#YOU’RE JUST AIMING FOR THE JUGULAR WITH THIS ONE MY GUY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jasntodds · 6 months

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Petrichor Chapter 12 Teaser - Full Chapter coming 11/08

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb) Teaser Words: 1,834 Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, blood, violence, canon violence, manipulation, gunshot wounds, mentions of drug use, reader is fed the fuck up, description of withdrawal Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞ Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now. A/N: I've really been looking forward to this chapter and it's because of this scene lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

Tim is about to start talking all over again with even more enthusiasm and proof but he gets a look at your face, eying the men as they walk further into the restaurant. Maybe you're just paranoid but they look like they’re up to something. It’s that their walk is steady, determined, but careless. Their eyes don’t land on the menu or Tim or Mr. Drake. They’re pointed at the register. And that’s when you see the reflection of metal sticking out of the last guy’s waistband. He looks to you and then it starts.

The throbbing kicks in like a freight train. It’s an armed robbery and they plan to go out swinging. You're quick, rushing to Tim as they pull out their guns. Gunfire surrounds and encompasses the restaurant as you tackle Tim to the floor behind one of the counters.

Tim leans against the counter, ducking his head with every echo of a gunshot. His eyes are on you as you take a breath, as if to be debating what you're going to do. And Tim knows you knew this would happen. You were running to him before they had their guns pulled. And his thoughts are confirmed when you look back to him with fury in your eyes.

It's been less than five seconds but it gives you enough time to gather yourself. It's all you need. These people are not going to walk in here and murder the people you care about. They picked the wrong restaurant on the wrong night during one of the worst months of your life.

You lift your hoodie, pulling a knife from the belt around your waist before you pop up from behind the counter.

“Ya fucking missed, assholes!” You yell over at them as the knife leaves your fingers, connecting with one of the guys’ eyes, embedding itself deep into his skull as he drops to the ground.

The throbbing starts again from the side and you duck down just before a shot comes your way. You take another deep breath before grabbing another two knives and throwing one, hitting one of their jugulars. The last one still standing locks eyes with you, his gun pointed right at you. He has this...grin, one you almost swear you've seen before but you've never seen him before this. His breathing is steady and he actually looks relaxed while you have your arm ready and aimed with a knife, right at him.

His pupils are blown.

And then your heart sinks because Crane is free on the streets and these guys came in here completely fearless. This one finds the whole damn thing amusing. Maybe he's just high on something else, or maybe you're right and Jason and Crane have moved to disruption. Excellent Gotham wouldn't just be a coincidence.

“Give me the money and it’ll be over.” He says so easily you nearly roll your eyes.

“Kiss my ass.” You throw the knife, hitting this one in the arm with the gun. Then you throw another one, hitting him just below the eye. He drops to the ground in a hard thump, leaving the restaurant a glass and gun-shelled mess. The smell of gun metal seeps into the air while an eery and dense silence consumes the place.

Tim calls your name not ten seconds after the last man drops. There's panic in his voice, a sense of dread. You rush right over to him where he's against the food counter now, his dad leaning against the side of it. Blood seeps through Tim's hands are he tries to hold pressure on the wound. You kneel down, seeing Mr. Drake breathing heavily. Your eyes scan over him, quickly running over the crash course Jason gave you in gunshot wounds once.

“He’s been shot!” Tim yells, desperation in his eyes as he looks to you.

"Okay, move." You urge as Tim pulls his hands away. You lift Mr. Drake's shirt, seeing the wound oozing and you think you might prefer knife wounds instead of gaping holes. "It's gonna take the ambulance ten to fifteen to get here," You rush out. "So, we--"

"Is that...?" Tim asks, cutting you off as his eyes are on the window. He only even looked up to see if he saw someone for help or Stephen but instead of help, he just saw one person.

Jason Todd.

You look up just in time to catch a glimpse of him before he turns around. This cannot really be happening right now.

“Okay, keep pressure.” You look to the door, seeing Stephen rush in. “Stephen, call an ambulance and grab some towels!” You yell as you get to your feet. “Stay here, hold pressure with the towels. I’ll be right back.” Your words nearly slur together as they come out as fast as your mouth will let them,

You rush outside where you see Jason, his back facing the open windows of the restaurant. You can’t believe this. Of all the things he could do, of all the damn people in Gotham he could target, he really came for you. For your friend and his family. You can’t fucking do it anymore. This is insane. If he wants to go after Dick, fine. Sibling rivalry bullshit taken to an extreme. But this? This is targeting innocent fucking people.

“Jason!” You seethe as you approach him. “What. The. Fuck!?” You scream, nearly vibrating from the anger coursing through your veins.

But then Jason faces you.

The anger washes away as your mouth opens, looking for words. There are dark circles under his eyes, a hollowed expression of the charism that used to radiate off of him. Maybe it’s the dark lighting but you swear the green in his eyes is pale, his skin is pale. He looks like a shell of who he used to be. He’s been acting like it but now…he really looks the part and you're getting the idea that something really bad is happening.

Jason’s eyes are wide, tired, and exhausted but wide as he sees you come to a dead stop a few feet away from him. Why are you here? You're not supposed be here. He didn't see you inside of the restaurant. Not before the gunfire or after. How did he miss you? It can’t be you. He just wanted to show Crane he was right. He wanted to prove he could do this. He chose Excellent Gotham on purpose, a way to show Crane it’s a threat at you without being a real threat. He knows you went to Tim for help. You weren’t supposed to be here.

Jason questions your name, closing the rest of the distance between the two of you.

His hands immediately come to your face for just a second. He keeps his right hand on your cheek, while the other hand goes to your waist. His eyes scan you over quickly, desperate to make sure you weren’t hurt in the gunfire. He didn’t take the drug again yet, he was saving it for after. He’s scared. Panicked. Desperate and guilty. You have blood on your hands and on your clothes. Can’t be yourrs. Not you.

Please not you

“Are you hurt?” Jason rushes but his voice is weak and fragile, echoed in pain.

You eye him and you're stuck between wanting to punch him and wanting to kiss him in hopes to make it all better again. He’s slipping so far away from you and you're scared how far he’s willing to fall. Crane is doing something to him. He has to because he didn’t look like this last night. He didn’t even seem like he cared this much last night. Right at this exact moment, he feels like the old Jason. And you nearly get sucked right back into his gravitational pull.

“What…” The venom is gone from your voice. “What is he doing to you?” You ask, your hand comes to to his face. Not him. Not again.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jason’s voice breaks.

“You know I’m always here. I was hanging out with Tim. Jason…what the hell is he giving you?” You look him over and you notice him favoring his leg. You haven’t seen him much since he’s been back from the dead but this is the first time since that first day you're noticing it. You always notice it.

“Are you hurt?” Jason asks again and he can feel his heartbeat in his throat. He wants to spit his own heart right onto the ground in hopes it’ll stop the pain in his chest.

“No. I’m fine. It’s not mine.” You urge, catching him glancing at your free hand. “Jason, what is Crane giving you?”

Jason shakes his head, dropping his other hand to your waist. He misses you. He’s been so damn high all the time, he’s been able to ignore the longing in his chest. The one who always swore was his heart searching for yours. He could ignore it with ease but Crane has been keeping the drug close to his chest and this batch isn’t very good. He can feel it more tonight. It’s wearing off quicker. He can feel the worry for you and the care and the fact he fucking misses you. And the guilt for everything that’s led you both here.

“Same shit.” Jason grits his teeth. “You took it, you know.” He hates the words leaving his lips because they sound bitter and angry but it’s not at you. He just wants you to be okay and he wants to get the fuck out of here.

“No.” You shake your head, your voice soft. “Are you sure it’s the same drug? Jason, you look…is he withholding it from you?” His skin is cold and clammy under your fingers and his hair is flatter than usual.

You've seen it, what withdrawal looks like. You saw it on the streets and that’s what Jason looks like. Why would Crane do that? He’s insane and he doesn’t actually give a shit about Jason but Jason has been doing all of his bidding. You figure Jason is here with the drug. That’s why he just stood here while Excellent Gotham was attacked, he probably gave it to them. Surely, that has to be part of the plan. But, if that's the case, then why does Jason look like he's been thrown headfirst into withdrawal? And why would Crane be doing this?

“Stay the fuck out of it. I have it. It’s the same shit. It’s fine.” Jason grits his teeth. He wants to break. He wants to lose it for the first time since that first day on the roof with you. It feels like it's been months since and it's only been a week. And you look at him with worry and fear and you have always had a way with getting Jason to breathe. But, he can't afford that right now. Not you. “Please.”

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#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #petrichor #tw: blood #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction

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asirensrage · 10 months

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Tammy Thompson Takes on the Upside Down

<3<3 thanks for asking! This is one of my all time fave scenes.

“Look! It’s the butch who’s back!” I looked over at the boy who called out at my appearance in shop class. It was the same kid who asked me if I was in the wrong place last time. He was hitting one of his friends as they laughed. I already had a headache. I was in no mood to put up with this. “Oh good,” I called back. “It’s jerk class. I was hoping I wasn’t late for the lecture on how to overcompensate for the lack of one's sexual prowess.” The laughter slowly stopped as they looked at each other. I rolled my eyes and sat in the same seat I sat in last time. “That should occupy them for some time,” I muttered. I heard Jonathan laugh softly. “No need to be a bitch, Thompson, just because you’re not getting any,” the same guy from before called over again. I looked over the machine in front of me. “Guess that explains your personality.” “I can squeeze you into my schedule, babe, if you want an attitude adjustment. Who knows, maybe getting laid will make you feel like a girl again.” I felt my mouth drop open at the comment. Wow. Considering how often he was trying to harass me in this class, it seemed like he was trying hard to be seen, to be noticed by somebody. I aimed for the jugular. “I’m sorry,” I said, in the bitchiest voice I could manage, “but do I even know you?” “What?” He looked shocked. In fact, everyone was looking surprised. “Do I know you?” I repeated slowly. “Like, why are you talking to me? Do you honestly think that I would be looking to some boy who is so obviously trying to hide his insecurities, for, what, a good time? I doubt you could even get a girl off, let alone spend an hour with you.” “I have a girlfriend!” he snapped. “Give her my sympathies,” I said dryly.

Send me one of my fics or ocs and I’ll share with you my fave scene from it/their story!

#i fucking love kate okay?#lol #fic asks #nemesis729 #fic: tammy thompson takes on the upside down

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jonathanvik · 1 year

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Starlight Dream - Chapter 34

“Colten! It is you!” To her bones, Seina understood this as an indisputable fact. Though, how he’d gain magical powers and a human form was beyond her.

“Uh, well.” Paliah dithered, taken aback by this pronouncement. She stared at him, daring him to lie to her face and deny it. He sighed and capitulated, admitting the truth. “Yes, it’s true, Seina. I’m your partner, Colten.”

“But how?”

“It’s a long, complicated story,” Paliah said.

“Wait, what?! This guy’s your fairy partner?!” Miko gapped, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Yep, this is Colten,” Seina said, confirming the truth.

“…” Chō stared, eyes wide. This sudden revelation was just as shocking to the usually unflappable magical girl.

“Yes, explain!” Miko said, outrage creeping into her voice. “This shouldn’t be possible!”

“Well, you’re not getting one!” Paliah said, smugly. “It’s a secret!”

“Whatever,” Miko said, snorting. “All the more reason to kill this monster! I-it’s just unnatural!”

“Your face is unnatural.” Paliah shot back.

“Shut up!” Miko’s face turned red as she backhanded Paliah across the shore. With a rough hand, she grabbed him by his long white hair and put a blade to his exposed throat. “If you’re a fairy, it makes sense I wasn’t able to kill you.”

Blood pooled down Paliah’s armor as the knife’s tip nicked into his jugular. Miko continued her speech, her tone conversational. “As long as Seina lives, you can’t die. Well, whatever. You can survive as just a head.”

“Colten!” Seina’s hackles raised, fury guiding her as she fought against the robots restraining her. While she struggled to get leverage, her captors were having great difficulty holding her. No one hurt her fairy partner!

My power is strength, right? That means nothing should have the power to contain me! She focused her energy on herself, refusing to be contained.

“Shoot!” Miko said, tossing Paliah aside to address Seina. “I’m forgetting who’s a greater danger.”

Liquid agony passed through her as knives dug into her chest, each aimed at a different vital organ. The pain caused tears to string Seina’s eyes, but it only fueled her determination to save her friend. The entire coast shook from the impact as she stomped one foot on the ground. Her robot captors flew sideways, jolted out of place. With their grip slackened, Seina ripped herself free. With a dismissive slap, each shattered to dust. Seina staggered as a kunai pierced her heart, but she only sent a baleful glare toward her attacker.

“...”

“What a monster.” Miko’s ever-dominant confidence became speckled with doubt. But such hesitations faded, replaced with certainty. “You’re right, Chō. She’s too much of a hassle to bring in alive. Killing her is our best option.”

“Bring it,” Seina said, her tone frigid. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped her staff hard.

“Careful,” Paliah said. “Miko’s ability can detect any weakness. She’ll always strike where you’re the most vulnerable!”

“Thanks, Colten.” Seina gave her friend a half-smile before redirecting her baleful glare back toward her opponents.

Without preamble, she darted toward Miko with her wand prepared for battle. Despite Seina’s nimbleness, Miko’s knives always seemed to know where to strike her. Seina’s knees buckled as several kunai stabbed her legs, but no amount of pain would deter her from her goal.

Sweat dripped down Miko’s forehead as she tried to keep her distance, but Seina’s ceaseless persistence dogged her. A kunai dug into her dominant hand, causing Seina to almost drop her weapon. It didn’t stop Seina from whipping her wand toward Miko’s chest.

“Monster,” Miko gasped, blood dripping from her mouth as the blow connected. Her knees wavered as she struggled to keep standing. Her fight against Paliah had weakened her almost to utter exhaustion. Even magical girls had their limits. Before Seina could finish her opponent, Chō boosted her mecha forward to protect her ally.

“You’re nicer than most. Other magical girls would have abandoned their ally without hesitation.” Seina said, surprised by the sudden act of loyalty.

“...” Chō only tightened her grip on her controls, ready to fight.

Before Seina could engage, her steps paused as something unusual happened. The sky, which had already shifted into daylight, darkened, turning a deep red. No, it’d gone blood-red.

“This is your doing?” Seina asked, somewhat confused. This didn’t match either magical girl’s power set. Instead of responding, pure fright appeared on each magical girl’s face. What was going on? What had spooked them?

“...”

“I agree,” Miko said, whipping the blood from her lips. “Do it.”

Before Seina could ponder this mystery, Chō’s mecha’s arms opened to reveal two missile launchers. Seina braced for battle, but the other magical girl aimed them toward the ground instead. An explosion blasted sand everywhere, choking and blinding. When the dust cleared, both magical girls had vanished.

“What was that about?” Seina blinked, searching in vain for the other magical girls.

“This is not good!” Paliah said, limping towards her.

“What’s going on?” Seina asked. “What spooked them?”

“This sky must be due to another magical girl,” Paliah said, voice grim. “I think it’s blocking any escape from this universe.”

A sneaking suspicion drove ice into Seina’s heart. Little wonder Miko and Chō had been so terrified. “Reiko, she must have found us!”

“I hope not,” Paliah said, alarmed. “Though I’m not sure why she’d announced their presence like that.”

“I don’t like this.” Seina cursed, daggers of worry stabbing at her heart. “Let’s get back to the others. We can’t afford to be caught alone, especially if it’s Reiko!”

In a poof of smoke, Paliah transformed back into regular, old Colten. While bruised, he seemed otherwise alright and perched on her shoulder. The poor little guy needed a rest, but Seina figured their nightmarish day had only begun.

---

The city of Osaka was a jumble of pent-up nervousness as Seina and Colten walked back toward the Prime Minister’s apartment complex. People gave the unusual-colored sky nervous glances, fearful of what it might portend. Otherwise, the citizens tried their best to resume daily life.

Wary of getting caught unaware, Seina remained in her magical girl form. It was an unexpected blessing, ordinary people taking comfort in their guardian’s presence. While they walked, Seina listened to her fairy partner’s wild story.

“Really? And drinking her blood made you like that?” Seina said, amazed. It’d been brave standing against a foe such as Lotus Butcher. If Colten hadn’t intervened, Dreven might have gotten super powerful with Emiyo’s blood.

“The next day, I noticed I had time powers! I experimented with them in secret. With some effort, I figured out how to assume human shape. I absorbed some humanness from Emiyo? I don’t really understand how this whole business works. Something about taking her blood changed me, altered how my natural magic works!”

“Huh.” What a remarkable story. “So why the mask and secret identity?”

“I thought it’d be cool.” Colten sighed, giving a chagrined smile. “A mysterious protector! A cool guy with a sword fighting from the shadows. Pity, it failed so badly.”

“Well, I thought you were really cool! You’re so strong, Colten!” She giggled as her partner turned to beat red from embarrassment and stuttered his thanks.

“I was going to tell you, eventually! When the time was right!”

Seina chuckled, wondering how long he would have stalled telling her. Or would she have figured it out? With Colten and Paliah never appearing in the same place together, she was sure she would’ve picked it up eventually.

“Mind if I tell the others?”

“No, go ahead,” Colten said, resigned. “No point in hiding it.”

“Still, I’m glad to have you on the team! It’s great to have you at my back!” Seina said, with feeling. She blinked as Colten frowned. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure. Do you hear something?” Colten said, ears flicking.

They both screamed bloody murder as a plane came out of nowhere, scissoring the nearest building in half. People shrieked in panic, fleeing for their lives. The next few moments were utter chaos, with dust and debris flying everywhere. The plane continued barreling forward, almost crashing into her. It landed in a scream of metal, devastating anything in its path. It had reduced the area into a complete disaster zone. During the entire time, Seina thought she’d heard someone laughing in glee.

“Are you okay?” Seina said, choking on dust. Smoke was added to the flavor as the engine caught on fire, adding to the misery. Around her, people wept and moaned, some seriously injured as the shockwave blew them clear.

“I’m fine,” Colten said, trying and failing to crawl back to her shoulder. With a plop, Seina placed him back in place.

“What happened?” What a mess. It’d be a lucky thing this hadn’t been that populated an area. But Seina wasn’t sure about the building the plane had crashed into. The impact had caused it to implode, little remaining besides concrete rubble and support beams. With so much devastation, Seina wasn’t sure where to begin helping.

After a split second of consideration, she headed towards the plane. There might be some survivors. But she wasn’t optimistic, the machine was reduced to smoldering twisted metal. She grimaced when she spotted a dangling leg covered by rubble, crimson oozing like a waterfall. Metal shrieked in protest as it tore away from the plane’s roof. As more bodies appeared, Seina’s hopefulness dimmed. Nobody appeared to be breathing.

“Any luck?” A granny said, yelling up toward her.

“I’m not sure. You have better ears, Colten. Is anyone still alive?”

Her partner’s ears twitched, nodding. “I hear someone breathing outside.”

“Don’t move them, dears.” The granny said. “Help’s coming!” Already, they could hear emergency vehicles zooming toward them. The recent recovery efforts after the vampire’s defeat had made humanity good at quickly addressing disasters. Her occasional fights with vampires sometimes caused considerable damage. But what had caused this crash? Another mischievous vampire?

A whole plane, too. Those things aren’t cheap.

“What the heck?” Colten called from higher towards the plane’s nose, distracting Seina from helping the trapped person. “A crash didn’t cause that.”

Seina turned, finding what he’d been talking about. Her partner pointed towards the cockpit at a man slumped in the pilot set.

“What the?” A chill went down Seina’s spine as she saw the poor pilot’s state.

“That rocked!” A voice said. Seina yelped in surprise as a figure burst from some nearby rubble.

“Wha?” She blinked her eyes, uncertain her vision was working right. The girl was wearing an oversized fireman’s outfit, its sleeves flopping about as she flailed her arms. Dust fell from her green hair as the girl shook her head like a dog. Much to her confusion, there wasn’t a scratch on her.

“Are you okay, dear? Were you thrown by the crash?” The older woman said, concerned.

“Get away from her!” Colten said, pure panic in his voice. In a flash of insight, Seina realized why.

“Do you know this magical girl?” Seina asked. A fairy popped up from the rubble confirming her theory!

