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mockerycrow · 11 months

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could we get “here, you can sleep in my shirt” with neighbor!ghost after the reader gets locked out of her apartment in a thunderstorm maybe? i’m horrible w coming up w ideas but have been EATING UP your works lately!

Downpour (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist - crow’s mega masterlist

“Here, you can sleep in my shirt.”

A/N: LOOOOKKKKKK i usually keep prompts for events and this one got sent in after i ended the celebration, but i had to do it!!! i also apologize this took so long. i also made this gn, i know you used she/her pronouns but i finished this when i realized 🫠 i’m sorry!

[WARNINGS: none, tension perhaps!]

THE ENTIRE DAY, it had been raining nonstop. The humidity was raising by the hour, making everything sticky and somehow even more wet than it was before. You’d try to wipe your hands dry from the rain, but it’s like you were just spreading the water droplets around, the air so humid as it never gave the water a chance to dry up on its own. It didn’t help that your entire day went to shit, too. Your car ended up breaking down and you missed the bus by just a few minutes, making you late for work. You ended up missing the bud on the way back as well, forcing you to walk to work in the rain, and walk back home in the rain.

Lucky you, your boss wasn’t as mad as you expected them to be.

You shudder as your soaking wet clothes stick to your skin, making your way up a few flights of stairs to your apartment floor. You had goosebumps lining your arms under your soaked shirt, your shoulders uncontrollably shaking as you walked down the hall, tracking wet droplets onto the carpet that probably hasn’t been cleaned in a few years, but has one of those designs that hide the dirt and grime. You hiss quietly in an attempt to distract yourself, your hands patting your pockets for your keys. You grab them and pull them out and you insert the key into the key hole and you turn—but the damn metal breaks, your key successfully snapping in half. Your jaw genuinely drops as you stand there for a moment, a tense, “Are you fucking kidding me?” spilling from your lips.

It’s too late to call the building manager to come along and help you, and it’s definitely too late to call a locksmith of some sort. You know none of your friends or family are awake by this point, either. You curse quietly as you bend at your knees and pitifully attempt to wiggle the broken part of the key out of the deadbolt, you even try to turn the key by lining up the base of the key to the shaft—but of course, it doesn’t work. You’re so focused on your door that you don’t notice your neighbor across the hall has opened his door, watching you in silence for a moment. “Today of all days.” You angrily mutter, pathetically kicking the bottom of your apartment door, as if it’ll magically swing open for your convenience. You hear someone clear their throat and you jolt because it’s late, and you didn’t expect anyone to be around.

You turn around and blink when you meet eyes with your neighbor—Simon. He’s standing in the doorway, one hand grasping his door, the other leaning on the doorframe on the side. He’s a big man—tall and muscular, shoulders broad and wide, torso following and tapering off near his waist. His arms were big too, and no doubt his legs are the same. He has a strong jaw with little stubble, his hair a shabby blonde, paired with some dark brown eyes that certainly tell a story. He had a bunch of noticeable scars, but you weren’t one to ask about that sort of thing. You know he has a tattoo sleeve, but you’ve never been close enough to know the details of said tattoo sleeve. The thing that surprised you the most, though, is that he’s home in the first place. You knew that he worked in the military, although he was pretty private about everything concerning himself so you didn’t know details. During your small interactions, you’ve managed to become friends.

“Hi.” You say sheepishly, coddling your keys in your hand. Simon’s eyes roam your body from head to toe before his lips curl into the most subtle smile. “Got caught in the rain, hm?” He rasps out, tilting his head ever so slightly to the right. You nod and almost with comedic timing, you begin to shiver again. “Seems you’ve broken your key, too.” Simon adds unhelpfully, moving his hand from the doorframe. You huff and rub your upper arms in an attempt to somehow keep warm whilst dripping water all over the hallway carpet. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.” You reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Simon huffs, the sound nearing a chuckle as he speaks up. “It’s lieutenant, actually.”

Your eyebrows raise for a moment because Simon actually shared something slightly personal with you—his rank in whatever branch of the military he’s in. “Well.. Lieutenant Obvious,” You begin, your voice coming out as a gentle tremble as the cold hallway isn’t doing you any favors. “It’s nice to see you home safe.” Simon clicks his tongue against the inner of his cheek, his eyes boring into your figure without responding. He seems hesitant, his posture stiff as he scans your face and your body language. Simon makes eye contact with you once again, the air thick with tension until he makes his decision; he slowly opens the door wider and steps out of the way, wordlessly gesturing you to come inside.

You try to hide your total and utter surprise, but it doesn’t last long as you quickly tread into his apartment, seeking warmth. You couldn’t say that you didn’t try to imagine what the inside of his apartment looked like—he always came over to yours. His apartment is fairly blank, but in its own way; it’s homey. Comfortable. It’s one hundred percent Simon. There isn’t really any photos of himself nor his family. There’s a couple of paintings that he’s bought over the years, definitely symbolizing different things you don’t know about him. There’s a couple pairs of shoes on a rack near the front door—some running shoes, a pair of working boots, and a pair of shoes that obviously haven’t been worn in years, judging by the layer of dust covering the toes of the shoes. Otherwise, from what you can judge from standing near his living room, you can tell he keeps everything neat and clean.

You hear the front door shut and lock behind you, and you hear his heavy footsteps begin to approach. “You should get warm. I’ll grab ya a towel. Take a shower, yeah?” His voice is low and nearly rumbling in your own chest as Simon approaches you, and you turn to look at him. He presses his lips into a thin line as he makes eye contact with you again, his eyelids naturally lidded. “I’ll throw your wet clothes in the wash for you in the mornin’.”

You nod and don’t bother to question anything at that time, your skin covered in harsh goosebumps, your clothes no where near the point of drying. “Where’s your bathroom?” Your voice is a bit meek as you speak, the coldness of the water is beginning to get to you. Simon walks over to a clothes basket near the couch, speaking as he does so. “Down the hall, middle door on the left. Door should be open.” You don’t waste any time and you quickly get yourself to his bathroom. You close the door behind you and your hand finds the light switch, flipping it on. His bathroom is a decent size—which is surprising for the size of the apartment. You don’t feel incredibly cramped, which makes sense for Simon.

You peel the soaked clothing off of you and they land on the floor with a gross slopping sound, causing you to wince. You decide to wring the remaining water out of your clothes into the bathtub before putting them in a pile on the bathroom floor, as Simon doesn’t have a clothes hamper in there. You put your phone on the sink counter, and luckily you managed to keep it dry. Being stripped from your sopping clothes, your skin is cold to the touch, but you begin to feel yourself naturally warm up. You draw back his shower curtains and manage to figure out how to operate his shower—you always found other peoples bathtubs and showers to be puzzles to use. You turn the knob a couple of times and feel the water that’s splattering down from the shower head into the tub, and you step into the tub after you deem the temperature the right one.

You close the shower curtain and you huddle yourself under the water that’s beating down onto you—it nearly burns as it’s running against your cold skin, but you grind your teeth and bare it because in reality, it isn’t that hot. You’re just incredibly chilly. You make sure to put your head under the stream of water too, and you’re enjoying the warmth so much you jolt when you hear Simon’s knocking at the bathroom door. Before you can answer, you hear the door open—but just a smidge. “I ‘ave a towel for you here,” Simon announces, raising his volume a bit so you can hear him over the water. “I’ll hang it on the towel rack.”

You shout a quick thank you over the water, hear him shuffle for a moment and then the bathroom door closing with a swift click. You appreciate his offer of comfort, while also respecting your privacy in such a vulnerable space. You make sure to take your time in the shower; allowing yourself to bask in the warmth coming from his pipes, the water running over your shoulders and down your torso, replacing any sense of coldness you’d earned by getting stuck in that rain. Eventually though, you decide it’s time to get out. You sigh and turn off the water, and you open the shower curtain and lean over to grab the towel. You shake the water off of your feet before stepping onto the bath mat in front of the tub and you get to work drying yourself.

Simon eventually knocks on the door again and opens it, but just enough for him to shove his hand through the crevice. In his grip is a shirt and some sweatpants with drawstrings. “Here you can sleep in my shirt. Your stuff is in the dryer.” His voice is low and muffled, and you smile a bit to yourself as you quickly snatch up the clothes. “Thank you, Simon.” You say with a soft tone, examining the clothes in curiosity. “Of’course,” Simon begins. “I got you set up on the couch, too. You’re welcome to my refrigerator as well.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise because this is such a drastic difference than a few months ago—probably a year ago by now. “Thank you..” You can’t help but repeat yourself, gratitude lacing your voice. He responds with a simple grunt before closing the bathroom door again.

You dry yourself off completely and you slip the shirt on, as well as the sweatpants. You tighten and tie the drawstrings if you need to, and despite these clothes being clean, they smell like Simon one hundred percent. You don’t complain, though; he smells kind of like freshly raked soil mixed with bourbon, as well as something you don’t quite recognize, but you guess is gunpowder. It’s comforting. It’s a main reason why you know Simon is home half the time; if the hallway smells like him, just a bit.

You find your heart skipping a beat and you can’t get the dopey smile off of your face as you hang the damp towel up on the towel rack, unable to stop thinking about Simon’s sudden kindness. You feel kind of special, from him letting you into his apartment all of a sudden. You take a deep breath in the bathroom mirror before opening the bathroom door, preparing yourself mentally on your neighbors couch; the neighbor you admittedly don’t know too well and probably shouldn’t trust so easily, but you do anyway. And it seems like he’s beginning to trust you, too.

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gonzo-rella · 2 months

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Headcanons: Being Married To Old Man Ray Stantz

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): old man!Ray Stantz x gn!also old!reader (romantic)

Warnings: Possibly inaccurate science words, because I'm a simpleton. (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: Here's my first Ghostbusters thing! I've got a few other Ghostbusters fics in the works, mostly Ray-based reader-inserts because I'm in love with him, but I've also got a Phoebe-centric character study in the works that's based on part of her storyline in Frozen Empire. By the way, I loved Frozen Empire! I've already seen it three times, and it's such a joy. I'll try to catch it a couple more times at least before it leaves cinemas. Anyway, I haven't included any explicit spoilers for Frozen Empire in this, so you're safe to read this if you haven't seen it yet. I'd love to write more old man Ray Stantz fics, especially something involving Phoebe. I'm really excited to write for Ghostbusters, so feel free to send in requests! I've only seen the movies, but I plan on watching the Real Ghostbusters at some point soon. Also, even though I took my mum to see Frozen Empire the other day, I still don't have anyone to talk to about this movie, so please feel free to talk to me about it!)

It’s evident that, even after all of these years, Ray is still madly in love with you.

The adoration with which he looks at you is clear as day.

Venkman has always loved to tease you both about how sickly sweet your relationship is.

He will make fake gagging when either of you are affectionate to one another when he’s around.

(He won’t admit it, but he actually finds your relationship to be kind of cute)

It’s not like either of you are overly lovey-dovey, especially now.

Ray’s naturally a very passionate and expressive guy, but he’s rarely mushy.

Still, you show one another how much you care.

I have this idea that your silent way of saying ‘I love you’ to each other is holding the other’s hand, stroking their knuckles with your thumb and smiling at them.

It just seems so cute to have this thing that you’ve been doing for your whole relationship.

Ray knows you like the back of his hand, and you know him just the same.

It’s almost scary how well you know one another.

I can imagine that there’s been a time that someone’s asked one of you a question, and the other has been able to answer it with ease.

I love the idea of Ray being with someone who’s not a scientific mind like himself.

So, if you’re not as knowledgeable about the supernatural as Ray, you’ll still have picked up on plenty of information against your will, and Ray will always be impressed with and proud of you when you manage to regurgitate or understand his ‘science-y word salad’ (as you have referred to it).

He will also find it very attractive when you talk supernatural or science to him, but he tries not to make it obvious.

His eyes still light up like he’s a kid on Christmas when he explains supernatural stuff to you or tells you about a new psychically charged item he’s bought, and you find it so endearing.

Also, I can imagine him practically forcing you to listen to Podcast’s podcast when he discovers it, and you both end up getting really into it.

As devoted as he still is to his work and his supernatural endeavours, spending time with you is his greatest priority.

He might miss being an active Ghostbuster, but the silver lining of it is that he gets more time with you than he ever used to.

Even if you both used to be Ghostbusters, it’s nice to spend time together that doesn’t involve being covered in ghost slime and shouting over nuclear accelerators.

If you’ve not got anything else to do, I think it’d be sweet if you kept him company in his store.

Phoebe and Trevor are your honorary grandkids and you and Ray are beyond proud of them, especially Phoebe, who you’re closest to of the two of them.

Phoebe will always remind the both of you of Egon, so whenever she does something particularly Egon-like, you will exchange a knowing glance, and when she’s gone you’ll end up reminiscing about your old friend.

If Phoebe or the other Spenglers ever want to hear about Egon, you’re both more than happy to talk to them about him.

Even in his golden years, Ray is still the same sweet, passionate, excitable man you married all those years ago.

Sure, the regular excitement that came with Ghostbusting is long behind you both, but you both cherish this quieter time together just as much.

#ghostbusters x reader #ray stantz x reader #ghostbusters #ray stantz #x reader #x gn!reader #x gender neutral!reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #phoebe spengler

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under-cotton-and-calicos · 6 months

Text

Take Me Back To Eden

Multiple Ghosts x AFAB Reader

AN: It’s been a long while. I’ve been busy [insert unhinged ao3 author life update here]. This has been sitting in my drafts for the LONGEST time jeez. Wasn’t really satisfied with any of the directions it took so I finally sat down and committed to something. May or may not have a sequel. I recommend listening to “Descending” by Sleep Token while you read this. As the title implies, I’m kinda obsessed with the band right now. Enjoy!

tags: cult sex, orgy, heavy dubcon, ghosts, ancient deity, mind manipulation, oral sex, vaginal penetration, rough sex, WEIRD CUM

Word count: 3.9k

With a pathetic sputter, the incessant humming of your old corolla’s engine gives way to silence. For a few moments, you sit in the dark and quiet, a mixture of excitement and anxiety raising goosebumps on your skin. You’ve done this hundreds of times, you’re sure that today you’re going to get your big hit. It has to be.

You slam your car door shut and take a deep breath, a gym bag filled with equipment and cameras slung over one shoulder, your free hand guiding the beam of your heavy duty torch across the entrance of the abandoned bar. The old, faded sign perched above its entrance is unreadable, faintly you can make out traces of looping letters. Its battered and dusty exterior belies the rumours you’ve heard about the place.

You were supposed to come with your posse, but every single one of them had work or family issues that cropped up at the last minute. Not one to be deterred by fear, you ended up making the drive down alone. In spite of the cool night, your skin is warm with anticipation as you cross the threshold and slip into the bar.

Not much is known about its origins or history- it’s a small, rundown lot in a slow and quiet part of town, so no one has ever paid it much attention. It had been a hole-in-the-wall style pub that attracted a small and dedicated group of patrons before mysteriously closing abruptly. Hours of digging through the net gave you enough reason to suspect that there was an abnormal cause behind why it still hadn’t been bought out for decades, though. The reports of ghostly apparitions in the crevices of obscure forums led you down a rabbit hole. Soon enough, you managed to find a video posted online, taken by some teenagers roped in by a bet. You studied it for hours, pausing at every frame.

You can still remember the sweet thrill, the goosebumps that formed on your skin when you noticed the wispy, grey figures hidden behind corners in several frames. Jackpot.

Your friends had told you that they were edited but your gut told you otherwise. There was a genuine fear in those kids’ eyes, you bet on it.

As you manoeuvre through old tables and chairs, you notice that the furniture is still well kept, barring the fact that everything is covered in layers of dust.The retro style bar, stools and shelves are all in good condition, though lacking bottles of booze and the typical drink making paraphernalia. Maybe someone still cares for the place?

You notice a few doors that hadn’t been explored in the video, so you try each handle, one of them leading to an empty storage room, another leading to a kitchen behind the bar, the next to a decrepit restroom. Curiously, there’s a long stairway behind a stuffy curtain going down to what you presume is a basement door. There’s an inlaid symbol on the door, made from burnished golden metal, its fine quality at odds with everything else in the bar. You’ve never seen anything like it before- the silhouette of a tree firmly rooted to the earth, its branches and roots reminiscent of…horns?

There’s something compelling about it. Your stomach dips at the thought of you opening the door, but you want to. There’s something on the other side of it.

When you yank on the handle, it doesn’t budge, breaking you out of your momentary stupor. You shake your head and blink.

Caught up in the moment?

“Damn.” You sigh. Typically, you would leave lockpicking to another one of your friends. There isn’t much you can do about it, so you decide to set up a few thermal cameras overlooking the tables and bar, as well as an REM pod for proximity detection on the countertop.

Kneeling behind the countertop, you turn on your spirit box, its harsh white noise filling the quiet. Through the static, you call into the night.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

There’s no response, but you introduce yourself and continue. You’re well accustomed to this pattern already, after years of this. The hauling of equipment, meticulously setting everything up, dicking around for a few hours and then packing up and heading home. Keep the time spent idle low, and expectations even lower. Perhaps it’s because you’re alone tonight. There’s a charge in the atmosphere, a certain secrecy and wonder to the ritual.

“I'd really like it if you told me your name.”

“Like.” The artificial, crackly word emerges from the static.

“Yes, I’d like it if you introduced yourself too.” You wait a few more moments before the next word. For a while, monosyllabic words are all you receive. So you dig and prompt until you tag onto something.

“More.”

“More?”

“M…More tha-an.”

“There’s more than one of you?” You say, peering around the empty bar. There’s no sign of the specters from the video, only swirling mites of dust suspended in the air under the glow of your torchlight. “Where are you?”

“H-Here.”

Suddenly, your REM pod flashes green, red, blue against the shadows, signalling that something is close by, very close by. But instead of its typical bleeping, a warbled wail echoes through the empty bar, causing you to flinch from how loud it is. The fuck?

You turn around and direct your torch towards the pod. Your heart falters.

A crowd of grey specters are standing behind the counter, their forms towering over where you’re kneeled on the ground. Their bodies are featureless, rippling as though they could blink out of existence at any moment, at odds with the physical realm. For a second, you can’t bring yourself to do anything. You feel dread, you're stunned, but underneath it all, the irrational, ghost hunting geek in you is baffled. Holy shit, holy shit.

You jump to your feet, backed against the shelves. Their heads tilt upwards, following your movement. And then you’re fleeing, terror driving you to run from the very situation that you’ve been chasing down for years.

The moment you’re behind the steering wheel, you step on the gas, your corolla protesting as it's jolted out of its sleep and forced to shoot down the empty street. You don’t stop to turn and look.

“Wait.” A real voice overlaps with the one coming from your spirit box still clutched in your sweaty palm, but you don’t stop, turning the corner around the countertop and passing through an ethereal, translucent arm reaching out to stop you. You burst out of the bar into the cooler night air and shakily jam your key into your car, cursing as you struggle to get the door open.

Holy shit, you chant over and over again, they’re real, they’re real!

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

Your alarm wakes you from a restless slumber, one of many in the past few months. With a groan, you fumble for your phone with your eyes still closed and turn it off.

“Fuck…” You curse at the soreness in your back and slick between your legs. It happened again last night.

Tugging your underwear down, you stare at the sticky mess you’d created in your sleep. Glimpses of your dream, or nightmare, flash through your head, sending a quiver down your spine. Your breath hitches at the thought, you palm your stiff nipples through your ratty old shirt and begin fingering your cunt, warm and dripping wet.

You’ve been tormented by a string of dreams lately, each one leaving you aching in the morning. So much so that you have had to incorporate masturbation into your morning routine. It’s never satisfying though, your fingers and toys don’t come even close to what you experience in the nasty recesses of the dreamscape hidden in your mind. All of them are vivid and realistic, but when you wake, you can only recall little snatches- greedy hands taking their fill of your body and being bent over, being filled…being defiled.

And with your equipment left at the bar, what can you do? There is no evidence of your findings. You can’t tell your friends that you’ve been having wet dreams almost incessantly since that night alone in the bar. You would seem like a lunatic.

But it wouldn’t be wrong to call this a kind of madness. Frantic and possessive. Bodies cast in vibrant colour, shadowed and swaying against you. Cast in the black behind your eyelids is a gold insignia, beckoning you closer and closer.

With a whimper, you cum, body folding over and shaking as you ride out your climax. Temporarily satiated, you slump back into your pillows dramatically, staring at your ceiling. Something from that bar had followed you home. And you want to go back.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

The empty district is just as quiet as it was the last time you were here. It’s a cold night, and you tug your sweater around your shoulders as you lean back in your car seat. It’s undeniable that you’re a little scared- you feel like one of those idiot teenagers in horror movies that get themselves killed for wandering recklessly into danger. Again, something tells you that it’s different. Or maybe you’re just horny.

With your torch in one hand and your phone in the other, you enter the bar. All of your equipment is just as you left it. You trace your finger over the REM pod on the countertop, dusty but intact. It’s…quiet.

What did you expect? To get jumped the moment you came in? There’s no sign of the specters as well. You’re a bit disappointed, because it means that those dreams you’ve been having might not have been supernatural at all, and worse, the specters might have been a figment of your imagination.

Just as you resolve to pack up your things and leave, a sliver of light catches your eye, cast against the dark floor. Purple light streams between the curtains that lead to the locked basement. Your heart begins to pick up pace again, and you rush over, brushing aside the thick, heavy fabric to see the stairway down illuminated. The door is open!

“H-Hello?” You call out, flicking your torchlight off and leaning it against a step. With hesitant steps, you descend, eyes adjusting to the dim artificial light. You know this atmosphere, this tension in the air from the distinctive purple haze of your dreams. Almost instinctively, your core warms and you can feel yourself shiver, a conditioned response.

When you reach the base of the stairs, your breath stalls in your throat and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips. The same apparitions that have been haunting your dreams are there, facing you, as if waiting for your inevitable return. Your nervous eyes scan the rest of the room, it looks like you’ve stepped into another realm entirely- gone are the cheap and neon plastics of the bar, there’s a pool of fabrics and pillows, and an altar, carved from stone with tall pillars of candles by its sides.

Dazed, you don’t realise that you’ve been walking until you’re a few feet in front of the specters, their heads following you uncannily.

“I-I…” You sputter, jittery under their heavy, obscured gaze. They haven’t even done anything to you yet, but your head is all cotton and gauze. Slowly, you sink to your knees.

“My dreams. I’ve seen you there.” You say, awe-struck. A delicate voice replies, soft as a gossamer sheet.

