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sttoru · 5 months

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‘no matter how much time the king of curses spends with you, he doesn’t think he will ever understand you or your affectionate behaviour towards him.’

☀︎｜tags. true form sukuna x female reader. heian era sukuna. fluff. bits of mentions of blood & murder. big size difference. cold-big-monster-having-a-small-soft-spot-for-a-single-human trope. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’. not proof read! let me know if you like my characterisation or not; it’s my first sukuna fic.

a kiss on the cheek is one of the most innocent - yet apparently also the most difficult - things to do. it’s a small form of intimacy; not that hard to do. it’s really as simple as planting your lips on your beloved’s cheek. then all you do is retreat — maybe get a kiss on the cheek back from him. or on the lips.

“get moving. i’m not waiting all day for you.” sukuna grumbles. you had suddenly stopped in your tracks and the king of curses was confused as to what the reason might have been. the two of you had been walking through the courtyard for a few minutes now — well, you basically had to drag him out to take a little stroll together.

and now the same you was quiet. it bothered sukuna; you were always so chatty around him when it was just the two of you. he might have called you an ‘annoying brat’ for it, but he secretly enjoyed your company and voice.

“c-coming.” you reply in a quiet mumble, eyes glancing over at the monstrous frame that stood a few steps away. his dull yet sharp gaze was focused on you — like he was sizing you up. or rather: trying to figure out what’s wrong with the change in behaviour you showed.

sukuna watches you as you hurry over to his side again. he resumes walking, hands folded over each other under the material of his kimono.

though, he couldn’t yet let go of the fact that you were acting different around him. the king of curses’ suspicion only grew once he noticed how your fingers fiddled with your obi. you were anxious about something.

sukuna shakes his head slightly. some humans sure are difficult to understand, he thinks to himself. your happy yet reserved personality when you usually interacted with him had disappeared and made place for a nervous wreck. trying to figure out why made sukuna’s head hurt.

were you finally scared of him? like all other humans and curses were?

he doesn’t know why, but it felt like he would hate for such thing to happen. sukuna usually wouldn’t care if someone resents, fears or somehow even admires him. only you could make him think and care about such difficult and maybe even trivial things.

“uhm,” you break off his train of thoughts and his eyes are instantly on yours again, “may i do something really quickly?”

sukuna’s face doesn’t show any change in expression, but a small nod tells you everything you need to know. you clear your throat, “can you please lower your head towards me?”

lowering his head? oh, you got some guts. if anyone else had said that to him, sukuna would have obliterated them; there wouldn’t have been anything but red bloody dust left of their body.

but then again: it’s you. all exceptions the king of curses makes are for you.

sukuna slightly lowers his head to your level so you could do whatever you needed to. he’d be lying if he said that his curiosity wasn’t piqued. it always was when he was around you.

you gulp. it was time to do what you’ve longed to do ever since the beginning of your stroll: give the ryomen sukuna a kiss on the cheek. you don’t think he’d be mad—at least he never seriously gets mad at you. only to get a reaction out of you since your responses are always ‘intensely amusing’—as he says.

“go on.” sukuna’s breath hits your cheeks. he was so close—too close that it made you even more nervous in a way. as if you hadn’t even had your first kiss yet.

you swallow your fears and just go for it. your lips attach to his cheek in the fraction of a second—the speed of light—before they leave. it was right under his right set of eyes.

you take a step back and clear your throat. you try to escape the embarrassment of sukuna’s possible reaction by continuing your stroll, though were stopped by a strong hand firmly grabbing your forearm.

“where’d you think you’re going?”

sukuna’s deep voice echoes through your ears. you were surprised to hear the tone of it; almost soft. a tone sukuna uses on rare occasions: in your presence.

you turn your head around and smile sheepishly at the king of curses before you. he doesn’t return the same (not that you expected him to), however he does unexpectedly ruffle your hair for a split second. or at least he attempts to.

his large and warm palm lands on top of your head and he gives it a little and subtle shake. sukuna had seen you do a similar action to someone else before, thus he concluded that he could do it to you. maybe as a form of endearment or. . whatever you used it as.

he did find the way you tried to scurry away after giving him a kiss very adorable. even if he wouldn’t say so out loud.

“now, come along. we don’t have all day.” sukuna nonchalantly mutters after retracting his hand. it left as fast as it came, though you were still stunned at the slight show of affection the king of curses returned.

you instantly catch up to sukuna again—walking next to him as fast as your legs could take you. you were a bit more at ease after you got a positive reaction to your little kiss. it was a pity that he didn’t smirk or laugh at you—maybe mocked you like he usually would. but that head pat made up for it.

even if it did leave your hair a little disheveled.

you couldn’t properly see sukuna’s face, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips was undeniably there. even if it was for just a split second.

“how very interesting.” sukuna mutters under his breath so you wouldn’t catch on. he sighs and shakes his head, unable to keep out that memory of you looking so cute—standing on the tip of your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek with your comically small hand on his jaw line. he doesn’t know why he found that to be so thrilling.

you flutter your eyelashes. you were curious about what he might have commented on, “may i ask what you had just said? i didn’t quite hear it.”

a short second of silence hangs before sukuna tilts his head to the right to look down at you again; his face expressionless, but still having a hint of a grin on his lips.

“i said you better hurry before i gobble you up right this instant.” he replies, (playfully) intimidating you with his sharp red eyes that glinted with a form of danger.

you shiver (though knew the threat was an empty one) and instantly pick up your pace. you even get ahead of him, walking as fast as your legs could. you answer with a curt ‘my apologies’ and walk like you actually have somewhere to be.

sukuna’s grin only grows as he sees you get ahead of him. if you had turned around, maybe you could have caught onto that light flicker of affection in his expression.

“i’m coming for you, little one.” sukuna adds just to ignite some more fear into you and you react as expected, “you’re not escaping me today.”

it was a funny sight; your reactions always make him enjoy his time with you even more than he already (secretly) was.

the way his body reacts in mysterious ways when you’re around, is still very much an unsolved riddle to the king of curses. and the reasons as to why you aren’t scared of him and can easily give him all your ‘love’ are also still yet to be discovered.

until then, sukuna will continue to enjoy teasing you.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x y/n #sukuna x you #jjk fluff #jjk fic #sukuna ryoumen x reader

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eclysia · 1 year

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i can assure you this thing made azzy a lot easier. im pretty sure thats what it was made to Do and it sure did succeed

#p5 spoilers #oh boy i cant wait to use akechi against this fight its really thematic about him opposing a fate controlled by others #and ultimately choosing to end his own life because it is on his own terms #[he gets obliterated with bless attacks and i have to swap him out instantly]#anyway thats how the azzy fight went. also ann did thousands of damage at a time. god bless

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pixeechix21 · 6 months

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Take it, Mein Engel

Königxreader praise kink

Summary: You’re on a very cold mission; it’s cold, and well, he can warm you up… you try your best not to wake up the rest of the team, but it's hopeless.

He’s a lethal soldier, a monster of a man, who is weak at the sight of you using him so that you come.

TW: smuuuutttttt, PRAISE KINK to the MAX, sex, size kink (Idek @ this point?), pinv, oral,

It’s freezing outside and slowly it’s seeping into your tent. There is a light snoring and mumbling coming from the team in their own tents. You feel restless as you gradually lose feeling in your fingers and ears, shifting positions trying to find any heat. Finally when you’d had enough you wrap yourself up and exit your tent heading straight to his. He’s normally out like a light so you figured you could just temporarily ‘borrow’- let's be honest steal- his mini electric heater.

Upon entering your eyes squint into the darkness seeing his large body rising and falling steadily. In the corner you hit the jackpot, the radiator glowing a warming red. Trying not to wake him you creep in further, pausing instantly as you hear him mumble something in his sleep. You look at him, his features are soft, yet more masculine than ever, as he sleeps. A sudden urge to curl up to his large body, and touch his lips, comes over you. As you go to grab the heater you trip over a large boot exclaiming, quietly, as you fall. Into his bed. I know I wished for it but seriously, you think frantically trying to scramble out of his bed. Before you could, a large muscular arm wraps around you hugging you in closer, under the covers. He still has his eyes closed as he says, “can I help you Engle?” his accent heavy in his drowsiness.

“Let me go, I was just coming to borrow your heater,” you whisper loudly.

“Mmm. stay here it’s warmer,” he snuggles into your neck, breathing you in lovingly. You try to get out but every time to wriggle about he tightens his hold, as if he’d never want to let you go.

“König,” you say flatly, guiltily enjoying as you sink into him and you feel his hard worked body pressed into you.

“Ja mein liebling,” he gives your neck a small kiss, as he scoots you both onto the center of the small bed. You moan involuntarily as you feel his soft lips move against your neck. You wriggle once more trying your luck. I need to get out of this you think stupidly knowing full well this is exactly where you wanted to be. “Stay still, you feel so good,” his voice is husky as his hand lowers to your hips and holds you. He has no clue how he makes you feel when he talks to you in that low tone of his. Bodies together and the dark blanketing you both. He slowly grinds into your ass so that you feel his hard on, turning you on more you reciprocate and arch your ass back to meet him. You exhale as you feel yourself want to straddle that man's hips and feel his large dick in its fullest. “Shieze, y/n they’re next door,” he gets out gruffly now fully awake placing wet kisses and lightly biting your neck.

“We’ll be quiet,” you say, reasoning with him.

“Trust me Engle I want to make you scream my name, not be quiet,” he forwarns. It doesn’t matter, your body wants, you want him, and he needs you. He rolls on top of you. His huge body was laying on you, and you could feel his erection imprint on your stomach. Looking up to him with doe eyes you bite your bottom lip seeing his muscles through his tight shirt. He takes your throat in one hand, face coming close, so close that as he speaks his lips brush over yours. “Promise you’ll be quiet as I pound into that pretty pussy of yours?” He says his crystalline blue eyes looking deeply into mine. “Promise,” he tightens his grip and you start to see black around the corners of your vision.

“I promise,” you say begging for friction as your clit throbs and heat grows in your core. He squeezes once, “I promise I’ll be quiet as you pound into my pretty pussy,” you repeat, needily.