“Riding that plane’s roof was so much fun!” The girl said, doing a dance. Her bizarre outfit bounced with her steps. “So epic!”

“Too right!” The fairy fist-bumped her partner.

The granny blinked, uncertain if the girl was okay in the head. She stepped back, sensing something was wrong.

“That’s Yuuka Tsujikawa!” Colten said, his voice quivering. “She’s one of the Devil Princesses!”

“Yep! Call me Geranium Mania!” Yuuka said, not turning to address them. Instead, she studied the carnage she’d caused with utter delight.

What’s with this girl? While the other magical girls of Starlight Dream were evil, this one seemed beyond callous of the havoc she caused.

“That’s far enough. Your reign of terror stops here.” Seina said, entering a fighting pose. Much to her irritation, the girl continued to ignore her.

“Er,” Seina stood awkwardly, waiting for the other magical girl to respond.

“Attack her now, before she can transform!” Colten said, showing an uncharismatic amount of ruthlessness.

“But,” Seina hesitated before nodding.

Against such a foe, they couldn’t afford to show any quarter. Thankfully, the older woman realized the situation and fled for her life. Sirens approached closer, increasing Seina’s urgency to defeat this monster.

But she faltered, her instincts screaming Yuuka wasn’t as vulnerable as she appeared. The Devil Princess’s posture was utterly unconcerned, making Seina hesitate further.

“You’re smarter than you look,” Yuuka said, turning to address her. “But I don’t mind if you attack. I don’t need my full magical girl powers to defeat you.” She said this so casually. It terrified Seina even further.

Yuuka spread her arms wide, inviting attack. “Go ahead, hit me with everything you’ve got!”

I can’t afford to hold back. She’s underestimating me. I’ll use that to my advantage.

The earth shook as Seina dashed forward, aiming a punch toward the Devil Princess’s exposed head. But a fist casually blocked it, like a toddler had thrown it. Her next attack only struck open air, Yuuka dodging with ease.

“What?” None of her attacks worked, Yuuka casually deflecting each one. Seina yelped in surprise as a sudden kick tripped her to the ground. Darn it. And her tiredness from her previous fight wasn’t helping.

A sudden jab to the throat made Seina gag, howling a gargled cry of pain. She retaliated with a kick, but Yuuka only slipped aside. Blood coughed from her mouth as a fist impaled her chest.

“This is the reason I wear this jumpsuit,” Yuuka said. “So much easier to clean up bloodstains!”

A kick sent Seina flying, the pain making even standing up impossible. She heaved, powerless against the Devil Princess’s might.

“Seina!” Colten said, utterly helpless to assist.

“How dull. The greatest threat to Starlight Dream? Please.” Yuuka said, hunching down and sulking to herself. “I rushed here for nothing!”

“We can still have some fun!” Yuuka’s partner said, floating behind her. “There is plenty of stuff to destroy.”

“Maybe,” Yuuka said, her mood still deflated.

“Didn’t Reiko say she had allies?” The fairy continued. “We could make a game of it!”

“Yes! I love games!” Yuuka said, her eyes sparkling.

“People’s lives aren’t a game!” Seina said, her heart blackening with rage. It brought back terrible memories of the sick games vampires had played with their slaves for their amusement. They’d once forced her to compete in one against their greatest champion in a contest she couldn’t logically have won.

“Oh no, little one, they are! And you’re a contestant!” A fist made Seina’s head ring like a bell, thrust into the street’s pavement so hard that a deep crack had formed along it. “And this world will be the arena!”

“But what will be the rules?” Yuuka swung Seina’s head around in an absentminded gesture. Seina hissed, her neck throbbing something fierce from the jerky movement. “It should make things entertaining.”

“And everyone should play! It’s fairer that way! You have other magical girl friends, right?” Yuuka said, words coming out of her mouth as soon as they appeared in her head. “Have they tried to stop me from killing everyone on the planet? Naw, too easy for me. No! I have it! You can be the cops. I’ll be the robber!”

“Eh?” Seina said, trying to reorient herself to look into Yuuka’s eyes.

“I’ll run, cause mayhem and you’ll try to stop me! To make things fair, I won’t use my magical girl form. If you’re lucky, you might kill me!” The Devil Princess snickered, fighting back laughter. “No, I’m kidding. That’s ludicrous! The very thought!”

“I’ll give you a day to stop me,” Yuuka said. “And don’t worry about killing me. You just need to tap me on the head three times, then I’ll surrender and leave your universe! I super promise!”

Doubtful. Would the Devil Princess really leave that easily?

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you some time to recover!” Yuuka said, giving Seina three patronizing pats on the head. “Because I won’t make it easy for you. You may get a little bitty hurt trying to catch me. And if you fail to win, I’ll kill you all and destroy this entire universe!”

A chill went down Seina’s spine and stabbed daggers in her heart. How could anyone say that so casually?

“Come on. Let’s get something to eat. I’m in the mood for Mexican! Think this universe has a Mexico?” The Devil Princess chatted with her partner, talking about nothing.

“Um.” The granny said, peeking over some rubble. She gave Seina a worried glance, terrified by her injuries. “Don’t worry, dear. I…” Blood spattered in an explosion of carnage as Yuuka blew her head off with a casual swipe of her hand. With a smirk, she tossed the woman’s decapitated head toward Seina.

As the kindly grandma’s head rolled to a stop, Seina stared into her dead eyes. Her breath came out in pained heaves, her emotions exploding with pain, grief, and terror. With stiff muscles, she scrambled away, not wanting to continue seeing such a horrible sight.

“And that’s just a taste of the carnage tomorrow, Seina,” Yuuka said, her eyes gleaming. There was no humanity within them, only madness. “You better entertain me. You won’t like the consequences otherwise.”

#slice of life #stories #satire #starlightdream #battle #comedy #cute #anime stories #action adventure #action #young adult #anime #vampires #literature

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agustdakasuga · 3 years

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Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 22

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

Finally, it’s time for everything to come to an end.

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter warning(s): Mentions of abuse, violence, gore, blood and death. There is weapon use in this chapter.

The door opened, letting the light shine in again. You didn’t even bother lifting your head. Everything in your body ached. How long have you been here? You weren’t really sure anymore.

“Breakfast.” The sound of the tray being placed down.

“Not hungry...” You mumbled, pressing your cheek against your arm as you looked to the side. Then you felt a light nudge against your ankle. That made you lift your head slightly. Instead of sitting at his usual corner, he was sitting opposite you, the tray between you.

“Eat.” He said.

“I’m not hungry right now.”

“Why?” You didn’t even reply to that. You let out a yawn, followed by a sigh. The tray was pushed against your leg again.

“You’ll need the energy.” He said, undoing the binds around your wrists. You didn’t really understand what he meant but you also didn’t really have the mood to banter today.

“Eat.” He repeated. When he was done, he stood up straight and headed back to his same spot to sit. You gave him a look, pushing the food around the tray.

“Thanks...” You murmured and took your first bite. Unlike your other meal chats, you were silent, taking small bites of your food here and there.

“I’m done.” You pushed the tray away. More than half the tray of food was left. The tray was picked up, followed by retreating footsteps and the door closing. You stared at the wall until you realised.

He didn’t bind your hands back.

“What...?” You looked around to see if there was someone else in the room. This wasn’t a trap. You scrambled around until you saw, under the water bottle left behind, a key was hidden.

“Please, please.” You chanted, jamming the key into the keyhole on the ankle brace. When the lock shifted, you almost cried out in relief.

“Where’s the exit?” You bunched up your skirt, trying your best to tie it together so it wouldn’t hinder you when you run. The first thing you did was press your ear to the door to hear for footsteps. There were no sounds outside but you still poked your head out to look first. The coast was clear so you made a break for it, running down the hallways.

“Come on.” You panted, trying to find the exit but this place seemed like a maze. You guessed that you were probably in some warehouse, judging by the sheet metal walls and concrete floors.

“She’s gone!”

“Find the girl!”

“This way!” You heard shouts behind you and quickened your pace. But all the hallways looked the same. You just kept running, hoping to find an open door or exit soon.

“Aish!” Someone grabbed your wrist, yanking you to hide behind another wall. You pressed your back against the wall, seeing two guys run past you.

“Why are you still here?” The male beside you panted.

“I couldn’t find the exit. This place is a freaking maze.” You said through gritted teeth. He shook his head. As you were opening your mouth to speak again, he hushed you, taking his pistol out of his holster.

“Take this.”

“Are you crazy?! I can’t shoot a gun.”

“I’m not asking you to go crazy and start shooting up the place. Just use it to get away if you need to. Pull this back, aim and shoot. I’ll buy you some time. The exit is down this hallway, make a right. Now go!” He shoved you in the direction of said exit. You turned to look back.

“What about you?” You panicked.

“Just go! I’m buying you time. And I have an extra.” He waved his spare pistol in the air. Even if you wanted your freedom, you were still hesitant.

“Go and don’t look back.” He said before separating from you. You continued running, shaky hands holding onto the gun by your side. Finally, at the end of the hallway, you saw the door.

“Please.” When the knob turned, your heart soared. Was this really the thing separating you from your freedom now?

“Where do you think you’re going?” One of the men stood on the other side of the door. You didn’t have a choice, you lifted the gun. The male took a weary step back.

“Just let me go. And I won’t shoot.” You threatened.

“Well...” You saw his hands moving to reach for his weapon. On instinct you clicked the gun and shot his shoulder. He cried out in shock as he went down.

“Move again and you’re dead.” You held the gun over him as you clicked it into place again. But your victory was short lived when you felt an arm wrap around your neck. You would have thrashed around or try to hit him but you felt the coolness of a blade press against your neck, right where you jugular was. That made you immobile.

“Drop the gun.” He said into your ear. You were defeated, dropping the weapon onto the ground.

“Walk.” He pulled you backwards and you followed, your feet shuffling backwards. You watched with longing eyes as the door got further and further. Just like that, whatever light you saw slowly disappeared.

“Tell boss I found the girl.” He told another person before throwing you back into that room.

“Oh doctor, you just had to try and escape. That’s cute.” The boss said, circling around you. You panted, lifting your head to shoot him a glare.

“You even shot one of my men. I’m impressed.” He clapped.

“But because of you...” The boss waved for the other men to bring in the male who helped you escape. He had been roughed up for sure, his eye was bruised and parts of his face swollen up.

“Take it out on me. Leave him out of this.” You growled.

“Aww, isn’t that cute? Both of you fighting to play the hero. But unfortunately, this is a matter of betrayal.” The boss kicked him, making the already injured male groan in pain. He managed to peep open his eyes to make eye contact with you.

“But first, tell me, boy. Why betray your family? Don’t tell me you have fallen for her charm like those stupid Bangtan boys.” He threw his head back in laughter.

“Family?” He scoffed but coughed right after, spewing out blood.

“I took you in, took care of you and provided for you. This is how you repay me?” He began to rain more punches and kicks on the boy, making him wince and moan in more pain.

“Stop it!” You shouted.

“Don’t worry, doc. I promise, after this, it’s your turn.” He laughed. That was when he took his gun out, the other men that watched lifted the boy up for their boss to press the barrel of the gun right against his forehead. Your heart sank. This boy didn’t deserve to die for helping you. Now you regretted everything that you ever said to him.

“Any final words?” The boss asked.

“It’s all my fault, I never should have...” You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“It’s not your fault... It was me, holding onto the last bit of my independence.” He smiled before a deafening bang sounded through the room. Blood spattered out from the back of his head and onto the wall, the bullet having gone right through.

“Hasn’t there been one time where you felt that you could never do anything for yourself? Then when you’re given that bit of independence, to finally do something for yourself, that’s all you want to hold onto?”

Those were your words.

“That was touching.” The boss wiped a fake tear. The body fell forward, a small blood pool forming under his head. You wanted to throw up.

“Now, as for you, doctor.” The boss turned to you.

“Just shoot me.” You dared, done with all this. Maybe death was really the better option now.

“Tempting but no can do. I need you here for the final show. And our main guests aren’t even here yet. But don’t worry, you won’t wait too long. I think they’ll be here very soon.” The boss smiled.

“Rough her up before they come.” The boss told him men before leaving.

“Finally. Payback. After what Jungkook did to me back then.” The petty male landed the first punch, followed by kicks. Usually, you were try to cocoon yourself to protect yourself but you just couldn’t take your eyes off the bleeding body before you. His eyes were still open, staring at you.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered to him as you cried silently.

“Remember our priority. Get (y/n) out of there. Then we kill the boss.” Namjoon reminded. The 6 boys nodded their heads. They were getting close to finding you and bringing you home.

“Whoever finds (y/n) first, just take her to one of the cars and get her to the nearest hospital. The rest of us will handle the boss.” Jin said.

“Let’s go.” They all ran towards the big warehouse. With every other possible hideouts having been search and burnt, this was the only place left. When the men saw them, they immediately got into position, their boss having told them prior to expect the 7. But all the boys saw was red. Bullets were shot and blades were swung.

“Ugh!” Jimin went down as he was attacked by two men but Taehyung swung his bat, hitting one straight in the head while Jimin drove his sword into the other’s abdomen.

“Thanks.” Jimin nodded to Taehyung, running forward and jumping to hide slash as a few men. Jungkook tackled some men to the ground.

“We’re wasting time.” Hoseok grunted as he shot someone. Jin used the handle of his gun to knock some guys out.

“Split up!” Yoongi shouted and they all went their separate directions.

“Watch my back.” Yoongi said to Hoseok and Jimin as he checked the rooms. They were all empty, except for some storage items. Namjoon and Jin opened a room, where more men of the gang were. That led to more wasted time trying to fight them off. Taehyung and Jungkook moved together.

“Damn our luck. I hope the others were better than us.” Jin laughed sarcastically as Namjoon punched some men. He reloaded his guns and shot at whoever tried to come at them.

“Jungkook! Get down!” Taehyung pulled the maknae down. Although they wanted to fight, they had to save energy and ammo.

“Find them! They’re somewhere around here.” A group of men ran past them.

BEEP BEEP

“Yoongi hyung’s team found the boss.” Jungkook said as he checked his pager. Once the coast was clear, they moved to the location that was sent to them. The 7 of them met up again.

“He's in there. I heard the men talking.” Jimin informed. With that, Jungkook backed away slightly before kicking the door down and running in. The boys all stood there, blood staining their clothes. They could feel it, the end of everything was nearing. As they came face to face with their enemy, the one who took you.

“Welcome.” He smirked from his comfortable spot on the couch.

“Where is she?!” Jimin pointed his katana at him, the blade merely a few inches from his face.

“Ah, ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He taunted, waving his hand. That was when you were brought in, kneeling in front of the couch. Your dress was dirtied and you were beaten up, bruises and cuts littering your face and limbs.

“(y/n)...” Jungkook called out softly. Your eyes were lidded as you swayed dangerously. You were losing consciousness, fast. It was obvious from the dried blood trail on your temple. Even when a pistol was pressed to the back of your head in a threatening manner, you didn’t flinch. The boys took a step forward.

“One more step...” The boss threatened and the male that held the pistol clicked the gun into place.

“What do you want?” Namjoon growled.

“Oh, how great man fall. All for a single woman. Honestly, I couldn’t believe my ears when I was told that the dangerous Bangtan had fallen for a girl, some doctor. That was until I saw it for myself.” He started.

“I wanted to know just what about her was able to bring the 7 of you to your knees. Then, I met her.” He turned to you.

“I can see why you all adore her.” Using his finger, he lifted your chin. There were a few growls and fist clenches. He side eyed the boys, liking the reaction that he was getting out of them.

They hated it. They hated the fact that you were right in front of them and yet, they couldn’t save you if they wanted you alive. They hated that they were the reason that you were in this position. You weren’t supposed to be here, you were supposed to be well protected in their house, there to heal them when they got hurt.

“I’ll ask again. What is it you want?” Namjoon asked through gritted teeth. They were all resisting the urge to shoot the man in front of them.

“The Bangtan empire. You all don’t deserve what you have. You don’t have what it takes to run such an empire when you’re so weak for a mere woman.” The boss said in frustration.

“That’s it? You want money? Our companies?” Yoongi glared.

“Sure.” The boss shrugged. The boys were suspicious. There was no way this man went through all this trouble just for their empire.

“Take it.” Jin said.

“Also, I might keep the doctor with me. She’s fun to have around. Her skills and feisty attitude would be a great addition to my gang.” He smirked. This man was just playing them now.

“Over my dead body.” Taehyung sneered. Whatever it is, they were going to make sure that you went home with them today. Alive.

“Looks like we have a problem then.” The boss grinned.

“Take one step closer.” Hoseok threatened the few men he saw slowly getting closer. It was obvious that they were waiting for the boys to put their guard down attacking them.

“I changed my mind, I don’t just want your empire.” The boss shrugged. That had been the goal all along. He wanted to make sure that Bangtan is ended here, permanently. And that he would be the one to end them. Namjoon’s eyes followed the movements of the boss.

“Unfortunately, you don’t have the upper hand. Unless you want to say goodbye to the doctor.” He smirked at Namjoon.

“Drop your weapons. Go on.” He commanded. One by one, the boys dropped their weapons. With another wave of the hand, the men moved in on them. The boys grit their teeth, fighting to urge to fight back as they were hit.

“See? Weak.” The boss scoffed.

BANG!

The boys froze, turning around. Everyone else stopped. That was when they saw the man, who was holding the gun to your head, on the ground, dead. You stood shakily, holding the pistol in your hand as you aimed directly at the boss.

“Next time... remove the dead guy’s extra gun before you leave his body...” You smirked. The boss turned to you.

“Tell them to move back.” You demanded.

“You wouldn’t dare...” He taunted. You clicked the gun, showing that you weren’t joking. Oh, how to tables have turned. If you managed to shoot the other guy already, you didn’t have a problem killing the boss too. Remembering the boy’s fallen body, it only made you angrier. Sensing your threat wasn’t empty, the boss nodded for his men to fall back.

“(y/n)...” Jin called out softly.

“A life for a life.” You pulled the trigger, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you collapsed. Luckily, Jungkook was quick to run over and catch you before you could hit the ground.

“You did well, leave the rest of us.” He whispered. Your shot didn’t kill the boss, only managing to hit him in the thigh.

“Get her out of here.” Yoongi said to the maknae. He nodded, running out of the place with you in his arms.

With their boss down and most likely going to die, the other men just surrendered, putting their hands up. The 6 remaining Bangtan boys stood over the boss, who was writhing on the ground in pain.

“Tell your girl... The boy that was killed because of her... His name is also Jisung... Just like her dear nephew.” He still managed to force out a laugh.

“You want our money?” Jin gave the first kick.

“You want our empire?” Namjoon gave the second.

“You mess with our girl?” Jimin stepped on his thigh, pushing the bullet further into his flesh. He screamed out, straining.

“We’ll see you in hell.” Taehyung raised his metal bat, slamming it down. They just watched emotionlessly as Taehyung beat the man’s face in. He coughed, choking on his blood as he tried to crawl away.

“Where are you going?” Hoseok kicked him back. Imaging all the torture and abuse you went through fuelled their anger. The others killed the other men.

No one was to be spared.

“We have to go before the cops come.” Namjoon stopped Taehyung. Taehyung took a step back with a smirk, rubbing away the blood that managed to splatter on his cheek. Yoongi took the gun out that he had brought for good measure. He placed the barrel of the gun right over the man’s chest, clicking it back slowly. With a smile, he pulled the trigger.

“For good measure.” Jin shrugged with a smile and shot two more bullets.

“That’s enough. Let’s go. We have more important things to do.” Namjoon waved the gang over. Right now, they should prioritise your condition. Same as always, Yoongi grabbed a lighter, torching the place down.

“Don’t forget to send a gift to the governor to thank him for putting out all the fires.” Hoseok laughed. Namjoon hummed.

Ko-fi link

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lady-z-writes · 3 years

Text

Plaything

Heisenberg x fem!reader fic below the cut:

Summary: Reader works for BSAA and is scoping out the village until you get captured by none other than Heisenberg who doesn’t take well to trespassers. Once he learns of your hatred for your job, he wants the information you have and he doesn’t have to try hard to get it. You find yourself drinking, fireside, with him and can’t help but let him touch you. Angie said he’d needed a plaything and, well, you’re it.