“I am glad that you’ve returned.” It confuses you. You’re not sure if the voice is coming from one of the specters before you or if it’s echoing through your head, like you’re on a phone call with someone in the same room as you. Up close, their forms are ethereal, shimmering and tinted purple from the lights, shifting ever-so-slightly.

You can still make out the shape of a mouth and a nose on their faces, as well as outlines of their limbs and hands. One reaches out to you, fitting the curve of your cheek in the palm of their hand- your eyes widen at the touch, it feels real, cold but solid against you.

“Good one…pretty one…” They close around you, clamouring to touch you. A hand combs through your hair, traces the curve of your ear, another slides past the collar of your shirt to the dip between your shoulder blades, and one presses its fingers against your lips.

Strange, you think, opening your mouth obediently for the cold fingers to savour the wet warmth of your tongue. Every cell in your body is alight, bristling with energy and ready to burst at the seams. This is what you’ve been wanting for so, so long.

How could I have been terrified of them before this?

“More, more.” Not enough of you is exposed it seems. You shed your sweater, your hard nipples visible through thin fabric. The atmosphere bristles a bit, you think, as you finally discard your shirt, your breasts and inviting skin on display for them to grab at, their touch growing more hungry.

They whisper, trailing lower and lower. You close your eyes for just a moment, the jostling bodies around you giving way to darkness as you relish in the feeling of hands that grope your chest, firm nipples being pinched and tugged at, your bare body slowly becoming accustomed to their supernatural chill. Something bumps against your lips and you smile, opening your eyes once again to bat your eyelashes up at the specter that has its stiff cock in hand, unabashedly asking for entry.

You open wide, sticking your tongue out for the specter to slide its head against you. You think you hear a whimper, and you’re pleased to feel it twitching as you close your mouth around it, humming as you bob your head and take more of its length down your throat. It’s solid, hard like a human’s, and you can feel the bump of veins trailing down its shaft. Behind you, one kneels down and presses its torso up against your back, a hand cupping your soaking sex and another kneading your breast.

“Here…!” Two more specters hovering over you tug at your arms impatiently, wrapping your hands around their own dicks. Obliging their requests, you stroke them lazily, eyes flitting between all of the spirits that surround you. The ones that are not latched to your body stand a short distance away, fisting themselves, undoubtedly staring at you get busy. Underneath their innumerable gaze, you’re exhilarated, and a thought flits through your mind- they’ll all have a chance to run you through later, and you’ll be able to experience it all in reality.

The specter shoves two fingers into your needy hole, grinding them against your sweet spot. You falter, but the specter that’s in your mouth clamps its hands around your head, sinking so deep that your face is flush with their crotch. The two rut into your tightened grip, gasping and groaning fills your head.

“So good…so good…Ah!”

When a finger flicks at your clit, you cum hard, body arching and thighs quaking. You’re stunned momentarily, and you swallow back the spit pooling in your throat, squeezing around the specter. Suddenly, its grip in your hair grows stronger, bordering on pain as it cums too, cold, thick liquid shooting into the back of your throat and covering your tongue. It tastes like nothing, you note, gasping for air when it detaches from you and releases its grip on your head.

What catches you off guard is the colour of its seed, a thick white substance that drips down your chin onto the floor between your legs, giving off an otherworldly glow. Immediately, another takes its place- the one on the right that had you fisting its cock guides it into your mouth and plugs you up again. This one is less patient, it holds you in place and fucks into your mouth. They use you like a sex toy, taking turns occupying your hands and mouth, grabbing at your chest and fingering your cunt. Any hesitation or endearing nervousness that occupied the specters has disappeared, and you’re elated. You lose count of how many have cum on you, they spill on your face, your chest, covering you in their ungodly semen. It becomes a dizzying cycle, and between your climaxes and theirs’, you lavish them with all that you can give, just as you did in your dreams. What you can take down your throat, you do gladly, an appreciative hum is your reward when you obediently swallow and accept the spurts of cum onto your body.

Suddenly, after a specter smears its cum across your tits, you’re pulled to your feet. Shaky and tired legs unable to support your body, you’re carried over to the altar that you saw earlier and laid upon it. It’s the perfect height, and you groan as a specter grinds its cock against your wet folds. Your legs are spread wide apart, and the empty spaces around you are quickly taken by eager spirits. They pause though, and seem to wait for something patiently. A name is called, something unintelligible, not in the human tongue, not anything you’ve heard before.

They say something in an alien tongue, and look upwards to the ceiling. There is something you didn’t notice before, the same sigil as the one on the door is painted there. In a split second, a collage of memories are made clear in your mind’s eye- you see offerings of wine and food, people kneeling before hulking statues and trees, orgies in secluded areas where hedonism flourishes, lush with the scent of sex and flowers.

The specter between your legs breaks you out of your reverie, and you’re suddenly in the basement once again, fully aware of your dripping cunt, the need. There’s an energy in the room that wasn’t there previously, charged and crackling. You groan when it fits its bulbous head against your entrance, hands kneading the flesh of your thighs as it enters you. And finally, finally you are one with them. You stare entranced at where you are joined, its thick, translucent cock stretching your starved cunt.

“Fuck me, please.” You rasp, throwing your head back when it begins to thrust into you, setting a brutal pace. Again, the specters crowd around you and put you to work. Closing your eyes, you lose yourself in the wave of pleasure, the friction of the heavy cock in your pussy, the numerous hands that guide you and delight in the touch of your skin.

“You…you…” The voice bristles in your head, and there it is again- snatches of that scene and the voice, it’s getting stronger. You can barely focus, between the ghostly bodies all around you and the thread of a connection to It. They’re both equally addictive- the delicious stretch and fill, the wandering hands all over your overstimulated body, and the irresistible draw to something powerful and primordial. Closer, closer, closer.

The specter fucking into you quivers, its pace quickening and its thrusts growing shallower. It’s about to cum inside you, and you wrap your legs around its translucent torso to force it even deeper inside. In response, its hands grab your hips with so much force that you’re sure they’re going to bruise.

“Perfect.” The word is whispered into the shell of your ear, low but with the power of a command. Instantly, you feel like euphoria has flooded your body, too much of it. Every sensation is painfully amplified, the bliss of each thrust between your legs rapturous and overwhelming. You cum, and the specter does too, you can feel its cold seed like ice in your hot, hot cunt, flooding you, seeping into your being. Every cell in your body is screeching from pleasure so high that it hurts.

“Oh. Too much?”

There’s tears streaming down your cheeks. Your thoughts are melting together and no words form on your tongue, all you can manage is a pathetic nod as your body seizes in agony and orgasmic bliss.

“Apologies, it’s been a while.” It says, and just as quick as it compelled you, the euphoria is sapped from your body. The relief is another form of pleasure, and as you relax, you feel a gush of liquid seep past where you’re joined to the specter- you’re squirting, a puddle of it forming on the altar and dripping onto the floor.

“Sensitive, aren’t you?” It whispers again, cool and calm as you gasp for breath. “I like it.”

“What…what-” You’re cut off by the specter dragging its cock out of you, leaving you gaping for the next one in line. You let out a high-pitched whine as the mix of semen and your slick spills out of you. As though to comfort you, one specter cradles your cheek and promptly nudges its dick past your lips. They seem to be oblivious to the conversation going on, or they carry on in spite of it.

“Don’t think. Just let go.” Another cock is thrust into you, barely giving you any reprieve as it pounds into you, intent on getting you filled again.

What are you?

“A vague question gets you a vague answer.” It tuts, “I am the bliss that found its way into your dreams, the cruelty that left you wanting more, and the hunger that brought you back here to me.”

Hands reach out to pinch and twist your nipples and clit, forcing you to let out a muffled yelp.

“It hardly seems fair for you to pay little attention to those who have been fucking you so vigorously. Well, given that you can’t form a coherent thought, the ones that have you speared on their cocks are my most devoted followers. They have been so gracious as to offer their spirits for my perusal.”

And now you understand- it’s a god, an ancient deity on the ceiling looking down upon you, casting its impartial and frigid gaze on this debauchery, orchestrated for its sake.

“And you, my little pleasure, are the first taste of life I’ve had down here in a long time.” Its tone has a vicious bite, excitement palpable. At that, the specters, or puppets in you cum, the elation of their master influencing their own pleasure, no doubt. You choke around the cock forced down your throat, cutting off your breathing until it pulls free from you and you choke down air and seed.

You’re so replete, so tired, you’re not sure whether you can take anymore-

“You will.”

Warily, you sweep your gaze across the hoard of hungry spirits hunched over you.

“After all, isn’t this what you wanted?”

Throughout the night, you’re used over and over, your poor cunt fucked and filled more times than you can count. Just as you think it may end, another specter is between your legs, alternating between lapping up the mess between your legs and pumping its seed into you again. All while some ancient and cruel god speaks to you. With each climax, you feel your consciousness slipping further away, the teasing and praise of the voice in your ear growing ever more distant…

When you wake, you’re exhausted. The specters had disappeared, leaving you on the altar. Despite the throbbing in your core and muscles, you manage to pull your clothes back on and make your way up the stairs, the unpleasant stickiness of your skin urging you to get home as soon as possible so you can take a shower.

A draft sends a chill down your spine, a whisper like a caress brushes past you.

I’ll see you soon, little pleasure.

You’re relieved to see your corolla on the streetside, and as you limp to your car you make a mental note to pack up your equipment the next time you’re here.

#monster x reader #monster x human #terato #monster lover #terato writing #monster nsft #nsft #cult stuff #COTTON HAS FINALLY POSTED SOMETHING #HUZZAH!!!!!#exophilia

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viintxgephrxg · 1 year

Text

— rodan.

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley/younger!reader [gn]

genre: platonic

fandom: call of duty: modern warfare 2

summary: rodan and ghost have been partners for as long as the younger could remember, after a tragic accident that resulted in the loss of their entire team they decided to stick with the masked man permanently…. surprisingly, he wasn’t opposed to that

c/w: blood and death, depictions of violence and gore, war/militant violence, gender neutral terms and pronouns (they/them), gender unspecified

a/n: there’s gonna be several different parts because the campaign is long as all fucking hell 😭 but i want to write out the entire thing w reader insert so.. hope you enjoy this little snippet!

—

the sun was scorching. blistering as it burned, it’s rays hot and stifling across the torrid desert plains of al mazrah, united republic of adal.

and even more stifling and oppressively warm against the back of one [y/name] [l/name]. callsign; rodan. an expert in pyrotechnics and demolitions, a ‘one hell of a shot’ sniper, and a pretty thoroughly trained medic. the callsign was their idea actually, being an avid godzilla fan growing up and having watched the entire series beginning to end at least a dozen times.

their commanding officer at the time of choosing it agreed wholeheartedly. though, his was less based on fantasy movies and more so based on [y/name]’s strange fascination with anything that is fire and demolitions. even stranger was their seemingly vast and deep knowledge of the subjects. “rodan huh? fire demon indeed ain’tcha kid?”

[y/name] swore through and through they weren’t a pyromaniac. though their partner, ghost, had a hard time believing that after a mission in peru. which not only resulted in a new scar across their face.. but also an enemy building being set ablaze and leveled to the ground at their hand. the tick that set him off about their weird love of all things fire and demolitions was their manic laughter as the building collapsed.

the callsign made sense to him now, but when he was first partnered with the kid he was set off by their strange obsession, and sharply polished fighting skills. now though, he knew the kid was —excluding their persona on the battlefield— relatively harmless.

couldn’t say the same for their incredible talent in working every last one of his nerves though—

“uuggghhhh.”

—ghost sighed under his breath, though he wouldn’t ever admit it the annoyed feeling he had was stitched with a deep and profound fondness and love for the whining sniper walking behind him.

“keep walkin’.” he grumbled.

“it’s so fucking hot,” they complained. halting for a moment to tug at the bunched up fabric of their tactical joggers creasing up their crotch.

“it’s just the fuckin’ sun kid,” ghost responded.

“well the sun is shitting all over me,” [y/name] grouched, “everything’s rubbing and pinching! i’m in need of some baby powder or something!”

“what you need is a fuckin’ muzzle.” ghost teased, though his comment was insulting his tone let the younger soldier know he was only playing.

“oh wow that was a good one,” they mocked, “it was still a good one the last seventy fucking times you used it.”

“if i’ve had to say it seventy fuckin’ times maybe it’s time to do a little self reflectin’.”

[y/name] feigned a laugh, then dropped their expression to annoyed as they glared at him from the corner of their eye. not that he could see them side-eyeing him past their black tactical goggles. or see their expression through the black tactical mask on the lower half of their face. “you’re so fucking funny. honestly, i’m in goddamn stitches over here.”

ghost let one corner of his lips pull up into a jibing smirk behind his mask, the banter between him and the pyromaniac succeeding in lightening his mood—

“i’m not havin’ a good time either but i’m not gonna whinge the entire time.”

—only slightly.

“well that’s the difference between you and me, that and i’m very good looking.”

“and humble.”

[y/name] laughed, an actual laugh spilling from their lips at his response to their arrogance. ghost spun around, having turned to face the sniper when they stopped to pull the pinching wedgie out of their ass and the pair remaining where the stood throughout the duration of their conversation. “let’s keep movin’. we’re nearly there.”

the masked man didn’t bother turning over his shoulder to make sure they were following, he knew they’d dutifully fall in step behind him as he stalked through the desert plain. and [y/name] did just that, after tugging the creases in their pants loose again.

the sniper didn’t complain much after that, finding a bit of solace in the cool shadows of the canyon they entered, and the way their tactical goggles blocked out most of the reflective light.

if they were to complain about anything other than the sheering heat and blinding sunshine, it would be the mask over the lower half of their face that was making it a touch harder to breathe. they figured ghost was well past his limits with their grousing though so they kept that little problem to themself.

they continued forward regardless, following their partner as he climbed rocks and vaulted over old and withered dead logs. until finally, they made it to their assigned checkpoint.

it was an overhanging ledge, one that had a crystal clear vantage point of the relatively large militia gathering several miles ahead and on level ground.

and that there was their assignment. an arms deal iranian terrorists were to make with russia, and the iranian’s qud’s force general; ghorbrani was due to be there. their mission was to assassinate him. with commander graves of shepherd’s ‘shadow company’ leveling the rest of the gathered militia with a short range missile.

[y/name] let ghost communicate to laswell, and everyone else on their channel that they were in position. graves responded he was ready to launch the missile when they were. with that the masked man turned to his partner at his side. “go ahead kid.”

[y/name] nodded then got down onto their stomach, inching forward in an army crawl until they could perch their rifle right at the very rim of the cliff they were on. when it was set firmly into the grooves of the sandstone they leaned forward and peered through the scope, swiveling the barrel until the crosshair aligned perfectly with general ghorbrani’s head. “set.”

ghost nodded at their word of confirmation then reached up to click the button on the radio strapped to his shoulder. “rodan is clear. launch the missile.”

“copy, sending now.”

[y/name] counted the seconds down in their head, listening in to graves’ countdown as well just to be sure they aligned the shot perfectly.

when they reached two together rodan clenched their finger and pulled the trigger, they watched through their scope as ghorbrani’s head jerked to the side with a geyser of blood before his body dropped.

the men surrounding him panicked, scrambling about and lifting their guns. and that’s all [y/name] saw before they pulled away from their scope and ducked their head into the crook of their elbow. bringing their opposite arm up to cover their head as the missile made contact.

a loud and piercing explosion erupted in their ears as the missile made contact, they felt the rush of wind from the explosive then the rumble of the earth through their gear and uniform.

when [y/name] lifted their head from the cover they saw the area had been demolished, and the smoke from the missile rolling outwards in a ring from the contact point.

“bloody fuckin’ hell,” they heard ghost mutter quickly followed with; “direct hit. target destroyed.”

[y/name] lifted themself from the ground and dusted off the front of their gear, swiping their hand quickly over their pants to get the dust collected on the fabric off.

the dust didn’t puff up in a cloud as they patted their pants though, the sandy colored dirt sticking to their joggers. they grumbled and let the rifle slide from their hands to hang at their hip before using both hands to try and pat it off. again… no avail.

[y/name] growled angrily as their patting and dusting turned aggressive to try and get rid of the shit all over their pants.

“quit fussin’ with it!” ghost growled grabbing their wrists and tugging them away from their joggers. having been watching them grow more and more irritated with the dust in their pants.

“it’s gonna annoy the hell outta me!”

“try to ignore it!”

“i can’t do that if i already know it’s there!”

“well it obviously ain’t gonna come off! just get movin’ back to extract!” he order firmly and in finality, the sniper grumbled under their breath as they spun around when he released their wrists.

ghost followed behind them as they both trekked back the way they came, walking just about a mile or two before coming upon the heli sat idle on a leveled plateau. the pilot still sat in the front with his arms folded and his head dropped forward on his chest.

[y/name] stifled their laughter at the ‘dad pose’ the pilot took to taking a nap and ghost huffed before he roughly pushed them forward. the sniper having stopped to leer humorously at the sleeping soldier. “get your ass in the damn helicopter.” he growled.

[y/name] didn’t say anything as they clambered into the chopper through the gaping door, settling relatively quick on the seat up against the wall of the chopper. they heard ghost knock on the window with his knuckle, the soldier awakening with a flinch as he turned to the source of the noise to find ghost gesturing they were ready to ship out.

the pilot nodded as he slid on a headset and flicked several switches above his head to get the helicopter going. the headphones over their ears muffled out the loud shriek of whirring blades as the bird started up.

ghost climbed in and took the seat directly across from his partner, after sliding on a headset of his own he found himself staring at them.

[y/name] didn’t pay him any mind, long since having grown used to the way he likes to observe and keenly watch everything around him.

they instead lifted their fingers to the sides of their goggles and pulled them off from over their eyes to rest on their hairline. then reaching back, loosened the tightening buckles of their mask, they held it while they tugged down the black tactical shemagh they usually layered underneath their metallic mask down to bunch up in their neck. then let the black steel mask drop to sit in the space of their neck atop of it.

ghost’s focus was immediately drawn to the scars on their face, the one spanning across the left side of their face particularly. starting thin at their hairline and thickening as it scratched over their eyebrow, eye and ended in the middle of their cheek.

then his eyes graced over the one across the right side of their lips, the small x scar on their right cheek, and then finally the medium sized one just above their right eyebrow. that was the one they obtained in peru, when one of the assailants they were fighting managed to knick them with his knife.

when they leaned their head back, closing their eyes with a sigh, ghost could just barely see the thick and jagged scar spanning across the length of the front of their neck. the scar anyone could tell was from someone slashing their throat. [y/name] still remembers that day. vividly.

and they’ve never ever spoken about it. not even to ghost. the only reason he knew the scar existed in the first place was because one day [y/name] hadn’t been wearing the black tactical shemagh they usually wear in their neck to obscure it.

and even now he barely saw it past the brim of said scarf, bunched up around their neck, the tactical mask resting in the dip of their throat obscuring it alongside.

he stared a moment longer before turning away and watching the desert plains as they sped passed. when they finally touched down in their temporary outpost, they both were quick to climb out and make their way inside.

meeting up with laswell and briefing her on how the mission went on their end. then, the pair were shocked to be told they’ve been granted a few months of leave. their station chief believing they could use the long over due off-duty time.

when they got this news neither [y/name] nor simon were too enthusiastic. they both didn’t have much, or anything at all to go home to.. there wasn’t really any reason for them to be excited to temporality be on a break from their militant careers.

what they did have was each other.. and they find solace in that and as usual ghost spent those months with the younger soldier, and as usual he was able to melt back to simon.

simon who was comfortable in [y/name]’s presence. not ghost; the cold and desensitized soldier who had an indifference to everything surrounding him. he could just be simon, the man behind the mask who felt a love like no other for the kid. the kid who had grown on him.

and he was afraid of those implications. for in his very long and very traumatic life simon had come to realize there was nothing good in this world for him. everything he’s ever had that came close to being something or someone he could love.. was incinerated and destroyed.

and he was certain the young soldier would meet the same fate.. but he couldn’t help it. they reminded him so much of himself that it made him dwell on their presence so much more.

he was a bit shocked that he had taken to them so quickly, but he was more so shocked that the sniper in turn had taken a shine to him too.

he knew very little of [y/name]’s background, only what they had told him when they first met about their trauma and nightmarish past. they, only doing so after he shared a bit about what he went through.

though, as the months and months continued to pass he found himself growing more and more attached to the younger. it was a strange thing… whenever in their presence he had felt a warmth he hadn’t felt in years.

a warmth he believed with every sliver of his being had been destroyed alongside any semblance of happiness or comfort he had or would have.

but alas… there they were. [y/name].

his [y/name].

and he would do anything to keep them safe… alive.. he had to. because for once in his entire damn life..

… simon would be selfish.

—

a/n: ik it’s short as hell but i’ve a plan for this okay.. and i’m also trying to finish up the last couple chapter of ‘anpu’ so this is what we’ve got 🌝 i’ve also grown to realize i’ve a habit of not only making [reader] crazy strong and badass but also refuse to reveal any of their history ever lmaooo

#gn!reader #platonic!reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #cod x reader #x reader #reader insert #platonic imagine #platonic relationships

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what-the-fic-khr · 2 months

Note

I’m the anon who asked requested Tsuna for the tea prompts when you first did them and I am once again in a Tsuna mood (1? 2? years later lol??) and needing your beautiful writing lol. Can I request Black Tea, Chai and Milk Tea for him? Appreciate you and your work always!

banging my head against a wall, I wish these were a little longer or a little better, but they’re satisfactory enough I think. I hope you like them anyway, anon!! and thank you so much!!

character/s: tyl!sawada tsunayoshi, adult reborn, reader-insert (gender-neutral)

word count: —

warnings: n/a

prompt: tea prompts (black tea, milk tea, chai tea)

black tea; what do they look for in a person?

kindness, first and foremost. you must be a kind person, someone willing to help others. he’s met all kinds of personalities, but above all they all come together when help is needed. that goes for a partner. especially because as a kid he was treated so roughly; someone who is nice is the foundation of a perfect partner for him.

“Tsuna, I brought you some food.”

You held up a plate with a couple pastries on it and Tsuna hummed lowly. “Thank you, dear. You didn’t have to.”

“You haven’t taken a break in a few hours now, so of course I did. You can’t focus if you’re hungry.”

You only smiled when Reborn made a low noise, something like amusement. “Perhaps you coddle him too much? What would he do without you?”

“Ehh, I think it’s fine to coddle him a little bit!”

You set the plate down gently on Tsuna’s desk after he made some space for it. “Right? You’ll let me coddle you, won’t you?”

Tsuna pet one of your hands gently before taking it in his and squeezing. “Thank you. If you’d like to, you can. I appreciate it.”

