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tonycries · 2 months

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One More? Please? - G.S.

Synopsis. A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, coworkers to lovers, being stuck in that damn box, oral (female), mutual másturbation, spitting, fáce-sítting, máting press, Satoru is down bad for you, chóking, overstim, multiple rounds, créampie, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. Happy belated two months to this blog! Concept inspired by this post by @kingkonoha.

“Maybe we should kiss and see if the box opens?”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

“Hey- it works in the movies! True love’s kiss and all-”

You heave out a heavy sigh that makes even the skeleton at your shoulder shake its head in pity. Goddamn, if these curses weren’t going to kill him then you will.

“I take it back. That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

Satoru hooks a thumb over his blindfold to gaze at you with mock seriousness. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - and how you were teetering dangerously close to a stroke with each dramatic bat of his long lashes.

“C’monnn~” he whines, with the flair of someone that was not sealed in an inescapable prison, “Don’t tell me that in all these years you’ve never once been at least a little tempted to kiss me, sweetheart.”

“I’d rather kiss that dusty skull.” Shooting him a pointed look that makes even the skulls at your feet recoil. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that you were trapped. In the prison realm. With Gojo Satoru of all people. Possibly forever.

Shit, is this karma for all those times you ditched Satoru with Nanami instead of dealing with him yourself?

Now, Satoru might be going about it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but just a few minutes ago when his life flashed before his very eyes at the mere sight of Suguru - or at least, the monster wearing his body - he’d expected some of his favorite memories to be the ones with you in it.

You - his lil’ coworker - in all your gorgeous, smart-mouthed glory. And maybe if he was lucky, he even expected a couple glimpses of you in his future. Preferably with a giant rock on your finger.

But that’s a story for another time, what he certainly did not expect was for your stupidly heroic (and quite beautiful) ass to jump right in the middle of the prison realm’s ensnarement.

Although, honestly, right now he doesn’t think he’d want to be locked up in here with anyone but you - and that withering glare you send him.

Undeterred, Satoru has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh. A sound you’ve come to realize over the years, as innocent as it sounds, does not bode well for you or your sanity.

A sanity that’s been slowly dwindling since your first day of meeting Satoru. Back then, a brash, cocky new teacher that waltzed into the halls of Jujutsu Tech in those pretentious sunglasses like he owned the place.

Well, not that he was any different right now. Lounging over some disgruntled skeletons, you half-expected him to pull out a deck chair and start sunbathing amidst the bones. Your begrudging coworker - and occasional bane of your existence - seemed right at home.

You, however, were decidedly not having the time of your life.

“I swear, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you grumble, wincing at the bones prodding you from almost every angle.

“Can you blame me?” he hums, now fully tugging down his blindfold to hang around his neck, “It’s not every day I get to spend quality time with my favorite person in the world.”

You scoff, strangely self-conscious as those striking blue sweep your figure from head to toe. “Lucky me. Well why don’t you spend this quality time helping me figure out how the hell we can get out of here.”

“I already told y-”

“Anything but that.”

With a sulky huff, Satoru peers down at you, “Then we just wait till someone gets us out of here. I’m sure Megumi-chan is just tearing his emo hair out trying to unseal this thing.”

“...”

“You’re absolutely correct, Yuji then. Or…” he tilts his head towards a sad pile of bones, “We end up like our little friend over there. Though I’d make a far better looking skeleton-”

You don’t hear the rest of Satoru’s rant over the small noise of concern that falls from your lips. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach at the fact that yes you really were stuck in the prison realm with Gojo Satoru. Possibly forever. And no this wasn’t some strange dream like when you and Shoko accidentally raided the wrong brownie box in the kitchen.

Shit.

And perhaps it showed on your face, because you’re jolted out of your reverie by warm fingers intertwining with yours. Grounding. Satoru’s eyes now searching yours with an intensity that made you squirm uncomfortably.

“Hey, we’ll figure this out, okay?” he mutters softly. “Remember that time we accidentally set the training ground on fire?” leaning in closer now, “Or that mission we got chased by that cursed vending machine?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, and then you nearly got us killed trying to order a sweet tea. ”

Satoru chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “See? It worked out, didn’t it? It always does, sweetheart.”

And if your heart does a strange little lurch, well, then you just blame it on the femur jabbing into your side.

All is quiet in your little hell. That is, until.

“Hey, Satoru…does kissing really work in the movies?”

You barely catch the way Satoru’s breath hitches ever-so-slightly as he leans in closer. eyes sparkling with mischief. And oh you knew that look - one that was usually accompanied by a lecture by Yaga, one that sent shivers down your spine. He grins, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, hm?”

Embarrassment and amusement bubbles inside you, tumbling out in the form of a barely-audible, “A peck. One.”

“Awww. Eight?”’

“No.”

“Five?”

“Satoru.”

Minty breath fanning your face, “Okay okay, one peck and a kiss to your forehead. C’mon, it’s a bargain~”

Pinching your nose, you sigh out a weary, “This is so stupid. Fine, but if it doesn’t work then I’m strangling you.”

And it’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.

Soft. Satoru’s lips were so soft. And he tasted so unfairly of caramel apples and sweet, sweet mischief. Just like him. Feather-light and fleeting - yet the kiss burns into your brain with an intensity that you strangely didn’t mind.

It’s over before you know it. The cold air hits your lips as Satoru’s words ring in your ears, a disappointed little, “Aw, that didn’t work.”

Barely even risking a glance at the still very sealed realm, your body reacts before your mind - the expensive cotton of his uniform collar soft against your fingers as you pull Satoru towards you with a sense of urgency you can’t quite explain.

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you because shit this is all that Satoru’s been dreaming about since he turned 23 and suddenly realized that oh you were frighteningly everything that he ever wanted.

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, breathless against his lips.

“Shhhh, my girl. One more. Didn’t work.”

His lips are searing on yours. Urgent and greedy, because fuck if it took getting trapped in the prison realm to finally kiss you then God knows when he’ll be able to again.

Which is why he breathes you in like he doesn’t have enough time, and probably never will - even in this godforsaken box where time never passes.

“Shit. O-one more.”

Drinking in your sweet gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were. Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to squeeze your ass - and everything in between.

Pulling away ever-so-slightly with a playful bite to your bottom lip, he leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The disappointed whine that leaves your pretty mouth makes all the blood in Satoru’s body rush to his cock.

“Sweetheart.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. “Y’think I kissed the wrong lips?”

Oh?

Satoru’s words send a jolt of electricity running down your spine - all the way down to your heated cunt. “W-what?” you managed to choke out, cheeks flaring as he raises his eyes to meet yours and-

Oh.

Oh, shit. If the curses weren’t going to kill you then Satoru sure might.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Satoru carefully jostling the two of you so that he’s lying on his back, your body manhandled to straddle his pretty face.

“Satoru, when you mean ‘wrong lips’...here?” you trail off, still reeling from him and the abrupt change in position and him.

“Exactly what I mean,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating beneath your dripping cunt. “Now, spread ‘em wider f’me. Let me taste you- Need it s’bad.”

Body moving as if on autopilot, your knees part wider to let him greedily take in the sight of your soaked panties. Beads of slick seeping through the thin fabric each time his hot breath meets your cunt.

But not for long - the cool air hits you before you realize what’s happening. Because Satoru is ripping your flimsy panties off with one hand. Throwing it behind to God-knows-where with the urgency of a madman.

“Shit, so wet f’me already.” he groans, mouth watering at the obscene sight of you clenching around nothing. “S’gorgeous. You really are perfect everywhere, huh?” he mutters through lazy, languid kisses along your thighs. Tongue darting out just so to leisurely trace circles along the heated skin.

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, the stretch nothing with the two long fingers spreading your swollen folds apart. Your face burns from just how adoring Satoru looks below you.

You buck into his touch, “Hngh- Please. Wan’ your mouth on me.”

And perhaps the great Gojo Satoru decided to be merciful for once in his life, because without another word, he’s surging forward. Tongue flicking out to tease your sloppy entrance, pooling your juices before tipping his head back, back, back to let it slide down his throat so sinfully.

Shit, Satoru could just cum in his pants right now, of course you taste heavenly. Better than he could’ve ever imagined on any lonely night.

You shudder as he flattens his tongue across your folds, sliding teasingly between them, grazing your swollen clit just barely at an unhurried rhythm that almost has Satoru forgetting where he was. But quite frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he hums around your clit, the vibrations making you squeal. Sucking gently, tongue rolling harshly against your bundle of nerves, over and over- “Cause it’s what I’ve been wanting for years.”

The words ring in your ears almost as much as the lewd squelches below. Years?

“F-fuck- feels hngh- What do you mean y-years, Satoru?”

Oh, Satoru thinks he could pass out just at the way you whine out his name so prettily. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a hand hastily snaking down to unbuckle his pants. “Mhmm~ Couldn’t go a day without sparring with you where I didn’t think of bending you over and tasting you right there y’know.”

Your eyes snap down to meet Satoru’s hazy, half-lidded ones. Something dark and feral shining within them. And right now, thighs wrapped around his head, you don’t think he’s ever looked happier. White locks splayed out, a fucked-out expression on his face as his tongue bullies past your folds, you could feel the slight smile curling his lips against you.

It’s overwhelming - both his confession and the way Satoru was making out with your cunt like a man starved.

Nose-deep in your pussy, tongue alternating between its abuse on your throbbing clit and dipping in and out of your sloppy hole at a maddening pace. Mouth only speeding up ruthlessly at the way you convulse and grind involuntarily on top of him.

God, Satoru was going insane at the way your walls were sucking him up so good, clamping down with each push of his tongue.

“Shit- made jus’ f’me. You like that, don’t you?” he growls against your cunt, voice hoarse with desire. “Like fucking my face with your pussy?”

“Oh! Ngh, yes Satoru- L-love it-”

A bruising grip on your hips, encouraging you to rock against his face. Harder. Tongue more desperate. He couldn’t get enough. Meeting your every grind, tongue lapping at your cunt so obscenely.

Breaths ragged and hot against your cunt, drinking you in with the desperation of a man that wouldn’t mind giving up air for your essence. And it was Satoru - of course he wouldn’t mind.

Especially with the large hand snaking up your thigh, going from drawing reassuring patterns at your hips to rubbing tight, little circles on your pulsing clit. Hasty, and urgent - like he had no time to waste. “Tha’s right, my girl. Give it up for me,”

Every cell in your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure at the way Satoru plays your body like an instrument.

“M’close, Satoru- Hah- s’close.” you moan breathlessly, a hand tangling in his soft strands. Using it as leverage to ride Satoru’s pretty face just the way you like it.

But you didn’t have to - because Satoru seems to already know exactly what to do. Exactly how to quirk his tongue just right to brush against all your most sensitive spots. Exactly how to match the rhythm of his abuse on your clit to the way he was tonguefucking you into delirium. Exactly how to look at you with such a hungry expression that devours you almost as much as his mouth.

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.”

Satoru didn’t even have to ask. Because you’re cumming with a strangled gasp of his name. White-hot pleasure coursing through you like lightning, body trembling as you cum all over Satoru’s pretty face.

Hands moving your limp, boneless hips across his face, forcing you to ride out peak after peak on his red lips.

As the blood roaring in your ears bates, and you blink back your vision, the first thing you see are those familiar blue eyes gazing up at you. Holding you steady, lips brushing gentle kisses along your inner thighs.

Oh, how beautiful he was like this.

“S-S’toru?” you mewl, still sensitive from your orgasm as Satoru shifts underneath you to sit you prettily in his lap.

“Mhm?” he nuzzles your neck.

“One more. It didn’t work.”

Oh, if you knew the only way to shut up Gojo Satoru was to say something like this then you would’ve done it a lot sooner.

But Satoru’s stunned silence doesn’t last for long, because he grins, low and sultry, “You’re right. It didn’t work.”

The metallic clinking of a belt echoes in the stuffy chamber as Satoru hastily pushes down his pants. Cock springing free to hit his lower abs, “What a shame.”

You blink at the sheer size of him - he was going to split you in two. It was unfair, really. Water is wet. Gojo Satoru has a big dick.

But oh was he pretty - so pretty. Prominent veins glistening in the dim lighting, fat tip flushed your favorite shade of delicate pink, leaking furiously in between your thighs.

Gulping, you reach out to wrap your hand around his achingly hard cock. So warm and heavy in your hands. “Y-yeah, what a shame.”

Both of you watch - entranced - at the way he twitches in your grasp at the mere sound of your voice. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! against your palm as you begin pumping him slowly - so agonizingly slow.

“Oh- Feel s’good, sweetheart.” Satoru hisses lowly as you swipe at the precum beading at this head. Thumbing teasingly under his sensitive slit, tracing delicately along his veins.

And by God does it do something to you to see the great Gojo Satoru falling apart for you, hair tousled, lips kiss-bitten, and eyes looking at you like he wanted to positively eat you alive. It made your cunt throb so desperately, slick forming a dark wet patch on his trousers.

Not one to be left behind, his long fingers deftly snake down to your dripping cunt. Not wasting any time before bullying his fingertips past your swollen folds, curling expertly to press down against that one spot that has your fist faltering on his cock. Hard.

Pretty little moans left your lips at the way Satoru so easily matches your pace. Thrusting knuckle-deep into your pussy in and out - hitting that spot over and over.

“Shit, Toru- s’deep inside me. I’m- hngh-”

Satoru was in heaven, really. You were so warm and wet around both his fingers and his throbbing cock.

Only two thoughts running through his mind right now - 1. He was right, your hands were softer and more sinfully delicious around his swollen cock. And 2. The hardest battle he’s ever fought was probably right now - at your mercy, trying not to spill all over your hands because he’d be damned if he finally scored the girl and came in two seconds.

Shit, he thinks fingers almost erratic now, he needs you to cum. Right now.

As if sensing his urgency, your moves become more frantic, Satoru’s brows furrowing at the way you increase your pace. His hips twitch, as if trying to thrust into your fist. matching your pace as you start stroking him harder, faster.

Ah, but alas, the great Gojo Satoru’s reputation precedes him.

“Oh, fuck- M’gonna-” And soon enough, you’re seeing stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - as you cum. Hard.

Body moving before your mind, you’re clenching around Satoru’s fingers, grinding down so ferally as you edge him closer and closer. “C’mon, Toru. One more, right?” you whisper brokenly, lips ghosting his ear.

Breath coming in short, strained gasps of what sounded like your name now, “Oh- fuck ngh- so close.” he warns, voice hoarse. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

You smirk, raising a brow, “Is that a threat, Satoru?”

Willing his fucked-out eyes open, they bore into yours as he utters, “No, ah- it’s a p-promise.”

Without warning, Satoru clasps your wrists, forcing you to stop pumping him. The disappointed mewl threatening to spill from your lips is cut off just as your back hits the ground.

Slam!

You think you could almost get whiplash from how swiftly Satoru had you caged and splayed out so shamefully beneath him.

You whine, “But you didn’t even get to-”

“Fuck, not now. Gotta feel you or else m’gonna cum so embarrassingly all over your fist.” He rests his throbbing erection laid out so enticingly across your stomach, leaking hot precum onto your skin. And that makes you shut up, eyes mapping where it ended and realizing that yeah, you might’ve faced more mercy with the curses outside of this box. “Besides. One more, right?”

And before you can respond, Satoru’s spitting on you once. Twice. Thrice.

You flinch as the wads of saliva hit your dripping cunt, mixing with your slick so obscenely as Satoru smears it across your swollen folds. Your mouth drops into a soft oh! of disbelief as he promptly pops his thumb into his mouth, groaning at the taste.

“Shit.” Satoru hisses lowly, “One more might just not be enough.”

Not wasting a moment longer, he’s bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your plush walls desperately try to accommodate his size.

“Oh. Oh shit hah- should’ve been locked up here ngh- sooner.” he groans, words straight from his cock. “Feel s’heavenly around m-me.” Because God Satoru thinks he wouldn’t even mind staying here for the rest of his life if it meant he got to have you like this.

You moan at the positively delicious stretch of your pussy, plush walls unable to decide between pushing him out and milking the soul out of him. “Hah- Toru s’too big. I can’t-”

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed as he focuses on letting you adjust. Pressing inch by fucking inch. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fights that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy till his tip kisses your cervix, and you’re drunk on nothing but his cock.

But he didn’t have to - because you’re immediately wrapping your legs around his toned waist, pulling Satoru to you recklessly until his heavy balls smack your ass. Tufts of snowy white hair - already so wet with your slick and his precum - finally meeting your cunt.

“Ah! Shit, s’full Toru.” you keen, body bowing into his.

There’s not even a hair's breadth between your bodies now as Satoru chuckles darkly. “You little minx. Thought you couldn’t handle me, but you really wanted to be split apart on my cock, huh?”

You feel almost shy under his gaze as you mumble out a quiet little, “Well you did say one more.”

Ah, Satoru thinks deliriously, if you aren’t Mrs. Gojo by the time you two get out of this then there’s seriously something wrong with him.

But he doesn’t tell you that. Instead with a satisfied smirk, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, sucking your tongue so lewdly as he did with your cunt. Parting for only a second before pressing his lips to yours again. And again. And again, as if it hurt to part.

“Mhm. Always wanted to do this, sweetheart.” he hums against your pretty lips. “Fuck ever since you hah- walked in on that first day.”

Kissing you sweetly with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as pulls back, back, back. All the way till his angry, hard tip was just grazing your sloppy entrance. “One more.”

Body moving before his mind, his hips start fucking into your dripping cunt recklessly. Satoru doesn’t fuck you with the finesse he imagined he would all these years, rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and all the desperation from these last few years.

In one, fluid movement, the burn of the stretch hits you before the realization that Satoru has thrown your legs over his sculpted shoulders.

“Ah- So good, Toru. Oh my god- hah-” you mewl at the change in angle. His pulsing dick expertly hitting that one spot inside you which has your words slurring together, body arching off the floor to press so impossibly close against him.

And, well, Satoru isn’t any better - because he’s slamming his cock into you mindlessly. Hitting that spot over and over.

With one hand, he caresses your stomach. Whispering out a ragged, “Feel me inside? Feel me right…” Pressing his palm down hard, “Here.”

The other forces you to look up at him, drinking in your whines of “Yes yes yes, can feel you s-so deep hngh- inside me, Toru.”

You’re so cockdrunk and full of Satoru that you barely notice the hands groping their way down your body. Catching harshly on your swollen clit, starting to draw, quick, frenzied circles that match the cadence of his hips smacking into yours.

“Look at me.” he murmurs raspily, “Open your mouth.”

And you can do nothing but take it, tongue lolling out so lewdly for the warm stream of spit that hits it. Once. Twice.

You look up at him with teary eyes, as you take it all - anything and everything he was giving. And it makes Satoru bow his head with a fucked-out groan, cock twitching so animalistically as it keeps plunging inside you roughly. Deft fingers on your clit becoming more desperate.

Harder. Faster. Balls squeezing so painfully. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up - and you were going to let thim.