TW: smut

Tears prickle in your eyes as you continue climbing the snow-covered hill. Your black boots crunching on the snow and the whistling of wind have been the only sounds in your ears for the last hour or so. Your teammates stumble behind you – silent – as you’re taught to be. You aren’t exactly sure what lies beyond these woods, but the feeling in your gut after talking to those villagers made you nauseous.

There’s a bridge just ahead and you glance over your shoulder at the two teammates before stepping foot on the brick. Your long black cloak whips around your knees as the wind picks up over the clearing. This armor was not made for winter weather.

It’s almost too late to pull out your gun when the three of you get knocked down by metal pieces whirling by. Your reaction time is good, taking cover just as one of your teammates gets sliced across the jugular. Bullets firing at something just beyond the bridge, you aim and fire as well at something you can only describe as a zombie. It takes the two of you to bring it down and once you do, you scurry to reload your assault rifle.

Now that things seem clear, your teammate stumbles to the body to inspect the damage. Fear still has its grips on you and you find it hard to speak, but you want to shout out to take cover. Did that thing bring those metal pieces? Were they alone?

You don’t have time for another thought before more metal objects shoot toward you both, making tears appear in your cloak. Something gets you across the cheek and you cry out as another object gets lodged in your thigh. Pulling it out, you toss it down and aim your rifle toward the bridge again.

Another one of those things has your teammate against the snow, ripping into him like a starved creature. As you turn back, your gun is torn from your hands by a sudden force. Metal comes flying passed you, hitting you upside the head and knocking you to the ground. You groan at the pain, but try to stand or shift away from your attacker.

A man in a hat and a long coat slowly approaches while wielding a large hammer. The metal seems to circle around him as he tosses away your gun.

“And what do we have here?”

“Please…stop…” you cough out, the cold air stinging your lungs from all your gasping.

This must be one of the Lords the villagers spoke of – Heisenberg, was it? Your team had been heading toward the factory. You didn’t have time to think of much more before he stands above you, inspecting you.

“Wrong place for a walk,” he hums. “Last of your kind?” he looks around at the two others lying dead in the snow. “Three of you? Hardly seems right.”

Tears stream down your face, anger at the BSAA for even making you come on this mission.

“I’ll tell you anything,” you gasp out. “Please. Please…” you’re blubbering and you know it, but the fear is real and burning in your chest. “I didn’t even want to do this.”

A clanging of metal beside you causes you to look back up at him. There’s a monster to his left that growls at you but he shoves it back.

“Is that so?” he squints at you from under his sunglasses. The moment lasts too long. You know he’s about to kill you too. “Alright then.”

A swipe of his hand and a gear kicks up to knock you upside the head and everything goes black.

•••

When you come-to, you’re being carried, slung over his shoulder like you’re weightless. You shift slightly, groaning.

“Quit moving, you’ll reopen your wounds. Don’t want you bleeding all over me.”

You can’t tell if you’re having a nightmare or if this is real but the snowy landscape is no longer hurting your eyes. Instead, you’re being carried through a dark threshold, brick and arches and high windows: a church.

Right when you’re getting used to the sway of things as he walks, you’re tossed down harshly onto cobblestone. Well, that’s a bruise. But you’re alive. For now.

There are a million questions on your lips but they all halt when you see the scene before you: a small doll-like creature prances in front of you, hopping over a few more of your dead teammates. The doll scurries over to a tall black figure with her face covered, passing by an oversized woman with a large hat and a sleek black cigarette holder in hand. The man from before flops down in a pew and leans back, ignoring the groaning from behind him as a hunchback monstrous creature lurks in the shadows. Standing before the windows is an almost angelic figure with a dark cloak and a headdress, looking poised and bored.

You cower away from the death around you, biting your tongue as your headache pounds. Ryan and Erin, two colleagues that went toward the flooded fishing village, are oozing blood and a pus-like green goo. You want to throw up, but you scoot backwards as far as possible, trying to keep your back to the wall.

More metal pieces come flying around you; scoot you back toward the group, shove you from behind until you’re standing on shaking, bleeding legs.

“This is all that’s left?” the voice comes from the angelic figure and you cautiously look beside you to note that there are, in fact, four survivors – mostly from the group who went to the castle.

“Yes, Mother. May I suggest you give them all to me? Our last batch of survivors went to Moreau and my daughters are quite…eager…for visitors.”

These must be the ones the villagers spoke of.

“Your appetite amazes me, oh supersized one,” the one with the hammer speaks up; Lord Heisenberg, you’re still assuming. “By all means, take the measly men. But this one comes with me.” He points at you. “I found her just outside of my factory. And I don’t take well to uninvited guests.”

“He wants a plaything,” the doll chants in a singsong voice.

“Shut the fuck up, Angie,” he snaps, losing his cool. “Look, enjoy your mandick; play chase around the castle – whatever. She was on my property.”

Your stomach flips at the look he shoots you. There’s a sinister smile but you find comfort in the fact that he didn’t kill you before. Maybe…-

“Done. Take your prizes and go,” the angelic one waves off.

When the tall one stands, your stomach drops as you look up at her. Long blades grow from her nails and she shoves them through the wrists of your colleagues, like skewers. As she passes, she bends toward you, cuts the top of your hand. You’re in shock when she presses her mouth to your wound, lapping up the blood.

“Move it along, you big-hatted, mouth-breathing bitch.”

“Heisenberg, you petulant child!” her claws come to swipe down at who is now confirmed as Heisenberg, but he raises his hammer above him to block.

“Be gone!” the angelic one shouts at them.

Heisenberg grabs your wrist and hauls you forward, onto a giant plate of metal. His powers link metal around your wrists like handcuffs before he knocks you unconscious again.

•••

Your body is throbbing by the time you wake. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, you glance around in the dim lighting. A bed is shoved in one corner, but the room is pretty bare. One wall is a large row of tool benches with metal scraps and tools strewn about. Heisenberg sits on a rolling stool, tinkering with something.

You exhale shakily, sitting up and noting the cuffs still in place – your fingers going numb.

“Ah, finally came-to, hm?” he spins to face you. “I was about to douse you with water.” He stands, towers over you, pulls you to your feet by the handcuffs. “Come, let’s talk.” He motions to the chair. You sit, shaky. “Heisenberg,” he tips his hat. “And you are…?”

“Y/n.”

“What are you, y/n?”

“I-I work for BSAA,” you glance over at the files on his desk, wondering how much he knows. He doesn’t stop you so you assume he’s at least privy to that. “My team was on a mission here to get information on this village…and, well, you.”

“Flattered,” he hums. “I’ll cut to the chase: there’s a reason you’re still alive. You have information. You could be useful…what did you mean when you said you didn’t want to do this?”

You gulp as he circles you. “I…was on a mission before and stumbled across some information that they want to keep quiet. I tried to quit, but they won’t let me leave.” You don’t know why you’re telling him all this. You wonder if maybe it’ll help you stay alive. Maybe he’s telling the truth.

“You said you’d tell me. Well, kitten, spill…” the powerful way he’s standing over you is intimidating but also slightly attractive and you’re kicking yourself for thinking that of your captor.

“BSAA is using bioweapons and plan to investigate the mold in this location to further advance the bioweapons program.”

He pauses. “That’s quite the mouthful.”

You laugh, despite the situation. “It’s quite the burden.” He tilts his head slightly.

“Do you know of Mother Miranda?”

You shake your head. “Just what the villagers told me. They seem…devout.” You search for the right word.

Heisenberg rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ mindless idiots is what they are…”

After a pause, you finally find the guts to say, “I gave you information…will you uncuff me?” you add a, “please” for good measure.

“You’re not thinking of attacking me, are you?”

“And risk a gear to the throat? No, thanks.”

This elicits a laugh from him. He snaps the cuffs right off.

“I like you.”

Rubbing your wrists, you glance up at him while he glares down at you.

“Back there, at the church…thank you for taking me back here. Sounds like I would have been a meal if I would have gone with my colleagues.”

He huffs. “She’d eat you up.” The comment is dripping with innuendo and the cheeky smirk he shoots you makes your stomach flip. There’s something alluring about this guy. Maybe you hit your head too many times today. “But you’re welcome.” The moment hangs in the air and he’s clearly uncomfortable with it so he saunters off out of the room. “You drink?” he calls.

“Poison, no. Alcohol? I could.” He clearly likes the quips because another laugh comes from him.

“All I got’s whiskey,” he returns with a chipped-up coffee mug and a liquor bottle. You hold the mug as he pours and you can’t help but shake – from fear or cold…

He notices. “Got you all cut up,” he finally acknowledges the tattered clothing, the dried blood on your wounds. “Let’s get you warmed up.”

Your mind goes tons of places, but never did you imagine him leading you through dark rooms to reach an outdoor balcony where an almost makeshift firepit sits. You’re guided to a bench and he hands you the liquor bottle so he can get the fire started.

The stars out here are stunning; it’s unlike anything you’ve seen. The cool breeze chills you through, making you hold your torn cloak tighter. When the fire lights and the whoosh of warmth meets your face, you almost moan.

Out here, in the silence, under the stars – you could sleep…

“She took me,” Heisenberg startles you from your mental break. You hand over the whiskey as he approaches. “Mother Miranda isn’t really my mother.” He takes off his sunglasses, rubs the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

You sit quietly and listen to his tale of woe; moved by how troubling it is. By the time you’re halfway through your coffee mug of whiskey, he’s pouring you some more.

“Do you remember your family? Your real family?”

“I do…I do have memories,” he nods. “Everything else was destroyed – except this factory.”

“Did Miranda have something to do with that?”

He blinks at you, keeps drinking from the bottle. You know your answer.

You’re getting the tingling feeling in your fingers and the heat from the fire has made you remove your cloak; leaving you in just your fitted top and ripped pants. Heisenberg’s eyes trail over your skin, his tongue glides across his lower lip momentarily.

“Why did you really bring me here?” you find yourself asking, leaning closer to him.

“If you’re cold, I can take you inside…” he ignores you, but you keep up your intense stare.

“Were they right? Did you want a plaything?” maybe it’s the drink but you feel emboldened to overstep.

His mouth opens then shuts and then he’s grinding his teeth.

“You have no idea…” the growl that leaves his throat sends chills through you.

He practically spills the whiskey with how quickly he lunges at you, mouth connecting with yours in a heated kiss. When you’d first met, you’d assumed his advances would kill you. Now, you’re thinking something else completely.

Your hands grip at his jacket, pull him closer until he’s seated beside you and then you’re in his lap. He tastes like whiskey and smoke. He’s tense beneath you, almost holding his breath.

His hands rip at your clothes and before you know it, you’re topless in his lap. His eyes hungrily take you in before you feel his facial hair against your soft skin as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth. His fingers massage the other nipple and you feel teeth gently on you.

He’s hard already and you shamelessly grind against him, hoping to relieve some of the pressure you’re feeling as well. The air feels colder when his mouth pops off you.

“I needed a distraction,” you hum as his lips trail to your neck.

“Pants off. Now,” he mutters.

“You just like to bend ‘em right over, huh?” you laugh. “Okay, Jesus…” but his hands are already fumbling with your snap and zip until he gets frustrated and just rips them off. The need he has is alluring.

He picks you up, turns, slams you down, and gets on his knees before you. You’re stripped completely naked for him, clothes discarded and forgotten as he hums at the sight of you on this cold night. The fire and the feeling of his hands on you keeps you warm enough.

“Pretty,” he moans. “So fuckin’ pretty…”

In the flickering firelight, you catch the tent of his pants. His hands spread your legs then he shifts your knees over his shoulders as he leans between your thighs. Open-mouthed kisses leave you moaning, covering your mouth.

“No,” he mutters. “Let me hear you.”

It’s only when you’ve proven that you will make noise that he lets his mouth trail to your pussy. A flat tongue glides over your folds and you moan loudly, head thrown back as he flicks your clit with a pointed tongue. He’s lapping at you and eating you out like a man starved.

“Ungh…Heisenberg,” you begin to whisper.

“-Karl,” he corrects before he inserts a finger into your dripping pussy.

You’re practically screaming his name when he finds your g-spot that quickly. The pace he’s finger-fucking you at mixed with the potentially public location and the talented tongue, you’re on the edge of something spectacular.

“M’close,” you whisper out, feet digging into his back.

Karl moans. “Come for me, y/n. And then I want you to come on my cock.”

Those words send you barreling toward your orgasm. Your fingers grip his hair as you grind toward his face.

“Ah, fuck…” you cry out.

“Good girl,” he coos, suckling a mark on your inner thigh. You’re ushering him up, yanking at his coat, pulling him into you. Your lips meet as you fumble with his belt and his pants. He helps you, both of your breathing erratic. “So eager,” he chuckles between kisses.

“Want to feel you,” you hum. “Please, Karl?”

“Mmmm, I like you begging.” His pants fall and he lays you down on the bench. “Be a good girl and take my cock.”

He trails the tip along your wetness, teasing you, before he sheaths himself inside. Your back arches off the bench and you let out a whine from the way he’s stretching you.

“Fuck, so big…” you moan, reaching to pull him down.

He shifts your left leg over his shoulder and pounds into you the best he can on this bench. It’s harsh and the bench is digging into your back in an uncomfortable way, but you’re enjoying this.

You’re meeting him thrust-for-thrust, hands tracing over his torso.

“Get undressed.”

He grunts, “Too cold.” You smack him on the arm and the way he glares at you… “You little brat,” he growls. “Do you want to get off again or should I stop holding back?” You shake your head. “Then get off.”

You nod against his chest as he shifts a hand to play with your clit. The pressure and new angle he’s hitting you at, you can’t help but cuss and grip at him. The feel of him bottoming out, of how surprising this pleasure was…you hadn’t expected this when you met him on that bridge. You’re rutting against him, pulling him down harsher until he pounds into you with such intensity.

There’s an echo of a scream that reverberates around you – it’s yours. The fire crackling is your only response until Karl chuckles against your neck.

You can feel your muscles tensing around his thick cock; an orgasm nearing once more. You’re kissing his neck and praising him; caught up in this moment under the stars. The consistent pressure against your g-spot; one more thrust and you’re a goner – moaning against his chest and kissing and biting – gone mad with the pleasure.

“Oh, fuck…” he’s sloppy suddenly, bottoming out and hitting the same spot repeatedly until you feel him rutting harsher, spilling inside of you.

Your gasping sounds louder than the roaring fire and the two of you lay there uncomfortably; Karl not resting his whole weight on you, his forehead pressed against your chest as he huffs out.

The chill in the air stings against your completely naked body, worse now with the sweat.

“That was…unexpected,” you laugh.

“Maybe for you,” he shrugs.

You shiver as he gets off you. He removes his jacket to give it to you and you eagerly shove your arms in it, thankful for the warmth from his body heat.

“Can we go inside?” you shiver.

He meets your gaze. “Don’t think I’m finished with you.”

“Oh?” you tease. “I need some rest. This jackass attacked me earlier…”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me regret stopping that oversized bitch from taking you.”

“You said you needed a plaything…” you hum. “How long did you plan to keep me?”

Karl groans. “Get inside so you can ride my cock and then I’ll make my decision.”

You smirk at him, quite enjoying this newfound thing.

“Bring the whiskey.”

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader

322 notes · View notes

archived-kin · 3 years

Text

petty ghost haunts their murderer but doesn’t actually do anything vengeful, more at eleven

note from kin: i don’t even know what this is myself to be honest but the simple way of putting it is that you were accidentally killed by one of satan’s fits of rage and now your ghost follows him around and messes with him at any given opportunity out of pettiness

basically i came up with the prompt ‘vengeful spirit is more of a slightly miffed and extremely petty spirit who doesn’t actually do much but inconvenience their hauntee, shenanigans ensue’ and ran with it

(as a heads up, reader is not mc in this situation, and this takes place before any of the exchange program stuff, so belphie’s not in the attic and solomon and the angels aren’t in the devildom)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): gn!reader, satan, beelzebub

pairing(s): satan/reader (though it isn’t particularly romantic since you’re, y’know, dead, so it’s more of a satan & reader)

warning(s): references to death, beel eats an entire rotisserie chicken

genre: crack (with a bit of fluff i guess???)

“For the last time, [Name], put the knife down.”

“Bite me, bitch-boy.”

Satan lets out a long-suffering sigh and sets down his mug of coffee, then reaches out and carefully pushes the floating butter knife pointed directly at his jugular back down onto the table. “I don’t know why you keep trying that. You do know it wouldn’t actually get through my skin even if you did manage to hit me, right?”

“It’s the thought that counts,” comes your disembodied voice from somewhere near the ceiling. You’ve probably decided to float up there to sulk like you always do after a failed attack.

“I’d prefer you didn’t think about it at all.”

A still-wet towel pulls itself from the rack on the wall and hits him square in the face. Satan gives an exasperated groan as it slides down his face and lands on the table with a soft splat.

“That’s what you get,” You sniff indignantly, finally materialising in front of him with a scowl. You’re floating upside down in a way that makes it look like you’re standing on the ceiling. “Buttface.”

“Come on, you can come up with better material than that,” Satan shakes his head, pushing back his chair and picking up the wet towel you’ve just flung at him to hang it back up again. “Where did all your creativity from yesterday go?”

“Six feet under with the remains of my body, probably,” you reply with a scowl. Then, as an afterthought, you add, “Confounded cheese wheel.”

“Oh, that’s a new one,” He comments, mildly surprised. “Where’d you pick that up?”

“Made it up myself. Ha!” You bob past him and through the wall, most likely to go terrorise Mammon by making his lights flicker on and off again. “Guess my creativity isn’t as dead as I am after all.”

“You still haven’t gotten over that, I see.” He sighs.

Your head immediately pops back out of the wall and glares across the room at him. “Excuse me?”

“It’s been weeks now - months, even,” Satan explains carefully as he sits back down at the table, not wanting to aggravate you further. The last time he'd brought something like this up, he’d ended up making you so angry that you’d managed to become physically corporeal enough to fling him across the room. “I would have thought you’d have passed on by now, that’s all. Surely it doesn’t take this long for the gates to the Celestial Realm to open?”

You consider his words, apparently appeased by their logic. “...I guess. Maybe I’m not passing on because I can’t rest in peace yet, like the ghosts do in horror films.”

“They’re films, you can’t expect to apply what happens in them to reality,” Satan replies flatly. “Besides, even if that was the situation, you've met all the criteria to 'rest in peace’, haven't you?”

“Are you trying to tell me, the dead one here, what merits as ‘resting in peace’?” You counter, floating back through the wall so that your entire body is in the room again. “My murderer’s still walking about like he doesn’t dress in the entire green colour spectrum and think it’s a good idea. How am I supposed to rest in peace knowing that?”

Satan looks down at his outfit, a little offended. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“What’s right with your clothes?” You shoot back, drifting over to him and passing a ghostly hand through his shoulder, apparently too lazy to muster up the energy to make your hand physical enough to touch him. “Look at it! Your blazer doesn’t even have lapels!”

“It isn’t a blazer.”

“Jacket, then.” You make a move as if to pinch at the fabric, but your fingers just pass right through it like a hot knife through butter. “It doesn’t even fit you. The sleeves are too short.”

Satan resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to wear it if it didn’t fit me. Besides, why does it matter to you?”

“The demon I might be doomed to be attached to for the rest of my afterlife has the worst fashion sense in all three realms is the matter,” You sigh dramatically and float up to the ceiling again. “Why do you even wear rip-off jeans if you’re going to put a belt over it?”

“First of all, they aren’t rip-off jeans,” Satan tells you as you start idly making the kitchen light flicker. He should probably tell you to stop doing that whenever you get bored, but he’s gotten so used to it at this point that he can’t really be bothered to. “And, second of all, why does it matter if I’m wearing a belt on it?”

“Rip-off jeans are meant to be ripped off,” You explain with all the patience of a mother explaining something to a curious child, completely disregarding Satan’s first point. “Putting a belt on top of it kind makes that redundant.”

Satan thinks about it for a moment and begrudgingly comes to the conclusion that your statement is correct - not that it makes a difference to him. “...they’re still not rip-off jeans.”

“Think whatever you want to think, burro verde.”

“What?”

