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theladyofbloodshed · 3 months

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Chapter 1

Notes: This is set after the canon events of ACOSF when Nesta and Cassian go to the Prison. Instead of opening the wards to the cells, she ends up in Lunathion. Bryce doesn't exist in this universe and no magic language beans are required.

Nesta could not do more than twitch her fingertips as an invisible, oppressive weight bore into her, like it’d flatten her into dust upon the starry ground of the strange chamber in the Prison.

Let go, she silently bade the Harp, gritting her teeth, fingers brushing over the nearest string. Free me, you blasted thing.

A beautiful, haughty voice answered, full of music so lovely it broke her heart to hear it. I do not appreciate your tone.

With that the Harp pushed into her harder, and Nesta roared silently. Her nail scraped over the string again. Let me go!

Gone was Cassian’s voice. He was kept out by the wards, witnessing it all.

Shall I open a door for you, then?

Yes! Damn you, yes!

It has been a long while, sister, since I played. I shall need time to remember the right combinations…

Don’t play games. Nesta chilled at the word it had used. Sister. Like she and this thing were one and the same.

The small strings are for games—light movement and leaping—but the longer, the final ones … Such deep wonders and horrors we could strum into being. Such great and monstrous magic I wrought with my last minstrel. Shall I show you?

No. Just let me out.

As you wish. Pluck the first string, then.

Nesta didn’t hesitate as her fingertip curled over the first string, grasping and then releasing it. A musical laugh filled her mind, but the weight lifted. Vanished.

And then everything swirled around her like she was being sucked down a plughole into a vast emptiness. The stars on the floor span, turning white with their speed.

Nesta clung to the Harp as wind whipped her face. She was falling – but into what, she didn’t know. It reminded her of the Cauldon, that endless dark, the never-ending cold. Nesta drifted through space and time until she plummeted downwards.

Her body hit stone, taking the wind out of her.

Nesta blinked, trying to right herself. The lights around her were blurred but there was noise – chatter and distant music.

A bright light came towards her. A long, blaring sound pierced her ears. There was a screech and the light stopped feet from her body curled on the stone.

‘What the fuck,’ came a female voice.

Something slammed and footsteps sounded. ‘Are you alright? I nearly hit you. You landed in the middle of the road.’

‘Move back. Official 33rd business,’ a male voice said.

Nesta was shaking. The bright lights were still in her eyes. Her hip and leg throbbed from the landing.

‘She’s armed, Hunt,’ somebody said.

The male who’d spoken gave a wearied sigh. ‘Ten minutes left of our shift and a fae has to leap in front of a car.’ He stepped closer to her. ‘Hands up. Don’t reach for the sword.’

Something silver and metallic was pointed at her by his hands. The male was fae. Or, looked it. He had wings similar to the Peregryn that she’d met in the Dawn Court with beautiful, grey feathers. Across his brow was a tattoo. Sable hair hung to his shoulders. The other male was slightly shorter with white feathers and fair hair.

Neither was dressed like anybody she’d seen before. Their clothes reminded her slightly of Illyrian leathers but the materials were different.

Nesta looked around, now that her eyes had adjusted to the light. Nobody was dressed in familiar clothing. People had small rectangles in their hands bearing lights and sounds. The fair haired male tutted and started moving them off, saying she was not a spectacle.

‘I’m going to need you to slide that sword over to me in its sheath. Do you understand?’

Where was she? This wasn’t Prythian.

Where are we?

The Harp refused to respond to her, going mute in this strange, new world.

‘Hey,’ the male with grey wings said, not unkindly. ‘Slide it over now.’

Slowly, Nesta reached for Ataraxia and pushed it across the smooth stone towards him. He kept his metal object pointed at her as he bent down and slung her sword over a shoulder.

‘Now your instrument.’

The other male had returned and collected that. He turned it from side to side, examining it. The first handed the sword to him. ‘Fly those to Vik. Get her to run her tests on them. I’ll bring her in.’

***

Ten minutes. That was all they had left after seven days straight. Hunt was looking forward to a glorious day off but Logan had said they should walk back to the 33rd rather than fly. If they flew, they still likely would have seen a female fall from the sky, but they could have pretended it didn’t happen and finished their shift on time. Now, it meant hours of questioning plus paperwork for what he guessed was an undocumented fae who’d rocked up in Lunathion.

The female in question seemed compliant thus far. Hunt hadn’t cuffed her. She was a skinny thing that couldn’t overpower him. From the spike of her ears, she was fae, not human. After basic questioning, they’d likely call in the captain of the aux from the fae side – and Hunt planned to be in his bed by then. Technically, this female had done nothing wrong except fall from the sky with a sword and nearly be hit by a car. It was strange enough though that Micah would demand their heads if they hadn’t brought her in. He was off in the north, summoned by the Asteri. Peace for once.

‘Where are you taking me?’

He kept his hand clasped around her upper arm as they walked. ‘To the 33rd.’

She frowned. ‘The 33rd what?’

Hunt glanced at her. ‘Legion.’

How had she never heard of the 33rd? Who the hell was this?

‘Are you fae?’

She must have hit her head hard. Hunt ushered her along, surveying her for obvious injuries as they went. ‘No. Malakim. Definitely not fae.’

Her silver eyes stared at him then at the ground, processing something. A med-witch would need to see her to remove her concussion.

Hunt led her to one of their interrogation rooms. The white walls looked yellow beneath the lights and she shielded her eyes from it. It was protocol to at least chain her to the table to prevent her from running, but from the bewildered expression on her face, Hunt couldn’t do it.

‘Do you want a coffee?’

‘Coffee?’

‘I’ll get you a coffee,’ he said, offering a tight smile as he backed out of the room.

He met Isaiah in the corridor.

‘Viktoria’s already working on the items. Both are definitely imbued with magic,’ he said by way of greeting. ‘Logan’s filled me in. Fell from the sky?’

‘Yup. Literally.’ Hunt pressed the coffee cup into his hand. ‘I don’t think she knows what coffee is so good luck.’

Isaiah gave a short laugh. ‘Do you think she’s one of the Avallen Fae?’

‘I have no fucking clue where she is from. Another planet by the looks of things.’

Naomi was waiting behind the interrogation room, computer at the ready. Hunt waited behind the screen of glass too as Isaiah introduced himself and put the cup of coffee in front of her. From the thin frame, Hunt should have grabbed her a snack too. She wore leathers like she was about to do battle. The sword would explain that too – but not the instrument. It seemed to be a common theme that swords were toted by pricks in Lunathion, however this female seemed not too bad so far.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Nesta.’

‘A last name?’

‘Archeron.’

Naomi’s fingers flew over the keyboard. ‘Not a single Archeron in history. Or a Nesta.’

‘I don’t think she’s lying,’ Hunt murmured. It would be a strange name to make up. Better if she gave a common one.

Isaiah spoke gently. ‘What house are you aligned with, Nesta?’

Nesta blinked a few times then, ‘Uh. The House of Wind.’

There was another click of keys beside him then Naomi drew a blank again.

‘What can your magic do?’

‘I don’t have magic.’

‘Why do you have a magical Harp?’

‘I’m a bard.’

The delivery was so flat from Nesta that Hunt couldn’t help but snort with laughter.

Isaiah’s wings flexed at the table. ‘Will you play for me?’

Nesta inspected her nails. ‘I don’t play for free.’

‘What’s the sword for?’

‘When people don’t pay me,’ she quipped.

This female had woken up and found her dry sense of humour then. Hunt examined her through the glass. She didn’t look like the fae of Lunathion. The majority had the same colouring as the king – red hair, tanned skin. Others were brown-haired. The prince was a rarity with black hair, but not unheard of. It tended to be the Avallen fae who were blonde. She certainly fitted the description for now with a limited knowledge of technology; she’d stared at everybody’s cell-phones with utmost confusion. But even Avallen fae knew how to use technology when they left their misty isles.

‘Which king did you pledge allegiance to?’

At that, Nesta gave a harsh laugh. ‘None of them and I never will.’

‘Who is the king of Avallen?’

‘Fionn,’ she said, brandishing her hands in the air with disinterest.

‘Danaan is here,’ a voice said over the intercom. ‘Sending him down.’

Ruhn Danaan was captain of the fae auxiliary unit and exemplified what it meant to be a fae prick. One day, he’d also be their king. And Hunt could not stand him.

He swaggered in, tongue flicking against his lip-ring. ‘This better be good, Athalar.’

Hunt gestured to Nesta Archeron currently stonewalling Isaiah as he attempted to interrogate her on her origins.

‘Don’t know her,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Wish I did.’

‘Is she one of the Avallen fae?’

‘No idea,’ replied Ruhn in a blasé tone. Hunt could stink alcohol on him. Likely the prince had been with his little pals doing what they did best and partying until dawn.

Sensing his frustrations, Naomi stepped in. ‘She fell from the sky. There’s no record of her family name in the history of Midgard. Nesta isn’t aligned to any house, seemingly has no knowledge of Lunathion. She cannot name either fae king – but did mention Fionn. She came with a sword imbued with magic – and a Harp.’

Ruhn finally took notice. He leaned closer to the glass, nose almost touching it. ‘Her eyes are silver.’

‘A fascinating conclusion, Danaan.’

‘Let me talk to her.’

It was Isaiah’s call so he allowed the prince into the interrogation room, claiming that not only was he fae royalty which gave Ruhn a pass to do what he liked in the city, but also a member of the aux. When he entered, Nesta knew him. Her eyes went wide then she stared down at her lap, murmuring something to herself.

‘Hi,’ said Ruhn who turned the chair around and leant his chest against the back. ‘Your coffee’s going cold.’

Nesta raised the cup to her mouth to take a sip then promptly spat it back out. ‘That’s vile.’

‘Need sugar?’

She folded her arms across her body. Anybody else would have called for their lawyer now or asked what they were being charged with. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Nesta seemed more interested in the security camera and even the lights above her head.

‘Are you high fae?’ she asked Ruhn.

‘I’m fae,’ he said. ‘Vanir. What other Vanir do you know?’

Nesta swallowed. Eventually, she suggested, ‘Illyrians?’

Ruhn gave an encouraging nod and lied that he knew them. Beside Hunt, Naomi was doing her best to search for the term.

‘Who else?’

‘Peregryns.’

‘Yeah. Peregryns.’ Ruhn gave another nod. ‘Those big birds that brought you to the 33rd. What are they?’

‘Malakim.’

Which she only knew because Hunt had told her.

‘What’s Sabine?’

‘I don’t know her,’ she replied.

Well, shit. She definitely was not from Lunathion because everybody knew Sabine, unfortunately. Naomi’s laptop made a pinging sound. ‘Toxicology report. Nothing in her system. Not even a drop of alcohol. Definitely no drugs.’

On arrival, the on-duty med-witch had given her a once over but had not found any major injuries beyond a few bruises from her heavy landing.

Isaiah drummed his fingers on his watch face. ‘We can’t hold her for anything. By rights, we’ve held her longer than necessary with nothing to charge her for.’

‘She’s clearly not from here.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I’m reluctant to call Micah back until we have full specs on the items that she brought with her.’

‘We can keep those for a week,’ said Naomi.

Ruhn emerged from the room, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his long, black hair. ‘She’s fae. Definitely. No idea where she’s from though.’ Ruhn pulled out his cell.

‘Calling daddy?’

He threw Hunt a grin. ‘Not a chance. I’ll keep her at mine.’

‘No,’ said Hunt with a snort. ‘Do you think we’ll hand over a disorientated female to you and your little pals?’

‘Careful with what you’re insinuating, angel.’

Isaiah cleared his throat. ‘Until we know more, Nesta Archeron is a free citizen of Lunathion, not under anyone’s jurisdiction.’

‘She’s fae,’ Ruhn insisted. ‘She answers to my father.’

‘You didn’t hear her, Danaan,’ Hunt said, fighting the grin from his face. ‘She’s pledged allegiance to no king and never will.’

‘Hunt, discharge her. Ruhn, I wonder if you could take a look at the sword,’ asked Isaiah, guiding the prince out of the room.