You squeal at the overstimulation, hips bucking up for more more more-

“God, sweetheart, you don’t know what you do to me.” he moans, voice strained with desire and the euphoria of getting everything he’s wanted for so long. It was driving him insane. “Now c’mon. One more. Give me one more like my good girl.”

“Hngh- yes- Toru!”

You don’t even know what “one more” means anymore - all you do know is that you’re cumming and cumming all around Satoru’s unforgiving cock. Walls fluttering so snugly, your body convulses as you cream around his cock. Nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back, Satoru’s name leaving your bruised lips and into the heady air like a prayer every time his tip kisses your cervix. His new favorite melody.

And that seems to be what makes him snap as well - because with a final, sloppy thrust, he’s painting your walls such a sinful white. Pumping thick, hot ropes of his cum into your quivering cunt.

“Shit- yeah, my girl. Take it. Take it all f’me.” Satoru shudders above you, head thrown back, chest heaving as he fucks you through your high. Movements nothing more than shallow, mindless little thrusts to get you both off so animalistically.

It was so fucking filthy - and exactly what you needed so badly. He was exactly what you needed so badly.

Now, Satoru only had to take one look as you use him so obscenely for your pleasure - eyes dazed, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth - before he thinks he might just cum again. And again. And again until he physically couldn’t anymore.

But first…

Pulling out of your heavenly pussy with a lewd pop! His long fingers delicately collects the mixture of slick and cum now gushing out of you obscenely.

Aw, what a waste, Satoru muses as it pools below you sinfully. If it was up to him he wouldn’t waste a single drop from your pretty cunt.

But no matter.

Abruptly, Satoru bullies two fingers into your mouth - forcing you to taste yourself, to taste him. Pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and gagging around him, teary eyes just begging up at him. Perfect - you were so perfect for him.

Kissing your forehead with a tenderness that doesn’t match his actions, he hums, faux innocence lacing his words, “What a shame, the box didn’t open yet.”

And oh does he love the excitement lighting up your exhausted eyes. Pretty thighs twitching underneath him as a slow, fucked-out little smile curls your lips.

“One more? Please?”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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aakeysmash · 3 days

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first meeting: college!sukuna and f!reader

content: smut (degradation, masturbation (feet are involved for f), m oral, light slapping (1), manhandling, spit), a little bit of crack, i love yuuji and he's my metphorical little brother okay (he's 9), reader has siblings because i said so, also bigbro!sukuna

It’s not the sound of the sheets rustling that wakes him up, but an ass pressing on his groin. Not like he can complain about not sleeping much; the pretty moans still reverberating in his skull are a testament to that.

He hears a yawn before feeling two hands searching for his warmth. He lazily obliges and scoots a little bit next to the body he has next to him. He lets these roaming hands touch his body, trying not to cringe. He’s not fond of physical contact if it’s not on his cock, and having someone grab his bicep while sighing dramatically about how strong he feels makes him want to puke. But you’ve got to give ‘em what they want before taking what you want.

He curses in his mind. He broke the first rule: never let a chick sleep in your bed after you fuck her. His head is killing him, the sun entering from his bedroom window making him squint. He must have fallen asleep. He remembers everything from last night: whoever says alcohol makes you forget stuff is just weak. One of the guys he shared the complex he lived in threw a goodbye party since he was moving out, and he wasn’t one to refuse free alcohol. His ex-almost-roommate invited a bunch of people from college, and Sukuna remembers that there were a couple of girls that didn’t stop whispering to each other while looking at him, chuckling behind their hands and blushing. One in particular was pretty, dancing and smiling at everyone before focusing her gaze on Sukuna and never leaving it. A classic. He played her game a bit, and she twirled when he asked her to, acting innocent when he asked her if he could lick salt from between her boobs before taking a shot of tequila. Boobs that turned out to still be salty when he licked and sucked her nipples an hour later, and twirl she did, but this time on his dick, the innocent act all gone. He fucked her like he owned her, and she got fucked like she wanted to be owned by him.

“‘Morning, ‘Kuna,” a whisper in the quiet of his room. Sweet, sweet voice whose hands are now traveling towards his hardening cock. He looks at the clock in front of his bed and makes sure to not roll his eyes too obviously, opting to grab her ass to make the process of riling her up faster. He has to leave for practice in 30 minutes, but a blowjob will do.

His hand travels to her front, expert hands finding her clit immediately. He barely touches it and she trembles in his arms, already panting. So responsive. He smirks. This will take less than he anticipated.

“You’re wet already? You’re such a slut,” he groggily says in her ear. She moans. She likes that shit. His fingers find her opening, making sure to take some of her wetness before focusing on making small little eights on her bundle of nerves. “Spread these legs and shut the fuck up. The whole dorm already knows you’re enjoying yourself, you made sure they heard you last night,” he points out, biting her lobe. She opens her legs like the smart girl she is, and whines every time his middle finger catches on the hood of her sweet button. She babbles something along the lines of so close, so close, but right now he pays it no mind. “Don- don’t you dare stop-” another moan. Sukuna dips both his middle and ring finger in her opening, grinding his palm on her clit, feeling her arch her back against his chest. He knows his stuff: he’s degrading, demanding, evil, but he likes his women pleased thoroughly. Her pussy is squeezing him hard, when he suddenly registers what she said and gets away from her, bored. It’s not the first time some random girl thinks she can make him do whatever she wants just because she made him cum the night before. Which is not even completely true, because he always pulls out, even wearing a condom, and finishes with his hand. There’s no way a bum who lets a stranger fuck her is becoming his baby mama. He’s too young to deal with future college dropouts.

She starts complaining, saying how he’s so mean, ‘Kuna, you’ve been doing this all night, please let me cum, I’ve been so good to you, but Sukuna just manhandles her and gets her on the floor. He seats himself in front of her, grabbing her hair roughly and positioning her head right in front of his standing dick. She yelps, forced to look up at him and his red irises. Her eyelashes flutter, her mouth opens a bit, and she gets wetter. He’s so big and strong, his arm flexing from how he’s making her strain her neck, looking down like a king does not even toward a servant, but toward a roach.

“You’re not going to tell me what I can and can’t do, bitch,” he starts saying, glaring at her menacingly. “And I remember you cumming quite a lot yesterday, actually,” he adds smugly, and she shuts her mouth. She did cum a lot. He never missed the chance to make her scream his name. “Now start sucking, I’ll let you get off on my feet. You should be thanking me, I don’t usually let brats like you stay a second time.”

He then squishes her cheeks with the hand that’s not in her hair, making her pucker her lips. She looks at him with wide eyes, like a deer in the headlights. She’s quite literally hanging off his every word. He’s so sexy. I can’t let him be upset with me, or he won’t let me see him again! I want to be his girl so bad.

“Open up,” he tells her, and she doesn’t need to be told twice. She’s equally aroused and scared. She sticks her tongue out, getting her hands behind her back and her feet under her ass. Obedient little thing. Sukuna goes to spit into her open mouth, but he makes sure to miss and spits on her cheek instead. She flinches, but she doesn’t move.

“Oops,” he grins, then collects his saliva from her face and slips his digits past her lips, choking her with them. “Swallow,” he commands.

“But-” she tries to speak, and he responds by pressing down hard on her tongue and making her gag.

“I said swallow, whore,” he repeats, rougher this time. She makes sure to listen to him, starting to tear up. He gets his fingers out of her mouth and lightly slaps her cheek with that same hand. 20 minutes left.

“Good girl. Now suck this cock,” he orders. She doesn’t miss a beat, bobbing her head up and down. He pushes her head down how he pleases, and she starts grinding on his foot. The only sound that can be heard inside of the room is the obnoxious slurping she’s making to accommodate his length inside her mouth. He’s big, girthy, with a pretty black band on the base she’s never quite reaching, and he tastes good, so good. Almost like yesterday after cumming he scrubbed himself clean in an extra meticulous manner. Almost self deprecating, almost as if he wanted to remove his skin as a whole. Almost as if he regretted fucking a stranger just for the pleasure of it, again. But like most things about him, it’s only ever going to be an almost. Even for himself.

It’s so humiliating, choking on his dick while desperately trying to find relief, but she has to do it. She has to. His imposing aura doesn’t make her do anything that he doesn’t want to be done. Also, sucking the cock of one of the hottest guys on campus is a major turn on for whoever gets to do it, and she’s not passing up the opportunity to tell her friends from her hometown about it. She’s been at this college just two weeks and she already achieved this? They’re not going to believe their ears.

She doesn’t know that she’s not special: he’s known for fucking random girls, but they still flock to him like moths to a flame. Maybe it’s his bad boy aura, or them thinking they could change him, but the only real fact is that he’s still fucking and they’re still getting their hearts broken. Not like he gives a single fuck, anyway. As long as he gets an orgasm out of it.

“Hollow those cheeks,” he grunts, and she obliges. He’s getting bored, her head game isn’t that strong, and at this rate he’s never going to cum in time. He looks at the clock again. He has 5 minutes. This girl is sure taking her sweet time, and he’s pretty sure she already came 2 different times from how wet his foot is feeling and how she’s losing momentum again. Disgusting. Nasty whore.

He concentrates on feeling at least a bit of euphoria, making his orgasm nearer. He’d fuck her throat, but he doesn’t feel like it this morning since his head is still hurting a bit, and whatever he decides to do is law inside of his room. He’s about to nut, and he knows her jaw must be hurting, but it’s not his fault he lasts long. They never complain about it when they’re getting pounded, either. 2 minutes.

Suddenly, someone knocks at his door. He rolls his eyes and ignores it. Then, another three knocks. His eye ticks. Time slows down for him: he sees the girl at his feet widening her eyes and hazily looking up at him. He has a quick realization: he was about to cum and now he’s not going to. Then, a slow one: he’s pissed off because of the quick realization. He acts as if he didn’t hear it, again, and the girl opens her mouth again, but whoever is on the other side must be pretty persistent, because they start knocking and this time they don’t stop.

Now he’s not only pissed off, he’s angry. Who the fuck disturbs him on a Saturday morning?

He scowls, scoffs and then stands up. “I’m fucking coming,” he loudly says. He almost hears someone say fucking finally, but he’s not sure of it. He gives them the benefit of the doubt.

He doesn’t spare the girl on the floor a second glance before getting her out of the way by her hair and putting on a pair of sweatpants. She tumbles, not sitting prettily anymore. She looks disheveled and a bit out of words. He senses she didn’t get the memo since she hasn’t moved from her place. She’s pissing him off, too. He hates dumb bitches.

“Dress yourself up. You have ten seconds before I open this damn door and let whoever the fuck is here see you like this,” he coldly says. She tries to respond, and he loses all his patience.

“Ten, nine, eight…” he starts counting fast. She wobbles over her dress as fast as she can and pulls it on her head, trembling, mascara from last night still on her cheeks, a bit of her spit on her chin. He’s so scary when he’s mad. Sexy, too, but really fucking scary. She finds that she’s not able to look up at him anymore, almost bowing while she brushes her hair with her hands. He’s not a king anymore, he’s a tyrant.

“But ‘Kuna, I thought we-”

He snickers, then stops looking at her again. “Girl, I don’t even remember your name. There’s no us. And stop calling me like that, it’s so fucking annoying.”

She feels like crying. She realizes that the degrading persona in the sheets wasn’t an act, he’s like that in real life too, and she gave it to him like he was special. Like she was special.

He slams the door open and instantly feels a punch on his naked chest. Huh?

“Ew,” you say surprised, jumping back, cleaning your hand on your jeans and making a disgusted face. He raises an eyebrow.

“Ew? Who the fuck are you? What the fuck do you want?” he curses. Who do you think you are?

You stretch your lips, giving his figure a once over. He’s half naked, gray sweatpants low on his hips, very tattooed. A really big contrast with the color of his hair, which is a bright pink. He’s tall, and very strong if his bulging muscles are an indicator of that. You guess he’d look scary if you weren’t slightly upset.

“I’m your new neighbor, if you can call it that. They told me I’d find you here, and I guess I found you,” you tell him trying not to sound too bitter about the fact he so obviously ignored you while you were knocking.

“No shit,” he answers, completely uninterested.

You tell him your name, stretching your hand to shake his. “Hope we can live peacefully for the next couple of years, yeah?” you say, trying (again) to be nice, forcing yourself to smile a little.

He looks at your hand without bothering to extend his, keeping his arms crossed. He looks utterly disgusted. ”Bye,” he says and he goes to turn back inside his room.

This guy is rude. You don’t do well with people who are rude for no reason whatsoever.

“Well then, I would’ve said I’m sorry for accidentally punching you since I was just about to knock again, but I’m more sorry for my hand who touched you,” you remark, not smiling anymore and glaring at him.

He raises his eyebrows. Oh, he really doesn’t like you, and he doesn’t even know who you are. Disturbing his peace and acting entitled? Hell no.

“Be grateful you still have a hand,” he growls, glaring at you just as hard.

“Be grateful I let you know I’m moving in without throwing all your shit out of our bathroom, bitch,” you immediately respond.

He chokes on a laugh.

“Yeah, sure. There’s no way they gave me a girl as a new roommate, stop using excuses. Did we fuck? Are you here to tell me I’m a big meanie for not contacting you again?” He juts his bottom lip out, like he’s mocking a toddler. “Get the fuck out of my face,” he tells you, starting to close the door in your face.

“No, dumbass, I wouldn’t touch you with the hands of another girl, imagine what I’d do with mine. If you don’t get your shit out in 3 minutes you’ll be washing yourself with hand soap,” you wittily remark.

“‘Ku- Sukuna, who’s that?” You hear from the girl inside of his room.

“Oooh, a girl. Is she the one who put the stick up your ass? Pegged you real good huh?” you ask him, fake smiling.

He looks pissed off to the max.

“Shut the fuck up. Both of you. You, get the fuck out of my room,” he says to the scared girl, “You, we’re done talking, I hate pretentious bitches like you,” he adds giving you a disgusted once over.

He doesn’t expect you to just stare at him, though, and it takes him off guard. He’s confused: not everyday someone tests his patience so hard first thing in the morning and even manages to react like nothing happened. It makes him want to murder you and your stupid attitude.

“Bro, you’re like, so fucking annoying. Whatever, little miss princess who orders everyone around and pretends that they should listen, too,” you tell him, unblinking.

Suddenly he’s all up in your face, towering over you, and you have to pretend that your breath doesn’t hitch. Finding yourself two centimeters from someone’s nose was not on your today’s bingo list. Much less if the person in this situation is more than 200 pounds of pure muscles.

“What the fuck did you just call me?” He grits through his teeth. You can smell a bit of a smokey undertone in his breath, like he’s not a big smoker but still a smoker.

You get even closer, effectively touching your nose with his. He might be scary and the fact that he has a pair of tattooed eyes under his real ones is kind of freaking you out, but you’re not going to let a guy step on you on your first day of college. This should be one of the best years of your life, dammit.

“I called you a princess. Is that pissing you off, princess?” You repeat. He goes to shove you away but you’re faster and get away on your own.

“3 minutes, asshole. That’s all you have,” you say while walking toward the room close to his, not looking back. You feel his gaze on your back, and you flip him off before slamming your door closed.

Now alone, you start organizing your stuff to make space for the bed frame that should be arriving in a matter of hours. The lady at the reception told you that you’d have a male “roommate” and you planned on asking him for help, but there’s no way you’re asking anyone anything if they’re that big of an asshole.

You hear a light knock on your door and you almost jump out of your skin, startled, until you hear a foreign voice calling for you.

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

You open the door and almost faint. “Oh my God, he shrinked,” you whine.

The pink haired kid you find yourself facing looks confused.

“Shrinked?” he says pensively. Then he must see how you’re glaring at him kinda meanly, and he gets it. “Oh! You must’ve encountered Sukuna. I’m Yuuji, his brother, nice to meet you,” he clarifies while rubbing behind his ear and smiling gently at you.

You’re so relieved by this piece of information that your demeanor changes radically.

“Well, I must say you two look identical. Minus the fact he’s a total asshole,” you tell him, rolling your eyes and relaxing. He chuckles while nodding, and you keep on rambling. “I’m sorry for not being nice immediately, but it’s been a long day. You know, moving in and all…” you try justifying yourself, smiling sheepishly.

“Sure, I get it. I just wanted to see who’s gonna be here for the next year. If you need a hand with anything don’t hesitate to knock on my door!” he says excitedly. He looks like a softer version of the beast of the man you just came across, and he radiates puppy energy. You can quite literally see his metaphorical tail shaking and his big puppy eyes blinking happily.

“Oh! You live here? I thought this was supposed to be a dorm for college students,” you ask, curious.

“Yeah, because it is. Big bro convinced the principal or whatever to make me stay, though. I wouldn’t have had a home to stay at, anyway,” he shrugs. You widen your eyes: these are not things you tell a stranger about. This kid is either too naive or too used to things like these. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, like this is a recurrent conversation for him. Like it’s basic knowledge for anyone that comes across him and his brother.

“Oh. I’m sorry for- prying?” you try saying, embarrassed, before changing the topic. “My door is always open too, you know. I have siblings, I don’t mind being interrupted from time to time since I’m used to it. Maybe we could play together? What do you like to do in your free time?”.

He looks at you with big brown eyes. He’s serious for three seconds, and he looks older, wiser. You can feel the way you’re starting to sweat, when he breaks out in a big smile.

“I like you. I don’t mind talking about the way I lack a family, but it’s nice when people act interested in more than that, you know? I like-”

“Brat, how many times have I told you to not bother people with your yapping?” you hear a deep voice saying from outside your door. The child in front of you lowers his metaphorical puppy ears, turning to look at whoever called him.

“But she’s nice! She asked me about it!” he responds. You hear footsteps approaching your bedroom.

“Who are you even talking-” Sukuna stops mid sentence, glancing at your still standing form, then raises one side of his upper lip, almost like he’s snarling. You reciprocate with a scoff of your own.

“Her? Nice?” he says mockingly.

“Wouldn’t even have guessed you were brothers by the way he has manners you clearly lack,” you respond, glaring at him. He clenches his jaw and you think he’s trying to reign in his temper in front of his little brother, but that must be your impression, because the next thing he does is get him in the air by his collar. Yuuji trashes a little bit, but Sukuna is too strong, and at one point he just gives up.

“Let’s go. You’re not talking to her anymore,” he says to his mini counterpart, beginning to turn around while dragging him behind his back.

“But she asked me to play with her! Come on, bro, I’m bored when you’re not here,” Yuuji says while pouting. In all of this you just stood next to your open door. You almost pity the little puppy, he genuinely seems like a good kid, and maybe it’s the big sister in you but you’d hate your little brother to be bored and sad while doing nothing.

“If you help me set up my room, we can play aaaall day,” you suddenly say, getting out in the hallway and winking at the smallest of the two. Sukuna stops dragging his little brother and snaps his head toward you.

He narrows his eyes. “You little-”

Yuuji manages to free himself from his brother’s hold and comes running in front of you.