“It means green donkey in Spanish.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I took Spanish for, like, three years when I was in high school,” You shrug, and the light brightens and dims slightly with the movement of your shoulders, as if it’s shrugging with you. “Failed all the exams, but at least I got something worthwhile out of it.”

“Three years of linguistic lessons and all you learn is how to string together bizarre insults,” Satan shakes his head. “You really are incorrigible.”

“That’s a big word. You sure you know what it means?”

“Of course I do,” He gives you a slightly disgruntled look. “I wouldn’t use it if I didn’t. What do you take me for?”

“Someone who doesn’t know what incorrigible means, obviously.” You pretend to aim a kick at the spider perched quietly in the corner of the ceiling, but Timothy ignores your efforts to boot him from his web. After a moment, growing tired of bothering the little guy, you ask, “...what does it mean?”

Satan snickers, then answers, sounding as if he’s reading the definition directly out of a dictionary, “In reference to a person or their behaviour, unable to be changed or reformed.”

You contemplate his words for a few seconds. “Is that a good thing?”

“Not usually when that particular word is used for it, no.”

“Oh. Bitch.”

He pauses at that, moving his mug of now marginally cooler coffee away from his mouth again, having been in the middle of taking another sip when you decided to insult him again. “Where did that come from?”

“You called me incorrigible, which you just said is not a good thing to be,” You explain as if it’s obvious, frowning down at him. “So I’m taking it as an insult and insulting you back. Bitch.”

“You didn’t have to say it again.”

“I didn’t, but it’s fun to call you names.” You snort and glide down from the ceiling to float above the table, crossing your legs and pretending to sit down on it. “It’s not as fun as it used to be, though. You never get all puffed up about it anymore.”

“That’s your own fault for doing it so much that I got used to it,” Satan reproaches. “Besides, it was pointless getting angry. It’s not like I can do anything to you in return.”

“You could ignore me and pretend I don’t exist or something.”

“Is that what you want me to do?”

“No!” You hurriedly throw up your hands in a gesture of surrender and shake your head so hard that Satan swears he actually feels a breeze - an even more impressive achievement considering that your body isn’t even tangible. “Please don’t. You’re the only being in the entire universe that I can actually interact with.”

“Sometimes I wonder if that is a good thing,” Satan mutters.

“It’s a good thing for me, and that’s all that matters,” You reply, unfazed.

No one other than Satan appears to have the ability to see you, which is an odd thing in and of itself. Ghosts aren’t a foreign thing to the Devildom - they’re so common that you could probably just walk into a convenience store and find one shelving cans of soup - but you don’t seem to follow any of the rules that they do. Sometimes Satan wonders if you’re able to actively choose to not allow his brothers to see you as you drift around the house, but then again, he’s pretty sure that, if you had the option to make Lucifer watch you pretend to fist fight that weird skeleton hanging in his room, you definitely would.

Satan doesn’t pretend to understand the laws of your otherworldly existence - he’s read so many variations on the rules behind lingering spirits like you that he can scarcely tell the difference between pure fiction and actual logical hypothesis. It’s easy enough to wrangle you into behaving for a day so that he can observe you properly by promising to leave his radio on for you while he’s out, but the observations themselves never seem to lead to anything. He knows that you’re able to pass through any physical object (as far as he knows), can make lights (of both the electronic and candle variety) flicker at will, can muster up enough physicality to move and touch things if you try, and can phase in and out of perceivable view, but he doesn’t know why you can do any of those things.

“Quit trying to come up with explanations for everything,” You’d told him wisely a month or so ago, when you’d floated in on him muttering to himself about the possibility of something called ‘ether energy’. “You’re just gonna give yourself a headache.”

Then you’d started making his candles flicker like disco lights until he stopped.

“...but I don’t think he spotted me, since he probably would’ve commented on the floating meat cleaver if he did, and— hey, big guy!”

That last exclamation is aimed at Beel, who has just walked into the kitchen and is now rummaging unceremoniously through the fridge, most likely in search of something to eat. At this point Satan’s pretty sure that you still don’t know any of his brothers’ names - at the very least, even if you do, you’ve never called them by them.

Beel continues to sort through the various already empty boxes and containers in the fridge as you start zooming back and forth through him, marvelling over the sheer broadness of his chest and shoulders. It isn’t the first time you’ve done this to him - or indeed any of the brothers - but Satan can tell that it’s more innocent awe than any kind of objectification or intent to harm, so he doesn’t mind. As mischievous as you are, he’s pretty sure you don’t have a genuinely malicious or wanton bone in your body... well, you don’t have any bones anymore - or a body, for that matter - but the point still stands.

“Hungry?” He guesses, but it’s honestly more of a statement. It is Beel, after all.

The Avatar of Gluttony withdraws from his search briefly to offer a nod. “I didn’t get to finish all of my lunch.”

“Well, there’s a surprise,” You comment as Beel sticks his head back into the fridge, finally tiring of buffeting yourself back and forth like a pendulum and choosing to start hovering just over the second youngest’s shoulders to watch his hunt. “Wonder what he was up to that got him to stop eating.”

Satan opens his mouth to reply, then stops and closes it again. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Beel with the not-really-a-secret of your existence, but he’s sure that at some point or another, Beel will end up letting it slip to Lucifer, who would most likely want to know why your death ended up attaching your spirit to his brother, and Satan’s already gone to great lengths to make sure that the oldest won’t find out about the rampage he went on that cost you your life in the first place. It'd just be a waste of that effort for Lucifer to find out anyway. Besides, it isn’t like the information will make much difference to Beel - he can’t see or hear you, and you’re pretty harmless, so there wouldn’t be any need for him to get involved in the situation anyway.

You, meanwhile, are well aware that Satan isn’t going to be saying anything to you while one of his brothers is in the room - you don’t really understand his reasoning for it, since you like to think that you’re a pleasure of a ghost to know, but you suppose you can’t really force him to make any decisions. Besides, you’re pretty content with the way things are right now; you don’t want to complicate the situation by bringing in another demon who, as far as you know, might just smite you on the spot if they find out about your existence.

Instead, you busy yourself with watching in fascination as Beel somehow pulls what looks like a rotisserie chicken from the very back of the fridge and shove the whole thing in this mouth. You exchange slightly disturbed looks with Satan as he begins to chew - you’re pretty sure you’ve just seen him dislocate his jaw like a snake to fit it in there.

“You might want to calm down, Beel,” Satan advises after a brief moment’s stunned silence, though even he knows that it’s a fruitless warning. “You’ll end up choking.”

Beel nods, but makes absolutely no move to slow in his aggressive chewing.

“This must be what the peak of evolution looks like,” You say in bemused awe as Beel finishes eating. The entire chicken has disappeared down his throat - bones and all. “How the hell does he manage that?”

Satan doesn’t answer, but his subtle shrug says that your guess is as good as his.

Much to your surprise and Satan’s resignation, Beel immediately goes back to the fridge, apparently unsatisfied by the copious amount of fowl he’s just eaten. To be honest, you feel sorry for the guy - while the you from when you’d still been able to eat would have done some unspeakable things to be able to consume as much as he does and still remain that fit, you’re sure that the black hole he calls a stomach must be an awful thing to have to deal with. At least he gets to enjoy a lot of food because of it, though you suppose it’s a double-edged sword if he’s also constantly being scolded for it. Personally, you don’t understand the reasoning behind telling someone off for eating as much food as they need, but they are demons. You probably shouldn’t expect them to have that level of compassion.

By the time you break out of your train of thought, Beel has found something else to eat amidst the many empty boxes in the fridge. It’s much smaller than the rotisserie chicken - some kind of pastry with a dollop of snowy white cream on top, decorated with a few lines of melted chocolate to look like a cat’s face. In fact, it looks almost identical to…

“Hey, wait!” You swipe a useless hand through Beel’s arm as he raises the pastry to his mouth. “Don’t eat that—!”

Too late. The pastry disappears into Beel’s mouth, and you drift backwards again, letting out a defeated groan. Satan shoots you a curious look - you can’t eat, after all, so why are you so upset about Beel eating that pastry? Is there something special about it?

His question is answered when he actually turns to look at his younger brother. The Avatar of Gluttony has gone rigid on the spot and is blinking rapidly, his eyes the size of moons.

“Beel…?” Satan questions hesitantly. “Are you feeling alright?”

Beel takes a long moment to respond, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Satan takes a closer look and realises that Beel’s pupils seem to have dilated to an almost impossible degree, resembling a cat’s eyes when it’s about to go absolutely feral. Whatever it is was in that pastry, it’s definitely hit him hard.

Now, Satan isn’t one to interrupt good fun when it’s about to happen, so instead of stepping in and performing some sort of spell that might help on his possibly-high brother like a good guy, he sits back and watches as Beel’s head swings around the room as if he's never seen anything in it before like the mischief-loving little shit he is. Beel himself doesn’t appear to be negatively affected, so it can’t be that bad, right?

You float cautiously around the giant as his hands ball into fists. His entire body is trembling slightly with pent-up energy. Then, a split second later, as if he’s been zapped by some catalystic bolt of lightning, he abruptly snaps back on his heel and positively zooms out of the room. You can practically see the cartoony cloud of dust that he’s kicking up as he disappears down the corridor.

“He’s absolutely zooted right now,” You comment, flipping upside with a resigned sigh and crossing your arms a little grumpily. “I told him not to eat it.”

“He couldn’t hear you, you know,” Satan says, moving over to the fridge and slamming it shut, since Beel has neglected to. “What was even in that thing?”

You shrug. “Don’t know. I’ve just been calling it demon-nip.”

“I suppose that it does to demons what catnip does to cats, then?” Satan doesn’t even wait for you to answer before continuing - rude. “How did you even get a hold of it? Never mind that, how did you manage to get it in a pastry and put it in the fridge?”

“I got some help from one of the poltergeists downtown to make it,” You wave your hands about dismissively. “You should pay more attention when you go out. I disappeared for, like, five hours, and you didn’t even notice.”

“When even was this?”

“Tuesday, I think. Remember when you bought that giant bag of cat paw-shaped biscuits and then accidentally dropped the bag in the hall and got them everywhere?”

You don’t miss the way that the tips of his ears go slightly pink as he coughs subtly and averts his gaze. “...why would the poltergeists help you? They hate humans.”

“I don’t know, actually…” You ponder for a moment, then decide, “...probably because I’m cute.”

“Are you?” Satan deadpans. “Cute is what you’d call a cat. You’re just… tolerable.”

“Oh, fuck you, I think I’m adorable.” You huff, flying over and poking him hard in the side of the head. Satan hisses in pain and reaches up to rub the sore spot, but he supposes he should have seen that blow coming - you’re never too humble to make yourself physical enough to hit him after an insult.

“Where did that idea even come from?” He asks quickly, not wanting to take another attack. You may be a mere imprint of a dead human, but your fingers are sharp, and he’d prefer not to provoke you further if he can avoid it.

His change of subject is so abrupt and obvious that it’s almost laughable, but you choose not to call him out on it. As much as you’d like to set him on fire or something, he hasn’t given you a really good reason to commit arson yet, and you’d just end up feeling bad for doing it. Well, to be fair, he did kill you… but still, you don’t want to keep holding that over his head.

“I read it in a book.” You answer. Satan’s eyes light up slightly.

“Do you remember the title?” He asks almost eagerly, and you disguise a snicker. His intentions are practically painted in bright red paint across his face - he’s hoping that there’ll be more schemes like the one you’ve performed that he can use against that sadist of an older brother of his.

Unfortunately for him, the book doesn’t exist. “Yeah. It’s called One Hundred Ways To Get Back At The Ass That Killed You, Free Of Murder and Actual Crimes That Might Get You Persecuted And Sent To Super Hell.”

Satan clearly isn’t thinking very hard today, because for a moment he actually looks as if he believes you - you suppose it’s because he’s grown desensitised to the oddness of such long titles after hearing so many weirdly specific anime titles from the otaku brother that you still have yet to see come out of his room. (You’ve floated in a few times to have a look around and appreciate the decor, but other than that, you’ve barely even seen his face. You’re not even sure what his name is, to be honest…)

He realises what you’re getting at after a moment, though, and immediately frowns at you in disapproval. You just grin, pleased with your small victory.

“You're insufferable,” He says, shaking his head with an long sigh.

“No, I'm cute,” You counter, frowning. “Weren't you listening to me earlier?”

He throws his hands up hastily as you drift forward with a hand brandished and a nasty glint in your eye, unwilling to get jabbed at again. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

You, however, don't relent. Eyes narrowing, you float even closer - so close that, if you'd been physical, he’d have been able to feel your breath on his face. “Say it.”

Satan may be one of the seven most powerful demons in the Devildom (below Diavolo, of course, and possibly Barbatos), but the aggression of a pissed-off ghost, especially if that ghost is you, isn't anything he wants to be on the receiving end of right now. “Fine, fine! You're adorable, you're cute, whatever. Now will you leave me alone?”

You finally pull back, beaming in a gratified fashion. “That's all I wanted to hear!”

Satan gives you an irritated look as you drift back across the kitchen, a satisfied grin on your face. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’ve said that already,” You sing back, laughing in victory when you see his eyebrow twitch slightly in annoyance. “And you had the nerve to lecture me about creativity earlier! Why don’t you come up with better material, Mr Shoes-Up-My-Ass?”

He doesn’t reply for a good moment, attempting to think of a insult to counter your admittedly slightly juvenile one. Try as he might, though, all of his good jibes seem to have evaporated. “...shut up.”

His pathetic response, of course, immediately compels you to take the piss out of him. Clutching your chest dramatically, as if Satan’s just stabbed you with the knife you’d been waving about earlier, you wail, “Oh, thy words do wound me! 'Tis like thou hath rip’d my heart out with thy own hands!”

Satan glares you for a long moment, but he doesn’t have the heart to keep it up when you’re grinning so brightly. Honestly, you’re a nuisance and a brat sometimes, sure, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t consider you his closest friend at this point. “...do you even know how to use those words?”

You drop the act faster than Asmo throws it down on a Saturday night, shrugging and floating back over to hover just above the chair across from Satan’s. “Nope. It sounded right, though, right?”

“I haven’t read enough works in Old English to know,” Satan admits with a shake of his head. “But it did, I suppose…”

It’s kind of weird that he’s agreeing so easily, you think. Has he just had enough of your bullshit and is complying with to keep you quiet? Or has he just finally seen the light of your brilliance?

...well, you suppose it doesn’t matter. You grin and move to ruffle his hair, but forget to make your hand physical and instead end up flying right through his head. Satan shudders slightly - though he doesn’t feel it, it’s still weird to have an entire hand and arm go through his cranium.

“Could you not?” He complains as you right yourself and pull your hand back again. “This feels weird.”

“Baby.”

“Pet names aren’t going to do anything,” He sighs, pulling his chair to the side so that he’s no longer half-inside your torso. “Hands to yourself.”

“No, it was an insult,” You correct him. “I was calling you a baby. Though bitch-boy works too.”

Satan lets out a long sigh. Now you’re just back where you started.

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me imagines #satan x reader #except it's more of a satan & reader #crack #ghosts #swd satan #swd beelzebub #I've taken a look through my obey me drafts and noticed a pattern #if i'm writing about one of the brothers beel always seems to show up as a cameo #now that i think about it this prompt has some real angst potential...#unfortunately i seem to incapable of writing anything but fluf and funny in these trying times #anyway i hope you enjoyed this!!#the ending is super abrupt but i've already spent too long on this thing so just TAKE IT

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postmodernmulticoloredcloak · 3 years

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And now I’ve watched episode 3 of Walker because of reasons. (You guys asked, that’s reasons.) #1

My review of episode 1 got a lot of positive feedback and a lot of you asked me to cover more episodes! But my review of episode 2 didn’t get much feedback at all. Possibly because episode 2 was boring and you can only make so many funny jokes about the glowy wife before it gets stale, so I get it, it’s fine. It was boring for me too. Hopefully this gets funnier! I actually have high expectations for this episode, since apparently it introduces NotDean. You know, the childhood friend who Walker loves like a brother and is the Han Solo to Walker’s Luke Skywalker. Like, what. Stop comparing Jared Padalecki characters to Like Skywalker 2021 challenge. *insert you keep using that word...*

Anyway, in case you missed it - here are all my reviews of Walker episodes, in chronological order.

EDIT: *screeching* GUYS YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS IN THIS. YOU CANNOT IMAGINE WHAT HAPPENS IN THIS. Read to the end, don’t stop at the padalacting. I’m begging you asdfghjkl

Alright. Let’s start this. Actually I have a thought before we start. You know, I was thinking that episode 3 of Supernatural is when Dean gets genuinely introduced as a person. Sera Gamble and Raelle Tucker were the first to give Dean the personality that stuck and developed into the character that we love. Dead In The Water is, not coincidetally, the episode that sold Supernatural to me. The first couple of episodes were weirdly compelling, without which I wouldn’t have continued watching, but you must understand that I’d never watched horror before. It really wasn’t my genre. I was just watching on the assumption that it would get better at some point, and if it didn’t I’d stop. But Dead In The Water got me. Because that’s when we’re really shown Dean for the first time. The rest is history and now we’re here.

So I wonder what will happen in episode 3 of Walker. Is it going to magically pull a Dean out of the hat and get me?

Let’s start. The Texan countryside. The yellow, glowy light tells us this is a flashback. Closeups of Jared and Gen. He is somewhat concerned. He’s at the wheel of a car, still on the street - a red Mustang. Unlike the red Mustang of the horseman War, it is a convertible. Fun fact: a Mustang was Kripke’s original idea for the Winchesters’ car, but then switched to the Impala for body-in-the-trunk reasons. I am the 😬 emoji.

Actually guys I need to show you a couple Jared faces. I think they’re supposed to be purposely comedic faces, but honestly this is just how he acts normally. I promise I am not coming in this with a bias towards Jared’s acting. I just observe, with my eyes. He was actually good in many Supernatural episodes.

I just can’t see Cordell Walker. I’m just seeing Jared and Gen Padalecki delivering what is a somewhat padalecki acting in front of my eyes and I swear I had to close the video in the middle of this scene and start over because of a sudden attack of second-hand embarrassment.

Let’s continue

Basically, Walker is trying to drive the Mustang, but he is not good at it and the car stops after two meters. He feels exactly how I feel when I watch Walker.

“Damn it!” Jared exclaims, jaredly. I think that this scene is supposed to be set Many Years Ago, because Walker is wearing a backwards cap and Emily has her hair styled like Bad Janet but straighter, which actually says a lot about this show somehow.

God, I wish I could gif the entire scene to show you guys the padalacting. I mean, I could, but ain’t nobody got time for that. Have a bit of the scene.

For some reason she puts this thing on the dashboard, because he “puts your mind at ease”.

He makes more Jared faces, which we’ll skip because I don’t want to spend 7 hours on this.

Wait look at this shot of the car (with some bonus Jared face).

Why does this look filmed by your dad with a videocamera on Christmas afternoon after you received a toy car as a present? I suddenly have a newfound admiration for the directors who did Impala shots on Supernatural because it would seem car shots are not that easy to make. Maybe this is why Supernatural always filmed at night with a black car.

Guys I am telling you, if you need to watch one scene of Walker in your life, watch this scene. It’s so embarrassing. I almost decided to gif the moment of the car going and commenting “nyoom” but the Impala does not deserve this.

Anyway.

Listen, if I have to see thing thing over and over, you have to see it too.

He’s brought the damn thing onto a new cop truck while on a stakeout with Ramirez, who is just as happy about it as any normal person would.

I think they’re outside a strip club, judging from the posters outside.

He keeps quoting lines from the scene with his wife, which is sort of weird since Ramirez is not his love interest. Yet. Oh no. Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t even thinking of doing that. Ramirez has a perfectly fine boyfriend.

Walker says that since they’re sitting there just waiting for the suspect’s movements or whatever, they should use that time to get to know each other, like “favorite movies, the teams you root for, middle names”.

Ramirez is me.

He’s like ~let’s bond~ and Ramirez goes immediately for the jugular and asks how Stella (his daughter) is doing. “Wow” he says. He says he and Stella are “in a good place, I think”. You’re not and we’re definitely not. This is the bad place.

Basically, they’re trying to live in a bubble of ignoring her upcoming court date for the marijuana thing. Ramirez says that the easy route is not a good idea. He’s like, are you speaking from experience? Basically they keep implying Ramirez also has a ~bad girl past, which I can absolutely live without.

