –> [send an ask to be added]
if your name's in bold it means that for some reason i can't tag you! please check your tagging options !!
#genshin smau#ayato smau#genshin imagines#genshin impact smau#kamisato ayato smau#ayato imagines#genshin x reader#kamisato ayato x reader#ayato x you#genshin x y/n#kamisato ayato
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obsession ── jinsik
hush ── part one
💌 parings: ???!jinsik x gn!reader
💌 genre: yandere, oneshot
💌 contains: mentions of murder, mention of blood. don't trust jinsik.
💌 word count: 1.3k words.
:̗̀➛ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 + 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
:̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭?
:̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞?
:̗̀➛ 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? (for all works)
It was raining.
You looked up at the dark sky, letting out a silent sigh.
"here, darling. have this umbrella, you can return it to me tomorrow." the sweet lady who hired you despite your inability to speak said, and you quickly signed a thank you to her. she shakes her head, and bade you off as you walked into the rainy night of the streets.
society hasn't been very kind to people like you, but you were extremely fortunate. lucky, in fact. you finished your studies, have a place to stay, and even have a stable job as a florist.
you walked through the rain, stopping at the intersection to an alleyway. should you take the shortcut? your attention shifted towards the watch on your hand, and you steered into the alleyway.
it's quite late already, and if you reach home in time, you can have some extra time to watch the drama that you hadn't finished-
you stopped dead in your tracks, your umbrella falling out of your hand. your eyes went wide, as you took a step backwards, the rain quickly soaking you.
you watched, as a figure in a raincoat stood in the middle of the alleyway, his back towards you. in front of the figure in the raincoat, the man's eyes bulged, as you spot the silver of the blade of a knife disappear into the man's guts.
your mind was screaming for you to run, but your legs remained frozen on the ground in fear. the man fell onto the floor of the dirty alleyway, and you finally found the courage to move. you turned, your canvas shoes splashing against the water. you were about to make it out of the alleyway when a force dragged you back to the alley, forcing a hand around your mouth.
you struggled, as the figure pinned you onto the wall. his face was hidden in the dark, and you stop struggling, as he pressed the side of the blade next to your neck.
"an eyewitness?" his voice was hoarse. he tilted his head slightly, sliding the blade up to the side of your face. "oh dear. how unfortunate."
you pressed your palms together, rubbing them slightly and you begged for your life, tears rolling down your face along with the rain. he merely chuckled at your pathetic gesture and closed his fingers around your neck, cutting off the air supply in your lungs. you shake your head frantically, making a sign with your hands. please!
"a mute?" there was interest in his voice. you feel the pressure off you, and you fell to the ground as the figure move away. "interesting." you coughed, taking in huge breaths of the rainy air.
"let us play a game, little mute." the figure bent down, his gloved hand gripping your chin, forcing you to look up. "if i ever catch you near a cop, i'll make sure to snap this pretty neck of yours." he warned. you nodded, knowing that the killer had let you off.
you were quick to run out of the alleyway and onto the lighted streets. you panted, running straight home.
from that day on, you would always feel as though someone was watching you. you were often distracted, even cutting yourself by accident as you absentmindedly trim the stalk of flowers.
your eyes teared as you open your mouth to scream a silent cry of pain. the blood drip onto your apron as you stood up, looking for the first aid kit.
the floral shop was empty, and the kind lady who owned the shop had to leave temporarily. you were glad that she had placed a lot of trust in you, leaving you to tend the floral shop alone.
as you bandage your bleeding finger, you hear the bell, signalling that someone had entered the shop. you looked up, teary eyed, to see a young man entering.
he was dressed in a black leather jacket with a white graphic tee and long black pants. he scratched the back of his head as he looked around, finally spotting you.
when he opened his mouth to speak, you immediately pointed to a sign, nodding your head at him in greeting.
"ahh, i see. i'm looking for flowers... for my mum..." the man blushed slightly. you gave him a gentle smile, and opened the cooler behind you, taking out the fresh bouquets of carnations that you have previously prepared.
"where's mrs lee?" he asked, as you turned to face him. you took your phone out, trying to type with one hand.
she has some matters to attend to. would you like to wait for her?
"it's okay, it's been a long time since i came back here. um, i'm sorry for being nosy, but what happened to your finger?" the man asked, reaching into his pocket and pulling his wallet out. you blushed, embarrassed.
an accident. now, would you like to pay by credit or cash, sir?
"cash. and by the way, call me jinsik. j-i-n-s-i-k." jinsik smiled as he passed over some cash to you. you merely gave him another smile, as you gave him his change.
from then on, you would see jinsik from time to time. mrs lee told you that jinsik was the son of one of the shop owners that previously lived here. she would give the both of you a knowing smile whenever jinsik visited.
soon, jinsik begin to ask you out for dates. the both of you would enjoy times at cafés, or plainly just short walks. well, it was just jinsik talking, and you replying him with your phone. that night and that killer was soon off your mind, as you fell in love with this kind, soft-spoken man.
and then it came the day where you moved in with jinsik. the both of you share an apartment near your workplace and jinsik's, which was the bookstore a few blocks down the floral shop.
today, you've reached home early. you removed your shoes, reading the note jinsik had sticked to the shoe rack. im at the sign language lesson, i'll come home later. please remember to eat, darling.
you smiled to yourself. you were lucky, having jinsik as your boyfriend. you thought, as you entered the living room. you stretched, looking around you.
time for you to do some chores.
normally, it was jinsik who did the chores. he insisted on it himself, saying that he would rather do the household chores since you were the one who cooks.
you made a quick meal for yourself, before placing the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. you did the laundry, and is now tidying up the closet.
jinsik is a messy person. you sighed, separating his wrinkled clothes that needed to be ironed from the pile of normal clothings. your side of the closet was neat, sorted according to the seasons and colours. jinsik's was just jumbled around, and that made you uncomfortable.
you folded his clothes, placing some on the racks. soon, you pulled out a familiar raincoat admist the pile of clothes.
you paused, your hands sliding over the coat. flashbacks of the killer appeared in your mind, as you dropped the coat to your lap, eyes widening.
how did... is jinsik... what...?
you hear the sound of the front door opening, and you quickly stuffed the raincoat admist the pile of folded clothes. when jinsik entered the room, you forced yourself to be normal, greeting him with a smile as he wrapped his arms around you.
"i'm back home, darling." he said, pulling back to look around you. "were you tidying up my stuff?"
you nodded catiously. jinsik merely smiled, but there was something in his smile. "found anything interesting?"
your heart almost stopped. you avoided his gaze, shaking yourself as you reached for the next shirt that needed to be folded. you could feel his intense gaze on you as you bit the insides of your cheeks, warning yourself to stay ignorant. no, it's just a coincidence.
"you saw the raincoat, didn't you?"
you froze. it was the same, hoarse voice. jinsik's arms was still around you, trapping you. your body stiffened, as he buried his head into your neck, sighing.
"oh, darling. i was hoping that the game would last longer."
#xikers#xikers fanfic#xikers oneshot#yandere xikers#xikers x reader#jinsik#ham jinsik#yandere jinsik#xikers jinsik#jinsik x reader#☁️by k#xikers imagines#xikers drabbles#kpop#yandere kpop
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25/FEB/20XX
light shot into my sockets from the right side. a pillow had been removed from my enclosure. i squint through the light to see frisk.
raising an eyebrow, they gestured to the pile around me on the couch.
"(migraine.)"
they slowly point to the light switch.
"(nope.)"
i point to papyrus, who's focused on a puzzle that came with the newspaper.
"(staying on.)"
"(.....I'm sure he'll understand??)"