“Deal! Deal!” he responds excitedly, then gets into your room and starts unpacking by himself. You chuckle, then smile to yourself: he makes you miss home.

“If you so much as crumple his shirt, consider yourself a dead woman,” you hear Sukuna’s breath on your neck. Your hairs stand and a shiver runs down your back.

“Sir yes sir,” you say, gulping loudly. It’s not until you hear him walking away that you turn around.

“Yo, big guy, did you manage to free the bathroom from your ugly 3 in 1 body wash?”

He flips you off, then gets out without saying another word.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna jjk #sukuna ryomen #sukuna fic #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna smut #college au #big brother au #sukuna crack #sukuna ryomen smut

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 4 months

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I know that you don't take request right now but I just had to submit this one before I forget it lol. I'm hoping that you'll write it when your requests are open again?

So anyway, reader is ridoc's twin/sister (he's hilarious) and she walks in on someone trying to kill bodhi so she helps bodhi fight him and later takes care of his injury and he falls for her. The following days someone keeps leaving little gifts for her (protective ridoc lol) and reader approaches bodhi to ask what he's doing and he confesses that he likes her

Not exactly like the request but close by and way longer than I thought it would be. So many of you bad missed Bodhi so here we are.

Angel eyes

It truly was luck. Luck and nothing more. You had separated from the girls after your nightly walk. A way you bunch decompressed after a long day of training. It felt better like that. Easier. With no one able to walk in on you chatting. You had stayed out longer after swearing to be careful, simply because the night was warm and you enjoyed nothing more than being able to watch the stars. They reminded you of home. All the people you had left behind.

You had rounded the staircase not longer than an hour later when you heard muffled sounds. Not a lot of cadets followed the curfew hours so at first you brushed it off to someone sneaking around the same way you were. Just the higher you climbed the more it didn’t sound like innocent chatter. No. It sounded as if someone was struggling. The scraping against the rock walls. The pained growls. You pulled the blade from your boot, one that your brother had kindly gifted you. Testing the weight of it in your palm before letting your senses guide you to the noise. It probably wasn’t all that smart to approach something like that alone but something from deep within urged you to.

And there there they were. Two males held Bodhi’s hands while the third one sent punches into his stomach. The sight made you stumble for a moment. Bodhi was a great fighter. You had the honor of being assigned him as a partner on the mats. This felt wrong. They have had to drug him. Used something to weaken his link with Cuir. Blood that soaked the gag now had been the thing that sent you into action.

Using the shadows to your advantage. You crept closer. Sending your brother’s dagger flying. Not stopping to look if it landed the target because you knew that it did. And there was no time to admire your handy work. The less time they had to realize that they weren’t alone anymore the better. Right as the dagger met the guy who’s been punching Bodhi neck, your hands were already around the second male's neck twisting it with a painful crack.

It’s the third guy who instantly backs away from Bodhi, sending his body crumpling to the ground. He’s the one to meet your black eyes. You can feel that he wants to run. That he’s panicking. That he’s petrified because he can’t move. Your power is too deep in his system. “Lucky for you, I need someone to speak about this to”, you step closer to him, “And you will voluntarily do it, won’t you?”, he barely nods, shallow breaths barely hitting his lungs. You smile up at him watching as he tries to do the same but your power seizes his muscles. Making him hit the floor too as he wriggles in soundless spasms.

You turn back to Bodhi, who had crawled to rest against the wall. Hand draped over his middle. You cross the distance in a couple of smooth strides, dropping to your knees. Bodhi instantly flinched trying to pull back. You two weren’t necessarily strangers but you weren’t friends. He was in the ranks up above the group of people you hang out with. But you saw him around, trained at times.

“Let me help”, you muttered, “Can I pull your shirt up?” You caught his gaze, right as he pulled the blood rag from his mouth. His nod was subtle. Easy to miss but you caught it nodding alongside him. Gently pull up the material.

“Shit”, you hissed. The skin was already turned black and blue. They sure didn’t hold back, “You need to… We need to get you to the healers”. A slight panic flickered in your chest. His friends were on patrol tonight too. Meaning you quite literally had no help to call out to. But Bodhi didn’t even nod as he watched you.

“Bodhi, you need to show me that you can hear me, okay?”, you muttered, cupping his cheek with your palm. “I will get you some help”, you nodded at him, looking into the eyes of someone who seemed to look past you now. Cursing beneath your breath you turned around looking at the corridors that stretched out, hoping to find any sort of movement. “Pretty”, the sound was groggy and tired. You halted. “So… pretty”, he breathed out. “What?”, you muttered, your eyes catching his one last time before his body slumped down.

Bodhi felt like his whole body was on fire. At times he was sure that he had died and it was the flames of the underworld liking at his skin. But in flashes of consciousness, there were voices. Muffed ones and unrecognizable. But most importantly there was a girl. One that constantly leaned over him, brushing at his hair. Her cold fingers felt heavenly against Bodhi’s burning skin. And those eyes. Those gorgeous eyes looked down at him. So pretty. So unbelievably pretty.

Quite frankly Bodhi was convinced that whoever his angel was he had dreamed. Hallucinated. Until he had finally been able to get to the main floors. Both Xaden and Garrick were on either side of him. Even if they said that they weren’t worried they had been mother hens to him ever since.

But only a couple of steps in Bodhi halted. A full-body shiver ran through him. It felt like a fever dream all over again. “What is it?”, Garrick gripped Bodhi’s upper arm but he didn’t know. He couldn’t seem to get his words out. “I told you that you should have still stayed in bed, Bodhi, damn”, Xaden stepped in front of his cousin. Bodhi shook his head, pulling at Xaden’s shoulder, “Her”, he breathed.

Both males turned to where Bodhi was pointing, before sharing a look. They had interrogated the one suspect who had been neatly delivered all tied up. But no one knew who had done the handy job because Bodhi’s stories had been well… rather delirious. “What about her?”, Garrick asked, look at the way Bodhi glanced at you as if you had carried the moon and sun. “That’s Ridoc’s sister, Bodhi. Violet’s friend”, Xaden muttered.

Bodhi pulled at their grip, rushing through the crowd. He knew he had seen you before but this. You looked like an angel in his head and now you were here. “You”, he breathed, making you turn your head at the new voice. “Durran, good to see you on your feet”, you shot him a smile. You didn’t want to make a big fuss. No one knew what had happened that night and you preferred it that way. “You were there. I saw you”, he muttered. Your brother raised his eyebrow shooting you a strange look. So much for a secret.

“Come”, you pulled at his hand, wanting to get away from the crowd of people. “Look, I did what I had to”, you breathed as you two rounded the corner of a more secluded area, “If your friend needs help with solving…” but you didn’t get to finish the sentence as two strong arms warped around your shoulder. Your body stiffened for a second. He was hugging you… You slowly raised your arms as well, careful to not hurt him. The bruises on his body still vivid in your head.

“Thank you”, Bodhi breathed, “I thought I had imagined you”. You chuckled, “Most would say that’s quite a nightmare”. Budhi shook his head as he slowly pulled away, “I thought quite the opposite”, he admitted, swallowing thickly, “I thought you were an angel. Your eyes…”, he muttered moving to cup your cheek. You felt your face burning crimson, fighting the urge to look down. “So pretty”, he breathed out.

“Is that what you were referring to back in the corridor when I…”, you frowned. Surely, not. He wouldn’t have noticed that. “Yeah…”, Bodhi breathed, his face growing red as he pulled back, clearing his throat, “Sorry, that’s stupid”. But you caught his wrist, “No, it’s sweet. No had ever thought that they were… well… pretty”. Your eyes locked and for a moment you two just stood in silence. “Can we meet up sometime?”, Bodhi breathed after a moment. You chuckled, “Sure, if you’re not scared that my brother will kill you with a fork”, you nodded towards the table where Ridoc had unfortunately seen you two talk. So much for a secluded spot. Bodhi huffed, “I think, I can handle a fork”.

#bodhi durran #bodhi durran imagine #bodhi durran x reader #bodhi durran x you #bodhi durran x oc #bodhi durran fourth wing #bodhi durran iron flame #bodhi fourth wing x reader #bodhi fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #iron flame x reader #iron flame imagine

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yandereunsolved · 2 months

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Hii Im not sure if youre taking requests rn but if you have the time I would love for a yandere Kit Walker hc set or a yandere post death Kyle Spencer fic where the reader tries to leave him at Misty’s :)

The Honey In My Honeycomb - ,, yandere Kit Walker pre and post Asylum

tw(s): yandere themes, mentions of baby trapping, mention of murder of child(ren), descriptive gore

♡ It all started out like a cheesy romance movie. Your car broke down, and Kit just happened to be driving by. He fixed your car and invited you back to his shop. He ended up changing your oil and tires for free. It evolved into the two of you dating shortly after. You never saw the warning signs—none of them. You never saw through Kit's honeyed words and his charming smile. You would have been better off if you just listened to that tiny voice in the back of your mind telling you to run while you still could.

♡ You were stuck at his shop all day. He had gone home to retrieve some tools and never came back. You got worried that something may have happened to him. You weren't prepared for the gory scene you found. A trail of blood led to your bedroom, where you found Kit passed out near the mutilated corpse of a woman. Your clothes were thrown all around him, and he was cuddling them in his sleep. You freaked out and shrieked, which woke him up. He desperately tried to explain it to you. He pleaded with you to just listen to him. You didn't. You ran and reported him to the police. A part of your mind did want to believe him. The more time that passed, the more you believed in his innocence. Only you were wrong. He did murder all those people that he was accused of killing—over fifteen. He did it all for you. That is the secret he will take to the grave with him.

♡ He was put in Briarcliff Asylum while awaiting his trial. You were allowed to visit him, although it terrified you. You had heard such bloodcurdling stories about that place from the few patients that had survived it. Your visits with him always had to be monitored. Sometimes, though, no one would. That confused you, but you never verbalized it. Kit just threatened to kill the nuns if they interrupted your time with him. All of the nuns thought he must have been possessed by some lust devil. He just could never seem to get enough of you. Day and night, the only thing that came out of his mouth was praise about you—how pretty you looked, how vulnerable you were, how he had to protect you from the vile world that threatened to taint your purity.

♡ It was irritating, really. Protecting your visage wasn't easy when so many people tried to interrupt him. He had to get rid of Grace. It was really her fault. She just shouldn't have been flirting with him. She shouldn't have tried to come onto him. She shouldn't have ignored his warnings. He said multiple times that he was a man who was happily dating such a beautiful thing as yourself. Grace just didn't seem to listen to that. She even had the gall to interrupt one of your meetings with each other. He was in the middle of showing you how much he missed you. That was the last straw.

He made it seem like it was Doctor Arden's fault with a botched sterilization. He can clean that up himself. He's a big boy, and Kit isn't helping. He can't make himself look guilty in any way, of course. He could never let you know how much of a monster he really was.

♡ He has kept a ring in his pocket since the day he met you. The ring belonged to his grandfather. It's practically a family heirloom. He so desperately wants to put it on your finger. He just wants everyone to know that you belong to him—his darlin', his one and only. The thing is extremely shiny, too. It'd look so good on your hand.

♡ That's not the only jewelry he has for you. He has a lot more tucked away in his trusty, rusty old red tool box. He stole all of it from the people he killed for you. He plans on giving it all to you as wedding gifts. He'll fix all of the pieces, of course. He'll wipe the blood away and make sure none of it stains your beautiful figure. He also stole their money from their bank accounts. He has more than enough to keep you both financially stable until you die. He would never let his little house spouse work with some other man. The thought of it just makes his hand itch to reach for an axe.

♡ He fantasizes about what your wedding would look like. You'd look like a god(dess) walking down the aisle toward him. You wouldn't need anyone but him and the priest. He would kill the priest after. You wouldn't know that. It's just that he can't let anybody see such a holy sight except for him. He wouldn't want to risk somebody making an off comment or lusting over your figure.

Your body is yours and yours alone. It's also his, if you'll allow him to have it.

He can't wait till the wedding night. He has it all planned out. After your dinner, you'll both bathe together. He'll set the mood. You both will have each other for the first time in marriage. It's something that makes his mouth water when he thinks about it.

♡ If you can get pregnant... He will immediately try for a baby with you. He just thinks your belly would look so adorable swollen up with a mixture of you and him. You'd be completely dependent on him. You wouldn't be able to leave, and he'd be the best father to your children. Not to mention, he can teach them how to be protective of you. It'll be absolutely perfect! You'll have no way to escape!

♡ If you are unable to get pregnant... Kit doesn't want you to worry. He'll just pick a random kid off the street if he needs to. He'll kidnap a baby from the hospital and say he adopted them. He could go the legal route for adoption as well, if that would better please you. Anything to keep you with him until you both die in each other's arms.

♡ He ideally wants anywhere from two to five kids. He's always wanted one girl and one boy. He'd ultimately want five because you'd never leave him all alone with five children. Sure, you could run off with two, three, and a slim chance of four, but five? No. You have absolutely no chance of escaping him, then. Unless you wanted to abandon them and him, that is. That's fine! He'll just threaten their lives. He'll kill one of them if it convinces you to stay. There are no lengths he wouldn't go to to prove his unending love for you.

♡ He already has your shared casket picked out. He picked it out within the first week of both of you dating. He's already written both of your wills with your future children in mind. He has the plot of land picked out and everything. He may not be a rich man, but he'd spend every penny he has to make sure your shared resting place is envious to the heavens.

♡ The day he is released is a day that will live in infamy within his mind. He finally knew that he had to tie you to him, both literally and figuratively. He understood how fickle humanity is. He needs to save you from the dangers and trauma he faced while in there. The same Kit that came into the asylum isn't the same one that came out. He's a lot more open about his obsessive and possessive tendencies. That crazed look in his hazel irises isn't clouded by his sweet and homey nature anymore. You could see it; you can see it now. You couldn't escape.

♡ He doesn't allow you to leave the house for the first few months. If you try to escape, then it'll be even longer before he allows you to roam free without many restraints. You are trapped within a prison of his own desire. He gaslights you into believing it's for the best. You know how dangerous the world is out there. He's been through the asylum. He knows. He just wants to protect you. Can't you see that? He's traumatized and wants to protect you from that trauma. So that means locking you away in your shared house and keeping you there. Don't worry about boredom. Kit will buy you anything that will make a smile appear on your features. He's addicted to it. You have no shortage of books and other trinkets to keep you entertained while he is out working. Just not anything that you could use to communicate with people. The last thing he needs is you getting that silly little idea in your head to call the police on him.

♡ After about a year in captivity, assuming you haven't made numerous escape attempts, he'll propose to you and allow you to take short excursions with him. The wedding is just as he thought. It's just you, him, and the priest in the middle of the woods, only a few miles from your shared house. You may not have any guests or family, and he may have foraged the wedding certificate by signing fake people as witnesses, but your marriage is still real. A piece of paper doesn't define your love for each other. Of course, he murders the priest after. He chopped him up into tiny pieces with his axe, soaked his body in a mixture of chemicals, and then left those pieces of him at the bottom of lakes, rivers, and streams at least twenty miles away from the house. If you ask him what he's doing, he'll simply say that he's doing some spring cleaning. He's just taking out a bunch of old trash, that's all.

♡ Even when you gain more privileges, Kit still always has an eye on you. He's always close to you. He'll give you the illusion of space and privacy if he needs to. If you distance yourself too much from him, then he'll sweet talk you into letting him into your space once again. You don't feel good? It's because you haven't let him make you feel good in a while. You feel depressed because you aren't around him as much. You're isolating yourself from him. That's the problem. The problem is you. He'll be right here when you inevitably crawl back to him. He'll shush you and pepper kisses all along your body. You'll realize that you need him even more than he needs you.

♡ Give it two to five years and a lot of begging, and he'll let you help him while he works. He doesn't let you do any hard labor or interact with the customers. No, honey, he keeps you safe and sound in the back of the shop. You can clean his tools, sort his things, and perhaps even handle the money if he trusts you enough. It may look mundane to most people, but you crave it. You've been starved of any autonomy for the past few years. Being able to control a small workplace is like being somewhere safe, somewhere without Kit. You can allow your mind to drift off and fool yourself into thinking that you are safe. You can just imagine that Kit is nowhere to be found. You can almost taste freedom on your tongue during those fleeting moments.

♡ If you ask for help from someone, he kills them and burns their bodies to ashes in the hearth in your home. He finds it extremely romantic. He'll cuddle into you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear. He'll nip at your skin and mark you up. He's just a bit jealous. He's just a little more possessive. He can't believe that you thought someone else was better than him. He can't believe you wanted to leave him. He'll show you how good you have it. He'll just have to show you again how good he makes you feel—inside and out. The vile dead bodies of the people who have tried to help you take you away from him will keep you both warm at night. He'll take you right in front of the fireplace. He'll claim you again near the sizzling embers of those who dared get near you.

♡ Kit Walker is still as in love with you as the day he laid eyes on you. He has fallen even further into the depths of his own obsession with you. He's ready to take the next step and start a family with you. He can't wait to see your little ones running around the home. He can't wait to see them graduate with you. He can't wait to grow old with you; his devotion to you never faltering. He just needs you to be with him forever, even into the afterlife. He loves you. He'd kill the devil and every god in existence if he had to, just to keep you in his arms forever more.

-‘๑’-

ׂׂૢ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @fear-is-truth @slutforgarlogan @newwavesylviaplath @marchsfreakshow @violet1737

-‘๑’-

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dxckgrxsonx · 2 years

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I humbly request more shenanigans from the photo-buddies, I looooove them 😂🤩

they're absolute children your honor. i love them endlessly.

He looks tired.

There’s a slight delay to everything he does. A barely there pause before he answers a question, laughs at a joke. Your heart reaches out through your ribs when you watch him yawn for the third time in a few minutes, desperate to offer something in the face of his exhaustion.

“You don’t have to stay with me, Jay. You can go home, I’m almost finished.” You drop an undignified amount of ramen noodles in your shopping cart before carrying on down the aisle. At your side, Jason yawns again. “How long have you been awake?”

“Too long.” Comes his reply. You think he keeps it vague on purpose. “I’m not leaving you here, it's the middle of the night and someone might steal all your ramen noodles.”

You slant your head towards him, grinning, “They could try. I’ve fought people for less.”

A soft smile lifts Jason’s mouth, only at the corner, but it’s enough to make you feel weightless, enough to let you breathe. You think that there’s nothing that you wouldn’t do to make him happy. Even if it did mean sacrificing your noodles.

“Yeah that’s true." Jason says. "Remember the time you shouted at that guy for twenty minutes when he took the last box of mac and cheese?”

Nudging him in the side with your shoulder you laugh, “That was not a good night for me. And between you and me, that guy was a massive penis.”

“You mean, that guy has a massive penis, right?”

Coming up at the end of the aisle is a display full of Christmas wrapping paper rolls. Clocking the colourful tubes of cardboard you reply, “Yes Jason, that’s exactly what I meant. The guy that stole the last box of mac and cheese had a big fucking dick.”

“Thanks! I knew you thought it was big.”

