#doom x reader

[ukranianacearo]

(Doom x reader/mitsuri) 🙏

Can you do it? Please

Mitsuri!reader (wrote with feminins pronouns in mind)

Words: idk 😔

Genre: Fluff (angst at the end)

Tw: just mashle usual type of violence and mention of death, spoilers for KNY

Tag: @futuristiclanddinosaur

Synopsis: Misuri!Reader as Doom's lover

Author's note: I have only watched the first 2 or 3 episodes of KNY... So idk if this is good or bad 😔 I had to do a quick research on more of Mitsuri's character so I could write this better. Sorry for any mistakes and hope you enjoy! More under cut

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♪ | You probably knew each other from the time you got lost in the woods around his house when you both were younger.

♪ | He was surprised that someone as shy and timid as you entered the woods.

♪ | He talked to you a bit and then walked you to the main exit.

♪ | You apologized profoundly about wasting his time and that you would come to see him again with something to thank him for his favor.

♪ | He wasn't all that eager for that and probably thought that you were joking or not being serious, but he also didn't stop you.

♪ | Guy was so stunned when he heard from you again. And you brought him some homemade food (for the sake of the plot let's say you did pancakes) and a self made necklace.

♪ | You were already surprised when he didn't comment on your pink and green hair (you didn't know that he was just blind), but you were even more surprised when he accepted your gift. Although, somehow hesitant, but he accepted them nonetheless.

♪ | After that, you would just go out to those woods to hang out with him. It really didn't bother him much when you came to hang out and he was still training with his sword.

♪ | You actually were exited to see him practice and cheered him for being strong, mentioning that you also have strong physical abilities and that your wand is in your sword too.

♪ | He was intrigued and said that if you wanted to, you could train together some time. Man wanted to see how strong you were

♪ | He was definitely surprised when you could keep up with him. But it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

♪ | After that you guys just hanged out a lot, telling stories, training, etc.

♪ | He slowly, but surely, was getting a little big crush on you.

♪ | He loved every aspect of you; your caring and loving attitude towards your friends and family, your dedication to protect others, your fighting techniques, everything.

♪ | Your voice soothed his worries like nothing else.

♪ | Man was so grateful for you, he appreciated that you still were friends with him even after learning who his father is, how much people he had to kill, etc. He was surprised that when you learned that he was blind since birth, instead of being uncomfortable about it, you were even more amazed of his skills.

♪ | Imagine his shock when he learns that you were supposed to be wed with a man you barely knew.

♪ | He was more angry about the fact that the guy always critiqued you, the said guy seemed to have problem with everything you did and had: your hair, the fact that you train (in the guy's words, "that wasn't feminine), your strength, your personality, etc

♪ | He already was pissed enough at your parents for being shitty af, but now they not just allowed, but encouraged their own daughter getting married to a man who does nothing more but critique her? He was ready to add names on the list of people he killed.

♪ | He doesn't do it just because you said there was no need.

♪ | He might never have seen your hair, but he would stand on that it was pretty nonetheless, just like the rest of you.

♪ | He was surprised that one day, when you came to hang out as usual, you were crying. He didn't know how to console you, so he just patted your back and then rubbed circles on it with his hand.

♪ | That was enough to easy your feelings a little bit and eventually you calmed down and told him everything

♪ | You told him that the guy started critiquing you again as always, and at this point you couldn't handle it no more. You were very upset, but didn't want to do anything too dramatic, so you just took the papers that confirmed that you were engaged to him and destroyed them in his face. Then you just walked out the house.

♪ | Doom acted calm about it, but still let you express your feelings freely.

♪ | He knew it wouldn't be the best idea to let you in his house with his crazy siblings and his father, but he also couldn't leave you outside.

♪ | That was when you officially net his family. As a friend thought. Which wasn't Doom's favorite thing, but it wasn't the time to get upset about something like that. And Doom is a patient man, he can wait.

♪ | It probably was chaotic but most didn't pay a mind. Maybe Famine or Delisaster teased Doom, but mostly they didn't care. Innocent zero did say something along the lines of "Don't be carried away from your missions" or "Don't let the girl get to your head, you're just going to delude yourself and the girl". But if it didn't interfere with his plans he wouldn't give a damn. Maybe he'll use you to his advantage thought.

♪ | After some time, you were used to living there and opened up more. Doom was happy to know that you're living better than before, even though you now count as a criminal.

♪ | At some point you just left your hair have it's natural colour and started wearing clothes that you liked and not the ones your family deemed "more important".

♪ | I feel like, when Doom would realize about his feelings he wouldn't know what to do, but would be chill about it

♪ | Mostly, just because he knows that if he let's it shown you'll be in even more da ger than you already are

♪ | And also because he knows that neither Delisaster nor Famine will let him live it down.

♪ | Domina might start to see you as his older sister ngl.

♪ | I think Doom wouldn't be very touchy, but he still would like to have some physical contact. Might pat your head, or put his hand on your lower back, something like that.

♪ | Might at some confess to you, but I think that he won't. Just to keep you safer, I guess.

♪ | If he does confess and you accept him, he'll be very happy and will show it through a small smile.

♪ | Likes to play with your hair. It's so soothing to the touch and long. He likes to run his hand through it (and if he can't, he likes to twirl it or braid it).

♪ | If he confesses, it means that he is certain that no matter what happens, he won't let you die. Even if he has to give his live in exchange and even if it runs against his father's plans. He has respect for his father, but you were the first person to be there for him at all times, through everything, no matter what piece of new information about him you learned.

♪ | Now, if he doesn't confess

♪ | Oh boy

♪ | Regrets not telling you about his feelings when you die on the Eclipse Day.

♪ | You were fighting against an opponent who had an ability that contra attacked yours very good. And while you did defeat that person, you were left with serious injuries that lead to your death. Your two of three braids were cut shoulder length, one of your arms cut off and your leg injured.

♪ | He held you in his arms as you passed away. He didn't want to believe it, but he knew that you didn't have much time. You, too, knew it.

♪ | As your time alive grew shorter, you felt more easy, knowing that you'll die I his arms and not in the arms of the cold wind.

♪ | For the last time, you decided to chat with him. You made sure he promised that whatever he wanted to do next, he had to finish it in time.

♪ | Feeling brave in your last moments, you asked a question that was based off your assumptions.

You cough blood while trying the bravery and the words in you. Doom's big and warm hands held you bridal style as he was standing near the place where you fought the enemy. It felt comfortable, to know you'll pass away in this away: in the hands of the one you love the most, the one who helped you a lot and the one you wanted to see again. Suddenly, Doom felt your hand, that wasn't cut off, cup his cheek gently and weakly, as you had almost no energy already.

- "If we're going to be reborn..." - you started, coughing out a little bit more of blood. - "... Let me be your bride, okay?" - Doom felt his heart sink at your question. How could this feel so beautiful yet tragic? He didn't know, he didn't need to know. Because all he needed is a little more time with you.

- "If you let me have you, I'll find you and marry you in every one of the timelines. No matter how much time it will take me to find you, or how bloodied will be your or my hands, if you just let me be with you... I promise to put a ring around your finger." - Your heart flutters hearing his determined tone. You smile and let a loving sigh leave you mouth as you feel weaker. Doom notices that and his grip on your waist and lege tightens slightly. He doesn't want you to disappear now, and neither do you, but you're both aware that this is your last minute. Your hand let goes of Doom's cheek and slowly fall to your side as you pass away. Doom's heart sinked completely.

♪ | Don't worry, you're later revived with Innocent zero's spell after he got defeated by Mash.

♪ | As you met with Doom again, you couldn't handle the level of your happiness and just started crying while hugging Doom. Doom hugged you back.

♪ | Anyway, happy days in the prison lol <3 Idk how long his sentence is, but if you guys leave the prison after all, he'll be more than happy to spend the rest of your lives together <3

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This is my take on writing Mitsuri!Fem!reader, sorry if it isn't accurate enough 😭 anyway, I hope you enjoyed and bye bye xoxo

#anime #mashle #anime x reader #mashle x reader #Doom #doom mashle #innocent zero #manga #manga x reader #mashle magic and muscles #x reader #doom x reader #Doom x reader

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Doomslayer x child reader that finger paints his helmet because "he's always scary, but needs to be SPOOKY for Halloween" and the two words mean something very different to the little reader.

Doesn't actually make him look scarier, but the Crayola war paint must stay ON for battle!

NOTE: This is 100% fatherly platonic fluff

.......

To make a long story short, the Doomslayer finds you among the wreckage of a city on earth, and you travel with him while he protects you from demons (kinda like Child!Marceline and Simon from Adventure Time post-Mushroom War).

Having been a father himself once, he finds bonding with you to come almost naturally.

Sure, he doesn't speak much and makes you stay in the Fortress of Doom (which has very little enrichment besides comic books and video games) for your own safety, but he cares a lot for you.

And you're very brave despite the constant demonic threats. Thanks to him, you've never been afraid of a single monster.

You saw him squish an Imp's head like a grape once in the Ripatorium and thought it was the coolest thing in the world.

When the Halloween season comes around, it's seldom celebrated on Earth anymore (of course, nobody wants to go around dressed like scary demons when the actual ones have been murdering billions).

But you, however, still loved the holiday and took it upon yourself to make something "spooky" for the Slayer..

By fingerpainting one of his helmets to make it look like a ghoulish monster, using some Crayola paint he found for you in a destroyed toy store.

You showed your finished work to Samuel, and he thinks it looks utterly ridiculous.

But he opts to humor you, knowing the Slayer would have his head if he ever made you cry.

"So you believe this new..."cosmetic" will make him appear scarier?"

"Well..he's already scary, but he needs to be spooky scary for Halloween." You explain to the robot proudly. "Those are two verryyyy different things, Sammy."

"...yes, I suppose they are." He sighs

When the Slayer's ready for his next mission, you give him the personalized "ghoul helmet", and he stares down at it for a few moments.

Samuel refuses to believe he'll put it on.

But the typically rage-fueled godlike man looks back at you. His gaze remains stoic, yet his eyes were gentle and warm.

"Very spooky."

That's all he says as he pats your head with approval, before donning the final piece of his armor and going through the portal.

On the battlefield, he eviscerates every demon in his path, but he takes great care not to get too much blood and/or guts on his helmet..

He'd hate to ruin all of your hardwork.

#clanask #anonymous #doom x reader #doom eternal x reader #child reader #fluff #platonic #headcanons #halloween

[elvestoneanzelote1]

Hi!! Can you write doom x fem! or gn! reader?

𝘈:𝘯- 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰! 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴... 𝘛𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘭𝘦 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺... 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘬𝘪.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴... 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦...𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘵.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘋𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘹 𝘨/𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳.

𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘭𝘦: 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴

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Doom, the eldest son of Innocent Zero.