Hunt cared little for the fae but he wasn’t going to send a lone female who had no clue where she was to the Ruhn Danaan home for parties and orgies. He took up Ruhn’s vacated seat, also sitting backwards on it at the table. Nesta watched him closely.

‘How do you know Ruhn?’

‘I don’t,’ she replied, voice clipped.

‘You looked like you did.’

Nesta furrowed her brow. ‘I thought he was somebody else.’

Hunt nodded his head towards the cup. ‘You didn’t like my coffee?’

‘It was foul.’

‘Oof. No offence taken.’ He began writing out her discharge forms, explaining them to her as he wrote. It would go under a section two; the 33rd reserved the right to question any citizen at any time without reason or without consequence. Anybody from Lunathion would have kicked up a fuss over how long they’d been held for. This one had no cell, no purse, no identification, literally nothing on her person so she likely didn’t know her rights. ‘You can collect your items in a week.’

That was if they found nothing they could charge her for.

‘A week? I need the Harp.’

‘Playing in a tavern?’

Hunt glanced up at her then jerked back. Her eyes were swirling. They looked as if silver flames were trapped within, writhing to get to the surface.

‘You’re free to go, Nesta. I’ll see you out.’

The walk out of the Comitium was just as interesting. The most inane technology snagged her attention. At the coffee machine, she came to a halt to stare at it in wonder then in the waiting room, her eyes catalogued the television screens, jaw hanging open.

‘Don’t worry. You won’t miss Fangs and Bangs.’

Nesta opened her mouth to say something then the phone rang in the office. That also hooked her attention. She was child-like in her wonder as a malakh answered the phone.

‘That device allows you to communicate?’

Hunt touched two fingers to her forehead. The temperature seemed fine. ‘Try and see a med-witch. Have them check you over for concussion.’

He held the door open for her as she stumbled off into the blackness, just as perplexed as she’d been when they’d found her in the road.

Nesta wasn’t Hunt’s duty. His shift should have ended two hours ago. He was a slave, but a slave who could be off-duty – especially when Micah was out of town. Yet, he couldn’t stop the sense of dread from clawing in his chest as he watched Nesta amble aimlessly into the night.

This female would cause him a headache.

***

Seven days.

Nesta needed to survive seven days with only the clothes on her back in this strange city. There were worse places that she could have arrived to. The dungeon had not truly been a dungeon. It lacked the prowling beasts of the Hewn City. The only issue had been how bright the lights were. They hadn’t been the faelights that Rhysand conjured.

There were more lights hanging from towering metal poles on the smooth roads. There were still many out in the darkness but not all of them were fae. Some were like animals with cloven hooves instead of feet or caprine horns that jutted out from their hair.

Nesta didn’t know what to make of it.

She’d left Cassian calling her name in the Prison. Now she was in Lunathion. Wherever that was.

The city was so noisy.

Nesta needed space to think and to breathe so she fought her way out of the densest areas of the city towards a massive river. The sounds of it calmed her. She crossed over it, into the darker area where it felt more peaceful. Nesta sucked in breaths, thinking of Gwyn and her teachings to focus on the inhales and exhales and nothing else. That was easier said than done in a foreign land with no allies, no weapons, and no way back to Velaris.

Something was moving across the bridge towards her.

It made her skin prickle.

It wasn’t walking. It was gliding.

Her hand reached over her shoulder for the pommel of her sword and remembered it had been taken.

The creature made a low, gurling sound from the back of its throat then reached out a grey hand stripped of flesh in places.

Nesta backed up a step, but more were behind her, moving in that same eerie way without a sound.

The air went static.

A bolt of lightning hit the ground which forced one of the creatures to retreat.

The male who’d chaperoned her to the Comitium landed between her and the bulk of the creatures. Lightning wreathed his hands. His hair rose from the static.

‘You will not feast this night.’

Hunt jerked his chin at her, summoning Nesta to him. An arm clamped around her shoulders then he pushed off from the floor. As they lifted off, his other arm swooped beneath the back of her knees.

The motion was surprisingly fluid. Nesta did what she always did if Cassian flew her and put her arms around his neck for support.

‘What were they?’

‘Reapers,’ he replied. ‘I’m guessing you don’t have them where you come from.’

‘We have creatures just as foul.’

‘Yeah. Well, maybe don’t go for a midnight meeting with the Under-king if you want to see the dawn, Nesta.’ Hunt flew them a short distance then landed back amongst the lights on poles. He kept one hand clasped around her wrist like she might run while pulling one of the metal rectangles from his pocket. It displayed numbers that he tapped. His thumb moved down the screen, the words it showed flew by too quick for Nesta to read. ‘It’s Athalar. As you said, she’s one of your kind. She needs to be put up in a hotel.’ A pause. ‘Near the Dead Gate. I’ve flown her near Jesiba Roga’s house of horrors, but she’ll end up wandering through the meat market if I leave her.’ Hunt gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Either a hotel or the barracks with me, but not a chance I’m leaving her in your custody.’

Hunt slid the device into his back pocket. ‘The prince of pricks is booking you a hotel for the night. You hungry?’

The malakh lifted her into the air again to cross the city. They returned to the huge building where he had first taken her but did not stay long. Nesta was told to wait in the corridor outside a room while Hunt retrieved a bag of items. They stopped off at a restaurant along the way while he waited for news from the prince of pricks, whoever that was.

‘Noodles,’ he said, gesturing to the flimsy packaging.

Nesta stared down at them. They reminded her of yellow strings but there were chunks of meat and vegetables amongst them and a sweet-smelling sauce that made her ravenous. Hunt paid for it all, including the drink that was filled with bubbles.

‘Not a fan of coffee, but you like soda,’ he said between mouthfuls.

‘It is so sweet.’

‘Yeah because it’s all sugar.’

Nesta slurped it down, not caring if the ice hurt her teeth.

Hunt pulled the device – a cell phone – from his pocket. ‘Danaan came through. Let’s go.’

The lodgings were nice. One of those moving portrait boxes was hung on the wall and Hunt pressed a button on another rectangle to make it work. He pressed a few more buttons, the portraits changing rapidly.

‘Here we go. Fangs and Bangs, as promised.’

There was a half-naked female on the screen lounging on a long chair near a body of water. A male, equally as bare and bronze, was discussing their relationship beside her.

‘What do all of those buttons do?’

Hunt shrugged one shoulder. ‘Nobody knows. That’s volume. Channel up and down. On and off.’

‘It controls it?’

‘Yes. A remote. Where the hell did you come from Nesta?’

Nesta said nothing. She couldn’t bear to think of the people she had left behind. There was no guarantee that the Harp would be returned to her or it would even let her pluck a string to return to Velaris.

‘Bathroom’s through there. This is a key card. You press it to that black panel on the door handle to get in but try not to leave tonight, alright. I don’t want to retrieve your body from the Istros in the morning.’ Hunt blew out a breath. ‘Get some sleep. I’ll be by in the morning.’

Despite the day she had endured, the sight of the bed with tightly-pulled white sheets was calling to her. As soon as she hit that pillow, Nesta would be out.

Hunt rummaged in the bag that he’d collected from the Comitium. There were soft, grey pants and a white top. ‘For you to sleep in. There are slits on the back for my wings, but it will be comfier than those,’ he said, pointing to her leathers. ‘I don’t know how you breathe in that.’

‘Thank you, Hunt,’ replied Nesta, clutching the clothes to her body.

‘Tomorrow, we will talk. Off the record. About you.’ He swept his hair from his face. ‘I want to help but I can’t if you’re not honest with me. Sleep well.’

#hunt x nesta #acotar #crescent city #hunt athalar #nesta archeron

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toournextadventure · 1 year

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is it possible for a Wednesday x Reader where Reader is afraid to confess and chose to be a supportive friend and one day Morticia notices Reader's stare reader give at Wednesday and gives advice to Reader? love your works :)

Listen, I'm down bad for Morticia, no questions asked 😌

give it a chance

Wednesday looked absolutely beautiful sitting there across the table. All she was doing was drinking her coffee and reading her book, but all you were doing was staring at her. Look at me, your heart begged. Notice me. But you said nothing, just sat there and drank your own coffee and looked back down at your own textbook.

You had wanted Wednesday’s attention for months, since you had first met her. Sure, you fell for her too fast, it had clearly been an infatuation at first. But now that you got to spend time with her, and talk to her, and just be with her? Your infatuation was justified, no doubt about it.

Though, as you sat there, you knew you would never say a thing to her. There would never be some big admission, no profession of your love. She had shown no interest, and you weren’t going to push her into something she clearly didn’t want. So you would be her friend, and you would spend time with her and help her with whatever mystery she found next.

It was not enough. But for her, you would learn to make do.

Morticia watched your internal monologue unfold from across the cafe. She had promised Wednesday she wouldn't interfere while you were both studying, and she was making good on it. But the looks you were giving her daughter weren't the looks of strictly a study buddy.

You looked at Wednesday as if she had hung the moon in the sky each night. A look that Gomez often gave her when he thought she wasn't looking. Sure, you were young, but that had never stopped them. Nothing was more pure than young love.

Morticia bade her time until you both parted ways. She heard Wednesday tell you she would meet you later before leaving, but you stayed at the table. A troubled frown found its home on your lips as you threw your head back against the seat. Now was her chance.

She sat down opposite you, right where Wednesday had been sitting. The seat was still cold, she thought to herself with a small smile. You didn’t seem entirely surprised to see her; perhaps Wednesday had warned you she was in town. It didn’t bring a smile to your face, though, and that just gave Morticia that extra little push to say what she needed to say.

“Darling, only love should give you such a long face,” Morticia told you. “Is it Wednesday?”

“She makes me feel like I’m dying,” you said with a sigh.

“Is it not the best feeling?” She took a sip of her coffee; it was lukewarm and bitter. Perfect.

“No,” you groaned before you let your head fall to the table with a loud *thud.* It certainly drew the attention of all the other patrons. My my, Morticia thought, certainly one for the dramatics. I approve. “It sucks.”

“Have you told Wednesday how you feel?”

“No,” you mumbled against the table. “She’s not interested.”

“Well, have you asked her?”

Morticia watched you with a barely hidden smile as you sat up slowly. A bashful look crossed your face and you refused to look at her, giving her more satisfaction than it should have. She understood what her daughter saw in you if this was your usual temperament.

“No,” you admitted softly.

“Wednesday does not associate with just anyone,” Morticia told you. “You have a greater chance than you believe.”

“What if she says no?” You asked.

“What if she says yes?” Morticia countered.

You sighed and looked out of the large windows. In return, Morticia let you. Sometimes she forgot how big things could feel when you were young. While obvious to her, they weren’t always obvious to you teenagers, especially when it came to your feelings of love.

But if she could be the one to help you come to terms with those feelings and act on them, well. Wouldn’t that just be grand? After all, she certainly approved if you wanted to try for Wednesday’s affections.

“Okay.” You turned your head back to look at Morticia with a renewed determination. “I’ll shoot my shot.”

“Good luck,” Morticia told you with a smile when you stood up. You returned it and oh, what a beautiful smile.

She was going to enjoy seeing you around more often.

#requests #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine

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thefiery-phoenix · 1 month

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yandere Gun Park x f!reader (how he would deal with some assholes trying to catcall his girl? and how he would comfort her??) 🤨 the situation might be like she called him to pick her up at late night after having a party at a club w/her friends? thank you!