Grabbing the first roll of wrapping paper you can reach–one with glittering Christmas trees–you swing around and smack Jason on the top of the head. His eyes narrow immediately and there's a quick, sudden drop in your stomach.

“That wasn’t me.” You defend, abandoning the cart of food. “I was possessed by the spirit of Santa Claus and three hundred different coloured Christmas trees.”

Arming himself with dual tubes of wrapping paper, Jason bounces on the balls of his feet, “I’m about to give you an early Christmas gift.” He declares, approaching you with all the talent and skill of a vigilante.

“I will fuck you up, Todd.” You warn, unable to keep the delighted smile off your face. “It’ll be real embarrassing for you.”

Using one of the tubes to block your sudden advance, Jason uses the other tube to smack you straight across the backside. The tube of wrapping paper warps under the impact and when he holds it up, the whole thing flops to one side, Santa’s face bent in the middle.

“Well done, Jay. You’ve just killed Father Christmas.”

Jason laughs, full and loud, eyes crinkling at the corners, “No, your ass killed Santa, I’m totally innocent.”

“You know, if you wanted to spank me, you could have just asked.”

Shrugging his shoulders Jason launches the wrapping paper back into the stand without taking his eyes off you. His aim is perfect and the tubes slot smoothly alongside the others. Raising an impressed eyebrow you turn your head to place yours back and as soon as Jason is out of your direct line of sight he strikes.

His palm meets your ass in a deafening crack and you jolt, hand flying back to protect yourself from another potential hit.

“Motherfucker!” You yell across the store. “I bet that’s left a handprint.”

“Send me a photo when you get home.” Jason says, smirking. “I’d love to see my handprint on your ass.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd drabble #jason todd fic #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #ella writes #asks #answered #anonymous

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iifishizzleii · 22 days

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könig & gaz - first meet

rare ship alert lmao. unedited :]

könig, who’s sent by kortac (much to his displeasure) on a co-op with task force 141.

he doesn’t like how they work, how their attention will divert from the mission the moment it comes to protecting civilians.

if there’s a chance that innocent lives can be saved, könig will do what he can. but, he won’t compromise a mission over a few lives, because what’s war without sacrifice? (not that their sacrifice means anything in the end, but to be fair, if you see a group of military men rushing one way, why wouldn’t you run the other way?) he has a job, and it’s a job that pays him to take lives. not save them.

the 141, on the other hand, work like they are. and it’s fucking annoying because they suddenly have a conscious for the lives they’re taking, as if the soldiers they’d killed in the field weren’t civilians in gear— as if they weren’t men who were someone’s husband, son, or father. but what does könig know? he’s just a colonel who’s been on the field longer than even price.

(the truth is, könig wasn’t raised knowing the value of human life. his father hated his mother, and his mother hated that he looked like his father. when he was diagnosed with social anxiety, it was just a label to the skin-crawling feeling he got whenever somebody stared at him for too long, the fraying to his nerves when the voices around him made the ones in his head scream louder. people had never done könig any good in his life. so, what did they deserve from him?)

he was forced to a briefing with the 141, and they were as insufferable as he remembered. price, with his unintelligible bear grunting that had könig leaning left because the hearing in his right ear had dulled, and the odor of cigarettes and stress that always followed him. ghost, who‘s staring was like a dissection he felt tugging at every nerve, dull eyes watching könig from across the table in a way that made the taller man want to peel out his eyes. soap, the blabbering bastard that never knew how to sit still without brushing up cozy against the masked lieutenant. all three of them were ripe for early retirement by könig’s hand, testing him with every indirect jab and comment made at the expense of their former enemy. then, a fourth man könig hadn’t bothered sparing any attention for asks price and question, and he turns.

his name was gaz. that’s what könig was told, at least, though he doubted it was the brit’s real name. not that he gave a shit. and ‘gaz’ was no older than thirty five.

he stood to price’s right, staring down at the map on the table with a sharp focus könig noticed. and while they weren’t many things on this Earth he enjoyed, one thing könig could appreciate was a weapon that was as lethal as it was transfixing.

he has big, brown eyes that swam with emotion, something könig’s bitter heart wouldn’t know a thing about. full, tanned cupid bow lips twisted into a thoughtful frown as price and laswell discussed their plans for the mission. his skin was copper, unlike the pale complexions könig was accustomed to seeing on Al Mazrah and Ashika Island. he has thick brows and sharp nose, and when he folds his arms across his chest, his biceps bulge under the grey-blue button up shirt he wears. the curve of his ass and muscled thighs are hugged by his tactical cargo pants.

he wasn’t stocky like soap, nor was he as intimidatingly huge as price or ghost. it was anything larger in size, after all, that people’s attention naturally gravitated to. könig would know. and between the four of them, gaz sits directly in the middle of being physically dominating. and it’s that which interests könig, because while any other less experienced man would chalk gaz’s size up to his skill, he knew better. gaz had every good of a chance of killing him as the rest of the men did. maybe even more, now that könig was aware of how his presence effected the group, and how easily gaz could use to his advantage.

“hübsche klinge,” könig muttered under his breath.

but, awareness seemed to lose meaning as he watched the young man across the room, dark eyes trailing up the thin fabric stretched across gaz’s stomach before lowering to watch his narrow hips as shifts to face price.

then soap cracks a joke and könig would have condemned him for it, unused to such easy going attitude while prepping for a mission, but the sight of gaz’s lips uncurling into a the barest hints of grin make könig freeze. he’s a grown man for christ’s sake, a force of nature feared by enemies and revered by allies. not even the sight of a his own family’s mangled corpses could sway him.

yet, watching that small grin on gaz’s face bloom into a full smile, an exasperated but amused laugh escaping plush lips at soap’s joke, has könig tightening his fists at his side, tracking the way gaz’s eyes crinkle in the corner from the stretch of his smile, his arms unfolding just to refold them oppositely.

könig decides at that moment that out of all the 141, gaz would be the biggest hindrance.

#cod #call of duty #task force 141 #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #konig #konig cod #gaz cod #RARE SHIP #konig x gaz #trying this out #sunny x grumpy #sunshine x grumpy #gaz is sunshine #konig is grumpy

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thisisarcanereverie · 1 year

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Cutting Ties (Dark! Moon Knight x Reader) Part 2

A/N: This is Part 2 of a 3 Part fic. (Here is Part 1!) This is also a dark fic so please DNI Minors and others. (I got a little carried away with this idea Anon so thank you for the suggestion)

Now if you can interact or want to, please do! Like, reblog, reply!

DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS: kidnapping, angst (like a ridiculous amount of it), light cursing, I've never been to London or England in general so I'm going based off of what I've seen, English is my first language I just suck at it. I do not own the picture above but i DO own the header below, it's something that I made. I might make a few others idk. Enjoy!

Summary: You're a former Widow on the run, only in London for a year you meet Steven Grant, a goofy gift shoppist. But is there more that meets the eye?

For as long as you could remember you were not your own. Your name, your face, your mind, your body, even your own autonomy was not your own. It had always belonged to Dreykov and to his Red Room. Then, suddenly, the very color that controlled you, freed you. The red powder burned your eyes for a moment before suddenly it felt like you could breathe again.

It was strange how one’s life can completely turn on its head in a matter of moments.

One moment you were another Widow, easily expendable and replaced and the next you were…new. At least that’s what it felt like, you no longer existed at the whim of another. You weren’t a chess piece on the board, you were now a player.

You remembered the day the Red Room fell as the best day of your life.

There were so many things you could do, there were so many possibilities.

You just weren’t prepared for the reality of it.

That despite the mind control and the lack of autonomy, you still hurt people, at the end of the day it was your finger that pulled the trigger. You would wake in the middle of the night still haunted by those faces with a red mark between their eyes. It felt like you couldn’t escape from the Red Room you concocted in your mind, that no matter how hard you tried you will always be a Widow. So instead of fighting it, you gave in.

You had offers, from SHIELD to Tony Stark himself. Which surprised you, but in the end you decided you didn’t want the spotlight on you and were a merc for a while. It was gritty, but it was work you knew well. You thought you could do it but the first time you were ordered to kill you couldn’t. They were innocent, they were just there at the wrong time. So you killed your boss instead, grabbed what you could, and left. You made enemies that day, one that would love to see your head gifted to them on a silver plate.

You called Natasha after that, you weren’t sure what else to do. You didn’t know anyone else, you were completely alone. She gave you this guy's number, said that he would help you disappear and with whatever else you may need. You could feel her wink on the other end of the phone as you wrote down his information.

Since then you’ve been running, changing addresses and identities every couple of years to stay ahead of people who may want you dead. Her friend would give you new identities and you would exchange with money that you earned at jobs you would work. For a while you were content with being alone, working everyday and coming back to your place to eat food you previously were never able to eat and watching tv. Then you met Steven Grant, Marc Spector, and Jake Lockley. Then suddenly you realized how gray your life had become, how long you had merely survived and what living actually meant—even if you were merely living a lie. All at once you were no longer alone, someone held you at night and kissed your blood-soaked hands.

For the first time in your life…you felt clean.

But that had all been a delusion.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You woke up in pain, your head throbbed and your limbs felt weighted down, as though someone had thrown two weighted blankets on top of you. You willed your eyes to open and was greeted with an unfamiliar ceiling. You squinted your eyes as you looked toward the open window, watched as the powder blue curtains danced gently as the breeze blew in. You weren’t sure how long you’ve been asleep, last time you remember it was nighttime and….

Rain

Pinching

Jake.

You took a sharp breath in and shot up from the bed as your hand went to the side of your neck, Jake had drugged you–and from the look of things–abducted you as well. Why would he do this? Did he act alone or did Steven and Marc help him? All these questions swarmed your mind but one question stood out.

Have you been blind?

You shakily made your way to the open window, sure enough it was morning, and sure enough you weren’t in London. As far as you could tell you could be miles away from the nearest village let alone London. How long had they been planning this? To already have a second place squared away, ready, were you the first to be here or the latest addition.

“You’re up.”

You swerved your head as you looked beside you, your skin crawled and blood turned into ice as you looked at him. Upright posture, hair a little less unkempt, and a twinge of a chicago accent dripped in his voice.

Marc.

You opened your mouth to speak only for a small, pathetic squeak to sound instead of words. Your hand reached for your throat and realized for the first time how absolutely parched you were. Like you hadn’t had any water in days.

“Here,” he handed you a glass of water which you greedily accepted, you didn’t bother breathing as you chugged the glass he gave. After the soreness in your throat subsided a little and hummed to warm up vocal cords that had not been used in a while. You put the glass on the window sill and looked at him and at the tray he was previously holding. Turkey Bacon and Eggs, it was Marc's favorite breakfast, one he had made you dozens of times whenever he was sorry for something.

You were silent as you looked at him further, he wore sweatpants and a t- shirt, both clearly slept in. The tan of his skin glowed in the morning light and it looked like he ran his fingers through his dark curls once or twice. There was something unsettling about him though, one that made the hair on the back of your neck stand, something that wasn’t there before.

Those eyes.

You flinch a little as he raises a hand, only for him to retract it.

“Sorry,” he apologized, his voice uncharacteristically small. You debated on what to say, what was there to say? You had so many questions and yet you could not speak. You weren’t even sure if you were just dreaming, it almost seems like a dream. A house far away from everything and everyone, and your boys were right there with you bringing you breakfast in bed. You were partially worried that you would wake up and find yourself sleeping in a plane seat millions of miles away from them, but the other part of you worried that you would never wake up.

“How long?” you finally spoke, voice still hoarse. A moment of silence fell before he answered.

“I can’t tell you.” Marc says lowering his eyes, something he does when he has something to hide.

“Did Steven or Jake tell you that,” You fidgeted with the sleeve of your shirt.

“Neither.”

“You have to let me go,” You finally said, voice getting a little less hoarse the more you speak. “Please.”

“Stop,” He said looking at you finally with a hard look in his eyes, “Stop saying you have to leave. You don’t need to leave.”

“Yes I do,” you emphasized, you held his face in order to hold his gaze, “there are a lot of things you don’t know about me, things that I’ve lied about. That person you fell in love with isn’t me, I’ve done horrible things-”

“I know-”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes,” he said, grabbing your wrist with an intense look in his eyes, “I do.”

It was like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on you and stuck a fork in an outlet all at the same time. There was no way he could know, at least, not everything.

“I know that you used to be a Black Widow,” he said, taking a step towards you, the grip on your wrist tightening, “you’ve killed, lied, and stole from many people including me.” his nose brushed with yours as you tried to steady your breathing.

“How could you know all that?” You asked, whispered, your mind was pounding in time with your heart as he leaned closer to your ear.

“I also know you used to be a mercenary,” you heard him whisper in your ear, his breath ghosting over the goosebumps that formed on your skin, “that’s how we met.” you stopped breathing as he leaned slightly away from you, far enough for you to look him in the eyes. Dark eyes that held the sun in them.

Oh.

The last job you went on you worked with a team, you never saw his face and he was never much of a talker. You just remember his eyes as he held a gun to you ready to shoot…only to lower the gun and let you get away.

That had been Marc.

Without a second thought you ripped your wrist from his grip and grabbed the glass laying on the nightstand throwing it at him. Your heart pounded as you made your way through the open door, sure to close and block it before he had time to reach it. You were sure by now you were on the verge of a heart attack with how loudly your heart was pounding. You could hear Marc on the other side banging the door with his fists. You had no plan, your heart was breaking all over again and your entire body has gone into a fight and flight zone. You made your way down the wooden stairs skipping every other step, unafraid of the small fall you have on the last step before you regained balance and ran straight through the front door. Even from outside you can still hear him banging and screaming, you tried to decide where the best place to run to when the banging stopped. It wasn’t in Marc's nature to give up so you look behind you, he wasn’t coming down the stairs either. What the hell?

Then you heard a familiar grunt and footsteps above you.

The open window.

All at once it didn’t matter where you ran to as long as you ran. Your feet carried you swiftly into the tree lining of the woods surrounding the house. The adrenaline coursing through your veins hid the pain of the cuts and barbs that scratched you as you pushed them aside. Your goal was to run, or to find a pointy enough stick or a sharp enough stone to throw at him, but mainly run and hide.

You weren’t sure how long you ran, all you knew was that your lungs were on fire and you couldn’t feel your limbs. You knew you couldn’t run much further, at least, not at full speed. So you went to the nearest, sturdy tree you could find and climbed, you grabbed one branch after another. The bark dug into sensitive parts of your hand but you didn’t care, you could see your arms shaking as they pulled you up to that final branch. It seemed strong enough to hold your weight and shielded enough to provide cover.

One of the things the Red Room taught you was to assess weakness and who had the advantage. Marc had the advantage when it came to muscle mass, but you had experience–granted those were mainly espionage missions that required more brains than combat prowess. You always carried a gun on you, but if he was smart (which you know he is) he took that away and was carrying it with him now.

All this time, you thought he loved you and that you were protecting him. You never even suspected the truth, he seemed so familiar and you had that gut instinct that something was up but you ignored it. All this time everything had been a lie, he didn’t love you, he was finishing the job. How long did he have his eye on you before he made a move?

Stop! You didn’t have time to mourn, you had to focus on surviving.

You halted your greedy intakes of air as you heard rustling in the leaves. Careful not to make the slightest sound as you saw him run past, calling your name. You waited until you slowly couldn’t hear the crackling of the leaves before beginning your descent. Time was of the essence, at some point Marc will come back to retrace steps, so you had to make another break in a different direction he had gone. Maybe back to the house and hotwire the beat up jeep you saw in the driveway. Once there you would make it to the second nearest village because the nearest would be the first place he’ll look, use one of those grimy old payphones to call in your ID guy.

Your feet had barely touched the ground before you felt the wind being knocked out of you as you tackled the ground. You were pinned before you could push Marc off of you, unable to do much but struggle in his grip.

“Do it,” you growled while still fighting, “I’m not going to stop fighting but if you’re going to do it, do it now.”

“Do what now?!” His eyes wide and intense, his grip becoming tighter on your wrists again.

“Kill me!” You yell, “that’s what all this has been for, hasn’t it? I killed your boss and stole a lot of money and relics from the people who hired us. A lot of different people want me dead, a lot of powerful people who can make things happen want me dead for more than this. Once you kill me you’ll have your pick of the litter. Whatever you want.” You see his brows furrow as you feel his breath ghost over your lips.

“Have you ever thought that maybe what I wanted was you?” He pecked your lips once before continuing, “that I intended to keep you for myself rather than sell you to the highest bidder.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Cause I love you,” Marc said, pinning your hands above your head with one hand while the other caressed your cheek, “I have since we met on those desolate dunes, that has never been a lie.” you can feel his heartbeat as he lays his weight down on top of you, like so many times before, as his words swirl around your head. Your first thought was that he was lying, how could he not be? Deep down, however, as you looked him in the eyes you were reminded that Marc was many things–but a good liar was not one of them.

“You can love me,” you say, “and still betray me.” you hear him let out a frustrated groan as he drops his head to your shoulder. You can feel his grip tighten before he lets your wrist go, and his weight on you is gone leaving you strangely cold. For a moment you think he’s letting you go, a foolish thought, one full of hope.

You were wrong.

No sooner had you gotten off the ground yourself, your feet were dangling above the ground as you were swung over his shoulder like you weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes. Had this been ANY different situation your knees would be weak for a different reason.

Once again you fought, kicking and screaming. He wasn’t going to kill you, not yet, but you were honest when you said you weren’t going down without a fight. You didn’t even register entering the house until he sat you on the couch with an unceremonious plop, his hands gripping your shoulders and a frustrated look in his eye.

“What is it going to take to get you to believe me?” He said, voice low edging on a growl.

“Give me one good reason to believe that you wouldn’t give me up.” You said, eyes narrowing, “a reason that I would believe.'' There was a beat of silence, you see his brows furrowed together as his brain itches for an answer that you know he wouldn’t have. He has betrayed you and has all the reasons in the world to sacrifice you to the altar.

Then the lights starting flickering,

The hairs on your neck stood on end as you felt a shift in the air, the lights flickering and a hum of something else. Something you’ve never encountered before. Then you see the bandages wrapping themselves around Marc like snakes and his eyes were no longer the dark color you used to adore. They glowed now like moonlight reflecting off of water.

Of course.

You’ve seen the small articles in the paper passing by or clickbait news in the media about London’s vigilante who called themselves Moon Knight. You usually never paid much attention to it, you rarely were out past dark anyway why would you? Maybe you should’ve.

“If I wanted anything that they have,” You hear him say as the mask unbound itself to reveal his face, “I would’ve just taken it, and they couldn’t have stopped me.”

“You’re moon knight.” Of course the first person you fall in love with is not only a mercenary, but also a superpowered vigilante. Your life hasn’t been ordinary, why would your love life be?! You groaned in frustration as you leaned your head back against the couch, “well that explains why you always look exhausted and always came back home at weird hours.”