“Yay. If you need anything, just ask.”

“I will, thank you.”

milk tea; what are their kisses like?

gentle, but confident. once he gets older, and has been with you for a while, there’s no hesitation in his kisses, or any of his actions. after a while, he becomes comfortable and thus does not need to worry about what he does, especially because he learns quickly what you do and don’t like as well

“I found you. Have you eaten yet?”

You turned to smile at Tsuna as he entered the kitchen, one of his arms slipping around your waist comfortably. “No, not yet. Why?”

You tilted your head without any instruction to, like habit, and Tsuna pressed a kiss to your lips with a pleased hum. It was short, and you followed him when he pulled away. His soft laugh could be felt on your lips.

“I wanted to come get you so we could go get lunch together, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is.”

chai tea; how do they spice up their relationship?

assuming his partner can’t fight, he probably doesn’t take you many places with him when it comes to jobs, missions, etcetera. so I think he would fix this by taking you on specific trips overseas that are unrelated to work; if it’s unrelated there’s less chance people know where you’ll be and he gets to spend more intimate time with you, so it’s a win-win. the best one was obviously taking you to Namimori for the first time

“Ahh, what a cute, quaint town! It’s so nice here.”

Tsuna watched you rock back and forth as you looked out the window of your hotel, taking in the town again after you’d gone exploring earlier in the day.

“I’m a little jealous of you all. What a nice place to be raised in.”

“Mm, I agree. I think it’s a great place to raise a family.” He paused for a moment. “I had fun growing up here.”

You hummed lowly, thinking over his short pause carefully. You straightened, pushing off the windowsill to turn and face him, leaning back against it.

“I bet it was! Haha, thinking of you all running around causing trouble for everyone… Makes me wish I could’ve met you all sooner.”

He smiled widely at this, head tilting. He stepped closer when you waved at him too, crowding you up against the window. You happily grabbed his coat and tugged him down closer, lips ghosting over his.

“I think you would have fit in well with our little group,” he murmured. “But we can make new memories now, so it’s fine, isn’t it?”

“Right. We can start right now, too. Indulge me?”

“Of course.”

#sawada tsunayoshi #katekyo hitman reborn #khr #mine #sawada tsunayoshi x reader #khr imagines #katekyo hitman reborn imagines #katekyo hitman reborn x reader #khr x reader #27 #requests #tea prompts #THANK YOU ANON AND WELCOME BACK!!!#these are Not my best #but I hope you like them nonetheless!!

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my-own-walker · 1 year

Note

Hiiii can I request some kyle angst where him and the reader r dating but she catches him flirting with Zoe or something at a party and she storms off etc etc 🥲🥲🥲

In Love With A Ghost, Please Don’t Come Back

note: so because this request says angst and doesn't clarify otherwise, they're not getting a happy ending...mwahahaha

warnings: angst, cheating/pseudo-cheating, drama, college shit

+++

I still remember the way I smiled on the way home when I met him. I was a kid again, unable to sleep like it was the Christmas Eve. His charm enchanted me. It was as if he had a silver tongue, saying everything I wanted to hear.

‘I just think you’re cool,’ he’d said to me over the phone the day after. ‘Of course I want to see you again.’

I say all of this as if Kyle is a bad person. He’s not. What he is, however, is a flirt by nature. His words have the power to make you feel like you’re the only girl in the world.

I fell fast and hard for the blonde boy with the deepest brown eyes. It almost wasn’t fair how insane he made me feel. Kyle was attractive, sweet, and a giant goofball, so it was natural for any girl to want him. But I had him.

The world turned all around him. He was the sun and I was just a mere planet in his orbit. I don’t know how I ever could have lived without him. As soon as I met him, there was no ‘before him.’ His love was a caress I couldn’t escape, nor did I want to.

At the end of the day, though, Kyle was an idiotic college boy. He couldn’t see five feet in front of him. He lived exclusively in the moment and didn’t understand what he had until it was gone. It was tunnel vision.

Not to say my love for him wasn’t reciprocated. I was so happy with him. He treated me so well. He even lived with me in an apartment on campus. We were happy in our little blissful life together in our place.

Parties were another story, though. He was so easily distracted by everything around him. I’d stand in the corner, wordlessly watching, waiting by the window, feeling empty. I didn’t fit in at his frat functions. Not for lack of trying, mind you. It was almost like he was embarrassed to be seen with me.

Every attempt I made to join in was unsuccessful due to his flippant attitude towards me. His frat brothers changed him, made him someone in public that he wasn’t in private.

It was ‘Thirsty Thursday,’ as (insert frat here) called it. Kyle invited me to come along, god knows why. They hosted this party on one Thursday every month. It was just another lame excuse to drink too much and act stupid, as was any other function.

We arrived and once again, Kyle was immediately pulled away from my side, leaving me standing by the stairway alone. I only had eyes for him, watching as his frat brother Joey weaved him through the swell of people in the main room. God, I probably looked so pathetic.

I detached myself from my feelings of abandonment and pushed my way through the crowd to the backyard. There, more drunken 20-somethings were falling over themselves to get to the drinks at the pseudo-bar. It was really just a fold-up table with a smattering of large glass bottles containing hard liquor with a few feeble attempts at ‘chasers.’

When the swell near the table cleared up a bit, I snatched the nearest bottle of cheap liquor and poured a cup. It was bitter and disgusting, but as the warmth of it spread through my middle, I was pleased at the job it did. I needed to loosen up, after all.

The party had increased substantially in size when I got back inside. I stood awkwardly in the kitchen, waiting to see a passing glimpse of my boyfriend again. He was altogether there and not. It was grating on my psyche. I moved further into the house.

Eventually, my eyes fell upon a scene I had never seen at one of these parties before. Kyle, being still for a moment, not surrounded by frat guys. I rushed, as quickly as one can in a large crowd like that, toward him, but as I got closer, the circumstance became clearer to me.

In front of Kyle was a beautiful, doe-eyed brunette with long straight hair and full lips. Her black dress hugged her form just right. She giggled lightly as she spoke to him, taking a strand of hair in her fingers and twirling it. He looked down at her with a huge smile on his face, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in further emphasis of his joy. My stomach churned in the most awful way. That drink I had was about to come back up.

I stopped dead in my tracks to watch, building my case before taking up the issue with him. I didn’t want to storm in on an innocent conversation acting like a crazy bitch.

The two conversed for a bit. At one point, she even went to leave him, but he grabbed her by her arm to keep her there. The giggling and smiling continued. I tried to calm the quiet ball of rage that was forming in the pit of my stomach. My heart dropped when he leant down to whisper something in her ear. That’s when I decided to descend upon them.

‘Hey girl, is he bothering you?’ I asked the stranger. Kyle’s head snapped in my direction, a look of dread coming across his big dumb face.

‘Oh, uh, ahaha, no I’m okay!’ she stuttered. ‘Kyle was just-‘

‘Huh, we’re on a first name basis already?’ I snarked, looking Kyle dead in the eyes. ‘I’m sorry, what’s your name?’

‘I’m Zoe,’ she replied, demeanor changing. This poor girl.

‘I’m Y/N and I’m sorry, but this idiot wasted your time tonight, Zoe,’ I apologized. ‘He is unfortunately dating me, but maybe not for long.’

‘Oh god, Y/N, I’m sorry, I had no idea…’ she gasped. I turned my attention back to my boyfriend.

‘Kyle, care to chat? Outside?’ I spat. He simply nodded and followed like a puppy with its tail between its legs through the house and out the front door. The front yard was always less crowded. In this case, only two other people sat smoking on the stoop.

I marched a decent bit away from the house before rounding on Kyle.

‘Really, Kyle? What the fuck was that?’ I shouted.

‘Y/N, it wasn’t like that,’ he whined.

‘Like what? I fucking saw the way she was looking at you. The way you were looking at her. What do you take me for? You fucking asshole!’ I cried.

‘Listen, I’m not interested in that girl Zoe. Never was. I was just talking to her,’ he defended himself.

‘Oh yeah? Talking to her? The thing you’re too busy to do with me at parties? You’re so repulsed by acting like I’m your girlfriend in any way when we’re at things like this,’ I continued. ‘You don’t even LOOK at me when we’re at parties, let alone pause to have a conversation.’

‘There was nothing behind that, I promise. I trust you and know you’ll have fun without me, so I go have my own fun,’ he replied.

‘You think I have fun? I stand there alone and wait for you to tell me it’s time to leave. You call that fun?’ I scoffed.

‘I didn’t know that,’ he muttered.

‘Because that’s how fucking blind you are,’ I yelled. ‘You can’t even see how much I SUFFER. You only care about yourself.’

‘That is so untrue, Y/N, you know that.’

‘What I know right now, is that I feel like I’m in love with a ghost. Someone who only appears when it’s convenient for them to love me back. You did this to yourself,’ I spat.

He stood there staring at me with wide eyes, shaking his head. I had never blown up on him like this before.

‘Please, I implore you, don’t come home tonight. I don’t want to see you,’ I sobbed. I turned on my heel and began walking in the direction of our shared apartment, tears streaming down my face.

‘Y/N! Please! Don’t be stupid,’ he called after me.

I spun around. ‘I’m not the stupid one here, Kyle. Don’t come back.’ I walked off without looking back again, ignoring all of his pleas for me to stop.

+++

Ahhhh back to the writing grind. Missed it. Thanks for this request! Send more in. I’ve got a lot of time this week.

#evan peters #evan peters fic #evan peters x female reader #ahs #evan peters oneshot #evan peters x reader #Kyle Spencer #kyle spencer imagine #kyle spencer x y/n #kyle spencer x reader #ahs coven

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sixhours · 3 months

Text

Chapter 3 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence

Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

May 2024 Jackson, Wyoming

“Help!”

You’ve been in Jackson for three weeks. It’s late, not quite 3 a.m., and you’re dozing in your office when you hear a voice from the lobby. A man bursts through the swinging doors into the back of the clinic holding a young girl in his arms, frantically looking around.

The night nurse, Shiela, is coming down the hall to see to the commotion, but you wave her away.

“I’ve got it. Right here,” you tell the man, gesturing to the nearest exam room.

“She passed out,” he says, desperation threaded through a gravelly Texas baritone as he lays the girl down in a hospital bed. “She’s been sick.”

“You the father?” you ask, checking the pulse point at the girl’s wrist where her heartbeat flutters. Her skin is feverish, eyes ringed with dark circles, lips cracked. You’d put her at 12 or 13, but she’s small, thin.

“I’m, uh–yeah,” the man says. “She started, uh, throwin’ up–”

“Any allergies?”

He shakes his head. “I dunno–”

“When did this start?”

“Three, four days ago, maybe. It was just a cough and a fever, she stayed home from school–”

“Has she been able to keep liquids down?”

“Not since last night.”

“She’s probably dehydrated,” you start to pull up the girl’s sleeve. “I’m going to place an IV so we can get some fluids–”

You stop short. The bite scar on the girl’s forearm is ugly and swollen, a telltale cordyceps rash snaking its way to the crook of her elbow.

Oh, no.

Your head snaps up to meet the man’s eyes, and it takes him a moment to register what you’ve seen. You’re reaching for the cordyceps monitor in the cabinet, the little device that will confirm the presence of infection, when he levels a handgun at your face.

“Don’t.”

You let out a soft huff, hands slowly moving up.

“She’s infected,” you say. “And you can’t have a gun in here. How did you–”

“She’s not.”

“The bite–”

“It’s a burn scar,” he growls, reaching over to tug at the sleeve of the girl’s shirt, covering the evidence. “She’s not infected. Use the other arm.”

“Joel?” the girl stirs, and the gun falters, his gaze immediately on his daughter. You reach for the detector again.

“Don’t fucking move,” he growls, his attention snapping back to you.

“Joel,” the girl’s voice is more insistent now as she tries to sit up. “Joel, you asshole–”

His eyes dart between you and the girl. “Use. The other. Arm,” he bites out.

You swallow hard, weighing your options. You think you could overpower him; he looks strong, but there’s a coldness in his eyes that tells you he’s not fully there . And you don’t want to be stuck in this tiny exam room when the girl inevitably turns…

“Fine,” you snap. “Fine. I’ll use the other arm.”

He nods once, not lowering the gun.

You back away, keeping your eyes trained on him as you make a show of pulling supplies from the cabinets, taking your time, trying to figure out how to proceed in a way that won’t get you shot or bitten. You pull up the girl’s other sleeve with shaking fingers and the man–Joel–seems to relax a fraction.

“What’s your name, kid?” you ask.

She looks at Joel as though asking for permission, then down at her arm as you insert the IV, watching with fascination as the needle penetrates the skin.

“S’Ellie,” she says, coughing roughly.

“Hi, Ellie,” you say, forcing a smile through gritted teeth. “I’m going to get this saline drip set up, I’m going to take your temperature, then I’m going to take a sample of your blood. And hopefully, your dad here won’t shoot me.”

The girl shakes her head. “S’like this with everyone.”

Joel’s jaw twitches and he shoots a glare at the girl, exasperation and worry in the deep-set lines of his forehead.

“How old are you, Ellie?”

“Fifteen.”

“Any recent injuries? Blood loss? Open up,” you say, inserting the end of a mercury thermometer. “Hold that under your tongue.”

The girl shakes her head, mumbling around the glass stick in her mouth. “M’ just tired.”

“That’s fine,” you say. “You can lay back, close your eyes. I’m almost done.”

Joel’s eyes are trained on you, watching your every move as you continue examining the girl, checking her lymph nodes, her breathing, asking her to swallow, pricking her finger to get a blood sample. You avoid her right arm, on high alert for any sudden movements, the twitching that signals the onset of infection, but Ellie remains still and listless. Joel is still holding the gun, but at least it’s no longer pointed at your head.

“You said this started last night?”

He gives a single tense nod.

“She’s in school, right?”

“Yeah…so?”

“Well, provided you’re telling the truth, and that scar isn’t what it looks like,” you say, biting out the words through gritted teeth, “I think she has the flu.”

Joel blinks. “The flu?”

“It’s early in the season, but it's going around. And the kids are especially good at spreading it.”

Joel’s shoulders sag; he finally lowers the gun to his side.

“This isn’t something to mess with,” you continue, moving to the sink, snapping off your gloves in irritation. “It’s not like before when we had vaccines. People die from the flu. Especially the most vulnerable, and she’s underweight, possibly anemic. I’d like to keep her overnight–”

“No,” he cuts you off. “No, she stays with me.”

“You can stay, too,” you say slowly, watching the panic in his face. He’s gone somewhere else in his mind, shadows moving behind his eyes. “But I want to get her hydrated and make sure this doesn’t progress to a secondary infection like pneumonia.”

He looks to Ellie, then to you, then back to Ellie. You watch his Adam’s apple bob under the scruff of his beard.

“Alright,” he says finally. “Fine. She can stay.”

You nod, turning to leave. “I’m going to run this to the lab, then I’ll have a nurse come in with–”

His hand is on your arm, gripping it, wheeling you around. “You’re not going to tell anyone…about the scar,” he says through gritted teeth. “Got that?”

You exhale sharply, narrowly resisting the urge to haul off and punch him. “Let go of me.”

“Say it,” he says.

“I’m not…going to tell…anyone,” you repeat, enunciating as though to a small child. Then, as a petulant afterthought: “But put the gun away, for god’s sake. You’ll scare my staff.”

He considers you, his grip loosening, receding. He tucks the gun into the back of his jeans.

“Alright. Go.”

~*~

“I’ve got a live one in exam room two. Think it’s the flu again. I just need last names–Joel and Ellie?”

“That’s the Millers,” Shiela says.

“Right, right. She’s staying the night, I want to keep an eye on her.” You swallow, turning away, hoping she doesn’t see the tremor in your hands. “Look, Shel, why don’t you go home? It’s not busy, I can take the rest of the night shift.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I have the walkie if I run into trouble. Go home,” you say, smiling in a way you hope is convincing enough. It must be, because she shrugs and packs up her bag.

When Shiela is gone, you lock the clinic’s front and rear entrances so no one else can get in. Then you retreat to your office, intent on finding the girl’s medical records, but there’s no Ellie Miller in the filing cabinet. On a hunch, you sift through the rest of the folders by first name and find the only Ellie in town–an Ellie Williams.

After a considered pause, you pull Joel Miller’s file, too.

You take them to your desk and spread them in front of you, all the while listening for sounds from down the hall.

Ellie Williams. 14 female. DOB: ??/??/2009. Intake: 12/16/2023.

Joel Miller. 56 male. DOB: 9/26/1967. Intake: 12/16/2023.

They came in the same day, so you’ve got the right kid. The forms are signed by Maria Miller, who you know is on the Jackson council.

A sister, maybe?

But there’s no other data, no medical history. Nothing helpful.

You toss the folders on your desk and head to the supply closet to grab blankets, Tylenol, and a paper cup of water. You hesitate over the surgical supplies, then tuck a scalpel in your pocket. It’s no match for a gun, but if the girl turns while you’re tending to her, you might stand a chance at making it out alive if you have a weapon.

Joel is pacing when you return. He looks at you nervously as you place the blankets at the foot of the bed, and the Tylenol on the counter.

“I sent the night nurse home,” you say quietly. “No one will be in until six.”

This seems to relax him a bit, enough that he finally takes a seat, deflating into the chair next to Ellie’s bed. His hands are shaking.

Ellie wakes up enough to swallow the Tylenol with a sip of water, then rolls over and curls on her side with a soft groan and a raspy cough. Joel is so intent on watching his daughter that he barely acknowledges you when you slip out of the room.

You sit stiff and upright on the cot in your office, fingering the scalpel in your pocket and waiting for the inevitable sound of infection from across the hall.

It doesn’t come.

~*~

They’re sleeping when you peek in on them over the next few hours. Joel’s lanky body is twisted awkwardly in the chair, jacket over his shoulders, his head resting on the bed at her side. Her right hand curls loosely in his hair.

By morning, the girl’s fever has broken, her breathing deep and even. Joel remains asleep at her side, snoring lightly.

You pause in the doorway, wondering if you should try to check the girl’s arm for signs of progression, but decide against it; Joel’s eyes flutter open as you reach to take her pulse. Your hand stops in mid-air, hovering over her wrist, half expecting him to reach for his gun, but he only blinks and raises his head, swiping a broad palm across his scruffy face.

“Just checking in,” you murmur. Ellie’s heartbeat is strong under your fingers, her lungs sound clearer. “She looks better.”

He takes this in, nods.

“I think you can go home when she wakes up,” you say, keeping your voice low. “We’ll give her another dose of Tylenol to keep the fever down, and you both need to isolate for at least a week…that means you, her, and anyone else in your household.”

“S’just us,” he says flatly.

“Okay. The staff will let the cafeteria know you’ll need meals delivered for a bit. If you start to feel sick–”

“I’m fine.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes. “Fine. But if you do feel sick and you have to go out, wear one of these,” you say, pulling two white face masks from your pocket.

“K,” he says, eyes drifting back to Ellie’s sleeping form. When he speaks, his voice is frayed. “So she’s gonna be alright? No pneumonia?”

You shake your head, crossing your arms. “Her lungs sound clear, but if the cough gets worse, bring her back in right away. And feed her. She’s borderline anemic. She needs to eat.”

He scowls, muttering at the floor. “She eats plenty.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “It’s not uncommon for kids her age to struggle with disordered–”

“She’s fine,” he cuts you off. “I’ll make sure she eats. Anything else?”

His eyes bore into yours like a challenge, a threat.

“If she gets sick, and I mean… sick ,” you say in a low voice, emphasizing the word until it’s clear you’re not talking about the flu. “I will make sure every single council member knows who brought it in. Understand?”

He considers you for a moment, then nods slowly. “I heard you.”

“Good,” you say, clipped. “One of the nurses can check you out when you’re ready. Maybe don’t hold them at gunpoint.”

#the last of us hbo #the last of us #fanfic #joel miller x reader #ellie williams #joel miller x you

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sherifftillman · 1 year

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come along, one and all, to the hawkins fair! a special event held in honor of two thousand of you fine people being here. why not have a look around? we’ve got two wonderful parks for you to peruse, writer’s world and gifset grounds, so take your time, pick an attraction or two and be sure to check out the fireworks show at the end!

●・○・●・○・●

-ˏˋ Writer’s World ˊˎ-

🪞 hall of mirrors: you’re here, you’re there, you’re everywhere! which is the real you? who are these doppelgangers? – send me a description of yourself and i’ll write you a short blurb about what i think your role would be within the stranger things timeline! (+ add a 💕 if you also want to be shipped with someone)

💜 tunnel of love: they can’t stay still. your breath is shallow. awkward laughter as you catch each other’s eye, crammed in a boat with a strangely ominously glowing void ahead of you. – send a character or ship (please specify if the ship is standalone or an x reader polycule! i’ll assume all ships are standalone unless stated otherwise) and i’ll write a romantic blurb. (+ add a 🔥if you want smut)

🎠 carousel: the music fills your ears, the cool metal pole pressing against your warm, flushed cheek as you see your best friend next to you, having the time of their life. – send a character or platonic ship (please specify if standalone or x reader) and i'll write a friendship blurb. *this is the only option where i will also accept members of the party as options, but not directly interactive with the reader UNLESS as a side character/sibling of reader. (e.g. i won't accept dustin x reader but i would include dustin (+ other kids) in a henderson!reader x older teen scenario, or dustin with other canon characters)

🎪 big top: sit back, relax, and enjoy the show! this one’s all about celebrating you, dear audience, so we’ll need volunteers! volunteer yourselves, your friends, your idols. everyone deserves a spotlight! – send a fic you’re proud of! send a fic you love! this totally isn’t a thinly-veiled attempt at me trying to farm fic recs since i’ve slipped so much! it could be a reader insert or a ship. i don't mind any ship (as long as it doesn't include b*lly or j*son), especially rarepairs!

🌀 a portal?!: uh-oh, looks like HNL’s been at it, again. this time, it seems as though they’ve opened a portal through the entire multiverse! people are appearing that look strangely like existing hawkins residents. – send another character that a stranger things actor plays and i’ll write a romantic or platonic blurb for them, too! (+ add a 🔥if you want smut)

●・○・●・○・●

-ˏˋ Gifset Grounds ˊˎ-

🤹 the juggler: that’s right, i’m the juggler, baby! i can juggle almost anything you want, anything at all! i might even toss one your way, get ready for it! – make me choose between any number of things! people, ships, scenes, locations, seasons, etc.

🎈 balloon stall: get your balloons here! we got all the colours here, you want one? two? all?! you got it, kid. – send a character/ship and as many colours as you want to be featured.