“Good,” he says before he obliterates your lips with a deep carnal need. His tongue dominates yours and your cold finger goes under his shirt and pushes him to crush you under his weight. He inhales, surprised at the cold. His hand goes to your hard peaked nipple, twisting it between his fingers making you arch, tossing your head into the pillow. Hurriedly he takes off your shirt tossing it into the dark, coming down on you taking your breast into his mouth sucking and biting. You moan quietly as he plays with you at his leisure. He looks up at you, his lips swollen from the kissing and his eyes sharp searching your face. Your small hand cradles the side of his cheek and he kisses it sweetly. He’s had fantasies in the long nights, just meters apart, about him finally being able to pleasure and cherish your body. Countless nights he’s imagined himself with you as he comes in his hand, wishing it was you pussy. He kisses you down to the waistline of your pants, a hand pulling it down you, a rush of cold hits your sensitive clit. König’s thumbs make small circles in the inside of your thighs. Taking your feet he drags you to the edge of the bend getting on his knees to get closer. At first he licks your folds then almost as if one taste wasn’t enough he goes all in. His head clenched by your thighs, he holds a leg for support as he tongue fucks you, then moving his toung to your clit he bites it gently forcing a small squeal. At the sound he stops his movements entirely. “What did I tell you?” He breathes out, his hair disheveled and out of place.

“I’ll be quiet, please I promise König,” you plead, twisting your fingers through his soft hair and pushing him back down. Pleased he digs back in lapping at your wetness nearing your climax. His finger fucks you as his tongue flicks, and sucks your overly sensitive clit, “come for me Engle. Come on my face,” you take a pillow and cover your face as you moan loudly as you cum on him. “That’s it,” he continues as he licks all of you. Thighs firmly on either side of his head he opens them so that he can look down at you. “Such a good girl, Mein Liebling,” he watches as his two fingers circle your enlarged clit, causing you to squirm. He chuckles laying on the bed leaning against the tent wall, taking you into his lap. Your naked body straddles his lap and without knowing- as you wrap your arms around his neck and his arms shift your ass- you start to grind on him. Yearning for friction you lay all your body on his hard cock. You feel him straining against the fabric, he groans, he slides up and down your wet sopping cunt, a watch patch marking his pants. “Fuck, König,” you breathe out. You place a hand on his broad chest and the other one behind you so that you hit your spot. You grind on him faster and faster as he leans back and watches hungrily at you fucking his lap. “Oh my god-” you start out as you take yourself to another finish. His hands start to guide you, and you can feel him twitch under you. As you shake rising he lowers his pants taking his cock into his hands. You salivate at the size of him, large and the tip bulging needing release. You take him in your hand, wrapping it around König’s as you sit on it.

“y/n you’re so tight, schiβe,” he rests his heavy head on your shoulder. It feels euphoric how he stretches you and fills you to the hilt, how his chest goes up and down with restraint as you squeeze around him as you go up and down. Breaths one and the same as he gazes into your eyes, watching you strain with effort. “That’s it. Take it I’m yours,” he kisses you in between each word, as you quicken your pace. The impact of your body hitting and rubbing against him as you ride him hits you deliciously. He hand cradles your neck as you lean back, the sounds he makes pressing you closer to finishing you fingers go in between your bodies to further you. Before long he switches, back on top of you taking both hands up above your head. You look angrily at him, because he interrupted you, but not for long as he gains control.

He wants to make you scream his name so loud that even the enemy forces can hear you. He wants to obliterate you so much that he renders you unable to walk. And to his wishes, he thrusts viciously in and out of you. You cry at the pressure building within you, and the sheer pain that his force causes you. “Shh, shh Engle.” He grunts with each thrust next to your ear. The air prickles your skin to form goosebumps. “Take it for me, Mein Gott. Just like that,” you bite the crevasse of his neck to stop you from breaking your promise.“Tssk,” he gasps. Inside you, you feel him hardening even more. He’s lost all control as you wrap your legs around his waist. A calloused hand goes over your mouth, as he looks down at the connection between you two.

“Come with me,” he says, working harder. The wet sounds of him fucking your pussy, your helpless moaning, mixed with the light creak of the small bed, sounds like his new favorite melody. “Mein gott y/n, just like that,” he rasps out as you cum around his cock and he cums in you. He pumps a few more times strenuously before he collapses on the side of you. He pulls you across on top of him as he snuggles into you. You're a wreck and melt into his large body that engulfs you in a warm bear hug. He hums faintly as you fall asleep, the cold long forgotten.

is it jus me or do these sometimes feel like you're reading straight porn but like its not cuz your reading it?? jus me???🙈🥰

plz leave any ideas, or comments on wt ever 🥳-xox piciechix

#smut #fem!reader #cod x reader #cod konig #cod smut #cod mw2 #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #killer #praise #praise k!nk #könig cod #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig x y/n #y/n #konig fanfiction #fanfic

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lovelybrooke · 7 months

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Yandere Gojo and Getou x reader headcanons

I haven't completely finished the manga, very far behind in fact (Chapter 93), so please no spoilers. But I wanted to write something about these two because they are so yandere coded its insane (also because I wanted to see something involving them that wasn't smut). I'm letting you guys decide if this is platonic/romantic.

Masterlist

Gojo and Getou believe they are better than everyone else, they're stronger than everyone, smarter than everyone. It was a well-known fact that both of them thought this way. So, it's why so many of their peers thought it was weird their best friend wasn't a sorcerer.

You were a pretty normal person. You went to a normal school, had a normal part time job, even had a pretty normal family. In truth, neither of the two could remember how they met you. It's almost like they blocked out their life before all of you were together. Maybe it was when you were their server at a cafe they loved to frequent after missions. Or when you bumped into them while trying to get to school on time. Or when they were hanging around your neighborhood for what they said was "work." Either way, what's obvious is the two can't get enough of you.

When you officially become their friends, they both make the decision not to tell you about their lives as sorcerers. They know you'll probably resent them for it in the future, but it's the best way to ensure your safety. They couldn't risk you getting mingled in with any potential curses that would want to get at them. Even if anything tried to kill you, they'd obliterate them without a second though.

You sometimes question how they both know so much about you, and they honestly think it's the cutest thing ever. Neither of them tries to hide their less savory tendencies, why would they? You're their best friend, of course they'd want to share clothes with you, and go to school events that they weren't invited to with you, and bad talk your other friends right in front of your face. It's what comes with being friends with them, you should expect it by now.

While both of them are similar in many ways, there are aspects that each of them has that are purely their own. Gojo is mysterious in a lot of ways, acting dumb about a lot of things only for his demeanor to instantly change if you or Geto are threatened. You don't know if you should be afraid of him or not, but something about Gojo says it doesn't really matter.

Getou, on the other hand, is sometimes less scary than Gojo. He teases you less, doesn't agree with Gojo's ridiculous ideas as often, and, at least for a while, is more emotionally available than Gojo. It's not that Gojo doesn't care about you, but he isn't as good at dealing with emotions when compared to Geto. However, it sometimes feels as though Geto sees right though you, right into your soul. Even when you try your best to hide something from him, he knows what you are really feeling, sometimes a little too well.

Gojo and Getou don't always see eye to eye about you. Sometimes, especially after though missions, arguments spark up about you. The more obsessed he grows, the more Gojo wants to tell you about curses and Jujutsu sorcerers as a whole. Getou doesn't think this is safe however, believing that it instantly put you at risk. Gojo says they can protect you, while Getou reminds him you're weak, and they you'll always be at risk if you know the truth. Their arguments never lead everywhere, it only leads them back to you.

After the situation with Riko, you notice a large shift in your relationship with the two. You no longer see them as much, but when you do, they're rarely together. In a way, it's like their personalities swapped. Gojo became more reserved as Getou became more hateful. He suddenly started talking about people like they were a disease, not even trying to hide it from you. It put a huge strain on your relationship, even when he'd hug to tight and swear to you that you were different from them, you were better.

Getou disappears soon after that. Gojo becomes closer with you, often to the point of feeling suffocating. You've always had a feeling that Gojo knew what happened to his dear friend, and chose to keep it from you, for whatever reason. But regardless, you both feel the strain caused by Getou's absence, and it damages the last bit of a friendship you had with Gojo. After graduating, you left, needing to leave, needing a break. Gojo tried to convince you to stay, but you had your mind set.

Today, you were much older, both of you were much older. You don't remember much from your time with Gojo, but oh boy, did he remember you. He often when though his favorite moments with you in his head, whenever he needed a moment of peace. He regrets letting you leave. So, when he hears you're moving back home, he couldn't be happier. He won't let you leave him this time, he stronger now, he can protect you better.

When you do move back home years later, you meet up with Gojo. It's fun, he's happy and boisterous, and you don't think you've laughed as much as you did when you first back up with him. Though, you couldn't help but feel like someone, or something, was watching you. It was familiar, but terrifying at the same time.

---

A/n: Sorry that the ending sucked I didn't know how to end this. I would love asks for jjk but just keep in mind that I'm not that far in (chapter 93)

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo #yandere geto suguru #yandere geto #platonic yandere jujutsu kaisen #platonic yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk

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florvaine · 10 months

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lost comfort and found familiarity.

Escaping the prison was a mess, and Carl is devastated when he can only find his girlfriends red jacket, but not her. (afab! reader)

genre: heavy angst to fluff

warnings: death, blood, gore, panic/anxiety attack, !carls’ SA scene!, kissing.

-— DREAD BEGAN TO FILL THE PIT OF CARL’S STOMACH WHEN THE HEAVY REALISATION SET IN. That realisation was that the prison was overrun, the Governor and his goons having broken down the wired fencing with a tank and brought in dozens upon dozens of brain-deteriorated, famished walkers into the previously safe confines of the prison.

They had killed Hershel in cold blood using Michonne's katana, leaving his severed head to pool a red sheen on the grass. Somewhere in the time of his beheading bullets began to ring out around the borders of the prison.

Cars, trucks and military-grade vehicles began to fill the courtyard, Rick and the Governor are beating each other bloody with their bare hands by the overturned bus.

“Holy shit.” He hears you say, and once he looks to his left to find you, his heart hurts a little more.

You’re typically comforting smile has vanished like the peace had just a few hours ago, instead pulled in an open-mouthed look of pure shock and horror. Your eyes are blown wide, brimming with a small collection of tears. There’s dust and debris flying everywhere, staining your cheeks. A shotgun is tight in your grip, ammo stacked in your pockets and an army knife clinging on your belt.