THE BLOOD ON HIS HANDS (YANDERE JONGGUN PARK X READER)

You weren't one to head out for clubs but you decided to make an exception this one time since it was your friend's birthday and you couldn't miss out on it since it would be rude and you didn't have the heart to disappoint your friend on her special day but you also promised yourself that you wouldn't drink. You were dressed in a knee length maroon dress that hugged your curves and left your hair open as you grabbed your black purse and the gift for your friend and put on your heels and made your way down to the club for the party. Your friend let out an excited squeal as she spotted you and enveloped you in a hug and you placed the gift on the table nearby while you surveyed the scene around you, the strobe lights made your head throb slightly but you ignored the feeling and you felt yourself getting lost in your thoughts, trying to ignore the chatter around you and the hustle and bustle

You wouldn't say you had a bad time either, you had fun dancing with your friends and you couldn't help but feel bashful and flustered after you finished your karaoke song and everyone around you clapped and cheered for you. Your friend cut her birthday cake and after a few light hearted conversations with your other friends, you decided you had enough fun for one night and you could feel your social energy draining out as you bade your friends goodbye and you decided to leave. Little did you know, just like how good things must come to an end, a horrid end was about to ruin your perfect night unbeknownst to you

You've always found comfort and solace in the night time, you liked the way the cool breeze felt around your skin as you looked up at the inky dark night sky shimmering with stars and your mind could form images of various constellations you'd read about a while ago as you hummed softly to yourself and continued to walk. While you were walking, you halted a few moments later as you stared at the large yellow board in front of you with the words 'Construction in progress' as you groaned in dismay and you realized you had to take another route through the alleyways which was an option you weren't overly fond of since it meant you'd take longer to reach home. Besides, you were sure Gun wouldn't be too pleased if you were back home later than the time you both agreed on as you sighed and decided to just suck it up and deal with it and you started making your way to the alleyways

While you walked, you spotted a few alcohol bottles strewn across on the ground and a few cigarettes on the ground as well as you scrunched up your nose in distaste and walked faster, your heart beat racing after every step. Your eyes landed on the 4 men sitting on their bikes a distance away from you in the alleyway, their words a bit slurred and looking like they were drunk as you gulped nervously and put your head down, hoping that they wouldn't pick on you if you just minded your own business and went on your merry way. "Well boys, look what we have here, a fine piece of meat...damn she's hot'' hollered one of the guys as the other guys laughed in response at his words and you cringed at his words but didn't say anything and continued to walk faster till someone got in front of you and blocked your path. "Where are you going cutie, you don't wanna spend time with us and get to know us? I'm hurt you know...'' said the guy in front of you and laughed mockingly as he leaned closer to you. You flinched and recoiled backwards and tried to step towards the other side till he blocked your path again and played with a strand of your hair and sniffed it with a lecherous look in his eyes

"Please let me go'' you whispered as you backed away from him till someone grabbed your arms from the back and pushed his face closer to your neck. "You smell so good...and such a pretty voice...wonder how pretty you'd look when you're under us, screaming our names...I bet you'd like that wouldn't you given the way you're dressed...it's like you're practically asking for someone to spend the night with you'' whispered the man as he chuckled darkly and you felt tears prick your eyes at his words and bile rising to your throat. Your hands reached into your purse and you quickly dialed Gun's number hoping he'd answer the phone before another guy ripped your purse away from you and threw it on the ground away from your reach. "Let's have some fun with no distractions, yeah? No one's going to hear you scream...'' he spoke maliciously as his eyes glinted with dark desire for you and you struggled in vain against the man who was holding you captive in his arms and tears flowed down your face freely

You remembered seeing Gun fight multiple times and you tried to replicate one of his moves which ended up in one of the men slapping you hard across the face and he held your cheeks harshly and grabbed your hair which made you wince in pain. "I'll show you what happens to dumb little girls like you who think they're too good'' he hissed as his hand darted out to tear your dress off and you shut your eyes and whimpered till you heard the sound of the same man letting out a sharp grunt of pain. Your mind was filled with confusion as you opened your eyes to see the man who slapped you now on the ground grunting in pain and clutching at his now broken hand as a familiar guy wearing a black suit and black glasses blended into the darkness of the night as he emerged from the shadows looking irritated

"GUN!" you cried out in relief, your heart soaring with joy after seeing him as his eyes momentarily softened when his gaze landed on you but after the whimpers of the man beneath him got on his nerves, he calmly lit a cigarette and stomped on the guy's head and back and glared at the guys around you. Another guy tried to attack him and went in for a punch when Gun just let out a disinterested hum and grabbed his arm and twisted it as the man fell on the ground wincing in pain. Gun then kicked his shins and kicked his jaw which rendered the man unconscious. One of them tried to run away in fear when Gun grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him against the wall repeatedly over and over again till his head dripped with blood and he fell down unconscious. The fourth guy whimpered and pleaded for mercy as he fell down to his knees pathetically sobbing but Gun let out a noise of discontent and disgust as he grabbed him by his hair. "You bastards actually had the audacity to lay your hands on MY woman...I don't show mercy'' he replied coldly as he twisted his neck the other side and the guy fell down on the ground. At this point you were pretty sure he wasn't breathing and the others were probably dead or something as Gun, to add insult for injury stubbed out his cigarette on one of their foreheads and stomped on their hands for a good measure before he made his way to you and his hands gently brushed against your cheek to dry your tears

"Don't worry love...I'm here..'' he whispered as his expression softened to see your scared and vulnerable state and brushed a few strands of hair from your face and pulled you close to him. He removed his jacket and wrapped it around you and kissed your head gently. "How...how did you even find me, I thought the call didn't go through'' you said and looked at him as he smirked at you in amusement. "You really think I'd let my girl walk through these streets with no help? I'm always watching your every move, that's why I told you it's better if I just lock you in my house and throw away the key so you won't get into situations like this...although I'm tempted to do it now. I'm not leaving you...ever'' he spoke as his voice was laced with the usual possessiveness he had for you and his grip on your wrist became tighter

You tried to walk when you let out a wince of pain and your face morphed into a grimace as he realized you hurt your foot. He immediately lifted you bridal style in his arms and you let out a squeak of nervousness. "It's fine, I can walk, I don't want to burden you'' you mumbled as he gave you a sharp glare. "You're NOT a burden and never will be. Now stop your silly protesting, I'm carrying you whether you like it or not. Your foot is injured so don't give me that I'm fine nonsense'' he replied sharply as you could feel your cheeks tinge slightly with a blush and you hid your face with your hands which he found rather endearing and he chuckled softly as he pecked a kiss to your cheeks before he made his way back to his residence

You took a nice warm shower and he motioned for you to come to bed with him as you climbed on the bed with him and he wrapped his arms around you firmly and he kissed your head. "Thanks for saving me'' you mumbled and leaned closer to his warm embrace, that spread warmth through your heart and made you feel safe and protected. "Of course, it's nothing you should be thanking me about...'' he replied and stroked your hair. He watched you drift off to sleep, his heart weighing heavily to see the tired and pained expression on your face because of the ordeal you had to go through today as he held you close to him, keeping you safe and sheltered in his arms. He wouldn't hesitate to kill for you again, his only regret was giving those fools a quick and fast death instead of a slow and agonizing one. But the next time someone would ever dare to mess with you, he wouldn't hesitate to grant them a slow painful death, besides, what's more blood on his hands going to do when he's already killed so many in your name and for the sake of your love and safety?

#yandere jonggun park x reader #yandere jonggun park #yandere gun park x reader #yandere gun park imagines #yandere gun park oneshots #yandere gun park scenarios #yandere gun park headcanons #yandere lookism characters x reader #yandere lookism characters #yandere lookism x reader #yandere lookism #dark lookism characters x reader #dark lookism characters #dark lookism x reader #dark lookism #lookism #lookism x reader #lookism headcanons

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thebadgerclan · 1 year

Text

Learn

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x reader x Wylan Van Eck

Summary: Wylan wants to learn how to pleasure you, and Jesper is more than happy to teach him...

Smut!

It was something that Wylan had fantasized about countless times, an image he’d gotten himself off to far more often than he’d ever admit aloud: touching you, making love to you, making you come. But his deepest fantasy had yet to play out for one crucial reason: Wylan had absolutely no idea how to pleasure a woman. You and Jesper were the first relationship he’d ever been in, the first love he’d ever felt. The three of you had gotten into some heated make-outs, but it had never progressed any further.

But Wylan wanted, oh how he wanted. He wanted to run his hands over your body, he wanted to bury his face between your thighs, he wanted to thrust into you while Jesper called him his good boy. The mere notion of doing so made Wylan achingly hard that he’d had to duck into the restroom and take care of himself so he could finish out the workday. It had been nearly impossible to keep his cool when he returned home, and when the three of you had drifted up to the bedroom for the evening, Wylan made his move.

He pulled you into his arms and kissed you deeply, having to go up on his tiptoes just slightly to reach you. You happily pulled your lover into you as you kissed him, never one to shy away from his affections. Jesper came up behind Wylan and snaked his arms around his waist, kissing the mercher’s neck. “Y/N,” Wylan sighed, reluctantly breaking the kiss. “Y/N, I want… I want…” “What do you want, baby?” “I want to make you feel good.”

A white-hot bolt of arousal shot through you, and you felt your face flush. “Really, baby? You’re ready?” You’d have taken Wylan to bed the second you met, but both you and Jesper hadn’t wanted to push him into anything he wasn’t completely ready for. But he was ready now. “I am, but…” “But what, sweetheart?” Jesper asked, still pressing open mouthed kisses to Wylan’s neck. “I don’t know what to do.”

The Zemini smirked, turning Wylan around so he was facing him. “That’s alright, baby boy,” he said, tenderly cupping his cheek. “I happen to be an excellent teacher. And Y/N’ll tell you what she likes.” Wylan nodded, and when he turned around, it was to find you seated on the bed, smiling at him. “I’m yours, baby,” you said, and your lover surged towards you, kissing you hard as he lifted the hem of your sleep shirt, pulling his lips from yours only to remove it.

You didn’t have a bra on, and Wylan sucked in a breath. “Ghezen, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, reaching for the waistband of your pants–a pair of Jesper’s sweats–next. Wylan hurried to strip himself, and once he was naked, he was kissing you again. Already you were breathless, dripping between your legs, and Jesper laid a hand on your shoulder. “Are you ready, my darlings?” he asked, and Wylan eagerly nodded.

“Good. Y/N, I want you to lie back, love.” You did as you were bade, reclining against the pillows, one of your lovers on either side of you. “Now baby, our Y/N is a sensitive little thing,” Jesper said, easing your legs apart. “So if you’re doing something she likes, you’ll know it.” “H-how will I know?” Wylan sounded so unsure, so shy, and your heart squeezed. “Like this. Y/N, may I?”

“Please,” was your breathless response, and your lover smiled, trailing a hand from your knee up your thigh. You spread your legs wider, hoping to entice your lover, and he smiled. “See how wet she is for us? For you, Wy?” “Me?” You reached for Wylan’s hand, squeezing it softly. “Yes, baby.” A flush creeped its way up the mercher’s neck, and Jesper continued. “She’ll never admit it, but Y/N likes being teased. Start out by rubbing her clit, not too hard, that might hurt, but not too light either.”

He demonstrated, running two fingers through your slit to gather your wetness. When Jesper pressed against your clit, rubbing slow, gentle circles, you let your head fall back, a breathy moan leaving your mouth. You heard Wylan’s breath catch, and you opened your eyes to find him watching with rapt attention, his cock hard and straining. “Keep doing this for a little while,” Jesper said, rubbing your clit faster. “You can speed up a little bit, but not too much, and right when it seems like she might come…”

“Jes!” you cried, and that was his cue. Your lover pulled his hand back, causing you to whine. “Why did you stop?” Wylan asked, and Jesper laughed. “Because hearing her pretty little moans is half the fun.” He then instructed Wylan how to finger you, how to find your g-spot, and what your tells were. “She’ll start squirming when she’s close,” he said. “Breathing a bit harder, her moans will get a little higher. So if you want to edge her, stop what you’re doing then.”

After several demonstrations, Jesper pressed a kiss to your forehead and sat back. “You’re not going to make her come?” Wylan asked, and Jesper shook his head. “No, baby, that’s all you tonight. But maybe give her a minute or so to calm down so she doesn’t come too quickly.” Wylan nodded, moving up the bed to kiss you. Lust coursed through your veins, and you pulled your lover closer, deepening the kiss.