"(he would more than understand. he'd probably make a point of assuring i was comfortable.)"
"(..And that's supposed to be a bad thing?)"
"(he's having fun with what he's doing. don't want to suddenly switch him to worry mode.)"
"(I doubt-)"
"(besides. this works fine.)"
"(well, it did before you opened a window in it.)"
shoving my face into the cushion of the couch to continue blocking out the light, i felt the pillow replaced to where it was.
a weight settled on the other end of the couch, then against the pillow and blanket cocoon of mine.
"(So, he hasn't questioned why you're doing this at all?)"
"(told him i was cold.)"
"(It's.. not cold out today.)"
"(believed it anyway.)"
"(Isn't it the opposite under there?)"
"(yeah. kinda burning up, but it's a small price to pay for darkness.)"
"(Why aren't you in your room or something??)"
"(he'd definitely know something was up.)"
"(Dude...)"
"(he would know.)"
"(I don't doubt that, but the lengths you go to just to... NOT worry him.)"
"(i wouldn't say lengths.)"
"(Heights?)"
"(c'mon-)"
"(Widths?)"
"(this is nothin'.)"
"(Well it's not less than something.)"
"(eh.)"
"(what're you up to out there?)"
"(I'm not done talking about you.)"
"(.......k.)"
"(You take something already?)"
"(the less strong kind, but it doesn't interact with my prescription ones.)"
"(Right.)"
"(Just a normal migraine, you think?)"
"(it's kinda centralized around my right eye, which...)"
i was about to sigh, then realized that would probably grab papyrus' attention.
"(i don't love, but it feels mostly normal.)"
"(What's the meter say?)"
trying to not knock over my whole pile to check, i tap the screen to see a red light.
no idea how long it's been like that for.
"(...i'm good.)"
"(let me ask again what you're up to?)"
they were silent for a moment as if wondering something else, but answered anyway.
"(Got bored, and Flowey was being annoying. So I came here.)"
"(you were so nice to him at first.)"
"(I was worried he'd leave or go on a murderous rampage again or something.)"
"(or try and take everyone's souls?)"
"(....I don't think he'll do that one again.)"
"(me either, mostly.)"
"(I'd kick his petals in again for sure.)"
"(Emotionally.)"
"(....Though, I...)"
"(..Would probably have to use SAVEs again to do that.)"
"(listen, if that petalhead went and took everyone's souls?)"
"(i give you full permission to god-mode the timeline or whatever else you need to 'emotionally kick his petals in'.)"
"(I haven't... done that in a while, actually.)"
"(loading?)"
"(Obviously not.)"
"(That would be going back on our promise.)"
"(I meant SAVING.)"
"(...hm.)"
"(Should I?)"
"(In case one of us gets in some tragic accident.)"
"(your call, kiddo.)"
"(if you meet him, tell the next sans i said that.)"
"(Let's hope I don't have to.)"
"(can i ask what's made you so sure flowey won't leave anymore?)"
"(If he wanted to, he totally could have multiple times.)"
memory of an orange sky and empty field come to mind.
"(yeah. true.)"
"(He's stormed off a couple times, but he always returns.)"
"(kid's gotten attached to you.)"
"(Not just me.)"
"(definitely to my bro, too. and tori.)"
"(In a weird way, I think he likes you too.)"
"(tolerates me for paps' sake.)"
"(Definitely part of it, but I don't know. He doesn't utterly recoil whenever you're mentioned like he used to.)"
"(heheh. getting that kind of reaction just by entering the room was pretty funny.)"
"(I'm glad he's warmed up to everyone though.)"
"('cept undyne. he's got beef with her still.)"
"(The thing with Undyne is more like rivalry.)"
"(They have more fun going at each other's throats than they admit to.)"
"(you think it'd turn into all-out war if my bro wasn't the middleman?)"
"(Papyrus is like the glue between most of this friend group.)"
they must have said his name slightly too loud.
"HM?"
"Oh-"
"Just talking about Flowey's friendships."
"FLOWERY HAS BEEN GETTING ALONG WITH EVERYONE A LITTLE MORE AS OF LATE! I'M QUITE PROUD OF HIM."
"MY KINDNESS LESSONS TO HIM HAVE BEEN CONTRIBUTING, NO DOUBT."
"For sure!"
"(undyne and flowey stop fighting when papyrus enters the room, so he must be doing something right.)"
"WAIT, IF YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT FLOWERY AND THE PAYOFF OF MY EXCELLENT KINDNESS TEACHINGS, THAT MEANS..."
"SANS IS ACTUALLY AWAKE UNDER THERE STILL??"
"He is indeed."
i shove my hand through some pillows in a thumbs-up, then quickly pull it back slightly to hide the monitor on my arm.
"HI SANS."
"STILL FREEZING?"
"yep."
"JEEZ."
"YOU'RE NOT GETTING SICK, ARE YOU?"
"nah. just a bit extra chilly."
"left my window open all night, woke up as an ice cube."
"THIS IS WHY I TELL YOU TO CLOSE IT BY AT TEN AT THE LATEST!!"
"YOU'LL DEFINITELY GET SICK IF YOU DON'T."
"not everything's gonna make me sick."
"THE POTENTIAL FOR IT TO IS THERE."
"𝘪𝘭𝘭 be alright. 'specially for one night."
"IS IT AT LEAST CLOSED NOW?"
"uhh..."
suddenly unable to remember whether it actually 𝘄𝗮𝘀 closed.
"yyyeah..?"
"...THAT SOUNDS VERY NON-CONFIDENT."
"I'll check."
frisk's weight disappeared from the opposite end of the couch.
"I'LL ACCOMPANY YOU. WOULDN'T WANT YOU TO GET LOST IN THE PIGSTY THAT IS SANS' ROOM."
"it's not as bad as it was. promise."
his voice was more distant this time.
"RIGHT. AND THE CLOTHES ON THE FLOOR HERE AREN'T BAD AT ALL."
"it's basically clean."
"IT IS NOT."
"definitely is."
"SAY THAT AGAIN WHEN YOU CAN UN-PILLOW CASKET YOURSELF, ICE CUBE SKELETON."
taking the opportunity where neither of them were in sight, i removed the monitor and stuffed it in my pocket.
i opened a gap in the pillow enclosure to let some fresh air in.
the thud of my window shutting could be heard. footsteps stomp down the stairs.
"whoops."
"NEED I START CLOSING IT MANUALLY AT TEN ON MY OWN?"
"i'll remember eventually after freezing myself enough."
"...AS ALWAYS, THE GREAT PAPYRUS MUST TAKE RESPONSIBILITY..."
"Sans, you should set an alarm so that you actually remember."
"GOOD IDEA, FRISK!"
"SANS, GIVE ME YOUR PHONE. I'M SETTING AN ALARM FOR YOU."
"ok."
"can you also set a timer while you're at it?"
"WHAT FOR?"
"so i don't sleep the rest of the day."
"Guess it was only a matter of time before he took a nap there."
"can't resist the allure of a good nap buried in cushions."
can't overheat or suffer migraines or have to deal with magic issues if i'm asleep.
"HUMAN, DO YOU WANT TO COOK SOMETHING WITH ME?"
"Yeah!!"
"WE'LL WAKE SANS UP AFTERWARDS, THEN."
——
i was woken up to macaroni with what might be considered "definitely too much cheese" in it. not like i mind, though - and after my migraine cleared up, i was far too hungry to care.
p.s.
took care of the red monitor thing by taking shortcuts around town for a while after papyrus thought i went to bed.
is it the greatest solution?
no idea. too exhausted after that to worry about.