He’s only ever seen you this devastated when the farm got set up in flames, and when you had been told that your brother had been bit.

Carl gulps, pulling you closer to him via the strong grip he has on your hand. Both of your palms are sweaty, but it was barely even registered as the tank that the Governor had hijacked shot another bomb into the crumbling, brick walls of the prison.

“We gotta go!” He says, running in the opposite direction of the explosion. You follow behind him, still holding his hand as an anchor to keep you aware of reality.

Your eyes drift around the series of events around you. The obliteration of your home, the snapping jaws of the decaying walkers that drooled and reached to take a chunk of flesh from either of your bodies. Bullets rain hell on everything that moves, sparks of orange and yellow shining from all directions, the scent of blood, gunpowder and dust is heavy as it clings to your clothes and hair.

You stumble, tugging on Carl's hand, "We have to get your Dad!" You point to where Michonne is helping him up, and the blue-eyed boy falters.

A loud bang followed by the sound of debris hitting the floor, a flash of heat passed over each of your skins. Between the flash, he sees his dad covered in splatters of blood, bruises and cuts stumbling towards a break in the metal fence.

Every sense in his body is muddled, an annoying, high-pitched ring in his ears makes his clammy hands raise upwards to press against them, sounds muffled as dust coats his tongue like thick, chalky medicine. His eyes flutter as the light passes, debris clinging to his lashes and dirtying his freckled face. Carl sniffs, his head turning around rapidly to see you again.

Except you were gone.

Just like the flash of orange light and thermal blast, you had seemingly dissipated into thin air. His first reaction is panic, in a form that roots his body into the concrete floor at the thought of you being hit by the bomb, therefore disintegrating instantly.

Carl feels sick to his stomach and he removes his hands from his ears, picking up his gun that clattered to the ground and spinning in circles to catch even a glimpse of you.

"Y/n?" He shouts even if his throat was aching from the particles in the muggy air.

There's no response, "Y/n!" He calls out with more urgency, his feet moving quick against the ground as another round of bullets pass beside him.

The shaggy, brown-haired teen dashes through a gap between the cell blocks, keeping as low as he could whilst running, pressing the sheriff's hat his father gave him just a few days prior against him skull.

Then everything stops. It's practically silent if you ignore the echoes of the snarling walkers that invaded the space. His eyes brim with salty tears, scrambling to pick up a too familiar red cloth discarded on the floor.

His heart is put on pause for a few seconds as he kneels down to claw at the jacket. Your favourite jacket. Bright red stained with black smudges and bloody hand smears, an open hole passes cleanly through both sides of the left sleeve, encircled in a deeper scarlet that dripped in a sickening curve of an open wound.

Time passes slowly, as if God himself was providing him time to grieve. You had slipped through the cracks of his callousing hands, the blood trapped under his fingernails suddenly more obvious as he scratched at the drying liquid on the jacket. His heart hurts. So does his head, a throbbing pulse that matched the pants and trembling breaths that exited his chapped lips. His body washes out any adrenaline or happy emotion an refills it with dread and mourning.

He feels like crying. Sobbing, screaming your name until his lungs collapsed and his throat was raw. Vocal cords torn, shattered like his heart that would no longer beat with the same life he had with you. His thoughts turned from joyous hope of a future with you and Judith outside the crackling prison to disbelieving hurt at the realisation you were not near him anymore.

With no body, their could be no funeral. Nobody in the limited black attire they collected throughout their time in the apocalypse. With no grave to bury you under, you could not rest.

But without a funeral or a tattered corpse of your being, Carl refused to believe you were dead.

The sound of bullets restart his heart again like a defibrillator, and he's back in the moment. There's shots in the courtyard, the boy scrambles up, clinging onto your jacket with harsh breathing.

There's two walkers further along the cell block. Carl ties the jacket around his waist. Rage slowly drips into the building acceptance in his mind, and the shotgun that he held previously was snagged up off the floor.

The gun is raised, aimed perfectly for the decaying heads of what used to be morally guided people. His breathing picks up slightly.

One shot rings out, bullet shells hitting the ground. Chunks of skin, bone and rotting organs spills over the floor and the walker hits the ground with a dull thud. He steps over the remains with what could only be described as a bitter mixture of anger and sadness on his face.

The second shot is fired, and the first victim is joined by the other. A mess of liquid ruby changes the grey hue of the floor, the sound of blood spilling like tossed water would usually sicken him.

His gaze drifts towards the bodies, and he is repulsed at the image of you, your hair splayed against the concrete and your eyes wide open yet unseeing, glossed over in grey as your plump lips turn blue, skin cold. Your chest does not rise. You are still, graceful and dead.

He blinks, and yet again you were gone. Carl looks up from the meaningless corpses.

His own dad looks back at him.

"Carl," It doesn't sound like him, there's a hint of liquid that gurgled in his throat as he spoke, and Rick gulps it down. He's breathing heavily. A collection of red patches adorn his beaten face, curls from his hair and stubbly beard pressed against the sweat gathered on his skin.

The two of them limp away from the remains of the prison, trauma and sorrow tossing and churning in their minds and stomachs. They had lost not only you, but Judith as well.

One of the only memories of his mother that he had. And the only hope that Rick had of raising one of his children without any fear even in the apocalypse.

That night the two of them exchanged no words.

-—-

1 month, 27 days and 17 hours.

That's how long it had been since Carl had last heard your voice. Him, Rick and now Michonne occupy a two story house in a leafy road surrounded by woods. They visit the neighbouring homes further down, once he even found a 112 ounces worth of chocolate pudding, and ate it in one sitting. Alone.

The words 'alone' has never been in the forefront of his mind this much before. He wonders if you would've enjoyed the pudding with him, or comforted him on his worst nights as his dad slept on the sofa barricading the front door. Maybe you would've stopped him shouting at his unconscious body.

He was terrified, that night. Because the sleeping body of his dad would sometimes look like you - except there's a bite on your shoulder and a bullet wound punctured between your closed eyes.

Now there was no resting body on the sofa as his dad was awake, alive and moving whilst Michonne helps the two of them work with their slightly tense familial relationship.

Sometimes he'd get bombarded with questions about you. He'd still answer with one phrase.

"She's alive."

The same tone, the same memory starting to form before his ocean eyes whenever he blinked. After a while it went from being a quivering statement of hope to an exclamation of law.

Every time you were brought up negativily, it ended in him storming out of the house and sleeping in a different one for the night, and coming back in the morning to his anxious dad who was very close to vomiting and a worried Michonne.

Carl knew you wouldn't just leave or give in that easily. It wasn't in your blood that stained the jacket he kept folded upstairs in one of the rooms.

He had washed it, any trace of what happened at the prison left in a stream of water; the hole from your bullet wound was sewn together as best as he could. No more smudges of soot and crumbling brick smeared down the hood and arms, no more scarlet hand prints that grabbed and tainted your clothing.

Carl had one mission that he would complete - he had to complete it before anything else.

And you were going to get your jacket back - alive.

-—-

Terminus was a horrible idea. It had been advertised as a safe haven for anyone in need of it, offering sickingly sweet luxuries that no other place had before.

Who knew it was run by cannibals that captured, disarmed and intended to eventually eat them? Not Carl, that's for sure.

They had barely escaped with their lives, and Carl could only wonder how many more times he could dodge death until it inevitably caught up with him.

But in the back of his mind, he knew he would avoid it for as long as he possibly could, because if he kicked the bucket then he wouldn’t see you again.

At least they found everyone else - including Judith. That was one miracle that Carl dreamed of, and it was accepted, so the last one was you.

Many nights and days he had spent wondering where you were, if you were thinking about him too, some other days passed with tears and muffled screams of your name; those days he’d be comforted by the tight arms of his dad or Michonne wrapped around him.

Carl would sometimes have nightmares of that grimey, old man that pinned him against the floor, Michonne and Rick having to see him at his most vulnerable in that moment. That was the one time he was grateful you weren’t there. Not because he didn’t want you to see him so shattered and broken, no.

He knew that whatever was going to happen to him, would happen to you too. And with the predator pinning him down, the company of his equally as vile creatures that held Michonne and Rick as captives. Nobody would be able to save you in time.

Part of his innocence was picked up and snapped that night. He fell asleep with your jacket over his torso, and he let his quivering frame curl into yours.

He wanted to see you again, in real life. Not a part of the fractured, twisted part of his imagination. He wished to hold you close against him, kiss you under the stars like you had done too many days ago. Everything Carl found that he thought you’d like was in a small pouch at the bottom on his bag.

A thin-chained necklace, a gossip magazine, a comic book. A small heart shaped rock that he had found. Most importantly, your jacket.

Carl was intelligent, observant. He could tell everyone had already grieved for you, mentioned your name in speeches of motivation saying ‘do it for her’. He hated it.

Another argument happened whilst they were all moving down the abandoned road, towards a new hope of life.

His father brought you up again when he saw Carl wearing your jacket. They had stopped for a break, sitting in the middle of the road whilst Daryl went hunting for anything they could eat.

“Carl,” He spoke, voice slow and gentle as if he was a ticking time bomb, “I think it’s time you let go of her jacket.”

Everyone’s eyes moved from his father to his son, eyes slightly widened and mouths clamped shut. The air becomes tense as the blue-eyed teen looks up at his father through the corner of his eyes.

Carl swipes his tongue over his lips, “Why’s that?” He spoke, Judith coo’s in his arms, pulling at the strings that tightened the hood.

Rick adjusts his stance, placing his hands on his hips and thinking of what to say to his son. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he speaks.

“I just think, well we just think that,” The curly-haired dad gestures to everyone with one hand, “It’s time to let go, son.”

Carl lifts his head fully, eyebrows knitted together in scrutising disbelief, “You all think she’s dead?” His tone is harsh, accusing and targeted to pierce their racing hearts.

Everyone knew that the mention of you being dead was something that the boy didn’t agree with. Stubborn as ever, Carl points his gaze towards his dad. His gaze as sharp as daggers and Rick knows hes in for the long run.

“She disappeared, Carl. We can only guess what happened to her.”