Aaand now we see the inside of the strip club. The suspect is there, a lady with a Latinoamerican name, apparently bisexual because she’s surrounded by a woman and a man in underwear, the woman is touching her, it leaves no doubt about it. 😬 Enter the stripper on stage, who captures the lady’s attention.

The stripper is a man. Dressed as a slutty cowboy. There’s glitter.

Yeah, you read it right.

Oh no. No I absolutely change my mind. If you have to watch one scene of Walter, it must be the slutty glitter cowboy stripper.

There’s. There’s a. There’s a slutty glitter cowboy stripper.

The CW could do slutty glitter cowboy strippers and Dean Winchester is not there?!

I repeat, they killed Dean Winchester and then did slutty glitter cowboy strippers in Walker?!

This is a travesty. This is an outrage.

Crime. Pure crime.

Listen, I’m not optimizing these gifs, take these super quick gifs, I can’t possibly spend my night optimizing glitter cowboy stripper gifs. But you need to see.

What’s the target demographic of this show? Texan housewives? The gays? Are they trying to test all the waters and see what happens? Is Walker going to become about gay people and Jared’s character a secondary character in his own show?

Wait

*sweats* Are they really trying to replicate Supernatural in everything after all?

The bisexual lighting is there and all.

The guy in skimpy underwear is distracting. I can’t believe yesterday I saw a Jared interview where he said he couldn’t watch Supernatural with his kids because of all the violence but Walker is a show you can watch with kids. I mean, aside from this scene, Walker is definitely more kid-friendly than Supernatural for obvious reasons. But hey, since Supernatural already was non-kid-friendly, they could have at least put more dudes in skimpy underwear.

You know what, I think they’re just aiming for Texan housewives.

“You’re hotter than Austin asphalt” suspect lady tells the stripper. You know. Something normal people say.

(If Texan people actually speak like this, do NOT tell me.)

Guys, we’re only four minutes in. It’s midnight. I will continue tomorrow...

*screams into the void* These have been the four wildest minutes of my life.

#marghe watches walker for some darned reason #cw's jared: legit texan

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

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Kinktober - Day Thirty

Prompt: Handcuffs

Pairing: Hawks/Reader (Boku No Hero Academia)

TW: Non-Consensual Touching, Groping, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Themes of Imprisonment, and Implied Kidnapping.

“Gotta say, I never thought I’d meet a bad guy so pretty.”

You could feel his hands on your waist, gloved fingers brushing over skin-tight spandex and forming a trail from the curves of your shoulders to your lower back, where Hawks choose to linger, now. On either side, his wings caged you in, accommodating for his lack of height by making him seem bigger and, more importantly, making you seem smaller, but that wasn’t your main concern. Since the day you were born, heroes had treated you like something insignificant, something lesser. You hadn’t expected Hawks to be any different after he found you, left to serve as a distraction by the gang you thought you could trust. You knew he wouldn’t be any better. You were alright with that. You’d come to terms with it.

You just wished he’d stop talking, while he flaunted his superiority.

Another squeeze, this one to the side of your thigh. A search, he’d explained, he was searching you, but beyond forcing you to face the unpainted brick wall, it was a half-hearted effort. You were a sacrificial lamb, something meant to be captured, the metallic cuffs around your wrists were proof of that - cutting into your forearms, dangling your quirk just out of reach as he held the chain, keeping your hands pinned to the base of your spine with little more than the slightest bit of pressure and the suggestion of his weight. You weren’t sure why he bothered with the professional pretense. You get-up was form-fitting, sheer, leaving little to the imagination and even less effectively obscured. He’d noticed, and he hadn’t bothered pretending he hadn’t. Hell, he’d been eyeing you up like a piece for meat since the moment he discovered you, abandoned and restrained and just waiting to be rescued by a big, strong hero.

It was the worst when he spoke. It was the most obvious, when he spoke. “Agency’s been givin’ me the difficult ones, lately - real scum of the earth types, y’know? Not that I mind, I know it’s my job to keep trash like that, like you off the street, but…” He trailed off, his voice fading into a laugh. Slowly, you felt him lean against you, red feathers ruffling as his chest pressed against you back, his hands trailing back to your hips. You went stiff, but if Hawks noticed, he didn’t care. Not enough to stop, at least. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. There isn’t a man on the force who wouldn’t be thankful for the view, after a long day.”

You couldn’t use your quirk, couldn’t fight back in any way that mattered, but you could reel back, drive the heel of your boot into his foot, and only pull away when he let out a mumbled string of swears. His grip tightened, a small frown soon pressing into the junction of your lower neck, but for some reason, his disappointment did little to dampen your sense of satisfaction. “Eat shit, hero.”

“So mean, sweetheart.” He was whining, now, his tone pitchy, frustrating. You were used to people like him, people who’d run their drills and nurtured their strengths and polished themselves into something shiny, into something that didn’t have to take anyone else seriously, but no amount of exposure could stop your impatience from building up, simmering and starting to boil over the longer he dragged this out, the longer he held onto that innocent, careless facade and kept his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. It was irritating. It was annoying, and he refused to make it end any faster. “Here I am, trying so hard to play nice, but you just can’t return the favor, can you? It makes sense, honestly. No one’s ever washed your mouth out for saying all those bad words, but you don’t have to--”

This time, you drove your elbow into his stomach, aiming to anger more than injure, but Hawks was faster than you. In a moment, he’d caught you by the shoulder, shoving you against the grimy wall and forcing your cheek against rough brick, your chest against a material too solid to be comfortable. “Hawks--”

“Keigo, baby, Keigo.” The correction was swift, practiced. Cooed in the same sympathetic, patronizing tone he’d use to correct a small child, if they told him the sky was green. “C’mon, can you say it for me? You sounded so precious, earlier, asking Mr. Hawks not to hurt you, begging me not to be too rough. You’ll do it again, won’t you?”

“Bastard.” You hadn’t begged, you’d never begged. You were vulnerable, and you’d done what you had to do to keep yourself safe. You weren’t that brave, you’d rather spend a lifetime rotting in a cell than a minute bleeding out on the filthy floor of an empty warehouse, but you were beginning to regret not being just a little more bold. Even if he didn’t kill you, being shackled to a hospital bed would be leagues better than having his eyes tear into you, than feeling his smirk bite into your skin as he pushed a fleeting kiss into the corner of your jaw. For comfort, you assumed. “Just shut up and arrest me, idiot. I would’ve fought back if I knew you’d be such a creep.”

“Another bad habit we’ll have to train you out of,” He lamented, the thought punctuated with a shake of his head, a wistful sigh. Again, his attention drifted, his touch drifted, none of your muffled complaints and stifled squirming stopping him from snaking an arm around your waist, nimble fingers finding the collar of your costume. Your breath hitched in your throat as he toyed with the fabric, but forgivingly, mercifully, he didn’t move to rip through the thin material. His mind was somewhere else. “Do you honestly think I’d put this much effort into someone I’m just going to arrest?”

For the first time since he’d caught you, the panic truly, genuinely began to set in. Your pulse didn’t race, your heart didn’t pound its way through your ribs - instead, both seemed to stop. As if the implication alone would be enough to end you. “You’re not going to… What?”

“Aw, the poor thing’s speechless.” This time, when he pulled your body against his, you struggled. You fought and you kicked and you scratched, but your hands were bound, your only weapon already disposed of, and all Hawks had to do was beat his wings once before you went still, went quiet, before your blood ran cold and you realized that, handcuffs or no handcuffs, you were defenseless. “That’s it,” He praised, as you went limp against him. “No reason to fight. I’m gonna take you somewhere much nicer than prison, and you’re gonna learn to be grateful. I’m gonna be thankful for you, too.”

There was a pause, a smile soon pressed into your jugular. Giddy, unabashed.

Just as sharp and just as sickening as any cage could ever hope to be.

“I’ve always wanted my own pretty little villain.”

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stab-the-son-of-a · 2 years

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Stabbed

At long last I found this little thread again, and this post. Partial inspiration for this piece, the other half being @whumpers-monthly challenge. Javontae was last seen here.

To get to the stabbing part of the prompt, skip to past the line break. The first part includes throat gore and discussions of death. Second part includes stabbing, hand whump and gore, and mouth whump. The whumpee in the second part is mentioned to have previously drugged a 20 year old woman, but she was safe other than that. There is a comment that could be read as victim blaming. There are a few kisses at the end. Please ask to tag.

“Let’s say all you had on hand was… some wires-”

“Like from a lamp?” Javontae asked.

“Yes, exactly, but lemme finish,” the caller returned, excitedly scribbling down her notes. “So let’s say you’ve got… a lamp. A pair of scissors. And… let’s shake it up and say you gotta keep them in the house, so no transport.”

“Be still my beating heart,” Javontae joked. Already, he could remember all the previous ‘hypotheticals’ this caller had given him. Admittedly the scenario with the water hose and leaving them outside to the elements had been inspired in its simplicity. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about how literally freezing cold that poor bastard must have been. “Becca, am I to assume I can’t just slit the guy’s carotid and be done with it?”

“What makes you say it’s a guy?” Becky asked, just a tad too defensive.

“Because you have a type. Tall, lanky, scruffy hair, cat loving, crippling self doubt…”

“Okay okay! No need to call me out, Tae, jeez.”

Javontae snickered and gestured vaguely for her to continue before remembering the limitations of a phone call. “So can I slit the guy’s throat or not?”

She made a noise of contemplation, which was unusual enough that Javontae sat up a little straighter in his chair.

“Oh? Look at you, branching out.”

“I know, I know. I’m not one for just ending things, puts a bad taste in my mouth but… Yeah, I think I might try to lean into a darker twist this time. How would that work, would it be like in movies where they spray everywhere?”

“Honey, please. I am a professional.” He let out a put upon, exaggerated sigh and checked his nails like he’d seen Fran do a million times before. To be honest, it had quite the dismissive air to it and he found he enjoyed it.

“So. Throat cutting,” Becky prompted.

“‘So throat cutting’ indeed. Hollywood, as always, gets itself all mixed up. It’s not quick and clean. It’s like the CPR of death tropes, nothing clean, pretty or reliable here. It’s not a sure thing unless you’re careful to get that carotid or jugular. You know, there was one fellow who’d managed just to mangle the trachea pretty good instead. Rendered him completely mute.”

Becky gasped and launched herself to her feet. “Wait! Nope, nope. No,” she chuckled, excitedly clicking her pen as she paced. “Nope. I’m not going to go with the death. That’s the easy way out. That’s the hack’s job, that’s for people without imagination! No, taking his voice is much better symbolically and brings an end to his identity and isolates him even further. Oh you are a lifesaver!”

Javontae laughed. “Quite literally.”

“Oh, yeah, my little pet project lives to see another day, apparently. Even if he does get out of this little pickle, he’ll never forget it or be able to get back to normal.” She let out a contented sigh. “I do love when it’s an accidental hero’s journey.”

Javontae hummed his agreement. “Anything else I can help you with, Bex?”

“Yeah, actually- should I just aim not to slice through those arteries or maybe I should stab him in the throat like…?” In his mind’s eye, he could imagine her taking her pen and pantomiming stabbing herself in the throat. The choking noise really sold it.

“You’re gonna want something pretty sharp for the throat, so I dunno if the scissors bit will work well there.”

“Damn.”

“Or… you could use the wire and break some of the cartilage in his trach, then stab his thigh to check if he can still scream.”

“Yes! That’s perfect!”

At her victorious shout, Javontae had to pull the phone away briefly to check if his hearing was still intact. “Jesus Mary and Joseph, Becky, I’m happy to help but damn.”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just all coming together so well. Crush the trachea, damage the vocal cords, check it with scissors to the thigh… I couldn’t have done better myself.”

“Don’t sell yourself too short.”

“I gotta get this out of my system before I lose the drive. You’ve been great! Thanks again, Tae, and say hi to the wife and kids for me!”

“Of course, of course. Have fun, Becky.”

The line went dead with another rushed thank you and goodbye, and Javontae leaned back in his chair, basking in the glow of a job well done. And the mental images were pretty nice, too, if he said so himself.

–––

He had free time after his shift ended because his mother-in-law had agreed to take the kids for the weekend. That gave him about three hours and two days to follow up on a lead he’d found some months back and idly kept track of in his spare time, and that had barely taken but a minute.

Becky’s proposal had sat in the back of his mind, far more appealing than the rest of the banal calls he had to sit through. There were only so many ways to warn newbies about the basics of ‘don’t play with guns unless you want to kill someone’ without losing one’s mind, after all.

But, on the plus side, his precious cargo sat bound in the backseat, nestled between the toddler booster seat and the car seat, bound and gagged with blood drying in a thin stream down the side of his face and sticking the blindfold to his skin. Periodically Javontae glanced back, the practiced motion of a parent with excitable and bellicose children in the back, and noted whenever his captive roused briefly along the drive.

It was good that the man had woken up slightly, Javontae still hadn’t heard the last of it from Milli after he accidentally cracked open a man’s skull with a bottle, believing that the glass would shatter, and ruined their evening plans. He loved his wife dearly, but man could she bring up the past.

Humming, Javontae turned up the radio as his passenger squirmed and moaned into the gag. The rope kept the man’s knees, wrists and elbows tightly pressed together, and the seatbelt held him upright. With the child safety locks in place, if by some miracle Mr. Alexander Divirgilio did manage to slip his bonds, he wouldn’t be able to go far. The only real issue was getting him out of the car and into the garage, because Millie had already pulled in, but all he had to do was snag her keys from the rack and do a little switch, Divirgilio stuck helpless even as he began to thrash in the silent car.

“You know, you’re ridiculously easy to track,” Javontae said as he dragged Divirgilio out of the car, tossing him to the floor. Without his hands to catch him, or any real knowledge of where his body was in the blackness of the blindfold, the man hit the concrete with a solid crack of a snapped wrist and secondary headwound.

“I’d take off that blindfold, but I think you’d like to come out of here alive, right, Divirgilio?”

Divirgilio screamed something into the gag. Rolling his eyes, Javontae left the man there and then moved to set up the chair. What had Becky said, cords like from a lamp, and scissors. Well, Javontae wasn’t any sort of purist by any metric, and this was more for him and his wife, not to be truthful.

An extension cord and a couple lengths of chain did well. While he was messing with the restraints, locking Divirgilio’s arms to the arms of the chair, Millie walked in with a glass of wine and a curious look on her face.

“Now,” she began, taking a sip and taking in the sight of her man at work. “Here I was ready to drag you from whatever nonsensical piece of scrap you’d brought in and give you a proper welcome. Never did I think you’d brought me home a gift.”

“Hey honey!” Javontae tossed a grin over his shoulder at her, then returned to tie a cord around Divirgilio’s neck and leashing it to the spine of the chair. “I was hoping to have this all ready for you.”

Setting down her glass, Millie approached him, hands drifting along his shoulders, layering kisses on his neck and jaw as he finished the knot.

As they both stepped back to admire the way Divirgilio was trussed up - legs and arms and back all bound to the same parts of the chair’s anatomy, rusted out chains around his ankles and old electric-taped cords winding around his wrists and neck. “I think it’s perfect. You’re too good to me.”

They shared another kiss, then Javontae asked, “Do we have a pair of scissors lying around?”

Divirgilio groaned again, a reedy, desperate sound. Millie moved over toward the junk drawer on Javontae’s work bench. “Blunt or sharp? Ohhh, baby, look!” She brandished the exacto-knife she’d unearthed, and the letter opener.

“Either will work,” Javontae answered, giddy at her excitement, then turned back to Divirgilio. “Alrighty. This is what we’ll do. I’m going to remove that gag, you can scream if the pain gets too much, but I won’t remove that blindfold. You’re not gonna go running to anyone after, considering how few allies you have left after that messy divorce.”

Divirgilio stiffened and tugged against the chair, only succeeding in tightening the noose around his neck and choking himself.

“Yes, yes, I know all about the affair… and the baby… and the lack of child support.” Removing the gag now, he continued, “And the woman you drugged up.”

“We were in a bar!” Divirgilio snarled. “She dropped the charges!”

“That’s not an exoneration of guilt and you damn well know it.”

“Nothing happened to the bitch. The charges were dropped. So she got a little too tipsy but she got home safe–”

“Don’t make me cut out your disgusting tongue.”

“Fuck. Fuck, man, just let me go.”

“No,” Millie purred, coming up behind Divirgilio to rest the exacto knife against the soft flesh under his chin, and holding out the scissors to her husband with the other. “No, that young woman got home safe because you were distracted and the security helped her home. There’s no bartender to pour you an angel shot here.”

A sickly sheen of sweat dotted Divirgilio’s brow and he began to hyperventilate. “Shit, shit, fucking shit.”

“Nicely put,” Javontae said, then took the scissors from Millie and turned them in his hand so he could slam the blades into Divirgilio’s thigh.

On cue, the man let out a blood curdling scream, jerking in place and nicking his lower jaw as Millie kept her grip steady, holding his head in place. Blood gushed up in the hole after Javontae managed to tug it free of muscle, especially as he wiggled it free.

“Yep, you sure are a screamer.”

“You could have given me a little warning, hun, this bitch nearly busted my hearing.” Nails trailing along Divirgilio’s jaw, thumb against the cartilaginous part of his throat, she moved in where Javontae had just stood a moment ago. She pressed the edge of the knife into Divirgilio’s mouth, tugging his lip aside with the very threat of cold metal slicing through flesh.

“Beg for me, Alex, beg like I’m about to flay open your face.”

He hesitated, the motion of speaking bringing his lips closer to being sliced open, but Millie jerked the blade back, cutting a notch in the side of his mouth.

“Beg, bitch.”

Sobbing, tears and blood intermingling and dripping down his face, he whimpered, “Please, God, please don’t hurt me. Don’t kill me. God, let me go.”

“I’m not really hearing the desperation. Are you, baby?”

“Nope.” Javontae punctuated his observation by slamming the scissors into the palm of Divirgilio’s hand. If the sound of crunching bone was any indication, he’d hit a bone or two. Maybe. “Are these the tarsal bones or metatarsals?” he wondered aloud, Divirgilio’s choked cries interspersed between his words. As if it wasn’t a fucking delight and a thrill, he twisted the scissors around, mangling the tendons and releasing more blood.

“I think you need to go back to anatomy and physiology. Those are the metacarpals, honey.”

“Are you sure?” Uncaring of Divirgilio’s screams, he continued to twist up the scissors until they remained upright, embedded either in wood or muscle, he couldn’t bother to tell which. “Do you still have that letter opener?”

“I do. Here you go.” Instead of handing it to her husband, Millie slammed the metal piece into Divirgilio’s leg, next to the other gushing hole. Patting the man’s cheek, hand coated now in blood and tears, she backed up and grabbed a towel to wipe the sprayed and smeared blood on her face and hands.

“I should’ve warned you to wear something old and ratty. Sorry about that.” Javontae grabbed Divirgilio by the jaw and angled his head up. If it weren’t for the blindfold, he’d be staring up at the ceiling, at the recessed lighting. In one swift motion, Javontae sunk the letter opener between Divirgilio’s ribs and was rewarded by a choked, wet gush of blood. Trembling, too pale and weak to do much more than cry, Divirgilio sagged in the chair and bled.

Pulling her husband into a hug, angling them both so his arms were around her waist, Millie sighed contently and they watched Divirgilio’s struggles lapse into stillness.

“We should clean up,” Millie said, the reluctance in her voice the same as someone saying they have to leave a party to be a responsible adult in the early morning. “I’ll drag him to a clinic if you’ll clean up the blood?”

Javontae groaned good naturedly. “You know I hate dealing with bleach. But, for you, my loving wife, anything.”

“There’s my loving husband.” With a final peck on the cheek, the couple detached and detangled and set about their respective chores.

#whumpers monthly #issue no 2 #stabbed #lf rebecca susan langdon #live feed series #wcc javontae #wcc millicent #improvised weapons #whump discussion #past off screen drugging #hand whump #mouth whump #kissing cw #blood cw #wcc series #yes it's part of Live Feed and the whump hotline #implied stalking #kidnapping #physical restraints

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duhragonball · 3 years

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Hellsing Liveblog Ch 28-34

“Alucard, you’re the laziest vampire on Mars.”