He is wary of his younger brother Famine, that what Cell war said.

Beside the point. He doesn't like picking up fights on the weaks ...

How you and Doom met was through Innocent Zero who also revised you through a corpse.

You remember your past life leading things to be complicated for you.

Unlike you, Cell war proclaimed you as his sibling.

Because you both were brought from death through Innocent zero blood. And the fact you were revived latter then Cell war which led him to take the elder brother role for you.

You were practically weary of the brothers but somehow Doom made a very impactful impression on you.

At least he was calm and barely get angry

Compared to his brothers.

You would rather not be the fact of his anger.

He is ruthless in battle after all.

Both you and him took time to get along as your sole purpose was to serve innocent zero that is what your life purpose is.

"...do you know where..." His words paused as you blink twice.

"Are you searching for your sword?"

"Yes..."

"..."

"..."

"I will find it and bring it to you"

With a nod of approval from Doom, you left the room.

Personally, you don't tag along with Doom he was the one who called you out to tag along with him.

And with out per notice you literally act like his maid of sort.

You let out an audible sighed while dragging yourself in search of his sword of where he kept or perhaps someone have misplace it.

"...oh, Y/n~" a voice called out to you as you stopped on your way taking notice of familiar purple eyes male with jester clothing.

You bowed and greeted him as he waved his hand off.

"Bleh~! No need to bow! Either way I need your help on chaining some victims I found!"

"Apologise... Sir Famin... I am searching for Sir Doom sword"

His eyes narrowed as he towered you.

"Are you rejecting to help me hmm??" His words held malice as you shook your head quickly.

"I... I will help you after I find Sir Doom Sword"

"His swords doesn't cost a ton shouldn't he get a new one? It is getting rusty after all! And I don't often need your help so you gotta obey it!" He said pulling you through your arm before you protest you felt someone kept a hand on your shoulder as you gaze up to see Doom.

"Famin do not disturb them while they are given the task" Doom said as Famin chuckle.

"Brother! You often take their time it is no fun! They are meant to serve all of us when needed you shouldn't always take them!" Famin argued as Doom shook his head slightly.

Been calm as possible but.

You knew it was soon going to turn chaos as their hold on you tightens.

'Why am I stuck with the siblings quarrel' you thought to self.

Thankfully it ended quickly by whatever force came to let them leave you alone.

Well it was innocent Zero who bailed them off.

You bowed lower to him as his eyes focus on you with a hint of amusement.

"It is good to see you getting along with my sons"

"..."

"I hope everything is going well?" He asked as you don't know what to say as you nod mildly

He hummed in thought as he smile slightly.

"Come with me after you do my sons task by 30 minutes... I need a massage after all" he said as he left as you bowed saying you will.

'Damn it... Why am I even task in this stuff! Like a maid/butler!!! Whereas Cell wars is enjoying delicious food from The Academy cafeteria.' You were so jealous of Cell wars who is likely taking vacation in your eye as you are suffering with doing innocent zero sons task and even his task like their servant.

'Ah I wish I was never revived in the first place!' Your thoughts halted as you walk on the halls as you took notice of Doom sword.

You heavily dragged it with you as it was heavy.

You curse into your head as you finally reach his room huffing.

"Oh your back"

"Yea... I mean yes Sir doom"

He approaches you as you were glad you finally not going to hold the giant sword only to felt his hand hold on your free one.

"Have you try to find out who have hurt tour hand in the past?" He asked as his traced on the visible scar which was deep. Perhaps some flesh was missing from the scar itself.

"I... Did"

His hold tighten slightly as he asked who it was.

"...well it was just an accident during childhood an old bully did it... Beside it they must have been death too"

Doom frown slightly as his other hand was on top of your head.

Your eyes widen slightly as he pat your head.

"Those who have hurt you... Their generations will face the wrath"

"Huh?"

You didn't understand what he meant... You were too afraid to asked him.

His aura says it all after all... He was anrgy.

And for the first time... He was angry for you.

You want to argue that the generation of the old bully has nothing to do with you now.

But for now you keep your mouth shut.

As you don't want to be directed of his anger on you.

Until he calm down.

You have to keep your mouth shut.

Because even if you died once... Who wants to die again gruesomely?.

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A:n- that's all! Take care good night/morning.

#mashle magic and muscle x reader #mashle x reader #mashle #mashle magic and muscles x fem reader #mashle magic and muscles #doom #doom x reader #doom x g/n reader #Mashle doom #innocent zero #Famin #mashle famin #mashle innocent zero #mashle magic and muscles doom #mashle magic and muscles doom x g/n reader #character x g/n reader #magic #revuved y/n

[fellow-anime-weeb927]

Mashle scenarios (Doom, Famin, Delisaster and Domina) (might be ooc?)

Requested by: @dominaaaaaaaa

Doom

I feel like he would just stare(?) at whatever you’re doing

He may not seem like it but he’s actually quite protective

He definitely makes sure you’re protected at all costs

You could be doing your favourite hobbies and he would be silently admiring you, complimenting you in his thoughts

Sometimes he smiles a teensy bit when being next to you

If someone dares to hurt you, oh boy they don’t know what situation they’ve put themselves into (they probably went missing the next day I wonder why)

Overall, looks intimidating but caring. A pretty nice guy if you ask me

Famin

He may be a sadistic and twisted man but when it comes to you, he acts and treats you better than the others (I feel like he favours you more secretly but he would never admit that-)

Of course he still has the sass when interacting with you but he’s not that mean to you

Like he would tease you from time to time but just not that much

He definitely asks you to play cards with him when bored (if he’s in a good mood, he might let you win a few times)

When someone treats you wrongly, he will make sure that they won’t see the light of day ever again

He is constantly fighting with Doom so sometimes you have to drag him out of them

Delisaster

Another sassy brother oh boy- prepare for his teasing (if you guys have a height difference, ‘Hey shortie, how’s the weather down there?’) and joking (‘can’t believe you’re THAT dumb’)

Since he cares about his looks and his skin, he plays with your hair and style it or does your skincare from time to time

If you’re an obedient person, he would definitely brag and convince you to break the rules, cause some trouble or even start fights with other people

He also makes puns and jokes for fun (if you enjoy them, he might try some different ones to make you laugh) (if you don’t, then he will be telling more of them just to see your annoyed face, it’s just too amusing!)

But he also respects your boundaries if he’s going too far

Domina

Poor boy he doesn’t deserve to be treated like this oh god- if you show him that you care about him, he would be surprised

Like his eyes are widened, his jaw dropped a bit, wondering if was dreaming or not

He may be calm on the outside but on the inside, he is extremely angry

On the other hand, if he was with you, he feels…calmer than usual like, his anger just faded away

If you’re REALLY lucky, he might pat your head-

I feel like he would tease you but that’s quite rare

He would definitely wonder why you care about him so much, he just doesn’t know why

Please treat him like an actual person, care for him and be grateful to have him please!!

Ok I’m done here idk what to type sorry that it took so long. And some of them might not make sense but nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed! Bye~

#mashle x reader #mashle scenarios #Doom x reader #Famin x reader #Delisaster x reader #Domina x reader

[vodika-vibes]

Can something fluffy and sweet be written up for Commander Doom please?

Snowed In

Summary: A sudden blizzard leaves you and your boyfriend snowed in.

Pairing: Commander Doom x Reader

Word Count: 756

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So, Wookieepedia says that Doom's personality is "Wise and loyal" which is great, apparently he's a freaking owl. Anyway, I made up the entirity of his personality based on what I think someone who chose the name would be like! I hope you like it!

Divider by Saradika

You pull your knees up to your chin as the door to the garage opens and Doom steps in from the cold. You watch him stomp the snow off his boots, and then strip off his thick winter gear.

He rips off his snow cap, and tosses it on the bench you keep all of your winter gear in, and then he focuses his attention on you.

“It’s still snowing.” He says, deadpan.

You dissolve into giggles, and clamp your hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. “I told you it was,” You remind him with a grin, once your giggles calmed down.

He has a grin on his handsome face as he crosses the room and settles on the couch next to you, “Well, everything is shut down, but I did move the generator from the barn to the garage, just in case.”

You shift so you’re able to lay your head on his shoulder, “Ooh, my hero.”

“Well, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I made you get up and go out in that?” He gestured out the window, where the storm rages.

You lean up and kiss his cheek, “Thank you.” You murmur, “Though I am sorry that you won’t get back to your barracks tonight.”

“Oh no. I have to spend the night with the love of my entire life. Whatever will I do.” Doom says very, very dryly.

You laugh and press your face against his shoulder, “You’re impossible.” you say fondly.

“And yet you still love me.”

“I do,” You move so that you’re straddling his lap, and you cup his face with your hands, before lazily trailing your fingers into his curls, “I love you so, so much.” You murmur, almost thoughtfully.

Doom rumbles low in his chest, and his eyes slide shut. “How much do you love me?” He asks, a small smile playing on his lips as he slips into the familiar game. 

You hum thoughtfully, “More than there are stars in the sky.”

“Hm, that’s an awful lot of love.” Doom replies as he relaxes under your touch, but he opens his eyes to look into yours, “How do you manage to fit so much love in such a tiny package?” His hands slide up your sides and then cup your face to pull you into a very gentle kiss.

“It compresses a lot.” You reply with a happy sigh as his lips ghost against yours, and then trail up your cheek to rest against your temple.

Doom chuckles and moves his lips back to yours to tempt you into a heart melting kiss. He always kisses you like you’re the most precious item he’s ever held. And he holds you like you’re made of the finest crystal.

Your arms slide around his neck as you melt into his kiss. 

He’s not forceful, your Commander. He doesn’t demand or push, not with his words or with his kisses. And you’re comfortable with him, knowing that he would never pressure you into something that you might not be ready for. 

You also know, however, that he wants. 

You can tell by the way his fingers flex and the way his gaze lingers on you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. 

And you want also.

Just as much as he does.

And yet, somehow, neither of you have ever found the time to actually fall into bed with each other. A matter of a lack of time, rather than a lack of desire. After all, you both work far, far too much.

But with the storm outside, and the fact that he can’t leave-

Well.

Your hands slide from his shoulders, down his chest and over his stomach. “Doom,” You murmur against his lips. 

“Hm?” He leans into your feather light touch, and releases a shaky breath when he feels your cool fingers against the warmth of his stomach.

“Come to bed with me?” Your voice is soft as your hands trail up his stomach under his shirt.

He sighs softly, though it’s a noise of relief rather than annoyance, and he catches your lips in one more kiss, a deep and passionate kiss that has you arching against him and moaning into his mouth.

“Hold on to me, baby.” He murmurs against your lips, and the moment your arms hook securely around his neck, he stands, holding you as though you weigh nothing.

You grin against his lips, “Love you, Doom.”