“Wylan, touch me,” you breathed. “Please baby, touch me.” Wylan nodded, sitting back on his knees, looking at you with hungry eyes. Slowly, he brought a hand to your cunt, swiping two fingers through your wetness, just as Jesper had. When Wylan rubbed a slow circle on your clit, you bucked your hips and let out a strangled moan. “That’s good, baby,” Jesper praised. “Touch her just like that.”

Your lover was an apt student, copying Jesper’s motions almost exactly. But Wylan’s touch was different; his hands slenderer, his touch gentler, his motions still somewhat hesitant. But as you moaned his name, told him how good it felt, his confidence grew. Just as Jesper had said, your moans went up in pitch and you began panting, and Wylan retracted his hand, earning a dejected whine from you.

“Wylan,” you sighed, head lolling to the side. “Wylan, fuck, please don’t stop.” Where Jesper might have teased you, taunted you, Wylan pressed two fingers into your cunt, thrustung gently. Your back arched and you keened, a hand reaching for his wrist. “Fuck, Wy, oh shit!” Wylan had crooked his fingers, finding your g-spot and pressing into it almost effortlessly. “That’s it, Wy,” Jesper cooed, coming to kneel behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist and stroking his cock. “Keep touching here like that, good boy.”

Wylan’s moans joined yours, making the most beautiful chorus Jesper had ever heard. For several minutes yours and Wylan’s cries of pleasure, your praises filled the room, and soon, you felt your orgasm building. “Wylan,” you moaned, gently rolling your hips against his hand. “Wylan, please, right there, baby. Please, I’m so close. Don’t stop, please, right there.” Wylan did as you asked, keeping the rhythm and pressure of his fingers consistent, and a moment later, you shattered.

With a cry of his name, you came, back bowing, eyes rolling back in your head. Wylan felt a flush of pride, watching you fall apart on his hand; knowing you were feeling such pleasure and knowing it was him that had caused it. And when you let out a whimper, a soft, desperate plea of, “Wylan,” and when Jesper twisted his wrist just so, the mercher released, his head tipping back to rest on Jesper’s shoulder.

Jesper felt his cock throb in his sleep pants at the sight of his lovers moaning and writhing for each other. He eased Wylan to lie at your side before retreating to the bathroom, returning a moment later with warm washcloths to clean the two of you up. In the moment or so he’d been gone, you and Wylan had gravitated towards each other and were now tangled in each other’s embraces, foreheads touching, eyes shut.

“Alright, my loves,” he said. “Let me clean you up, then we can snuggle.” It was one of Jesper’s favorite things, putting you back together after thoroughly ravishing you, and now he got to offer that loving ritual to Wylan too. Both of you whimpered and protested, but Jesper managed to get the two of you clean, dressed, and tucked beneath the covers. Wylan had snuggled into your chest again, and Jesper curled around him from behind.

“Did I do good?” he asked, and you wondered how your heart could swell and break at the same time. Your sweet boy craved praise so much, craved validation, and lucky for him, you were more than happy to dole it out. “So good, baby,” you said, kissing his forehead. “You did so good, Wy.” “Yes, you did, sweetheart,” Jesper echoed, kissing his shoulder. “Our good boy.”

Wylan preened under your attention, letting out a contented hum. “I love you, Wylan,” you said, gently tugging him closer. “I love you too,” he mumbled, his post-orgasmic haze combined with yours and Jesper’s arms around him acting like a sedative. He soon drifted off, and Jesper reached for and took your hand. “And I love you, my sweet girl.” You smiled, squeezing his hand. “Love you too, Jes,” you replied, letting your eyes close and sleep claim you as well.

#poly!wesper #jesper fahey x reader x wylan van eck #jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey x you #shadow and bone fanfiction #Wylan x Jesper #jesper x wylan #jesper fahey x wylan van eck #wesper #wylan van eck x reader #wylan van eck x you #shadow and bone reader insert

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nyctoaerah · 30 days

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𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋

“𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅”

╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: Who would've known that the man you spent a night with was the very same man that you're planning to kill? It was a cruel twist of fate, cause as you spent more time with him, you found yourself growing attached-inlove even. But, you ended up knowing the truth about suguru’s death, and the thirst for justice and redemption for Suguru consumed you. The pursuit of absolution drove you to consider any means necessary, even if it meant risking your own well-being, your sanity, your very essence. You were willing to sacrifice everything just to obtain the revenge you so desperately craved, even going as far as to ignore your feelings for Satoru. After all, it doesn't really matter, because Gojo Satoru was yours, he was yours to play with, he was yours to manipulate, and yours to kill, and he’s not complaining about it.

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: suggestive themes, racism towards non-sorcerers, aftermath of one-night-stand

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Gojo Satoru x Fem! Op! Assassin! Suguru's adopted daughter! Reader

╰┈➤𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: This story is the revamped version of my previous fic “Devil in Disguise” it has the same plot, but this one just has a better story flow in my point of view;) also available in Wattpad and Quotev! Hearts and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist

Previous chapter

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

━━𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟕 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟕

YOU STIRRED INTO CONSCIOUSNESS as the sunlight caressed your bare skin, rousing your sluggish body from slumbering. Your body felt sore for some reasons, especially your thighs, but you didn’t mind it that much.

Lifting your chin, your eyes fluttered open to take in an ornate chamber paneled in gleaming ivory, its lofty ceiling adorned by a glittering chandelier.

Beneath the sheets, your flesh prickled with awareness of your half-nudity yet also a lingering heat that suffused your pore, recalling the fevered embrace of the previous night.

Lavish scents assaulted your senses—the heady perfume of jasmine mingling with masculine musk. Disoriented, you blinked away the veil of slumber, gazing about in a daze.

Slowly pushing up onto your elbows, your mind awakened in fragments—an argument with your sisters, you going on a club, getting drugged.. And him.

Satoru.

You shuddered as sensations washed over your body, recalling his touch last night. The ghost of his kisses lingered on your skin, tingling your thighs, stomach and lips. Merely remembering elicited a renewed flush of heat that spread from your cheeks down your neck.

While you bore no regrets, uncertainty nagged at you. How had you measured up to his experienced caresses? Fragments were all that remained—his worship of your flesh, Thrilling pinpricks rose goose bumps where his adulating mouth had bade your body ignite with each kiss and nibble. The feel of his mouth exploring your private places, his hands grasping your hips to pull you ever closer.

The taste of strawberries on his tongue, lips tracing ardent paths across your skin and literally everything.

Drawn back to wakefulness by such vivid recollections, you became aware of your state— lightly clad in merely underclothing, fastenings loosened—not in the way you would put it on.

A question appeared on your head.

Was he the one who dressed you up? Your Fingertips rose to trace the marks left on your skin, purpling love-bites grip of grasping fingers on your thigh, and some bite marks.

You would’ve frowned until you remembered that you gave him the permission to leave marks.

Something you shouldn’t have done, probably, because it’s probably gonna be hard to hide.

Though sated, You can’t help but wonder, You knew that you sucked at these kind of things, and you wanted something, not repetition but rather clarification.

Had you pleased him fully as he had so fully worshiped you?

“Stop thinking about that.. s’just a one-night stand..”

you mumble as you pressed your palm to your brow, despising how your mind stubbornly clings to the stupid memories.

“Stupid hormones...”

On unsteady feet, you got off the bed and padded the plush floor, surveying the place to find your clothing. Finding nothing, your gaze wandered the opulent interior, committing each exquisite feature to memory—slate and marble, gilt and glass conspiring in sensuous splendor.

Steeling your shaking sinews, you reached for the door, cool metal kissing your fevered skin. Light assaulted you and you winced as you peered into it.

You blinked slowly as you took in your unfamiliar surroundings. An ornate foyer stretched above you, Fresh flowers accented various surfaces, their sweet perfume. Rolling your aching head gingerly from side to side, you sought some clue as to your location amid the opulence, but alas, everything remained hazy and indistinct.

Stupid fucking hangovers. You thought as you went towards the stairs.

Struggling to balance yourself, a wave of dizziness and nausea overcame you, your stomach roiling in protest. Clammy-palmed, you steadied yourself against the polished balustrade as you walked down, letting the smooth stairs guide your unsteady steps.

When you were finally down, you felt mortified as you realized that you’re half naked. Fuck, you forgot.

Maybe you should go back on the room? You hesitated, not really wanting to walk around half naked.

Just then, a familiar voice cut through your distressed haze.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

You knew that voice—it belonged to Satoru. Squaring your shoulders to muster what shreds of dignity you could, you turned to face him. His hair was damp, a towel draped across his shoulders, below which his torso was similarly bare. Meeting his eyes, you asked the inevitable question to break the awkward silence.

“Oh...uhm...where are my clothes?”

“Oh, I still haven’t finished washing it. You puked on it yesterday.” Satoru mentioned nonchalantly, causing your eyes to widen as the recollection of your vomit soaking the fine silk assaulted your senses once more, filling you with even more shame.

You forgot, you really did vomited on the poor dress when you arrived here.

“You don’t have to wash it, y’know...” You mumble sheepishly.

“Hmm, nope, i’ll wash it. That dress is pretty on you, it looks exquisitely nice to rip it off your body though, but it’s still nice.”

Your face flushed in embarrassment at his bluntness.

Your face flushed at his blunt candor, a fierce heat swelling within your cheeks. Crimson-tinged and agitated, you averted your eyes from him.

Fuck, you’re not used to people telling you such things.

“I-i can do it myself , you don’t have to do it. I don’t wanna be a burden.” you responded, shaking your head in embarrassment , not wanting to impose. You’ve already embarrassed yourself last night, probably , and now you would have him wash your fucking dress?

Satoru chuckled in response. “No, it's alright. I insist on doing it.”

His persistence made your brows draw together

“I don’t wanna be a burden,” you firmly stated jaw set slightly, causing him to roll his eyes, and place a hand on his hip sassily.

“I can do it promise. I kinda ruined it too, so seems fair for me to do it, hm?” He drawls.

“No fair,” You shot him a playful glare.

“Well, life isn’t fair, princess.”

“Just give me the dress, i’ll clean it—”

You began only to be cut off.

“Nuh uh. I’m cleanin’ that. No more arguments.” He said. Your eye twitched at that, yet it somehow made your stomach flutter a bit, from some reason you didn’t knew.

“Anywayss, You should also consider taking a bath, you know?” he murmured softly, sky blue eyes fixed on the ceiling, deliberately avoiding eye contact.

Your face fell. Shit, do you smell bad? As if sensing your doubt, Satoru began to elucidate.

“Don’t worry, i cleaned you up yesterday, made sure to clean everything! But still, I’m sure you'd like a bath too... to ease your er.. sore muscles..”

He said, a cordial smile on his lips.

“I like aftercare, after all, so you don’t have to worry about you smelling like....” he said, twisting the damp towel between deft fingers. A roguish smirk curled his lips. Your gaze traced the lean lines of his form outlined by the thin fabric, lingering on his corded neck.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Satoru.”

“I meant sweat. Pervert. You’re thinking about something else, aren’t you?” He giggled.

“Heh? You didn’t expect that, did you?” he crooned, idly twining a damp lock around his finger like a school girl getting approached by their crush.

Speech evaded you, your thoughts scattered like leaves before an autumn gale in embarrassment.

He fixated you with an intense gaze, his blue eyes seeming to appraise your every subtle movement and reaction. A sly smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Hm? Why are you staring at me like that?” he questioned with feigned innocence, though his teasing tone implied far more clandestine intentions.

You blinked, brows twitching slightly.

“I didn't knew that you’re such a pervert, princess. now you’re making me all shy.”

Satoru giggled, his words a contrast to his obvious actions again. In no way was he shy, he was shameless after all.

Satoru Gojo has no shame after all.

You struggled to collect your frazzled thoughts.

“I’m uh, staring at the ceiling, you’re just tall so it looks like i’m staring at you.” you replied lamely, cursing your inability to formulate a wittier response internally.

He released a throaty chuckle, clearly unconvinced by your flimsy excuse.

“Yeah, yeah, you gotta take a bath now, let’s yap later after you finished taking a bath, yeah?” His lascivious grin remained firmly in place.