Carl hands Judith to Carol next to him and she takes her without looking at the boy, “You can guess, but I’m not guessing. I know she’s alive.”

“She’s got lost, nobody saw where she went. She’s alone.” Rick argued, his voice louder.

“She has a gun and a knife!” Carl replies, shouting over his father. Michonne stands up and removes her gun from her holster, as did Abraham and Tara when a branch snaps behind the wooded trees.

Daryl shows himself, empty handed. Everyone internally groans, but they give him a look to tell him to be quiet and point at the arguing boys.

Rick places his hands on his sons shoulder, looking down on him, “People have still died with a gun, kid.”

Carl pushes his dad away from him, face contorting into pure anger and vemon lacing his features, “Don’t touch me.”

“I’m just tellin’ you the truth, Carl.” Rick points at him, eyebrows raised and his voice returning to the soft, almost patronising tone from before.

“But it’s not the truth!” Carl argues, his anger put into lashing out against his own blood, “She’s alive, I know it! I see her, Dad!”

Michonne places a hand on Rick’s shoulder when she hears him sigh and prepare himself, “Don’t-”

“She’s dead! Trust me. She. Is. Dead. If you’re seeing her like I see your mother, then she is not alive anymore!”

It goes silent, a few birds fly overhead with calls of their scratchy language. Even in the open surrounded by trees it has never felt more claustrophobic than ever for the Grimes family.

Carl stiffens at the mention of his mother, the woman that birthed and nutured him through his pre-teen years. The woman he eventually ended up killing.

Rick takes his silence as an opportunity, “Let her go, Carl. That’s my only advice.”

Tears form in his lashline as he stares back at him dad, and the sheriff’s hat against his head has never felt more heavy than in this moment.

“But everyone saw Mum’s body.”

Rick has never turned around quicker than in that moment. The mention of his lovers lifeless body, deep cut in her lower stomach flashes under the glaze in his eyes and Rick swears he can see a white dress move through the treeline.

Carl continues, “We saw Mum’s body,” His voice trembles and he sniffs, “I knew she was dead more than anyone else here.”

It’s deathly silent. Everyone knows what he’s referring to, and everyone is scared shitless to say anything to either of them. Rick takes a deep breath, but doesn’t speak.

A droplet rolls down Carl’s pale cheek, and he looks down to ensure no one saw him wipe it away, “We haven’t seen hers. Until we see her body, I’m keeping her jacket. But when we find her, she’s gonna have it back.”

Rick only nods lightly, picking up the supplies he agreed to carry.

Nobody makes any objections to continuing to move further up the road - towards Alexandria.

-—-

You have never felt so close before. Yes, they were extremely suspicious and afraid of Aaron and his husband, Eric. Having been tricked into a cannibal house just a week ago does that to a group of people.

But walking up yet another road, littered with lifeless corpses of walkers with bullets making their brains paint the pavement. Carl knows only one thing.

He has never been this sure that he was going to find you.

Aaron is rattling on about what facilities they had. Running water, heating, electricity. Promises of necessaries they haven’t heard of for years now.

His dad is on edge, not particularly fond of the idea, but he knew that everyone was so tired and burnt out that they needed just the idea of a safe place to be just to bring more motivation to themselves.

So far, Aaron’s words of a 15 foot, metal wall that bordered Alexandria and protected the insiders was true, and Carl begins to feel more energetic and hopeful than before.

Carol notices this, and questions the boy, “What’s up, Carl?” She looks at him, and he looks back.

“She’s here, I know it.” He replies and then looks forward again, walking ahead of her.

Carol furrows her brows and decides to take harder and longer looks at the walkers on the floor.

The group arrive at the large, metal gate. The journey felt like hours for each of them, but extra long for Carl. He was antsy, and fully compliant to anything any of them told them to do. If Aaron or Eric told them to stop, he would. If they told him to go find a bird, kill it and bring it back, he would.

The gates finally screech open, Carl feels as if his heart is going to burst open. An alarm sounds in the back of his head but not one of worry, but one of intuition that told him she was here.

He looked into the gated community as the gate opened fully, and felt alienated as soon as he entered with his group. They were dirty, hair knotty and unclean against the pristine and organised residents of Alexandria.

People poke their heads out of houses and stare, smiling or looking upon them with apathy. Every face Carl doesn’t recognise.

They get told to hand over their weapons. Their refusal is argued, and eventually they give in. It’s hesitated and unsettling seeing all their guns and knifes piled onto a trolley.

Carl is the second to last person to place anything on the trolley, his handgun is held in his hands tightly as he walks over to the collection, placing it down and reaching for his knife-

“Carl?”

It’s a voice further along the pathway into Alexandria, and he looks up in slight confusion.

His blue eyes meet hers, they’re as recognisable as ever. Finally.

His body is practically overflowing with emotion - relief, joy, sadness and the most overpowering feeling of love.

The knife clatters to the floor, there are hands reaching for him, tugging on his clothes to hold him back and the leaders that he didn’t care to remember the names of tell him to stay put.

Instead he runs. It’s a run of desperation. He’s afraid that if he doesn’t run fast enough, you’ll disappear again in the aftermath of an explosion. You’re running too, a hand against your mouth to cover sobs.

The two of you meet halfway, arms wrapping around eachother as a form of physical touch to ensure that the other that this is real.

“You’re alive,” Carl whispers, breathing heavily and clutching the back of your head that was pressed against his chest, “I knew it.”

You’re both crying, holding eachother in a tight, cathartic embrace that released any inkling of doubt that the others heart wasn’t beating.

Carl’s hands clamber to hold you face in his hands again. You let him, raising your head to look into his eyes. He runs his thumbs against your soft skin, scanning your face.

His head lowers, yours lifts, and your lips meet in a greeting that was way past it’s due date. Eyes closed, experiencing something that has only been a dream for so long. You didn’t care that his lips were chapped, he didn’t care that yours were slightly cut up from you biting at the dead skin there.

It’s messy, teeth clashing and your noses bump one or two times, but all that you care about is that he’s here, and that he finally found you.

You pull apart, and your eyes fly open to witness his still closed like he was still in shock. His lashes flutter, and you make eye contact once again.

There’s a sense of melancholy realisation that slowly ebbs through him. The fact he hadn’t been there to witness you grow up alongside him during the time you were apart. He admires the change in your facial structure, features from before stronger and more prominent to show that you had grown up.

“You’re just as beautiful as I remembered,” His thumb wipes away a few of your tears and rolls over a small scar that streches up from your jawline to your cheekbone and his eyebrows furrowed in slight worry, “What happened?”

You press yourself further against his palms, relishing in the feeling of him again, “I survived, Carl.”

His name has never sounded so good before. His brain feels funny, his heart floating as he pulls you in for another kiss. It’s less messy this time, not that either of you care.

Carl pulls away again as he’s reminded of his mission, his forehead against yours, “Your jacket,” He gives you peck, and departs again, “I have your jacket.”

His hands leave your face to pull the rucksack of his back, and in panting breaths you gasp softly as he pulls the red fabric out of the bottom of the brown bag, holding it out to you.

“I cleaned it, sewed up the bullet hole,” He holds it up, showing the messy threading, “It’s not the best-”

He’s cut off by you taking it from him with a sniffle, pressing it against your heart and clutching it.

“I love you, Carl.” Your voice trembles, and he smiles, pressing a kiss against your forehead, brushing a few loose strands of your hair from your face.

“I love you too.”

You unzipped the red jacket, struggling to get it on; Carl moves forwards to help you slide it on over your arms again.

Where it rightfully belongs.

-—-

#*{ ‘. florawrites<3 #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #carl grimes #twd #angst #the walking dead x reader #fluff #twd fluff #twd angst

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1800-page-not-found · 8 months

Note

Hi! Glad to see an ORV writer. They seem to be a very rare breed. Like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Anyhow, as you might have guessed. I have an ORV request for you. I got sort of inspired by that vampire. How about having our reader being a phoenix? Ya know the mythical immortal firebird? With the related powers? Like how would KDJ and YHJ react to their “s/o” being one? Like say they seemingly ‘died’ but then ina red flash of flames they are instantly revived, completely healed.

School is starting soon which means my updates are gonna be even scarcer lol

Kim Dokja, Yoo Joonghyuk (seperate) x reader

Summary: You sacrificed yourself for them, but just before they can grieve, you come back to life?

Using the Disaster of Floods chapters when Shin Yoosung obliterated KDJ in the novel.

also, Yoo joonghyuk never dated Lee seolhwa bc plot

Kim Dokja knew you were a phoenix, as it said from the story and your character profile said so. What he didn't realize was the fact that you also shared the same abilities as one (your character was mentioned only a few times in TWSA). So when you died, Kim Dokja was terrified.

Kim Dokja's eyes widened at your body standing in front of him. Nononono! He-He was supposed to take the shot! Why did you do that?! You knew he could revive again!-why?

He dashed to catch your fallen body. "No, no, no! [name]! Y-you can't die! Shit! Why did you do that!?" But your body had already fell limp. Kim Dokja cried for his favorite side character, his lover, his idol.

He held you close, yet tears were unable to fall due to the fourth wall. "I can't even cry or mourn you...What kind of lover am I?" He could only close his eyes and curse fate for doing this to him.

You opened your eyes to darkness, until a screen popped up.

[You have died.]

[Revitalization count down has finished.]

[The skill, Phoenix:Revive, is taking effect.]

Kim Dokja's eyes opened, then widening as your body started to burn. He could only step back, and watch as your body lit on fire. Your clothes started to burn, besides the ones which were fire resistant. 'I couldn't even give you a proper goodbye and their taking me away from you?...' Kim Dokja thought bitterly. He looked down at the ground, clenching his fists in anger.

You opened your eyes, your body feeling warm as a flame engulfed you. 'Ah...how nice it is to be a phoenix...' You sighed in relief.

The sound of your sigh snapped Kim Dokja's head up to you. "[N-name]? H-how?" Oh, how he wanted to cry so much right then and there. Too bad for the fourth wall.

You stood up as the flames lessoned and cooled down, dusting off some ash. "Huh?...But I thought you knew? I'm a phoenix remember?" You tilted your head in confusion. Wasn't he the one to realize you were a phoenix the moment you met? Surely it wasn't a bluff right?