“I love you too.” He replies, “Let me show you how much.”

#star wars #tcw #commander doom x reader #doom x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #answered asks

[yanderelovlies]

So I saw what @/disgusdead said about Yandere Doomslayer and I can't help, but agree.

I whole heartily believe that he would never PHYSICALLY hurt you but MENTALLY manipulate you. He knows his strength, and he knows if he loses it, it could mean your death. SO! What better way to manipulate a darling then to play into their fears, or reward them when their being good? He is a man of a few words, but he can use your fears to keep you right where he wants you.

When your being good he will treat you like the angel he knows you are. Sweet serenade from his multiple guitars, some free time from your cage, and anything you sweet heart could ask for within his reason 💚

#x reader #yandere x reader #vivi talks #doom series #doom eternal #doom slayer #doom slayer x reader #doom x reader

[mortal-mayhem]

I'm home!

I'm gonna take some time to settle in, but go ahead and send in your headcanon requests!

They are still very open!

#rottmnt x reader #lmk x reader #inscryption x reader #toh x reader #doom x reader #reader insert #sonic x reader #fnaf x reader #monkie kid x reader #sun wukong x reader #macaque x reader

[utterlyazriel]

let me keep you company

a/n: a wee break from the doom & gloom of wtssf! it's unedited so i want no flack for that thank u <3 enjoy <3 wc: 5.1k whoops synopsis: You're studying in Velaris and a certain Shadowsinger catches your eyes in more than one way. It takes a while to realise the shadow keeping you company means more than you expect.

For the record, you had never met a Shadowsinger before.

You'd never even seen one. Sure, you’d read about them briefly in your studies and almost every Fae in Prythian had heard about them in whispers and rumours.

Rumours that increased more so when a Shadowsinger rose to become a hand for the Highlord, his own personal spy. Then became the spymaster of the entire Night Court for the next Highlord.

But beyond gossip and unfinished chapters within the scripts of your libraries, the knowledge of Shadowsingers is far limited. They’re rare. For all you know, Shadowsinger’s are a ghost— moving as a shadow, disappearing in and out of the darkness of the world.

You had never met a Shadowsinger before—so it makes sense that you hadn't an ounce of a clue what to expect.

Staring at him now, 6 feet something of pure muscle, you're a bit embarrassed at your own surprise.

Because he's probably— no definitely— the most beautiful Fae you've ever laid eyes on. His hair is tousled and dark, his glorious tan skin that's mostly hidden beneath the black of his fighter leathers, and his amber eyes that laid on you for only one long moment. Breathtaking is the only adequate word for him.

All that beauty and he's a Shadowsinger.

And it's not like you thought he wouldn't be like, well, any other Fae. But also... you kinda did? Mother, you should've known Freya was tricking you when she said they were all just shadow-y corporeal forms.

But she's also not entirely wrong there. There are dozens of wispy shadows that hover around him in constant motion, dipping and flying around his shoulders and if you look close enough, you can see how he seems to ripple at the edges. Shadows blur the edge of his very being.

You wonder if he can disappear into them all together, if that was one of the abilities granted with them. Does he control them? He must, you think, if the title is Shadowsinger.

But looking at him now, his beautiful face turned to face the Highlord you should definitely be listening to, they flit about almost absentmindedly, as though they have a mind of their own.

One curls up by his ear and you watch it, fascinated, more and more questions springing up in your mind— what do they feel like on skin? Do they make any noise? Is that what they're doing now? Talking to—

A sharp elbow jabs into your side, making you jump.

Your head whips to the side, an instinctive scowl almost overtaking your face before you plaster it over with a smile, realising your mistake. Your mentor, Sergei, clears his throat and smiles awkwardly ahead at Rhysand. You blink and take another moment to realise you've been asked a question.

"I'm— I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" You try not to sound as mousy as you feel but the question comes out as a squeak anyway. He is the Highlord of the Night Court after all. You suddenly feel very foolish for being so easily distracted.

Thankfully, Rhysand regards you with an easy smile. He's leaned back in his chair, relaxed, and his violet eyes dance with humour as he flicks his gaze over to where you had just been staring.

"That's alright. Azriel is a piece of eye candy, I can't blame you for staring," He all but purrs, a hint of mirth pulling at his lips as he casts another glance at his Spymaster. You're taken aback by the casualness of his words.

Rhysand continues. "I was only saying that for the duration of your stay, you'll be hosted in one of my homes, the House of Wind. You aren't afraid of heights, are you?"

A smidge of fear pinches at your stomach because, honestly, you aren't overly keen on the idea. But you know better than to turn down the generosity of a Highlord.

You take another glance at the wings of his Spymaster and General and pray that it's not too high up.

"Not... much." You answer honestly.

There's a chuckle from the side of the room and your head swings around at the noise. It's not the Shadowsinger, though he looks as though he's politely trying not to smile, his chin ducked. It's the General, just as beautiful as his brother but in that more rugged way.

He flexes his wings out a bit, showing off their mighty wingspan. "We'll rid you of that fear in no time."

You try for a smile but it might be closer to a grimace.

"Fantastic." You say, not managing to put all your enthusiasm into the word like you hoped.

Another sharp jab of Sergei's elbow in your side. The Shadowsinger, Azriel, huffs a quiet laugh, his amber eyes flashing up to steal another look at you. You try your best not to fluster.

It's going to be a long two months.

—

As Sergei's apprentice, you're expected to shadow him through his allowed time within Velaris.

Which means if he goes to the library, you go to the library.

There's just one problem; the library is down in the city and your temporary home is up in the mountain. The quickest way down is with wings.

Rhysand— or just Rhys as he had told you to call him— had relayed the information that you could ask either Cassian or Azriel to escort you if you didn't wish to take the stairs.

Cassian, the General, had been the one to fly you down and back the first couple of times you had asked and you weren't in any particular hurry to relive the experience.

Cassian was nice and he was more than friendly but seemingly incapable of understanding any fear of heights. You weren't sure if that was just the only way to fly— swooping and dropping fast enough to make you shriek— but it certainly seemed to be Cassian's way.

Which leaves you with the option of either asking the Shadowsinger or taking the stairs.

You get down about two hundred steps before you start to regret your decision. But, also, how in the Cauldron were you supposed to ask him to take you? (Never mind that you had asked Cassian quite easily, albeit very nervously.)

Oh, hi Shadowsinger who I can't stop staring at for both your abilities and your handsome face—care to sweep me into your arms and carry me places?

As if, you snort to yourself.

You take the thousand stairs all the way to the bottom and trot towards the enormous library, pretending your thighs aren't aching with overuse or that you're out of breath. Thankfully, the library itself isn't too far from the House of Wind, carved into the same side of the mountain.

As expected, Sergei is less than pleased with your tardiness.

"Sorry," The word rushes out of you in a wheeze, probably too loud for the library, as you scuttle in the entrance. A few priestesses turn their heads to look at you and you cringe, raising your hands in apology. "Sorry, I'm sorry,"

You focus back on your mentor and try to catch your breath, all while you explain. "I took the stairs and it took—" You huff out a breath. "—way longer than I thought."

Sergei's face softens a bit at your explanation, his face taking on a pitiful smile. "Still not enjoying the flying?"

"You are?" You ask in response. The thought of Sergei, your old-Fae mentor, swept up in Cassian's arms as he dips and dives makes you chuckle just a bit.

Sergei shakes his head as if to change the topic of conversation, deciding you've wasted enough time already. He turns, beginning to head further into the library and you follow behind him closely, eager to brush over your early morning fumble. The cavernous structure within the mountain yawns out ahead of you and you get all of two moments to wonder just how deep down it goes, when—

"You did not ask for a ride this morning."

Azriel steps up beside you, seemingly from nowhere, his steps falling in time with yours with ease. You jump, startled, and your footsteps falter for a moment. You're relieved to say that you only make one embarrassing noise in your surprise.

"I— oh, it's— I mean, I just..." You trail off, feeling flustered. "...like to walk."

You chance a glance up at him. He's wearing that same polite expression from yesterday, as though he's trying not to laugh and you get too caught up in the swirlings of his shadows to remember to be properly embarrassed. Both of you walk in tandem behind Sergei, slowly descending into the lower levels of the library.

"If you insist," He says, his voice low. It sends something warm down your spine and you pray he doesn't notice how your body temperature is definitely climbing.

His amber eyes pin you with another look, his lips twitching into a small smile. "However, if Cassian is giving you trouble, I would be happy to provide a smoother ride."

You flounder for a moment. You don't want to get anyone in trouble.

"I— he's not giving me trouble," You stammer.

Azriel smiles a little wider as if he can tell how polite you're trying to be. He slows to a meander and you realise only after you walk past him, it's because Sergei has stopped himself, turning down one of the many aisles.

You skid yourself to a halt and turn back, praying your flaming face isn't as obvious as it feels. You're not entirely sure if Azriel is accompanying you today but you're sure that Sergei would've mentioned it if he was.

You dip your head in a strange, awkward bow motion. Then point to the aisle Sergei disappeared into.

"I'll be... going this way."

Azriel's smile grows, like you've told a joke, and he ducks his head. He peers up at you through his dark lashes and you wonder if anyone's ever told him how damn beautiful he is. Probably. You're probably the last in a long line of people. Mother, his eyes though.

"If you don't wish to make the hike the other way," He murmurs.

He extends one of his hands and you watch the dozen shadows swarm around it, one of them separating from the pack to dive to the ground. It shoots forward and spins around your ankle, almost happily. "Just let the shadow know. I would be happy to assist."

When you look back up, he’s already gone without a sound. You try not to look so surprised— you’ve seen someone winnow before but you’re almost certain that the way Azriel moved about silently was something else altogether.

“Y/n!” Sergei’s voice echoes down the shelves, reminding you that you’re still late. You throw a quick glance around to check but it's fruitless; you can’t see the Shadowsinger anywhere.

You turn and bustle down the aisle quickly, not wanting to keep Sergei any longer. It takes only a second to notice the sole, black shadow that dances along behind you.

Guess you have company.

—

Okay, so, the shadows are definitely their own little guys.

Mainly because you can’t imagine how Azriel would be controlling them when he’s nowhere in sight.

And this one shadow is being awfully helpful.

The first time you drop your quill, knocking it to the ground as you lean over one of the many intricately carved desks, trying to reach another book, you don’t even notice it fall to the ground.

In fact, you have no idea how many times it’s picked up your fallen quill that you’ve undoubtedly knocked over countless times— only that it had given you the fright of your life to have it hover before your face, gripped only by the wispy shadow Azriel left with you.

“Holy shit!” You gasp, your loud voice echoing in the quietness of the library.

Sergei's head whips up, his eyes narrowing at the intruding sound with evident disapproval. You quickly snatch the quill out of mid-air and sink down in your seat. Gods, the echoes in here were doing you no favours.