So, I’ll be wrapping up the “D” arc in this post. Previously, we saw a squad of Millennium goons commandeer a British carrier. Their leader, Lt. Rip Van Winkle, has a musket that shoots magic bullets that can change direction in mid-air. Also, Integra cut her own finger and made Seras lick the blood off. As for Alucard, he’s been binging medical blood and taking a nap.

This is all to set up a one-off gag where Alucard has a dream similar to the one Seras had back in Brazil, where she was visited by the spirit of her cannon, which looked a lot like the guy who played Lord Harkonnen in the Dune movie. Not the new one, the one with Sting in it. Not the wrestler Sting, the musician.

I don’t know why, but the spirit of Al’s gun, the Jackal, is Bruce Willis, but then Bruce gets killed by another guy who looks like Muldoon from Jurassic Park? Maybe? I just googled Muldoon and he doesn’t quite look like I remembered, but there’s no point to any of this, so let’s just move on.

Aboard the H.M.S. Eagle, now renamed the Alder by Milennium, Lt. Winkle has painted a swastika on the deck and she’s taking a nap in the middle of it. Her team is all holed up inside, and they talk about how they’ll never be able to venture out in the sun again. This seemed like a continuity gaffe to me, but then this one dude points out that unlike them, Winkle is a werewolf. So that’s why she can go out in the sun and they can’t.

Maybe the Hellsing Ultimate anime covered this, and I just missed it, but when I watched that series in 2016, I found it strange how there only seemed to be two werewolves in Millennium: The Captain, and Warrant Officer Schrodinger. And yet, Schrodinger speaks of his fellow werewolves with some pride, as if there were more than just two of them, and it turns out that this was what he meant. Rip Van Winkle’s a werewolf, and I’m starting to think Zorin Blitz must be a werewolf too.

And that explains a few things, because the real inner circle of Millennium is those four characters, the Doctor, and the Major. Their 1,000 soldiers are vampires, but their leaders are not. Like the guy in this scene observes, Millennium’s vampire corps are “mere rookies” compared to the werewolves, and that’s why they’re the ones the Major put in charge.

This also puts the Dandyman in context. The Doctor seemed to have high hopes for the Dandyman, but he failed to put a dent in Alucard. I never understood his confidence, seeing as Winkle and Blitz were stronger, but now it makes sense. The Doctor’s been trying to perfect artificial vampirism for the last fifty-odd years. Dandyman represented the most powerful vampire he could produce, and he paled in comparison to the real thing. Millennium’s werewolves are far more capable, but I don’t know if the Doctor had anything to do with them. Even if he did, his success with them is unrelated to his vampire research.

Also, Rip just looks... different somehow. Maybe I’m grasping at straws, but her design might be intended to evoke wolf-like features, as opposed to vampiric features. Well, I’ll worry about that later.

In England, Sir Integra barges in on the British Navy HQ and all the officers there take offense. They seem to find the idea of vampires ludicrous, even though Hellsing is an official government agency and has been for over 100 years. Their commander, Vice-Admiral Shelby Penwood, asks her to stay, but it’s like his subordinates don’t even notice this. He’s a pretty weak leader, is my point.

The Navy insists on handling the Eagle crisis without Integra, so she lights up a cigar and observes them in action. They send some helicopters to check out the carrier, but Winkle shoots them down with her magic bullet. It quickly becomes apparent that nothing can get close enough to the Eagle without getting destroyed, and since the Navy won’t listen to Integra, she withdraws to her own HQ to consider a proper strategy.

The fundamental problem for Hellsing is that they need to get Alucard or Seras aboard the Eagle in order to neutralize the threat, but vampires can’t cross running water. A boat is out of the question because it’s too slow, and an aircraft would be shot down by the magic bullet. But there is one aircraft that can get the job done...

So Integra arranges to launch a modified SR-71 Blackbird. Comics fans will recognize this as the plan the X-Men used in the comics. I don’t know if they still use it. At some point it probably stopped being cool, but in 1999 it was cool enough for Hellsing. Strictly speaking, the Blackbird in this comic was heavily modified by the RAF’s research and development teams, so it’s practically a whole other aircraft. The main point, though, is that it’s a reconnaissance plane, capable of flying at speeds of Mach 3 and at altitudes of 16 miles. Unlike Sir Penwood’s aircraft, this one can approach the Eagle high enough in the air to avoid enemy fire.

Below, Rip Van Winkle appears to sense Alucard’s approach and seems to have a panic attack over it. Me, I’m just wondering why Hellsing wasted precious time having their cutesy logo painted on the tailfin of this plane.

So how the hell does Alucard plan to get the plane down without getting shot at? SImple, he doesn’t. He just nosedives straight down onto the carrier, and what does he care if the plane gets shot to hell on the way down?

A lot of this arc is just badass shots of this crash landing, and the ensuing carnage. I’m skipping a lot of beautiful artwork, but there’s really nothing going on beyond “Alucard crashes his plane onto an aircraft carrier.”

Once he hits the ground, Al releases his restraints to Level 1, the same level he used against Luke Valentine, and he goes to town on Milennium’s soldiers. Rip Van Winkle keeps whimpering about Zamiel, which is a reference to Der Freischütz , a German opera about a huntsman with a musket that fires seven magic bullets. The first six will hit whatever the huntsman aims for, but the seventh belongs to the Evil One, Zamiel, who can guide it wherever he pleases.

Winkle flashes back to a coversation she had years ago with the Major, who recognizes her musket as a reference to Der Freischütz, and he warned her to remember how the opera ends: With Zamiel coming to claim the soul of Kaspar. Rip is terrified because it doesn’t take a genius to see how Alucard’s attack might resemble this moment.

After her men are all destroyed, Rip gathers enough composure to put up a fight, but her magic bullet can only hit Alucard, not kill him. Eventually, he just catches the thing in his mouth, neutralizing her power entirely.

Then we proceed with what I consider the most gruesome scene in the whole story. Alucard starts by impaling Rip through the heart with the barrel of her own musket.

Then he sprouts all these extra hands and grabs hold of her like some horrible nightmare-spider or something.

Then he starts licking up the blood from her wound, really taking his time with it. He’s stuck on this boat, after all, and there’s no one else alive to distract him.

And finally he goes for the jugular, as it were.

Aboard his zeppelin, the Major is watching all of this. I guess Schrodinger’s power to be anywhere makes it possible for them to keep tabs on what’s happening. All he has to do is bring a video camera along. The Doctor prepares to activate Winkle’s self-destruct chip, but the Major forbids this. They used this device on Jan Valentine and the Dandyman, but only because they failed in their missions. As for Rip Van Winkle, the Major declares her mission a complete success. He orders his men to salute as they watch her die slowly at the hands of Alucard. A twisted honor, to be sure.

And with Winkle finally dead, Alucard just laughs up a storm.

Here’s the problem, he’s stuck on that boat now. And Hellsing knew it would go like this when they sent him, but they didn’t have a choice. Early into the crisis, Integra and Walter recognized the Eagle as a mere decoy, one that would distract them from the real threat, but they couldn’t ignore it, and now Alucard’s on the Eagle while Millennium’s true forces are heading for Great Britain.

So yeah, take a good look at Alucard, because we won’t be seeing him again for a while...

#2021hellsingliveblog #hellsing #lt rip van winkle #the major #the doctor #alucard #sir integra hellsing #walter c dornez #seras victoria #bruce willis or something idc

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polaroid15 · 3 years

Text

Febuwhump day 3 - Imprisonment

Hey everyone! Here’s day 3! This is one of my favourites, so I really hope you enjoy! <3 <3

Summary:

“What do I need to do?”

“It’s simple, really,” the man replies. He steps closer to Peter, gaze hardening. “Though I set up the board, the game is in your hands, Stark. Find the boy before it’s too late, and collect your prize.”

Another pause.

“How much time do I have?”

“Well, until he bleeds out.”

---Or, Peter is kidnapped by a crazy guy in a clown mask. Typical.---

Read this chapter and previous ones on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/71656323

---

The room is freezing.

Waking up is horrible, the cold seeming to penetrate every cell in his body before his eyes even have their chance to open. When by some miracle they do, he’s met with a dark and unfamiliar room. A basement, by the looks of it, stripped down to its cement foundation.

It’s January, a very unfortunate time to be kidnapped and brought to an undeveloped basement, Peter thinks. Why his captor couldn’t have waited to kidnap him in a warmer month is beyond his delirious thought process, or why they hadn’t at least let him keep his jacket. Hell, they even took his shoes, which is beyond rude. Every time he breathes a thin vapor rises up to bite at his eyes.

Or maybe the sting is just tears.

He tries to move, to warm up his shaking body, but it’s practically impossible in his current situation, tied and gagged tightly in every possible way to a thick wooden chair. They must’ve pumped his veins with something to keep him docile, because no matter how much he squirms, he remains stuck.

He chokes on a breath behind the gag, panicked, and pulls harder.

But he can barely hold up his head, let alone break free.

Oh man.

Peter lays his head back against the chair and floats for a minute, trying to calm his heart. Tony will come for him.

He always does.

It’s uncomfortable and lonely, but Peter refuses to be scared. He bites hard on the gag between his teeth to keep them from chattering and stares at the closed door he faces, waiting for his attacker to show themself.

The waiting is the worst part, he decides, and shivers again.

He thinks of Tony again, wondering if the man knows about his absence as he wiggles his wrists around the tightly knotted rope keeping his hands trapped together behind him. It burns and aches but combats the cold, so he continues to struggle with as much vigor as his weakened body can handle.

His mind searches desperately for the explanation of his current predicament, the memory connecting him to this awful place, but it evades him like smoke.

A violent shiver rips through his body. He can feel it from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head. God he hates winter. If someone didn’t come for him soon, he’d be nothing more than a Peter popsicle.

Before the imagery of the thought can really sink in, the door opens so suddenly that Peter’s shivering stops short for him to jump. Hot adrenaline courses through his veins and causes tears spring up into his eyes at the contrast of it all. The person who enters is tall and broad, their face obscured by a graphic clown mask. A new kind of shiver runs down Peter’s spine like an electrical current and he tips his chin up in defiance, growling unintelligible words at his kidnapper through the thick cloth pulled between his lips.

“Hello, Peter.”

There must be some form of speech disguiser built into the mask, because the voice that greets him is choppy and mechanical. It fills the empty space between them and Peter narrows his eyes into slits, forcing his heart to keep its normal tempo.

Don’t show that you’re scared. Don’t show that you’re scared-

“I do hope you’re comfortable,” the man says, the silicon skin of the clown twisted up into a manic smile. “I can’t wait for the fun we’ll have.”

Peter mumbles into his gag again, feeling powerless without his voice. He twists his wrists again violently, the adrenaline giving him some strength, but it’s not nearly enough.

He’s trapped.

“Now, now, I know what you must be thinking. What is a boy like me doing in a place like this? Let me assure you, Mr. Parker, that this is no random circumstance. I have been watching you for quite some time.”

Even if Peter could talk, he’d be speechless. Fear rushes through him with the force of a tidal wave, stinging at his eyes and rising acid in his throat. The man tilts his crazed, masked head to the side as if in intrigue and lets out a high pitched mechanical laugh. Despite his stubborn resolve, Peter flinches.

“Tony Stark doesn’t have many people in his inner circle,” the man continues gleefully, “and I have come to find that you are one of them! A weak, defenseless teenager. The opportunity was simply too wonderful to pass up on!”

Not Spider-Man, then.

Good.

“Tell me, Peter. What will it take to bring our so-called superhero to his knees?” The man steps closer, smelling like cigarette smoke and leather. “How many fingers?”

Peter gasps into the gag as the man’s gloved hands curl around his throat, closing tight. “My, my Peter,” the man laughs, stroking his thumb across Peter’s jugular. “Your heart is beating fast. Are you afraid?”

Slowly, Peter shakes his head. The grip on his throat tightens and the man’s face swoops down towards him until they’re only inches apart. When he speaks again, it’s only a whisper. “I don’t believe you.”

With that, his captor releases his hold, shoving Peter’s head back violently. It takes every ounce of self control not to show his discomfort and he settles once more to glaring at the masked man with as much malice as he can muster.

“Shall we give your beloved hero a call?”

Uncaring for Peter’s response, the man pulls out a dull black flip phone from his pocket. He must have Tony’s number memorized because he types it in with ease. Peter wonders how he found it.

It rings three times, and even though his captor is standing a couple feet away, Peter hears Tony’s voice fill the receiver with perfect clarity.

“This is Stark.”

As if hardly believing his luck, the clown man raises an animated fist into the air and cackles out a high pitched laugh. It would’ve been funny in a different circumstance. When the laugh dies and the man collects himself, he brings the phone close to the mask where his lips are hidden behind, savouring every word. “Hello Stark.”

A long pause meets the greeting. Peter can picture Tony in his mind’s eye, weighing his options with a weary annoyance. Finally, his voice carries through the receiver. “Look, frankly I don't have the time for this. Either tell me what you want or find another billionaire to piss off.”

“Very well.” The mechanical voice continues to grate under Peter’s skin, unnerving him to the bone. It’s almost worse than the cold. “I’ll keep it short and sweet. For if anyone is to know the true value of time, it’s me. And, of course, our darling mutual friend Peter.”

“Peter?” Even if Tony were trying to mask his surprise, it’s failing. Peter grinds his nails into the soft skin on his hand he can reach, feeling a vicious swipe of guilt run through him in icy fragments. “How do you-”

“Know him?” The man finishes. His crazed eyes turn to Peter from behind the mask, attaching to his frame with a repulsing intensity. “We’ve been able to spend a lot of quality time together, Peter and I. I see why you love him.”

The next time Tony speaks, it's in anger. Peter flinches at the sound and tries to control his breathing. “If you lay one single hand on that boy I swear to God I’ll skin you alive.”

“Tut, tut. I would speak more kindly to me if I were you.”

A measured breath, the softening of tone.

“Fine. What do I need to do?”

“Simple, really,” the man replies. He steps closer to Peter, gaze hardening. “Though I set up the board, the game is in your hands, Stark. Find the boy before it’s too late, and collect your prize.”

Another pause.

“How much time do I have?”

“Until he bleeds out.”

Without further warning, the man pulls out a handgun, aims it at Peter, and pulls the trigger. At first, Peter thinks the man missed. Then, as the ringing echo of the shot fades from his ears, he feels the pain in one giant tidal wave of agony and screams.

Even with the gag, the sound is piercing. The man laughs robotically and claps his hands in quick succession. The shot had hit him in the top of his right thigh, the blood warm and slick as it gushes from the wound. He refuses to look at it, keeping his wobbly vision trained stubbornly at his attacker.

“Well this has been great fun, Stark, but sadly it’s time for me to go,” he says, returning his ear to the phone. “I would hurry if I were you.”

Before he leaves, the man walks up beside Peter once more, phone still connected and in hand. He strokes Peter’s hair, the plastic smile unfailing, and hooks his fingers around Peter’s gag. With a surprising gentleness, he pulls it loose, then settles the phone against Peter’s shoulder where he pins it there with his head.

“I hope he hears you take your last breath,” the man says. “Goodbye, Peter Parker.”

Peter’s chest is heaving. Before his captor leaves, he snakes his hand down to Peter’s thigh, fingers hovering over the rapidly bleeding wound. He pushes them down into the bullet hole and Peter screams again, ripping his throat raw. All he sees is white, and though his lucidity ebbs like the tide, he focuses everything on keeping the phone pressed against his shoulder. Static runs through the device, but if it forms any words, it's simply beyond his comprehension.

When his vision clears, the man in the clown mask is gone.

And he’s alone.

“Peter?”

Gasps turn into sobs. Peter can’t help it.

He’s finished with being strong.

“T-Tony. Tony!”

There’s a heavy exhale of pent up air on the other end of the line and Peter tries his hardest to focus on it, on anything to distract himself from the absolute burning torture in his leg.

“You’re- you’re okay kiddo. You’re going to be fine. I’m on my way to get you right now okay?”

“It- it hurts-”

“I know bud, I know. You’ve been so brave. I just need you to hang on a little longer.”

Peter throws his head back against his chair, blinking out stars as unwanted tears leak out of the corners of his eyes like hot wax. The ceiling spins harshly when he looks at it, so he closes his eyes and tries to keep his sobs from erupting.

“Parker!”

“Wha?” For a moment, Peter thinks he’s being saved. He lifts his head, careful to keep the phone in place. But when his eyes adjust to the spinning room, it’s empty.

“You checked out there for a minute,” Tony says. Again, Peter hears the fear lacing his mentor’s tone. It should make him feel scared, he thinks, but it doesn’t. Not really.

“S’ry.”

“It’s okay. You’re fine. I’m almost there, okay?”

“M’kay.”

“I’m not getting any reports for Karen,” Tony says, his voice more gentle than Peter’s ever heard it. “Are you in your suit bud?”

“No.”

“Can you reach the wound? Put pressure on it?”

More tears fall out of Peter’s eyes. He wishes they would stop. “N-no. My hands are- are tied.”

“Okay,” Tony says again, voice even. “Just hang on. Stay awake. Five minutes, I promise.”

“Mmm.”

“How was school today Pete?” Tony asks urgently. “Tell me all about it.”

Surprised, Peter tries to remember. If Tony’s asking, it must be important. Searching for the memories feels equivalent to walking through quicksand or punching through a brick wall.

“Peter?”

“Um. Had a chemistry test. Was good.”

“That’s great,” Tony says. “What else?”

The burning pain in Peter’s leg has faded significantly, replaced by a blissful numbness. He knows it’s bad but is too relieved to dwell on it, sinking into the reprieve with open arms. Distantly, he can hear his blood dripping against the floor, can feel it soaking into his socks. His head wobbles and barely catches the phone in time before it slips.

It’s almost peaceful, he thinks.

“Ben was shot,” Peter says dizzily. “‘S how he died.”

Tony’s breaths are short and laboured in Peter’s ear. “Peter Benjamin Parker-”

“‘M not scared anymore.”

“I’m two minutes out. Stay awake. God please stay awake!”

Peter hums, and despite the clear instruction, feels his eyelids flutter. He wishes he could see Tony’s face once more, to tell him in person what he means to him, but the idea floats away from him like smoke.

“T-tony?”

“Yeah kid?”

“I-I-” but there’s no conclusion, no final words. With a sickening twist of vertigo, Peter feels the phone slide from its secure spot in the crook of his neck. It hits the cement, splashing up hot blood, and lays on its side. Peter watches it in detached surprise, feeling the last of his resolve crumbling.

Goodbye.

If Tony is still speaking through the device, Peter can no longer hear it, his senses muted and dull. He remembers how Ben’s eyes had looked right before he died, wonders if it’s how he looks now.

It’s his last thought before the darkness takes him.

---

Peter wakes up in someone’s arms.

At first, he thinks he’s reunited with his Uncle. Wherever he is, he’s safe and warm. He doesn’t feel any pain. In fact, he doesn’t feel anything at all, his existence a dramatic blur.

“Peter?”

He must’ve moved. The person holding him shifts to acknowledge his wakefulness, the voice soft and hopeful.

It’s not Ben, Peter realizes with some disappointment, though someone similar. Someone safe.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, buddy. You’re okay now.”

He must be crying, because he feels calloused fingers wipe away moisture from his cheeks.

It clicks.

“Tony?”

“Oh thank God.”

Yep, it’s Tony.

Peter smiles, understanding.

He can sleep peacefully now.

#febuwhump #febuwhump day 3 #febuwhump 2021 #peter parker #tony stark #mcu #spider-man #peter parker whump #hurt/comfort #kidnapping #kidnapped peter parker #irondad #irondad fic #spiderson #tony stark is a good dad #Enjoy my friends! <3 #you're all amazing!

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ellemcu · 3 years

Text

I don’t wanna hurt you ( bucky x reader)

Part 1 \\ Part 2 \\ Part 4

Part 3: And he is there.again.

Word count: 889 words

warnings: swearing

You were being kept inside the van for half an hour until one of the soldiers next to you stood up and looked you deep in the eyes. It was your signal to get out and do your job. You stared at him blankly for a few seconds, studying his facial expression and then for up and reloaded your gun. You raised your shirt and your shot wound had stopped bleeding after you had taken out the bullet with your bare hands.