🐤 hook a duck: feeling lucky, duck? why not take a chance on one of these rubbery fellas? anything could be under it, anything at all. you won't know unless you try! – send this and i'll have a randomiser decide who i make a gifset for.

🎡 ferris wheel: far above the shrieks of an excitable crowd, the blaring lights, the aromatic mix of sickly sweets, sweat and smoke; a moment of peace. just you, the world beneath you, and a simple song to guide you. – name a character and either choose a song/artist yourself or leave that up to me, and i'll make a lyric gifset for them!

👻 ghost train: what is dead may never die. what lurks within the dark depths of the unknown? truly anything can happen, if you dare to take the leap and open yourself to possibility. – give me an au (literally anything non-canon-compliant) and i'll try and make a gifset about it!

●・○・●・○・●

🎆 fireworks! 🎆

i just wanted to take a moment to thank every one of you. it's been insane how i can once again fall in love with writing, be this close to finishing a majorly hefty writing project, and learn a new skillset that i actually enjoy right from the get-go. being a part of fandom again has me getting out of the house again, going to conventions again, making new friends wherever i go, making plans to go to places i've never been before with those people. i thought that part of my life was behind me. i've never been more proud to be wrong.

all of you have encouraged me in ways i couldn't begin to explain, but the mutuals i'm tagging inspire me with their support and creativity every dang day. i'm so lucky to have these people in my life in any capacity, whether we talk every day or we've never spoken (though if the latter's the case, i'd love to fix that!) 💜

@denim-mixtapes @fanatictypist @keerysquinn @userquinn @hellfirehoe @reysorigins @eddieandbird @heroeddiemunson @roykentt @iero @hellfireclubs @corroded-hellfire @munson-blurbs @lunatictardis @loveshotzz @quinnsbower @newlips @wroteclassicaly @usedtobecooler @corrodedbisexual @dindjarins @stargyles @mulderfcx @enidsnclr @elizabethgillies @sebuckyverse @wordscomehither @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @hearsegrrl @mcbeanzontoast @pitifulbaby

#*mygifs #*2kcelebration

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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 2 years

Text

Deadmen Got No Luck

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Female!Reader

With your eyes set on killing Vecna and protecting the ones you love, you’re a woman on a mission. But - of course - everything spins out of control when you come face to face with Henry slash Vecna slash One, losing more than you bargained for. Inspired by Saint PHNX, “Deadmen” and by the wonderful human being that is Joe Keery.

Warnings: Angst. A/N: Look at me, hashing out 2 fics in one week? This is 100% an AU and a product of my crazy imagination. Also a bit of a rewrite of the end of Season 4 with the reader inserted. There’s going to be more parts that nobody asked for - it’s happening anyway. Thank you for reading in advance! Gif not mine.

When you auditioned for the cheerleading squad 3 years ago, at the final round of selections, Chrissy Cunningham asked you a question.

“What’s your weakness, Henderson?”

An easy enough question, which didn’t take you more than 5 seconds to answer.

“I’m too stubborn for my own good”, you said, without batting an eye.

Even now, as you’re pouring kerosene in one glass bottle after another, passing the half-finished weapons to Steve to seal, there is an unyielding stubbornness about you that doesn’t allow you to be scared. As Robin mentions Vecna’s-slash-Henry’s-slash-One’s name, a wave of courage rises inside your chest against all common sense.

Who wouldn’t be afraid of an inter dimensional psycho - who has probably been dropped often as a child - on a warpath against the entire world as you know it?

“I have this terrible, gnawing feeling… That it might not work for us this time”, Robin says, her deep blue eyes emanating nervousness that doesn’t shock you anymore - it has long since established its home there. Her gaze switches between you and Steve, and while Steve puts down the bottle he is holding, you continue pouring kerosene into the Molotov cocktail, the stubbornness winning, yet again.

“You think we shouldn’t be doing this?” Steve’s expression grows concerned, as he frowns at Robin, before stealing a quick glance at you.

“I think we’re mad fools, the lot of us”, Robin speaks slowly, looking between you and Steve, as she picks up the bottle and stuffs a piece of cloth in its neck. “But if we don’t stop him, who will?”

She bites down on her bottom lip and turns away from Steve and you to put the bottle on the ground.

“We have to try,” you voice what’s on everyone’s mind, in a tone that doesn’t warrant a discussion. Instinctively, your gaze drifts to Steve’s face, and your eyes lock.

There’s something heartbreaking in those deep brown irises as he nods; the sound of Eddie’s shenanigans and kids’ amused chuckles wrapping around the two of you like thick fog. Your own eyes soften as you catch Steve committing your every single trait to memory; he doesn’t blink as he studies your face, the stray hairs that escaped your messy bun framing your cheeks. Your heart aches at the sight of his stare turning glassy.

“Yeah”, he manages, still unblinking, his voice breaking. Before you can realise what you’re doing, you find his hand with yours and squeeze it, even just for a fleeting moment.

The knowing look Robin gives the pair of you is entirely lost on you and Steve. Her lips stretch in a saddest of smiles as she drops her head; it’s Harrington’s voice that invites her into the little safe space Steve and you have created for yourselves; even just for a minute.

“To killing Vecna”, he says, a ghost of smile adorning his full lips. He stretches out a bottle, leaning over to you and Robin, so you can join him in a celebration of a sinister common purpose.

You don’t waste a second to respond, your eyes burning with resolution.

“Slash Henry”, you click one of the bottles you’ve filled against his.

“Slash One”, Robin adds, completing the ritual with a bottle of her own.

If only the actual deed was that simple.

“Uh- I don’t mean to freak anyone out, but I swear I’ve seen this tree before.”

Robin looks like a wounded rabbit, jumping from one foot to another, avoiding the vines littering the dead, dry ground. You heart almost stops every time her shoe brushes too close to the Upside Down’s monotonous flora, and you make an effort to tear your gaze away from her dance, just to save yourself from a heart attack.

“That’s impossible”, you reassure her, looking ahead, narrowing your eyes to better study your surroundings, with dust, or whatever the hell this is, floating around you in flakes.

“That would suck, right?” Robin parries in a taut voice. “If Vecna destroyed the world because we got lost in the woods?”

“We’re not lost, Robin”, Nancy counters in a tone that’s a tad too harsh, but you don’t blame her. Everyone’s on edge, you all just have different ways of expressing it.

Robin, for example, lets out an obnoxious, but also hella nervous laugh and speeds ahead between the trees, the Molotov cocktails attached to her hip swinging back and forth dangerously.

Your eyes grow wide and your breath catches in your chest.

“Robin, hey!” You call after her, albeit in vain. “Watch out for the vines!” You resist the urge to run after her and smack her ass just for the hell of it. “Hive mind, remember?”

“Thank you!” Robin yells back, without slowing down. You sigh. You’re pretty sure that by the time you get out of here - if you get out of here - it’ll be with 30 more years on you.

Nancy eyes both you and Steve for a second. Something you can’t quite decipher crosses her expression, but before you can really pin down what that was, she holds her DIY gun tighter to her chest and says: “I’ve got her. Hey, Robin, wait up!” She jogs after Buckley, careful not to put her feet where they shouldn’t go.

This leaves Steve and you walking together. Close. Closer still, when both of you avoid a vine on the ground, bumping shoulders, your fingers brushing against one another’s.

“Jesus”, you exhale a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “Robin’s like the definition of a super klutz. You search the word in the dictionary, there’s her goddamn photo under it!”.

Steve chuckles softly at your words, both of you moving steadily forward and stepping further away from each other as you search for a safe place to step on.

“It’s just… It did take her longer to walk then most babies…” Steve shrugs, waiting for your reaction as he looks at you from a corner of his eye.

“Not helping, Harrington,” you fire back through gritted teeth, trying to stay alert between stepping in all the right places and keeping an eye on Robin in the distance. Nancy has now caught up with her, and both of them are marching forward hand in hand.

“She’s in good hands with Nance”, Steve speaks, as if reading your thoughts. When you raise your glance to look at him, he is focused on the pair in front of you, gentleness enveloping every syllable that leaves his mouth. “Whatever level of klutz she may be”. You smile at this small sign of affection in Steve’s demeanour. Something tugs softly at your heart when your eyes meet again, and the gentleness is still there, even multiplied by a thousand.

You walk in a comfortable silence for a minute or two, stealing not-so-discreet glances at each other, making sure the other one is careful about where they’re placing their feet.

“Uh, I actually, crawled backwards”, Steve suddenly says, scratching the back of his neck. “When I was a baby, I mean”, he adds, cocking his head to a side, as his eyes travel to your face. “Pushed my hands kind of like this”, he stretches his arms forward and makes the shrillest of sounds, “Beep Beep”.

You cannot fight a smile that blooms on your face, nor the giggle that escapes you, as you don’t take your eyes off him.

“Always in reverse, you know?”, you can’t tell whether you imagine it, but you can almost catch Steve’s cheeks growing rosy in the dimness of the forest.

“Let me guess,” you press your lips together for a moment, as if pondering over something. You decide to hold him out a helping hand in trying to diffuse the atmosphere. “Until you reversed your baby Harrington butt down a flight of stairs, right?”

Steve stops mid-step, his head snapping to face you with awe in his eyes.

“Yeah, actually”, he responds slowly, before marching on. “And thumped my head real good.”

You can’t help but chuckle wholeheartedly, throwing your head back in joy.

“Oh”, you manage through a grin. “That explains so much”.

Steve actually joins in as you chortle in delight. His eyes are almost glowing with warmness and comfort. You realise he’s completely at ease with you making fun of him - while on a killing mission in Upside Down.

“I think it kind of does,” he smiles at you, not missing a beat. “I think, right out of the gate, like, I’m super confident. But I’m also, like, an idiot”, the two sentences clammed together in a phrase make you laugh softly again, covering your mouth. Steve is rambling now, which is just hella cute. Has always been. He rambles on. “Which is just… I mean, it’s a brutal combination”, he agrees with your unspoken words, before correcting himself. “Was a brutal combination. Until something - or rather, someone - landed a blow on my head, like, of nuclear proportions. Changed my life.” Something changes in the air - and it has nothing to do with where you’re at. Without even realising it, both you and Steve have come to a halt under a massive tree, it’s dry branches throwing shade on you both. You don’t know why, but you can feel your heart hammering in your chest, as your stomach grows hot, knots forming in the pit of it.

Steve feels no pain; he looks at you like you’re the only thing worth looking at in the world. His eyes are big and warm and tender, and completely serene, as if you weren’t standing in the middle of Upside Down and he weren’t about to change your life forever.

“It was you”, he says, his voice soft, and passionate, all at the same time. "The first time I saw you. You were wearing that summer red dress with small black flowers on it and a matching red lipstick. And you had to repeat your question like three times, because I was just… Struck. I could barely breathe. I-” “Steve”, your entire body shakes as panic engulfs you. You can’t breathe. You can’t, you just. Can’t. Take. A damn. Breath.

"I guess what I’m trying to say in a stupid, roundabout way is… I want- I want to do everything with you. I want to marry you, and have kids with you and grow old with you… And I want- I want to die before you do, so I never ever have to live without you, because I…”

“Steve, don’t!” you practically shriek, cutting him mid-sentence, with your chest feeling like it’s collapsing on itself. Your breathing is frantic as you cover your mouth, feeling the hurt that flashes on Steve’s face, like a shot of fireworks in the dark. A beautiful disaster - of your doing.

“I can’t do this right now,” this is the smallest your voice has ever been, as you plead him with your eyes to just stop, but also to forgive you for your tunnel vision.

There’s no way you would be able to stay focused on the mission if Steve actually says those words. Those three little words that are going to change your life forever, make you switch your priorities and always look over your shoulder to make sure he’s there and safe.

As if you weren’t doing it already, a small, nagging voice, sounding a lot like Robin, actually, rings in your head.

You see Steve open his mouth with his brows furrowed, an aftertaste of hurtful expression still creasing his forehead, when Robin suddenly jumps in front of you.

“Hey guys - awesome news!” She’s breathing heavily, but there’s something like a smile stretching her lips. “Looks like we weren’t going the wrong way after all!” Robin notices that something is off as Steve grinds his teeth on an exhale, looking away from both of you. Her eyes dart to your face, but you’re just standing there, not uttering a word, your expression is that of a lost puppy. “Are you guys coming?” Nancy pops up her head from behind Robin’s back, and a realisation that something has just gone down dawns on her face almost immediately.

“Yeah, okay”, Steve finally says, his pace quicker as he thrusts his body forward. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

“Geez”, Robin’s eyes grow wider at his reaction, but she turns on her heels and follows him, running. Nancy gives you a sympathetic look, which you pretend you do not notice as you stare ahead, moving your feet in the direction of Vecna’s hide-out.

Two hours from now you’d be wishing you let Steve finish his phrase. Two hours from now, you’d have given your life just to hear him say those three words, so that nothing else could change your life the way they could.

It all happens too fast. Too fast for you to keep track. Between the vines choking you, Steve smashing their tentacles pinning you to the wall with his bat again and again and again, him getting choked too, and your bruised and weary bodies hitting the floor, you realise you do, actually, get scared. All of your stubbornness and courage disappear the minute you clock Steve pressed against the wall, the Upside Down squeezing the life out of him by pressing hard, harder still on his throat. If you had any air in your lungs at that moment, you would scream, scream bloody murder, but even that, you cannot do. All you’re permitted is watch, watch the love of your life being choked to death.

When the four of you are lying on the ground, and then scrambling to your feet, you don’t have it in you to ask yourself why the Upside Down gives you a free pass and lets you walk away. You are more than ready to finish the job. You’re tired, low key panicking and absolutely pissed, pissed out of your mind.

Nobody fucking touches the people you love and gets away with it.

“I don’t believe in higher power - or divine intervention” Robin croaks, barely breathing. “But that was a miracle”.

“Then we’d better not fucking waste it”, you hiss, bending forward and snatching a blade where it’s been attached at Steve’s hip. He eyes you questioningly, but you don’t give him any kind of explanation as you start up the stairs, praying to God that you’re not too late.

That Max, and your brother, and Eddie, and the Sinclair's - are all okay.

“Phase four,” Steve says from behind you, always close, always covering your back. “Flambé”.

As you reach the attic and step onto the rotting wood, your entire body shudders at the sight. Vecna, putrid grey, slimy and smelling like decay, hangs above the floor, pumping energy through long, bony tentacles attached onto his back. He looks like a deadly heart of the Upside Down, and the scene is as terrifying as it is disgusting. But you are a woman on a mission. You have no time to be scared. Neither does Steve.

As you spot a flick of light to your left, as if in slow motion, you turn your head to watch Steve send a burning Molotov cocktail flying square into Vecna’s chest. The light reflects in the pupils of his eyes, the bottle spins once, twice, three times in the air-

The moment it hits Vecna’s body, the four of you are thrown back in a wave of shock, sparks flying in all directions and burning at your skin. Vecna’s body is suddenly alight, every single part of him on fire; the flames eat away at his flesh like at the pages of an old, dried out journal. He throws his head back, still in trance, and screams in pain, his cry piercing your brain.

His tentacles fall apart and push back, disconnecting from his body; you swear they screech all on their own, rearing back, leaving Vecna to fend for himself as his body hits the ground with a spectacular thump. He falls face forward, bare meters away from where the four of you stand. When he jerks up, lifting his head, he’s growling, surrounded by fire, the stench of his burning flesh enough to make your stomach twist. The sound of his flesh sizzling doesn’t help; it’s sickening to the bone.

On fire and panting, Vecna manages to stand and take a step towards you. Robin suddenly spurs into action, lightening up another Molotov; you swear you never saw the determination like that on her face before. She’s focused, she’s riled up, she’s fantastic as she throws another bottle full of kerosene right at him, forcing him back five steps. The hot wave hits your face again, harder this time. You blink twice, perfectly aware of your eyelashes having taken a heat punch; and the next thing you hear is shots.

There’s assertiveness in Nancy’s gait that tell Vecna one thing and one thing only. He’s dying tonight, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it. Fire dances in Nancy’s eyes as she fires one shot, two shots, three shots - forcing Vecna to retreat, further and further-

But the fucker is still standing there, in the middle of a raging fire.

And then he’s suddenly moving towards the four of you again.

Nancy’s breath is all you can hear as she whips her head to meet your eyes; there’s panic in her stare, and you realize that it’s going to take more than bottles filled with kerosene and 3 inch bullets to take out the fucker.

You turn your head to face Steve; you can’t help it, you have to see those chocolate eyes one last time. Your gazes lock, and it only takes him a moment to realize what you’re about to do.

As you step forward, Robin grabs him by his shoulder, pulling him back. You’re pretty sure he’s screaming, but you can’t think about that right now.

You are a woman on a mission.

Vecna’s screaming too as you run towards him; he’s barely moving, but he somehow meets you halfway. With a howl that rips into your throat, you swing the blade you took from Steve earlier and plunge it right through Vecna’s heart.

Two things you realize almost simultaneously as your chin touches his burning sizzling shoulder.

Your blade exited through Vecna’s back.

The fucker’s claws are dug into your chest, up to his fingertips, and the heavy-smelling blood - your blood - is cascading down your stomach and onto the floor.

You let go of the blade and come face to face with Vecna’s shocked expression, as he eyes you slowly, before dropping his gaze to his chest.

You can’t move - your body feels like it has been filled to the brim with lead. A cough escapes your lips, and you feel blood coming out of your mouth with a shuddered breath, narrow red flow speeding down your chin and dripping - drip drip drip - on your shoes.

“Steve”, you exhale before you collapse onto the ground; only the hit never comes.

“Oh my God, oh my God!” You can hear Steve’s voice, cracking and sounding a lot like he’s getting cut in two, but it’s really far away. Your body feels like it’s wrapped in cotton now, your skin hot in some places, and very cold in others.

Steve is holding you in his lap and you realize he caught you, slipping under you on the ground.

“Oh my God,” he rocks you back and fourth, tears leaving clear trails on his soot covered face. “Please, don’t- Don’t close your eyes, sweetheart, stay with me, stay with me!”

“Steve”, your voice is no more than a breath, as you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. “Steve, I…” an entire mouthful of blood escapes your lips and your eyes roll back.

“No!!” Steve screams and screams and screams like a wounded animal. “No, please!!” He yells into the roof, into the sky, to whatever God who’d listen. “Please,” he sobs, burying his face in your hair.

You don’t feel your body anymore. And the rest is a blur as you slip into impenetrable, silent darkness.

“Love?! Shit, love, are you okay?!”

Your entire body feels like it’s been put through a meat grinder, but the worst of it is the furious throbbing in your head. Your brain feels as if it’s on fire, and you can’t open your eyes, the pain so strong, it forces them shut.

You feel like you’re going to faint any second now, but then another voice rings above all the commotion and worried chatter, surrounding you.

It’s Steve’s voice.

“What the hell happened?!” Steve sounds distressed, and you moan in attempt to let him know that you’re somewhat okay; at the very least, you’re alive.

“Jesus Christ!” the first voice with a funny accent you only spotted now is back. “Come on, help me get her up. Fucking hell, scared the shit out of me”.

“You and me both”, you hear Steve mutter under his breath, and you’re pretty sure he didn’t mean to be heard by anyone.

Then you feel somebody tugging at your limbs, holding you up no doubt… Your head drops back and it eases the pain in your brain just enough to let you open your eyes. What you see next makes you almost want to die for real this time around, right there, on the spot.

A scream - hoarse and blunt, an attempt at a scream really - resurfaces from your chest as you stare into Vecna’s ugly mug, nose missing, skin slimy and the same putrid grey, and oh your god, he’s got his hands on you. There is no way you’re surviving this.

Some kind of a survival instinct kicks in, and you push your palms into his chest with whatever strength you have left - and - by some miracle, as Robin would say - Vecna lets go, his face twisting in surprise.

“Let go of me!” you rasp, pushing further back from him, creating distance. Only your legs don’t hold you up like they’re supposed to, and your pivoting back to the floor-

When somebody catches you. Strong hands wrap around your waist, and there’s something so familiar and comforting about them, you almost break out in tears of relief.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay”, Steve whispers in your ear… and surely enough, the vannes open up and tears stream down your face as you turn around and smash your body into his, burying your face in the crook of his neck, your shoulders convulsing with sobs.

“I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to scare you”, Vecna says behind your back, and his voice is all sorrow, sadness and palpable guilt.

Wait a fucking minute…

“It’s alright, Jamie, it wasn’t your fault”, a voice sounding a lot like Robin chimes in, “She just.. collapsed”, she shudders at the memory, and her voice waivers. “Joe, we should take her to the hospital, call an ambulance or something. She might have a concussion… Jesus, she’s shaking, I think- I think she’s having a panic attack.”

“Just breathe with me, love”, you feel Steve caress your back in soft, gentle motions. “In and out. In and out.” You feel his chest expand against yours, and peacefulness settles in the pit of your stomach as you actually manage to breathe. “You’re okay, everything’s okay”, you feel him cup your face, but your eyes are closed, scared of what else you might be able to find if you open them.

“Look at me, love. Just look at me”, Steve coos, and you can’t help but oblige.

It’s him. It’s really him. The eyes, the nose with a slight bump, the freckles, partly hidden behind a generous layer of soot.

Relief crashes into you, a sentiment so overwhelming, your knees buckle - but Steve is there to catch at your waist, again, and to quickly scoop you into his arms, bridal style. He doesn’t smell like fire or dirt or Upside Down though. Steve smells like some spice, and musc and sugar?…

“Shit, I am so, so sorry, love,” your vision is blurry as you spot Vecna’s hand appear from behind Steve’s dirty, yet still magnificent hair. You follow the waving hand all the way up to his face, your head filled with cotton, your mind high.

It’s when your eyes catch the head of a blond, ruffled, handsome man attached to Vecna’s body, that your brain finally shuts down, and you fall back into an embrace of the dark and silent oblivion.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington imagine #Steve Harrington x female reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington au

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afreakingdork · 1 year

Text

Weak Spot - Chapter 15

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Slice of Life, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Synopsis: Though it hadn't come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

Some light housekeeping so hopefully it's a little more clear what this fic is about! If you ever have notes for me, feel free to send them over!

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

They Were Roommates: Weather!

Phone Guy: Five day says we should be clear.

They Were Roommates: Schedules!

Sink: Open or requested off and granted!

They Were Roommates: Equipment!

Nervous Nell: Uuh, I’m ggonna drive up to see my parents and get their canoe! I’ll have to meet you there, but I’ll get a coooler and girlll stuff…

They Were Roommates: Food!

You: Car Beta will be hitting a store en route

They Were Roommates: Those unaccounted for!