"A-ah right...how could I be so foolish..." He mumbled, blushing a bit as his heart rate cooled down from the shock. He ran up to you, hugging you tightly and not letting go, ignoring the sweat and high temperature that surrounded you. "Y-you can't do that again!.."

You stood still, a menacing aura coming from you. "What the hell do you mean 'I can't do that again?' Once the cool down is finished, I won't let you die. Hypocrite. You were gonna take the shot for that wretched man, so why can't I?" You seethed in anger.

"Right right sorry..." Kim Dokja scratched his head bashfully. You were right... "I won't stop you okay? Don't be mad..." (He lied he was going to make sure you never had the chance to sacrifice yourself again no matter what).

---------

Just as Shin Yoosung fired the bright beam, your body instinctively moved. "Joonghyuk! Stop staring like a deer in headlights!-" You grabbed Yoo Joonghyuk by the collar, throwing him back behind you as you took the hit.

"Keugh!-" You fell on your knees, coughing up blood nonstop. "A-Ah..no...[name]?..." Yoo Joonghyuk took fast, trembling steps as he caught your falling body.

"Heuk...it hurts...Joonghyuk it hurt so much!..." You cried, your tears mixing with your blood as it dripped down to the side of your face. "P-please don't regress...These new companions, don't abandon them please. I'll be okay.." You begged, grasping onto Yoo Joonghyuk's clothes weakly, before dropping limp, dead.

"Haah, Haah..." Yoo Joonghyuk breathed deeply. Why did he have to see you die again? His only lover in each regression, who cherished him deeply and believed him when he told them he was a regressor, and stayed by his side no matter what. "Why?...Why did you die for me?" Tears dripped down onto your face. The single fear Yoo Joonghyuk had every regression...your death.

You opened your eyes to darkness. 'I wonder if he stayed?' You pondered. He, your lover, the man who saved you from your eternal cure of sleep as a phoenix.

[You have died.]

Ah right, you were a phoenix.

[Revitalization count down has finished.]

Thankfully, the countdown ended, so you could return to your lover.

[The skill, Phoenix:Revive, is taking effect.]

Yoo Joonghyuk felt a burning pain in his hands as you were set ablaze. "No!" Yoo Joonghyuk screamed, were the gods not even allowing him to bury you properly? Kim Dokja had to hold Yoo Joonghyuk back as he thrashed around, continuously hurting the man, trying to reach his lover.

"[NAME]!" He shouted, then eyes widening as he stepped back. "[name]?..." Your clothes were a bit burned besides the fire resistant ones.

"I wonder if he stayed?..." You mumbled, looking around. You really hoped he didn't regress.

"Y-you're alive...H-how?" Joonghyuk stood still.

"I'm a phoenix, remember? I can come back to life." You smiled, tears dripping down your face. "I'm so happy you didn't regress this time."

His eyes widened in horror and regret. Does that mean..Every time you died and he had regressed, you came back to life moments later? No...no...how-how much time had you spent alone? How could he leave you?

Guilt crept into him. He took a shaky step towards you. "E-every time...you came back?.." His eyes widened, hands shaking as he reached out to hug you.

You nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid so." A bitter chuckle came from you lips. He spoke, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you, I-" You cut him off and hugged him as he sobbed into your shoulder.

"Its alright, my dear. Just don't do it again alright? Wait for me. I don't want to be alone."

"Alright." He whispered.

#orv x reader #omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint x reader #kim dokja #kim dokja x reader #kdj x reader #kdj #yjh #yoo joonghyuk x reader #yoo joonghyuk #yjh x reader #manhwa x reader

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tmntxthings · 7 months

Note

Hey, I hope this request motivates you a bit! I was wondering if you could do little scenarios with the Rise boys reacting to accidentally hitting their S/O while they stretched?

You know that thing that happens when you're standing too close to someone and they move or do something and end up hitting you in the face, it happened to me at college sobs 😭

Have a lovely day! <3

一∑ Accidents Happen・゜・。

author’s note: sksksks sure sure, I wanna say this has happened to me too but I can’t recall a specific scenario which makes me think it has happened just I’ve obliterated it from my memory out of embarrassment?!?

note 2.0: so I did Raph’s first, forever ago and a bit of Leo’s then just now I did Donnie’s and Mikey’s, everyone’s is a bit different and it’s like 3am idk how to feel! BUT WE POST ANYWAYS

warnings: cursing, injuries caused by accident, attempts at humor, crack, fluff, unedited

—————————————————————————

Raph was super excited to help you learn self-defense! It was a great skill to have. Just in case ya know! Plus it would make you feel more confident too.

“First things first! We gotta loosen up, I usually start with arm stretches.” Raph said with a toothy grin. He couldn’t stop smiling. He loved being able to hang out with you, but you had asked him personally to train you for self defense. Not any of his brothers! He was honored and didn’t want to mess up!

Raph then grabbed his left elbow and started to pull it, making the muscles there taunt. You immediately started to copy him. Asking if your form was right which had Raph moving closer and correcting you just slightly. “Just like that! Now other side!” And when Raph went through with the motion of doing his other arm, it was too late.

The smack resounded throughout the weight room and if things couldn’t be anymore horrible, because of his stature, he had quite literally smacked your face.

Stunned you held your cheek. It stung. And Raph was a ball of tears instantly. “Oh— Y/n!!!! Are you okay??? I’m so sorry!!! I didn’t mean to, I should’ve backed up!! I got too close and— Raph’s so so sorry.” He was on his knees in front of you. Telling you to smack his face in return. And you just laughed, saying that it was okay.

“Once I learn these self defense moves you won’t be able to land a hit like that again!” You joked.

Raph could only whimper. He felt horrible. He was a horrible teacher! And it took some convincing from you to get the ball rolling again. He sniffled here and there because he just couldn’t get it out of his mind. He was hard on himself for sure. Even though it was an accident he wouldn’t forgive himself!!

Leo was prone to doing weird shit randomly. Like striking a pose anywhere, anytime he saw fit. So while sure I could totally come up with a prompt for stretching like I did with Raph…but in my head…more realistically… it would be because Leo was up to his regular shenanigans again!

He had texted you not that long ago that he was planning on portal-ing over! It was a common occurrence, it made for traveling back and forth to the lair fast. If only the side effects wouldn’t hit you like that one ride at the fair, the Spaceship 9000?? The one that spins, and spins, and spins so fast that the piece of metal your buckled into moves up and down??? Right?? I’ve only went on it once so this is like a very bad descriptor but hopefully someone knows what the heck I’m talking about.

Going through a Leo portal was like that. The feeling of getting spun around so much that your stomach didn’t feel like it was in your body anymore. More like it was splattered all over the ground. Or three miles back in the direction from which you came. You wondered absentmindedly if all portals were like that. Or if that was just because of Leo?

Anyhow, it had been a while since he had sent you that message. You were used to him coming instantly after sending the message. Really not even giving you enough time to read the damn text! You sighed and got up from your bed and headed to the living room where he would be portal-ing in. But instead of going to the couch, you wanted to try and guess where the fool would land. Maybe closer to the actual door, as if he had used it to begin with?

It was while you were thinking, that a blue portal opened above head not but mere inches to the left of you. There had been no whirring or whizzing noises. No “Geronimo!!” Or “Heads up!” call outs. It was ninja silent stealth mode at which Leo came in. Eyes closed, and once he was through, only then did he holler, “And he sticks the landi—“

A loud thwack could be heard as one of his hands collided into you as he did a ridiculous windmill motion with his arms to steady himself. And it hurt like hell where he had slapped your arm. “Shiiiiiiiiiiiittttt!” The force had knocked you a little ways away too! As you held your arm where it stung and closed your eyes to not start crying, and then your mouth to not start yelling.

“Y/n???” Leo opened his eyes and shook the hand that had hit your arm. “My bad! You’re usually in your room when I come, and I just— I don’t know!” He rambled, a nervous smile on his face as he watched you close up.

Silence. Breathing. That was all that could be heard. Leo started feeling really guilty. He hadn’t been holding back his strength because he was an idiot and didn’t know you were there. “I’m really sorry..” he murmured. Not coming in close because he didn’t want to anger you further.

“It’s..cool!” You shook your arm, eyes opening and god damn it they were watery. “Oh no it’s not. Let me get you some ice. Fuck. I’m really really sorry.” Leo springs into action at the sight of your unshed tears. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” You tried to console him but didn’t deny the need for ice. Relief was felt when the ice pack met your skin. “Still wanna come over?” He asked timidly, wondering if he had ruined today in general too. “Duh, I’m going to be fine Leo! How about we stop for ice cream, on you and then it’s all even mkay?”

Because you knew if you didn’t say this then he would just continue to hold onto the guilt despite all your words and reassurances. “One waffle cone coming up!!” Leo cheered, his dramatics back on as he twirled a sword to make another flashy portal, you could only hope you would survive the journey.

Donnie has a stick. “Technically Y/n, it’s a bo. Bo staff. Not a stick.” Your eyes narrowed in on his weapon of choice. “Looks like a metal stick to me.” You told him plainly. He huffed. He knew that his weapon wasn’t always the one to wow people away. It wasn’t flashy like some people *cough* *cough* leo *cough*. “Okay I lied, it’s not just a bo, it’s a tech bo!” Donnie emphasized, spinning the said weapon around between his fingers before making it land on the ground vertically. Before you could question further he clicked a very inconspicuous spot on the bo, which was basically a finger-print reader that took half a millisecond to expand out and show off a variety of other weapons attached to his bo.

A saw, a drill, and the list could go on but those were the main two you recognized before it contracted back into stick form as you liked to call it. “Nice,” you nodded, giving Donnie his props where they were due, because it was pretty cool. It was like a multi-tool. You said that aloud too.

“Yeah but way better cause I made it.” Donnie amended because he couldn’t allow himself to be compared to such everyday items. He was better. Much better.

You opened your palm out, “can I try?” Insinuating you wanted a go at holding his stick. Well, his tech bo. But he made you spell it out for him. “Try what exactly?” He asked, right eyebrow raising. “Holding the stick” “It’s not a stick.” “Okay okay, can I try to hold the tech stick?” “Maybe, if you say it properly and also realize that you are most definitely going to hurt yourself with my tech bo.”