“Sorry,” You whisper. Your eyes dart down to the shadow that retreated to your side, flickering around your ankle more wildly. “Er, thanks.”

It feels a bit silly to give thanks to something you’re not sure can hear you. But you figure if it can pick up your quill, you're better off using your manners.

Sergei gives you a somewhat bewildered look and you try to appease him with an awkward smile. It works enough for him to continue his work but not without one more lingering glance of worry in your direction. Great. You're talking to shadows and your old-man mentor thinks you're a bit nuts.

The shadow continues its helpful endeavours, following you when you head down different aisles at Sergei's request. It dances across the shelves, dissolving occasionally just to puff back up somewhere else, pulling your attention this way and that. It's playful. Friendly.

You deduce by the end of the day that you know even less about Shadowsinger's than you had thought. The abilities and personality of just one shadow are uncanny; like a silent friend keeping you company. You imagine that Azriel rarely gets lonely with as many as he has. Maybe you'll ask him.

When Sergei and you wind back up the staircases and he dismisses you for the evening, heading into the city for his own further business, you stand at the mouth of the library and ponder if you'll be brave enough to summon the Shadowsinger.

The shadow is still with you, circling your wrist absently. You peer down at it and think of all those stairs. Somewhat nervously, you raise your hand and try to be as casual as possible about talking to a shadow on your hand.

"Hi." You start, trying not to feel foolish. "Um, well, I guess I'm done for the day. Could— could you, if he's not busy that is, uh, let Azriel know? I don't mind waiting if he is."

The shadow zips off barely before you can finish your sentence and your head swings to watch it go, disappearing somewhere to your left.

You can't help but be a little amazed at its speed—it must be an incredible networking system to have a thousand little spies running around for you. No wonder almost all Shadowsingers tend to end up in the same line of work, you think to yourself, still peering in the direction of the shadow when—

"Y/n."

Even though he's said your name soft and quiet, Azriel still manages to take you by surprise. You jump and turn, all in one motion.

"Mother!" Your hand holds over your chest, relief curling in at the sides as your fright ebbs away. "That was fast."

"You called," Azriel responds, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. He gives you an almost shy smile.

It makes you fluster a bit and you gesture to the exit awkwardly and wordlessly, if only so you don't have to come up with a response to his intense and endearing answer.

Together, you wander out from the library and creep towards the edge of Velaris. It's a beautiful city and more than deserving of its title, especially when viewed from the House of Wind. You turn and cast your eyes up the mountainside, your familiar nervous fear pitching up from your stomach.

Then you look at the warrior beside you, tall enough that he's got what feels like more than a head's height on you, with his wings reaching above even his own head. His jaw is sharp and his eyes are already on you as your gaze trails up his face. Fuck. He's really pretty.

Now you're nervous for an entirely different reason.

"We can still take the stairs if you wish," He says, his hand sweeping back to the path you had followed along this morning. His shadows move with his hands, a black vortex that whirls around and around. "I'd be more than happy to keep you company."

Mother, he's not helping you in the slightest, being so perfectly nice to you. You regard the stairs and think back to how many hours it took before your thighs stopped aching—and that was on the way down.

"No, we can- we can try flying again." You say, nodding to yourself as if it'll help quell your fear. It takes another moment to realise that means you'll be bundled up in his strong arms, held against his broad chest and you feel a little shiver run through your body at the thought.

Azriel notices it too, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "You're sure?" He checks.

You nod, not meeting his eyes, trying to keep your nerve. Flying is already something you're not keen on. Flying whilst being swept up in the arms of a Shadowsinger who you think is the most beautiful Fae you've ever seen? You send a silent prayer to the Mother that you don't do something embarrassing, like puking down his front.

"Let me know if you're uncomfortable at any time," He says softly and then he bends his knees slightly, one of his scarred hands resting on your lower back as the other scoops beneath your knees. He lifts you as though you weigh nothing.

It's impossible not to flush as you get nestled against his firm chest, your hands panicking for a moment as you try to think of a normal place to put them. Around his neck? On his chest? Either of them feels far too intimate for a man you've known only a week.

"You don't have to but I would suggest holding on," Azriel comments with a smile, his chest vibrating with the words. You nod, agreeing with him, but don't make a move to do so, only holding your hands out in front of you to indicate you're not sure where to put them.

The shadows adorning his shoulders move on their own, their friendly presence easing your nerves as they slither down to circle around your wrists. There's a gentle tug and you let them move your hands til they're wrapped around Azriel's neck, moving you much closer in the process.

Gods, your faces are close together. Another couple of inches and you could probably press your lips to his perfect ones—a thought that makes you fluster all over again. Was he getting prettier every time you saw him? For not the first time, you thank the Mother that it was Rhys with the daemaeti gift and not Azriel.

"Ready?" He checks, which is sweet. Cassian had just shot up into the sky the first time, without any warning.

You grip your arms around his neck a little tighter and then nod. "Ready," You say, quieter than intended.

You catch just a moment of Azriel's demure smile, your heart swooping at the sight, before you're both launched into the sky with one flap of his wings.

The noise that escapes you is one you're less than proud of, a squawky sound noise of panic that you bury into Azriel's neck. You expect him to laugh like Cassian had, not meanly but playfully, but instead Azriel's arms just tighten around you. As if he was assuring you that he would not let you fall.

By the time you're up at the House of Wind, Azriel making a far more graceful descent than his brother, you're less freaked out and more ready to point some accusatory fingers in the face of the Night Court's General.

That bastard had been fucking with you! The flight with Azriel proved as much, considering how much calmer and smoother it had been. You couldn't help but say as much as you were placed down from Azriel's hold, glad to be back on solid ground.

"I have some words for Cassian, Mother above," You ramble, straightening out your rumpled clothes from the flight. "Did he think I was kidding when I said I was afraid?"

Azriel smiles at your fieriness, his shadows calmer than they were in flight, moving about lazily. His eyes take a fleeting glance at the house behind you before focusing intently back on you.

"Cassian can have a strange sense of humour at times. He means well." He says. Then he grins. "I should like to see you tell him off— not enough people do."

You hmph. "Maybe I will."

You suddenly realise the closeness between you and Azriel, close enough to feel the warmth of his body. His scent of cedar and mist swirls around you, tantalizing and alluring in a way you've never known before. You take a step back to contain yourself.

"I—uh, well, thank you very much." You say, as sweet as you can. "For the ride."

Your eyes catch on one of his dozen shadows and you smile, observing them for a moment. "And the shadow. It was excellent company."

Azriel brightens, an expression of surprise crossing his face before he schools it away. He smiles, brazen and breathtaking. When he speaks, he sounds a little disbelieving. "You like them?"

You nod quickly, noticing how one of his shadows has snuck off again and circulates your ankle speedily. You laugh at the ticklish feeling of it against your skin.

"They're incredible." You breathe, meaning every word. "I imagine you must've ge—"

"Apologies, y/n." A smooth voice cuts in, Rhys stepping up somewhere behind you and stealing both of your attention. He dressed in more casual clothes than you last saw, but not quite Azriel's fighting leathers. "Azriel here is needed for some brief business. Do you mind if I borrow him?"

The way he poses the question, as if Azriel is yours, does something wonky to your heart. You flounder for a moment, stepping back and waving your hand in the direction of the Shadowsinger.

"Of- of course, by all means." You trip over the words and hope you don't sound too eager to escape his company. That couldn't be more untrue.

You turn back to Azriel and fix him with a smile, hoping it's not as nervous as you feel. "I'll... see you around?"

Azriel steals a glance to the side where Rhys awaits before he nods with another reserved smile. Hold on, is that pink on his cheeks?

"Let me know if you need any more help getting to and from the library. I'd be happy to assist."

And then with a quick nod to you, he walks off to join Rhys, his wings tucked in tight, careful to not nudge you. You watch them go, unable to stop yourself from letting your eyes wander down. Damn, all that training did wonders. What was that saying? Hate to watch 'em go, love to watch them leave.

Ahead, Rhys abruptly laughs and peers back over his shoulder, letting you exactly how well you had shielded those thoughts. You flush and scurry into the house as if it'll save you from the embarrassment of what's just happened. You only hope he won't pass the message on to Azriel.

—

It continues like that for the rest of the week.

Azriel carries you down the height of the mountain and leaves you with a promise that if you need anything, you can tell the shadow and he'll come to find you.

The shadow keeps its usual playful company. Beyond retrieving your dropped quills, it helpfully turns the pages of books for you. When you're focused on what you're writing, it nudges back any loose strands of hair. Once it even brings you a flower from Mother knows where. One single Lily of the Valley, left resting on your desk.

It makes you wonder; are all Shadowsinger's shadows like this? You can't help but imagine these niceties are shaped by Azriel's own soft nature.

Today, whilst you study in the vast caverns of the library, you get an unexpected visitor.

As you take your time scanning through the books in one of the vast aisles, you realise the Fae coming down from the other end of the aisle is none other than the Highlady herself.

"Feyre!" You greet warmly. The two of you had met before when she had taken duties in your home court and if it weren't too bold, you'd say you consider yourself good friends. Feyre smiles, glowing like moonlight, as she realises who it is.

"Y/n," She says your name sweetly and her hug is just as such. She pulls away, ready to inquire about your studies when she spots the trailing shadow behind you.

"Making friends, I see," She comments. Her eyebrows raise almost teasingly as if she's made a certain insinuation. You take a moment to notice what she's referencing.

"It's nice," You say, a defensive lilt to your tone. You hold out your hand and the shadow jumps at the opportunity to skitter around it playfully. "It's like a little friend."

Feyre smiles at your words but chuckles a little. "Except Azriel is anything but little."

You pause at her words, glancing down at the shadow and back up at Feyre. "What do you mean? I thought— they're not- I mean, aren't they...?”

You trail off, unsure of how to word the question you're trying to ask. Feyre smiles, her gray eyes glittering with mirth as she realises what you're figuring out.

"They're all his. Azriel's. He controls them." She tilts her head a bit, watching the shadow that drifts about your hand and wrist. "True, they roam a bit on their own but... Not like this."

"Oh," You murmur, thinking back to that first day in the library.

The playful shadow that lead you back and forth, picking up your quill and turning your pages. It was him, all along.

Something immeasurably warm starts to glow in your chest, a thread that loops through your heart and sends the valves into overdrive. Its warmth grows, something molten hot beginning to bleed in your chest— and it feels wonderful. It feels right.

"Oh," You gasp as you figure it out.

Feyre grins, watching you piece together what the rest of the inner circle has clued together from the very first day. She stands to the side and gestures to the entrance of the library with a tilt of her head.

"Go on then," She urges you.