Phone Guy: We got everybody except Travis.

They Were Roommates: You know what that means?!

Phone Guy: Lake day

You: Lake Day!

Sink: Lake Day!

Nervous Nell is typing…

They Were Roommates: Hey!

Nervous Nell: Llake day, yup!

They Were Roommates: What is up with you?

Nervous Nell: Sorry, lookin out my window. My gf said she was close like 20 mins ago...

Sink: No.

Nervous Nell: Huh?

Sink: No siggys at lake day!!

Phone Guy: We said no to making siggys a thing.

Sink: Ugh

Sink: No SiGnIfIcAnT oThErS at lake day.

Nervous Nell: Sshe gonna come up to my parents house though!

They Were Roommates: She ghosted you dude, move on.

Nervous Nell: Don’t say that!

They Were Roommates: Too late

They Were Roommates: Actually…

Nervous Nell: Yyeah?

They Were Roommates: I move to make an exception for Y/N’s boyfriend.

You: What?

Nervous Nell: Hhow come-?

Sink: We don’t do this! People break up too often and it ruins the memories.

Phone Guy: Just say photos. What is wrong with you?

You: Hey! This wasn’t my idea!

They Were Roommates: Did you all know Y/N had a crush on the Jolly Green Giant as a kid?

Nervous Nell, Sink, and Phone Guy are typing…

You: OPEN YOUR DOOR

You: I JUST WANT TO TALK

They Were Roommates: Help! Someone’s trying to break in!

Phone Guy: Oh no

Phone Guy: Think of the collateral damage.

You: Why the hell would you say that?!

They Were Roommates: Because you didn’t deny it and now you’re freaking out so, guess what?

They Were Roommates: You played yourself!

Sink: jalfkhsdfads

Phone Guy: Archived*

Nervous Nell: Hhe’s a mutant, right?

You: Yeah

You: He is.

You: Is that a problem?

Nervous Nell: Iit’s fine! Uh I didn’t mean for that to saound bad!

They Were Roommates: I think what he means is he’s curious to meet one.

You: Donatello isn’t some experiment gone wrong. He’s not here for you to study. He’s a person.

Nervous Nell is typing…

Sink: While he digs his grave, what’s up with this double standard Cor? You’re the one who came up with the no sigs rule!

Phone Guy: That’s worse.

They Were Roommates: Founder’s rights.

You: Why are you doing this?

They Were Roommates: I think he’s gonna stick around. He needs a serious group vetting.

Sink: We’ll I’ll be damned. You’re willing to stake lake day on this?

They Were Roommates: I’m that serious.

They Were Roommates: That’s the vote.

They Were Roommates: All in favor?

Sink: Hell alright

Phone Guy: I don’t care

Nervous Nell: I mean, yyeah. I’d like to meet him

You: It’s up to him.

They Were Roommates: He’ll say yes

They Were Roommates: Anyway, moving on!

They Were Roommates: Nell, what were you saying about your ex?

Nervous Nell is typing…

Standing outside of Donnie’s door, you pressed your palms into your eyes until they stung. You’d been buzzed up automatically by that digital check so he must have known you were out here. You could almost imagine him looking through the peephole and wondering why you were struggling. Not wanting to keep the figment waiting, you blew out an irritated breath and knocked.

There was a pause before the door opened which had you second guessing yourself.

You watched as Donnie left the thing open and wandered back inside.

“You okay?” You followed after him and closed the door behind you.

He held up a finger before it returned to his desk so he could type something out on his computer. It was the first time you’d seen the thing active. The many screens glowed purple and seemed to hold a multitude of windows. Trying to take in as much information as possible, you went to study a prominent list when the whole system shut off.

He turned to you. “Final preparations complete. You were saying?”

“You can always say no. Change your mind. We can spend the day together; just the two of us.”

His snout scrunched slightly. “I know you heard what I just annouced.”

“Yeah, I just…” You looked away and then back. Donnie was wearing a black, high-necked rash guard that perfectly concealed whatever was under those bandages of his. Below that he had a pair of surprisingly casual black board shorts with a purple band that matched his bandana.

“This is suitable attire.”

“That’s not what I’m…” You clicked your tongue. “My friends are a lot.”

“You’ve both told me and I’ve seen as much if your roommate is any indication.”

“I know…”

He folded his arms. “Is this an insinuation that I should decline?”

Your eyes shot to his face. “What? No!”

He shifted his weight to one hip. “Do you think I’ll demean you in some way?”

“Of course not!”

“Then what is your concern?” He unfurled and closed the distance between you.

You looked down at your ragged shoes. “I…”

His feet shuffled into view and you caught the purple flip flops there.

“You look cute.”

“Y/N.”

“It’s hard to explain!” You brought your head up only to loll it back. “I’ve known most of these people for a decade at this point and they’re weird! They’re going to be watching you like a science experiment and I was sure you were gonna say no on principle when I asked you to come. Except…. You didn’t! You said yes and then we did all the crazy preparation and suddenly it’s day of and my idiot roommate is downstairs waiting in a car she borrowed through like five different connections and you’ve got on this adorable outfit and I just-!” You wound down and let your lids drop. “I want them to like you like I like you.”

You felt a hand on your shoulder.

You let its weight linger before you opened your eyes.

Donnie was waiting with what seemed like a patient gaze. “You misspoke. You certainly don’t want them to like me in the same way you do.”

You swatted at him.

He dodged easily by only moving his upper body while his feet stayed planted.

“Stop making light of my worries!”

“A logic query then?”

You frowned.

He went ahead anyway. “If they were to dislike me after today, would you stop seeing me?”

“Never.”

“Would that effect your relationship with them?”

“No…” Your mouth curled up into one corner. “Well… they’d probably do that thing where you secretly hate your friend’s partner, but never tell them to their face cause they’re so deep in it so instead you always try to change the subject and talk about anything but-”

Narrowly missing biting your tongue you realized your folly.

You’d insinuated Donatello was your partner.

Peaking at Donnie, he seemed to be processing your statement.

It was both happiness and discontent.

You both wanted to finally have a label, but also didn’t want to rush and ruin the one you could have.

“Sounds like a tiring exercise of moronic social convention.”

“Yeah…”

“I planned to elevate this by impressing them for your sake.”

You blinked.

“Eye for an eye, they will also be under my observation.”

“Hey-”

He leaned into your space and you moved with him as if he shifted your gravity field. “For as much a chance that they look down on me, I can do the same with the company you keep. You should be more concerned with what will happen if I don’t find them to have your best interests in mind…” He trailed off and his arm lifted.

“You don’t get to decide that.” Against your words, you tipped to make yourself more accessible to him.

He arched a brow as if that were a challenge before straightening up. His extended arm came into view and he plopped a black sunhat on his head. A chin cord dangled down with a purple bauble landing just below his throat.

Your mouth crinkled at the sight.

“My bags by the door.” He rounded you and you burst out laughing.

“You look like you’re dressed for three different occasions!”

“Do you want to know my additional reasons for accepting?” He looked back at you caustically as you turned.

You fought back the giggles. “Of course.”

“I consider this a type of day off which is not something I indulge in.” He shouldered his bag. “To this end, my attire communicates such.”

You nodded and chewed on your lips to keep anything else from coming out.

He opened the door. “Conducting multiple studies, one such research includes the art of relaxation. Thus I am immune to your mockery.”

It was just absurd enough for you to momentarily forget your worries.

“All business on your vacation!” You tittered and headed out into the hall.

“A vacation is an extended period of recreation.” He corrected you before locking the door.

Something about the way he said it this time made it click for you. “You studied.”

“That was implied, yes.”

“No.” You headed towards the elevator with him in tow. “You studied how to chill.”

He was quiet and when you glimpsed back at him he was staring at you as if he didn’t see the point in your reiteration.

“You’ve never had a day off?”

“Not by human standards.” He pressed the button. The elevator arrived quickly and you both boarded. “For most of my life I was not afforded the luxury. Hence, I don’t see the need. I either work or don’t.”

You watched him quietly out of the corner of your eye.

“That better not be pity.”

“It’s not.” You hummed as the bottom floor dinged. “I just got my assignment for today.”

He lingered where you stepped out.

“I’m gonna make sure you have the best break possible!”

At least, that’s what you meant to happen. You, however, had no control over your friends. Your roommate, as usual, was the worst of which. As soon as Donnie came close to the car, she split the two of you up. She had argued it had to do with his size and directed him to the front seat next to her. Taking the seat behind him, you watched in misery as she immediately began to quiz him. He seemingly took her questions in stride until she grew tired of his unflappable nature. As the vehicle made two more pick up stops, she switched to blasting music. Songs were sung in purposefully broken keys as you exited the city.

Donnie checked out somewhere along the way and stared out the window. In the backseat, one of your friends had found an old slot machine handheld game and had roped you into cracking its simple code. The music came down to a manageable volume and soon lax conversation matched the tone of the drive. The sun beamed in with a gentle warmth that carried early morning light. It also forboded the blistering turn that summer would take it. Chatter went on peacefully as you heard your roommate murmur to Donnie about an exit. He had his phone out and helped direct her. You tried not to gawk at how normal they suddenly seemed to one another.

A turn off was eventually achieved and you passed through a station to park at a lake. Everyone made the mad scurry out of the vehicle to stretch they legs before rounding up to gather goods. Your roommate yelled on her phone as Nelson was nowhere to be seen. Her shouts summoned the secondary vehicle’s crew and your other group of friends came over from where they had parked on the far side of the lot. Introductions were exchanged before a flurry of things happened. You tried to keep track of Donnie, but your friends caught him and you in separate conversations. It lead to you, several people apart, heading down a path.

The lake came into view and stretched out into separate sections. Ample spring rain meant the forest flanking it was lush and there were families already set up in small groups. Standing fisherman dotted one far off shore, while little kids splashed each other on a closer one. Your group commandeered a pavilion and stuff was strewn about as people claimed their spots. The casual nature of the yearly outing meant that everything ran on a relaxed familiarity.

“Where’s the cooler?!” One of your friends plopped what seemed like a dozen grocery bags on the metal table.

“Nels said he was close!” Your roommate grouched.

“Guess, we’ll start cooking just in case!” One of your more relaxed friends stood. He whipped out a pair of sunglasses that were hanging from his tank top and donned them. “Chemical time!”

Though he were at least four people away from you, you saw how Donnie perked up.

“Wanna join me?” It hadn’t seemed like your chill friend was paying attention, but he turned around o zero in on Donnie.

Donnie excused himself from whoever he was talking to and wound a path over to the man. “I’m intrigued by your word choice.”

“Then you’re gonna love what I’m about to cook up! You see, as a grill master, I’ve refined my process to a science-!” Your chill friend pointed towards a public grill stand with a roll of aluminum foil as his septer. He then lead the charge with it and Donnie followed with tight posture.

“Worried?” You heard a voice a little too close and soured.

“I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t interfered.” You turned towards your roommate.

“Relax, look at him.” She gestured with her chin and you turned to see Donnie nodding as your chill friend did something to the grill with a brush. “He’s not a kid. He’s doing fine on his own. In fact, the only way he could have bigger daddy energy was if he had a stupid blob of sunscreen on his nose.”

“Did someone say ‘daddy’?” A friend who was splayed out on top of the table looked over the edge of his glasses.

You stewed at the thought.

“Update your prescription, damn!” Your roommate pointed towards the grill.

The table friend hummed appreciatively. “I do love a man who can start a fire. Oh! And is good with tongs.”

“Can you not make tongs sexual?” Another friend on their phone didn’t even look up.

“Anything has an inherent eroticism if you use it right!” The table friend crawled over to the phone one and purred in their ear. They were promptly abandoned as the phone friend stood and walked away.

An obnoxious ringtone sounded.

“Nels!” Your roommate snatched your wrist without answering her phone.

“W-wait-!” You tried to look back at Donnie, but you were already being dragged out into the sun.

“Beta got the food, Alpha gets the stuff. That’s the deal!” Your roommate pulled harder.

She only allowed you to wrench yourself free once you fell in line. “I should at least tell Don I’ll be right back.”

“Ugh, stop! He’ll survive without you for two seconds!”

“I don’t get your deal.” You huffed and rubbed your wrist. “You want to vet him. You want nothing to do with him. You want to see how we interact. You keep splitting us up!”

“That’s the thing.” She rounded on you with a finger pointed at her forehead. “I’ve got the big brain here. You gotta keep ‘em guessing. You can’t be too obvious or they’ll catch on!”

“I literally told him that you were going to vet him.”

“And you think I didn’t account for that?” You roommate rolled her eyes away.

The parking lot and specifically Nelson’s car came into view.

“Look. Stop thinking about it and enjoy lake day. Everything else is my priority, not yours.” She jumped a few steps forward and shot you a smile before running full force at Nelson.

The man yelped and the two rounded the car twice before your roommate caught him with a noogie.

Hauling what teetered on camping equipment, the three of you eventually emptied Nelson’s car and returned to the group. Keen on canoeing, Nelson ran around making a checklist of who would go out as he proclaimed that only one person at a time was safe. Somehow you’d ended up third on the list before you’d even managed to make it over to Donnie. He was still at the grill which had been foiled up in a bizarre way.

“So if we move this part here, then we could actually smoke whatever meat we want!” Your chill friend shifted something with a spatula.

“A fascinating application of architecture.” Donnie hummed with a pack of hotdogs in hand.

“We got the cooler filled with ice.” You announced your arrival with the phrase you were told to pass along.

“Sweet.” Your chill friend bobbed his head. “I’m gonna go see what we got and set up a cooking schedule.” He held out his hand and Donnie passed him the hotdogs. “You got the fire, Colonel Dee?”

Donnie nodded easily and the man left.

You folded your hands behind your back to keep them from nervously fidgeting. “’Dee,’ huh?”

“That is the first time he’s used it.”

You nodded and fought against the creeping awkward air.

“You have a different question.”

“I’ve been told I’m worrying about you too much.” You grumbled and stepped away as a gust blew smoke in your direction.

Donnie moved in time and adjusted the foil which you now realized was protecting the flame from the wind.

“If you could give me some kind of answer…”

“You haven’t asked anything.”

“I guess… that’s right.” Your brows came together in frustration.

“Outward appearances haven’t indicated you were worried.”

You looked at him.

“So far I’ve recorded your catching up with friends, a multitude of inside jokes, and that you’ll soon be taken out on the water.”

On the nearby shore, Nelson pushed off the canoe with its first passenger on board.

“You heard all that?” You looked away and wondered why you couldn’t defeat this odd shyness.

“It’s your day off as well. You’re allowed to enjoy it.”

You were struggling with that concept. “But-?”

“Your friends have been tolerable. Kaleb, in particular.” Donnie nodded back to where your chill friend was laughing heartily at something. “I prefer to keep to myself, but just because I shun the company of others does not mean I don’t know how to keep it.”

You nodded.

What about all this was throwing you off?

“Though it hasn’t been without its challenges.”

“Oh?” An odd flicker in your chest reduced the load there.

Why did that make you feel better?

“On the walk up there were a few tone-deaf comments.”

“Oh.”

“Microaggressions. It is a failing of society.”

“Should I talk to them?” You looked towards the pavilion and tried to pick out who had done it.

Donnie shook his head. “I suppose one would be curious where my ears are.”

You blinked.

Donnie prodded something in the grill.

“Was that…?”

He glanced at you for a moment.

“I never actually asked so how did you know..?”

“I was not referring to you.” He raised up and looked down at you.

“It seemed like a call out!”

“’A guilty conscience needs to confess.’” He narrowed his gaze lethally.

You felt the weight of it and resisted squirming. “I just wondered where they were...” You trailed off but the oppressive stare pricked at your skin. “I’ve gotten close! I didn’t see anything so I was curious! I was waiting for a better time to ask!”

“Tympanum.” Donnie finally broke away to tend to the fire. “They’re in the same place.”

You repeated the word in your head several times in an effort to commit it to memory.

“Broadly speaking, you have my species. I’m surprised you haven’t looked anything up.”

That would have been a smarter thing to do.

You laughed nervously.

He shook his head at your hopeless case.

You fell into a comfortable silence and the wind carried on it the sounds of cheery conversation.

Out on the lake, Nelson paddled the boat in a curve towards the tree line.

“Y/N!”

You broke from where you were staring at the orange dot and turned back to see a friend waving a Frisbee at the pavilion.

“You game?!”

A confirmation ran to your lips before hesitation caught it.

Donnie gave a loud dramatic sigh that made you jump. “You’re being obnoxious.”

You gave him both a glower and a pout.

Through his irritation you saw a flicker of something else. You couldn’t place it as he descended upon you. The brim of his hat knocked your head before his lips pressed a quick kiss into your temple. He then dropped near your ear. “Go. Enough of this. I am enjoying myself whether you chose to believe so or not. I will signal you the moment that is not the case. Otherwise, I am going to continue to discuss engineering with Kaleb as he is already heading this way. Then I plan to run samples of the lake water.” He leaned back enough to monopolize your gaze. “Thorough enough?”

“You’ll have fun testing the lake water?” You bit back a brighter smile.

It had helped.

“Immensely.” He rose up and gave your back a gentle push.

“My man!” Your chill friend approached with open arms stuffed with packages. “Fire’s looking hot!” He then shifted his gaze to you. “Love this guy. Try to keep him around; I’d love to hang out again!”

“I’ll try…” You gave Donnie one last glance which he ignored.

Your chill friend set the bags down to rifle through them. “So, tell me more about this explosive compound you created?”

As you walked away you heard the faint sounds of Donnie infodumping. Smiling to yourself, you picked up to a jog where your Frisbee friend met you half way. The two of you chatted there before they reared back in a surprise throw. Running to catch it, a game picked up as a few other friends joined. The canoe returned and there was a trade off. You eventually headed back to the pavilion and ate chips while watching Donnie squat by the water’s edge. His existence seemed to spurn on a couple of your friends who tore their excess clothes off while mad dashing towards him. They splashed near him, but not close enough where he’d have gotten wet. He spoke to them when their heads resurfaced. They seemed to find whatever it was funny.

An ice cold soda touched your cheek and you screeched. Laughs were rounded and you eventually accepted the beverage. Bugs chorused the tittering and the sun gave a lazy hum. Eventually the canoe returned from its second journey and you were summoned by Nelson. You followed him out and saw that Donnie had his feet in the water. A few more of your friends had taken the plunge and were routinely yelling things. You and Donnie shared a glance as you boarded the canoe.

“Steady!” Nelson said more to himself before he pushed off and hopped in.

The light glistened off the water and you had to turn away.

“Mind if we go into the brush? I think I can open up a path!”

“Sure, I guess.” You resisted the urge to turn around just in case it upset the balance. You could feel the gentle rocking as Nelson paddled expertly. “How’ve you been?”

“Eh…” You sensed him shrug. “I got the official break-up notice yesterday.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Nah, Cor opened my eyes to it so I had warning.”

The shade of the trees loomed welcomingly nearby. You watched the way the water parted by the canoe’s bow. “You really liked her though. You were gonna introduce her to your parents. That sucks.”

“Yeah…” He pulled the paddle up and you glided for a moment. “This is helping.”

“Good.” You chanced back a smile. “When’s the last time you got out like this?”

“Too long!” He smiled back and thurst the paddle back into the lake for a hearty push. Overhead you broke through the trees and the shade gave a comfortable drop in temperature. “Since my parents are from the area, we used to do it all summer long. Since I moved to the city I haven’t been able to come out as much as I’d like.”

“That’s always the way.” You hummed and watched how the leaf litter floated on the surface until the bobbed ripples from the canoe disturbed them.

The two of you continued to chat as Nelson shared stories from his childhood. Eventually, you floated up to where a fallen tree blocked the path. Moving as if it were second nature, Nelson maneuvered the canoe right up beside it.

“Alright, let’s see!” He dug into the supplies stored in the stern and pulled out a small hatchet.

“Uh!?” You straightened anxiously.

He gave you a dumbfounded look. “This is standard equipment. Calm down! It’s for this exact purpose.” You watched as he then tied the canoe off to the log before raising the axe up high. He brought it down and started chopping away. “In case you get stuck!” He yelled over the loud slashing.

The canoe rocked and you held on as he hacked at the log. Eventually he neared the water with his cut and it started to splash algae sludge at you. “Nelson!”

He didn’t slow.

“UGH NELSON!!” You screamed as a blob of green landed on your arm.

“Huh?” He stopped the suddenly silence meant his voice was way too loud. “What was that? Oh, ew!”

“It’s getting all over me! Stop!”

“I’m almost through…” He raised the hatchet again.

“No!” You waved your hands. “I’m good!”

He frowned and started to undo the ropes. “I guess I’ll open up the path for the next rider.”

“Thanks.” You responded dryly.

“I made good progress though!” He stored the axe and then gathered up the paddle.

“I’m sure you did great.” You rolled your eyes.

He turned the canoe so it was facing the opposite direction and pushed off the log with an audible thump. Again, you studied the way the boat cleaved the otherwise still water. The sun poured overhead as you left the trees behind and you squinted at the pavilion. There was some sort of tag game happening there so you traced over to the water where people were floating lazily in comparison. A particularly hard to miss green man was absent. You held tightly to your seat to keep from rising up.

No matter where you searched, Donnie was nowhere to be seen. It cropped up nervous memories of the grocery store and you fidgeted to get your phone.

“Don’t drop it!” Nelson chirped behind you as if he were the pinnacle of help.

“Yeah, yeah.” You brushed him off and unlocked in. You had no new notification of mention. Frowning, you felt Nelson pull the paddle back before there was a soft bump to the canoe. “What… was that?” You held your phone close and tired to peer over the edge without moving much.

Nelson’s silence spoke odd volumes as the boat came to an abrupt halt. Looking around wildly, you found your captain sitting calmly with a smile on his face. Scowling, you looked back toward the water and caught two green hands holding the deck. Realization dawned on you as Donnie’s head surfaced.

“Hey!” You exclaimed and had to force yourself to stay put.

Donnie let go and swam towards to you. “Greetings.”

“What are you doing?” You chuckled and felt a grin way too big split your cheeks.

“Swimming.” He then disappeared back under the water. It was just murky enough along with his black clothing that he disappeared.

You rounded on Nelson. "You stopped. Is this an ambush?"

He held his hands up with the paddle in tow. "What!? No! It’s a reflex! You watch the water for threats and safety! I clocked him and the others near the beach so I saw when he dove. There were then signs that he was coming this way!"

You narrowed your gaze.

"Honest!" He then lowered the oar and seemed a little sheepish. "He's a turtle, right? Do you know what kind? He swims so well..."