The serum mixed with your abilities made your wounds close up incredibly quickly but that wasn't such a good thing at hydra. It was seen more of an invitation: if the pain they inflict on you doesn't stay for long then it wasn't enough so every single time the pain would be harsher and more unbearable.

You rolled your shirt back down and moved in front of the sliding door, ready to attack any moment now. You waited for the soldier to nod and then she opened the door and hopped out of the van easily. You scanned your surroundings until you saw it. The same damn man. Only this time he was shooting grenades with a RPG at some people at a short distance: two men and a red headed woman.

The man in the black suit made a blonde guy fall from the bridge on top of a bus and that's when you realized those were the people you were sent to kill. "(This dude has just crossed the line) Этот чувак перешел черту'' you mumbled yourself. You started running towards the bridge where they were fighting, debating wether you should kill the man first and then finish your mission or complete your mission and then take your time to torture and eventually kill this asshole who keeps getting on your way. The second option sounded way better.

You were exactly under the bridge when the woman fell down one side of the bridge and then started running towards your direction. You were so ready for this.

You grabbed your gun and reloaded it,raised it towards her and started shooting at her. She rolls on the floor and then throws a small metal ball towards you and before you know it you are being electrified. Energy running through your veins, once again, you looked in her eyes while shaking from the electricity. She kept on running under the bridge until she reached the side where her blonde friend had fallen. She raised her guns and started shooting at the all-in-black dude.

That was your man to kill, not hers.

You grabbed the small ball and smashed it with your hands, the energy dying instantly. You stood up slowly from the ground and started running towards the bridge. Change of plan, first you're gonna kill the dude who looks just like you and then you'll get over with your mission.

You get to a light post and climb it with ease as it brought you high enough for you to jump on the bridge where your first target was shooting, fortunately he hadn’t noticed you, well, you weren’t called shadow for nothing. You stood up straight on the pole and lifted yourself up on the bridge. You pulled yourself up easily and crouched down on your knees.

You lift your head and look at his actions, the way he held his gun, the way he placed his feet on the ground to keep a steady posture, his shoulder- length brown hair moving swiftly thanks to the slight wind blowing, his robust and powerful muscles showing underneath the suit he was wearing, you could’ve sworn you’d seen him somewhere and those swift moves aren’t easily seen around, not that you were out in public, enjoying yourself much.

You let out a deep breath and grabbed your AK47 from your back, reloading it making an old bullet fall to the ground. You look inside your viewfinder, aiming for his internal jugular vein on his neck. You had a clear shot on it because while he was shooting tilted his head slightly, maybe to have a more precise aim. You tightened your grip on your pistol grip and moved your index finger on the trigger.

You were still looking in the viewfinder when you pulled the trigger.

You wanted to see your mission die, at your feet. You wanted to see his blood oozing out of his neck. You didn’t care who he was. You didn’t care if he suffered and you obviously didn’t care if you had to kill another. It was your duty right?

You were waiting for the bullet to hit him until you felt a throbbing pain in your lower abdomen followed by another excruciating feeling on your chest. Damn my chest is really getting killed lol.

Then something hit your upper nape and everything went black.

*******************************

Part 4

Fuck, im into this story too lol. This may be worse than my other parts but I swear to god i can really write so much better but my power is gone and I didn't have much time but I still wanted to go on with the story so here it is. Ik it's shorter too, really sorry guys. I promise the next part is gonna be way better. Hope you still like it,

Elle

#bucky x reader #hydrareader #hydra #steverogers #part3 #natasha #nat #bucky barnes #bucky barns fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #stevebucky #reader x bucky barnes

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autisticfangpyreclub · 4 years

Note

Here’s an Oni Lloyd writing request: A nightmare!

Before I wrote this I was like okay lets not make this too angst... then it became very angst. But its okay because theres a happy ending so its fine :’D

It was bright… it was way too bright. It was so bright he couldn’t see, he was helpless and confused and scared. Lloyd stumbled around, desperately attempting to shield his eyes with his paws, but to no avail. There was no reprieve from the overwhelming brightness anywhere. The sickening white light was all around him, even when he curled into a ball and covered his face the light was still there, threatening to leak into his skin and burn him from the inside out.

Lloyd tried to scream, but no sound was heard. The light was so loud, so shrill, it drowned everything else out. His mind was trapped, and being pelted by sensory hell. Horrible noises, horrible light, screeching and vile and seeping into his brain like poison.

Then the noises shifted into voices. His family’s voices. He couldn’t see them, but he felt their presence standing over him. They spat insults at him.

“Monster!” “Beast!” “Demon!” “Embarrassment! Weakling!” “Disgusting creature, you don’t deserve to live…”

Lloyd sobbed. He clutched onto his tail with a shaking hand and buried his face in his chest fur. Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop…

“Look at you… even more hideous and evil than me.”

Lloyd gave a cry of agony. That was his father’s voice, as bitter and sinister as ever. Why couldn’t he just leave him alone? Hadn’t he torn Lloyd’s life apart enough?

“And here I expected better of my son.”

He choked. It was still his father's voice, but not the voice of the evil warlord. Now it was the voice of his teacher, his protector, the father who loved him…

“Look at you… an abomination, a creature of darkness… no wonder you let me die.”

“NO!” Lloyd cried, “no, no please, I’m sorry!”

He felt a cold hand on his back. A hissing sound echoed in his ears.

“If you were truly good, you would have saved me.”

“No… no…”

“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t have let me drown.”

“Stop… please…”

“Of course, oni can’t love, now can they?”

Lloyd couldn’t take this anymore. He grit his fangs, and unsheathed his claws. He just wanted it all to end. He aimed for his jugular.

Before he could slash himself, a large shadow appeared above him. Dark green smoke swirled around him like a tornado, blocking out the light and voices. Finally, there was quiet.

The shadow was by his side in an instant. Lloyd recognized her immediately.

“I’m sorry little one, I should’ve gotten here sooner-“

Lloyd practically hurled himself at Theta, gripping onto her fur for dear life. “Please help me, the noises won't stop and my dad he’s… no… please…” he sobbed.

Theta held him close, and nuzzled him. “It’s alright Lloyd, you're safe, I’m here now, and your friends are as well,” she said softly, looking off into the distance, “they’re very worried about you…”

The world around him became a blur as he was pulled back into the waking world. Theta carried him up until he could feel himself regaining consciousness. When she finally let go, Lloyd opened his eyes.

The ninja were standing above him, all looking distressed. Obviously he had been tossing and turning violently in his sleep, if the pillows strewn across the floor were any indication. Lloyd blinked away the last of his tears. “...hey guys…” he murmured.

He was swarmed with hugs and worried questions. By the time Lloyd had assured them all he was alright, he was purring louder than a motorcycle. That was how he knew his vision had only been a nightmare. Because his real family loved him, oni and all.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago lloyd #lloyd garmadon #ninjago au #peaceful oni au #oni lloyd #ninjago oni #theta #ninjago oc #theta uses her dream powers whenever lloyd has a nightmare bcuz shes good mommy #suicide attempt tw

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angelofthequeers · 5 years

Text

From the Liar’s Mouth

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Summary: “If you want to take down Lila, you have to play the long game,” Kagami says. “That means winning over your classmates. You’ve tried the direct approach and where has that gotten you?”

Who would've thought that Kagami's advice would not only let Marinette tolerate Lila's existence, but also land her both a boyfriend and a girlfriend?

AO3 link

“…and I just don’t get how Mr Damocles could believe her like that!” Marinette waves her hands around, nearly spilling her orange juice all over the table. “A condition that makes her lie? There’s no such thing! And I don’t want to go into “you need official proof of your disability to be believed” territory, but with as many conditions as she says she has? Why hasn’t anyone called her mother and asked for everything they should know to accommodate her? Especially when I needed, like, ten pieces of paper just to prove to them that I’m autistic!”

Across from her, Kagami just smiles and takes a sip of juice. Why is Kagami smiling at a time like this? This is a disaster! Lila gets off scot-free, with an even more iron-clad excuse for lying, and Adrien is Kagami’s friend too, right? Why isn’t Kagami worried for him?

“How can you smile when she’s just gotten away with it again?” Marinette bursts out. “Especially after how she hurt you with that picture of her kissing Adrien?”

“I’m going to choose to take your statement as worry for me after what Lila did to me and not an accusation, since I know you meant the former,” Kagami says rather calmly. “And if you would stop allowing your contempt for Lila to cloud you, you would see that she’s just handed you victory on a silver platter.”

“Me? She’s the one who gets to lie about everything!” Marinette says.

“Exactly,” Kagami says. “She supposedly has a condition that makes her lie uncontrollably. You have an admission that she’s a liar from the horse’s mouth. How long will it take before people start to doubt her word? And they will hear about her condition. Mr Damocles will have to inform Ms Bustier, so there’s no chance that the rest of the class won’t find out.”

“And if Lila somehow manages to keep it from them?” Marinette says. Kagami’s smile widens into something that a predator might give their prey before going for the jugular.

“Whether or not she keeps it from them, she’s backed herself into a corner,” Kagami says. “Now is the time for calmness, Marinette. Fall back and strategise. First of all, you have to ingratiate yourself with your classmates again.”

“Ingratiate myself with them?” Marinette scowls and takes a violent swig of juice. “After they doubted me and shoved me to the back and – and treated me like –”

“If you want to take down Lila, you have to play the long game,” Kagami says. “That means winning over your classmates. You’ve tried the direct approach and where has that gotten you?”

“I know, I know,” Marinette sighs. “Just…all that’s necessary for evil to triumph is that good people do nothing.”

“You won’t be doing nothing,” Kagami says. “Doing nothing would involve shrugging and writing your classmates off as a lost cause, allowing Lila to have them. That’s not what you’re doing. You’re falling back and searching for another angle of attack, just as Ladybug and Chat Noir would temporarily retreat from a battle to find another way to attack the akuma. To achieve your ultimate goal, sometimes you have to accept a few losses.”

Marinette stares. How…how has she never thought of it that way? “God, why didn’t I talk to you before?” she says. Kagami’s lips twitch.

“Because we weren’t friends before,” she says. “Now, here’s the plan to take Lila down. I do warn you, though, it involves playing nice with her.”

With a groan, Marinette thumps her head on the table. “It’s not like I can do anything else,” she mumbles into the wood. “Fine. What’s the plan, Kagami?”

“Alright,” Marinette sighs, staring at the school building looming over her like a gigantic akuma. “You can do this.”

“It’s okay to be nervous!” Tikki says. “After being expelled yesterday, I’d feel nervous about facing my classmates too!”

“It’s not just that,” Marinette says. “I…have to be nice to Lila. I have to sit there and let her lie and just smile along with it!”

“Well, Kagami did have a point,” Tikki says. “The direct approach isn’t getting you anywhere. All you can really do now is let her lie herself into a corner.”

“Which is what Adrien told me to do. Bet he didn’t think I’d get expelled over it.”

“Adrien didn’t think she was much of a threat. You’re coming from a completely different angle, Marinette! You’re taking the active approach to letting her hang herself.”

“True…” Marinette squares her shoulders and marches through the school gates. “I can do this! I’m strong! I’m confident! I’m Marinette!”

“That’s the spirit!” Tikki cheers.

Marinette’s burst of confidence lasts right until she’s outside the classroom door, where Lila’s holding court with her loud lies about hanging out with Clara Nightingale or something like that. She gulps and clenches her fists. Nope. She can’t do this. She can’t face them. She can’t stand there and look at Lila’s smug little smirk and feel like she’s letting Lila get away with this –

Something bats against her thigh. It’s Tikki, still inside her purse, who looks up and gives her a reassuring little smile. Marinette swallows, then nods and pushes the classroom door open. Almost as though she’s walking to the gallows, every single classmate falls silent and turns to stare at her.

Fantastic. Everyday Ladybug, her arse.

“Oh, Marinette!” Lila clasps her hands to her chest. “I’m so happy to see you’re back! I’m so awfully sorry, I didn’t mean to get you expelled!”

“It wasn’t your fault, Lila!” Kim says. “You can’t help your condition!”

Ah. So, Lila has told them about her supposed condition. That makes Marinette’s job a lot easier. She pastes on a smile and tilts her head.

“I’m so sorry, Lila,” she forces herself to chirp. “I had no idea about your condition! I just really hate liars, see, and I saw you as a threat to my friends, and I’m so used to protecting them from Chloé. If I’d known that you couldn’t help it…”

“Wow, thanks,” Chloé drawls. Something flashes in Lila’s eyes, too fast for anyone else to see.

“You were just worried for us?” Rose rushes over and throws her arms around Marinette. “Oh, that’s so sweet of you, Marinette! It’s so good that you’re apologising!”

“Yes, Marinette, thank you for your apology,” Lila says with a tight-lipped smile. “I completely understand your reaction. And it’s so noble that you were just trying to protect your friends.”

With that, something in the atmosphere seems to shift, like Lila’s welcomed Marinette into the fold and her classmates have once again accepted her. It takes every little shred of willpower to keep smiling and not go on the attack, but Marinette forces herself to take her seat and listen to Alya’s speech about coming to her senses and pushing her jealousy aside.

God, this sucks.

“…and she said, “Oh, Lila, I simply must make up a music video about you! You have to be in it!” But you guys know me, I simply can’t bear the attention –”

“That must have been so hard for you, Lila!” Marinette says. It’s been a week of this, a week of pretending that Lila’s a saint, and god, if she wasn’t doing this to avenge Kagami for the Oni-chan thing just as much as for herself, she’d have lost her shit by now. “After the song that Jagged Stone wrote about you, it must have been so tempting to let Clara Nightingale make a music video about you!”

“Oh, yes!” Max says. “You did mention that Jagged Stone had written a song about you, Lila!”

“Can’t hate attention that much, then,” Chloé scoffs. Although she cops a few glares, there are also a few quizzical looks aimed at Lila.

“Oh – well, a song is so different to a music video!” Lila says.

“Not really?” Nino says. “They’re both songs, dude. One’s just got visuals.”

“And Nino would know,” Marinette says. “He’s the best DJ and filmmaker around!”

“Dude!” Nino reaches back to fist-bump her. Next to him, Adrien’s watching Marinette with a furrowed brow, like he’s trying to figure out why Marinette’s been so chummy with her mortal enemy for the past week. But she’s not confiding in him after that photoshoot. She’s telling no one. No one apart from Kagami. The last thing she needs is for Lila to get wind of what’s going on, if she doesn’t already suspect it.

“Well…it just felt odd, you know?” Lila says. “Jagged wrote that song because I saved his kitten, but I haven’t really done anything for Clara!”

The class seems to accept that. But Marinette doesn’t miss how a few of them, like Nathaniel and Alix, stare at Lila with frowns even after Ms Bustier arrives and calls the class to order.

“Hey, Marinette, can I talk to you real quick?” Adrien says once class is over and they’re filing out. Marinette forces herself to smile.

“Sure!” she says. She hasn’t really spoken to Adrien since the photoshoot he’d done with Lila, more for his sake so that she doesn’t explode about colluding with the enemy, but maybe it’s time to clear the air between them and just…get it all out there. Keenly aware of Lila’s scorching glare on the back of her neck, she follows Adrien out of Ms Bustier’s classroom and to the locker room, which is thankfully empty since it’s lunchtime.

“Do you…believe Lila about her condition?” Adrien says once the locker room door is shut and they’re separated from the rest of the school. Marinette scoffs.

“Of course I don’t,” she says. “But Kagami told me –”

“Kagami? You’re friends with Kagami?”

Marinette stares. “Yeah…though I don’t know what that’s got to do with this.”

“Nothing. I just…always got the impression that you didn’t like each other.”

“Not at first. But we sorted it out. Anyway, she told me that I have to play along with Lila’s condition, make myself look innocent, and Lila will eventually lie herself into a corner.”

“Which is what I said when she got back here, didn’t I?” Adrien says. Marinette raises an eyebrow.

“No,” she says. “You said to just let her be. Kagami told me to push her into lying herself into something she can’t escape while being all nice about it.”

Adrien winces. “Right. Marinette…I’m really sorry. I thought Lila was just an attention seeker. If I’d known she was that dangerous…I shouldn’t have let you get expelled before doing anything.”

“Like having a photoshoot with her?” Marinette says. Her eyes widen seconds after those words slip out. “S-Sorry! I’m sorry! That was really rude –”

“No, no, you’ve got every right to feel hurt,” Adrien says. “I didn’t know what to say before, or I would’ve come to you days ago. I didn’t want to be in that photoshoot with her. I only agreed so that she’d tell another lie to get you un-expelled.”

“You –” Marinette’s eyes widen. Everything makes sense now! Why else would Lila care about undoing her damage? “That was you? You sold your soul for me?”

“Of course I did.” Adrien crosses his arms. “You’re my friend. And if I’d done something before now, you wouldn’t have been expelled. Or nearly akumatised!”

“Adrien –”

“Do you know how terrifying it was to see you with that Hawkmoth mask over your face?” Adrien’s green eyes seem to plead with her very soul to understand. “To watch our everyday Ladybug nearly get akumatised? You’re so – so strong, Marinette. You always manage to stay positive and figure out a solution to the problem. Seeing you about to give in to Hawkmoth…it didn’t hit me until then just how bad this Lila problem was.”

Her cheeks flaming with the blood that pours into them, Marinette looks down at the floor and tries to form a coherent sentence, both in her mind and out loud. But what comes out of her mouth is something that vaguely sounds like a strangled groan; certainly nothing resembling words.

“So long as Lila leaves you alone, I’ll put up with her,” Adrien says. “Think of it as my contribution to yours and Kagami’s plan. The inside man, right?” Then he winks. Dear god, how is Marinette still alive?

“I – um – you shouldn’t – it’s your body!” she manages to babble. Adrien’s volunteering to do this for her? “You shouldn’t have to put up with someone treating you like a living mannequin!”

“She’s going to do that anyway,” Adrien says. “Remember what happens whenever we call her out? I might as well make use of it. It’s the least I can do for letting it get this far.”

“Um – uh – if sure you – if you’re sure!” Marinette forces out. She clears her throat and straightens up. “But you have to detox with me and Kagami. If that won’t hurt your plan, of course…”

“It won’t,” Adrien says. He rests a hand on her shoulder and yep, Marinette is deceased right now. “Lila can’t stop me from hanging out with my friends. And the odd photoshoot here and there will keep her happy. All she wants is attention, so if I give it to her, she won’t see you coming.” With another wink as he slides his arm around her, he says, “I’ll be the Chat Noir to your Ladybug.”

Marinette groans and shoves him. “You’d better not pun like he does or I’m tattling to Kagami.”

“I make no pawmises,” Adrien says with a grin that makes him look scarily like Chat Noir.

“Nope. That’s it. Get out. I can’t be seen with you.”

“You know, I never thought you two would actually get along,” Adrien says. “What exactly were you two fighting about?”

“Oh, you know,” Kagami shrugs. “How we were both crushing on you and thought the other was the spawn of Satan.”

Marinette chokes on her mouthful of André’s mint and raspberry ice cream (why raspberry? Last time it had been peach. Oh, well). How can Kagami just…up and say that? Doesn’t she have any shame?

“Oh, is that all?” Adrien laughs and licks his strawberry choc-chip and blackberry ice cream. “I thought it was something serious.”

“We eventually figured out that we were just a couple of idiots and it wasn’t worth fighting over a boy!” Marinette says in a high-pitched voice. Well, Kagami’s outed her, so she may as well roll with it. Although for some reason, she’s not mad at Kagami like she’d be if Alya just went up and told Adrien about her crush; probably because Kagami had as much to lose as her if Adrien took it the wrong way. And Kagami might not even have realised that you shouldn’t just up and tell your crush that you like them, considering her previous lack of social skills every other time Marinette’s talked to her.

“Good,” Adrien says. “I hate it when my friends are fighting.”

The tension in Marinette’s shoulders starts to melt away like ice cream on a hot day. So…Adrien doesn’t hate her for crushing on him. He’s not even making a big deal out of it. That’s…actually a relief.

“So, um…” Marinette forces out. “Are anyone you crush, Adrien? I mean – are you crushing on anyone?”