#undertale#journal#sans#papyrus#frisk#sans and frisk#frisk and sans#sans and papyrus#papyrus and sans#skelebros#flowey#undyne#they sure are mentioned#this is a messy one but anyway
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I am a greedy soul, and I want to ask them all. But for now, rolling a d8, I ask: I Need A Doctor!
I Need a Doctor! (WIP Ask Game!)
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.
Ekko's arm was slung over Jinx's shoulder as he trudged to the infirmary.
"That dumbass, fucking little bitch! I'll decapitate her and crush her damn skull!" Jinx spat as she carefully set him on the bed.
"It's a cut but it still stings. At least she didn't gut me like she intended to."
"She should have never touched you in the first place." Jinx groused. "Let me see, "she gingerly took off his jacket for him. Ekko removed his hand his side and winced.
Jinx hasn't been squeamish after Silco adopted her. Blood and murder have been the norm for her growing up with him.
Her monkey mask had blood running down her eyes and on her fangs to standout from the other firelight members.
He didn't know it yet but she liked-liked him. He was precious to her and saw him as an angel.
So, the sight of Ekko's blood had made her queasy.
Her friend had gotten hurt and Sevika would have killed him if he wasn't fast enough to dodge her attack.
"I'm either going to slit, that ogre's throat or blow her brains out. Either way, she'll be dead!"
Jinx rant managed to make Ekko smile at her.
Life was funny, wasn't it?
He planned on killing both of Silco's goons, he pummeled Jinx's face and nearly succeded in killing her-only for to get enraged that Sevika harmed him.
"Just you? Taking down an enemy is a team effort." He said wryly. "But no one else got hurt. So, I'm glad it was me."
"No. It shouldn't have," she scolded. "I should have protected you. It should have been me," she peeled his stained, white tank top from his head. "There's a big difference between us."
Ekko frowned and furrowed his brows. "What's that?"
"I'm not afraid of death." Jinx's unblinking gaze showed how serious she was with her statement.
#timebomb#ekkojinx#firelight jinx au#arcane#my writing#wip#wip ask game#ask#cauldron-of-oddities#AAAAAA#SO HAPPY YOU WANTED TO ASK FOR MORE OF MY WIPS😭💖💗💖💗💖💗💖💗
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A rant about my mixed feelings about Harumi in this timeline.
Mk1 story and endings spoilers, brief mention of possible leaks
On one hand, I am really glad that they are giving her depth rather than being the murdered wife of Hanzo. To give her the opportunity to be a character rather than a plot device. But it gets thrown out the window the moment they insta married her to Kuai because he's Scorpion now.
Yes, it's true we probably get to know more about her in mk1. That she was running a clan in Japan before Kuai got there. She is an effective fighter as well. She is just as passionate and angry if the roles were versed and she lost Hanzo and Satoshi. These sound like good things and they are.
So, what's the problem? Well, her relationship with Kuai and the lack of context. To me, it seems like all NRS sees her as "SCORPION WIFE." and her destiny is always to be wed to one even if Scorpion is a man to whom she has never interacted with in previous canon. A relationship that hasn't been shown to us but rather told to us repeatedly in intros and endings. We are TOLD that her and Kuai were childhood friends. We are told that Kuai goes there after that Mk1 and basically crashes her clan and rebuilds and names her after. We were told that they plan to wed after a short time of reuniting.
The only thing they are going to show allegedly (according to story2 leaks) is their wedding. We won't ever get to see them bond? Why did they decide to marry? What do they even like in each other? We are told they are marrying before we can actually see Harumi as a character. I feel like if you are gonna pair Harumi up with Kuai, add context or develop it? At the very least? Don't just tell us and think everyone will accept it? So many fans would have loved to see Hanzo and Harumi fall in love. To see why they were passionate about each other to begin with? Why they would go down a path of revenge and anger when the other and their son dies To see them work together without Harumi instantly dying? After like 30 somewhat years of only seeing small snips before tragedy hits them.
Everything would have made sense if it was Hanzo in Kuai's place in the story. It would be more easily believable to be told these things because we do not have to extend our imaginations to figure out how that worked? We know in every other timeline, Hanzo and Harumi are married and in love. We can conclude they will do without it seeing random and swallow. Then all NRS had to do was focus on her character because we already know they can love each other. Instead, they're going to make an unsatisfied romance between two characters that have no chemistry or context to be together. Other than the fact, Kuai is Scorpion so therefore Harumi should marry him.
Like you're telling me we have an invasion ending where Harumi is shown that if she was in Hanzo's shoes, she would make similar decisions to him? Only for her to never interact with Hanzo outside invasions? It feels like a money paw, we finally get to see Harumi do something other than die but we don't get to see her and Hanzo be together? That we won't ever actually get to see what they were like before they were married? Like NRS could simply have written that her and Hanzo were both Kuai's childhood friends? Or that her and Kuai remained friends and worked together on the Shirai-Ryu? Give her a timeline where she doesn't have to wed "Scorpion"?
#bird why#Dominic cucumber when i see you its on sight#mk1#mk1 spoilers#harumi hasashi#kuai Liang#mortal kombat 1#mortal Kombat 1 spoilers
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Don't mess with the teachers of Babyl
Another 'what if iruma got kidnapped'! But not as angsty as the last one
Hope you enjoy!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A student was taken
He was taken from right under their noses, by a teacher.
They’re going to regret this. They’re going to regret this oh so much.
–
Iruma was not having a good day.
His day started great, actually. He was taking an exam to see if he’s strong enough to protect those dear to him! And, admittedly, he wasn't that strong. He let Chima-chan’s heart get popped, but! That means he now needs to get stronger! And his team still hasn't failed! They’ve survived a grand total of 24 minutes against the teachers of Babyl!! That’s a feat!
And then he got kidnapped.
But Iruma’s gotta say that he’s impressed! The teachers are really determined to act their parts! For a minute their Iruma truly thought that Atori-sensei was dangerous… but! Grandpa has yet to intervene, so he must really like acting! And Iruma admires that!
He is upset to have been taken out, and he’s been so close. He must have let down Chima-chan and Vine-kun, getting taken out like that when they've worked so hard.
And now he’s waiting for Atori-sensei to take him to the drop-out tent. It’s kinda boring in this cocoon. He keeps hearing Atori-sensei speaking, but he can’t really understand a word. it's all muffled gibberish to him. It's kind of weird that Atori-sensei didn't just let him walk to the tent after popping Vine-kun’s heart. He also can't hear any other voices, not even Kalego-sensei. He’s sure Kalego-sensei would have scolded Atori-sensei for using excessive force like this. He looked so serious when fighting Atori-sensei!
Maybe Kalego-sensei is protecting them? So they haven’t lost yet? Yeah, maybe Atori-sensei thought to take him out first and then pop the heart, but couldn’t. They’re such amazing Kouhais! And he’s glad Kalego-sensei didn't just decide to pop their heart!
…those 6 minutes seem to have been dragging on for a while, though. He hopes Atori-sensei doesn't forget to let him out.
“You can’t go after him-”
“He’s taken one of our treasures-!”
“He’s taken my student, but if we attack now, we won't take down the ones behind this-”
“He took Iruma-sama-”
“We need to know who’s behind this so it doesn't happen again-”
They were fighting among themselves. Those who weren't were barely holding back Dali-kun from…they’re not really sure. Either murdering Atori, which they don't really mind that much, or murdering Kalego, which they very much do mind. None of them have what it takes to handle the abnormal class like Kalego does.
Balam-sensei looked at the Chairman. He’s surprised he was still standing here and didn't go off after Atori and Iruma. He looks… rigid. Shocked, and on the brink of committing genocide. He seems in no state to be the decision-maker right now. But, he is their chairman, and they can’t really take a decision without him. He needs to get the chairman out of this stupor.