You weren’t sure if that was something you were allowed to share. Before you could decide, you heard a little splash and looked over the other side of the canoe to find Donnie there. "I'm guessing the water tested good?"

"Passable" Donnie bobbed for a moment and then ducked again. You searched around curiously until you heard him somewhere behind Nelson. The canoe was set into motion and smoothly shot towards shore.

You disembarked and turned to address Donnie, but found him already floating out a ways.

“Now he could definitely get that log out of the way…” Nelson mumbled to himself before stepping right up to the water’s edge. “Uh! Donatello!”

Donnie easily changed position and looked over.

“Want to help me open a path!?” Nelson pointed to the trees.

“Not particularly.” Donnie responded plainly and disappeared under the water.

“Dead!” Your roommate cackled loudly. “Shot down twice in one week!”

“Not cool!” Nelson stormed towards the pavilion with the paddle in hand.

You heard ensuing chaos and, not wanting to participate, decided to walk the shore to your floating friends. “Hey!”

There was a three person chorus of recognition.

“How’s the water?”

“Amazing!” One of your friends floated up onto her back.

“Get your Olympic swimmer beau to give us rides!”

“He ignores us when we ask!”

You laughed. “Yeah, I doubt he’ll do that.”

“Get in! I bet he will if you’re around.”

“I’m not so sure.” You smiled more to yourself.

“Food’s ready!!!” Your chill friend’s voice interrupted with a boom.

There was splashing as everyone made a rush to get out of the water.

“Think about it, Y/N!” A wet hand made a pass at you that you dodged.

“Yeah, no!” You felt a presence behind you and turned to find Donnie watching casually. “Hi.”

“Are you going to greet me every time we’re separated for more than a few minutes?” He tilted his head and you watched a string of water bead down his chin.

Oh.

You shot your gaze elsewhere.

Now was not the time.

He moved and you watched as he picked up a folded towel from where the sand slowly morphed to ill tended grass. You swallowed hard as he wiped himself off and the muscles in his arms bulged under the clingy wet rash guard as he did so. “Shall we?” He gave you a knowing grin.

“Y-yeah.” You shot past him towards the pavilion.

This strange bashful plague whenever you got close to him was wearing thin.

Joining the group, you were welcomed heartily with a saved seat for both you and Donnie. You were both placed center stage, but found, much to your relief, that you weren’t the pinnacle of conversation. You secretly adored the fact that they’d paired you off. It gave you a chance to absorb as much information about Donnie’s cook-out eating habits as you could between the pinballed talking points. The flow dictated the two of you were pulled in different directions as conversation divvied up.

You might have mourned the loss had Donnie not caught you hand under the table. It was just sly enough that no one took notice. You tried not to give it away to the friend you were talking with and mentally excused the red on your face to the sun. The group gorged and, with the moment of respite, grew sluggish from the many activities. The fractured parties shifted around to include others and Donnie politely excused himself. You watched idly as he drifted back to the water and disappeared into its depths.

You realized his highly aquatic comment had not been a fib.

Someone tugged at your sleeve and you realized you’d missed what they said. Mumbling apologies, you jumped back in until everyone digested and spread out. A small group decided to explore the far side of the lake and departed in an expedition to find walking sticks. Others had settled into mobile gaming at the table while Nelson picked up canoe rides again. You stood, just under the shade, and looked out at the water. Donnie was floating on his stomach adjacent to where some of your friends were lazing on the beach. You shifted awkwardly before shrugging out of your shirt. You set it with your stuff and removed your bottoms which covered the swimsuit you had underneath.

Looking back out, Donnie hadn’t moved and you sort of wish he’d seen the reveal. Shoving those disruptive feelings away with the others, you reminded yourself he’d seen you in far less. Departing, passing goodbyes chased you from those left at the pavilion. You strode up to beach before kicking your shoes off. You then toed into the water. “It’s warm…”

“Sun!” One of your friends mumbled drunkenly from where her feet were buried in the sand. “It’s so nice.”

“It cools off if you go out some.”

“Such a perfect day.”

You lingered with them in their sun bleached moment before you heard the gentle rustle of waves. Donnie’s form traveled smoothly over. “Are you getting in?”

“Thinking about it.”

He hummed and sank down until only his eyes were above the water.

“Watching me?” You took a step forward bringing the water up to your ankles.

His chin rose to reveal his mouth. “Yes.”

You smiled and moved until the lake lapped at your knees.

He floated as close as you imagined he could with his height. “I’m logging this look to memory.”

You bit your lip. “I was hoping you’d notice.”

“I always do.” He disappeared under the depths as soon as you looked up.

Smiling ruefully, you moved against the weight of the water until you dipped into its embrace. You then wadded out until you were able to comfortably stand up to your shoulders. Donnie hadn’t surfaced and you spun around causing ripples to cascade away from you. You hadn’t given it much thought until now, but it was clear he could breath underwater to an extent.

There was a tap to your leg and the weight of the touch had a signal to it that it wasn’t meant to be scary. You searched the water, but your movement had kicked up silt and made it opaque. A distinct hand found its way around your waist you and you looked towards that direction. It wasn’t until its twin joined that you realized he was behind you. You heard the water breach as he came up.

“I’m going to pull you.”

You nodded and your feet left the bottom of the lake. His arms encircled you until you were pulled into his plastron. Beneath you, you could feel the way his legs were keeping you both smoothly afloat.

“They’re watching…” You mumbled much quieter than you meant.

You actually hadn’t checked.

It wasn’t just your body that was swimming.

“I’ve done nothing inappropriate.” He disappeared from your back and you wished you hadn’t mentioned it. “Arms out.”

“They’ll come up with something…” You obeyed.

He gave the handhold on your waist a tight squeeze. “I don’t understand why your friends trigger this embarrassment in you. You are otherwise shameless.”

“N-Not true!” You turned to try and see him, but he ducked away.

“Kick, I’m going to let go.”

“Hey, I’m not done.” You heard a splash that said he dove and sighed. You kept yourself afloat and did a little circle to look where he’d just been. Below you, you felt a skim around your feet. Kicking out, your toes slid along his rash guard. Wondering how deep this part of the lake was, you gave up on searching with your eyes. Closing them, you waited with heightened sensitivity for him to return. He did so somewhere around your thigh and, from the graze, you could sort of tell that he had brushed against you with his snout. He then curled expertly around and did so to your other leg.

The light touches had filled your head with effervescence. He continued to swim around you in tight knit circles until his head breeched the surface around your front. Against the cool water, your cheeks burned and you sank down to put them out.

Why couldn’t you just enjoy this?

He’d handled the day with such ease.

Unaware, Donnie watched with a carefree expression and something about it registered in your brain.

He wasn’t his usual restrained self.

At least, not the prior version; the one you’d met.

He’d held himself differently in front of your friends, but nowhere near how cold he’d initially been to you.

It made you self conscious.

Was it you?

He’d said a few things about acting and you weren’t sure why you’d originally been excluded from that if this is how he could be.

You’d technically won out in the end, but the victory currently felt hollow.

Returning your attention, Donnie relaxed nature seemed mocking. It was happy in a way you’d yet to see him. It contrasted the version of pacification that was brought up by sex or exhaustion. This version of Donnie was alert, but didn’t have the usual barriers up. He ducked down and from the streaks of water he swam away. It reminded you of a dolphin.

Startling, the water lapped at your ears and drowned out your concern.

He was being playful.

As if caught in the flow of a tide, the worry receded and what washed back up felt very silly.

Regardless of its origin, you were being gifted a unrestrained version of your partner.

This had been your plan for the day, even if you hadn’t been the one to set it into motion.

You could share your worries later, for now you were overcome with affection.

You swallowed the excited sound that rumbled in your throat. Swimming towards where he had gone, you felt him slide up beside you. He got ahold of you and took over steering. A noise of surprise weaseled its way out of you as you shot forward faster than you could imagine going alone. There was a polish to the way he swam that signified he was one with the water. Changing direction with little whiplash, he drove you both back to where you could stand before depositing you there. You then watched as the ripples seemed to indicate he traveled to the other side of the lake.

“See what we mean?”

You turned to the voice and found your friends had waded back in.

“Catch him at Sea World!”

“Wouldn’t that mean salt water? He’s a turtle. Isn’t that bump on his back a shell?”

“There are saltwater turtles.”

“Literally sea turtles.”

“Oh! Huh! That makes sense.”

“I’m glad he’s having a good time.” You softened and watched Donnie meet up with the group who had made their way to the other side of the lake.

“Who wouldn’t? It’s a perfect day!”

“He’s a weird one, but in a good way.”

You nodded.

“Rich coming from you!”

“Hey! What do you mean!?”

“You know!”

One of your friends ambushed the other and dragged them down. It quickly devolved into a dunk and splash war with no clear winner. Eventually a failed game of Marco Pollo tried to catch its footing, but your chill friend approached with the cooler rolling behind him. He started floating drinks out to those in the water and that became a game in and of itself. Arguing and laughing ensued.

The sun tilted overhead and your fingers signaled the start of pruning. Twirling in the water, you found Donnie floating on his back and soaking up the rays. Even from here you could tell his face was utterly serene. Sharing a parting look with your friends, you swam over to him. He peaked only to seemingly confirm who it was before letting his eyes close again. You came up near his torso and studied the way his body moved with the current. “You float so well.”

Instead of opening his eyes, one of his brows came up in a way that signified he thought that was obvious.

“Yeah turtle, ha ha. It’s been the talk of the town. I meant on your back. You were floating the other way earlier.”

He gave a little understanding nod. “It is easier the other way, but as long as I adjust the air in my lungs and find a balance point, I can sustain any position.”

“The air on your lungs…” You thought it over as your arms swayed to keep you afloat. In doing so you watched Donnie gingerly bob and with his size and straight posture, he almost looked like a pool toy. “Will you stay up if I lean on you?”

He nodded languidly.

Tempering your excitement, you swam closer and chose the flat of the plastron around his stomach. You were careful and he dipped as you threw your arms over him. He quickly righted and, with a little adjusting, you eventually came to fold your arms under your head. The dark color of his rash guard had absorbed the sun’s rays and made him a basking platform. Lulled by it, you closed your eyes.

In a pleasant way, you felt time tick by as the sun lapped at your back. Here and there you’d hear commotion from the beach, but nothing seemed pressing enough to move. You idly wondered how far you’d drifted when those thoughts seemed to simply trickle away. The gently rocking of the waves filled your ears and the warmth of the sun cradled your body. You weren’t sure if you completely drifted off when Donnie brushed a hand over your shoulder.

“Hm?” You couldn’t be bothered to make full words.

“We’re being waved over.”

“Tell them to hit snooze.”

He chuckled. “It’s your roommate.”

You sighed and pushed off your rock. You sank for a moment forgetting you needed to propel yourself. Darting back to the surface with a gasp, you watched your roommate laugh from the shore.

You played up your scowl so she could see it.

Regaining composure, she wiped an eye. “We’re heading back!! Let’s go, turtledoves!!”

You grumbled.

“Agreed.” Donnie swam around you. “However, if we leave now, we’ll just make it back to the city before dark.”

That didn’t seem right, the sun had only just barely tipped from overhead.

Squinting up, you found it had sank three quarters of the way through the sky. “How long have we been out here?”

Donnie hummed as if he didn’t care and there was something about that lackadaisical side to him that shot you through the heart.

“Why do you live in the city?”

He skimmed to your side in thought.

“You’re so much happier here.”

He slowed into a drift. “Work. Convenience. Mutant Epicenter. Take your pick.”

That third one had you tilting your head.

He ignored it and did a lap around you.

“It just seems like-”

He slowed, curious.

Clapping echoed from the shore. “Chop, chop! You’re going to do your part packing up! Don’t try to get out of it!”

You sighed.

He found your hand underwater and tugged you along slowly.

“We should come back here though.”

Donnie focused on swimming.

“Just us.”

He didn’t look back. “Not here.”

“Oh.” The shore was getting closer and closer.

In a smooth twirl, he pivoted to your side. “I can show you somewhere better.”

There was a veiled nature to his statement that said it meant a lot more than he was letting on.

“One day.” He seared a look into your eyes before resuming his tugboat position.

You tried to place it as the water lapped at your throat.

Was it that it hinted at a time frame?

Did the location itself hold some importance?

You had that and a million more questions by the time you reached the beach. Donnie grabbed you your towel before he got his. Even then, you struggled with the sand as you put your shoes back on. There was a metered chaos to the pavilion as everyone tried to rightfully gather what was theirs. Snacks were fought over and eventually goodbyes were had. Hugs promised a repeat next year and you parted to your respective vehicles while splitting the loads that would go inside them. Your roommate helped tie the canoe back onto Nelson’s car before she came around and pointedly shooed Donnie to the backseat.

She gave you an approving nod, which you took with a surprised blink. She then slipped around to the driver’s side. You timidly translated it to Donnie who had seen the display and, in a show that said his reserved demeanor was returning, stood stoic. Crawling into the car, the radio was turned down low and no one spoke as exhaustion crept in. Your third backseat companion fell asleep as soon as a long thoroughfare was hit and you slumped back to fight your own eyelid battle.

Donnie nudged you and you resisted falling into him as your hair was still wet. Not realizing that was his intention, he shifted to giving you a tug by slinging his arm around you. You tipped into him and looked up to find him staring out the car window.

“Why go back?” You kept your voice as low as possible both to mind the passengers and to keep the conversation just for his ears.

He didn’t look away. “There is more in the city now than what I listed previously.”

“Like what?”

You watched as he blinked slowly before turning to look down at you.

Your stomach flipped.

He seemed satisfied with your reaction and started to move his head back.

“You’re different.”

“How so?”

“Then when we met…” Exhaustion brought about loose lips, but not coherency. “With everyone… Were you just…?” You lowered your gaze to where his hat sat in his lap. “What’s real?”

You jostled as he snapped towards you.

When you didn’t look the arm around you folded at the elbow and a hand wrapped around your forehead. He then used that appendage to pull you back so you were forced to look up at him.

“This is real.”

His voice was too loud, too clear.

You could feel your roommate looking the rear-view mirror.

He wouldn’t want that kind of attention. “Donnie…”

“No.” His voice was again forceful. “I need you to know that.”

You nodded and he evaluated you harshly. “I’m sorry…”

“For what?” The weight of his hand lessened and his voice lowered.

“For doubting you.”

“Reassurance, as discussed, is ongoing and mutual.”

Your lids were growing heavier by the second. “Then why are you…?”

Different?

You weren’t sure you could finish the thought.

“You.” He whispered into your ear and the tone of his voice lulled your eyes closed. “You’re the answer.”

The orange hues through your lids danced as the last thing you saw before you drifted off.

#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction #weakspotfic

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apocalypse-shuffle · 9 months

Text

JASON TODD | RED HOOD (batman:under the red hood 2010 | canon divergence?)

────────────────────

“In Your Eyes” (Jason Todd x Gn!Reader)

| Jason Todd is gone, has been for years, but his ghost still haunts you.

| SFW, angst, reader was in a relationship w/Jay (TW: suicide, passively suicidal reader-insert, hallucinations, blood, personal neglect, mature language) - could be platonic or romantic honestly

| Just go with the timeline weirdness. (pics via: Batman: Under The Red Hood 2010 movie)

| 1k+ words

b.NOTES: Yes, I decided to post this for Jason’s birthday, and yes, it is a downer. 🥳🎉

This was going badly, even you could admit that. Every possible thing that could’ve gone wrong was going wrong. You were out of batarangs because Bruce had threatened to bench you for failing to follow orders so you’ve been avoiding him; subsequently missing your last supply check.

You’d been in a nasty fight coordinated by Oracle with Nightwing last week and your suit too had gotten fucked to hell but your backup was, once again, at the manor. Then what was supposed to be a by the numbers recon mission was now a shoot out because you haven’t slept for more than three hours in days and you slipped up.

Bruce’s disappointed scowl flashes across your mind as you slam into an abandoned office, a hail of bullets cascading after you.

Icing on the fucking cake was that you couldn’t even call him for help if you wanted to. You had abandoned your com two days ago when the announcement that Tim was joining the Titans had gone live. It was irrational, you had known he was joining. Hell, you’ve even met the kid, but something about the news had just jarred you more than even fighting alongside the new Robin had. Now everyone had concrete confirmation (if they paid attention at least) that Jay was gone and it hurt.

When the last barrage has calmed down - and you can just barely make out the sounds of people converging on your cover - you move with a wild burst of energy, crashing yourself through the office window. The second story drop out of the foreclosed building should’ve been easy, the shouts being left behind you and wind nicking at your face should’ve been the end of this nightmare mission.

Instead there’s the zip of something harshly breaking through the air followed by searing heat as you’re hit mid fall.

“Fuck!”

The second you land you crumble to the ground, slapping your hand over the furiously bleeding wound.

The back of the knee.

Fucker managed to get you right where it’d hurt and the projectile broke right through your armor like it was nothing.

Blood trickles down your leg, quickly saturating the absorbable pieces of your costume.

Yeah, you’ve officially gotta get outta dodge.

A very real problem arises though when you limp forward and not only does your knee buckle dangerously but there’s a man blocking your easiest exit out the alleyway you landed in.

“You lost, little bat?”

“Nng,” is all you can grunt out. You fling your last batarang, absently clocking as it knocks the gun from the man’s hands and the goon yelps in surprise. Your leg feels completely drenched, and you should feel more pressed about that than you do.

Just then is when your knee decides to give out and you drop to the ground hard with a thin scream. There’s spots dancing in your vision and the guy’s talking but you can’t hear a word.

You rush in a stuttering breath, fighting against the pull of your eye lids. Maybe… maybe you could just finally go to sleep - you can’t remember the last time you hit REM without immediately being jolted awake by your dreams anyway - why not camp out here until one of the bats found you or…or you died of hypothermia. Who knew concrete could feel as good as memory foam.

The pounding of feet grabs your attention next - each foot fall vibrating your skull - and you blink back to yourself however many seconds later. Head lifting what catches your eye makes your body still.

No, goddamnit. Not now. You shake your head but the resolve catches in your throat anyway.

"I thought you were dead." You feel out of breath with relief now, examining his domino-less face. Drinking up the mere sight of him.

"I know." He whispers; soft but not quite apologetic.

He steps closer and you shudder, have to force yourself not to take a corresponding shuffle back. This couldn't be.

He was still in the vibrant reds, greens, and yellows of his Robin uniform. He always was whenever you dreamed even though the last time you’d seen him was at a book reading where he was in regular clothing. In that damn red hoodie.

Even though you know the costume he died in was in tatheres, caked in his eviscerated flesh and burnt-in blood, the suit you see now is impossibly pristine.

"No,” you mutter weakly. Jason moves closer and goes to put his light hand to your dark cheek. You grab and throw it down, pushing yourself up and back, heartbeat clammering up your throat as your wounded leg drags after you.

"No! No! I won't-" your back hits the brick wall behind you and you collapse. Bruce had been chewing you out about getting help for the insomnia and to get therapy to move past Jason's death but you’d ignored him, ignored everyone, even your parents. Now it was too late.

On the cold wet floor you shrink into yourself, crying.

"Jason Todd is dead!" You yell, looking at the image in front of you. You swear you can feel the rush of air from him crouching down.

Jason frowns at you and there are tears building up in his eyes. You gag. You were so tired of your mind throwing shit like this at you. You couldn't do it anymore.

It’s when you’re screaming at nothing that the goon takes advantage of your distraction and lunges forward towards the gun that he’d lost at your intervention. He cocks it at the mouth of the alleyway. You sit down at the other end, only briefly looking at the man aiming at you before shifting your blurry gaze back to Jason.

His eyes get cloudy and distraught, but you just keep babbling nonsense at him, tears streaming down your skin in ravines. Jason opens his mouth and stands but doesn't come any closer.

"Y/N please don't do this, I'm here. I'm with you, I swear, just please make him put the gun down. Throw a smoke bomb, run away, something,” he begs, tears of his own now cascading down his face.

“Not this time,” you whisper. You weren’t letting another sleep addled hallucination keep you alive, the pain that came with that burden was too much. Death was so much better. You just wanted it to end. "I'm sorry, Jay, but I can't."

Jason hiccups, shakes his head rapidly.

"Yes you can, just leave." He takes a step forward. The man’s finger begins pressing down on the trigger. "Just run away, please!" He screams out a plea you’ve heard more than once, a plea you can no longer heed to.

The gunshot goes off and you don’t dodge, you don’t try to lessen the blow, or make sure it hits somewhere non lethal. You just close your eyes and let the bullet break through already compromised armor.

"Y/N!"

- - -

The gun clatters to the ground as the gunman watches the hero slump.

“Shit.” He runs. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Vigilantes weren’t supposed to stay down in Gotham.

Your hand slides to your side; body limp and leant crookedly against the wall, black skin under you mask too washed out - to grey - to come back from.

There were no traces of any former Robins having been in the alleyway when the Batman found you. Just of one ordinary goon in a sea of many who you should’ve been able to fend off.

- - -

When Jason had gotten his mind back he'd been dead set on Gotham; on Bruce and finding his old best friend. So a few hours after he'd been back in his hometown he mustered up enough courage to go to your house.

Except it was different.

Where shelves were once overflowing with books and collectibles in your room they were now bare and dust riddled. Where a bed used to lay was just barren ground, and where it once felt like home it now felt more like rapid cruelty and crushing emptiness.

That night Jason had snuck back out of your old house with cold eyes and a churning stomach, he'd never admit to himself that he felt this much dread at missing out on so many years of life that you'd already moved out, moved on. Hell, your parents weren’t even there anymore.

That night he tries to blow up the Batmobile, Batman and the pretender in his place with it. That night he decides he can do much worse than some bomb.

- - -

It'd been a whirlwind trying to find you but eventually Jason did, just not the way he'd expected.

He had been looking for a couple of deserters and was ganged up on by a group of Mask’s thugs who had been working for him - guess he’d found those deserters - and were looking to get back in Mask’s good graces by taking down the Big Bad Hood and overthrowing his newly minted empire.

Jason had been chased over the rooftops of Gotham - picking off who he could as he went - till he could lose the group in the minefield that was the largest graveyard on the outskirts of the city.

He had been deftly making his way through the resting place when a bouquet of flowers caught his attention. Your favorite.

A small smile stretched across Jason's face as he sidled up to the tombstone. He initially meant to look at the flowers for a second before continuing on his way, but the beginnings of your name on the shiny stone caught him up.

Jason furrowed his eyebrows before sucking in a sharp breath after he let his thumb ghost over the engraved name to uncover what the dirt was hiding.