“You knew about that?” He asked, you gave him a deadpan look, “...of course you did.” You look at him for a moment and replayed every moment in your head leading up to this, he had a point. With these powers he really could have walked into any place, taken what he wanted, and left. He wouldn’t have needed you, but why keep you?

“Ok,” you start, “so you don’t intend to sell me or kill me or whatever.”

“I’ve been telling yo-”

“But why keep me?” You ask, “Why bring me here? Based on this house and location it is-”

“Everything you ever wanted.” Marc finished, his grip softening on your shoulders, “a small house with a sunroom, far away from everyone, a place to plant flowers and a lot more sun than what you got in the city…A home.”

“This would’ve taken at least half a year to build,” you say, “and another few weeks to a month to draft up the plans. So that means that you have been planning on bringing me here since-”

“Since fate decided to give us a second chance,” he said, “I couldn’t follow you before and lost you, trust me I tried to follow you but you were so damn good at running and hiding that I couldn’t find you. Then, one day, I see you on the bus. I was a fly on the wall, Steven was in charge, but I saw you. You have no idea how badly I wanted to talk to you, but seeing how you fled before, I knew I had to be patient. I told Steven everyday to talk to you, building him up until he eventually sat next to you.” You see him laugh a little, “I really shouldn’t have kept him up the night before, but it all turned out alright.”

He was sick, you knew this from the beginning, you just never looked below the surface of it. He needed help, something you couldn’t give him here.

“Baby,” You said softly, holding his hands as he knelt down in front of you, kissing the tops of his still bandaged covered hands, before leaning your forehead against his, you had to be calm. You had to convince him with honey and not vinegar. “Thank you so much for doing this, it must have been so much work.” You start, lowering your voice to barely a whisper, already sensing the tension leaving his body, “you must be so tired.”

“I am.”

“I’m just worried for you,” you said brushing your nose against his, “maybe we should see someone hmm? Like a specialist or a doctor, get you some melatonin or some medicine to help you sleep.” You feel him shake his head before you gently shush him, bringing a hand to cup his stubbly cheek, “just to help you sleep.”

“I don’t need them.” He says definitely, “I have you.”

“And you’ll always have me.” You promise, “let’s just call and make the appointment, I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to help.”

“No,” he mumbles quietly at first, “no” a little louder, “I don’t-”

“Do it for me?” You ask, fluttering your eyelashes and giving him a small smile, “please baby.” gently moving your hand to scratch the nape of his neck you knew he was putty.

“Ok,” he agrees.

“Ok,” you quietly repeat, trying to keep your tone even, “how about we call them right now and make an appointment?”

“No.”

“Ok,” you say, rubbing soothing circles on the back of his neck, “we don’t need to call them right now but in a short bit here, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You breathe in, “yeah.”

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class1akids · 1 year

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What do you think camie's gonna do on the battlefield? Ig create a bleeding bishounen izuku and stop toga lol.

Joke aside, I think Camie will do something in the Toga - Uraraka storyline. She belongs there - Toga did use her body during the Licensing Exam after all.

But not only that: character-wise, Camie sits at an interesting place. While Ochako is kind of obsessed with supressing her crush, Camie absolutely owns her attraction to guys. She hits on Shouto as soon as they meet. And just like Toga, she receives pushback for her forthcoming behaviour (here, as expressed by Shishikura).

Because of her personality, the kindergarten girls also instantly misinterpret her attempt at bonding with the kids as "trying to seduce them" and shun her (especially watch pony-tail girl's reactions):

And even when they find the same boy handsome, they are like "we can't sink to her level". Even though all Camie does is acknowledge that people can be just happy from experiencing attraction.

And what is her way of getting through to these girls? Ponytail girl, who thinks Camie's way is socially unacceptable, joins the fray to attack Shouto head on, even though we know she finds him cute (sound familiar?)

Camie side-steps this with an illusion, a tiny bit of wish fulfilment, that's about acknowledging and validating their little baby crush on Shouto, recognizing it for the innocent thing it is.

And just like Toga, Camie is also in a societal straight-jacket of not being able to act on her crushes (as per school rules), but she has learn better coping mechanisms than killing people for it. She bitches and complains about it and lets it out.

I think this is what Camie is - half-way between Toga and Ochako - someone who gets attracted easily, is open about her crushes, hits on people shamelessly, but is also able to have fun with that attraction even if it's not reciprocated and certainly isn't for trying to repress or hide her feelings.

So in the end, she wins the girls hearts by playing along, by helping them also to find playful and healthy outlets for romantic attraction and to show them that it's ok to own it and have fun with it in a way that respects the boundaries of the object of their crush. She has plenty of naysayers who think that her straightforwardness is not acceptable, but Camie doesn't change or lose herself to those negative voices.

She keeps dancing to her own tune and other people can't help but smile and dance along with her once they get to know her.

Also notice the design of those two girls:

As I keep saying, the Remedial arc is important and contains somehow the blueprint to saving the villains.

Just like Inasa is a Dabi-reflection (someone who turns into a twisted version of himself over Endeavor's rejection), Camie is a Toga-reflection. And her personality and way of dealing with her crushes can be an illuminating example both for Toga and Ochako that there is a middle ground between being consumed by your feelings or repressing them fully.

Obviously, it won't be Camie who "saves" Toga, but she can come with her boundary-smashing commentary that helps both Toga and Uraraka in eventually bridging the gap.

#c1a asks #bnha meta #bnha manga spoilers #bnha 380 #remedial arc #camie utsushimi #himiko toga #uraraka ochako #look at the girl with the flower design in her hair #and the other one with the ponytail obsessed with shutting down her feelings

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ovaryacted · 5 months

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This is gonna be a longish analysis post but just walk with me for a bit. I don’t even know where I’m going with this, but I’m going to talk about Leon’s humanity and how important it is to his character.

The topic of goodness, morality, and humanity when it comes to a zombie apocalypse is something I always find interesting. It’s huge when it comes to depicting what is defined as “good” in a universe where the living are amongst the dead and they are left to survive by any means necessary.

I’m currently rewatching The Walking Dead from the beginning, and I want to focus on Rick Grimes and use him as an example. When we first meet Rick, he’s a sheriff, a good man with a wife and a child (Carl) that he loves dearly. He has community, he has a life, and all of that gets taken away from him when he wakes up in a hospital alone in the middle of an apocalypse. Early on in the show, the first 2 seasons really, Rick is depicted as a man with a big moral compass, he does right by people, he protects who he loves and tries to save whoever he can.

Towards the end of S2 into S3 and beyond, Rick beings to change after he starts killing humans who pose a threat to his livelihood on top of killing the walkers (zombies) as a means of survival. He begins to lose himself the more he kills and the more losses he experiences, because he carries the burden of being the leader and has to protect what he currently has. Killing becomes second nature to him, and he’ll do it without hesitation because he has to.

Within every zombie or monster apocalypse franchise, like TWD, The Last of Us, and Resident Evil included, you quickly learn that zombies aren’t the only things you have to be scared of, but the people that are also surviving alongside you who become corrupt and are a threat to you.

Throughout TWD as the story progresses, Rick faces challenges with other leaders like The Governor and Negan who are seen as a modern depiction of “tyrannical dictators”. These people constantly fighting with Rick in particular, are intended to make the viewers question who is good, and who is evil, because all of these leaders in comparison to Rick are seen as “bad people”. Yet, when Rick goes batshit crazy in S5 and does the things he criticized his late best friend Shane of doing (before he kills him), you start to wonder whether or not Rick is still considered a “good man” or has any humanity left in him.

Why am I talking about this you ask? Well, it’s because the same questions you get when thinking about morally grey characters like Rick Grimes from TWD, it can be applied to perceiving Leon Kennedy’s character from RE. Rick has been through hell and had to do what he could to survive and protect those that he cared for, the same way Leon wanted to do from the beginning except of course it’s a bit different in his particular case.

When we first meet Leon Kennedy as a character, he’s a bright eyed rookie at the age of 21. He’s practically a baby with no proper life experience, and he carries a sense of innocence that he doesn’t really understand until he finds himself smack in the middle of a zombie apocalypse of his own. After experiencing Raccoon City and barely surviving, he gets blackmailed into military service and has to work alongside the corrupt government for years fighting against what essentially ruined his life. He was never meant to be a soldier, or a government lap dog, he was told that from the start of his military career. But he was essentially groomed and molded out to become one by force, and that would make anybody turn cold.

Leon at his core, is someone who is so selfless and heroic that it’s tragic to see how he’s changed as he gets older, of course none of it being his fault. His entire perception of the world gets flipped upside down, and he no longer believes that there is “good” in the world, that there is no justice and the reason why he joined the police force (to protect people) is a fallacy. He’s a good guy that gets thrown into the worst possible situation, and he grows numb and detached from reality because he doesn’t see a point in continuing to fight for a world that will destroy itself.

Despite his thoughts and his traumas, his humanity remains intact. Even when he’s been on so many missions knocking on death’s door, he continues to fight. Of course, a big reason being because of Sherry and because he has nothing else, but at the same time it’s because he still maintains some sense of his moral code after everything happens. He easily could’ve become corrupt with his bitterness and anger towards the government after all the trauma he experienced. If he wanted to he could’ve become like Krauser, or Jason, or even Dylan; trying to gain some power because there is no justice or morality. He also could’ve just ended everything a long time ago if he really didn’t want to live anymore. But he doesn’t. He still helps people, he still wants to save them, and he lives by his own personal mantra: If you don't try to save one life, you'll never save any. (In Degeneration)

And we see that in practice multiple times throughout the times we get to see Leon:

RE2 w/Sherry and Claire, and also trying to save Ada and Marvin

RE4 with Ashley (Luis is questionable but both his death and Krauser’s impacted Leon too)

Infinite Darkness with his team, Claire, and seen in how he treats Patrick

Damnation with how he tells Buddy that he shouldn’t kill himself because he owes it to the people who died to stay alive (kind of questionable cause the delivery was wrong but yeah)

RE6 in general trying to save everyone against Simmons

Vendetta helping Chris to fight against Arias despite being drunk and suicidal

Death Island trying to take down Dylan with everyone else

Leon’s humanity is so fundamental to his character that it’s the one thing that really makes him stand out (of course the main character have their humanity but I’m focusing on Leon in particular). The fact that no matter what happens or what he says or what he’s been through, he still somehow carries the same thinking he had when he became a rookie cop in the first place, and honestly it’s admirable. It’s one of the things that really makes me love him as a character. He’s just a good man with a heart of gold in a shitty situation, even though he doesn’t he’s a good person, and somehow underneath all that trauma, a part of him he still cares enough to keep fighting.

#ovaryacted thoughts #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #resident evil leon kennedy #idek what I was talking about but I hope it makes some sense LMFAO #I just get on here and start yapping geez #I made this at like 4 am last night okay #ignore me #I just be thinking

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animatorweirdo · 2 years

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Imagine being raised by Sauron

(This was born out of a thought what it would have been like for a sauron to look after a human child and living in his protection. There’s a little joke in here, see if can find it. Hope you enjoy,)

Warnings: Mentions of a lost childhood, illnesses, dead parent, living as a child servant, a bit violence, mentions of injuries, lack of food and final goodbye.

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-It all began after your mother’s death.

-You and your mother found a man while returning home. He was wounded and stranded in the forest, so your mother took him in out of kindness.

-He was an odd fellow. He was beautiful but didn’t talk much. He often just lay in bed, resting and staring out of the window.

-He didn’t refuse the help your mother gave him, but he did refuse to talk about how he got into such a state.

-Your mother said he must have gone through something hard, and if he didn’t want to talk about it, it was only polite not to bother him about it, so you never did.

-It didn't stop your innocent mind from being more curious, though.

-You have heard a lot about elves, and he had pointy ears, so you couldn't help but ask him if he was one and what it was like being part of a beautiful and the wisest race upon middle earth.

-He only chuckled and said he was something else, something more than an Eldar.

-His answer confused you, but he began talking more after that.

-He spoke about magical things like valars and mystical creatures like wolves and dragons and that there was more than meets the eye with the elves. You were fascinated and listened like he was telling stories.

-Your thoughts about elves changed when you heard him describe how they killed their kind for the sake of jewels.

-He told you you should be careful if you ever cross an elf. They could be worse than humans.

-He often scared you with these stories because you believed him. He found enjoyment in your fright, then consoled you not to take him seriously. The stories might be true, but he just has a dark sense of humor.

-He was then comfortable enough to give his name. Mairon.

-He sometimes asked about you and your mother and why your father didn’t seem to be around. It seemed unusual for a mother to do things all by herself.

-You explained your father wasn’t a good man and ran off with another woman. You and your mom didn’t have anyone else, so it has just been you two.

-You admired your mother, for she worked hard to provide food on your table. Even though: it was rough, and you weren’t very wealthy.

-Treating guests well was a prominent rule in your house, so you apologized for not being able to provide the best things for him, mainly when he was injured.

-He said he did not mind. The world was cruel, even to most innocent people. He was going through some time, so he was grateful enough to have something, then nothing.

-At that time, you thought you made a friend and often kept him company with stories and gossip you heard from the town’s people.

-You didn’t bother him when he was sad and stared out the window. He once told you he was just missing someone, so that’s how you knew your friend was sad whenever he stared out the window.

-All looked well. Mairon got better and was even standing, walking around the house sometimes, and he eased your mother’s burden by watching you when she needed to visit the town.

-Those were fun times since you tended to pull him along to play some games.

-He didn’t get most of the games you liked. He just tried to find the logic behind them and was straightforward. And he cheated most of the time, finding enjoyment in your little anger.

-It was okay because you didn’t get his games either. He liked games with wits and brains, but they were too challenging for a nine-year-old to understand.

-It was pretty chaotic, but in the end, you two found some enjoyment in the games.

-Days started to pass, and your mother became sick. She was constantly tired, sweating, and coughing. She barely had enough strength to walk.

-You tried to encourage her to rest and make her feel better with herbs she used to feed you whenever you were sick. Mairon helped with cooking since you were too tiny to handle a burning pot.

-Your mother did not get better, and Mairon then told you she was not suffering from an ordinary cold.

-He then explained she would pass away and go somewhere far away. Somewhere she couldn't come back from even if she wanted to.

-You didn’t want to believe it at first, but as time passed, your mother was on her death bed. She said the same thing, and at that moment, you couldn't deny it any longer.

-She asked Mairon to look after you or at least find a new home and people willing to take you. If he did that, she would be grateful and consider it as repayment for taking him in.

-She hugged you and bid her heart-filled goodbye as she passed away.

-You laid there with her, hugging and crying until her body became cold, and Mairon told you to come with him.

-You tucked your mother like she always tucked you and left the house with Mairon.

-Outside, you witnessed as Mairon set your home on fire with a flicker of his fingers. You felt dread to see your home burn while your mother was inside it, so you asked for a reason why you couldn't bury her.

-He said your mother’s spirit would be free that way and not trapped under the earth. It was also her and your house, so it was to make sure no one would use it and possibly stain its memory.

-And you possibly wouldn't want them both to rot away in time if you just left them there.

-You found it reasonable and thought your mother got released from the pain, so it was good for her. Fire always brought light and warmth.

-You didn’t know what to think after all that.

-You traveled with Mairon for some time, stumbling behind as he just kept walking.

-You two end up finding a city of some sort. It was big and bright. You have never seen anything like it before, and it scared you.

-Mairon told you to try your luck there finding a new family to provide for you. It might not be easy, but people surely wouldn't leave a child alone.

-You were scared to go alone and asked if he could come with you.

-He said he couldn't because some people don’t like him. It could end badly for you if people saw him around you.

-You weren’t certain what to think about that statement, and since you trusted him more than anyone, you asked if you could go with him instead. He said it himself the stories about elves and humans were true, so would you be safe in that place on your own?

-Mairon thought about it for a while, then gave you an offer.

-He did have a debt to pay to your mother so he could look after you, but if you came along, you had to be ready for things you might not like because people didn’t see him like how you saw him. If you listen to what he says, he will ensure nothing can hurt you, not even the vilest thing on earth.

-However, he will look after you until you were old enough to care for yourself. After that, you two will go separate ways, with no discussion.

-You agreed because you trusted him that time.

-You did not imagine how the years went by his side as his true identity became clear to you and what he meant by people seeing him differently than you.

-He became known as Sauron. He was a maia and a former lieutenant of the dark lord Morgoth, or Melkor, as he did not like his former master preferred that name.

-He schemed against the people of middle earth, making plans to dominate the world and raising his armies in the shadows.

-And you, well, you became his servant.

-You didn’t do anything drastic like the orcs or chieftains of his armies. You just tended to personal things like cleaning, sorting the documents, and being a cup holder. You were just a servant.

-He kept you out of the scenes most of the time, but it didn’t stop some gossip from moving around about a strange human child serving the dark lord.

-It didn’t cause harm, but it was unnerving.

-Mairon gave you a room to sleep in and better food and sometimes educated you. It was to slowly prepare you for the world until you hit the age to go on your way.

-It was tough to live around in those conditions, and there wasn’t a day when orcs didn’t scare you to the bones.

-During your youth, you witnessed a lot and slowly developed your sense of right and wrong. People and creatures under Mairon’s rule were horrible and cruel, and you have seen what they do to prisoners.

-You didn’t try to resist or voice out how wrong things were because Mairon looked after you and made sure no one touched you without getting punished.

- One time, an orc captain thought it was a good idea to grab you roughly while saying insults. You were just trying to serve some wine, so he scared you out of your wits.

-Mairon had the orc restrained, and he slowly tortured the creature while teaching others what would happen when they dare to touch what is his, in this case, you.

-You were his little servant, so no one else has the right to command or handle you.

-It was scary, but he made sure you were alright and tended to your injured hand in his odd way.

-At that time, you realized how lucky you were compared to others who got forced to serve there.

-When time passed, you grew up to be quite knowledgable, then Mairon gave you an offer of learning tactics and self-defense.

-You agreed because you thought it was necessary to know how to defend yourself, especially since you were gonna go on your own one day.

-When your training began, Mairon and the instructors didn't go easy on you. It was highly demanding, and most of the time got sent to the healers with bruises and broken bones.

-Whenever you managed to pass their tests, the training gets harder and harder. It was stressful, and sometimes you just cried in silence to handle it. You were a stress crier.

-It was easy to learn how to use the bow, and you became good at using a sword. It was your favorite weapon.

-Mairon taught you tactics and gave you tasks to solve puzzles and riddles. He told you recognizing the tactics of your enemies would be beneficial and how to outsmart them without brawling.

-His games and tasks were challenging, and if you failed to solve them. The reward of your failure would be days without food, so you worked your brains for it.

-One of the odd lesson he had given you was how to do make up and eye liner. There wasn’t a peculiar reason. He said there was no reason not to do things with style.

-In time, you did manage to grow your ability in tactics enough to outsmart him a couple of times and win in the chest once. You hated that game.

-It was then that he deemed you were ready.

-You have grown up into a young adult in their twenties, good with weapons and independent enough to care for yourself.

-Mairon had gifted you a sword he made himself and personally sent you off to live your life.