Your cheeks burned anew as you realized your sorry state.

“Er.. i don’t have clothes... My dress is already.. you know...”

The words scratched painfully in your parched throat as you crossed your arms tightly over your exposed torso

“Mhmm. Don’t worry princess.” He hums.

“You can borrow some of mine, i think i have smaller ones” Satoru shifts his gaze towards a door.

“I’ll get it for you, yeah? Just wait f’me.”

Without delay, he strode from the room with purposeful steps.

Finally.

You exhaled a slow, lengthy breath, letting your tingling fingers trace delicate trails across your scalp as the heat of mortification warmed your cheeks once again, out of embarrassment and sheepishness.

You didn’t expected him to be this caring, cause he’s giving the fuck boy vibes—plus you’re a total stranger in here too.

Maybe he does this to other girls too, You pondered before your shoulders slackened, upon remembering that you’re not really that special—cause he’s probably bedded a lot of girls and does this to them.

Nonetheless, it’s still quite pleasant.

You looked at the lavish surroundings, taking in exquisite details. Gilded trim and intricately carved furnishings was everywhere, it looked fancy and all. Your gaze drifted and lingered on portraits adorning the white walls, peering into the pictures within gilded frames. One picture , though, seized your attention—it was about two people, and one just looked like suguru—but you’re not sure about it yet.

You wanted to confirm, so you strode forward trance-like, but then, satoru’s voice jarred your walking.

“What are you doing?” Satoru's lilting tones roused you. You turned to find him regarding you with questioning eyes, hands cradling fresh linens and some sort of pills that says “Plan B” atop the pristine fabric.

“Nothing...just looking around,” You murmured vaguely, brows furrowed slightly.

“Ah well. Here is it.” he says.

“I brought you Plan B too. Ugh.. i think i went raw last night, but don’t worry, i’m clean. Sorry [Name].”

You were about to ask him what he meant by that, but stopped when he practically placed the clothes in your hands.

As your hands grasped the unfamiliar fabrics, a weight dropped into your palm—a phone, your phone, to be specific.

“I think this is yours, i found it lying on my couch.” He said, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah.. it’s mine. Thanks ”

Your fingertips traced over the cracked screen, appraising the damage done whilst gripped in oblivion and you wince.

“Damn...”

Notifications assailed your distracted eyes, your siblings’ concerns, there were so many missed calls and texts from them.

A grimace formed on your face, muscles tensing.

Your brat of a sisters is definitely gonna lecture you.

━━𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋

You sunk low into the bath, letting the warmth envelop you and melting away the tension from your muscles. Closing your eyes, you drew in a deep breath, reveling in the soothing scent of jasmine that perfumed the steam. Your fingers idly traced patterns in the surface, disturbing the drifting bubbles.

As you dragged your hands upwards over your skin, the bubbles popped, leaving trails of moisture in their wake. Your cellphone rested on the smooth tiles bordering the tub, its waterproof casing ensuring it would not come to harm.

Nanako’s tinny voice emanated from the device, pulling your mind from its half-formed reverie.

“Where were you, sister??” she whined petulantly. A sigh escaped your lips; you were in no mood for her querulous nagging.

“You sound like an angry mother,” you replied wryly.

“Not funny! We were so worried about you,” she retorted, concern lacing her words.

“Where’s mimiko?” You questioned, for you haven’t heard mimiko, after all, normally, it was always the both of them talking to you through phone, now though, it was solely nanako.

“I was uh.. at a friend’s house right now.” You lied feebly.

“She’s with me. She’s sleeping, and come back sister, we gotta tell you something important.”

Silence fell as you considered her statement, your thoughts inevitably turning to darker matters.

“Just say it on the phone, please?”

“Fine. We can’t find master geto’s body...” Nanako said solemnly, her voice taut with unease. Her words struck like icy blades into your core, and you froze momentarily amidst the comforting warmth, your blood chilling in your veins as you felt your mood suddenly fell. His body had yet to be found? Your jaw clenched involuntarily as restless questions swirled within your mind.

“Why?” you demanded, brows furrowed in consternation.

“Do you already know his killer then...?” The implications were grim, and you sat rigid, mind racing.

“I... I think it’s that okkotsu kid.”

“What the fuck? No way.” You were flabbergasted.

“You mean that kid?”

You frowned deeply, eyebrows furrowing in a look of utter repugnance as feelings of incredulity and revulsion washed over you. That meek urchin having bested Suguru was an affront to reason itself—the notion was positively preposterous. The lad seemed scarcely capable of lifting his own limbs after all!

“I can’t believe this.” You sighed in disappointment.

“But. I’m gonna avenge master suguru, don’t worry.”

“Those monkeys... Are the reason he’s dead... ugh.. those okkotsu brat used to be a monkey too, didn’t he? Then became a sorcerer ‘cause of the special grade cursed spirit.. riki? Was it? Or rika..?”

Your fingers curled into tight fists at your sides, nails digging crescents into your palms. That was a trait you got from suguru, albeit you were influenced by him, as you had the same loathing he held for non-sorcerers.

“True, true, i still can’t believe that he managed to defeat master geto... with that kind of physique...”

“Such a bodyshamer you are, nanako.” You mumble.

“It’s true!” Nanako replied.

“But then.. why would the other sorcerers protect them again...? I mean.. the monkeys... They’re the sole reason why curses are born anyways...” you muttered through clenched teeth, slumping against the wall of the washroom as soothing bubbles danced across your aching limbs.

“They probably got manipulated and can’t see the truth. They’re seriously brainwashed by them.” Nanako replied bitterly.

“Seriously. I told you guys that you should’ve just waited for me... Cause you know... We might stand a chance..” You added.

“After all, i’m unregistered, aren’t i? So they won’t know how my cursed techniques works.”

━━𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋

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peyton-warren · 1 year

Note

Syverson and 🛎?

You know of all people I can't say no to Sy, ever. Who would. And waiting on him hand and foot... hmmmm. Got a bit angsty but there is potential smut coming in another part in the future.

Three-Jump Cowboy

Characters: Gender Neutral Reader, Captain Syverson Pairings: Reader X Captain Syverson Fandoms: Sandcastle, Henry Cavill characters Word count: 1400 Type: angsty, fluffy. Warning: 18+. Minors DNI. Injury, surgery, hospitals, no blood, vague description of accident, and a teeny tiny mention of spanking Summary: Reader waiting on Sy hand and foot. Author's Note: Blame @ronearoundblindly, I do. She sent me ask from this as game if you would like to play too. Thank you to @adulting-sucks for the beta. And thank you to @sarahdonald87 for the injury idea. Ask Box: Open Masterlist

“Sugar,” Sy exasperatedly stated. If you thought too hard about it , his tone would almost seem like a whine. You just smiled softly at him as you set the tray of food across his lap where he was sitting up in the guest bed. “I coulda come to the table, I told you that.”

“Doc said you are to stay here unless you absolutely have to move. Eating can be done here,” you assured him as he reached for the silverware. “I’ll let you cut your own meat up,” you teased. “Let you keep your masculinity intact.”

You hid your smirk from him as he scowled menacingly at your comment. You knew keeping James Syverson in bed was going to be an issue from the second the doctor told you both that his femur was broken and would require an extended period of time in bed. James wasn’t used to being stationary, and you weren’t used to him being dependent on anyone but himself. This was going to be a trial for both of you and likely your relatively newish relationship.

You had only been together a few months when you got the call from the base that he had been in a training accident. You didn’t even know he had put you down as his emergency contact, but you had quickly headed to his bedside, scared at what you would find there. The nurse on the phone had not been overly loquacious with the details.

The woman at the information desk told you how to find where his room was going to be, that he was in surgery and who you should talk to once you got there. The nurses on the floor were kind but busy, telling you they’d let you know if they heard anything and then gestured to the corner room where you should wait.

You did as you were bade and sat in the uncomfortable chair beside the neatly made institutional looking bed. Your mind whirled at what his injury was, who else you should call. He mentioned his mom somewhere back home, why was she or his brother living in Michigan not on his emergency contact list? How would you get a hold of them if something else happened to him?

Your heart lept at the sound knuckles on the door. Your eyes refocused on the woman dressed in scrubs standing in the open doorway. “Just wanted to let you know he did well, just needs to rest and heal now. He’s in recovery and will be brought down in a bit. I’ll be back once he’s settled and awake to talk to you both about next steps.”

“Thank you,” you barely squeaked out with a nod. It escaped you to ask what his injury was until after she was gone. By then she was probably long gone, moved onto another patient who needed her.

You heard the sound of wheels and a few pairs of feet approaching a little while layer. As predicted, your beast of a boyfriend was rolled into the hospital room, eyes open but glazed, his normal sober face lit up like a child’s as he noticed you. “You came?” Sy asked gleefully, as if you were on a date instead of sitting in his hospital room.

“Of course I did, Sy,” you said softly as he tried to sit up in the gurney. The man at the head of the bed placed a hand on his shoulder. He was almost as big as Sy, his rust colored beard, hair pulled back into an elastic at the back of his head. “You need to stay still, sir, just a few more moments.”

“But-“ Sy tried to protest, gesturing to you.

“We are blocking their escape,” the other orderly joked.

You smiled at them all, and stayed seated as they managed to transfer Sy from one bed to the other. When they pulled back the sheet to move him, you noticed the new cast running from his calf to his hip on his left leg.

“Oh shit,” you whispered, your sight trained on his leg.

“Ain’t nothing,” drugged Sy confessed. “I’ll be up chasing you before you know it,” he said teasingly, reaching a hand to your knee, squeezing, his fingertips pressing harder into your inner thigh, making your legs close right around them.

When the doctor returned a few hours later, Sy and you learned his injury was far from nothing. He had landed wrong on a routine training jump. His ‘chute had fully deployed but something had happened to the rigging, preventing him from decelerating his speed, the brunt of which ran up his left leg upon contact with the ground, breaking his femur. The puckered brow on his face told you he struggled to remember much of it, but the doctors assured you both that it was the pain meds talking.

“Six months??” Sy sternly asked a few moments later. “I have to be in bed for 6 months? Are you-“

You laid your hand on his forearm, sliding your smaller fingers down to curl between his, silencing him. “When can I take him home?” you switched tactics, trying to keep him calm, and focusing on the next few steps.

A few days later, Sy was delivered to his own home in town by ambulance. There was no way he was going to fit in your tiny car nor be able to get into his truck with a full leg cast. By the time the paramedics brought him home, you had worked with a local in-home care service and set up the guest bedroom on the main floor of his home to fit his new needs.

He was grumpy but complicit as he was carried on the gurney into his home. He was agitated, looking exactly like a caged animal, clutching his jaw, eyes flicking around at the EMTs, at his home, at you. They softened just a touch at the sight of you standing off to the side, dressed in one of his beat up old button-ups, sleeves rolled up to your elbows, leggings and old boots you had stashed at his house to help around the yard. You hadn’t really been back to your own apartment since you got the call from the hospital at work 4 days previous. You did a drive by to grab some essentials the first morning after his accident and then had set up in his home (with his consent) to get everything ready and settled for his arrival.

Catching him looking at you as you stood off to the side out of the way of the two paramedics doing their jobs, but yet still hovering like the protective mother hen you suddenly felt like, you gave Sy a soft smile, happy to have him back in his home where maybe he could relax and let himself heal and recover.

It was later that evening when you brought him his dinner on the wooden tray, a steak, mashed potatoes and creamed spinach, one of the meals you made for him when you first started dating. Only thing new was the side of painkillers and post op antibiotics that were waiting for his belly to have some food as a buffer.

As Sy looked at the tray in front of him, he softly, ruefully sighed and you pecked his forehead, rising to leave. “Sugar,” he said quickly, but quietly, his hand wrapping viper fast around your wrist, stopping you, surprising you a bit.

“Yes?” You looked from his hand to his face, seeing the man struggle with the words he was trying to share.