He took a step back in shock as he read your full name, clear as day, in the granite. Tears welled in his eyes and he ripped his helmet and domino mask from his face, dropping to the ground. His hands shook as they slid over the wet dirt that covered your casketed body.

“No. Fuck, not like this. I wasn’t supposed to find you like this.”

He was supposed to come back and make everything better. Bruce was supposed to finally avenge him, and you were supposed to reunite, not trade places.

e.NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

This is an edited/updated version of one of the first Jason Todd fics I’d ever written. I did keep some of its logistic oddness for preservation purposes though.

To my surprise also I didn’t have to edit as much of this as I thought, so props to twelve year old me fr😉. (Also I wrote this when I was actually suicidal so please be respectful, it is a tad bit mean-spirited - Maybe? I feel like it could come off that way to other people, idk?)

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. I just won’t respond cause this is a sideblog.

#⚠️ TW: Suicide ⚠️#jason todd #red hood #black!reader #black y/n #jason todd x black!reader #jason todd & black!reader #happy birthday jason #gn!reader #black gn reader #red hood x black!reader #jason todd angst #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader

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lavenderbexlatte · 1 year

Text

legendary: chapter 13

stray kids 6.2k words female reader insert SFW/some adult themes

🖤 warnings: temporary major character death, themes of life/death, a straight-up lift from Pokemon Indigo League episode The Tower of Terror bc it’s good plot, grandfather figures, kim seungmin gets his moment, the stupidest and most self-indulgent cameo ever just ignore it this is MY story dammit-🖤

Legendary Series Masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

Waking up, when you don't remember going to sleep, is always jarring.

You think you were awake, anyway. Doing something important.

Whatever it was, you can't quite remember yet. Your head is foggy and just a little too tight, like it's full of sawdust that wants to spill out your ears.

Someone is shouting, nearby. It's loud and it's annoying, and so finally, you pry your eyes open.

You're in a dark room. That's right, that's right, you're in the Pokemon Tower. That haunted old building. You're here with...Team K, and your District 9 boys. You're talking to...

"(Y/N)!"

It's like the scream of your name plugs your brain back in correctly, your adrenaline spiking and your awareness suddenly returned a hundredfold.

Jiwoo is here. Jiwoo, and men with guns, and they want to take your friends away, and you were trying to save Oddish-

You clamber to your feet as quickly as you can, fighting the way that the room spins. Oddish, you need to see if Oddish is okay, you'll never forgive yourself if they caught her-

But Oddish is sitting on the ground, in someone's hand.

In your hand.

Your hand, you realize, peering down at the prone form of someone, someone who you could fucking swear is you, crushed under a golden and crystalline chandelier, pinned to the floor in a dozen places.

That's you. But you're you.

It's surreal. You feel like you're floating.

No, you are floating. You yelp, looking down at the floor to realize you're floating up, a foot or so above the floor and rising higher, until you will yourself downward in a panic and your feet meet the floor again. You glance around, helpless, wondering if anyone sees what you see.

And someone does. Several someones, but they're not the type to help.

"Haunt."

The Haunter from before, a Gastly, and a Gengar the size of a refrigerator are all watching you. Ghost types usually prefer to be intangible and invisible, but you can see them just fine. And they can see you.

It seems like they're the only ones who can see you.

In fact, Chan runs right through you.

You don't really feel it, a tickle like wind brushing past, as Chan runs straight through your body and over to your body - because that's what it is, just a body, because your essence, whatever makes you, seems to be over here - and kneels, starts shaking the motionless, outstretched arm that holds Oddish.

"-Get up," Chan is saying, pleading, "This isn't fucking funny, get up, right now-"

Jiwoo is motionless. Everyone is. There are a dozen people in this room, and they're all staring at the body under the chandelier.

"Please."

Minho's voice is terrible, and far too gentle. "Chan, I think-"

Chan stands up. He looks at the ceiling, as if he's looking through it, as if he can see the starlit sky past the layers of wood and metal and ghost.

"Please."

It sounds like a prayer.

And it works.

"Mm?"

The cry kind of sounds like a Pokemon, you think. But not one you've ever heard before.

Chan's eyes are still fixed on the ceiling, until, down through the hole that's broken in the floor above, a Pokemon descends.

It's not very big. Slight, and bright pink, with a small catlike face on a bipedal-type body and a long thin tail. It regards Chan with intelligent teal eyes, floating in the air before him.

"Mew?"

Mew.

"You...just...summoned Mew," Somin rasps.

Her voice is tinged with something like reverence, and you understand why.

The mythical Pokemon, said to have the DNA of all Pokemon combined. Able to learn any move, do anything, go anywhere. Live underwater, in the middle of raging volcanoes, in outer space. One of the two most dangerous, most fantastical Pokemon that exist.

Mew is here.

"Fix her," Chan says.

Mew is here for you.

Mew looks down at the body, its little front paws steepled. It looks at Chan, for a second. And then, ever so slowly, it looks over at you, where you're struggling to stay on the ground. It meets your eye. It can see you.

"Mew."

"You have to fix her," Chan repeats.

The mythical Pokemon shakes its head.

"I know you can!"

When Chan raises his voice, the spell that seems to have fallen over the rest of the room breaks. Seungmin starts running up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Changbin digs out a Pokeball and releases Primeape into the room, and Minho follows suit with his Ditto.

Mew looks back at you.

And over by the door, Jiwoo screams, voice cracked, feral: "Don't just stand there, fucking get it!"

Chaos.

The KeyCorp goons swarm at Mew.

Your friends order their Pokemon to attack.

It's a lot to follow, and your head still kind of feels like it's stuffed with sawdust.

In the midst of it all, the noise, the Fire attacks and the splintering wood and the projectiles raining down, Mew comes up to you. It looks you up and down curiously. You look back at it, taking in its short silky fur, its eyes that seem to look right through you. Before you know it, you have your hand out, stroking Mew's face. The little Pokemon leans into your touch for a second, with a happy purr.

And then, as quickly as it had come, it flies out the broken window, and away.

When your attention returns to the scene around you, it seems that firearms have outdone firepower. Bullets can hurt Pokemon just as well as people, of course, so even Primeape and Arcanine are standing down. It seems like your friends are losing.

Matthew is on the floor, with a security officer kneeling on the small of his back. Somin has each arm held fast by two more staff, and J.Seph is nowhere to be seen.

"Unfortunate that I can't take her, too," Jiwoo is saying, looking over at the - your - body. "But I have another idea."

She nods, and the last two of her staffs walk, guns still raised, at Chan. Arcanine growls, low and dangerous, but Chan shushes it.

"Me?" he asks.

"You," Jiwoo agrees. "You, and your...curious connections."

The officers haul Matthew to his feet, and drag him, jerking and kicking, out the door. Somin's captors follow with her suspended between them.

Chan raises his hand slowly, and calls Arcanine back into its Pokeball. "If I go, you leave my friends alone."

"Deal," says Jiwoo.

The Pokeball goes into Chan's pocket, and once he's effectively disarmed, the officers rush him, taking him by the arms like they have Somin.

"I'm sure we can get a repeat performance of that little Mew miracle, hm?" Jiwoo tells him, as the officers lead him out the door.

"Fuck you."

"Oh, you'll warm up in no time," she promises, glancing at the remaining guys. "Boys, I would take her with you. Nasty surprise for the caretakers, if you don't."

And with that, Jiwoo sweeps out the door.

Seungmin has disappeared upstairs, but as soon as they're gone, Minho and Changbin bolt for the chandelier. You don't really want to see what they find. You turn away, looking, instead, at the withering ceiling.

Since your body is on the floor over there, you wonder...

You will yourself up, the way you'd willed yourself down, before.

You float.

Right up, right through the ceiling, right up to the next floor.

It's a bedroom, you think, maybe an old caretaker's room or something. The sheets on the rickety bed are molding and the window is sealed shut with decades of grime, so it's surely abandoned. You wonder if you can even sit like this, but as you move to sit on the bed, there's no trouble. You don't phase through the mattress, or anything. You just sit.

You sit for a while.

Nothing should surprise you at this point, but you still startle and shriek when, after some time, a man walks into the room.

"Oh!" he exclaims, as you choke through your scream. "Oh, dear, oh dear, I'm frightfully sorry, didn't mean to - well. Scare you to death."

He winks at you.

This man is silver-haired, his face lined with age, wearing a red sweater and a lab coat. There's a tinge to him that suggests he isn't quite human, like if you tried to look at him sidelong, he would vanish. You get a creeping feeling that you might look the same. Even so, he's familiar in a way that you can't quite place.

"Who-"

"Oh, but you are already dead, aren't you?" the man says, folding his hands behind his back and pacing closer. "Oh, yes, dead as dead can be!"

"I'm...dead?"

The man looks at you strangely. "Of course. How could you be anything else?"

You suppose it makes sense.

"I'm dead, too, of course," he adds.

"I'm sorry," you say, uncertainly.

The man smiles. "I'm not! Why, I've learned more being dead than I did alive! It's a most excellent adventure."

"Who...are you?" you ask again.

He holds out a hand for you to shake. "Professor Oak. Pokemon Professor."

You knew that he was familiar. You saw him. You saw photos of him, ancient photos...

"Oak. As in...Oak Laboratories?"

"The very same!"

Impossible.

The professor snaps his fingers. "That's right! You were that clever trainer who figured out how to get into my secret lab. Oh, you're a bright one. Good to have you."

"I'm sorry for breaking in."

"You apologize too much, child. Never apologize for brilliance."

At that compliment, bold-faced and entirely undeserved but delivered with such resounding love, you stand, and take his hand for a firm shake. His skin is warm against yours, the weight of his calloused, aged hand feeling extraordinarily ordinary.

"Are we...ghosts?" you ask.

Professor Oak hums. "I don't quite know. But that's the fun of science, is it not? Sometimes we never know."

"And...and, what are you doing here?"

"Many questions. Good, a curious mind is a valuable thing," he says. "The Pokemon thought you needed some guidance, I believe. I don't think I'm particularly good at that sort of thing, but I'll certainly try!"

"Guidance?"

"Mm. A little wisdom about being dead, you see."

"I don't want to be dead," you say.

"Are you sure?" the professor asks, wry. "It's quite an experience. You might enjoy it."

"My friends are in trouble."

"I hate to say this, but perhaps that's not your concern, any longer."

"No, it is," you say, voice shaking, "It's absolutely my concern. It's my fault. I have to get back, somehow, I have to go fix everything, everything-"

Professor Oak shushes you. "Child, there's no shame in admitting defeat. Even for strong folks, like you, there is a limit. If you've been granted reprieve, perhaps the time to take it has come."

"I can't let anything else happen to my friends because of me, I-"

You have to stop, because the lump in your throat is too large. Another word, and you won't be able to hold back the tears.

"Ah, child, I'm playing a bit of devil's advocate, forgive me, you don't need to cry," he smiles, a grandfather's warm smile. "It's not as if I want you to stay dead, for my sake. The Pokemon did think that you had some...loose ends, shall we say, to tie up, back in the land of the living."

"What Pokemon?" you ask, frustrated.

"There are powers beyond your wildest dreams, my dear, that Pokemon hold. Some of them, the ones who busy themselves with the matters of humans, have quite serious opinions about this and that," he says gently. "You must have caught someone's eye."

Some Pokemon, with powers beyond imagination, watching you?

"If - if that's true, and I'm supposed to be alive, how can I do it?" you ask.

The professor folds his arms, strokes his chin with one hand, the picture of deep thought. "Why, I've never tried, myself. But to think through the conundrum, like a scientist - which I am, of course, not even death can stop curiosity - then..."

"The Pokemon sent you, right?"

"They did."

"Then could Pokemon be the answer?"

"No matter the question, Pokemon are the answer," he teases. "But I believe you're correct."

"But how-"

Professor Oak's eyes are twinkling, his smile wide and dangerous. You can imagine, suddenly, that he really was a mad scientist, so many years ago.

"A link between the living and the dead already exists among Pokemon. Quite commonly, in fact. I believe that link is already present, in this building," he says.

"Gaaaastly."

"There we go!" Professor Oak cries.

It comes up through the floor. A Gastly, and while at first you think it's the one that lives here, you soon realize why it's looking at you like that.

"Are you Seungmin's Gastly?" you ask it.

"Gaastly!"

"That is a yes," Professor Oak pipes up.

"That means Seungmin is still here," you realize, your nonexistent pulse picking up with adrenaline as you understand. "Professor, could...could a Ghost Pokemon help me?"

"A being that is neither fully dead nor alive, like a Ghost Pokemon is believed to be, would prove quite helpful," he says thoughtfully.

You turn to Gastly. "Can you help me get back to my body?"

The Pokemon's fanged mouth spreads wide in a grin. "Gastly."

"I think that is also a yes," says the professor.

"I'm going to go try," you decide.

You have to try. You don't know what Gastly can do, but there's no way you can do this if you're...whatever you are now. A ghost, a memory, a being that your friends can't even see...there's no way you can help them unless you're whole again.

"Then my work here is done!" Looking deeply satisfied, Professor Oak strolls toward the door. "Perhaps I'm better at giving advice than I believed. Hm."

There’s no doubt that the professor just led you to the answer. Whatever his stated intent was, coming here, whatever he is and how he found you, you can’t help but feel like all he did was get you going and then let you work out the details for yourself. It feels somehow embarrassing, like manipulation, and also like the most masterful teaching by leading.

"Professor," you say.

He pauses in the doorway. "Yes?"

"I'm a Pokemon professor, now, too. Or, I'm going to be," you say, awkward. "If...if I make it out of this, I'm going to fix everything. It'll be like it was before, when you were alive. I'll...I can bring your lab back, if you want. Make things like they were before, with Pokemon, and new trainers…and..."

The old professor looks at you with...pride. It's pride, you realize, in the smile lines by his eyes and the quirk of his mouth, pride like a parent, like a grandparent. Pride in you.

"Nothing, child, would bring me more joy than that."

You beam at him, even as your eyes brim with inexplicable tears. "And if I die again, I'll find you."

"Let us hope you're as old as I am, with even more adventures to share, when that time comes."

"Thank you, Professor Oak."

He waves his hand. "No, please, believe me. Thank you, for being an excellent reminder, to this old dead man, of what living is about."

Professor Oak vanishes into thin air as he walks out the door.

Gastly is waiting there patiently when you glance over, wiping your eyes. "Let's do this."

You've almost gotten the hang of this new way of moving, as you descend through the floor again with Gastly. Back down there, only Seungmin is left.

He's sitting cross-legged on the floor next to your lifeless body, which is now free. The chandelier sits over to one side, thrown away and hopelessly broken.

When he spots his Pokemon, he jumps up. "Is she here?"

The Gastly just nods, and goes over to nudge its trainer affectionately.

"(Y/N)?" Seungmin asks the room at large.

"Yes?"

He doesn't react, so you assume he didn't hear you.

"If you're here," Seungmin says, "If you're here, I know what to do. We've done it before, just not with a person."

He tucks his hands into his pockets, waiting, it seems, for a reply that's not going to come.

"One time, I ran over a Weedle with my dad's car," he explains, with a sad smile. "It felt so shitty...and Gastly knew when it died, y'know...told me. But then Gastly just kind of helped it, hovered over it, and then...it came back to life. Wasn’t even hurt. It was like nothing happened to it at all."

They've done this before? And it worked?

"So, like, I know it can work. You just have to let it work. Help us, here," Seungmin says.

You approach your body with some trepidation. You don't like looking at yourself like this. Crushed, somehow without any gore but also pointedly, unavoidably empty. You wonder if the boys cleaned up, if they-

"Like with the Weedle," he says to his Pokemon.

"Gaaaaastly."

The Ghost Pokemon nudges you, this time, toward the body. You close the gap, closer, and closer, until you're right over it, until if you take another step, you'll be standing on it, in it-

But Gastly pushes again, and you stumble into your body. Your feet sink in as you stand there, disappearing wholly and joining the form you are now to the flesh that lays there, and again, quickly, painlessly, you black out.

-----

When you open your eyes again, you're met with shouting.

"I knew it would fuckin' work!"

Hands pry you up from the floor, wrap around your back, yank you into a sitting position, and suddenly you find yourself sobbing into a scrawny shoulder, breathing in the scent of cheap body wash and dust and the same laundry detergent that Chan and Changbin and Felix and Jisung and Hyunjin all smell like.

Seungmin's arms are wrapped around you, all of his too-cool adolescent awkwardness gone, as he lets you absolutely ruin his shirt with tears, as you gasp and hiccup your terror against him, as he kneels in front of you.

You’re okay. Nothing hurts, nothing is broken, though it should be. There’s the faintest tingle under your skin, like a limb regaining circulation after it falls asleep, but you’re okay.

You're laughing sheepishly through your tears when you pull back to look at him.

"Damn," Seungmin sighs, "You owe me a life debt, now, and I'm collecting with interest."

You laugh harder.

He lets you sit there, in his space, for as long as you need. It's only another moment longer, but it means the world.

"Where did the guys go?" you ask.

"Changbin and Minho went to go get the others. To Jisung and Hyunjin, first, over in Cerulean City."

"How...how long ago did they go?"

You have to ask, because suddenly you realize you don't have a great grasp on how much time you spent upstairs. It could have been just a few moments, which is how it felt, but...

"Hours."

You wince. "No way."

"Way."

Seungmin stands, then, and goes to pull the door open.

Sunlight spills in, the first tender rays of the sunrise, and a gust of cool morning breeze. You were up there all night, and Seungmin was here, waiting.

"I am so sorry," you tell him.

"For what?"

"You waited so long...and you didn't even know if..."

"That's what friends do, asshole. I would've waited even longer," he says.

He manages to be so exceptionally kind, and such a brat all at once. The ultimate kid brother energy.

"Thanks," you say.

"Duh. C'mon, let's get out of here."

He walks out the door, and you follow.

Surprisingly, it's not like you're in a hurry to leave. You're not scared of the tower anymore, that's for sure. You feel a little pang of nostalgia, a longing for the peace of existing outside of time and physical space. But you made a promise to keep going.

Outside, the weather is gorgeous. There's not a soul around, which means you're safe for now, but it also means the others are truly long gone.

"They really left," you say.

Seungmin nods. "Told you."

"But that means they don't know."

"Know what?"

"You know. This." You gesture down at yourself, whole. Alive.

"Oh. No, no they do not."

"Seungmin, they think I'm dead."

"You were dead."

"Still. They should know," you insist.

"We'll find them later. But if they went to the water guys, then we should go find Jeongin," Seungmin decides.

"Isn't it easier to go meet the others and then-"

"No, if we get Jeongin at the same time, then we'll all be together when we meet up again," he argues.

He's not wrong, but it still feels strange, to go somewhere when the others don't know you're alive. Especially when Jeongin is none the wiser to what's happened. You'll have to be the ones to tell him about Chan...

You're saved, however, from having to fight over it, because Somin's SUV drives up to the tower.

She's not at the wheel, though. It's a man, clear through the dashboard as he parks, and there's another man in the passenger's seat.

"What the fuck?" one of them yells clearly through the open window.

"Damn," Seungmin mutters, "Hoped we'd beat the caretakers."

They park the car, and out the doors tumble three men in identical garish orange polo shirts. There's a company name emblazoned on the chest, but the letters are too small for you to make out.

"Jesus, this place is a wreck," the guy from the passenger's seat says, pushing his wild curly hair back with one hand, as if to better see the destruction wrought on the tower. "The fuck did you do?"

"We didn't," Seungmin says.

"Someone did," says the third guy, slightly smaller in build than the other two but just as pissed. "And you're the only motherfuckers here."

"Look, we really need to get going, there's no time to explain what happened, but I promise, we will help fix any damage," you say impatiently.

"Like hell, you're going anywhere!" says the driver, a well-built guy with a mustache and a remarkably strong voice.

They don't look all that formidable, despite each being probably six feet tall. In fact, they have the slightly awkward look of people who prefer to spend their time inside and not confronting strangers at the ghost tower. The driver, with the mustache, has a little pin of a Beedrill on his shirt lapel. You think you can work with this, negotiate with them.

Seungmin obviously agrees, because he says, "If you let us go without any trouble, we will come back with more people to help, and we'll pay for dinner for everyone including you."

The driver thinks for a moment, and then he nods. "Okay, deal."

Passenger's seat guy groans, long-suffering. "Arin..."

"What?! They said they'd get dinner; you want me to pass up some tasty-ass shit just cuz they're trespassing?!"

"...Yeah, that's kind of the point of being caretakers, man. We caretake."

"Dinner and dessert," Seungmin promises.

"I think they seem nice," says the third guy.

"You said the same thing about the fuckin' Tauros, and what happened? Who got trampled, Ross?" passenger's seat guy asks testily.

"You don't have to be such a party pooper, Dan," the driver, Arin, says, sing-song and annoying.

Seungmin points back over his shoulder toward the road. "So...we're just going to go..."

"If I could just have the scooter in the back of that van, that would be great," you say. "And the bag by the front seat, the-"

Dan scrutinizes you. "You promise you'll be back?"

"Pinky-promise."

"And you'll pay for food?"

"Whatever you wanna eat," you say.

"Fine, take the fuckin' scooter and go."

So that's what you do.

The three caretakers promise to park Somin's SUV at their center until they come back, whatever that means. You assume they're holding it ransom to assure that you'll come back, rather than doing a good deed. But it takes care of one problem, so you don't mind.

Jeongin, as Seungmin reminds you, is training Fire type on Cinnabar Island. Which makes your scooter a good choice, since it's portable transportation that you can take on a boat with you, if need be.

It's far, but distance means nothing to you at this point.

You just need to get him, and figure out what to do next.

----------

You've never been to a volcano before.

There's a town on Cinnabar Island, of course, but as you're approaching the towering volcanic mountain on a ferry boat, your scooter leaning against the rail and Seungmin leaning against you, it's hard to imagine that there's anything else there.

Magma flows trickle into the sea from the side you're on, sending plumes of steam into the air. People choose to live here. Like, it's voluntary. You can't even fathom it.

And Jeongin is here.

You and Seungmin have been traveling for days. It's not that long of a journey, but the first day or so after being dead, your body needed a lot more sleep than usual. Maybe something to do with the time you spent out of it. That first night, you slept nearly sixteen hours, and Seungmin ended up waking you out of worry. You're okay now, but you're hesitant to go too long without sleep and overdo it.

The two of you made it just fine, though. Driving your scooter as far as you could across the province, then taking the boat, and now disembarking in the tiny seaside town with its colorful buildings and the volcano looming large over it all.

You wheel your scooter down the gangway, as Seungmin sets out in front.

"Smooth ride," he says.

"Wasn't bad," you agree.