For a moment, you think back to Sergei who sent you hunting for a certain manuscript Cauldron knows how long ago but the thought is washed away in an instant. You can feel it now, the strong tug in your chest. The connection that binds you to another.

You stride past Feyre, giving a quick thanks! and all but run up the spiral staircases, heading for the entrance. The shadow pings along with you and as you near the top, you look down at it and say through huffed breaths, "You better go get him."

He's waiting by the time you get there.

Against the setting sun, for a moment there's only the silhouette of him— a warrior with tall wings, the edges of him rippling like a mirage. He might just be one; an oasis in your life, the answer that you've been searching for for centuries. You can't believe you didn't notice.

Your footsteps echo on the marble as you march right up to him and Azriel watches you closely the whole time, his amber eyes soft but his expression hinting at his nervousness. Gods, he's wonderful. You can't believe he gets to be yours and you get to be his.

"How long have you known?" You ask because it's the first thing on your mind. You're nearly panting from the exhilaration of your sudden exercise, from the dawning future that's blooming right in front of you. He's your mate. Gods, how could you have missed it?

Azriel smiles, that same tentative one that's been driving you crazy all week. His wings give a little shake behind him, a giveaway of his nerves.

"I... suspected from the beginning." He chooses his words carefully, wary of how you might respond.

You can't help your little gasp, feeling even more of a fool. You curse, ducking your head before you glare back up at him, no real heat in your gaze. You have the urge to give him a little shove, just for keeping you in the dark.

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

One of his shadows spins up unexpectedly, dancing across your shoulders and tickling your cheeks gently. You startle in surprise but something sweeter curls up in your chest at the tenderness of its touch.

"Believe me," Azriel says with a quiet chuckle, his amber eyes darting over your face intensely. "I've been trying."

You melt. Eyes locked with his, you move slowly, letting your arms drift up to drape around his neck like they've done every morning and evening since he began flying you around. You realise acutely that Cassian's behaviour, his shoddy flying, had likely been on purpose. You laugh a little, eyes creasing shut in pure euphoria.

Azriel's hands find your waist and you can feel the slight tremble in them.

"In my defense," You murmur, pushing up on your toes. You're close, so close, your lips hovering just an inch from a kiss—his shadows go wild around you both. It makes you grin. "I had never met a Shadowsinger before."

"Yeah?" Azriel breathes shakily. "Disappointed?"

He says it like a joke but you can hear the note of sincerity in his tone. His hidden worry that he isn't all you dreamed of. It's nearly laughable how wrong he is.

This close you can see his long lashes and every shade of brown in his eyes. You wonder if you'll ever get used to how beautiful he is. Part of you hopes you never do.

"Not in the slightest," You say, nearly a whisper.

Then his lips are on yours, pillowy soft skin against yours, and it feels like coming home. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you til you're breathless and the glow in your chest could rival the sun in its warmth.

He kisses you and every atom in your body hums and fizzes and comes to life — and all you can do is hold him tight and kiss him back, just as fiercely.

Breaking the kiss to catch your breath, you pant and grin brazenly at Azriel, at your mate, happier than you've ever been. Faintly, you realise that you won't be heading home when the two months of your study are up after all.

Not when you have a man who looks at you so reverently, who kisses you like there's oxygen hidden in the plush of your lips, who holds you like there's nothing more precious in the world.

Not when you know that home is right here, in front of you.

#YIPPEE! written in like... 3 days #no editing less go #love it or leave it #a break from all the doom and gloom of wtssf #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger x you #sloane writes

[wxnheart]

You got me touchin' on your body...

You're sandwiched between the wall and him, sequestered away from prying eyes and sharp ears, and oh fuck, his fingers—

They make you tremble. They make you moan. They make you push and rub against him even more and god, he's so hard. And smug, too. Bastard.

Those calloused hands are doing things to your body, playing you like a finely-tuned instrument, and making you feel shameless. Under different circumstances, you'd be embarrassed at the sounds you're making, doubly so because someone might hear you but right now, in this very moment, you couldn't give two shits if they did or not. Hell, you're even hoping they're enjoying it.

All you're concerned about is your pleasure. And so is he.

He continues to push you closer to the edge, leaving you breathless and wanting more. And when you come in a volley of curses, shivers, and murmurs of his name, pressed tightly against his body, you're a thousand percent certain everyone heard that.

Tough shit, though, 'cause he's only getting started.

Under different circumstances, he'd have you going crazy, fucking you senseless while seeing how quiet you could stay but right now? In this moment? Fuck no. Everybody's gonna hear you. Everybody's gonna know who you belong to.

Everybody.

Hope they enjoy the show.

#cutie 𝓠. #multifandom imagines #nsfw. #dick grayson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #phillip graves x reader #jason todd x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #simon riley x reader #frank castle x reader #soap mactavish x reader #doom slayer x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #dcu x reader #marvel x reader #mha x reader #jjk x reader #doom #dcu #marvel #jujutsu kaisen #my hero acedamia #call of duty #honestly it can be anyone you envision.

[achenetype]

Hihi can you please do a Luke x reader where it’s basically an unrequited love like reader is so in love with Luke and he has no idea so she moves on and years later she’s over him and confesses to him like a oh I thought you should know and the whole time Luke had been in love with her, kinda base it off that one TikTok audio where it’s like “I’m not in love with you anymore” “I never knew you were” 🩷🩷

OHH YOURE FEEDING MY ANGST BRAIN WITH THIS ONE. buckle up lets break some hearts

edit: this ended up being WAY sadder than i originally intended. i am so sorry anon oh my god

i gave you a rare gift (but you didn't want it) — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

content: angst, major character/reader death, unrequited love, mutual pining, reader is part of kronos' army, luke and reader are doomed by the narrative, [Y/N] used (sparingly), alcohol mention, description of injury

listening to: bloodfest (from mizumono) by brian reitzell

You are twenty-two years old, sitting on the rocky beach of a lake somewhere in the forests of upstate New York. Light, gentle fog hangs in the air around you, and the only sound is the tap-tap-tap of Luke skipping rocks across the water.

Come dawn, the world will burn. The gods will be dethroned. Every demigod will either be free, or dead.

But now, at midnight, you are twenty-three and Luke turns to you. He's holding a small, squashed cupcake in one hand. "Happy birthday," he says, "to my right-hand man." He pauses. "Woman. Right-hand woman."

He holds the pastry out to you and smiles, but something behind his eyes is empty. Hollow. He hadn't been sleeping recently. As much as he tried to hide it, he couldn't stop you from seeing when he came to you every morning for a cup of coffee and to debrief for the day.

Perks of being the revolution leader's best friend, you think. His right-hand woman.

Luke's eyes flick from the cake to your face. "Do you like it?" He asks, and for a split second, you swear there's a note of hope in his voice. "I wanted to do something, y'know," he says. "Twenty-three is huge. It's a monumental age."

You nod, but stay quiet.

He pauses for a second. "You remember how you always said you wished you never had a birthday?"

When you were twelve, nearly thirteen, your mother drove you across the country to go to summer camp.

"It'll be like a road trip," she said, tossing your duffel bag into the back seat of her battered car. "And then, hey, you'll only stay at camp until the end of August, and then you can come back and go to school. See all your friends again." She squeezed your shoulder and pushed the car door closed. "How about that?"

"Sure," you said. "Super fun."

And it was; you were actually kind of excited. You'd never been to New York. It seemed a million universes away.

And it was your birthday tomorrow. Maybe this was a gift, something that your mother had put together to make up for the years of being too tired and too drunk to make a cake, or get presents, or anything.

Your mother put her hands on her hips and sighed. "You know how I feel about the attitude, yeah? Let's not do this today."

"I wasn't even trying to—" You cut off as your mother glared at you, her face tense. You knew that look: the biting-the-inside-of-her-cheek, trying-to-be-understanding, trying-to-be-a-good-mom-despite-it-all look.

You hated that look.

"Just..." She sighed. "Just get in the damn car, [Y/N]."

You did, fighting back the tears building in the corners of your eyes, and the slam of the car door closing was as loud as thunder.

Twenty silent minutes of city streets and highway merge ramps and cold, empty stretches of asphalt and concrete passed before either of you spoke.

"Mom," you said, thirty-three seconds into minute twenty-one, "I'm sorry for talking back earlier." Your voice was quiet, shaking, cupped in your throat like a scared animal.

She didn't answer, keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

"I don't like being like this, Mom," you said, looking over at her. The silhouette of her through the driver's side window, backlit by the streetlights, was shapeless. Impassive. "I don't like doing this with you all the time."

She scoffed.

You pulled your legs to your chest, tucking your head between your knees, and tried to find sleep.

You weren't sure how long you slept, but you woke up to the sound of music playing softly over the speakers. Exit signs whizzed past you at what felt like breakneck speed. You wondered, briefly, if you would break your neck if you jumped out of the car right now.

Ultimately you decided against it. You didn't want your mother's last words to you to be, get in the damn car.

That would make her feel guilty, you thought, and that guilt would make her hate me even more.

"I don't wanna fight," you tried instead, picking at a loose thread in the cuff of your jacket sleeve. "Mom, I'm sorry, okay? I don't want us to be mad at each other anymore," you said. A sob caught in your throat, heavy and wet and choking.

Your mother sighed and reached one hand from the wheel to tuck your hair behind your ear. "I know you don't, sweetie," she said. "I don't want to be mad at you either."

"Then why do you do it," you asked.

When she turned to look at you, her eyes were wet. She smiled, or tried to. "Sometimes, certain people just…can't help but fight," she said. "It's just part of who we are, I think."

"Did you fight with Dad?"

Your mother inhaled, quick and sharp through her nose, as she flicked the turn signal to right and guided the car down the exit ramp from the highway, her eyes locked ahead. "Yes," she said. "Sometimes. Sometimes I think that's where we get it."

You swallowed. "Do you ever miss him?"

She doesn't peel her gaze away from the road. "Every day."

The two of you made your way through bustling streets and across too many bridges to count. You thought you fell asleep again, for a minute or maybe a year. Maybe it was all a dream.

"Mom," you asked as she turned onto a worn dirt road, the sunrise barely stretching over the horizon, "why are you bringing me here?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Two moments, then three. Through the leaves, you saw one tree standing impossibly tall. A pine tree.

Your mother parked the car and turned to you. "Because I don't know what to do with you, [Y/N]," she said. "I don't know how I can keep you," she paused, "safe. How I could do this, on my own, in any normal way."

She got out of the car and grabbed your bag, shoving it against your chest. "Camp is just up that hill there," she said, gesturing in the direction of the large tree you'd seen earlier. "They’ve got people up there waiting for you."

"Mom," you said. "Wait, I—I wanted to talk to you—"

She shook her head. "I can't come with you, sweetie." She smiled, the curve of her mouth falling just short of her eyes. "You just remember that I love you, okay?"