“Thank you,” he sincerely stated, his crystal eyes clear and possibly sparkling. “For all this.” He gestures around the room, the bed, the dreaded walker, the other equipment, as well as the food in front of him. “You didn’t-“

“I know,” you assured him. “But I wanted to. I’d like to think you’d do the same for me if the roles were reversed.”

James nodded and smiled a little wider, the dimple you adored making a rare appearance even through all of his beard. “I woulda. After I finished spankin' you for jumpin’ out of a perfectly good plane.”

You both laughed for the first time in almost a week. This was going to be a long journey, but together you were gonna make it to the other side.

General Tag List: @littleone65, @mysweetlittledesire @jvanilly HC Tag List: @m07belzen, @used-to-be-bourbonwithice, @hawklin, @geralts-yenn

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson fic #captain sy x reader #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #captain sy #captain syverson fluff #captain syverson angst

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t-305tv · 7 months

Text

There is a huge difference between Tori and Beck.

Tori can be drunk as hell to the point she won’t remember anything at all and would still be faithful and loyal to Jade.

Beck cheats while being sober

Jori is the superior ship, I don’t make the rules

#victorious #torivega #victoria justice #victoriajustice #jori #elitoria #elizabethgillies #jori vest #jori>othervictoriousships #jade west #bade #bade sucks #beck sucks #beck oliver

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johnmeowston · 10 months

Text

just had the worst sandwich ever

#cant take meds on an empty stomach but boy i wish i did it sucked so bade #txt

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ashen-sky · 10 months

Text

Personal highlights from...

Red vs Blue The Ultimate Fan Guide

In honor of s19 and the continuation of where s13 left off, here are some highlights from the ultimate fan guide published back in 2015. I've been re-watching the show and it made me want to flip back through the guide. (Everything is sort of in the order it appears in the book, with a few exceptions)

Delta appears as a guide of sorts with fun facts

Caboose's position is listed as "Team Rookie/Occasional Captain/ Church's Best Friend" (it is actually struck out in the book)

He is also the only one listed with the title Captain, appearing as "Private/Captain Michael J. Caboose" (due to Wash "promoting" him, in the canyon on chorus)

Tucker is "Private First Class", Church, Donut, and Simmons are "Private"s, Sarge is listed as a "Colonel" under rank (the other Red's and Blue's ranks appears with their name while his is under "position"), and Grif is "Minor Junior Private, Negative First Class"

Wash used to be a chronic bed wetter (thanks D)

There's also a six page transcript of his psych eval prior to PF where we find out he injured a commanding officer because he wanted to "send everyone to their deaths", he also put a former bully through a mirror in fifth-grade

Grif is stated to have been assigned to Blood Gulch because he was the only survivor of an alien attack on a colony during the great war, he fell asleep at his post and everyone assumed he was KIA

Donut's position is listed as "On all fours... cleaning Red bade"

Doc's profile is "Doc/ O'Malley" and the whole thing lists both their interests, i.e "Position: Canyon Medic, Galactic Overlord"

Andy's (the bomb) name is "Andrew D. Kaboom"

Sheila and Filss share a page

Tex's notable attributes are "Kicking ass (and nuts), being a mean lady, and resurrection"

The password to unlock the file on Beta that CT left behind was "Allison" (Thanks again D)

York's page comments "Several reports were filed against Agent York claiming he and Agent Carolina had something of a "personal" relationship [...] Freelancer Command was unable to find any proof to support these accusations."

One of his notable attributes is "watching his right side" and his position is "team scoundrel"

Eta and iota (Carolina's AIs) were "fear and happiness"

According to the official time line, Carolina was around 6 when Allison died (Allison died 23 years before Blood Gulch and Carolina was born 29 years before)

Wyoming's real name is Reginald

South Dakota's Status is listed as "Extra Crispy"

Smith once spent two days contemplating in silence what Caboose meant when he said his favorite color was "Happy"

Dr. Grey's position is "(Mad) Doctor", she was considered a prodigy at age 11 when she diagnosed every patient in House M.D. within five minutes of their introduction, and she thinks Grey's Anatomy is "far too trite"

Felix and Locus' names are listed as Unknown in the book, but I do believe their names were revealed in a s14 episode

The counselor advised the director to tell Tex that Alpha was in Blood Gulch to protect him and stop her from investigating the project

Notable Features of Blood Gulch include "Avoid Tucker's Rock at all costs, as it has not been properly sterilized"

BTS from D: The opening shot of Season 6 was created by shooting players moving in different quadrants and combining the shots"

Important events at High Ground, "Washington killed Agent south in cold blood- with a much less cold flamethrower."

Fact from D: "Once a year, Reds and Blues stationed at Rat's Nest still pay tribute to Agent Alabama by sending a flaming mongoose soaring through the night sky."

Donut likes to spend his leisure time in Federal Army Outpost 37, in the jail cells in handcuffs

The statistics pages, 9 pages of stats from number of robots murdered (112) to Church's sniper rifle accuracy (9.3%)

Bow Chicka Bow Wow was first said in season 4, and Simmons never sucked up in season 12, season one had the most "son of a bitch"s at 14 Donut made 32 accidental innuendos, and the odd number of pedals in vehicles was called out on five occasions Tucker has the highest kill count of all reds and blues (counting wash and Tex), at 24 followed by donut at 22 and Tex at 21, Caboose is the lowest at 2 raised by Lopez and 3 and Church at 8 Sarge has threatened/wished death on Grif 56 times, and Donut has nearly died five times Seasons 2 and 9 had the lowest kill counts Carolina had the highest flash back kills at 68 in season ten, and the twins are tied at 23 kills in season nine

Tex's attack to free Alpha was 2 years before Blood Gulch, the great war ended 1 year after Alpha arrived in Blood Gulch and after the Wyoming incident in Blood Gulch (where they tried to kidnap junior), Chorus takes place 5 years after Alpha initially arrived in Blood Gulch

The mission books has adorable illustrations (they look like Caboose's guides from s14)

There's a mindmap for all the Leonard and Allison iterations and they they connect

Sarge has a guide on how to build a robot, scented lube is preferred, along with mad scientist goggles, a cup of baking soda, and seventeen tablespoons of sugar

More silly plans with fun diagrams

Donut's diary, D tells us that Donut washes his underwear on tuesday's

Caboose's Wisdom section on: feelings, relationships, army etiquette (including gems like crayons don't work as bullets. Use markers.), life, and the reds and blues

Simmons made a text based adventure games

BTS from D, the story of Simmons refusing to go to the Vegas Quadrant is a reference to Gus Sorola (Simmons' VA) refusing to go to Las Vegas with the rest of the rvb creators

You can find the case against Sergeant Grif from the reds at rat's Nest (he was selling red team's ammo to Caboose before he was locked up in the brig, Private Jones wore a wire tap to help the red's catch Grif's under the table dealings)

Leonard met Allison in the mess hall during basic training where he pissed off another recruit and Allison had to save his ass (Church was right, Carolina get's her temper from her mom)

I'm Church. private Church. Leonard. Leonard Church." the only thing I cared about in that moment was that she knew my name. She smiled. Her smile could light up solar systems. "Kind of a funny name. Church." "It's Jewish."

I spent the rest of basic chasing after her. In some ways, I never stopped.

Here's hoping non of our beloved idiots die in season 19! I mean, I know Church will be gone, but the others... they deserve a happy ending.

Also I miss the freelancers and AI...

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miss-mania · 2 months

Text

The Song of Maybe

(By Abbadon, from the Webcomic Kill Six Billion Demons)

Once, Lord Intra came to the Vale of Stalks. It was a broad land with a hardy and beautiful people that wove stems of grass into elaborate mats. There were frequent harvest songs and offerings to the God of Pigs.

Unfortunately, at the time, the people were starving. The land was ruled by Yem Yeddo and his family, who had sucked the life out of it for some time. That was the way of things in those days. Though the soil was quite fertile, Yem Yeddo had surrounded himself with thickset and well-fed men, who lacked in brains but made up for it in muscle and the same kind of canniness found in very smart dogs. These men he used as tax collectors, and he drained the land of every third, fourth, and fifth bale of crop, and sold it for crude coin, feeding the scraps to his thugs.

Lord Intra arrived at the local way house and was served black bread, as was the custom, but skesh was strangely absent, and the bread was thin and mealy. When Intra asked why, he quickly learned of the lands’ plight.

“What of the peregrine lords that tend this place?” He asked.

“They were killed by thirty men, and hung from a tree for seven days,” said the inn proprietor, with a look like a beaten animal.

Intra could not abide this. He called out to Yem Yeddo in the spare and decaying market square, who brought his thirty men.

“Preem Yeddo,” bellowed Intra, “You are a cruel and petty man. How can you scour this land so and not feel for the people that call it their abode?”

Yem Yeddo laughed. “Let them eat the stones, for all I care,” said he.

Intra, who was not one to balk at such matters, picked up a particularly large rock and said, “So it shall be. I shall feed the people with this stone.”

The lord of the vale and his thugs laughed at Intra and his preposterous proclamation. But their mirth was cruel, so they stayed to watch his futile labor.

“I will turn this rock into fire,” said Intra. The men roared with laughter.

“Fool!” they cackled. “The rock shall not become fire, no matter your wish.”

Intra ignored them, turned the rock in his well worn hand, and dug a shallow pit with it, piling the earth carefully at the sides. Then he gathered dry brush and reeds and piled them high in the pit. The sun was hot and bright overhead as he worked, and his traveling clothes were soiled with sweat as he worked. The men bade the villagers of that place gather water for them to drink as they watched Intra’s labors.

From his traveling cloth, Intra produced a sword. The thugs watching him leaned forward at this, but then quickly relaxed. It was a decrepit and battered thing, well used and pitted and chipped.

“I no longer use this to kill men,” said Intra. “But it’s very good for cooking dinner.”

Intra struck the rock against his sword, and a spark flew into the dry brush. Intra fanned it with great care, and soon a roaring fire blazed in the village square.

“Now I will make of this stone Earth and Water both,” said Intra, standing in front of the blaze.

“And air too, I suppose,” jested Yem Yeddo, the richest man in the vale, and all his men laughed.

But Intra did not. He took his proclamation very seriously. At this point, he had been sober for months and had a headache.

Intra took the stone, and his terribly damaged sword, and began to set to work by the side of the fire. Using the edge of the sword, he slowly chipped at the rock, flattening its shape. As the rock was of a reasonably large size, this took quite some time.

Once he was satisfied with his tool, he took off his kafeyen and traveling cape, so he was clad only in his underclothes, then found a good spot in the barren and muddy town square and began to dig.

Even the people in the square who had filtered in to see the Sword Saint and had some hope he might yet prove their savior felt their resolve sag at the sight of his starved body, laboring and sweating as he toiled in the muck and filth. The cruel master of the vale laughed and had a tent set up to shade him as he watched Intra’s struggles. “If you are done with your farce, I will happily geld you and make you my jester, lord Intra,” said he. Intra said nothing, but kept digging, only emerging to feed his fire. As the day dragged on and his fire burned to coals, he had quite a sizable amount of clay, which piece by piece he molded into bricks and let dry by the light of the sun and the heat of the fire.”Behold the earth,” said Intra.

As the sun began to creep lower towards the horizon, his craft quickly became apparent. Exhausted, and muscles quivering, he emerged from his hole and began to stack his bricks into a sturdily made bread oven. Then he asked for a vessel, and went down into his pit, emerging with it filled to the brim with muddy water, as he had dug deep enough to coax it from the dry earth.

“Behold the water,” said Intra, and set it to boil clean over the fire. He began to shovel coals into the oven, to prepare it and set it.

At this sight, more people began to gather at the square. They could sense that something was afoot. Yem Yeddo would have beaten them back into their homes, but he too was transfixed by the strange spectacle that was unfolding.

“Clever,” said Yem Yeddo, with the slightest tinge of anxiety in his voice, as all tyrants are wont to have when confronted with an honest man. “Do you mean to bake bread for the people? That will not work despite your powers of transfiguration, as I have all the grain.” His thugs, like the loyal dogs they were, sensed their master’s discomfort, and gripped the hilts of their weapons.