You made a face at that. “I most certainly am not!” You retorted and made a grab for the tEcH bO. It was out of your reach before you could even get close. And this game of keep away continued until you, asked with a “pretty please can I hold your almighty tech bo!?” Donnie was satisfied, clearly, with a smug look on his face as he allowed you to snatch it away from his hold. Finally.

You turned it around in your hands. Making slow circles. Donnie immediately trying to coach you on a better method, “Your feet aren’t in the right position~!” He chirped happily, as if correcting you was an absolute pleasure. He continued to badger you, despite your genuine efforts to improve. And at one point it all became too much, like he was being haughty. Holding it over your head that you weren’t catching on quickly.

“I get it Donnie! I suck!” You yelled and brought the metal bo down sharply. Right on your toes. You did have socks on. But the thin material did nothing to prevent the instant pain that had you crumpling down, bo falling out of your hand to instead cradle your injured foot.

It was embarrassing. The loud clatter of the bo hitting the ground, the rush of Donnie coming in close, kneeling to try and analyze the damage. You were so angry and so embarrassed that despite the pain, you pushed him away. Sniffling and whimpering, “Leave me alone!” You cried. And yep you were crying. Rocking back and forth now on your butt in an attempt to somehow ease the pain that was flowing from your toes, through your foot, all the way up to your ankle. Had you broken something?!?

Of course you hadn’t pushed him far, nor hard enough to knock him down. But he felt horrible. He felt like he was the reason this had all happened in the first place. Egging you on and messing with your head, truly being a bit of a jerk. “Just let me look please? It may be broken Y/n, it’s..high grade titanium…” he muttered the last bit because he was in no way trying to show that off in this moment. And the look in your eyes when you finally met his concerned stare was heartbreaking. He saw how red and puffy they were from the agitated tears, your cheeks ruddy as well. “Please?” He tried again. Coming in close hands up and out as a show of meaning no harm.

Slowly, your hand came away from your own toes, and Donnie peeled off your sock and assessed the injury. Light touches here and there and profusely apologized when you hissed in pain. “It’s not broken! Just bruised, pretty badly, I’ll go get some ice and then some wraps, just stay right there, don’t move!” And he was off moving swiftly as went in search for the items he required.

He gave you the ice, letting you decide how much pressure to put on the wound, and he stayed silent as he got out a few different wraps. As your tears dried and the sniffling ceased, you noticed how serious Donnie looked. When he came back down to kneel by your foot, he decided to checkup the entire area. “What about this, does this hurt?” He asked pressing lightly on a different part on the top of your foot. “Not really, it’s all getting kind of numb now,” the ice was doing its magic. He nodded, chewing on his lower lip. “I think I should wrap it now,” he said but made no move to start until you gave him the go ahead.

He was very careful. Taking all the time in the world to make sure the wrapping was perfect. When he finished he sighed, and looked up at you sincerely, “I’m sorry for being such an ass… you were doing really well but I just kept..” he sighed again shaking his head as it dropped. Looking back down at your wrapped foot. “Dee.. we like to get in each other’s nerves, you just did a really great job this time around,” you admitted with a slight laugh. But he only smiled weakly, still feeling so guilty. You huffed and shoved at his shoulder lightly, “hey, honestly I think it was your bo getting back at me for calling it a stick so many times!”

He couldn’t help but smile at that one. If only a little. “How about this? You grovel for the rest of the day, andddd order my favorite pizza?” He was quiet, thinking. “How about I just get the pizza?” Finally looking up and looking a bit better, “I don’t knowwww…” and the two of you were going back and forth once more, laughing it off.

Mikey, bless his heart, was having a fabulous time when it came to your yoga sessions. You had gotten into it and dragged the brothers into your new hobby. But the only brother who truly stuck with it was Mikey. Of course this should’ve been a no brainer, what with his acrobatic skills when it came to soaring into the air, from building to building.

So it wasn’t odd that the two of you were together in the gym alone at the lair. Sometimes he’d come over to your flat and the two of you would yoga in the only big room you had (the living room). But most times it was more convenient to do it in a space that was created with exercise in mind. After getting nice and warmed up, talking about each others day and updating one another on any tea it was time to get down to business.

“What’s on the roster today??” Mikey asked already bouncing lightly back and forth. Pumped to do anything when it came to hanging out with you. “Ahhh let’s see!” All the gossip had left your brain clueless to the new yoga you had learned recently so you needed to open up your phone and check your notes really quickly.

Mikey (ever the busybody) came in close, going up on his tippy toes to peer at your screen. Your elbow went out playfully, hitting him in the side plastron. He feigned injury, staggering back clutching where you had touched. “Betrayal!” He fake coughed. “And I thought Leo was the dramatic one!” You teased further.

At this both hands moved to cover his heart. “Take that back!!” He gasped though he could hardly hide his pleased smile. “And if I don’t??” You countered, forgetting about the phone as the screen turned black under inactivity. “Then I’ll make you!” Mikey’s face turned downright villainous (as much as a cutie patootie can), hands up and fingers at the ready to tickle you into submission.

Immediately you were fleeing. You were no stranger to Mikey’s tickling in fact the last time you had been caught in his clutches you were begging for mercy. You almost gave in right then and there at the memory but you couldn’t help but think that maybe this time you could get away.

Fool. What a foolish thought.

You were a yoga hobbyist. Mikey was a fucking ninja! The odds would never be in your favor, but he did let you think you had a chance. Letting you run around in their home gym, getting by with barely a fingertips distance away. You were breathless by the time he caught you which only worsened when he started tickling at your sides and neck.

He had you trapped, he was on top of you, between your legs, hands moving fast and causing you to laugh out of control. Almost as if it had a mind of its own, your leg jumped out and tried to slam into Mikey’s side to free yourself from further torture. But he had actually bent down lower making the trajectory straight for his head. It must’ve been ninja instincts because he caught your leg easily in a tight grasp.

“Mercy!” You called out breathlessly. To which he clicked his tongue, letting go of your leg to go back to tickling. That obviously hadn’t been what he wanted to hear. “Okay okay! I take it back!” You pleaded, batting away his hands quickly. To which he continued to try and get past until he moved way too fast for you, smacking your chin accidentally when he had been aiming to just tickle your neck.

Time force. As the sound resounded, with your punctuating “Ow!” Mikey froze. Hands still, pupils shaking as it replayed in his mind. He had hit you. Accidentally of course. But. He had hit you. You were still in pain, recovering from the shock and rubbing your sore chin. While he was receding into his shell, his hands moving back into himself as he apologized. “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I don’t know what, it was just so fast, I’m sorry!!” He was blubbering, by the time you opened your eyes to see how much this had hurt him too.

“Angie! I know! Hey, we were just roughhousing! It got out of hand, it’s okay! I know you didn’t mean it. It was an accident!” And he clung to that word. “It really was an accident. An accident. I’m so sorry. What should I do? Lemme see!” His hands moved suddenly to touch your chin but it was like the sight of his own hands getting close to you made him fearful. He retracted once more, squeezing them into fists and putting them to his chest as he moved to get off of you. To give you space.

“Mikey!” You chastised, getting up and following after him. You grabbed his hands, holding them. “Hey hey, it’s okay! Look I’m not afraid of them and neither should you. It was an accident Mikey, plus I’m already feeling better.” Slowly his fists unfurled and you brought his hands up to your face, positioning them to cup your face. He looked up, with a watery smile. “I’m really sorry,” he said one more time. “I know,” you smiled down at him. “It’s okay!” You made sure to say. And he nodded, relaxing a bit as a shaky breath went through his body before his hands held onto you more securely. Rubbing his fingers back and forth soothingly.

Then he moved back, only to jump and tackle you into a crushing hug. “Yoga?” He asked while digging his head into your neck. “Yoga!” You agreed, and he held onto you like a monkey for a bit before clambering off to return to his mat. “Alright alright, position number one!”

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cal-flakes · 10 months

Text

╰┈➤ getting caught with rafe - part two

warnings: blood, violence, swearing, underage drinking.

summary: rafe and y/n attend the annual bonfire. y/n puts herself in the middle of jj and some random kook, resulting in her getting hurt. jj and rafe come together to defend her.

dancing along to the music from her phone, y/n finished up her makeup. the annual bonfire was tonight and she wanted to feel confident. it was also the first time her and rafe planned to go out together as a couple, especially since her brother knew now.

speaking of her brother, y/n hadn’t heard from him in a few weeks. she’d taken rafe up on the offer to stay at tannyhill with him for now.

the argument between y/n and jj was a bad one, they’d never argued like that before. she was devasted by it, but she also flat out refused to go to him first, not until he realised she was serious about rafe.

so into the song playing, y/n jumped when rafe’s knocks echoed around the room. “you ready yet angel?” he asked through the door. taking one last look at her outfit, she practically skipped over to him.

“pick your jaw up, mr cameron” she laughed, leaning into his chest as he beamed at her in awe. “you’re so beautiful, miss maybank” he cooed. her cheeks burning up, she pushed him away jokingly.

ushering her out of the house, “come on” he groaned, provoking a squeal from her as he smacked her ass. rushing to the car, she was almost bouncing on her feet. y/n loved the bonfire weekend, it was her favourite tradition in kildare.

“can i drive? please please please!” she begged hurriedly. “no, not after last time” rafe stated, chuckling at the thought. “boo! you’re so boring!” she pouted, pulling her best puppy dog face. “shush, get in the car”

y/n’s anxiety flared slightly as rafe put the care in park, she knew jj would be there, but she had no idea what to expect.

rafe’s hand on her thigh snapped her out of her thoughts. “it’s gonna be fine princess, stop worrying”

y/n followed behind rafe, holding his hand as he pushed through the crowds of teenagers. reaching the rocks, rafe said his hello’s to kelce and topper, taking a beer from the stand. “is that a pogue on your arm i see cameron?” topper joked, a hint of spite in his words.

squeezing his hand subconsciously, y/n moved to stand behind rafe. she felt the anxiety in her chest. “say that again..” rafe spat, his wild temperament getting the better of him.

topper held his hands up, backing away from his friend. “i was joking man, chill out!” as rafe argued with topper, y/n inspected the crowds, searching for familiar faces.

blue eyes widened below her when jj spotted his sister, up on the rocks with rafe. his foot tapped on the floor incessantly, pure rage building up inside of him.

spotting this, john b patted his shoulder, stepping in the way of his deadly stare. it looks could kill, rafe cameron would be absolutely obliterated.

jj threw his empty can on the ground, barging through the groups of people when someone stopped in.