At that moment, you knew: she was going to leave you here.

“No,” you said, tears rolling down your face. “No, no—Mom. Mom, please.”

“Before you go,” she said, her voice tight and sharp, “I wanted to give you this.” She reached into the back seat and pulled out a jacket, worn leather with patched elbows. “It was mine in college,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. Like she was reading from a play or book, and you were the unfortunate audience. “I figure, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” 

She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

It was the first time you had ever felt like your mother loved you. You knew she liked you, sometimes. But you were never quite sure if she loved you until that moment. 

And then she got back into the car with one final, teary nod. 

And you never saw her again.

“Yeah,” you tell Luke, shrugging. “I think I’ve got a pretty good reason, though.” Your lips curve into a smile.

He laughs and tilts his head. It’s a habit of his; he’ll say something and twist his neck just a fraction, narrow his eyes. A nervous tic that not even years of training and fighting and killing could stamp out.

You used to think about kissing his neck when he did it, but now you’re not sure whether you would know the difference between kissing and ripping his throat out. 

“True,” Luke concedes. You laugh, too, unrestrained and loud. “Gods, your sense of humor is dark.”

“You laughed first,” you remind him. He grins.

The cupcake he offers you, despite its lumps and smears of frosting, is pretty good. You split it apart with careful fingers and hand half of it back to him.

“You’re celebrating with me,” you laugh, “so you get half. That’s the rule.”

Luke simply smiles at you and takes the crumbling cake from your hand. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, grinning back. “Damn right.”

Luke’s laugh rings out again, sharp and bright against the night sky. Firelight flickers across his face, painting him in brilliant streaks of orange and gold. 

“After tomorrow,” Luke murmurs, pulling his knees up to his chest, “we can do this whenever we want.” The wind ruffles his hair almost fondly, floppy brown curls stirring and settling back against his skull.

You raise an eyebrow. “This?”

He gestures in a wide arc. “Be here, like this. Just be people, instead of demigods or heroes or revolutionaries.” Luke’s voice picks up, conviction surging into his words. “I mean, seriously—when was the last time you thought you would ever have a normal life?”

You’d never understood the demigods who joined Luke’s cause without knowing him. The plan itself seemed crazy—the only way anyone would follow it was if they knew their leader could pull it off. 

You have to know Luke to know he was capable of that, you think.

Until now. Now, you see what you think everyone else sees—a real leader, a revolutionary. A force for change with a silver tongue.

He makes it all seem so possible. You almost think he might pull it off.

Luke looks over to you. “We’re going to change everything,” he says. 

Almost.

“We’re going to change the rules,” Luke said, spreading the map over an empty cot in his cabin. “If we want to win, we need to be thinking six steps ahead of the enemy.”

A few of the campers huddled around the makeshift table shuffled and coughed awkwardly. 

“Every strategy’s been done before,” a tall girl with bubblegum-pink hair and an eyebrow piercing shouted from the back of the group. “How are we going to out-war the god of war’s kids?” 

Murmurs rushed around the table, soft and susurrant. There’s no way we’re going anywhere here. We’ve gotten our asses beat six weeks in a row. What are we even doing?

Luke smiled. “Ares is the god of war,” he said, “not strategy.” He slung his arm around one of the campers next to him and inclined his head in the direction of the map.

Quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear, he murmured into the girl’s ear. “Don’t doubt yourself, Bethy,” he whispered.

You learned three things in the ten minutes that she spent explaining your team’s new strategy—

—one, your team was going to kick some major ass—

—two, your strategist’s name was Annabeth Chase, and she was the smartest eight-year-old you have ever met—

—and three, Luke was right.

Annabeth’s plan took the rules of Capture the Flag and threw them out the window. She split the team into four subgroups, each with a delegated leader. Luke nodded along as she talked, marking the map with a stubby pencil. 

When Annabeth’s eyes, dark and piercing, searched the crowd and landed on you, you felt your heart stop.

“You,” she said, “are you good with a sword?”

You raised your eyebrow, pointing to yourself—just to confirm this genius child was speaking to you—and Annabeth nodded. 

“I guess?” You said, shrugging. “I know some basic stuff, and I’m good at disarming.”

Annabeth’s face broke into a smile. “Work with Luke on the first wave of offense.” She gestured to the map. “You two will take points B and B-one,” she explained. “My group will take the A-points. You wait for our signal to move in.”

You met Luke’s eyes across the table. Hey, you mouthed. 

His eyes flicked up and down your form. Hey, he mouthed back. You ready to win?

You smiled and nodded.

Good, Luke said, all teeth. Let’s go.

He stood and grabbed his helmet. You did the same.

“I’m [Y/N],” you said as you followed Luke through the forest. “We, uh—we met when I first got here, like, a year ago.” I was sobbing my eyes out because my mother abandoned me, you didn’t add. It was kind of pathetic. I think I threw up from crying so hard.

You suddenly hoped Luke didn’t remember meeting you, actually. That would be less embarrassing.

He turned and caught your eye. “You live in the same cabin as me. ‘Course I know you.” 

Of course he remembers.

You laughed, flushing red. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

The silence was so thick, you could have cut it with the sleek bronze of your sword.

In the end, it was Luke who broke the silence. “You wanna play a game while we wait out here?”

You shrugged. “Sure,” you said. 

“Twenty questions,” Luke replied. “So we can learn enough about each other to actually work together.” He smiled. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you said, your voice just barely taking on a teasing tone. “It’s green.” 

Luke laughed, loud and full and bright. “Apologies,” he said; mirth crept into his words, staining everything with a tinge of that laughter. “I’ll go for the more gut-wrenching, intimate questions next time.”

You flushed red again. Intimate questions. What the hell does he mean by that?

“My turn,” you said instead. “What do you want to be when you get older?”

“We’ll be heroes,” Luke whispers. “Real heroes. Not figureheads propped up by the gods.”

You wish you could believe him. He’s lying on the beach next to you, his head resting in the junction between your shoulder and your neck. Over the treetops, the stars are beginning to fade from the sky.

It’s almost time.

Your throat feels like someone has sanded it down to expose your vocal cords. This is a bad idea, you want to say. We shouldn’t do this. Tell me we can still not do this. 

“Wanna play twenty questions?” You say, crackling and hoarse.

Luke turns to look at you. “Yeah,” he murmurs. 

“My turn first,” you whisper. Luke nods.

You take a deep breath, in and out. “Are we going to die doing this?”

Luke inhales sharply. “Maybe,” he says. Slowly. Deliberately. “But we’ll do everything we can to make sure we don’t.”

“I got another question,” you say. Luke raises an eyebrow. His knuckles brush yours as you sit up.

“Are you scared?”

It’s your birthday. 

You think you’re going to die. 

Luke is kneeling over you, the palm of his hand pressed against the wet opening in your stomach where someone had caught you with a spear. The shaft of it is still sticking out of you, you think. You’re afraid to look down, afraid to see it. 

“No,” Luke gasps, “no, no, no.”

You watch as the gold fades from his eye, leaving behind the honey-dark brown you remember. His hands are slick with blood—most of it’s probably yours, it has to be yours. You’re bleeding out, after all. 

You tug on Luke’s sleeve weakly. “Hey,” you breathe. “Luke. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” he says. “You’re—you’re hurt.”

“I know,” you rasp. “I know it hurts. I’m the one—” 

You break off as a cough sticks in your throat. It feels wet. Oily. Desperate to get out. You taste the blood in the back of your throat before you can even take another breath.

“—I’m the one who’s feeling it,” you finish, your voice tilting up at the end. A joke. Gods, your sense of humor is dark.

Luke laughs weakly. “Don’t talk,” he says. “You’re gonna be just fine, [Y/N], just fine.”

He meets your eyes. You see him realize it in slow motion.

Tell him. Tell him now. He’s never going to know otherwise—he could die any minute—

“Luke,” you murmur. “Luke, did you know I loved you?”

He freezes. “What?”

You cough again. Blood spills over your lips. “I loved you,” you repeat. “Since we were campers. Had the…the biggest, stupidest crush on you.”

Luke shakes his head. “No, no,” he says. “You—”

“You’re my best friend,” you continue. “Whatever feelings were there, you’re my best friend.”

Luke’s palm against your stomach is warm. It feels safe. It feels like sleeping side-by-side in the cabin, like shared meals and shared secrets. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Luke says, “why are you—why?”

You blink, just once, but it takes everything you have to open your eyes again after closing them. “Because I’m going to die,” you whisper. “And even if—even though I moved on, I wanted you to…to know.”

Luke bows over your body, pressing his forehead to yours. Tears slip from his cheeks and fall onto yours, driving little rivers through the blood smeared there.

He’s crying. Why is he—

“You idiot,” Luke says brokenly. “I loved you too. I loved you too.” He cradles your head in his lap, brushing your hair away from your face. “[Y/N], I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes slip shut.

I loved you too, Luke’s voice echoes. I loved you too.

#— ash's writing #pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #reader insert #y/n #pjo imagine #ok now we get into the warning tags #graphic depictions of injury #major character death #major character injury #reader death #alcohol mention #doomed by the narrative #genuinely im so sorry i really ran wild with this one good god #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic #— ash’s answering!

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

there was no place in nature we could meet ; suguru geto

synopsis; it’s never fun to run into an ex. especially when the ex in question is your unfairly handsome high school sweetheart — who also just so happens to be a wanted mass murderer.

word count; 3.3k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, geto-typical angst, exes to [redacted], lots of longing, geto is kind of a cunt but also disgustingly charming, reader is understandably upset, biblical imagery (i just think he’s so serpent coded), curse user geto is his own warning tbh

a/n; i wanted this to be a drabble so bad but it ended up just a little too long for me to get away w it so … :’3 yeah. i hate suguru geto (said w affection)

the moon is out.

in the shadows of the street corner you find yourself in, seated comfortably on the sidewalk, it’s a welcome distraction. something to look at, in the midst of your loneliness; the evanescent glow of the moon, illuminating your solitude.

a solitude soon to be broken. shattered into pieces, battered and bruised beyond recognition, jagged shards littering the asphalt. digging into the soles of your shoes.

”hey.”

for a second, you think you must be dreaming.

the figure obscuring the light of the lamp post in front of you is familiar. too familiar, a little too dear for your liking. as you grasp your shitty cup ramen, seeking the warmth seeping through the polystyrene, all you can do is stare. blinking dumbly, drowsily.

geto looks something like a bad omen.

sharp facial features, even sharper eyes. so dark they almost shift from an amber-tainted cedar into an obsidian black — two abysses, staring into your soul, beckoning you closer. they were always enchanting, but now you think they look almost hypnotizing. not at all in a good way. dark hair frames his face, cascading down his back, longer than you remember it being. and he’s wearing robes.

still has those fucked up bangs, though. of all the things to keep.

the gears of your mind turn, endlessly, untangling the mess of thoughts inside your brain. ensuring you that no, you are not hallucinating, and no, you didn’t fall into a deep slumber somewhere between the moment you exited the convenience store and sat down by one of tokyo’s empty street corners. this is real. a reality you can’t comprehend, can’t even begin to process.

what stands in front of you is a ghost. but ghosts don’t exist, can’t be seen, can’t touch the living.