“I tire of this,” said Yem Yeddo, without realizing the gravity of his own situation. “Break his limbs.”

“Next,” said Intra, “I will turn this rock into air.”

The thirty strong men of Yem Yeddo drew their beating staves and started to approach Intra, slavering and yelping at the thought of snapping his legs like dry twigs and the food they would get as a reward after. Intra was a handsome man who did not have the look of a warrior about him, and the men were very stupid. His eyebrows were thin and delicate, like a woman, and he had lashes like a spider lilly. This made the men laugh uproariously at his effeminate appearance.

Intra, for his part, merely took the rock and raised it high. After all the work he had done with it, it had become quite small, dense, and sharp. Then with a flick of his wrist, he skipped the rock off the air so fast that it cracked like a whip. A sound like thunder rippled across the valley.

Intra was extremely good at skipping rocks, as it had become his famous pastime in his sobriety. He could skip rocks off anything, be it god or man. In this particular case, he skipped the rock off the ribcages of all thirty men in half a second. They blew open like an old basket and the wind whistled merrily through the empty and sputtering spaces where their chests had once been.

‘Behold the air,” said Intra.

Yem Yeddo was astonished, and a great terror overwhelmed him. He was a quick and cowardly man, and fled. The people rejoiced and the granaries were broken open. The bodies of the tyrannical lord’s men were burned without rites and stomped upon. Flour was dragged forth by the sackful, the well Intra dug was quickly filled with fresh water and reinforced with stone, and soon many loaves of bread were emerging, steaming, from his oven. A goat was slaughtered and a great feast was had.

“Thankyou for the hospitality,” said Intra, when the night had grown long. “I will not impose upon you any longer.”

The populace were desperate for him to stay. “Lord Intra,” said they, “Yem Yeddo may yet return, with more men!”

“That is true,” said Intra, “And that I cannot help with you. But remember, men like him have forgotten their mothers. Their feet do not touch the earth, and they grasp at feeble things. They are like a mangy dog fighting over a fetid corpse. They have forgotten that with their brothers, working together, they could bring down a magnificent ox.”

He reached down and picked a goodly sized rock from the floor of the valley.

“This valley is broad and beautiful. It may have one Yem Yeddo, but it contains many more stones.”

#kill six billion demons #k6bd #this is my favorite flavortext from the entire comic's run so far

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maskedtruths666 · 2 years

Text

Paid story Part 1. Denise gets a new job.

“All the best for your interview my love. I know you’ll do extremely well.” Jared said as he bade his girlfriend goodbye as he dropped her off for her interview.

“Thank you dear. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m done so we can head off for dinner okay? But if you get any long distance customers, I can wait for you nearby. Thank you for sending me here. I love you.” Denise replied as gave him a kiss before exiting the car.

Denise was excited as she finally managed to get an interview at a prestigious firm, to begin her financial journey. As she patiently waited her turn for the interview, she could feel herself getting more and more nervous as she’s seen the other candidates. They were all so confident and definitely looked prettier than her.

Finally, her name was called and she entered the interview room. In the room, there was a panel of 7 judges. 3 males and 4 females. Most were part of the HR team but a few of them were part of the investment banking side, which Denise had applied for.

Soon, the interview was over and Denise could not tell if it was a success or not. She could definitely answer all the investment related questions as well as the typical interview questions. She’s just not sure if her education background is good enough to enter.

She quickly met Jared and they spent the day together. Denise was told that she would receive an answer by the end of the day and time was passing her by agonizingly slow. Soon, she received a call at 5.45pm. With a tremble, she answered the phone. Jared was looking at her face to see her facial cues as Denise was listening to the phone. The moment the phone call ended, Denise’s face broke out into a huge smile as she cheered for joy.

“I got accepted and I start tomorrow! They are giving me exactly what I asked for and have added in a huge remuneration package for me should I hit my KPI. However, they’re putting me in the sales department, not the banking analyst department.” Denise said as she broke the news to Jared.

“Fantastic news nonetheless my dear. How much did you ask for?” Jared asked, hoping it’d be more than $5,000 a month because his meager salary of $2,800 to $3,300 a month is barely enough to support the both of them. So he desperately wanted Denise to get a high paying salary as they’ve just gotten a BTO together.

“Well, I asked them for $8,000 and they immediately agreed. And they did say that I have extra duties I could do to hit my KPI which will increase the amount of bonus I get. On top of that, after 6 months of on the job training, I’ll be able to run sales and the $8,000 is just my basic. I’ll be able to make commission and that’s extra money.” Denise said with a proud smile on her face.

The two of them spent the night celebrating and went to bed early.

The next day, Jared helped Denise choose her outfit for her first day at work. He always had this fear that Denise would leave him for a richer guy. After all, she’s way out of his league and he’s just a grab driver, driving a Vezel. He chose a seemingly normal outfit that wouldn’t attract that much attention or show off her perfect figure.

“My love, please don’t overthink okay? I’ll constantly update you within reasonable means. I want to make a good first impression on everyone there. I love you always. Remember that.” Denise said reassuringly as she gave him a kiss and stroked his cock whilst he was driving her to her new office.

“Alright. You’re all mine okay? I can’t stop the guys from staring and there’s nothing I can do. But I’ll still worry okay? If you have time during lunch, just text me a bit.” Jared said as he was trying to concentrate during the morning traffic.

Denise did not respond because she started sucking him off, to reassure him. By the time she reached office, Denise already had a huge protein filled breakfast. She viciously sucked him off whilst he was driving, ignoring his protests because she just has a magical tongue. She didn’t want him to cum all over her face or outfit so she swallowed it whole.

Seeing how he was pretty relaxed and drained out, Denise happily went to work. Jared, seemingly pleased, started driving grab to try and make up for the difference in salary.

When she reached the office, her supervisor greeted her.

“Good morning Denise, you’re early. Fantastic. My name is Joyce and I’m your supervisor. You’ll report to me and no one else.” Joyce said as she extended her arm out to shake Denise’s hand.

“Good morning Joyce. Very happy to be hear. Now, please tell me everything I need to know so I can get started right away.” Denise said, enthusiastically awaiting her orders.

The two of them hit off and soon, it was lunch time. Joyce brought Denise out for lunch where she introduced Denise to the directors of their company.

“Denise, this is Thomas, Dan, Michael and you remember Henry? He was at your interview yesterday.” Joyce said as she introduced Denise to the various directors.

Lunch passed by in a blink of an eye. The day resumed with Joyce continuously teaching Denise and soon, it was 5pm.

“Denise, director of sales, Henry, would like to see you in his office. Apparently he wouldn’t tell me why. But nothing to fear, I’ll be right outside waiting for you.” Joyce said, smiling reassuringly.

Slightly fearful, Denise walked to his office. She knocked on the door confidently and when summoned inside, she took confident steps to Henry’s table.

“Please, have a seat.” Henry said as he gestured to the chair.

As Denise sat down, she wondered what Henry would want with her.

“I’ll be very frank. You must be wondering why we hired you.” Henry said, without any readable expression.

“Yes I was. Very surprised and happy to hear that you guys have chose me out of the lot of them.” Denise replied.

“Yes. You see, out of the lot, you asked for the lowest salary and seemed to be willing to do anything to stand out from the other candidates.” Henry said.

“$8,000 is a huge sum of money for my boyfriend and I. It would totally change our lives.” Denise replied, honestly.

“And that is what I like. Honesty, humility, confidence and of course, a pretty face.” Henry said, smiling.

Seemingly relieved, Denise responded with a smile.

“Anyway, we have a dinner and drinks party later on. You can come with Joyce. It’s at 7.30pm, I trust you can make it?” Henry said, hoping Denise would agree.

“May I ask what’s the occasion?” Denise asked, perplexed.

“We had a fantastic quarter. We want to celebrate and show you how successful you can be. Of course, you said you’d do anything if you got the job, so are you going to come with us for the dinner and drinks?” Henry asked.

Not wanting to decline a director’s invite on the first day, she readily agreed.

“Oh and change out of this set of boring clothes. I bet your boyfriend chose this outfit for you. Wear a cocktail dress later, or don’t bother showing up at all.” Henry said, smirking at her, pushing her limits.

“Haha, you’re right. He chose my outfit and I trust his taste. As I’m sure I will trust his taste with a cocktail dress later on. I’ll see you there director Henry.” Denise smiled.

“Oh and, regarding your KPIs to hit your bonus, I’ve thought of it. You must wear dresses or skirts and blouses with heels to office every day and be my personal secretary. I’ll offer you an annual bonus of $250,000 on top of your salary just for that. I’ll even give you an allowance of $1,000 a month to dress up exactly how I’d want you to.” Henry said, smiling devilishly at Denise.

Playing it cool, Denise said, “Put it in writing. I want the $250,000 to be non taxable and in the form of stocks and crypto.”

“Fuck you’re smart. I like that.” Henry said.

Smiling back, Denise replied, “ I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Your first job as my personal secretary is to draft out a contract with those terms and we’ll sign in here in my office and I’ll bring you out to get a new dress.” Henry said, smiling, as he knew Denise is going to fall into his trap.

Denise, sensing a trap, decided to play along because she thinks she can outsmart Henry.

Soon the contract was done and before Henry signed, he said, “I want to add in one more term that is favorable to me.”

“What is that?” Denise asked.

“As long as you’re working for me or doing my work in my office, you’re only allowed to use your work phone. Your personal phone cannot be touched without my approval.” Henry said, smiling widely.

“So be it.” Denise said immediately and signed the document.

“Ah yes, one last final thing.” Henry said.

“Oh gosh, what is it?” Denise said.

“Get on your knees, suck me off right now and not only will I buy you a dress, I will give you $3,000 in cash immediately.” Henry said as he took out his wallet and casually took out a bunch of 100 notes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Denise said.

“No I’m not. I want to experience first hand how you’re gonna be sucking me off for the rest of the year.” Henry said.

“I am?” Denise replied.

“Your duty as a personal secretary is to assist the director, Henry, in any way that he needs for him to accomplish his day to day directorial duties.” Henry responded, reading the contract word for word.

Realizing she’s stuck and can’t escape the loophole, Denise feared the worst. She unknowingly fell into the trap of becoming a corporate whore.

“Treat me well and I’ll treat you even better.” Henry said as he gently patted Denise’s head, subtly pushing her to her knees.

THE END! Will Denise suck him off? Or will Denise find a way to outsmart Henry? Will Jared find out? Is Joyce filming this down? Is this all part of an elaborate test? Find out in the next part!

Sneak preview of Part 2.

“You’re just a god damn whore aren’t you?”

“Fuck, you’re so damn good. Please don’t stop.”

“Please make me cum.”

“The sluts always end up on their knees for money.”

“You must really want this huh?”

“Fuck me harder, I’m all yours, I’ll always be yours.”

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afiniteredwood · 1 year

Text

Self-indulgent angsty fanfiction for @hybbart 's Ranchers Apocalypse AU :) I haven't stopped thinking about these guys for a solid month. The number of things I had to change after the first draft because I read the Notes Posts is incredible so don't hesitate to mention if I messed up the details somewhere

(Meet Me In The Woods by Lord Huron)

Day 543

Sleeping next to Jimmy objectively sucks.

Don't get Tango wrong- Jimmy is wonderful, a sleepy hugger and a furnace of a man, and Tango is never cold during the winter months. And, mostly, he doesn't have nightmares and doesn't talk in his sleep and Tango knows that he does that. Really, Jimmy has it worse.

But Jimmy is also all ruffled feathers and whimpered noises brought on by elbowed and healing wounds, and the click-fssssssss of the breathing machine, only worsened after his recent battle with pneumonia. It becomes hard to breathe next to him, the farm dust once trapped in Jimmy’s wings clouding into the air whenever he rolls and the regular rumbling of the machine instilling preemptive terror in Tango’s stomach.

Still, on most nights, it is entirely bearable. Tango sleeps. On the days when he does sleep, he sleeps like the still-dead, and on the days where he doesn’t it’s because of the nightmares or the fact he has pointedly not taken his metal arm off, not because of Jimmy.