“watch where you’re fucking going pogue!” the boy behind him sneered, squaring up to the blonde. “the fuck did you just say?” jj spat, returning the tone. “you heard me, go back to your deadbeat daddy!”

y/n’s ears perked up at this, eyes meeting the growing circle of people. before rafe had a chance to blink she was running over, pushing people out of her way.

he followed behind her quickly, alongside topper and kelce. “y/n! it’s not your fight!” he shouted over the crowd, hoping to catch her.

their time of arrival was most unfortunate however, just as y/n stepped in between them, the kook threw the first punch. swinging his arm with such force, it knocked her to the ground immediately.

for the first time ever, rafe cameron and jj maybank were on the exact same page. both instantly throwing themselves into the boy, pummelling him to the floor. everyone around them pushed and shoved, hollering in excitement as the fight played out.

holding her jaw, y/n groaned out in pain as crimson liquid dribbled down her neck, the imprint of the boys ring clear as day.

kiara and pope helped her to her feet while john b pushed jj and rafe away from the kook, attempting to prevent the worst outcome.

gathering their senses, both her brother and boyfriend rushed to her side. “fuck!” jj shrieked, to no one in particular. “jj, i’m fine!” she called, rafe scanning her face for more injuries.

“fine? that bastard just punched my little sister in the face? you think that’s fine?” he shouted again, struggling to ground himself.

“he’s right y/n, he’s not getting away with that” rafe stated, glaring at the now unconscious boy. y/n chuckled amongst them, ignoring the murderous undertones of rafe’s words.

sitting beside her, jj threw an arm around her shoulder, eyeing her split jaw. “damn. you took quite a hit y/n/n” he laughed. “yeah, seems to be something we’re both good at huh?” she joked, seemingly making light of two bad situations.

“you need to go get it checked out?” he asked, implying he’d take her. “no jj it’s fine, rafe’s gonna take me home”

sighing, jj nodded, agreeing with the statement. in no way was he happy about his sisters choice of men, but he respected the way he jumped in for her. “yeah okay, you wanna get her home safely” he ordered, shooting rafe a stern look.

after agreeing with her brother, rafe carried y/n to the car, who insisted she did not need to be carried. “shut up for once, just let me help you” he cooed, face still red with exertion.

“i suppose the night could’ve been worse, huh?” she giggled.

y/n replayed the moment the two men shook hands before parting ways, she thought she’d never see the day.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #dom!rafe #rafe cameron #outer banks #outerbanks rafe #obx #rafecameron #rafe obx

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seresinhangmanjake · 3 months

Text

The One I Want: Part 12

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, emotional stuff and vulnerability, typos

Words: 1766

The One I Want Masterlist

“How?” he says as you remove yourself from his lap. He immediately stands and runs a hand through his hair, then he looks at you. “When?”

The expression on his face is indecipherable, lingering in the realm of confusion and shock, and—looking a bit deeper into his eyes—nearing the cusp of anger.

Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your dress. “After you left."

Jake takes a step away from you, the back of his knee knocking into the coffee table causing a slight stumble. A knife makes a little slash in your heart as he turns his back to you, but then he spins around, opens his mouth, closes it, shakes his head, and finally locks his eyes onto yours. “She knocked on the door.”

You shrug. “I guess so.” Not that it matters. Brit wanted to separate you from Jake so she could get you alone. Whether that was due to her own fist banging on the door or another’s, the goal was achieved. She got to you.

Jake’s tone falls dark, much darker than you could imagine coming from him, when he grinds out, “What did she say to you?”

You don’t instantly respond. It’s a delicate matter simply because you know that, in Jake’s eyes, a line was crossed. Well, not so much crossed as obliterated, but you're not sure how he's going to react, or where that reaction will be directed.

“Tell me,” he demands. You don’t miss the underlying plea.

Clearing your throat, you say, “In a few words?”

“However many you need.”

You nod, glancing down to find your fingers still messing with your dress. You could potentially ruin it with the constant rubbing and picking at the same spot, but that’s not enough to deter the habit. You lick away the dryness of your lips that came after losing the warmth and moisture of his, and you look back up at him. “That it’s only a matter of time before you hurt me.”

Jake’s face crumbles—all darkness lost to devastation—and his body loosens as if about to slump right onto the floor. He manages to stay upright enough to make his way over and kneel in front of you. Though fiddling with your dress is the most comforting method you have to keep nervous energy at bay, your hand doesn’t resist being taken into his.

“You should have told me,” he says, but it’s so weak and desperate that it’s more of a whine. “I could’ve–”

“It was your birthday,” you stop him. “I wasn’t going to ruin it.”

Jake’s thumb runs over your knuckles in a back-and-forth motion—such a common reassurance between you over the last few weeks that you’re not sure if he even knows he does it. It has just become one of those things you do now. He takes your hand, caresses your skin, and in return, you squeeze your fingers around his.

“You think I care more about my birthday than I care about you?” he asks, but after a few moments of your silence, his brow pinches and he says, “Why aren’t you answering me?”

“Jake, I–” you pause to consider the response he’s likely to give, but you don’t want to—can’t—lie to him. So you let the words slide evenly out of your mouth and prepare yourself for the inevitable. “I don’t want to be the cause of good things getting messed up for you.”

Jake regains the strength in his body and stands on perfectly sturdy legs. Your hand falls from his as he, once again, backs away. His eyes narrow, his mind clearly running through all possible reasons why you would say something like that to him, but coming up short on anything that will make him feel better.

“Don’t say that,” he says lowly.

You sigh. “That’s why I kept it to myself.”

Then there is fury growing; a rage threatening to coat the living room that only minutes ago was so peaceful while your bodies and lips and touches were slotted together like puzzle pieces.

“Well that's a bad reason!” he snaps.

“Why?” you shoot back, rising from the couch. “Why is that so bad?”

“Because I don’t want you to start thinking like that!” It’s a shout now; the beginning of a rapid tumbling of words. “You could never mess up anything! But I can’t keep her away from you! I can’t control what she does or says! She’s the one who will mess things up and then I will lose you because you’ll go looking for a twelfth new place, and fuck knows where that will be, which means I won’t have a chance to fix what she destroyed because I won’t even be able to find you!”

His voice echoes, bouncing off the walls, and as words settle in, every ounce of his anger melts into anguish. With a groan, his head falls forward into his hands.

“Fuck,” is muffled by his palms. “I'm sorry.”

You allow yourself to look at him; at the man who is ready to fall apart before you, who cycled through every emotion you've been hoping he wasn’t keeping inside. But you knew of this possibility. You knew that sharing your past with Jake could plant seeds that might have him wondering if you will one day leave him, too, because of circumstances entirely out of his control.

You pictured yourself much more persuasive, though. You’ve changed, Jake changed you, and you thought it was evident enough to keep him from believing that he could fall victim to your old patterns. As it shows, you were wrong.

Easing yourself around the coffee table, you go to Jake—the magnet you’re drawn to—pry his hands from his face, and press your lips to his.

He doesn’t waste a moment adapting to its unexpectedness. Never does, though. Whenever you kiss him when he’s least expecting it, he reacts so quickly—snaking an arm around your waist, tangling his fingers into your hair, moving his lips with yours—as if the taste of your mouth flips a switch inside of him. He returns your kisses with the enthusiasm of a man not wanting to sacrifice a single second of the feeling you give him. He kisses you back like he wasn't just on the verge of shattering.

“Breathe,” you whisper when you break the kiss.

His forehead rests against yours. “I can't.”

“You can.”

Eventually doing as you ask, he inhales and exhales and inhales and exhales, his breath brushing your face until he’s calm enough for you to accept. His hold on you tightens, pulling your body into his.

“Don’t leave,” he says, lips briefly ghosting over yours. “You’re the only one who has made me feel like this since I lost them.”

“Like what?”

“Whole,” he replies. He swallows. “Safe.”

One of your hands slides from his shoulder to rest over his heart. Despite the breaths you requested from him, your fingers practically feel the relentless jackrabbiting thump within his chest. Wild, and yet, heavy, strong. Were you to put your ear up to him, the sound alone would be enough to drown out your other senses.

“Jake, look at me,” you utter, so faint that his non-compliance has you questioning if he heard you; if the drumming beat inside his body is overpowering his head, his ears, and your voice lacks the might to break through.

But then, with great reluctance you can feel, he pulls back.

You almost gasp. The green you love is too green. No longer the grassy hue of a shaded forest floor, but more vivid, like a single leaf from a single tree within that forest shining under morning’s sunlight. It seems odd—unfair—to only see such a stunning green when his eyes are glassy and surrounded by red.

Don’t, you think. Don’t cry. Because then you’ll cry, perhaps sob, for the man who has spent so much of his time working to restore a bit of life into you. Had someone told you when you first moved in that he’d succeed, you would’ve brushed the idea under a rug and taped the edges and corners to the floor to keep yourself from neglecting the likelihood of being let down. But Jake doesn’t let you down. Jake was there and Jake is here, still here, and so are you.

“Why would I leave?” you ask, louder, clearer.

Jake’s gaze travels from your eyes to your nose to your mouth where it remains as he answers. “You said that’s what you do when–”

“When people break me.” The hand not above his heart cups his cheek. “Jake, you haven't broken me. You’re healing me,” you swear. “Ok? You're saving me.”

Maybe it’s because you think of him so often, or that you’ve pictured his face enough to have memorized it, but you continue to see him perfectly through the blur of your tears, so much so that the blur goes unnoticed. When he should be an indistinguishable mass of fuzzy shapes and tan skin and blond hair, you see, as if completely unaffected, the sharp lines and smooth planes and sculpted features of his face.

He’s all you focus on. You don’t feel the tear that gets caught on your chin, or the second tear that joins the first, making it heavy enough to drip onto the floor. You do feel Jake’s thumb gently rubbing the salty trail into your cheek.

“I'm not scared of her,” you continue. “I understand why you’d think I might be, but I’m not. She's not enough to change anything. She won’t make me leave.”