Adrien stares at her, then laughs. “Is that why you act weird around me? Thank god. I was worried that you still secretly hated me for the gum thing.”

“No! Never!” Marinette shakes her head wildly.

“Sorry, the gum thing?” Kagami says.

“Chloé put gum on her seat on my first day and she thought I’d done it because I tried to take it off,” Adrien says. “I managed to catch her after school and explain the misunderstanding but…I thought she still hated me for it and was just putting up with me.”

“Try the exact opposite,” Marinette groans. Her face must be just as scarlet as Adrien’s ice cream at this point, but she’s not dying or being horrifically rejected, so that’s something at least. “You gave me your umbrella and boom, it was…l-love at first sight.”

Kagami actually laughs long and loud at that, even throwing her head back. It’s so unlike her that both Marinette and Adrien are rendered silent as they stare at her in awe.

“Um…wow,” Marinette eventually says. “Have you checked her ice cream for drugs or something?”

Kagami hiccups and shakily licks her scoop of bright pink dragonfruit ice cream that’s neatly cushioning the same mint as Marinette’s. What that could mean, Marinette has no idea.

“There must be an akuma around,” Adrien says.

“You’re both awful,” Kagami says, her shoulders shaking with the last of her laughter. “And you’re both oblivious. So, Adrien, who is this girl you’re in love with if it’s not Marinette? I was always under the impression that Marinette was your target.”

Adrien blushes. “Don’t laugh, okay?” he says. “I’m in love with Ladybug.”

Beep. Beep. Marinette.exe has crashed. Adrien’s…in love with her? But not her? But yes her, he just doesn’t know it?

“Ladybug?” Kagami says. “Of course you’d fall for a superhero. Adrien Agreste can’t do anything by halves.”

“Well, she picked me to be a hero and I utterly trashed that opportunity, so I’ve probably got no chance with her,” Adrien says. “Maybe I need to focus on people a little closer to me.”

“You didn’t trash that chance,” Marinette squeaks. “You did your best every single time.”

Adrien frowns at her. “Every single time? How do you know which Miraculous Ladybug gave me? I Second Chanced every time I was out in public, so no one should’ve known.”

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckmissionabort –

“Hold on…” Also frowning, Kagami leans in so close that Marinette can count each freckle on her pale cheeks, and Marinette’s so flustered by Adrien tilting his head at her and Kagami’s breath ghosting across her face that she doesn’t realise what’s going on until Kagami’s moved her hair aside to expose her black earrings. Adrien’s frown changes into bulging eyes.

Fuck!

“Oh my god, really?” Adrien throws his free hand in the air. “Of course she’s you! Of course she’s you! How didn’t I see it before? The one girl who’s just as brave and kind as her and I didn’t even – I’m an idiot.”

“No arguments there,” Kagami says dryly. “Thank you for trusting me to be Ryuuko, by the way. And for the advice.”

Marinette’s brain has once again shut down. Two people know her secret identity. How could she be so stupid and let something like that slip? “You can’t tell anyone!” she finally manages to say. “My secret identity is vital!”

“I know,” Kagami sighs. “Hence why I can’t be Ryuuko again.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Adrien holds up his right hand to show the silver ring he’s always worn. Except…no way…could it be…it can’t…but…

“Oh my god.” Kagami pinches the bridge of her nose. “So, you’ve been in love with each other without even realising. This is like those awful soap operas that people seem to enjoy watching.”

“You and your stupid puns!” is the first thing out of Marinette’s mouth when she’s finally able to speak again. “All this time! You’re such a – such a dork!”

“I know!” Adrien looks like the cat that got the cream. “But you secretly love my puns, milady.”

That nickname coming from Adrien’s mouth? Stuff Marinette in a coffin right damn now. “As if,” she scoffs. “They’re awful.”

“Don’t you mean –”

“No!” Marinette and Kagami shout.

“– clawful?”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Marinette says. “You can have him, Kagami.”

“You claimed him first,” Kagami says. “He’s all yours.”

“How about we just forget about him and date each other?” Marinette wrinkles her nose.

“Sounds like a plan, Marinette.”

“Hey!” Adrien whines.

“It was so cool of you to organise this picnic for Lila, girl!” Alya says. She nudges Lila. “Right?”

Lila’s smile is thin and sour, like someone’s replaced the lemon tart on her plate with an actual lemon. “Yes, Alya. It’s very considerate of Marinette.”

“I just wanted to make up for our rough start!” Marinette says. It’s kind of funny how she’s just naturally slipped into being as sugary sweet to Lila as possible, but after seeing how it annoys Lila to no end that she can’t actually retaliate without looking bad, it’s gotten easier over the past few weeks. Huh. She so owes Kagami a massive box of pastries for this.

“Hey, guys!” Adrien waves as he approaches with Kagami. Lila gasps and smiles brilliantly.

“Adrien! You made it to my picnic!” she says.

“Of course I did,” Adrien says and sits down next to Marinette, pulling her to lean against him. Thank god she’s been able to equate Adrien and Chat Noir in her mind since their outing to get ice cream; now, when he touches her, her cheeks only grow warm and her brain thankfully doesn’t turn to mush. “And I brought a friend, if that’s okay?”

“Lila, right?” Kagami says with a smile that’s all teeth as she also sits down and pulls Marinette’s legs into her lap. “My name is Kagami. Adrien’s told me so much about you.”

“He has?” Lila smiles at Adrien, though Marinette’s certain that she can see a wariness beneath that smile. “All good things, I hope.”

“Trust me, I’ve heard nothing but the best information from him,” Kagami says. “I’m so glad that he’s found a girlfriend he’s really close with.”

“Girlfriend?” Alya scoffs. “Lila’s just a friend. You must’ve heard wrong or something.”

“Yes, of course,” Kagami says. “Sorry for my presumption. After that photo you took with him and the photoshoots…well, I seem to have gotten the wrong idea.”

“Lila told me once that Adrien would be hers, so I don’t blame you,” Marinette says and passes Kagami a plate of macarons. Kagami eagerly selects a strawberry one.

“Oh! I meant to say that he’d be my friend!” Lila says. Marinette covers her mouth to conceal her smirk.

“Really? I’m sorry for misunderstanding!” she says. “What with your condition and all…now it makes sense. I was a little confused what you meant by that, since you can’t really own a person, and I suppose that must have added to my bad feelings.” With a sweet smile, she adds, “But we’re friends now, so no harm done!”

“Yes,” Lila says. “Friends…”

“You’re so stiff!” Marinette says to Kagami, pulling her down so that she’s snuggling against Marinette’s side. “This picnic is all about relaxing!”

“In that case…” Adrien heaves so that Marinette’s sitting in his lap, and she shuffles around to lean back against his chest so that Kagami can lie across her thighs. Now Lila looks like she’s swallowed nails, while Alya’s eyes are bulging at the sight of her ship snuggling.

“Excuse me, girl, but when did this happen?” Alya says.

“A few weeks ago,” Marinette says. “Kagami and I ended up spilling to Adrien. Now we’re all good friends!”

Yeah. Very good friends. But the others don’t need to know that, especially since Marinette and Adrien are not only going slow with figuring out what’s between them, but Marinette’s also been unable to get the memory of Kagami’s breath across her face out of her head.

Oh, well. Such is life. And if navigating the prehistoric days of having both a girlfriend and a boyfriend is currently occupying her mind more than Lila, well, Marinette counts that as a win.

“I’m so happy for you!” Lila says with a wide, plastic smile. “And a little envious, I must say. After the drama with my boyfriend in Germany –”

“Mhm,” Alya says. “Not the one in Argentina?”

“Oh – no, this is a different one –” Lila splutters. Alya just shrugs and turns to offer the croissant plate to Rose and Juleka.

Okay. So, Kagami may have been right about this one. Sure, Lila might have thought that she was giving herself a free pass with her “condition”, but now no one really takes her seriously anymore. No one hates her or anything but, well…no one really seems to believe her or care about what she says either. Probably because every word out of her mouth is about her, and people are finally starting to realise that a) she doesn’t actually talk about anything else and b) her promises still haven’t come to fruition.

It does mean that no one’s actually apologised to Marinette, but oh well. C’est la vie. At least they’re not treating her like the devil anymore. And Lila’s largely harmless now, so that’s something as well. She can’t exactly get akumatised once a week or whatever as well; not without drawing undue attention to herself, since even Chloé hasn’t been akumatised more than three times, if one counts Heroes’ Day.

“Your parents’ pastries are magical,” Kagami says, reaching for a blueberry muffin. “They could melt even my mother.”

“My father would probably demand I marry her instantly,” Adrien snorts. “Not just for the pastries, but for her talent. “Snatch her up before Audrey Bourgeois, son!” he’d say if he actually spoke to me more than once a year.” He makes a face.

“You’ll have to defeat me for Marinette’s hand,” Kagami says dryly. Adrien smirks and boops her on the nose.

“Fatality,” he says, and Marinette snorts.

“You know what?” Alya throws her hands up. “I give up. I don’t understand you weirdoes. I’m gonna go find Nino and leave you three to be…whatever you three are.”

“Bye, Alya!” Marinette, Adrien, and Kagami chorus at her back. Now they’re left with Lila, who checks to make sure that no one’s looking before snarling at them.

“What are you three up to?” she hisses.

“What do you mean?” Adrien says. “I realised that I liked both Marinette and Kagami, and they liked me too.”

“And each other,” Marinette says, running her fingers through Kagami’s silky, dark hair.

“Why are you being so nice?” Lila jabs a finger at Marinette. “You hate me! And I know Kagami does too! Adrien, you’re supposed to be my –”

“Your friend?” Adrien says. “Of course I am, Lila. I did say that before our photoshoot, didn’t I?”

Marinette smiles at Lila, sugary sweet, not even finding satisfaction in how Lila’s bottom lip juts out and quivers like she’s going to throw a fit. Maybe the Marinette of a few weeks ago would have, but now? Honestly, she just pities Lila. Marinette’s the one with a boyfriend and a girlfriend, and she and Kagami are the ones that Adrien likes. So, she reaches over to pick up the plate of macarons and holds it out to Lila.

“Want a macaron, friend?” she chirps.

1K notes · View notes

todo-ho-ki · 3 years

Text

In honor of me never writing a single fucking word for the stories I’m still actually working on, I wanted to do something, anything at all, and obviously right now I’m fixating on haikyu instead of BNHA so welcome to...

Chances I’d Fight the Haikyu Boys and the Likelihood I’d Win

KARASUNO

Daichi 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 0/10 he’s a master of being cool and respectful he wouldn’t give me a reason to square up

Chances I’d win- Manz could crush me with his thighs alone one kick and I’m in the afterlife BUT he wouldn’t fight a lady so 1/10

Suga 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 1/10 a bitch might consider for money or something but otherwise. HEEEELLLL NO

Chances I’d win: suga seems lovely but Manz is as unhinged as his jaw will be when he swallows my arm whole after I try to punch him 2/10

Asahi 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: -3/10 he’s a soft boy I’d never fight him but +2 bc I might give him a gentle arm punch if need be. Overall -1/10

Chances I’d win: he only LOOKS scary but he wouldn’t hurt a fly tbh he’s probably scared of flies and looking like an asshole for fighting back 9/10 -1 point because Manz got REACH and COULD take me out if he wanted

Noya 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 4/10 he can be a little shit sometimes I stg

Chances I’d win: -1/10 he could jump on me and bite my jugular out I ain’t fuckin w/him. +2 points bc he’s a simp so he probably WOULDNT...but he COULD. Overall 1/10

Tanaka 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 6/10 he do be antagonizing sometimes and I swear if he SAY SOME SHIT TO ME...

Chances I’d win: mans could probably ACTUALLY win a fight hes full of energy and he could probs give me a look and I’d get scared 3/10 bc I don’t think he’d fight me either he’s a GENTLEMAN OK

Kageyama🏐

Chances I’d fight him: -50/10 bitch is SCARY and I know he’ll throw hands I’ve seen it

Chances I’d win: kageyama DO NOT GIVE A FUCK he’s broody in general and have you SEEN HIS SERVES he could slap me into next week(I’d thank him OOP) -370/10

Hinata 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: -500/10 Hinata is best boy I’d never lay a hand on him

Chances I’d win: I’d say 10/10 but I’ve SEEN that look in his eyes I don’t wanna know what it means so 6/10

Tsukishima 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: Manz knows all the buttons to press he’s a salty MF 8/10 but not 10/10 cuz he looks hot sometimes

Chances I’d win: he’d probably say something that makes me cry and id get distracted and he’ll walk away 2/10 cuz I could take him if I could see past the tears

Yamaguchi 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: -60,000/10 yams is a ray of SUNSHINE I could NEVER

Chances I’d win: here’s where things get tricky. He’s friends with Tsuki so he’s def got the sass and shit I think he’d be the one to secretly be able to THROW DOWN 3/10

NEKOMA

Kuro 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: -530,000/10 I LOVE him sm I simp too hard I can’t ruin that pretty face and that smirk NO ABSOLUTELY NOT

Chances I’d win: Manz is like a tree he could hold me at bay w/one of those buff-ass arms or crush my head with his thighs and since id let him, -6/10. minus three points cuz he’d charm me out of fighting

Kenma 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 7/10 BAD BITCH GOT A ATTITUDE, NASTY

Chances I’d win: Kenma’s spicy and he WILL fight but I got too much strength on him so 9/10 I think he’d pull out some moves before giving up

Lev 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 4/10 sometimes he’s just...REALLY stupid and arrogant which makes my eye twitch but minus 4 points bc he’s a big softie

Chances I’d win: his arm alone is longer than my body even if he couldnt fight he could swing blindly and accidentally hit the part of my brain responsible for consciousness in a panic. Also 4/10

Yaku 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: absolutely not I love his sassy attitude he be talkin shit sometimes 0/10 plus three points bc sometimes hed aim his tude at me and I STG

Chances I’d win: Manz is small but ready to pounce he’d jump on my back like a spider monkey and punch my skull till it caves in RIP me. 4/10 plus 2 points bc hed take it out on Lev instead

Fukunaga 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 0/10 Manz never did nothin to nobody

Chances I’d win: he’d probably say something so funny I’d die from lack of oxygen w/o ever getting a hit in 3/10 if I can breathe I can get his ass

SEIJOH

Oikawa 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: depends on the day but a solid 6/10 he’s a little bitch sometimes but we love to see it. I also don’t wanna be messin up that pretty ass face

Chances I’d win: if he REALLY wanted to he could serve me into a different reality but he wouldn’t fight unless he ABSOLUTELY had to so I could get his ass too. Pre time skip: 19/10. Minus 63 points because I KNOW 27 year old oikawa would WRECK MY SHIT and I’d say please sir may I have some more

Iwaizumi 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: yo, you out to DAMN MIND??? -100,000/10

Chances I’d win: look. LOOK. Iwa Chan’s biceps are bigger than my head I mean NOTHING to him. I’m but a pebble to a god. He got a 6’7” attitude cuz he can swing like a 6’7” man. He could probably pull his dick out once and obliterate me with the seismic aftershock of it hitting the ground. -1235/10 minus six points bc ID LET HIM KILL ME

Yahaba 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: solid 7/10 KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS

Chances I’d win: see, you’d THINK this would be where I’d have the upper hand but Manz manhandled mad dog and lived. He’d slam me into a wall until my soul leaves my body right where I stand 3/10 bc he be simpin. Minus 3 points because I’d enjoy it

Mattsun 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: pre time skip:0/10

post time skip: -57/10 I ain’t putting my hands on a face that pretty

Chances I’d win: I’m doomed. He’d give me one look and I’d cave. Im walking out the broom closet limping but not bc of a fight. -41/10

Kiyotani 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: we’ll go with a solid -5/10 for...reasons

Chances I’d win: if I actually stood up to him he’d freeze in place but he could slap me into a different country if provoked 1/10

Kunimi 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 0/10 we love a man who’s emotionally detached plus he’s hot tf

Chances I’d win: Manz would give up halfway through if he even indulged in the first place. 6/10 minus three points bc I’d win by default after he walks away

INARIZAKI

Kita 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: he’s a good boy -3/10

Chances I’d win: respectable guy but I have no doubt he’d rock my shit I’m ascending to the astral plane 1/10

Osamu 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: uh-uh. 0/10

Chances I’d win: he’s the aggressive twin. One flying kick to the heart and it’s across the gym and I’m dead as FUCK. 2/10 minus 2 points bc PLEASE put your hands on me sir

Atsumu 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: a soft 4/10 he’s a BRAT buuuuuut I love him so fucking much I’d let it go

Chances I’d win: he’s all bark and no bite. Srry bby but you’re gettin FOLDED I love you though. 88/10. minus 370 points bc please spend the rest of your life with me I could never hurt you 🥺

Aran 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: -5/10 he’s so sweet why would you fight him

Chances I’d win: he’d serve a volleyball into the back of my head and I take +10 damage from how cool it looks. Can fit my face in one hand probably. -43/10 minus ten points because of how cool he’d look killing me instantly

Suna 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 2/10 he’s a little shit too he’d make someone record it

Chances I’d win: he’d try to fuck me instead. It would work. 1/10 bc I’d slap him afterward but like, sexily

FUKURODANI

Bokuto 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 3/10 emo mode GOTS TO GO

Chances I’d win: his ass would pull me into it’s orbit and he’d use the opportunity to crush me with his thighs. -6/10. Minus 4 points bc what a FUCKING way to go please kill me

Akaashi 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 1/10 he’s intimidating you kidding me NO

Chances I’d win: I could take him if he’s distracted by Bokuto. 6/10 if he is, 1/10 if he’s not

Konoha 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: -3/10 we love a sassy boy

Chances I’d win: I’m not maiming a face that pretty -28/10 I’d get lost in his eyes tf

SHIRATORIZAWA

Ushijima 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: none and a half I couldn’t even look at him. -.5/10

Chances I’d win: one smack would knock my organs out of my body. Big boy+big body=big death even if he misses the aftershock will stop my heart -67/10 minus four points bc RAIL ME

Tendou 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 14/10 SQUARE UP BITCH

Chances I’d win: WELCOME TO HELL. YOUVE MADE A MISTAKE 36/10

Shirabu 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: 0/10 he’s too cool

Chances I’d win: he wouldn’t show. Too busy getting his hair cut. I win by default. 10/10 minus four points bc there would be no fight

Semi 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: I wouldn’t. 0/10. He’d give me the semi brow and I’d be down and out for the count. I’m not hitting a face that pretty.

Chances I’d win: 2/10. Minus three points bc he’d smash a guitar over my head, killing me instantly. Minus three more points bc I’d ask him to wear a leather jacket first

Goshiki 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: None. 0/10. His words and his bangs are as cool as ever.

Chances I’d win: he’d cry if I looked at him wrong. 86/10 but minus four points bc he’s baby

EXTRAS

Sakusa 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: surprisingly high. 7/10 bc a bitch got a attitude. Minus 8 points because he’s so fucking beautiful I don’t know if I could follow through

Chances I’d win: I’d just lick my hands before I started swinging and he’d leave. 8/10. Minus two points bc I think if he REALLY needed to square up he’d take me down in a fucking headlock until I pass out. Minus two more points because I’d ask him to squeeze harder.

Ukai jr. 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: that’s the wrong F word kids 😏. -34/10 besides I ain’t squaring up with a man that wears a headband like that

Chances I’d win: he probably could eat a bowl of nails for breakfast without any milk. -99/10. Minus 15 points bc I’d stop to ask him if he wants to finish this at my place

Hiragumi 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: why would you fight such a good, PRETTY boy? -5/10

Chances I’d win: he’d smile at me and I’d give up. -12/10

Takeda 🏐

Chances I’d fight him: I think he’d kill me honestly. Plus the boys would’ve never had a chance w/o him absolutely NOT -2/10

Chances I’d win: he’s hiding a demon from hell under that green jacket. -60/10

Terushima🏐

Chances I’d fight him: sheeeit I could try but his sexiness would leave me paralyzed. 1/10 if I look at enough pictures I could get past his fucking blonde undercut and tongue ring

Chances I’d win: he’d have my thighs around his head in 1.8 seconds. Will kill me with his tongue. -435/10

#haikyu!!#haikyuu boys #karasuno #Nekoma #Seijoh #FUKURODANI #Shiratorizawa

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