-He had deemed it was the end of his debt to your mother and will no longer look after you. It was now your responsibility to care for yourself.

-You thanked him for everything he had done for you. Even though; you did not agree with his ideals, you wished him good luck.

-Mairon said you were free to do anything you liked, but he would not hesitate to harm or even kill you if you dared to get in his way. If you killed orcs out of self-defense, it was fine, but as long you carried the sword. It will send a message to leave you alone.

-You heeded his advice and bid him goodbye for the last time.

-It was strange to be around your kin and elves. You haven’t interacted with them for the longest time, and it felt like you swam around in stranger tides with all new fishes and possible predators.

-You managed to get around it and get a decent life among them.

-Rumors and stories about Sauron emerged, and you watched from the sidelines as he did horrible things with his orcs and soldiers of darkness.

-You did not know how to feel about it. You should feel anger for all the wrongdoings, but you can’t help but feel sorrow since you grew up under Mairon’s protective wing.

-You never did grow to hate him like all others. Maybe you still felt some familial bond with him as you have known him all your life, and now you’re on your own. You had no one else.

-You only had memories and thoughts about him, so you tried to move on with your life. It might be challenging, but you will manage as it was your turn to look after yourself, writing your own story until it was time to reunite with your mother.

#sauron x reader #child reader #silmarillion x reader #platonic sauron #sauron headcanon #silmarillion headcanon #silm fic #middle earth x reader #middle earth #mairon x reader #mairon headcanon #melkor #silmarillion #sauron #mairon #human reader #platonic headcanon

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havendance · 11 months

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Robin III: Cry of the Huntsman

Right now, I am in the middle of both of my major wips and they’re both long and feel like they’re going on forever, so here is something fun and quick and wrote in between for the Helena Dick Roleswap AU. Enjoy.

—

Mob creeps were all the same, Dick thought. Didn’t matter whether they were Italian like Zucco had been or Russian like this latest set. They still chewed up all the innocent lives around them to make their profit. The Russians had killed a father for resisting, and then his daughter for witnessing. For them, it was just part of their twisted game. The least Dick could do was ruin it for them.

His shift at the bar came to an end and he walked back to his place, planning his next move. The presence of KGBeast complicated things.

There was a lamp on when he entered his apartment. Dick knew that it had been off when he’d left.

“Who’s there?” he called, reaching for the escrima he kept stashed near the door.

“It’s just me.”

Dick turned the corner to see that Robin was sitting in his armchair, fingers steepled in front of his face. He relaxed marginally. “What are you doing here?”

“You agreed to team up on this,” Robin pointed out.

“Yes, but that wasn’t an invitation to show up at my apartment. How’d you even know where I live anyway?” And, the more important question, since Dick wasn’t the Huntsman right now. “How did you know who I am?”

“I figured it out. It wasn’t that hard.”

All the effort Dick had put into keeping his identities separate, well the costume and mask at least, and the kid says it wasn’t that hard. It was honestly a little insulting. He sighed. “Mind elaborating?”

Robin suddenly looked shifty. “It’s not important.”

“Considering it’s my secret identity, I think it is.”

“Look, I’m sorry about breaking in. Next time I’ll just meet up with you somewhere else.”

“Robin.”

The kid had stopped his little steepled fingers thing and had started fidgeting with his cape instead. He wouldn’t meet Dick’s eye. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, almost a whisper.

That threw Dick for a loop. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just— I really don’t think you need to know.”

Don’t snap at the kid. You don’t want to scare him off. “I kind of think it’d hurt me more not knowing what holes in my security I’ve got.”

Robin kept fiddling with his cape. He looked up at Dick and then back down again quickly. Dick waited. Finally, the kid said: “Last night, that flip you did. There’s only ever four people who ever managed to pull off.” Dick felt himself freeze. The quad. He hadn’t thought about it, had needed the extra power. Robin kept talking. “Of those, two of them are dead and another’s in Russia.” He gave a little shrug. “Process of elimination.”

Dick remembered to breathe. “You’ve got pretty good eyes to catch that. What if it’d been a triple and you guessed wrong?”

Another pause. This time, when Robin spoke, he sounded almost apologetic. “My parents used to take me to the circus every year, when it was in Gotham. I know what it looks like.”

Oh. “Then, were you…?” It had been nearly three years ago now since Haley’s had last come to Gotham.

Robin looked away again. “I’m sorry.”

That was a yes then. This kid who’s name Dick didn’t even know had been there on one of the worst nights of his life. The one that he could never forget. The one that haunted his nightmares. Judging by the look on the kids face he didn’t have any problems remembering either. He suddenly looked very young. And hell, it had been nearly three years ago. “How old even were you?”

Robin bristled. “I wasn’t a baby. Look, don’t we have mobsters to take down?”

Right. The reason Robin was even here in the first place. Well it wasn’t like Dick wanted to talk about this topic any more either. He let the subject drop. “I’ve got a few leads,” he said. “Give me a minute ti suit up and we can head out.”

“I’ve got a couple too,” Robin said.

“Sounds like we’ve got our work cut out for us.” Dick shook off memories of the past as he walked into his room. He didn’t need any more ghosts haunting him tonight when he’d need his focus. Zucco was dead. He’s made sure of that. His parents could rest knowing that Justice had been done. With any luck, he’d be able to ensure the same for the family the Russians had killed. It was time for the Huntsman to work.

#tim drake #helena dick roleswap au #my fic #havendance writes #I also have something for a lonely place of dying but that still needs to be transferred to my computer #carthago delenda est #dc #bats + birds + affiliated #dick grayson #last of the flying graysons

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livingemkayde · 1 year

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Twin Moons - Chapter Five: The Silence

Series Summary:

when you meet a Mandalorian on the sands of Tatooine, for some reason you both can't stay away. even through all the pain—you keep coming back to each other. it's all you know how to do.

Chapter Five: The Silence

Notes: Someone please tell me how this chapter is almost six thousand fucking words long. I got so carried away. If you guys like longer chapters, let me know but I think I'm going to start making them longer anyways. Notes are HIGHLY appreciated. As always, please enjoy.

Side note: Idk if you guys picked up on this, but the reader has very light pupils, almost completely white eyes aside from some shading in irises–it is touched on more in this chapter.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive f!reader

Series warnings: *Although this chapter may not contain graphic content, this story is rated 18+ due to graphic depictions of violence and sexual scenarios.*

Chapter warnings: Mentions of the empire, the dark side, and the force, angst. Brief mentions of abuse and Stockholm syndrome. Mutual pining and very strong feelings from the reader. Mando having a potty mouth. Hints at sexual scenes/thoughts. Jealousy and reader’s self hatred.

Summary: He’s officially going to drive you crazy. The Mandalorian in front of you is going to drive you insane. He might kill you. You could die by a thousand touches and suggestive words with hidden meanings.

Masterlist Chapter Four Chapter Three

One.

You work with Grogu more the following afternoon. When you exit the Mandalorians hut after nap time has begun, you look for him on the small porch but instead see his shining head across the way with Omera.

You scowl to yourself, and quickly brush it off as you make your way over. Your eyes feel slightly puffy from the tears shed through the night. You had not gotten much sleep. Winta’s innocent words crept into the back of your mind each time you closed your eyes. She questioned her people’s safety from you. A child, not unlike the one you were working with—asking if you would ever hurt her. The thought feels like it stabs your heart.

You’re sad. Honestly. Like really fucking sad. About everything. About leaving him and his kid in a couple days. About Davin. About Omera. About everything. It burns through your chest with a certain bite that leaves you feeling empty. You don’t know why. Or why you’re scared to approach them. Or why you feel such a strong connection to a man you just met.

“Hey, uh—” you say as you approach the pair. Omera laughs at something the Mandalorian says and her hand brushes his bicep again. At your entrance, her hand drops and the couple goes silent. “Sorry I hope I'm not interrupting. Grogu is down for a nap. Just wanted to let you know.”

You exit quickly, only hearing a small ‘thank you’ from the Mandalorian as you walk away towards the woods.

The Mandalorians gaze sears into the back of your head as you exit.

You continue exploring through the small pathway—ducking under some branches and slipping through bushes to a clearing. In the middle, a large tree with a wide trunk. You circle the tree a few times before looking down towards the ground. The sunlight is shining on the top of your head. You can feel the heat of it warming your hair.

While you look to the ground, absentmindedly counting your steps and noting the small flowers there, you pick up a fallen branch, long and sturdy enough to be a weapon, maybe a staff—a spear.

You hold the branch in your hands. Test the weight of it in your palms and twirl it through your hands and around your body. Maybe in another life it could’ve been kyber.

You begin hitting the tree, simulating some form of combat. You were restless after so much time on this boring planet. It was the most time you had ever spent in one place in years.

As you spin to hit the trunk higher, much like smashing the head of an opponent, you hear a twig snap behind you. You suddenly find it hard to breathe.

“Mandalorian.” You huff while continuing your silly practice, not looking back to meet his gaze. You shouldn’t be mad at him. But you are, unexplainably.

Din notices you are elegant with your strikes. You move in a way he has never seen before, much less experienced in combat. Even in the cantina, you bested him with your quick skills and surprising strength.

You hear him walk toward you, but for some reason, your body fails to turn.

“Saki.”

You turn at the nickname, it feels foreign on his lips.

You are slightly breathless, from the combat practice or your name echoing through modulation, you do not know. His voice trails through the small clearing and it makes your ears ring.

“What are you doing?” He asks when you don't respond.

“I'm bored. This place is…boring. I don't want to take care of kids all day and farm krill.” You smack the branch against the tree trunk once more. You remember last night, Omera, Winta and her words that cut your skin like daggers.

The branch snaps in half.

You toss the two halves to the ground and fully turn to face him. He's standing a couple feet away.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?” You reply—passive-aggressive tones in your voice. Last night hurt. Seeing him with Omera hurt. The fact that he didn’t follow you hurt.

Not that he owes you anything. You were becoming attached to someone who was obviously unavailable—it was all in your head.

But the way he listened to your stories, taking in all the information that makes you, you. You couldn’t help but fall, even if he wasn’t there to catch you. But that’s not his problem—it's yours.

A few moments pass, you note his hand twitching like he's contemplating his words carefully. The orange tips of his pointer and thumb scrape past each other in their wake.

“Alright. C’mon. Let's go.” He turns on his heels and begins to walk away from you.

“What? I–hey wait up.” You call after him as you follow his figure.

“Ready? On ‘go’ okay? Three–” you get into your stance, “–two–” you hold your palms out, ready to strike first, “–one–” you grab his wrist, twisting his arm and striking at the crease of his elbow.

You snake your ankle around his and pull your leg back, so he stumbles and kneels on the ground before you.

“I said on ‘go.’” He grunts while sliding to grab the back of your thigh and shoulder to flip you and bring you down to the ground. You slip out of the trap easily, scrambling to stand and begin to engage in hand to hand combat with him.

“I know. Just–” you strike the side of his stomach with your foot and he grunts “–making sure you were ready.”

You elbow his collar and he grunts again. “You weren't.” You chuckle quietly.

It's easy–fun even. Something to stimulate your brain. Something entertaining for you, he had said. You appreciate his efforts, he explains he used to spar with other Mandalorians when he was a child. You know he can understand your restlessness on this planet.

He showed you to a small field near the village and explained he and Grogu spent time out here when you weren’t preparing him. The grass in this area was soft. It was unlike the hard soil of the forest, and the dirt ridden roads near the huts.

His hands tangle with yours. You can feel him everywhere. Your hips, your waist, back, shoulders. You are using small amounts of strength—sparring strength, but you relish the feeling of his hands on your body.

“You're a cheater.” He grunts as you block his strike.

“Didn't know you cared much about rules.” You spin and switch positions with him, moving throughout the open field near the village, sun looking down on you.

You giggle through the innocent game—each time his move fails and he becomes more frustrated.

You go to kick his side again as he opens his stance to strike, but he predicts your movements, grabs you by the crease of your knee and hauls you to the ground. He straddles your hips with his thighs. Mimicking his actions when you first arrived at Sorgan.

You settle on the ground below him, looking up at the sky. You can see the trees peeking into your upside down vision. You fill your chest with air and release it slowly, savoring this moment. The sky is a shade of blue unfamiliar to your worn eyes. The Mandalorian sitting in the middle of the expanse, looking like a painting. He is art. His armor is beautiful. A true show of craftsmanship. You wonder who forged it for him.

“You like this position huh.” You tease with breathless laughter––having given up on the sparring.

“Maybe I do. You're prettier when you're not smashing plates on my head.”

Your eyes widen.

“What?” You ask.

“The cantina. Remember?” He notes.

“Yeah. I remember. What you said before that.”

“What, that I like this position? Don't get too cocky. I just like it when you can't hurt me.” He teases with a light tone.

“You called me pretty.” You say, meeting his eyes.

“Did I? Don't recall…do you yield?”

“Don't try to change the subject. You called me pretty.”

“I didn't.”

“You just did.”

“No. I didn't.”

“It's okay.” You can't help a smile that comes to your face. “If you think I'm pretty it's okay.”

“Why do you want me to think you're pretty?”

“I just want you to admit you said it.”

“So you want me to think you're pretty.”

“No, I just want you to admit that it happened.”

A few moments pass. You feel a sudden tension between you. Maybe you had taken your joking too far. You worry in this position, that he might actually hurt you. Your breaths become slightly erratic, but you try to steady them—bringing air in through your nose.

“Maybe it did.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words. “Happen.” He clarifies. “Then what?” He says softer this time. You can tell the playful intentions of this stupid conversation have gone.

You can’t bring yourself to respond. Is he calling you pretty? Or is he just admitting that it happened? The Mandalorian is running laps around your head and you feel dizzy from his incessant games you can’t bring yourself to stop playing. You think back to Omera. The way they stood together during dinner. His hands on her body. It was silly. If you really think about it. Silly that he would feel the same way when you’ve only known each other a few days—after you tried to kill him—after everything you’ve done.

But you feel like you have known him forever. And you would choose to—given the chance.

When you say nothing but look up towards the sky, his hand moves from resting on his thigh to your bicep. Your eyes shoot back to the black T in front of you. Your lips part and although your eyebrows haven’t unfurrowed, they soften slightly. All your features do.

He acts before you can speak. Trailing his hand down your arm, to your open palm on the ground. When he reaches your fingers, he turns your hand in his, and snakes his fingers through yours.

You watch the whole time, the feeling strange in your palms, your gloves abandoned in the hut with Grogu.

He runs his thumb over the back of your hand, the both of you staring at your joined limbs, silence surrounding you. Even though you are separated by his glove, you feel his warmth spread like fire throughout your body. He holds your hand with some strength, enough to make you feel secure without forcing your joints.

Although your mind should be racing—racing with thoughts about a certain beautiful widow, a sleeping green child, and the Mandalorian in front of you. You can only stare back, entranced by his actions.

You feel his other arm moving, his hand coming to rest on your hip bone, his thumb rubbing softly at the exposed flesh there. You close your eyes at the feeling.

“Look at me.” He says, you open your eyes.

Suddenly, the feeling has changed in the air between you.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

Even though you aren't sure what he means by this you nod your head anyways.

He runs his fingers higher up your stomach, gloved hand pushing back fabric as you shiver under his touch.

“I–” you start, but a small ring pulls you both out of your trance. The Mandalorian suddenly drops your hand, pushes himself off you and turns to look toward the sound.

The dinner bell.

Fuck.

Two.

When you finish with Grogu the following day, you decide to rest on the ground next to his pram. You’re tired from working with him. You should be practicing your meditation since you are reaching out to him through the force for long periods of time—but you don’t.

You settle on the ground next to his bassinet, back pressed against the side of the Mandalorians bed.

The preparations have been progressing, Grogu is doing well. You peer over your shoulder towards the sleeping child and sigh. He should be ready with one more session tomorrow. He has to be ready—you’re leaving.

The Mandalorian doesn’t inquire much about Grogu’s preparations anymore, you hope it’s a sign of trust, of good faith. But then again, he doesn’t have much choice.

When you finally begin to shut your eyes, your head slouching to the side, the curtains open and let in the sunset from outside. A tall figure stands as a shadow in the doorframe. The Mandalorian.

“Hi.” You say while opening your eyes slightly with a smile.

“Bedtime? For both of you?” He asks while chuckling slightly and walking into the room, letting the curtains shut behind him.

“Mhm.” You say lazily while squinting one eye and letting your head fall to the other side.

“Come on, rest on the bed.” He stands in front of you now, your eyes open at his request and you look up at him.

“No, no it's okay. I’ll just go back to my hut.” You say while standing slowly.

“C’mon, just stay here. You’re already falling asleep.” He pushes a fallen piece of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek bone. Your bruises had been healing slowly, but you still had some cuts on your face from Davin’s rings. You can feel the Mandalorians fingers tracing over the scabs on your cheek.

Your eyes widen—you want to cry. But you don’t fight him, or push him away.

When you stand motionless, while looking into his visor, he places his hands on your hips and begins to turn your body while leading you to the bed with gentle pushes on your lower back.

You abandon your plan of returning to your hut, but you’re so aware of his hands on your body, you no longer feel tired.

“Okay.” You say plainly, and settle on his bed on top of his blanket. You lay on your back, one hand resting on your stomach, the one closer to him laid flat on the bed.

He turns to leave you—maybe it’s your sudden boldness from yesterday in the field, or the lingering feeling of his hands on your waist, but you speak without thinking.

“Will you stay?” You ask, and he freezes in his stride. He pauses for a few seconds, you’re afraid he’ll reject you, or leave without saying anything. But he turns his head to the side, to indicate he heard you.

“You want me to tuck you in?” He turns, and you swear you can hear a smirk drift across his face. He stalks back towards your figure on his bed.

“You’d like that. I’m just bored.”

“I thought you were tired.”

“Someone’s shiny head woke me up.”

He sits on the bed next to your body. His back is to you, but he turns his head so he can look down at your face. You scoot over some, to make room for his figure but he remains sitting on the side of the bed.

You close your eyes, satisfied with his presence, but you can feel him shifting beside you.

“Lay down.” You say softly, while opening your eyes to his visor, scooting over more to make room for his large figure.

He says nothing but swings his legs and begins to lay beside you. His bed is large, big enough that you can lay side by side without touching, a few inches of space between you.

“I don’t think I've ever seen you sleep.” You note while staring up at the ceiling.

“I don't much. Probably a habit from traveling so much.” He replies beside you.

“You should sleep more.”

“You should too.”

You chuckle.

You want to bring up the field, Omera, his touches, but you don’t—leaving it unsaid in the air between you.

“Can you tell me about your creed?”

Din freezes. He didn’t know people were interested in his creed besides when asking why he can’t take the helmet off.

“I knew a Mandalorian. But he showed his face.” You continue when he doesn’t respond. He notes how you inquire curiously, but never question his faith.

“The Mandalorians saved me from a droid attack on my home planet. I was a foundling. Raised in the fighting corps. The creed means I can never show my face to another living being. This is The Way.”