“What do you think we should do, Principle?”
So he put him on the spot.
Now all the eyes were on the chairman (Except for Dali-kun, but he’s in his wicked phase, so it’s not that surprising)
“Kalego-kun is correct,” Ifrit quickly put Dantalion in a head-lock to stop whatever he was gonna do “We must find those behind this attack. But, we can let Dali-kun stalk them, make sure they don't mistreat our treasure” and Dantalion was gone before the chairman even finished his sentence.
“Kalego-kun, Opera-kun, make sure he doesn't attack Atori-san. Of course, unless Atori-san has stepped over the line, then feel free to educate Atori-san however you like!” and once again, the demons addressed disappeared, this time waiting until the chairman was done talking before flying after Dali-kun.
“Balam-kun, Ifrit-kun, please deal with Shiida-san. The rest should calm the students down. The stress may cause some to enter their wicked phase! please make sure they don’t harm their fellow classmates if they do enter their wicked phases” With that, he started moving, but his eyes stayed on Oswell a moment too long.
“..Orias-kun, please come with me” Everyone gave Oswell sympathetic looks. This is the first time a lot of them saw their chairman pissed, and none of them wanted to know how he acted when someone threatened one of his people.
Balam and Ifrit shared a look and started searching for Shiida. They found her literally in the next corridor, her posture tense, and looks like she was ready to fight. Before either of them could apprehend her, she looked Balam in the eyes, and something in him hesitated.
“What,” She started, her voice shaking with barely repressed rage “Did…Atori do?”
“What..did he do…to Iruma?”
They never had a chance
Atori, idiot, dead Atori, should have known not to attack Babyl school.
Baal, cocky, arrogant Baal, should have known better than to target one of Sullivan’s family
Shiida, innocent, naive Shiida, should’ve come and told them right away if she really didn't want Iruma to get hurt, but Sullivan is satisfied enough with the information he got from her, so he'll deal with her later.
Kalego and Opera managed to convince Dali not to attack Atori the second they found him, whispering promises of all the things he could do to everyone who put his treasure in danger, and if they were patient now, they can make sure it never happens again. For how dangerous Dali is in his wicked phase, it’s laughably easy to manipulate him.
Soon, Opera was calling Sullivan to let him know that Atori seemed to be heading toward a mansion built on a famous river. Sullivan’s response was that backup is on the way.
“If you’re sure that’s where Atori is headed, Get Iruma back now” He ended the call, and Opera relayed the information to his companions.
A blink later, and Dali was holding the Iruma’s cocoon in his arms, cradling him gently, and whispering reassurances to him.
No one commented on the red footsteps he left behind.
They quickly got rid of the silk engulfing Iruma
"Iruma-kun!" They all screamed at a kinda dazed, very confused Iruma. Did the exam finally finish? Why are they screaming his name?
"Uh, hi sensei-?" Opera suddenly grabbed his face and started… checking him over? Were they worried that he'd suffocated in the cocoon? And Kalego-sensei was poking at his limb like he'd gotten hurt, but he's fine!
"Shenshei, Opera-shan, I'm fine" he looked behind them and there was Dali-kun, but he was acting kinda strange? He was staring at him weirdly, and doesn't blink
He doesn’t think he could win a staring contest against Dali-kun.
"'Fine'? Yeah, of course, you're fine after getting kidnapped" Kalego muttered as he continued checking him over, and casting a small healing spell just in case. Just until they hunt down Buer to check this reckless idiot over.
"Kidnapped?" Iruma asked with all the innocence of a toddler that has yet to learn how to fly, which made everyone freeze.
Slowly, Opera directed Iruma’s head to look him into his eyes so what he tells him will really reach his head that, apparently, has been swimming amongst the cloud while he was being kidnapped.
"Iruma-sama," Iruma looked into Opera's eyes, and he’s really questioning whether all humans are this naive or it's an Iruma-only thing
"You have been kidnapped"
Silence stretched for a moment, and all the adults were staring tensely at Iruma, waiting for whatever response this child could give to being kidnapped.
"Oh," he starts "haven’t gone through that in a while"
Wait what?
"Wait, what?"
"Yeah, it's the first time a teacher tried to kidnap me. Normally it'd be a creep in a corner, but if I'd known I was being kidnapped I wouldn't have just let Atori-sensei take me"
"Let's just..take him to the school"
"I'll be reporting this, information to Sullivan-sama"
"I'm going to hunt everyone who has ever wronged this child"
"Dali-kun! You don't have to carry me-!"
"He's right, Dantalion-kun. I can hold him while you go after those in the castle"
"Will you two just put him down? He has two working legs and two working wings, he can move on his own!"
–
Baal was sitting impatiently in his office, waiting for Atori's return. He'd gotten word that the idiot has left the school quickly, so he's probably fucked up the very easy instructions he's given him.
How hard is it to just follow the plans Baal stays up all night forming? Do they always have to destroy everything he does? There's no way the plan was so hard this time that Atori would've fucked it up in a week. All he had to do was to not attack children. Is that very hard to do, people? Is it that hard not attacking a bunch of high schoolers?
A sigh escapes him as he rubs his forehead, already feeling the headache that'll grow once Atori tells him why he fled the school. A commotion could be heard from behind the door and Baal sighed even harder, because of course. Of course, the first thing Atori would do is pick a fight with literally everyone in the building.
Just as Baal was about to get up and stop the nonsense going on outside, the door exploded.
Fire, blue and hot and greedy, engulfed everything in the room and threatening to engulf Baal with it. Vines suddenly appeared through the ceiling and from the ground, shooting and piercing the chair Baal was in a moment ago. If Baal hadn't jumped these vines would have-
An arrow, strong and bright and so full of magic, shot through his chest, knocking the breath out of him. And strong hands wrapped around his neck and banged his head onto the floor.
He couldn't move.
The presence above him, still holding him down, was too powerful for him to do anything. There are only three demons who could dream of bringing him down like this
"Baal-kun"
And apparently, he’s angered one of them
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"Sullivan! What is the meaning of this, attacking me like that!"
"Oh, so this is how you want it to go?"
The hands squeezed tighter, threatening to just break his neck with a single movement.
"I did not attack you, Baal-kun. You simply went missing, just like Behemolt-kun did. Everyone knows this, Baal-kun, how is it that you don't?"
–
They've thought that everyone knew by now. No matter who you are, or what status you have. No matter how rich or poor you may be, or how much of a big shot you think you are.
No one messes with the teachers of Babyl.
And no one may touch a single hair of their students.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And that concludes the mairuma ideas that have stuck into my head and refused to leave. Hopefully I'll get other ideas or else I'll be super bored.
#mairimashita! iruma kun#welcome to demon school iruma kun#mairimashita iruma kun#iruma kun#naberius kalego#atori (m!ik)#m!ik baal#dali dantalion#sullivan#m!ik shiida#opera sensei#m!ik balam#uhhh who else#the rest were just barely mentioned i think#mairuma fanfic#mairimashita fanfic
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By: Paul Mulshine
Published: Dec 28, 2015
Around this time of year, various journalists run sanitized versions of the creation myth of Kwanzaa. They report that it has roots in African culture and overlook the fact that founder Maulana Karenga has a past that discredits both him and his made-up holiday.
So, it was interesting to see this article in which the writer notes that Kwanzaa is even less popular than Festivus, that holiday made up for the Seinfeld show.
Click here for the in-depth article I did for Heterodoxy Magazine on Kwanzaa back then.
Below is my 2002 column on the subject:
--
ONE OF MY READERS called me the other day to inform me that the public schools in New Jersey aren't allowed to celebrate Christmas but are celebrating Kwanzaa.