(so how is he able to haunt you like this?)

what eventually jolts you out of your silent stupor is not the questioning tilt of his head, nor the suffocating sensation of your heart crawling up your throat, but the feeling of soft fur against your leg. the stray cat you met further down the street meows at you, sweetly, trying to get your attention. you think she must be asking for more grilled fish.

so, completely ignoring the apparition in front of you, you turn to reach for the little plastic bag you bought as a midnight snack — digging out a bit of fish for the kitty to enjoy. she seems happy, settling down by your feet. purring softly.

geto watches, eerily silent. 

(maybe he’s upset that you’re ruining his dramatic entrance. you hope so.)

finally, you have no choice but to look at him. a lump forms in the back of your throat, clogging up a little more for every second spent falling into the trap he’s laid out for you, trailing over his moonlit features with your tired gaze.

mouth full of noodles, staring holes into his attire, you narrow your eyes. suddenly disgruntled.

his lips quirk up. ”something the matter?” he asks, and you can’t even begin to describe how much you hate his voice. how devastatingly deep it is, during the late hours of the night. even deeper than it was back in high school. 

slurping up the soggy noodles, you lean back a little, licking some broth off your lips. finally meeting those abyssal eyes. 

”… i was gonna say those robes look like shit on you,” you exhale, weary, ”but you actually kinda pull them off. that’s…” 

a beat. you struggle to find the right word. 

”annoying.”

geto’s lips curl up, smoothly, and you find a hint of familiar amusement in the vague crinkle of his eyes. barely visible crows’ feet. then he’s moving — plopping down right beside you, robes fluttering with the breeze.

”thanks,” he hums. crossing his legs.

the silence that festers around you is odd. not quite suffocating, nor especially fragile. definitely not comforting. it’s familiar, yet different, and it hurts a bit more than it should. but you choose to look at him, out of the corner of your eye, and he looks right back at you. still smiling. 

when your eyes settle on the particular cloth wrapped around his torso, you just barely manage to bite back a taunting chuckle.

”a gojo-kesa, huh?” you grin, and geto doesn’t flinch. he doesn’t miss the meaningful glint in your eyes, either. almost satirical. ”you miss him that much?”

”just a coincidence,” is all he answers. smiling, but you think it looks a little stiff.

your grin widens, for a second, before settling back down. a sad transition. you let it go. 

”whatever you say, geto.”

at that, he visibly reacts. barely noticeable, but it’s there — a twitch of his lithe fingers, an unknown something that flickers through the scope of his iris. when he looks at you, a neutral smile is playing at his lips. 

”ah. i take it we’re not on first name basis anymore, then?” he asks, jovial. hiding a tinge of something mildly displeased.

a shrug. you pick at what’s left of your ramen with your chopsticks, a little too nauseous to enjoy it. ”call me whatever you want. i just don’t see suguru when i look at you, y’know?” leaning forward, you begin to pet the kitty by your feet. ”he was sweeter.”

geto smiles. almost a grin, but not quite there. a chuckle spills out from his lips, and something about it irritates you. ”was he?”

”yeah,” you nod. without hesitation. a summer-stained memory blooms behind your eyelids, but you try not to look at it. all you catch is a glimpse of cherry blossoms. ”you just seem bitter.” 

the grin that finds its way onto your lips is self-deprecating. a shadow falls over your face. ”guess we’re similar in that way, huh?”

a hum buzzes in his throat. he casts a meaningful glance towards your hand, scratching behind the cat’s ear. ”oh, i don’t know about that,” he drawls, smile growing. ”.. you seem just as sweet as always.”

to your grave annoyance, you can’t control the way your face changes at his words. a twitch of your lips gives away your discontentment, and something sour settles on the tip of your tongue.

(your blood begins to boil, beneath your skin.)

geto sighs, suddenly, filling the tense silence surrounding you. a little theatrical. ”ah, but that’s a shame.” he turns to you, soft pout playing at his lips. ”i was hoping i could hear you call me suguru again…”

”— i was hoping you’d come back.”

a beat.

(somewhere outside your vision, a crow takes flight into the night sky. swallowed by the darkness, melting into the sea of black. no longer perceivable, by you or the world.)

”but you never did,” the polystyrene of the plastic cup crinkles beneath your fingers. your eyes look dull. ”so what the fuck do you want, exactly?”

…

”i heard.” geto rests his jaw on the heel of his palm, gazing at you with those piercing eyes. like he’s trying to see inside your brain. ”.. about your decision.”

”ah,” a grin splits across the curve of your lips, showing off the white of your teeth. ”of course. that’s what this is about, huh?”

with groggy movements, you throw away your nearly-empty cup of noodles, haphazardly aiming towards a trash can across the street. it bounces off the steel cover, landing on the ground with a soft thud. leftover broth spilling out across the pavement.

(geto doesn’t bother to hide his amusement, lips twitching upwards as one of his curses goes to pick it up. you furrow your brows in embarrassed annoyance.)

a moment passes, and something in you knows that he’s waiting. it’s like you can practically sense it, like it’s etched into your bones. the same way you always knew exactly when he would begin to get impatient during your nightly convenience store runs in high school, after you had spent about five minutes struggling to decide what kind of chips you wanted. 

”what can i say,” you lean back, palms against the rough concrete. breathing in the midnight air. ”you inspired me.”

geto tilts his head. smiling. always, always smiling. he smiled at you the day before he massacred that village, too. ”oh?”

with a deep breath, cool air courses through your body. burning your lungs. ”i realized being a sorcerer is completely fucking meaningless,” you exhale through your nose. ”and that trying to change that fact is even more meaningless.” 

a wicked, rueful grin rests on your lips. ”so i left.”

geto doesn’t say anything, so you continue. voice dripping with venom.

”i’m a civilian now,” you purr, mocking. a sardonic coo cast his way. ”does that bother you? feel like killing me?”

…

his smile looks a little off, now. tilted in a direction you don’t want to recognize. you don’t care to examine it further, don’t care to figure out if it might look just a little bit sad, because that’d only hurt more.

so you look away.

a click of his tongue. then he speaks, with that honeyed voice, raspy and husky. almost a groan. ”well, i can’t say i approve.”

he’s looking at you. sharp eyes digging into your skin, dissecting you, a million words he expects you to grasp from that look alone.

”you’re better than them,” he states, and you try not to squirm when his eyes trail over your features. ”worlds better.” his voice sounds almost motherly, a twisted concern that makes you cower a little. like he’s scolding you. a crease between his brows.

”i don’t like the thought of you surrounded by these animals.”

a huff pushes past your lips, but it sounds shakier than you’d like it to. you hope he just chalks it up to the chill of the air. then again, when has he ever made anything easy for you?

”what, you got a problem with cats now?” you reach for the little furball licking grilled fish off the concrete, picking it up. cradling it close. ”gonna go on a cat-killing spree?”

an amused exhale. geto narrows his eyes. ”funny,” he hums, but his eyes say you know what i mean.

it takes you a moment to regain control over your breathing. there’s still something tense in your shoulders, and your heart still feels a little like it might jump out of your throat and crawl into his lap. the stray cat slips from your grasp, moving towards geto, curiously sniffing at his robes. he looks at it with no ill intent, and it puts you at ease.

”well, i appreciate the concern, buddy,” you pat his back, trying not to flinch at the contact. trying to appear relaxed. ”but frankly, i don’t give a shit. i actually like my job, unlike literally every single sorcerer on planet earth.”

geto stills.

”.. buddy?” he echoes, ignoring every other bitter word you just graced him with. for some reason, he actually seems visibly bothered. ”i’m buddy now?”

you click your tongue. muttering, tiredly. a little exasperated. ”.. what else would you be?”

and then he smiles, again. only this time, it looks oddly genuine. the same as you remember, framed by cherry blossoms and the fizzle of youth.

his movements are smooth. like he’s completely unguarded, like this situation doesn’t bother him in the slightest. elegant, in the way he leans back, palms on the concrete to support his weight. keeping eye contact with you, all the while.

when he speaks, his voice has a sweet tinge to it. nostalgic, maybe. wistful. if you hear a touch of longing, you choose to ignore it.

”i seem to recall you calling me baby quite a lot,” he hums, and you stiffen. gritting your teeth. eyes darkening, but he continues. ”what else was there? angel, i think… it was sweet.”

then he’s leaning forward. scratching the cat under its chin, gently. ”ironic, though.”

an inhale. then, an exhale. they’re a little shaky, a little meek, but at least they make the lump in your throat feel less like it’s blocking your windpipe. air fills your lungs, but it tastes like nothing at all. 

something like sorrow simmers in your eyes. or maybe more like fatigue. god, you really want to cry.

(you wonder if he gets some sickening satisfaction out of seeing you like this, out of breaking you. maybe it just makes him feel rotten. you don’t know what you’d prefer.)

”suguru,” you murmur, at last. voice dripping with exhaustion. defeated, the sigh that flows from your lips. ”why did you come here?”

…

”join me.”

the words spill out into the open air, slicing the silence in half. heavy. a request, not a question. against your better judgement, you turn your head to meet his gaze.

”we could use you,” he says, and there’s hope in those keen eyes. he maintains his distance, but for some reason you still feel like prey being sized up by a predator. like he’s weighing your value.

a chuckle slips from your lips, but there’s no humour to it. ”use me…” you echo, a tired murmur under your breath. ”you're just straight up admitting it, huh? kinda refreshing.”

”that’s not what i meant.”

he inches closer. slowly, as if trying not to scare you. reaching out, to brush through your bangs, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. tangling them between your locks, inserting himself into your space. testing the waters. 

you don’t look at him, completely still. barely breathing. like a wounded animal.

”i want you there,” he says, and it comes out almost as a whisper. ”with us.”

unable to resist the temptation, you indulge in a single brief glance his way. his eyes look warm, and his lips look soft as they part.

”with me.” 

there’s a devotion to his voice when he continues, one he’s always had. one you thought you’d always be able to trust. ”i’ll create a world where you can be happy,” he vows. ”i swear it.”

a moment passes.

(you swallow thickly. it takes everything you have not to burst into tears. when you remember how he brushed you off, back then, it gets a little easier. when you remember all the skipped meals.)