You stare at the ceiling, taking in all the information. You have never heard of this creed—even after studying with the jedi on Coruscant.

“No one? For your whole life?”

“This is The Way.” He repeats the strange words once again in response.

“Not even your kid?” You ask, referencing Grogu.

“He is a foundling. If I were to adopt him, or raise a child—I would be able to show my face to my family.”

“Family. Like….your wife?”

“If I were to take a wife I would be able to show her my face, yes.”

“Mm.” You note, without much to follow. You hesitate in your questioning—unsure of his comfort answering questions regarding his creed.

“Have you ever wanted to?”

“Wanted to do what? Show my face?” He asks.

You respond simply with a small “Yeah.”

You feel his helmet look toward you, and you can’t help but bring your head to meet his. Looking for his eyes behind the small visor in front of you. You feel his hand moving beside you, his pinky finger reaching out to brush against yours. It disappears just as quickly, and your breath hitches in your chest.

“Yes.”

He’s officially going to drive you crazy. The Mandalorian in front of you is going to drive you insane. He might kill you. You could die by a thousand touches and suggestive words with hidden meanings. You turn to look away from him, a blush creeping up your neck.

“How many planets have you been to?” You ask, trying to change the subject after your words fail you to continue the conversation.

“More than I can count.” He says with a sigh.

“What’s your favorite one?” You respond curiously.

“I don’t really have one.” He says.

“Really?”

“Yeah. What’s yours?”

“I like it here. But I liked Endor too.”

“You like green.” He notes. And you nod, smiling.

“I don’t see many nice planets.” He continues. “I work bounties out of Nevarro.”

“Nevarro? I’ve been there.”

You remember the lava flats and molten ground you walked on. You blush when you realize the two of you might have crossed paths more than you know. Your head turns to him again.

“I can tell you that Tatooine is my least favorite one.” He says while meeting your gaze, you lock eyes. You smile at his words. The last time both of you were on Tatooine, you were about to kill him.

“I don’t like sand.” You note.

“I don’t either.” He says softly.

“Hurts my eyes.” You say while turning your head to look back at the ceiling. A few moments pass.

“You can ask.” You say while chuckling.

“What happened?” His helmet is still turned towards your face.

“Punishment from Davin. I was supposed to bring back someone alive–I came back with their head in my hands.” You close your eyes.

“He dropped me off on some planet that had toxic chemicals in the air. It bleached my pupils–that’s why they're white. Bright things hurt my eyes. And shiny things.” You say playfully, while elbowing his arm, trying to lighten the mood. You don’t think it worked when he remains looking at you, motionless.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

“It’s not your fault.” You reply, although you aren’t sure if he’s apologizing for your punishment or his armor. You look back at him, the two of you gazing at each other.

You feel his arm moving beside you. He grabs your hand, intertwines your fingers, and lays them to rest between your bodies. His thumb rubs your hand again, mimicking his actions yesterday. You smile as you look down to your hands and back up to his visor. You find his eyes immediately–and even though you can’t see him, Din smiles back.

Din sees the gray of his beskar washing over your eyes once again. You’re beautiful. Funny, smart, witty. When your eyes meet his, he feels like maybe you match him perfectly. Maybe when he asks you to stay with him, you’ll listen. But then again, maybe he doesn’t belong with anyone. He definitely doesn’t belong here.

You wonder if you’re meeting his gaze beneath the mask. What his hair looks like. The color of his skin, the curve of his cheek. His eyebrows. Does he have facial hair? Is he even human under the helmet?

A breeze pushes the curtains back and some sunlight spears through the hut, hitting your eyes. It hurts, but you don’t move. You wonder what he thinks of your eyes, maybe if they were normal you could see him better. Maybe if they had color they would absorb his gray and not reflect it.

What color are his?

You don’t talk after that. You don’t think about Omera once.

You don’t know how long you stay frozen under his gaze—your eyes drift closed as the sun sets behind the curtains.

Three.

When you wake up in the Mandalorians hut, your eyes shift from sleepy and half shut to wide and alert. You lay next to him. Your form curled to his side while he lay on his back. He has one arm under your neck, his vambraces removed and set on the ground. One of your hands rest on his chest plate.

You stare at the side of his helmet, with wide eyes. His chest rises and falls gently with soft snores from under his helmet. Fuck.

You remember last night. Sinking into the mattress beside him. Rolling over in your sleep and knocking into his side, his arm lifting up and coming to wrap around your body. His thumb and the way it rubbed the small patch of skin peaking out from under the hem of your top. Kriff. This is bad. This is getting too complicated. His small Yes was seared into the back of your mind, and you can’t help but think he might’ve actually been talking about you.

You stare at the side of his helmet once more. He could be awake, you wonder. He could be holding you because he means it, or he could be sleeping and none the wiser to his actions. You close your eyes and your heart beats more erratically through your chest. You worry its pounding would be strong enough to wake him.

You need to leave.

You remove your hand from his chest plate and carefully sit up, trying not to move the bed too much. You slink out of his arms and out of the bed. The kid sleeps soundly in the pram at the head of it.

You step out of the hut and the morning dew hits your face. The sun is rising over the trees, you guess it's early in the morning. You note which direction your ship is for your travel out of the village later today.

You move towards the dining hut, your stomach growling from having skipped dinner after working with Grogu in the evening. Your cheeks flush as you remember the Mandalorians hands wrapping around your waist, touching your cheek.

You open the curtains to the dining area, your heart drops as you see a figure with their back turned towards the entrance, preparing some food for breakfast.

Omera.

“Oh. Hi.” You say dumbly.

“Saki. Hello.” She turns to greet you with a smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in. I skipped dinner last night.”

“It’s no problem. There’s some fruits and bread over here to hold you over until breakfast.” She points with the wooden spoon in her hand to the table across from her.

“Thank you.” You slink over to the table, trying not to meet her eye. When you steal a glance at her, she is looking back at you. Your cheeks heat and you quickly drop her gaze and place your attention to the food in front of you.

“How is Grogu doing?” She asks innocently. “He’s doing well. Progressing well. He won’t need me soon.” You reply, picking the best smelling fruits in front of you before you make your exit.

“That’s good to hear.” She replies plainly with a sharp smile on her face. “And Mando?” She adds.

“Um, good. They’re both good.” You reply—scared of her intentions regarding asking about the Mandalorian.

“You two have grown close these past few days.” She doesn’t meet your gaze.

“Yeah, the kid is special.”

“I wasn’t talking about the kid.” She stops mixing, her hands resting on the table in front of her, looking at you with knowing eyes and a small smile.

“What?” You almost drop the fruits in your hand.

“Mando.” She replies simply. Although you note how she doesn’t look mad, you can’t bring yourself to meet her eye. Suddenly, all the touches and words feel dirty in your mind. You saw them together. How they looked at each other—and yet, you didn’t stop him through all his actions. You chastise yourself. How could any of that be real when this woman stands beautiful in front of you?

“Omera. I—I'm sorry.” You don’t really know what else to say.

“For what?” She asks. First you think she’s being facetious—knowing she has bested you in this stupid game for his heart. But when you look to meet her eye, you spot genuine curiosity.

“F-for the Mandalorian. For…” When her eyebrows furrow and her head tilts to the side, your features shift to confusion. “—You guys are like…together right?”

“Me and Mando?” She asks with a small laugh. “I thought—”

But a sound breaks the two of you out of your strange gaze and shifts your bodies to turn towards the entrance of the hut. For some reason, you know who it is before your eyes dawn upon a black T and beskar.

“There you are. Hey—uh.” He shifts when he sees you talking to the widow before you.

Fuck.

He wasn’t even talking to you. You spend the night in his bed, his arms, his hut, next to his kid. And he’s not even looking at you.

Right.

How could you have been so stupid? So naive? You feel like everything is moving in slow motion, but yet, time flies by without you.

“The kids need you. They woke me up looking for you.” He's still talking to Omera.

“Oh. Okay. Give me one second.” She pulls the apron off her front, bundles it up and sets it on the table that separates the two of you.

When she moves past the Mandalorian towards the kids, they don’t share a glance. Weird. You note.

Silence enters the hut and the Mandalorian surprisingly doesn’t follow after her. You finish grabbing your fruits and a piece of bread and walk towards him. Hoping he will leave it at that and let you go back to your hut.

“You left early this morning.” He says and his voice tears you out of your train of thought.

“Yeah.” You reply dumbly.

“I was looking for you. Then the kids…they—” You cut him off.

“Yeah. It's okay.” You can’t help but feel lied to. Like he’s making up some lame excuse for when he came in here looking specifically for her. When tears spark at the back of your eyes and your throat suddenly feels tight, you fight his gaze and move to exit quickly. You won't let him see you cry.

“I’ll see you in a bit for Grogu.” You continue when he stands staring like a statue.

He says nothing after that.

You know you’re being childish. But you also know you will be off this planet by sundown.

This is all some stupid game he keeps playing with you. The teasing, the touches. It’s like he wants you in private but plays a role in some superficial life in public. He doesn’t fit in here. You don't fit in here. It's apparent enough. He can play pretend with the girl next door all he wants, but you both know the truth.

As you work with Gorgu, the Mandalorian doesn’t wait outside. He leaves when you arrive. It feels like a slap in the face—especially since you’re leaving tonight. Leaving Sorgan on bad terms makes your stomach twist. You’ll probably never see him again.

He made you feel worth something in those small fleeting moments in his hut or the field. Even if it might’ve left you less whole than when you arrived, more broken, more confused—he made you feel good.

Grogu and you have been growing close. At least that was something. You can see that he has a strong attachment to the Mandalorian and in the back of your head, you worry. After all this, Luke could reject him, but you doubt it. He’s desperate for a school and this kid looks too much like Yoda for him to say no.

You finalize your preparations, tell Gorgu that he needs to reach out to someone named Luke when the Mandalorian takes him to the seeing stone.

You sneak into your pack and pull out some fresh berries you snuck from the dining hut this morning with Omera. You offer them to him and he takes them with a smile. Seeing the kid happy makes your heart full. After all, this wasn’t some trip to get you laid, you truly believed he would bring balance to the force.

Grogu does a couple flips with berries still in his hands despite your protests, and on a particularly precarious looking tumble, you catch him in your hands. He looks up to you, babbling, and then proceeds to vomit all over the front of your shirt.

Great.

The Mandalorian comes in when you were trying to clean up Grogu’s mess.

“What happened?” He moves fast towards you to inspect your shirt, then down to the kid who is none the wiser.

“Nothing–I–sorry. I gave him some berries. He was like jumping and stuff and then he just…” you motion to the front of your shirt. The vomit had remained untouched since you were trying to clean the front of Grogu’s robes first.

“Take that off. Here.” He digs through the baskets near the walls and extends a faded black shirt to you. Your eyes widen.

“No. I’m just gonna go back and change. It’s fine.” You shake your head and step back slightly. Too much. Too complicated. Too domestic. But your hands want to reach out and accept the clothing. It probably smells like him. Your heart flutters at the thought.

“And what? Put your kit on? C’mon just change.”

Kriff. He was right.

“I–okay. Thanks.” You murmur under your breath and take the shirt from his hand.

He picks Grogu up and turns, letting you change. Considerate–you note–despite his wandering hands days prior.

His shirt falls over your frame and when you slide it over your head, his scent pushes through your nose. Woodsy. Gun powder. Something synthetic, maybe gun oil or armor polish. It flutters through you and makes your heart beat ten times faster.

“Okay.” You say when the shirt falls past your hips, hitting the middle of your thighs—you feel the hem as you roll it through your fingers. He turns at the indication you’re done changing.

He stares at you. You can feel his gaze. He holds Gorgu in his right arm, places him in his pram, and shuts the doors. He takes a step toward you, experimentally. When you don’t react, another. And then another.

“He’ll be done soon.” You snap out of your trance. You remember this morning. Omera. His excuses.

“What?”

“Grogu. He’s doing good. You can take him to the seeing stone soon.” You gesture towards the pram.

“He’ll be done soon.” He echoes your previous statement.

“Yes.” you whisper.

He tilts his head slowly, coming closer to you. You don’t even recall when he got so close.

“Is that what you want?” His hand hovers over your hip, but not touching you yet.

“I–I want what’s best for—” His actions cut your words. His hand gripping your waist tightly. He rubs your skin through his shirt tenderly and tugs on it a little.

“You want what’s best for who?” He prods. Teasing you. He massages you more, bringing you closer to him, his hand around your back, beginning to move slowly, dangerously, down your body.

“I–I w–want…” You stutter, but his hands barely brush over the curve of your ass and you lose your train of thought. Your hands move to his chestplate softly, your feeble attempts to stop this before you couldn’t anymore.

“C’mon. Tell me.”

You look up, unable to make words come out of your throat, settling for a quiet whimper that drives Din insane. He knows what he’s doing to you. It’s a game to him, you realize. Making you so flustered you can’t even string together a sentence. He knows his effect.

“You want me to stop?” He continues when you say nothing but whimper.

“N-no. I–”

“No? Then what? Keep going, use your words.” His tone cuts deep to your belly. He pushes his hand up your back and flanks your sides, his hand brushing against your breast, pushing over the swell of it, his thumb barely touching your nipple through his shirt. Maybe this is the part where the helmet comes off, and he’s beautiful, and you fall in love. But maybe this is also reality. And you can't bring yourself to indulge in someone you know you will never be able to let go of.

“I–I–fuck–I can’t.” You step back, silently whining from his hand’s release on your body. “I–” you try to explain. To say anything. But you malfunction like a droid. His touch is permanently burned into you. Silence passes between you as he steps back.

“You can’t.” He confirms—like he didn’t hear you right. His head hangs and then looks back at you. You take another step back. This is it—saying no to him, his advances—this settles it.

“I-I’m sorry.”

You leave the hut with tears streaming down your face. The silence deafening between you two for longer than you can count. You left the Mandalorian, giving him a half assed response, something about how you needed to get some rest. You don’t really remember much after his touch left your body. It hurts your heart, the thought that maybe he does want you. Maybe you’re worth something—but even more so that you have to leave.

You pack up quickly, the sun setting on the horizon. You have overstayed your welcome. Davin would be after you soon. You needed to go back to him before he got off world. You leave your hut and make way to your ship near town.

Settling in the finality of it, you look up to the pink sky.

You thought you weren’t going back to Davin, but after all this, there was nowhere else to go. You knew what was waiting for you on Coruscant and even though you weren’t sure if you were ready to face it, you knew hiding forever was not in your future.

Not again.

Chapter Six: The Stage

Taglist: Let me know if you want to be added!!

@iammissdoddydoodagrimes @dinwifey @n7cje

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typellblog · 1 year

Text

The contradiction of Illya in Fate/stay night

Duality is at the core of Illya’s presentation in FSN. She displays both kindness and brutality, childishness and maturity, being at the same time Shirou’s younger and older sister. This can lead some to the conclusion that she has two different personalities, but is that really true?

I would argue that what’s going on here isn’t a swapping between innocence and ruthlessness, but rather a juxtaposition – both present at once. In her first encounter with Shirou, she’s smiling sweetly, ordering Berserker to kill him in a sing-song tone. Many of her funniest moments are when she seems like she’s behaving and then casually says something insane.

Shirou is initially surprised by her conduct when he meets her during the day, but as she herself says, the rules of the Grail War are that it’s to be carried out at night. It’s not as if the sun going up caused her murder gremlin transformation to wear off – she would be perfectly happy to do all those things in the daylight if she had a good enough reason.

As a result, Shirou hypothesizes that she doesn’t know what she’s doing. She doesn’t really want to kill people, right? She seems so nice . . . (only Shirou would think this about someone who literally almost had his stomach removed from his body)

But after she kills Shinji and threatens Saber and Rin, Shirou realises that this behaviour isn’t inconsistent at all – Illya simply has no reason to believe killing is wrong in the first place.

Here, Illya is described as not seeing Saber as human because she’s a Servant.

But consider Illya’s understanding of the term ‘Servant’: something that belongs to her, stays by her side, and protects her. It's why she asks Shirou to become her Servant, and why she ends up developing such a close relationship with Berserker.

I think her attitude towards Saber isn't specific to Servants - she likely feels that way about most people.

There's actually a really simple explanation for this: almost all of the people she interacted with while growing up were Einzbern homunculi! The kind of person that you would be most justified in not considering a person. When you think about it that way there's a self-deprecating element to it, because of course she's aware that she's also a tool designed to complete the Third Magic.

Her intentions towards Shirou only make sense if she thinks of him as an object, rather than a person. Look at her room in the Einzbern Castle – it’s filled with dolls, and there’s a pretty strong implication that Shirou, tied up in a chair, is just another one of them to her. Her feelings for Shirou are characterized by her wanting him – and if she can’t have him, nobody can.

This initial mindset also explains some of the confusion surrounding her Bad Ends (I will touch on these in more detail in a later post).

For example, when Shirou jumps in front of Berserker to save Saber, Illya is shocked and leaves, but in the Bad End where he runs away she happily goes ahead and finishes him off.

I think it’s clear that what she was surprised by was Shirou's willingness to sacrifice himself to protect Saber.

It can be interpreted as a flash of empathy from Illya - realising that Shirou has his own internal life and people he cares about beyond the role she slotted him into as ‘Kiritsugu’s stupid kid’ means she can't enjoy torturing him like she planned to.

Now, there is one respect in which it might be reasonable to argue that Illya adopts a different persona from normal.

For ease of reference, I’ll call it ‘Master mode’ and it happens when she makes a face like the following.

The furrowed brow and direct look are characteristic of Illya when she’s acting as a magus, and it’s striking to see her suddenly switching to this mode in the middle of a conversation.

In this mode, she’s capable of both being more demeaning towards others, but also much more formal, curtseying and introducing herself.

It’s important to note that in both cases, she’s talking about matters related to the Grail War and her position as a mage/Master. Indeed, the invocation of her family name is what gets Rin to react to her self-introduction.

This is intimately connected to her role as Master insofar as she’s a Master because she’s an Einzbern – another way of putting it is that she’s interchangeable with any other Einzbern homunculus besides the fact she’s a Master.

In this way the Einzbern name becomes totalizing and turns Illya into a tool.

Illya finds it easy to flip back and forth between Master mode, though. The moment when she threatens Shirou in the shopping district is only a moment, and she instantly goes back to how she was before once he agrees to go with her.

On the subject of how she was before, I suppose we ought to discuss what provokes this change in the first place.

In their first encounter in daytime, Shirou pushes Illya when trying to get her to stop, which results in her making this face.

This is her ‘default face’, the first one that comes up in the VN files.

Usually these portray a character’s default setting, when they’re not expressing any emotion in particular, but Illya is usually so expressive that this one comes off as quite cold in comparison.

Which is what it’s used for!

It comes up when Shirou asks her to stop being a Master, when Shirou ignores her just before she captures him, and when Shirou is about to decide whether he’ll let her stay with him or not.

And in many of these situations, it’s a moment of pause, where she shuts off her emotions before entering Master mode.