Everything slows after you’ve spoken. Painfully long seconds extend into a minute, during which your vision unblurs and the air surrounding you settles. Jake is silent, and you give him that time. He listened, and now he’s quiet—processing. It's when his eyes finally soften that you know he understands. He knows that what he feels for you is what you feel for him.

His lips curve in a hint of a smile that encourages yours to do the same.

“What?” you say.

He shakes his head and his forehead meets yours again.

“I tell you something, you tell me something,” you remind him.

Jake hums as if he anticipated you calling out the deal he made with you that started it all. Bare heart for bare heart, that’s how it works, and though Jake has already expressed his fair share, you know he won’t deny you a little bit more.

“You’re healing me too, beautiful,” he says, his nose nudging yours. “More than I knew I needed.”

---

Tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @hookslove1592 @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #tgm fic #tgm #jake seresin x plus size!reader #jake seresin fanfic

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sssardonian-ssserpent · 3 months

Text

((Am i the only one that feels like they missed a huge narrative opportunity with Sir Pentious’s death?

Like yes, it is fine and good that he became the first redeemed soul, I’ve since made my peace with that and can concede that it has a ton of interesting narrative potential and ways to forward the plot that they still hope they use him with in season 2, but the way they could’ve made his sacrifice into something that would’ve been a PERFECT way to hammer in the narrative of the show, and yet they turned it into a useless anti-climatic gag that ultimately wasted what they could’ve done with it.

Like, for example, it has been noted and discussed many times in the fandom that the final fight is all about love and compassion triumphing over senseless cruelty. This is seen with how Lucifer comes in to save Charlie when all hope is lost, with how Angel saves the Eggbois from an exorcist because he knows Sir Pentious cares for them, how Cherri is there to help Angel fight because they’re friends and how Husk fights to protect everyone because he’s grown too fond of everyone else to walk away. The only one who ultimately doesn’t fight for love and compassion is Alastor, who tries to fight Adam one to one out of little more than pure ego and spite. And what happens? He gets his fucking shit rocked, is nearly mortally wounded, and flees from the battle entirely to avoid death.

And, ultimately, this is seen in Pentious’s sacrifice, as he takes off in his ship to try and face down Adam because he recognizes that he’s the biggest threat to their defenses and that if he’s allowed to continue his rampage, everyone will die. Of course, we all know how that sacrifice goes; Pentious being instantly obliterated in a single blast by Adam before Pentious can do anything, in a comedically abrupt and anti-climatic gag to offset the seriousness of the moment. And while it was initially funny in the moment, I think it severely weakened the tone of the moment and, ultimately, as I will explain, ruined what could’ve been a grand and drastic moment, not only for Pentious, but for the hope and love Charlie inspired in him.

You see, the line Adam says directly afterward after killing Pentious is “that could’ve been ugly.” Which, to me, heavily implies that if Pentious had actually gotten off a shot, it probably would’ve done damage and actually hurt Adam, which might’ve helped turn the tide of the battle even before Lucifer had shown up.

So then I got to thinking, imagine if he HAD gotten the shot off? Imagine if he HAD actually wounded Adam?

Sir Pentious. A demon constantly craving recognition and attention, who was never able to get it. Someone who was always considered a useless weakling, a laughing stock, a desperate pathetic idiot who was better off dying than ever being able to be anything of worth in the eyes of most demons and Overlords in Hell, despite how hard he tried to become just as fearsome as them. A demon regarded as a nobody, unrecognizable and totally worthless and forgettable, in Alastor’s eyes, and in the V’s.

A demon everyone has looked down and regarded as weak, hurting the First Man, the leader of the Exorcists, wounding him, in a sacrificial effort to protect his friends. Hurting the most powerful Exorcist in Heaven, out of love for his friends, to protect them and save them from death, when Alastor, a selfish and sadistic egotist who didn’t care about anyone else, wasn’t able to put a scratch on him.

Imagine Pentious being able to hurt Adam more in a noble sacrifice to save his friends than Alastor of all demons, who was unable to when he was only fighting for himself. The poeticism in that. The rawness of that, in a story all about how love and compassion and kindness for others can triumph over the most senseless cruelty and hatred.

Imagine if the blast had gone off.

Imagine if it had caught Adam at the last second. Grazing a shoulder perhaps. Burning his wing. Sending him tumbling out of the sky.

He sends a holy blast up toward the ship, enraged by the fact that he got struck by such a lowly sinner, and the ship can’t get out of the way in time, and Pentious knows that.

One of the Eggbois is screaming and shouting about an incoming attack and how the ship is unable to evade.

And Pentious just slowly takes off his hat, and as the light of the holy beam begins to consume the room, he just goes “….I know.”

He dies, accepting his death, not fearing it, knowing that what he did may have been enough to save his friends.

Cut to the ship being instantly obliterated in a massive cacophonous explosion while everyone looks on in horror from the ground.

Wouldn’t that have made his sacrifice, and his consequent redemption in Heaven, so much more worth it? So much more heavy hitting?

Wouldn’t that have made it actually mean something? Instead of it being made into a joke?

#hazbin hotel spoilers #sir pentious

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i-cant-sing · 9 months

Note

What happens to Teen Fushiguro in the Shibuya Arc after Kenjaku & Mahito kidnap her?

Ah yes, I forgot about this one. Okay, so I imagine that they take you underground or wherever their lair is and like idk... cast spells on you to keep you from using your powers against them. You continue to threaten them, hurl insults at them and they find it amusing because 1. You're a child 2. You don't even know how easily they could kill you. 3. You're a child, why are you trying to fight the boss fights??💀

Anyways, you grow on them and they do end up becoming yanderes for you too. I mean, Kenjaku is like grandfather/guardian figure to you, and if like Getou is still alive/concious inside him, then he's like an uncle/godfather figure to you. They're bothe very protective, Getou more than Kenjaku, while Kenjaku is more like those veteran granddads who want you to become the best version of yourself and be independent, so they don't help you unless they absolutely do need to step in, but nevertheless love you. And once you do learn whatever skill/lesson he wanted you to, or actually become independent, he does not want you to use those new skills or become independent and stop relying on him for "protection" (even if u don't want it in the first place) or leave him/try to replace him. Nuh uh.

Same goes for Getou too, only he's far more gentle with you. Of course he wants you to be stronger and independent too, but he's far more likely too jump in to help you way before any true harm befalls you. He's softer in his lessons, always has that gentle smile on his face as he dodges whatever attack you launch on him. Encouraging words as he pats your head while you're on the ground trying to catch your breath.

As for Mahito, he's much more like an annoying older brother who bullies you for shits and giggles but God forbid if anyone else hurts you. I mean he'd still make fun of you for getting hurt, but rest assured whoever harmed you is now obliterated.

Your time with them is spent with Kenjaku provoking you and finding whatever it is that makes you tick and then having you spar with curses or with Mahito (who takes great joy in being a jerk). And sure, compared to all of their other victims, you're in "paradise," but in reality, your mental is taking a plunge very fast. Because Kenjaku and Mahito have realised your trigger point-

Abandonment issues.

So they use that against you. Everyday, they tell you that your father left you, that Megumi never fought hard enough for you because he didn't like you, that Gojo knew Megumi had a sister but he didn't take you in with him, and that the Zenin clan did consider you a nuisance which is why they let Gojo take you to Jujutsu High, just so that Gojo can use you as a weapon.

And sure, you'd argue that none of it is true but when a lie is told enough times, it starts to feel like the truth. So with the constant feed of negative words and being cut off from the outside world, reader couldn't help but believe all those lies, and that's how her self esteem and mental health took a turn for worse. She becomes more isolated, more quiet, more... dead. She lacks the energy to fight off those curses, not even fazed as they come a little too close to actually killing you (obv Kenjaku or Mahito step in before they can). And this is the point where they think that now that they have broken you down, they can start building you up again... and have you join their side of the battle. Of course, you're still against that, just not putting any actual effort into reacting to them, but then... they bring Megumi.

Or well, Sukuna occupying Megumi's body.

You instantly recognised them both- recognised the shift in the energy, recognised the monster who was disguised as your brother and you broke down. Fell to your knees, sobbed hard enough for your body to shake until Sukuna gathered you in his arms and moved to a private space, away from prying eyes.

You cried and cried, and Sukuna didn't need you to actually say anything for him to understand. You were mourning for your brother, who you knew has a target on his back now that he was Sukuna's vessel, who wouldnt be leaving him so easily. He just patted your back and assured you that everything will be alright if you just listen to him, made you remember how he promised that he'd always be there for you, made you promise to stick by his side and nothing bad will ever happen to you.

"Sukuna?" Your teary voice croaked, the curse king hummed in response. "Promise you won't hurt Megumi? Won't let anyone else hurt Megumi?"

Despite everything, you still cared for your brother. You didn't really need him, but the way you begged... Sukuna didn't have the heart to say no.

"Okay. Only if you listen to me." You nodded, sniffling as you rested your head against his shoulder.

From there on, I think that Kenjaku will continue to help you weild your powers to become the perfect vessel for Sukuna (who has actually no intention of using you as a vessel, no he just wants you by his side for eternity, all for him to spoil and pamper). You follow Sukuna's rules, stay indoors and only come out when he let's you accompany him, sometimes he'd let you enter his domain expansion so that you could meet Megumi, who tries to convince you run for your life and don't worry about him.

Now, I like to think that a point comes when Gojo is finally free from the prison realm and is now ready to beat everyone's asses, and that's when Sukuna mentions how he has been having a good time with you, which only provokes Gojo to fucking murder him and even Megumi, before he finally decides to just beat his ass and look for you (probably when you stop Gojo from killing Megumi) and that's how Gojo ends up snatching you away as you scream for Sukuna to not kill Megumi, beg Gojo to let you go because Sukuna would kill Megumi if you're not there. And all of this sounds like Stockholm syndrome to Gojo and the gang, who again, keep you under lock and key.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere Kenjaku #yandere getou suguru #yandere geto suguru #yandere geto x reader #yandere getou #yandere geto #yandere mahito #yandere gojo saturo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere sukuna ryomen #yandere sukuna #yandere sakuna #yandere #yandere gojo #yandere gojo x reader

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