This is intriguing. Christmas celebrates the legacy of Christ who, by all accounts, was a nonviolent man who believed that people of all types could learn to live in peace. Kwanzaa celebrates the legacy of an extremely violent man from California who has dedicated his life to spreading dissension among the races.
More on that later. First let's deal with the question of why schools can propagate a belief in Kwanzaa but not Christmas or Chanukah. For an answer, I called Ed Martone of the American Civil Liberties Union.
''Kwanzaa isn't a religious holiday," said Martone. "It's a cultural holiday. It doesn't have the same restrictions as Chanukah or Christmas."
I'll grant that there is a certain logic to the view. After all, once the government gets involved in religion, the potential conflicts among Catholics, Protestants, Jews, Muslims and atheists are so complex that perhaps we are better off avoiding them altogether.
But by that same logic, the public schools should not be pushing certain cultural practices. And the schools especially shouldn't be endorsing cultural practices created by a character with the beliefs and the background of Ron Karenga.
It is not easy to get a hold of the facts about the background of the creator of Kwanzaa. In fact, it is nearly impossible. The history of the founder of Kwanzaa has disappeared into an Orwellian time warp.
If you look up the name "Ron Karenga" on any of the many newspaper data bases that are available these days, you will read a glowing account of a deep-thinking philosopher who comes across as a sort of jolly Father Christmas for African-Americans.
You won't find any reference to murder or torture. Yet murder was a specialty of US, the paramilitary organization that Karenga ran in Los Angeles in the late 1960s.
As for torture, Karenga took that more personally. The accounts of his personal role in a particularly sadistic episode of brutality have been largely lost to history.
The episode seems to exist only on a few microfilmed pages of the Los Angeles Times. It took two days of research and phone calls to track them down.
Here is an excerpt from an article headlined "Woman describes two days of torture" on the May 1971 trial of Karenga for torturing two dissident members of his group:
''Deborah Jones, who once was given the Swahili title of an African queen, said she and Gail Davis were whipped with an electrical cord and beaten with a karate baton after being ordered to remove their clothes. She testified that a hot soldering iron was placed in Miss Davis' mouth and placed against Miss Davis' face and that one of her own big toes was tightened in a vise. Karenga, head of US, also put detergent and running hoses in their mouths, she said."
Karenga was convicted and served more than three years in a state prison.
This was not an isolated incident. In 1967, Karenga was accused of having his thugs beat up a student who asked him an impertinent question at a college forum.
In 1969, US got involved in a struggle with the Black Panthers for control of the black studies program at UCLA. All involved carried guns on campus. The US guys were quicker on the draw; they killed two Panthers in a shootout at the student center.
It would be nice to say that after Karenga got out of jail in 1975 he repented, saw the error of his ways and invented Kwanzaa as a means of atoning for his past.
Nice, but untrue. Karenga has never atoned for his thuggery, probably because no one ever asked him to. And his sole concession to repentance was his 1975 conversion to Marxism. For him, this was considered to be a sign that he had moderated his views.
Karenga invented Kwanzaa at the height of his gang days, in 1966. And he made it up not to bring peace among the races but to divide them. That's why he placed this alleged "harvest festival" in competition with Christmas, which he derided because of its ties to the hated capitalist system.
It may be true that Kwanzaa has evolved into a ceremony that has importance to a great number of well-intentioned people, people who have no knowledge of its creator's questionable history.
But Karenga himself continues to champion the holiday as an example of what he terms "cultural nationalism." This is the view that black people are a separate "nation" within a hostile country. During a visit to Newark in 1987, Karenga defined America as "an insane, socially decaying society." "We need a value system and a support system . . . because the world is organized against your Africanism," he told Newark residents.
Karenga remains a leading spokesman for the multicultural movement, a movement based on the idea that Americans should emphasize their differences rather than their similarities.
The idea of Kwanzaa fits firmly within multiculturalism. And however you feel about multiculturalism, you must admit that it is a political movement and therefore one that should not be supported with tax dollars.
As for Karenga himself, he should be given all the respect due a convicted torturer.
Call me an old fuddy-duddy, but I believe that once a man inserts a hot soldering iron into a woman's mouth, he should be excluded from public discourse for eternity. I may be wrong, however. Certainly, the people in California don't seem to share this view.
Karenga is now a professor at California State University in Long Beach.
That's California for you. By that standard, there's a university presidency waiting somewhere for Charles Manson when he finally gets out.
COMMENTS:
Note that I'm not arguing here that people shouldn't celebrate Kwanzaa. It's a free country and people can celebrate what they want.
I'm arguing that the media should not cover these celebrations without including the key facts about its founder. That's just basic journalism.
==
Why the Vice President of the United States feels compelled to pretend that her family has a long tradition of celebrating a fake holiday that apes African tropes and Judaism, concocted by a brutal felon and sociopath, and which was invented when she was two years old is a question worth seriously contemplating.
#Ron Karenga#Kwanzaa#Happy Kwanzaa#fake holidays#holiday of torture#Kamala Harris#seven principles#cultural nationalism#black nationalism#black separatists#neo marxism#religion is a mental illness
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For @crystalaris
Cereal
She was gone, you didn't really miss her, but...she was all you had.
"I'm sorry that I had to do that, Y/N. I know all of this must be quite scary. Your mother wasn't a good person, that's why the scales decided she wasn't worthy of life." Arthur said as you starred at your mother's lifeless body.
You didn't feel much, losing her didn't mean much to you.
You didn't really even feel much about finding out Arthur was your father.
"It's fine." You muttered looking back at him.
"But your scales are balanced, and I'm so proud of you." He said with his usual smile as you nodded.
"You'll be so much happier and safer here. You can have a room all to yourself." He said begining to walk away as you followed him.
"So, you're a cult leader." You muttered making him chuckle softly.
"No, not at all." He said as you looked at him.
"But, you follow one God, recruiting people using fear and murder. That's a cult." You said as his smile failed.
"I don't expect you to understand, you're very young and you didn't exactly have a good parental figure growing up." He said as you rolled your eyes.
"Stop turning the conversation around on me and my issues. When I got bored I would study psychology, you're trauma is making you delusional." You said as he stopped walking.
"And now you will react with bitterness and anger because you're defensive, but deep down you know it's true." You said staring at him as he chuckled.
"You could be very useful to us Y/N." He replied before walking again.
"I'm not the cult kind of person, sorry, Arthur." You grumbled, he sighed softly.
"You can call me Father or Dad, Y/N." He said as you rolled your eyes again.
"I met you today and you killed my mother, we're not there yet." You muttered following him into a big hall where people were conversing and eating.
"I think you have a lot of manners to learn, Y/N. You should learn to respect me and others around you." He said, you decided to just go silent and walk away from him to get food.
You could hear his distant disappointed sigh.
--
It had been a whole week of disapproving looks and sighs from Arthur. You were glad you didn't feel much because if you did you would hate it here.
But like usual you fell into a rhythm and routine.
You didn't want to acknowledge that Arthur was your father, you also didn't want to be apart of his stupid cult.
You sat awake in the middle of the night on the shitty mattress on the floor.
You heard your window open and looked up to see the infamous moon knight.
"Good tactic, kidnap the daughter." You muttered as his mask retracted and he looked at you in shock.
"Wherever you're taking me, is there a comfortable bed?" You asked standing up and stretching.
"Um, yeah? Why aren't you shocked?" He asked as you grabbed a jacket and put it on.
"I don't feel much, but I don't really like it here, and you're a hero so it can't be much worse than Harrow. Right?" You said tying your hair up, Marc was speechless.