Looking at this, it seems clear to me that Master mode emerges here as a defense mechanism. Illya chooses to adopt a persona that’s colder, harsher, and less vulnerable that her usual mode of behaviour – one that she’s learnt as a response to painful situations in the past.

In other words, Master mode is just a mask that she will temporarily put on in some situations. The ‘real Illya’ - if such a thing exists - is more aligned with her playful and less serious side.

On the subject of Illya's playful side, the fact that what provokes Illya initially is not anything Shirou said, but rather a physical action, is a motif that comes up a few times.

In general, there’s a physicality to interacting with Illya that isn’t there as much with other characters – for example, this sprite seems specifically designed so that it looks like Illya is close up to you and grabbing your hand, trying to drag you around, even.

Saber will get close but mostly just by zooming into her regular sprite. Illya will just directly invade your personal space. So sometimes, Shirou gets fed up and tries to push her away, as we have seen. He repeats this again much later in the dojo, and Illya briefly shows a frightened face.

Another more fun way in which a similar dynamic plays out is when Saber is chasing Illya and trying to get her off Shirou.

The sprites used tell a pretty clear story of Illya playing around, Saber trying to grab her, Illya being frightened, Saber going ‘oh shit did I just hurt this child’, and then Illya smiles like she’s having a great time.

Saber wonders if Illya was just faking her earlier fright, and as if to confirm her suspicions, Illya sticks her tongue out. And Saber’s back to impotently chasing her around.

Clearly, Illya is experimenting with boundaries. She’s not used to being physically close to other people, so she doesn’t know what the limits are, and she’s not used to other people using force on her either.

If anything, this reminds me of an animal that isn’t used to being around humans yet - Shirou even explicitly compares her to one.

This is around where it hit me that Illya isn’t human, exactly. Multiple times Shirou refers to her as a ‘winter fairy’, and there’s definitely something otherworldly about her.

Take the very first scene she appears to warn Shirou and then immediately disappear again. It feels almost like a dream, especially as the narrative transitions right into the next scene without referring to it ever again.

The fact that she’s the child of a homunculus isn’t what I mean by ‘not human’ – homunculi can clearly have a similar experience and range of emotions to humans. Her general strangeness is far more a product of spending most of her time alone and secluded inside a winter castle.

It’s part of the reason why Shirou gives her food in the first place. Look at what they’re talking about directly beforehand. Illya mentions that she was locked up in her room for a long time, so she wants to sneak outside now she’s in Japan.

It’s ‘she swings her legs and it seems she’s having fun just doing so’ that really gets me, though. Like, just that is enough for you?

From the beginning of the story, Illya is presented as both wealthy and powerful.

However, the symbol of that power, Berserker, caused her physical harm and was forced on her without consent.

Similarly, the symbol of that wealth, the Einzbern Castle, is used as a prison to keep Illya inside.

She seems far more authentically free when she’s living at Shirou’s place without any of those things.

This is the third of about thirty analytical essays on Fate/Stay Night that I will be reposting here (with significant edits) from Reddit.

I'm trying to move in roughly chronological order here, hence a lot of Illya's HF characterization isn't addressed yet, but I really like how she's portrayed in the Fate route as well, so this is a good start I think.

#fate/stay night #fate #type moon #fsn analysis #illyasviel von einzbern #illya

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idiotwhowritesshipstuff · 1 year

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HAPPY BDAY!! 🎉🎊 SORRY IF THIS MAY KR MAY NOT BE LATE..!

Also, sorry bruv didn’t know bout my last request. Buut if your willing to do it without yandere.. I want to see if you are A-okay with doing it with Tsurugi(dra vers), and Shinji(sdra2) ? I was going to ask for yuki but bro doesn’t deserve this much trauma BUT same request just replacing Akane, and Kanade with Tsurugi, and Shinji

-🐒

You certainly know how to pick them for this scenario 😂 You picked the ones who would have the worst reactions lmao.

Thanks for the birthday greeting! I took a while to respond as I've had family over this past few weeks and I recently got P5R as a gift which I've been binging (I've just beaten the fourth palace lol)

For convenience I will refer to the blackened best friend as F/N or "friend's name". If people find this cringey I'll edit it out

F/N's motive in Tsurugi's is left in the air but with Shinji they're a Void

TW: Tsurugi's beliefs, reader dies

DRA Tsurugi Kinjo and Shinji Kasai with a reader who sacrificed themselves for their blackened friend

Ever since you two started dating, Tsurugi has preached his beliefs about criminal scum onto you. To enter into a relationship with him you have to either agree with him or be someone who can actually cause his beliefs to genuinely falter in a way that avoids breaking his mind. Considering your later actions, you clearly fall into the latter category.

Considering Tsurugi's past with his late best friend, he's always had an appreciation for your close friendship with F/N. His friendship with Kouhei was ripped away from him by a bomb and he sincerely hopes that this killing game won't be what rips you two apart. He would frequently tell you how he vows to protect you two so that your friendship gets the happy ending he didn't get to have.

With how isolated Tsurugi is from the group, his relationship with F/N is wholly dependent on if they're as willing as you are to look past his psycho cop behavior. Tsurugi would love to be friends with F/N as he knows how precious they are to you but he's also not going to push it since pushing it would just upset them and in turn upset you which he wouldn't want to do.

When a body shows up and investigation starts, he investigates and comes to a grim realization. He would end up triple checking all the evidence and facts for your sake but the truth becomes very clear to Tsurugi after his autopsy and analysis of the crime: F/N is the killer.

He plans to break it to you before the trial starts to spare you the horror of finding out in the middle of the class trial and so you can get away from the criminal but he doesn't get the chance to talk to you about it in private due to F/N clinging to you and instead just spends the entire trial antagonizing them and is much harsher to them than he ever was on Akane. Friendships are something to be treasured and the fact they threw away their friendship with you by becoming a criminal disgusts him.

Your choice to defend them throughout the trial is something that angers Tsurugi but is something he can rationalize, you've been long time friends with them, you didn't just meet at the start of the killing game, once you see the facts you have to accept the truth that is painfully right in front of you so he alongside Yuki and Rei break down every shred of evidence that could imply F/N's innocence and leave you two devastated.

When F/N is convicted, his first move is to comfort you. He's not sorry for how harsh he was with you to ensure F/N's vote but he is sorry he wasn't able to rip the bandaid off early with you. You two would end up fighting over the fact you still want to be near F/N after Monokuma confirms their the killer and your classmates would likely have to step in to prevent a massive argument from ensuing.

Tsurugi's too disgusted with F/N to even bother looking at them so doesn't pay attention to the execution until Akane screams out that you're in the execution. He immediately yells at Monokuma to stop the execution since you shouldn't be there but Monokuma refuses since you being there was your own conscious choice.

He would likely try to get to the execution to drag you out but he's stopped by Monokuma and Rei who say its impossible so he's simply left in the courtroom, staring at the screen, desperately hoping for a miracle that allows you to get out of the punishment without F/N who he blames for this entire situation.

When you die alongside F/N, the fire that was in him as he demanded Monokuma stop the execution is completely put out. His mind breaks at the sight of you and F/N's death. When he had begun dating you, he had sworn to protect you both but here he was, a complete and utter failure in that regard.

Yuki would have to coax him to even move as Monokuma cackles in glee at his despair, asking him to say something over the pathetic death of his partner who died trying to save someone being punished for disturbing the group's harmony. He doesn't end up saying anything and runs off the second he's allowed to, no one except Rei would have the heart to comment on it as Tsurugi's heartbreak is palpable enough that even Haru, the guy vehemently against him, says to give him space.

He's just so confused why you would did what you did. Yuki had explained in complete detail how F/N inhumanely chose to end the life of your precious classmate yet you ran in to save them? Did you not understand that by becoming the blackened F/N was no longer your friend? They were planning to let you and everyone else die for their own selfish wishes and yet you ignored that and tried to stop their execution?

What happens to Tsurugi after these events is essentially his downward spiral in SDRA2 but at a faster pace. He had hope of recovering and becoming a better man with you by his side but with you gone at a death that was ultimately meaningless, and his future conga line of trauma at the hands of the death game that won't stop attacking everything he's built his life on, Tsurugi would break apart and be left with nothing but his corrupted sense of justice.

Shinji had always advocated for getting the Voids to join the group and betray Mikado to end the killing game once and for all. He was glad you agreed with his beliefs about the Voids since as more and more killings happened, the class grew angrier and angrier at the Voids.

He's always found it sweet that you managed to get in the same class as a long time friend of yours. When you two started dating, he would've befriended F/N and offers to train them much like he does with Yuki (albeit with a very red face if they're a girl).

As the group fractures more and more, he would try his best to ensure you and F/N stuck together as friends. You had absolute faith in your friendship with F/N so Shinji would rest easy on the matter of your friendship and instead would vow to protect you two so you don't get split apart and become victims of the killing game. If he were more observant, he would've noticed the cryptic nature of F/N's responses to him saying things like that but whenever he gets a slightly off feeling from them, he brushes them off as soon as he sees you happy with them.

When the body is discovered, he stands guard near the body but questions if he should when you are suspected for the murder due to a skeptical alibi and some evidence suggesting its you. You assure him that he should do his job and leave investigating to Kanade and Sora which he can't disagree with, those two are much better at class trials than he is and he worries he would get in the way of the trial.

When suspicion is moved from you and F/N, it's unclear just who is more defensive of them between you and Shinji. Shinji doesn't have the most sound arguments to defend F/N but much like he defended Hajime, he'll defend them when there's even the slightest bit of hope they may be innocent because he just can't fathom why F/N would commit a crime then pin it on you.

After Sora cuts down both of your arguments and F/N is outed as a Void, Shinji is the one seeking answers for their motive and plan. He had trusted in them and they had seen firsthand that he was willing to work alongside the Voids to escape Utsuroshima so just why did they kill someone for Mikado?

As their long time friend, you likely have an idea as to why they're so desperate but it's highly unlikely you have all the details. Shinji would try to evoke what he did with Emma in asking if they're really okay with dying at the hands of Monocrow. Similarly to Emma, the answer is no but of course Monocrow and Mikado don't care about any pleas for clemency and commence the execution.

You would have to move extremely fast to somehow get as far as the execution without Shinji grabbing onto you to either help you get F/N away from the chain or grabbing you to save your life. It's most likely that he did grab you in time and you tried to save F/N together, Mikado is the one to separate you three with you gripping onto F/N hard enough to get dragged into the execution with them.

Overwhelming anger washes through Shinji as you die alongside your best friend. Mikado tries to spew some excuse as to why he was unable to separate you from F/N in time but Sora would point out the fact he managed to separate Shinji from you so she finds it extremely unlikely he couldn't have separated you from F/N. When he cackles at Sora's observation, Yuki would have to hold back Shinji from breaking the no violence rule.

When they're ordered to leave the class trial, a part of Shinji doesn't want to go. This was the last place you were ever alive, why can't be allowed just one more minute in the room where you were? He would leave if execution awaited him for staying and he would confide in Yuki or Setsuka for help in how to cope with the situation. The situation doesn't change his stance on the Voids as the fact you cared enough about F/N to die with them proves the Voids aren't heartless beasts but every time he advocates for the group to get together and fight Mikado as a class, he can't help but be haunted by the memory of you and F/N, the pair of friends who he vowed to protect.

#mod monaca #danganronpa x reader #sdra2 x reader #dra x reader #danganronpa another x reader #super danganronpa another 2 x reader #danaganronpa another #super danganronpa another 2 #danganronpa #tsurugi kinjo #tsurugi kinjo x reader #shinji kasai #shinji kasai x reader #🐒 anon

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vioartemis · 1 year

Note

max x werewolf reader. angst then fluff

Every part of you

(Max Mayfield x fem! werewolf! reader)

Summary: It's the full moon, and you completely forgot. Being a werewolf, that announces nothing good, and your secret might not be one for so long.. Part 1 || Part 2 Warnings: angst (?) (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

You were fucked. You forgot it was tonight. You had to be quick. To run as fast as you could. Your lungs were burning. Your legs were getting weak. You didn't care. You had to make it there in time.

He was waiting for you. He seemed angry. Worried maybe. You didn't know, nor did you care.

You rushed into the cabin, stopping only to sit on the metallic chair in the middle of the room, out of breath.

"Where were you? You're almost late Y/n!" he said, tying you to the chair with big chains.

"I.. I'm sorry... I.. I know..."

He then grabbed a muzzle, to prevent you from making any noises that could draw attention to you, and so protecting innocent people.

He quickly made sure you couldn't escape, before exiting the cabin and closing the door, telling you he'd came back the next day.

You started to feel dizzy, ears buzzing, while your body started to hurt. Your vision was blurred, you could barely think anymore.

You felt the chains sinking into your skin as your transformation began, and everything turned black.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

The next morning, a worried Max was knocking at El's door.

"Have you seen Y/n?" she asked immediately after the brunette opened the door "I heard her sneaking out last night, I thought she would be back quickly, but she wasn't here when I woke up!"

Without letting El say a word, Max entered the house, just to stop as she saw you sitting on a chair, wrists red and marked by what seemed chains, with Hopper by your side, trying to bandage you.

"Y/n..? What happened? Are you okay?"

She rushed toward you, concern visible in her eyes.

"I-it's nothing I-I'm fine Max.."

She could see you weren't. You looked so tired. Like you fought all night long. Which wasn't so far from the truth actually.

"No, you're not fine! Look at you..! You know you can tell me everything right? Do you have problems? I can help you get through it, just talk to me.."

"I-" you glanced at Hopper, not knowing what to answer.

He nodded slightly, finishing what he was doing.

"Can we... can we go outside..?" you said, standing up

"Is it that bad?"

You didn't answered, and grabbed your girlfriend's hand, leading her outside nervously.

"Y/n-"

"Max. It's not what you think.. it's just- I-I don't even know how to say it.."

You took a deep breath, shaking slightly in anticipation of her reaction.

"I- I'm not like you.."

"What do you mean?"

She seemed confused, which was understandable.

"I'mawerewolf"

"What?"

"I'm a werewolf..."

"What...?"

"..."

You didn't know what to say. You felt bad, not having told her.

"So.. you're a werewolf..? The kind that transforms and go nuts and kills everything they meet?"

"No it's not-"

"You are a werewolf and you didn't tell me?"

The little shake in her voice wasn't concern anymore. It was anger.

"I-"

"We slept in the same bed! We spend night out together! You could've killed me, Y/n! Do you even realize you put everyone in danger?!"

"Max-"

You tried to grab her hand, but she jumped away from you.

"Don't touch me."

Your heart dropped at her words, eyes full of tears.

"I can't believe you lied to me."

"I didn't lie to you..! I.. I didn't know how to tell you..! But I love you! I would never hurt you Max! I can control-"

"Why where you here then? Getting bandaged by Hopper? Didn't your transformation went wrong?!"

"... It was the full moon..! It's the only day I can't control it! Max please I swear-"

"Enough! I don't want to hear more of that."

She turned around, and started to walk away.

"Max wait let me-"

"I don't want to talk to you why don't you understand that?!"

She had never raised her voice at you before, not like that. She hated you. You felt it. You felt your heart break into million pieces. You felt tears running down your cheeks.

You didn't try to stop her again, just watching her going away from you.

You heard someone coming in your direction, but you weren't in a talkative mood, so you ran away, eyes shut, tears blurring your vision.

You wanted to be alone. Alone with your pain.

You stopped running after you were sure to be far away in the woods, where no one would find you. Then, you sat against a tree, and cried. And screamed. And swore. You let everything go out.

You felt like you were stabbed directly in your heart. Multiple times. You should've told her. You knew it. But you didn't think she would be that mad... You felt empty, like you lost a part of yourself.

Since you met Max, your life completely changed. You found a reason to live, someone that mattered to you, a family.

And now she was gone.

Max was mad. Really mad. Mad at you, for not telling her you were a werewolf. Mad at herself, for not being here enough for you. Because if you didn't tell her, that meant you didn't trust her. That meant you weren't sure she would react in a good way.

She felt bad now. Because she yelled at you. Because you were scared, and she made your fears come true.

"Shit..."

She bit her nails, thinking she hurt you badly. She would apologise as soon as you got home. Because you would come home.

But you weren't here when the sun went down. She took her coat, and sneaked out of the house, decided to find you. She didn't know where you could be, so she went to the last place she knew you were.

But You weren't there. However, El told her she saw you running in the woods after your fight.

She was afraid something bad happened to you. Maybe you were hurt. Maybe you were in danger. Because of her.

So she ran into the forest, alone, with only one thing in mind: you.

You didn't realize it was that late, as you were lost in your thoughts, eyes red because of how much you cried. What brought you back to reality was her sent, coming from far away, and her voice, calling your name.

You stood up slowly, not believing your senses. She was here..? For you..?

You could hear her footsteps. It was like she was running. But she was so far away from you.. And so alone.. At night.. In the woods..

You started to run in her direction, worried. This was a dangerous place at night. There was a ton of creatures here. And they were hungry.

Thanks to your capacities you found her pretty quickly, and let at a sight of relief seing she was doing okay. As you took a step forward, a branch cracked under your feet, causing her to turn around suddenly.

"S-sorry... I didn't mean to scare yo-"

You could barely finish you sentence because of how tight she was now hugging you.

"I'm so sorry Y/n.. I shouldn't have reacted like that.. I love you.. every part of you.."

You quickly melted into the hug and held her close, relieved and happy that she didn't hate you.

"I should have told you sooner.. I'm sorry.." you murmured, not letting go of her

"No more secrets between us..?" she asked

"No more secrets"

You finally broke the hug, gently taking her hand in yours.

"We shouldn't stay here.. it's dangerous at night"

"Let's go home"

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

You both arrived safely and immediately went into Max's room, only taking the time to put on your pyjamas before sliding under the covers of her bed. She wrapped her arms around you as you found a confortable position against her.

Neither of you talked much, simply appreciating each other's company in a confortable silence. The redhead was playing with your hair and planting soft kisses on your forehead, while you were whispering sweet nothings to her.

After a little while, you tilted your head up to look at her, only to find her already looking at you.

"Can I be the big spoon this time?" you asked

A smile made its way up to her face.

"Why this question, all of a sudden?"

"You're always the big spoon, I never get to pet you" you pouted

"Oh but I like petting you and kissing your forehead while you sleep.. And I just have to lower my gaze to see your beautiful face.. I'm not ready to lose that privilege, sorry"

She smirked at your reaction, thinking you looked cute.

"Maybe another time, but right now I just want to cuddle for the rest of the night, like we always do.."

"Yeah? Next time then!"

She kissed you lovingly, whispering a "I love you". You smiled, putting yourself back in your previous position, happy that things ended well.

People said wolves are in love with the moon, and that it's why werewolves are forced to transformed when it's full, to cry for a love they would never touch.

You found your moon. And her name was Max Mayfield.

#max mayfield #max mayfield x reader #stranger things #max mayfield x female reader #max mayfield x fem reader

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