He always dreams of blood on his hands, spilling in rivulets down his clammy skin. Not what has happened to them, not what could happen, just blood. It’s probably Jimmy’s.

So when, two hours after he had bade ‘Goodnight’ to the bedroom already full of the sound of Jimmy’s even breathing, he gets up and sneaks out again, it is an unusual thing. Revy notices his loss, curled up at the end of the bed, raising his head once and whining. Tango shuts the door softly on him. Revy returns his head to Jimmy’s thigh.

Yellow eyes open in the muted dark.

Tango’s sneaking isn’t particularly effective. (It terrifies him a little, how easy it would be for one of the undead to kill him now.) He’s so tired he feels like he could pass out at any second, and really, the creaking of the farmhouse with every gentle gust of wind is more than Tango will ever be able to unsubtly make.

He makes it to the bottom floor, following the moonlight marking a square of light up the stairs from the glass patio doors to his feet. Spring is still only a dream, so the floor is cold beneath him, and he stands on tip-toes to stumble towards the doors. Something wants him out there- something about being one with nature, of just being able to sit and breathe and relax for a blissfully freezing moment.

Opening the door is difficult with fingers numb from cold on one hand and metal fingers clicking ineffectively over the lock on the other, but he manages. Shit, but it takes him ages though, trying awkwardly to turn the key in the lock with his flesh-and-blood hand and using his other hand crossed over to turn the handle even though the angle hurts. It’s fine. He’s capable of doing whatever needs doing.

He continues unsteadily outwards, dropping down to sit on the edge of the patio when he reaches it, legs dangling in the empty space below him. The forest is spread out in front of him, the house backing directly onto the wildlife that before-the-apocalypse had never allowed him. Quiet. If the apocalypse has done anything good, it has brought silence. It’s too early in the morning yet for birds, but there is wind through the trees and the sleepy mooing of distant cows and the even more distant, barely audible and mostly harmonious groans of the undead.

He hooks one leg back up onto the patio and hugs it against his chest, resting his chin on his knee.

It should be colder than this, really, but it is an exceptionally early spring this year. Already the ground is beginning to thaw during the day and the old seeds in the tool shed have started to smell damp and earthy again. At night and this early in the morning, it is still bitterly cold, but it's not quite as cold as it should be- not quite.

Tango exhales and his breath crystalizes in the air in front of his face. He shivers in his t-shirt and hugs his knee tighter and thinks of Jimmy.

Jimmy stands at the top of the stairs and wonders what he must have done in a past life to deserve Tango. Something great, surely- he must have been a hero.

There is a certain sharp beauty to the way that Tango is outlined against the darkness with his blue fire and sparks that makes Jimmy think of gods he doesn’t believe in. He’s just sitting there, shivering and exhaling stars, and he looks so entirely ethereal doing it. Totally silent, just the regular hum of his breathing that Jimmy can only see from this distance, beautifully poised, like a beast that Jimmy could startle into bolting at any moment.

But he carries the same inherent fear in him as wild animals do, and Jimmy frowns. Tango is never usually scared- not how he is now, hunched in on himself with one hand gripping the deck in the way that only Jimmy can see the tension in. He is only ever on edge, only ever afraid for someone else, only ever worried when there is genuine danger on the horizon.

Jimmy takes a step closer, down the stairs, grimacing at the noise it makes. Tango does nothing, so he shakes his wings gently and cracks his knuckles and breathes louder through his mouth than he usually does in an attempt to not scare Tango out of his skin when he makes his presence known. Nothing.

He abandons any subtlety and follows Tango’s elongated shadow to the open doors, quiet regardless of how much he tries not to be. The doorframe is cold underneath his fingertips.

Tango might be crying- he’s not sure. Noise outlines him in gold and cyan and it ripples with every breath, peaking at weird times that could be from tears or could just be the wind around the collar of his shirt. Jimmy’s almost too scared to ask- does he really want to know why Tango is crying? Why he’s scared? Why he’s hanging onto the back porch of the house Jimmy found for them like he’s fighting the urge to slip down and run away forever?

Yes, Jimmy decides. Yes, he does want to know.

“Tango?” that voice says from the doorway, soft as anything. “Are you working on something?”

Tango does his absolute best not to jump, but he’s pretty sure that Jimmy notices anyway. He shakes his head to dissolve the tension in his frozen muscles, turning only slightly to look at Jimmy’s shadow’s head. He wipes his tears on the back of his hand entirely unsubtly.

“No,” he admits, an invitation bare and raw in his voice. “Not really.”

Jimmy’s exhale casts a faint shadow next to his face in his image on the deck, pluming outwards from where his mouth must be. Jimmy has always had a fun shadow, Tango notices absently- deformed up around his shoulders where he isn’t really, his wings held awkwardly up against the cold. It really does make Jimmy look strange, like some kind of monster, shifting and growing- Jimmy drops down beside him, leaning defiantly back on the heels of his hands and looking up at the sky.

Tango swallows his heart and looks at the ground, where he’s sure he won’t see Jimmy’s face. Whatever, Jimmy has a face like a deity incarnated into the body of someone who has known what love is, whatever. There are plenty of those around, plenty of people who make him want to hide himself away because all his fire and grace pale in comparison to the solid humanity of the man next to him.

“What’s on your mind?” Jimmy asks, before the silence swallows them both.

“Nothing,” Tango says, his eyes on the ground, the tone of his voice meaning ‘Ask me again and I’ll tell you about how I don’t think I ever made my mother proud, and how she’s probably dead now so I’ll never get to know whether I did. Ask that question again and I’ll tell you how there is so little left of her in the world, and how little there was of her when we lived together, and how there was so much more I could’ve done for her that I never did and will never get to do. Ask me again and I’ll tell you that I regret every decision I’ve made since the end of the world, even in and with you and guided by your hand.’

A gust of wind through the trees and a bird coos softly into the open air.

“Tell me,” Jimmy says anyway, face half-turned to catch the sharp moonlight and to try to meet Tango’s eyes. “What are you thinking about?”

The dog comes pattering out from the house behind them, having followed a few minutes after Jimmy. He shakes himself all over and grunts, then settles down between the two of them and noses at Tango’s hand until Tango gives in and pets him.

“Big man,” Tango says, smiling, avoiding the question. “Big shake- oh he wants some scritchies, does he?”

Jimmy frowns at him, but pets Revy too all the same.

“Tango.”

Tango sighs and cannot bring himself to look at Jimmy. Instead, he finds himself looking outwards, at the forest from which one of the undead stragglers could emerge at any time and they would never be prepared in time to defend themselves.

“Don’t you ever feel like you’re running on borrowed time?” he asks the forest, voice quiet and careful.

Jimmy says, “No!” and laughs with such ferocity that it startles Tango into looking at him. Revy leaps up at the sound and jumps and dances around them, barking in the ‘play with me!’ manner that all dogs do when the air around them is happy.

Shit- Tango remembers why he had known it would be a bad idea from the beginning to look.

With his head thrown back and hair tangled around his ears, moonlight catching on his throat and on the fragments of glass and sand still in his wings, Jimmy looks every bit the picture of brilliance. Whatever god has possessed him has made him beautiful, has made the night split about him and the sun spill from his eyes when he opens them to look back at Tango.

Tango’s not sure what face he’s making. Something just short of shock, no doubt- genuine affection blooming in his chest and sneaking onto his face along with this new sort of amazement. He feels himself smile and Jimmy's genuine happiness is so damn contagious that he can't help it even if he doesn't mean the emotion behind the smile. It’s just such a strange reaction, and so much more so from someone like Jimmy-

“Why are you laughing?” he still has to ask, even as Jimmy is still giggling into his hands. “Jimmy?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jimmy amends, tears in his eyes. “I just- you feel that way?”

Tango has to look back into the distance. Yes.

“Yeah.”

Jimmy has no joy in him anymore.

“Oh- I- sorry.” He swallows and returns his hands to the dog, who has fallen back onto the deck with her belly in the air. “Tell me. What do you mean?”

Tango sighs. This was meant to be an emotion dealt with alone.

“You know,” he starts, before realizing how clearly Jimmy does not know. “I mean- we’re still just running from the end of the world. We’re never really going to be safe, are we? We’re always going to be living like this.”

Jimmy tries and fails to not take that comment to heart. Like this- like what? Trapped oh-so-cruelly in the house he had chosen for them, bound by the land nourished by their own hands and the burden of the animals they have given hope to with their presence? Oh, what a truly horrible fate it is, to have to live with one’s friends and family in the countryside.

“You don’t…” Jimmy casts around for words that won’t come out sour and hurtful. “You don’t want to live like this?”

Something in his tone catches Tango’s attention (maybe it’s the betrayal squirming just beneath his skin) and he looks up.

“I don’t want to live during an apocalypse, Jimmy. I don’t want to be in danger. I don't like being scared all the time.”

Oh. Understandable, but-

“We’re not in danger now, are we?”

Tango frowns at him. “That’s not the point-”

“No, but….” He hesitates. “I don’t know. I don’t think we’re running out of time.” That’s not what I said. “This is all I’ve ever wanted, Tango- a farm and a family and a dog and freedom and, you know, what we have.”

“No- not that we’re running out of time.” Something grips Tango and he wants to say things that he’ll regret. “We’re running on borrowed time. It’s going to catch up to us eventually.”

Jimmy laughs. “Same thing, really.”

Tango shakes his head but it doesn’t matter anyway because Jimmy isn’t looking at him anymore. Instead, he stretches out and lies back on the deck, feet still dangling over the edge, wings crushed beneath him, looking at the sky. Revy squeaks and wiggles over to sit next to him, planting his face on Jimmy’s chest.

“We’ll take whatever comes to us, Tango,” he says, somehow with so much calm certainty that it’s almost convincing. “No matter what. We’re going to be okay.”

Tango wonders whether that’s a lie.

“Okay,” he says instead of asking whether it is. “Okay. Okay. Yeah.”

Jimmy glances over at him. There’s nothing but uncertainty in Tango’s self-reassurance.

“Trust me.” Jimmy reaches out to touch whatever part of Tango he can reach- his upturned palm on the deck between them, the metal of it cold. “Tango. Trust me. We’ll get through this.”

Tango’s hand twitches towards the space where his other arm should be and he chokes on a pained whimper- shit, fuck, losing a limb shouldn’t keep hurting after it’s gone. Revy’s ragged tail wags between them in his almost-sleep.

“Okay.”

Sensing the lack of conviction in Tangos’ voice, Jimmy grabs Tango’s arm and tugs him to lie down next to him- well, as close as they can get with the dog snuggled into the little space between them. Tango has never been so uncomfortable in his entire life. He doesn’t move.

“Tango,” Jimmy says, rolling onto his side to take Tango’s face in both of his warm hands. “I promise. We’re going to be okay.”

Tango doesn’t mean to, but he’s crying again, so Jimmy clambers over the dog to crush Tango in an embrace, tucking him close to his chest. Tango struggles closer still, sobbing into Jimmy’s shirt as he clutches onto it.

Jimmy hushes him, rubbing his back in circles. His every breath sounds that little bit more laboured with the air spilling out from the cannula, and Tango’s metal arm is stabbing him in the side.

“We’ll be okay,” he whispers. Tango nods furiously, desperately. Jimmy is briefly glad that Tango’s fire does not catch on other people. “We’re going to be alright.”

Tango makes a choked noise and manages, “We’re going to be okay,” his voice watery and sharp with tears.

Jimmy half-smiles, continuing to rub circles onto Tango’s back. Revy pokes him in the shoulder with his nose and curls up again near Tango’s head. Tango’s whole body shakes with every sob.

“We’re going to be okay,” Jimmy reiterates quietly. “I’ve got you, Tango. We’re going to be okay.”

#tango tek #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #team rancher #rancher apocalypse au #hybbart #fanfiction #angst #this is meant to fit pretty solidly within canon and i did my absolute best with it king #my writing

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