"I suppose. Khonshu wanted me to kidnap you to have power over Harrow." He said as you nodded.
"Makes sense, do you have decent food at your place? I want some packaged food, not all this vegan organic shit." You said making him chuckle.
"We've got plenty."
--
After an awkward way back to Marc's apartment, you practically ran in and collapsed on his bed.
"Well, that's certainly not what I expected." Steven muttered in the reflection as Marc chuckled.
Jake decided to chip in.
"I know a traumatised child when I see one. She probably hasn't had anything stable in her life, like Khonshu said she only found out about Arthur last week when he murder her mother." He said as Marc sighed and looked at you.
"Is there anything you want to eat?" Marc asked as you sat up and looked at him.
"Do you have sugary cereal? No one ever let's me eat it." You replied making him chuckle.
"There's plenty in the cupboard, go nuts." He said before you jumped up and ran towards the kitchen.
You noticed that even though you were twenty, your mind was still a lot younger.
Which was understandable.
--
After eating you'd fallen asleep on Marc's bed, he decided he'd let you sleep comfortably.
He didn't mind taking the couch.
He woke up around 8am to see you still fast asleep.
He looked in a reflection to see Steven deep in thought.
"So, what is Khonshu planning? We send Harrow a letter saying we have your daughter?" Steven said making Marc laugh a little.
"Something like that. Whatever happens I'm not letting her go back." Marc said glancing over at your peaceful sleeping form.
"I can't imagine what she's gone through, all she wants is comfort and safety. We can give that to her." Marc said, he hadn't realised how much of an attachment he had formed for you already.
"She deserves that much." Steven replied making Marc smile softly.
"She does."
--
After you'd awoken Marc had told you they needed to go see your father and tell him that they had you.
You weren't sure what they were planning but you didn't really care.
You were looking forward to a day by yourself with all the cereal you could eat.
"Just don't leave, okay? I need you to stay here so I know your safe." Marc said as you nodded.
"Marc, there's a bed and good cereal here. Why would I leave?" You said making him laugh.
He made a mental note to get you some more cereal on his way back.
--
You spent the day watching TV and eating cereal, just like you had planned to.
When Marc returned he had two bags of groceries.
"What's that?" You asked making him chuckle.
"I've got four boxes of cereal for you to try." He said unpacking them onto the kitchen bench as you jumped up and ran over looking at them all.
"These are sure to rot my teeth and I love it." You said making him laugh. He loved to see your smile.
"So, what did Harrow say?" You asked grabbing a bowl to try all the cereals.
"It doesn't matter, but you won't ever have to go back to him." He said as you smiled.
"Thank you, Marc."
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Eden VAU & Blood Sacrifices crossover
Whumptober No. 28: Sacrifice
TW: insomnia, referenced religious abuse, referenced human sacrifice, referenced colonialism, vampire carewhumper, human whumpee, referenced vampire whumper, referenced human whumpee
Note: This works if you've only read Eden VAU, but it may or may not contain spoilers for Blood Sacrifices. I played a game of telephone with the plot for myth building realism, so any spoilers are at least a bit inaccurate to what'll actually happen in the plot.
Ezra sat on the sofa with a glass of warm milk, hoping that Christopher could lure him into sleep after hours of insomnia. He hasn't slept at all the night before, and was suffering for it.
"English speakers start stories with once upon a time, yes?" Christopher asked.
"Yes," Ezra affirmed. "At least older stories."
"This is very old story, told for centuries by vampires of the Americas." Christopher cleared his throat. "Once upon a time, there was a vampire. He lived on outskirts of small city state in what we now call Southern Americas. Before European plunderers ravished beautiful jungles in search of gold. This vampire's name has been lost to time. Society he preyed upon was not any remembered culture for their pyramids, and was long destroyed by colonizers."
Ezra nodded. He knew very little of history outside of the United States, and was often embarrassed by it. This seemed a fine way to get an education. Even if it was wrapped in myths and legends.
"This vampire," Christopher continued, "watched for years with jealousy as humans sacrificed one another in their gods' names. He could not understand why he should be forced to hunt humans like wild jungle cat when blood flowed so willingly over ornate altars within temple walls."
Despite his revulsion at the concept of human sacrifice, Ezra couldn't help but think that made some amounts of sense. After all, gods were imaginary, they didn't need human blood. But vampires did, even if sacrifices and murders were equally brutal.
"So, watched civilization for years, hatching a grand plot to disguise himself as god of hunting, harvest, and new life. This went well, and soon he was power of great authority over the people. But he made a grave and simple mistake. For he found sons of men lovely to behold, and fell in love with his high priest. They spent much time together, and his high priest would go any lengths to please the charlatan he believed to be his god."
This reminded Ezra of the many Greek myths he had read, with gods falling for mortals, usually under very unethical circumstances. Like Zeus and… Every woman in Greece ever.
"The charlatan relentlessly pursued and romanced his priest, until no person or treasure in all their land mattered more than their marriage. But secrets always come out, no matter how long they take. The priest had no knowledge of vampire kind until the charlatan confessed to nature of his kind."
Ezra found himself growing invested in the story. It was an odd kind of myth. More something he would read in a history text book than hear before bed. But as it seemed to be known to vampires alone, he counted himself lucky to be introduced to these ancient men of renown.
"The priest felt as betrayed as any man could, and hatched plot of his own. Next time the charlatan fell into slumber, the priest made attempt on his life. It was unsuccessful, and the two men disappeared from their city shortly after. No one knows what became of them, but even now some claim to have met two vampires, always traveling under different names and creating schemes to pull wool over eyes of mankind."
"I like that story," Ezra said, sensing that it was over. "It's really unique. I like the idea that the charlatan turned the priest into a vampire so they could run off together. Even if the start of their relationship wasn't great, for obvious reasons."
"I am glad you enjoyed my telling it. We vampires have many stories of this kind, and I would be pleased to tell you them."
Ezra yawned, and set his empty glass on the coffee table. "How about tomorrow? I really have to sleep."
"Of course, my darling." Christopher stood up and kissed Ezra on his forehead. "Pleasant dreams."
Eden taglist: @hugh-lauries-bald-spot @thedarkmongoose @whumpsday @whump-by-robin @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @annablogsposts @whumpshaped @seetheothersideofparadise @knittedeyebrowsandcardigans @whatwasmyprevioususername @boonasaurusrex @suspicious-whumping-egg @heavenlyeden @melancholy-in-the-morning @snakebites-and-ink @suck-my-clit-loser @i-eat-worlds @scp-1296 @chiswhumpcorner @skittles-the-whumpee @whumpki @dokidokisadness @enbygesserit @canislycaon24 @be-gay-do-crime-ahaha @a-crumb-of-whump @pixelated-whump @whumpytine
Blood Sacrifices taglist: @hugh-lauries-bald-spot @thedarkmongoose @whumpsday @whumpshaped @boxboysandotherwhump @thecyrulik @heavenlyeden @whumpitisthen @whumptier @whumpy-writings @desiresandvampires @whumpytine
#Abraham original: Hot off the press#Whump#Whumptober2023#Whumptober day 28#Sacrifice#Whump writing#Whump crossover
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Doll, the weird issue is hard to ignore
A rant on story and character motivations, featuring Doll.
*Before Episode 7 so all my thoughts are based on that*
Before I go ahead, I love Doll. From aesthetic to personality.
But my gods, her place in the story. This hasn't been an issue till I started writing her into fics, till I realised rather quickly how her story and motivations just don't work.
I could ignore it if it was a crazy thing, except she isn't. She is meant to be a bot on a mission of revenge and wanting to be alive at the end.