”.. like you give a damn.”

geto smiles. you loathe how soft it looks, how similar it is to the one suguru always had. when you used to eat your ramen too quickly and started choking on it, and he brought a palm to your upper back, patting it gently. he’d chuckle, and tell you to slow down, and the softness of his smile would almost be enough to distract you from the amusement in his eyes. 

”my love.”

you flinch. breath drawing back at the base of your throat, heart screeching to a halt, and some part of you emerges; the shy, sweet kid you used to be. hanging on to his every world. like he was your sun, your guiding light. back when that purr of my love had you blushing furiously, not choking back a string of curses.

it’s sudden, and you can’t react the way you want to. you want to kill him for calling you that. for thinking he has any right to call you his, anymore.

but that sweet, naive, innocent little kid still exists. even if you want to pretend otherwise. it’s there, somewhere, that part of you — peeking out from behind the curtain. and it stops you from saying anything that might hurt him.

(it’s so hard to hate him when he calls you that.)

if geto notices your inner turmoil — he must — then he doesn’t mention it. you don’t say anything, but you hope the amused, harsh exhale you partake in is signal enough for him to cut it off. now.

yet he continues. there’s love in his voice when he speaks, barely contained. if he’s trying not to hurt you he’s doing an awful job.

”… i never stopped thinking of you,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it. ”not once. i left for you, not just for myself.”

and, despite every part of your being resisting it, a sweetness settles on your tongue. so sweet it’s sickening; the thought that maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe he really has been thinking of you. maybe you’re more to him than just a means to meet an end, or a memory yet to be buried.

geto looks at the moon. bathed in moonlight, he looks a little like a god. like something reverent. his voice is honeyed. low, like a secret.

”this world doesn't deserve you.”

silence.

a subtle anger trickles through your veins, a kind of fury, subdued, carefully tucked away. sparking to life inside the depths of your eyes when you look at him. bitter, given everything. but your voice still comes out sounding something like a plea.

”and you think you do?”

another smile. this time, it looks a little sad. remorseful, maybe. ”… let me prove myself.”

his touch burns. the pads of his fingers against your cold skin, cupping your cheek. slithering down to grasp your hand. and you’re pliant, unable to react. just sitting with that aching hollow feeling in your chest.

”i wasn’t worthy, back then,” he hums, bringing your hand to his lips. ”but now…”

a kiss to your knuckle. featherlight. reverent. you try not to shiver, but when he says your name, dragging each syllable out, like they belong on his tongue —

a chill runs down your spine.

when he speaks, you feel his warm breath on your skin. it’s dizzying. ”i’m not the same suguru you once knew,” he admits, a forlorn look in his eyes. and devotion, frighteningly sincere. ”unlike him — i’ll never let you go.”

what a twisted desire. he wants to take you with him, drag you down to hell. the suguru you knew wouldn’t put you through that. but maybe you’re even more twisted, for wishing he had; for wishing he had taken you with him, ten years ago, instead of leaving without a single goodbye.

geto’s voice is soft. coaxing, like he's handling a frightened mouse. join me, he whispers, and you think of eve. when you look at his mouth you think you see serpents’ teeth behind his lips.

(you're almost sure he notices it. and you're almost sure his smile widens, lips curling up, as if preparing to open his maw and swallow you whole.)

a sickening sense of resignation roots itself somewhere in your gut. 

you pull your hand away, and he lets you. the loss of warmth hits you like a freight train, but you aren’t sure you could think clearly with his skin on yours. when you part your lips to speak, only air comes out, just barely forming a sentence. like there are no more words to say. like the world stopped spinning around you both a lifetime ago.

”i don't love you.”

…

for just a second, his smile falters. 

”.. no?” he hums, and you wish it didn’t hurt so bad to see him hurt. his eyes carry a kind of patience, something gentle. ”it’s fine… these things take time.”

a bitter chuckle. ”like you’d know anything about waiting,” you spit, and it comes out sounding venomous. a phantom ache sprouts in the spot where his lips touched your skin.

geto closes his eyes.

”.. you don't need to love me,” he says, finally. kind. you hate that he still sounds so kind. so understanding, like nothing you do could be wrong in his eyes. ”as long as you're beside me, that's enough.” 

he turns to look at you, and his smile looks very real, for a moment. impossibly fond. ”i have two daughters. i’ve told them about you,” he smiles. ”my family… you’d like them. i know they’d like you.”

dark clouds cover the moon, suddenly, and a shadow falls across you both. illuminated only by the streetlight. in the distance, you hear a car whooshing by.

”don’t stay at the bottom,” he beckons, and your name slips from his lips again. soft, his tongue bending around the vowels. coaxing. stirring your heartstrings like a puppeteer.

then he’s standing up, dusting off his robes, large hands smoothing down the fabric. turning around, towering over you; obscuring everything else. all you see is him, under the glow of the lamp post. a halo of artificial light.

”come. let me show you the world we can create.”

he gives you a sweet smile, two abysses gazing at you. the promise of something, something twisted. something new. forbidden. you think of red skin, yellow flesh. the bite of sin.

and for a second, you see it. the world. a world where laughter comes from the bottom of your gut, and the trees are always ripe for picking, red apples hanging from the branches like glowing rubies. 

paradise.

geto stretches a hand out towards you. fingers unfurling, one by one, like a blooming camellia. close, right there in front of you, so close that you’re tempted to take his hand in yours, let him carry you away. burn everything else to the ground. 

(you think of the serpent. you think of god.

only one of them banished eve.)

”so,” he smiles. ”what do you say?”

#i just think curse user geto is soooo …… #hes so. hes just so #he has this undeniable softness and hes genuinely a very sincere man. but he just comes across as extremely insincere #n kinda.. suffocating? like just one look from him to you makes u wanna hide. even though hes so coaxing and gentle and eager to care for u #he just has that ’doomed by the narrative’ swagger yknow? the ’distinct air of tragedy’ charm #anyways im completely obsessed and i fear i would fold instantly rip to all non sorcerers #title taken from ’half-light’ by frank bidart btw read it its so good . very stsg coded #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #geto angst #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

[fell-fell]

aceyuu but its that one time-travelling ace theory

#tfw your bestie/crush is NOT beating the doomed by the narrative allegations #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twst #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #twst yuu #twet mc #aceyuu #i dont like this it looks like literal ass #but eh #fellfell draws

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Could you do doom headcanons for a demon reader, that for some reason is too kind? Smiles too much, too gentle, doesn't fight, etc. Just an oddball pacifist demon in the gorefest that is the Doom universe.

Either x the slayer himself, or your favorite demon.

Oh yippee first doom request! I'll write the Slayer himself

.........

In all his years of killing demons, Slayer never thought he'd come across one who somehow didn't lose 100% of their humanity.

But he spots you among the remains of his slain enemies, although you weren't his priority target as a Tyrant was currently backing him into a corner.

He was running out of ammo and options, his chainsaw being useless against the giant.

Much to his surprise, he saw you actually getting rid of the demonic barrier that kept him trapped, but he made a mad dash for the ammo stocks he previously couldn't reach, finishing the Tyrant off for good.

You were lucky not to get sprayed with bullets of lead/energy, although knowing the Slayer..you knew he wasn't going to just say "thank you" and let you go so easily.

Fortunately, you're one of the higher-ranked demons who retained some emotional intelligence, and you tried assuring him that you won't harm him.

Your smile isn't very comforting, but you still mean well.

He spares you, surprisingly, but you're on extremely thin ice.

Plus Samuel wants you alive for "study", as he's never seen a demon who can still feel things like empathy and kindness.

Things only humans with souls could feel.

Clearly something must've gone wrong in the extraction process, as it seems a piece of your soul remained with you, even as a demon.

Regardless, you'll be staying in the Fortress of Doom for the most part, but if the Slayer decides to let you come on a mission, you just help him find secret areas and bring him ammo.

You don't kill any demons yourself--although you do like to instigate infighting between them (and maybe "accidentally" push explosive barrels near them).

It's not much, but it's enough to not raise any suspicions of you being a traitor.

It also assures the Slayer that you're not just standing by idly watching your species destroy the planet.

You still saw Earth as your world, too.

If you do get any cybernetic implants, they're simply for cosmetic reasons (so he doesn't accidentally shoot you mid-mission), although if you have any extra powers, VEGA will ensure that they're all enhanced.

You keep reminding him that you've never killed with them, but he insists they'll be useful to you anyways.

#clanask #anonymous #doom x reader #doom eternal x reader #doomslayer x reader #doom slayer x reader #demon reader #platonic #headcanons

[luxthestrange]

MASHLE Incorrect quotes#24 The fear they have-

Somewhere in a meeting room with...The brothers, who behind their father have...actually met you a phew times out of their own curiosity to see who you are...but with Mash being with you the cats outta the bag and each brother confessed secret meetings they had with you-

Delisaster: Last night, When we snuck into our "Mother's" home again, Famin picked up a dagger they left on their table, and let me tell you…

Delisaster: When "Mother" yelled “Put that shit back” so loud, you know what We did?

Doom: You put your own shit back too, didn’t you?...

Delisaster: I put my own shit back...

part 5 of :

#mashle #mashle magic and muscles #mashle x reader #mashle x y/n #magicless y/n #innocent zero #mashle famin #mashle doom #mashle delisaster #mashle brothers #innocent zero x reader #innocent zero x y/n #mash burnedead #mashle incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes

[kaygee-doodles]

How would the boys react if I got down on one knee with a ring pop and proposed? And if they would accept where would they want to get married?

Nightmare gives grudging acceptance. You couldn't really go out and get a proper proposal gift, things as they are. Very well then, there's a Muffet willing to work with him for the dress, and..well, there's a very old, very far away 'verse...no one uses it much anymore. Perhaps you could get married there?

Horror accepts, and eats it, instantly, whisking you away to the kitchen to make his acceptance meal. He doesn't care where you get married, so long as his brother can come. How does a Farmtale wedding sound?

Dust...already considered you married, so you're being a little silly. But if you want a human wedding, he will indulge you. Perhaps Outertale will have you for your honeymoon?

Killer is all in. Human weddings are ridiculous. He treats the whole thing like a party, or a game, but...he proves differently after the wedding. He has a lot of fun showing you how Snowdin used to be. When things were...better.

Error isn't sure you''re serious. You have some convincing to do.

#gloom and doom #undertale fanfiction #utmv #anon ask #horror!sans #murder!sans #killer!sans #nightmare!sans #dust!sans #error!sans #ht!sans x reader #Dust Sans x Reader #Killer Sans x Reader #Error Sans x reader #Nightmare Sans x Reader #bad sanses x reader

[cultural-church-or]

#natural titts #housewife #web weaving #sommer ray #anti capitalism #zoe saldana #wilbur soot x reader #seventeen #of mice & men #doom #modern #crazy ex girlfriend #ana and mia #maria eduarda