Revenge; to kill the bots that killed her parents. Fair, solid. Would be fine if she hadn't failed, either the events of the prom fight impacted her so much that her eye has turned yellow or other internal weird things which quickly leads to.
Wanting to be alive; why would she be looking for a cure otherwise. Also very fine but she probably shouldn't have gone all power crazy in the first place cause where would she go afterwards.
Granted with bot logic of these people will forget what bad thing you did so you can come back and live with them.
Buuut, she still hasn't done point one, revenge. Which has to use her power to do so. And she made an indirect attempt in ep 6 for the dingos to do it.
My only thought on her plan for the later episodes is simply.
Find the source of the power to be able to continue to use it, so find Cyn and find out how to fix it to save her life.
She has no other path than that. And it isn't going to work out for her, not if Cyn values the others over a random drone with solver that she is trying to get rid of or assimilate. For whatever reasons. Well assimilation makes some sense...
Now on to some of the weird story choices in her own plans.
Point one
Her plan to get V into Prom. Murder other bots who would have family that missed them.
Weird, you could have just found her outside or added in some steps to make sure the other disassembly bot wouldn't be included. Or I don't know just used Lizzy to continue to befriend her and get her where you needed without involving everyone else.
But no, an over the top plan to kill a bunch of teens to then get your chance to get revenge. But it was meant to fit with Carrie/prom murder so a bit of a pass for style.
Point two
She didn't need to run ahead of the others at the lab unless she knew something and needed to be alone for it for some reason. Still weird hopefully we will find out about that real quick but I doubt Cyn is there so I have no idea why she wanted to get there besides the cure but again she could have taken Uzi to keep her promise. Buut she still hasn't done revenge. Unless she has given up on that, ehhh.
Point three
She promised to help Uzi when she found out about her having solver, how sweet and that should mean that she will team up with Uzi to find out everything. Right?
No, she leaves Uzi behind, for dead with the dingos to be killed with the others whiiile she was in the middle of the power freaking out. She tells her goodbye with a salute.
Something about this doesn't sit well for me, I very much doubt we will get an explanation considering we haven't so far with other things.
Again I like her, I don't like how she has been used in the story at least with so little.
I am just so confused with her, I would like to chuck that up to limited story time and I can't blame the show writers for that. I should be glad to have her at all. But writing a character is hard if you don't know what they want or what goals they got. There is a lot of that in the series with more characters then Doll.
With her having nothing as a part of the story, I can't imagine she will live for much longer. I imagine she will be used as a warning for Uzi about continuing down the path she has or about usage of solver. While giving Uzi a single clue to continue on, in whichever direction.
The fan writers out there can only guess a path and try to stick with it till something is revealed. Then cry and try again to rewrite it.
Anyone else out there that is worried about this, I say just make a version with your best guess. Still make whatever you want with some wiggle room..
#murder drones#murder drones thoughts after ep 6#mimic's words#murder drones fanfic#writing problems
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Tis the Season
So, this isn't late or anything, not at all. Oops. In all seriousness, happy holidays, and to celebrate, here's a Christmas themed chapter for you.
Rating: T
Warnings: Mild innuendo and not so mild language
“Mom! Dad! Come on, wake up!” A weight that was paired with a very excited voice made it into your bedroom that morning, pulling you away from a lovely deep sleep. After raising your head and groggily blinking a few times, you see that Jack is the perpetrator, but you can’t find it in yourself to get annoyed with him. It’s Christmas morning after all, and it’s your son’s favorite day of the year.
“Jack, give us a minute. We were up half the night wrapping presents,” you yawn, giving him a half-truth. You’d definitely been up most of the night, but it wasn’t to do any last minute wrapping; you’d finished that early enough.
“Still, hurry up! Aunt Aurora made cinnamon rolls, and she said they’re going to get cold soon,” Jack enthuses as he finally exits the bedroom. You hear his feet run down the hall before disappearing, presumably to rejoin Aurora in the living room with the tree and presents.
“How much sugar did Aurora give him?” Onceler wonders as he sits up and stretches. “He’s never got this much energy in the mornings.”
“It's not sugar,” you mumble through a stretch of your own. “It's Christmas. He's always this excited on Christmas. Honestly, I cherish it because I don't know how many more he's got in him before he turns into a jaded and moody teenager.” You stumble out of the bed and make your way over to the dresser, pulling out a blue sweater and white sweatpants, glad that you'd gotten them ready the day before. You change into them, still half-asleep.
“You alright, darling? You've been exhausted lately,” Onceler notes, concern flooding his tone as he changes into comfortable loungewear of his own. You manage to throw a tired smile in his direction.
“It's just the holidays,” you evade. “It should get better once Christmas is actually over. Now I don't have to buy anything anymore.”
“Alright,” he backs off, though still with an air of caution. “But if it doesn't, will you promise to go see the doctor? I don't like the idea of you not getting enough sleep?”
You pull him close and give him a quick peck on the lips. “Promise,” you say. “Now, we should probably go downstairs before Jack comes back up here with full intent to murder us.” Without waiting for a response, you take his hand and lead him out of your bedroom, pulling him along to the stairs of your new house.
You'd only moved in a couple months ago, but already this place felt more like home than anywhere you'd ever lived before. It wasn't as big as Onceler's old mansion, but that suited you just fine. That place had been too massive to ever truly feel like home. Here, you felt comfortable, while still having plenty of room for all four of you.
Down the stairs and a few turns sees you in the sitting room, your Christmas tree in one corner and stockings above the fireplace. Jack and Aurora are already here, and your sister wastes no time handing you a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
“To wake you up,” she explains with a smile. You flash her a grateful look before taking a long sip, savoring the way the drink warms your whole body from the inside out. You didn't like coffee and you didn't like to rely on caffeine to keep you awake, so hot chocolate was usually your go-to.
You take a seat on the sofa, and Onceler sits next to you, casually draping an arm around your shoulders. Jack, who's chosen to sit on the floor, has been watching the whole exchange impatiently and is practically vibrating in anticipation. You can't help but smile. While he's always loved Christmas, he hasn't been this excited in a few years, and you have a very good idea as to why this year is different: it's the first Christmas the whole family has been together. You yourself are certainly the happiest you've ever been as well.
“Should I start handing out presents?” Jack asks, inching closer to the base of the tree.
“Not much point in that,” you tell him with a shrug. “Most of those are for you. Why don't you just start opening some and if you come across something that's for one of us you can hand it over?”
Jack needs no further convincing. He tears into his gifts with the kind of enthusiasm only a ten-year-old boy on Christmas can muster. You'd done your best not to go overboard, but restraint had proved difficult for you when you'd been given an unlimited budget thanks to your husband. Christmas wasn't about money, you knew that, and you wanted to ensure Jack knew that as well, but it sure had helped after years of struggling to make ends meet in December.
Still, you didn't want to spoil him too much. You made sure to buy your son things he needed as well as things he wanted. Such as… “Oh good, new basketball shoes!” he shouts gleefully as he rips the paper off the first present he grabs.
“Well, your old ones were falling off your feet,” you point out. “I know these aren't name brand, but they're a bit sturdier. You'll be able to beat them up while you're playing.”
“And if you follow my growth pattern, you'll be needing new shoes every few months soon anyway,” Onceler adds.
“Thank you!” he enthuses as Onceler goes to grab a trash bag for the used wrapping paper.
For the next several minutes, you mostly watch as Jack opens his own present, occasionally interrupted when he comes across one that's not addressed to him and hands it out. Aurora absolutely cackles with glee as she opens your present to her.
“Do you have any idea of the menace you've just unleashed on this town?” she crows as she puts on her new hat, which simply reads “Fuck The Straights.” “You know I'm going to wear this in public, right?”
“Oh, I know you will,” you answer lightly. “But you're enough of a menace already that a hat isn't going to make much of a difference unless you wear it inside Jack's school for whatever reason.”
“Don't give me ideas,” she laughs, eyes sparkling. “Anyway, I think there's still two more left under there. Who are they for, Jack?”
Jack pulls both out. One of them, which is huge and was an absolute bitch to wrap, is for him. The other, which is shaped like a brick, is apparently yours. Jack passes it to you, and it's surprisingly heavy. It's also from your husband.
“Don't worry, I didn't go overboard,” he murmurs into your ear. “And I know it's something you actually want. But we can let Jack open his first.”
You don't have much of a choice on that score. Jack has already started tearing into his last present, his face lighting up more by the second as he sees what it is.
“No way! I got a guitar?!” he shrieks in delight. He opens the case carefully, in stark contrast to his unbridled, feral enthusiasm when actually taking the wrapping paper off. Once the case is open, he picks up his new, dark blue guitar out of the case and looks at it with something close to reverence.
“We figured you deserved your own with how much you've been playing mine,” Onceler says casually enough, but his face is beaming with pride. They had bonded over their mutual love of music, and it always made your heart swell to hear them playing together.
Now, there was only one present left, and it was the one on your lap. The room looks at you expectantly, so you quickly take the paper off. And in your hands sits a beautiful, embossed copy of all of Jane Austen's works. It had been something you'd mentioned an offhand interest in to Onceler when out shopping for Jack, and he'd clearly remembered.
“Thank you, love,” you smile as you lean over and kiss him briefly.
“I think that's it,” Jack comments as he searches under the branches for anything he might have missed. After a moment, you decide the time is right for you to speak up.
“Jack, there's an envelope in the tree,” you say, trying your best to keep your tone as light as possible.
Jack finds and grabs the envelope immediately. “It's for Dad, from Mom,” he announces. Onceler raises his eyebrow at you, but when you're not forthcoming with any further information, he takes the envelope from Jack, dragging his finger through the top to open it, and spilling its lone parcel into his palm.
His face instantly goes slack and drains of all color. His mouth makes motions like it's trying to form words, but no sounds are coming out. Finally, he looks over at you, his eyes misty. “Really?” he manages to breathe out. You simply nod, beaming yourself at this point.
“What is it?” Jack demands. At his words, Onceler simply shows him and Aurora what's in his hand: the positive pregnancy test you'd taken five days ago.
“We're having another baby?” he whispers as Jack and Aurora stare at the pregnancy test, Jack in astonishment, Aurora in amusement and satisfaction.
“We're having another baby,” you confirm, and not a second later, his arms are around you, kissing you senseless. You're only too happy to return his kisses.
“Alright!” Aurora calls after a moment, causing you to separate. “Other people want to congratulate you too. As long as this one was actually planned… for the love of God, tell me you actually talked about this one?” You sigh, but nod. You hadn't exactly been actively trying, but you had agreed together that you weren't going to do anything to prevent it.
“I'm going to be a big brother?” Jack asks. You turn to him. His reaction was the one you were the most nervous about. You didn't want him to feel like this new baby was yours and Onceler's chance to “get it right” since Jack's own early years had been so turbulent.
“Yes. Are you okay with that?” you ask apprehensively.
A grin splits his face. “It's awesome when is the baby gonna be here?” he asks eagerly, and you breathe a sigh of relief. There might be issues down the road, but not today. Today, things were allowed to be perfect, and for the first time, all of you could bask in the glow of the prospect of becoming a family of five.
Later that night, when you're settling down to sleep, Onceler turns to you as you're climbing into bed. “Do you think I can do it? Be a good dad, I mean?” he asks quietly.
You reach up to caress his face. “You're already a wonderful father to Jack,” you remind him. “And I know our new baby is going to be so lucky to have you as their dad.”
He pulls you into his chest. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “This means everything to me. There's no greater gift you could have given me, even though I thought I had everything with you and Jack. But now I can't wait to meet our new little one.”
You look up to kiss him once, smiling brightly. “Merry Christmas, love.”
I will be taking a break until the new year, and I might have a new project in the works come January. We'll see. I'll see you then and have a good end of the year.
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Arkhelios Adventures
"It's nice to actually see you in Arkhelios. You're always off at school when I come by."
Melvin Jr Hydes smiled at Theo. It really was nice to see the Bellamy child closest to his own age. Melvin was going to college in a few weeks, so he wasn't sure when the next time he'd see Theo would be. Arkhelios certainly talked about Theo often, and Melvin couldn't resist seeing the infamous demon hybrid for himself.
Of course, Theo had come home with his boyfriend, Adam, who never seemed to be far from his side, as well as Adam's cousin Eero. The three of them joked about magic and Pleasantview and demons, all things that Melvin knew very little about but was interested in learning more about. Soon, he'd be leaving for adventures of his own in the world beyond Arkhelios.
"You're lucky that you get to go to school in Pleasantview," Eero grumbled. "Aunt Edana says we can't transfer from the Arkhelios coven's 'classes' until next year. We're 'helping her keep an eye on them' or something."
"Well, you are," Adam insisted. "She always has a plan for everything. You're there for a reason."
"And that reason is because she can't stand looking at us," Eero shot back. "We're practically the same age, Adam. She raised you and your sister and half-siblings, but when she was given custody of me and Despina, we were the ones who were raised by the coven, not you."
"She was young and just lost your dad," Adam protested. "How many kids could you raise by yourself? It's not like she abandoned you. She's paid for everything you and Despina need and you guys were always at the house."
"Geez, you're overly defensive. She's your mom, not your girlfriend."
"You wouldn't know what having a mom is like, considering yours died in a cult that was trying to sacrifice you to the Grim Reaper!" Adam snapped, only to regret his words when he saw the look on his cousin's face. "Shit, I'm sorry, Eero. That was uncalled for. I don't know why i said that. My mom did the best she could for you guys, that's all I meant."
"So, the kids are behaving, Theo hasn't said anything snarky since he got home, and dinner was great. I think we should celebrate."
Abe took his husband in his arms, swaying to the music of the stereo that the teens were blasting to muffle their conversations.
"I agree," Abe murmured, spinning his husband around when the song sped up. "Things may finally be settling down. At this rate, we may be able to go on a date if we wanted. Imagine leaving the house for something other than groceries, work and pediatric check ups. It's unthinkable."
"That sounds wonderful," Roman agreed, nuzzling into Abe's shoulder. "A real date, for grown-ups only. A bar maybe. It's been ages since I've been drunk in public, staggering my way back home."
"You're only twenty-nine once. You have to live a little before you hit thirty."
"Oh, trust me, I've lived plenty," Roman laughed. "Having a kid at sixteen and murderous mother will do that to you. I'm so glad that you're still here beside me after all these years."
"Me too."
"So, uh, Melvin. What are you taking in college?" Adam asked, awkwardly changing the subject.
Melvin shrugged.
"My dad wants me to take police foundations and follow the family business," he replied. "I'm not so sure that that's for me though. I'll see what I like when I get there. I applied for philosophy. Whatever I end up studying, I'm sure it will be something that I'm just as passionate about as he is policing."
"Hey, the kids are asleep, and Theo seems to be pretty distracted with his friends. I might, uh, retire to the bedroom for a bit, if you wanted to come with me," Roman offered, kissing his husband passionately.
Abe smiled against Roman's lips and nodded.
"That sounds like a great idea."
#arkhelios#roman bellamy#abe chun#sim: theo bellamy#theo bellamy#adam darktide#Eero Darktide#arkhelios adventures#melvin Jr Hydes#AbeRo not being toxic for once
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