"Now we just gotta find the gym."

The first local you ask, however, doesn't know anything about a Pokemon gym.

The second tells you that there used to be a gym, but an eruption destroyed it about a decade ago, and it hadn't been rebuilt. That there isn't a gym at all.

"Did Jeongin make up this Cinnabar Gym and run away to the Seafoam Islands for a resort vacation or what?" Seungmin grumbles.

"I don't think he would do that. Too sweet," you say.

"That's what you think."

But the third person you ask has the answer.

The Cinnabar Gym was burned down, and has been many times. So the gym leaders just keep rebuilding it. This most recent time, during the Pokemon resurgence, it was joined into an ancient building that already existed on the plot of land: the Pokemon Mansion.

It's more information than you needed, but you thank the stranger, regardless, and head in the direction they point you.

You understand why the gym keeps getting destroyed, when you get there.

The Pokemon Mansion is right at the foot of the Cinnabar Volcano. Lumpy black cooled lava flows come right up to the back of the building, and the half-burned trunks of palm trees stand scattered among the scrubby plants and trails of lava rock.

"What a shitty idea," Seungmin says. "Building right here."

"They must have a reason. I bet the volcano was a lot farther away, before. If it keeps erupting and growing."

The building, or what remains of it, has several floors, though you can see the that topmost one is charred, as if it burnt some time ago and was never repaired.

"Do we have to go inside?" you wonder.

"I'm sure."

It's not like the doors are locked - there aren't any front doors, anymore. Lost to time, or broken, or maybe burned. So you lean your scooter against the front steps, and the two of you walk right in.

Once upon a time, this place must have been beautiful. There are antique rugs and gorgeous clawfoot chairs, wall hangings and rich paintings, all in shades of burnt red. Whoever lived here took great care to coordinate, and the people who have been here since have left it all respectfully alone.

Mostly, anyway. There are the odd sheaves of paper on the floor, as if someone was upending files folders, searching for...something.

"Upstairs or down?" you ask, as you approach a grand staircase that sweeps up, and a much smaller staircase to the side of it that leads down, down, down.

"Well," Seungmin considers. "Down is closer to where the lava is. And this is a Fire type gym."

"I think underground it's called magma."

"Oh my fucking God, don't start with me."

You smile. He's made it the whole trip without killing you or leaving because you're too embarrassing, he's not gonna crack now.

"Down it is," you say.

At the bottom of those stairs, after a short descent into the darkness, there's a set of double doors, shut tight. Statues of Pokemon line the narrow passage; a Charmeleon, you think, and a Magmar...

Seungmin glances at you, shrugs, and knocks.

You wait for a few beats. There's noise on the other side, and then the door creaks open to reveal a young-looking woman.

"Yes?"

"Our friend is training here, we need to see him," says Seungmin.

"And that would be...?"

"Jeongin?"

The woman brightens. "Yes! Come in."

Unlike all of your other friends who you've sought out, Jeongin isn't battling when you and Seungmin follow the staff trainer deeper into the craggy underground gym. He's just sitting on a bench, eating a protein bar like a dog with a hard-earned treat.

He reacts with a full-body jolt when he sees you.

"Holy shit!" he mumbles, around his snack.

"I know. She's alive," says Seungmin, mischievous.

You elbow him, and he elbows you back just as hard. The kid doesn't even know-

"What're you guys doing here?" Jeongin asks, amazed. "Time's not up, is it?"

"On training week? No. But shit's been cancelled. We gotta go home," Seungmin says.

Jeongin sighs, wolfing the last of the bar. "What happened?"

"Chan is gone."

Jeongin chokes.

You elbow Seungmin again. "Right out with it, huh? Does the word 'tact' mean anything to you?"

"What do you mean, gone?" Jeongin sputters.

"It's a long fuckin' story," Seungmin says. "But basically, he got kidnapped, he's gone. And we need to get him back. But we all gotta meet up at home first, so get your shit and let's roll."

That, you think, must be the least helpful and most audacious way to possibly tell the story.

"Chan's gone," Jeongin repeats, like he can't believe it.

"Look, I know - I think I know where he is, and how to find him. But we do have to go back to the gym to do that," you say.

"Is he in trouble?"

"Yeah. He's kidnapped," Seungmin deadpans.

"Jesus. Okay. Lemme - oh, God, I gotta pack, gimme like...twenty-five minutes," Jeongin says, hauling himself to his feet.

"I'm gonna play here for a while," Seungmin decides.

He's looking at the pools of lava across the battling floor with far too much excitement. You don't really want to bear witness to whatever is going to go on, here. There's been enough mess in your life without Seungmin and boiling-hot lava in the same room.

"Need a hand?" you ask Jeongin.

The kid shrugs. "Sure."

The room where Jeongin has been staying is tidy in an adorable way. There's clutter, stacks of paper and a little pile of laundry and even a scented candle stuck on the bedside table, but it's all cluttered neatly, as if he's organized and his organization style just happens to be chaos.

"What, have you been studying in here?" you ask, amused.

Jeongin huffs out a laugh. "Yeah, kinda."

"They made you study?"

"I thought it was weird too," he says. "But I guess there's been a lot of important stuff in the Mansion. Like, Pokemon stuff that the gym protects."

"Important stuff, huh?"

"Yeah. Like, did you know the last time the volcano erupted, it wasn't natural? Some trainer did it, by accident."

You stare at him. "A person made the volcano blow?"

"Not alone."

"You're gonna have to explain."

Jeongin's busy throwing stuff into a dusty black duffle bag as he talks, but he manages. "So, like, ten years ago or so there was a trainer who wanted to find the Legendaries. All of 'em. And one of them, Moltres, the fire one, liked to hang out here at the volcano sometimes."

The Legendary Birds. There are three kinds, if your knowledge serves you. One is Articuno. Another is Moltres.

"So, this guy was like, obsessed. He lured Moltres here and then battled it, to catch it and train, or whatever. But it was a super powerful battle and eventually all the Fire attacks set off the volcano. A lot of stuff was ruined, and people were hurt, I think. It was the first time a person or a Pokemon affected a whole volcano."

It seems pretty unbelievable, to you, until you take a second to remember that you died a couple days ago. Maybe you should give these Fire trainers the benefit of the doubt.

"Who was this guy?" you press.

Jeongin shrugs. "The story doesn't say. Just that he was some guy, dressed in all gold."

Gold.

It all circles back around, doesn't it?

You don't need to share everything with Jeongin right now, so instead, you say, "That's wild. And they just told you all this?"

He nods. "They have lots of good stuff. They taught me about Mew, like about the first Legendary? The Mythical Pokemon?"

"Yeah, I'm familiar," you say stiffly.

"How Mew is like, the DNA of all Pokemon at once and how it likes to hide for centuries and come out to play sometimes," Jeongin says. "They said there's a story that circled a couple years back that Mew was seen, and helped out a trainer, but I don't know if that's true."

"It might be."

You just might know that trainer. You almost certainly do.

"And they told me about Mewtwo."

You haven't thought about Mewtwo in a long, long time. "The other Legendary?"

"The manmade one," Jeongin confirms. "Bunch of mad scientists created a Pokemon in the lab to be, like, the strongest baddest one of all time."

"If that one guy was looking for all the Legendaries, he should have just asked your Fire buddies. They seem to know everything," you tease.

But Jeongin just grins, kind of sadly. "Why d'you think they know so much? They shared all their research with him, and he turned on them."

"Their research? They just had this stuff laying around?"

"Literally. It's called the Pokemon Mansion cuz like two hundred years ago, some Pokemon researcher lived here, and all his books and notes and stuff were just in the building for anyone to find. The Cinnabar Gym just kinda claimed them."

"Jeez," you murmur. "You picked a hell of a place to come train.

Jeongin's smile sharpens a bit, turning more genuine, showing his dimples. "I know. And they're a kickass gym, too."

"How are the Pokemon?"

"So strong, I don't even know what to do with them. Chan's gonna flip his shit."

You start at the sound of the name. Jeongin shrinks as soon as he realizes - Chan's gone.

"Sorry," Jeongin says quickly. "I-"

"It's weird for everyone," you say.

He zips up his duffle with finality, in lieu of answering that. "I'm ready."

"Let's go."

Seungmin is still alive and unburnt when you get back out to the gym proper, and so is everyone else, so you consider that a success.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Ready," Jeongin confirms.

"I called ahead and asked the guys to meet us back home," Seungmin says.

"What'd you tell them?" you ask, wary.

"That I got Jeongin and we're coming back to the gym."

"Just that?"

"Why would I say anything else?"

He's not saying it in front of Jeongin, because no one's told Jeongin yet, but that means Seungmin didn't tell the others that you're alive. It's fitting that Seungmin is with you, because if you show up at that gym, they're gonna think you're a ghost.

-----

"Hey Seungmin?" you ask, into the dark.

The three of you had booked onto the very last ferry off the island, and night has long since fallen. It's a few hours' voyage, and since the boat isn't very full, it only makes sense to get comfortable. You're all laying on the deck in a little row, you and then Jeongin and then Seungmin, looking up at the clear mid-ocean sky. No staff have been around to tell you to stand up or get out of the way, so you're content to take the trip laying down.

"Yeah?" he answers.

"Why'd you make me come all the way out here?"

"Hey!" says Jeongin, putting on a big show of offense. "Am I not worth it?"

"You are," you assure him.

Seungmin is quiet for a moment.

"Well?" you prod.

"Didn't it get you out of your head?" he asks.

"It did."

"And didn't you enjoy getting to see somewhere new? Getting to see your favorite littlest Fire trainer ever?"

"I'm taller than you," Jeongin deadpans.

"It was fun," you say.

"Then isn't that enough?" Seungmin asks.

He's right. He needs to stop being right. "Yeah."

"Damn right. Be grateful."

You'll never tell him, because he'd be unbearable about it, but you are.

#pokemon au 😈#stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #kard fanfic #kard fanfiction #kard imagines #kard scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kim seungmin fanfic #kim seungmin fanfiction

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random0lover · 1 year

Text

Requests Are Open!!

For the love of god please put your age in your bio or in a pinned post. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED IF I CANT TELL HOW OLD YOU ARE. Also in the end of it all, you are responsible for your own media consumption. If you decide to go around warnings that is your own choice. Thank you.💞 Also, my blog is a safe space! If anyone need’s to vent or just wants someone to talk to my dm’s are always open. <3

----Navigation---

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} Things About Me

- I’m 19

- She/Her

- I sometimes go by Kat (open to nicknames tbh)

- I’m short enough that I have to climb onto counters to reach the top shelf (fml)

- Scorpio

- INFJ

- if I’m outside you’ll often find me staring at the sky whether it’s day or night

- I mainly write for fun but would love to maybe pursue it as a career one day

- I’m happiest when it’s raining outside and I can just curl up with a good book with a cup of hot chocolate or coffee <3

- I’m part of multiple fandoms so you’ll find reblogs (and maybe a few of my own writings) of all sorts here :)

- If you decide to follow me I would greatly appreciate if in your bio it could indicate that you’re over the age of 18. Whether it’s a simple 18+ or even if it says MDNI (minors do not interact)

Find info about my writing by clicking ‘keep reading’ :)

Also here are the tags I use if you’d like to block any (I reblog a lot and I know that annoys some people)

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#random0lover smut reblog

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#random0lover rambles ♡

} Masterlist

Key for works

Fluff = ✨

Light Smut = ☀️

Smut = 🔥

Smut with hard kinks = 🔥💥

This includes CNC (CONSENSUAL non-consent), intense bondage, knife play, gun play, pet play, intense impact play, fear play. I think that’s it but more may be added.

Angst = 🌪️

No Comfort = 🥀

Fem!reader = 🌩️

GN!reader = 🌨️

AFAB!reader = ❄️

No Reader Insert = 🍄

• Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

🌩️☀️✨] A Day for First’s and Adding A Second

- Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x wife fem!reader, slight NSFW, established relationship, pregnancy mentioned, you and Simon have a son, fluff

🌨️🌪️✨] TF141 x gn!reader That Was a Military Kid

-Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x GN!reader, SFW, angst, fluff, reader is mean and dealing with a lot emotionally, talk of parental death, established relationship, Simon is understanding and caring

-mini series-🌪️🥀🌨️] Open Wounds and War Paint

- Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x GN!reader, SFW, Angst/No Comfort, blood, reader death(?)

-part 2- 🌪️🥀🌨️] Her Past is Their torture

- Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x GN!reader, SFW, Angst/No Comfort (yet), nothing to serious for this part but make sure to read warnings

• Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish

❄️✨] Johnny Mactavish Head Canon’s - dad edition (kinda)

- John ‘soap’ Mactavish x afab!reader, SFW, marriage, pregnancy, fluff

🌨️✨] Hot Chocolate & Hoodies

- John ‘Soap’ Mactavish x GN!reader, SFW, Fluff

•Captain John Price

❄️✨]John Price Head Canon’s - dad edition (kinda)

-John Price x afab!reader, SFW, marriage, pregnancy, fluff

🌨️✨]Captain John Price Head Canon’s- SO that has Tourette’s Syndrome

-John Price x GN!reader, SFW, reader has Tourette’s Syndrome, John is supportive, fluff

🌨️🌪️✨]TF141 x gn!reader That Was a Military Kid

-John Price x GN!reader, SFW, angst, comfort, reader is emotionally dealing with a lot, established relationship, John’s a sweetheart, talk of parental death

• Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

-empty

•König

-empty

•Everyone

🍄✨]Bar/pub owners!141, Los Vaqueros, König, and Kate Laswell Head Canon’s

-SFW, fluff, alcohol mentioned, drunk people mentioned, harassment mentioned, ghostsoap mentioned one time, blood mentioned once

} Random One-Shots

These will be anywhere between 1,000 to 1,500 words

🔥🌨️] “What do you want?”

-Male!dom x GN!reader, Smut, NSFW

} Things I absolutely refuse to write

Be aware of clicking the words in purple. The links lead to possibly NSFW things or topics that may be triggering for some.

- Watersports (what is this?) (not judging just not my thing)

- Pedophilia 😡

- Scatophilia (what is this?) (not judging just not my thing)

-Cannibalism (only time you would probably ever see this is if I’m writing an apocalypse fic but it would not be an important part of it)

-anything involving dead bodies or animals (I mean this in a sexual manner (like kinks people have) as this is absolutely disgusting and horrible)

} Things I’m not exactly comfortable writing

This is not to offend anyone as I would never judge anyone for their kinks! This is me just trying to set some personal boundaries <3

- age play

I have nothing against age play (as long as everyone is playing a legal age). I went through some childhood trauma that makes writing it hard and I would prefer not to write it for my own mental health <3

-CBT (what is this?)

Once again nothing against anyone that enjoys this! It’s just really not my cup of tea and I don’t want to offend anyone or spread any misinformation by writing it incorrectly!

-Tentacles

I myself have read a few fics like this but I don’t ever really see myself writing it. I don’t frequent in erotica like that so I really wouldn’t know what the hell I would be doing 😅

-Electro stimulation (what is this?)

Honestly never heard of it until I started looking into different kind of kinks. It’s definitely an interesting one but not something I could see myself writing.

} A Small Warning

I reblog and not very often but sometimes vent about sensitive topics. This can range from SA (what is this?), Abuse may come up at times (mainly mental and emotional), Childhood Trauma can often come up even if I do not go into detail, and things that probably piss me off or make me angry.

That’s all for now but more may be added as time goes on! If you read all that thank you so much <3

Requests are open

Please read the things above before sending in a request. Thanks my love 💕

#random0lover things about me #random0lover my writing #random0lover masterlist

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makur0 · 2 years

Text

Terminate him.

synopsis — they were worried that you would never be the same after... that, especially since you were so close to offing yourself. but you manage to come back, as bold as ever. they miss your old self though. [platonic! five eccentrics x amab! reader] PART TWO

content warnings — sfw, small angst, df! madara + kohaku, oc inserts, possibly innacurate lore

author’s note — i have risen!! also part three is guaranteed, i want to finish this (macabre chronicles? never heard of her)

word count — 1876

(one - two - three)

“IBARA-HAN HAS ANOTHER MISSION FOR US.”

Madara Mikejiima looked up from his magazine, curious green eyes greeting Kohaku Oukawa as he walked into the Double Face practice room. “Hm?”

The younger didn’t look amused, in fact displeased as he threw the folder onto Madara’s lap. “A new unit in RythLin is going to be introduced tomorrow night?”

“Already-?” The brunette bit off, heaving a sigh. “Ah, Saegusa. Hm…?”

“I’ve never heard of these people,” Kohaku said, taking a seat next to his leader. “But apparently they’re allied with the Gatekeeper, allegedly one of the Godfather’s men.”

“Godfather, huh,” He hummed, his eyes narrowing. “Hisui- Furoido… yeah, never heard of th–!?”

Madara’s grip tightened substantially, easily ripping one of the documents in his clenched fist. Kohaku blinked, surprised at his sudden behavior. “Madara-han?”

You’re kidding…

“A-ah…” He forced a smile, his attempt at reassuring the younger idol turning futile. “Everything’s fine, Kohaku-san! Nothing to worry about!”

“Bullshit,” Kohaku cursed, catching Madara off guard. “It’s the third guy ain’t it. [name].”

“...”

He sighed. “Yeah, him. He’s from Yumenosaki… at least, he was. Have ya ever heard of the Oddballs?”

Kohaku let out a noise. “Mmm, yeah, from Love-han. They were like weird amazing idols, right?”

Madara nodded. “Yup. [name] was a part of them, but definitely the most inferior one. But why is he back…?”

He shook that thought off, flipping through the other documents. “Caerula… hmm. How were they able to get into the strongest agency undercover? Doesn’t fall into line.”

“That’s why Vice Prez-han wants us to take a look at it,” Kohaku said. “He said the same thing. We also need to be careful though, because I don’t think Hasumi-han or Rei-han know about this…”

They don’t? Madara thought, alarms going off in his head. “Well, this is not good.”

“It isn’t,” Kohaku agreed immediately. “I know little about these people, but judging from the simple background they’re dangerous. I mean, look at Crazy:B. We had the ‘help’ of Ibara-han, but we barely survived. Look at Caerula, they’re already sold out for their debut Live tomorrow.”

“We’ll go to their Live then,” Madara decided. “We’ll gather more information.”

The pink-haired male shrugged. “Sounds reasonable.”

—

“Everything is going according to plan, Boss.”

A slouched over Furoido crept out of the shadows, taking his place next to the well-mannered Hisui. Behind them you were sitting in a lounge chair scrolling through your phone casually. At his report your eyes shot up, a curious glint in them.

A ghost of a smile swept across your face, standing up and walking in between the other two members. “Good, very good… are they seated near each other?”

“Near enough to converse, but far enough to not realize their position yet,” Hisui bowed slightly. “And of course, seated near the front so you can watch their expressions.”

“Excellent.” You threaded your fingers together, doing a final check in the closest mirror. A confident, coy face stared back at you, eyes cold and calculating.

You mentally chuckled. The scared innocent expression seemed like it was worn eons ago.

“[name],” One of the stage crew members walked up to the trio. “You’re up in a minute.”

“Thank you,” You waved a hand dismissively. “Tell everyone to get into their positions. I want this Live to be perfect.”

Furoido whistled, giving you an impressed glance. “Geez, what did it take, four months for us to get up to this? Yer really dedicated, aren’tcha.”

“Of course I am,” You responded indifferently, messing with your cuffs boredly. “This is a chance of a lifetime for me. From this point on I’m going to shoot down every single one of them.”

Sighing, you stepped up into the wing. “It’s just a matter of time before I’m ruling Ensemble Square.”

You scanned the crowd, your heart jumping a bit at the sight of a few certain faces before shoving it down with a scoff. As you continued, you noticed two people standing in the corner, the shadows enveloping them.

Double Face… you narrowed your eyes into slits. Well, this makes it hard. No matter.

The stage crew leader shot you a look and you nodded slightly, straightening your tie and finally stepping out onto the stage, submerged in an aqua light.

Cheers flowed out of the crowd, greeting the new face. You merely smiled and waved back at them, “Hello, Hello everyone~”

You threw your arms open, making the audience roar out. “Thank you for opening the doors for us! From the bottom of my heart I will remember your gratitude and generosity towards us, Caerula.”

As you bowed deeply, you snuck a glance at the five. Hmm. It seems Sakuma has recognized me already.

The said male looked as pale as ever, his mouth open as his red eyes looked shocked and horrified. Kanata and Wataru had found each other and were sitting next to each other, still naive to the fact that in front of them was an old ‘friend’. Natsume had his eyebrows furrowed, staring you down, and of course Shu was working on some sewing in his lap.

“Let us perform for you,” You continued, standing straight again. “Before we properly introduce ourselves.

“Enjoy~”

And learn of the new danger to you all.

—

“How will we greet [name] when he comes back?”

The… Five Eccentrics sat with each other in an empty classroom, well after school hours. Shu scoffed half-heartedly at Wataru’s question, rolling his eyes.

“Bold of you to assume he will come back,” he hissed, masking the pain in his voice. Natsume bristled at his tone but Wataru laid a hand on his shoulder, calming him down.

“Itsuki is ‘right’ though,” Kanata mumbled, his hair still dripping wet, the droplets mixing with his dry tears. “I don’t think he ever ‘will’.”

“We can at least hope,” Rei reasoned, turning back to Wataru. “So why don’t we think about that question?”

“Exactly!” The said male laughed out, clapping his hands together in an attempt to raise the atmosphere of the room. “Hmm~ so I was thinking that I would dedicate a play just for him! To make him feel loved!”

“DramatizING your apology foR him instead of verbalizing it directLY to him is rude, SenPAI,” Natsume shook his head. “I know it’s in your forTE, but think about [namE].”

“I say strap him against the wall and make him apologize to us for making us so worried!” Shu snapped. “What on earth was he thinking of jumping, non!”

“That’s rather ‘harsh’, Itsuki.”

“...”

It was a sort of joke back then, to take our mind off of him to save ourselves.

I never really thought that we would see him again.

Rei couldn’t take his eyes off of your figure, still trying to absorb all this information. Was that really you? You looked so different… so cold. Who were those two people? They rubbed him the wrong way…

“Sakuma.” The said male turned his head slightly, Shu appearing in his peripheral vision. Without another word he stood up from his seat, following the other as he shivered under your piercing gaze.

All five of them were rounded up and heading for the exit, possibly to talk, but were stopped by two familiars: Madara and Kohaku.

“Can’t you see that we’re trying to leave?” Shu said in a harsh whisper, still obviously ruffled. “Let us go!”

“We want to talk with you,” Kohaku said firmly, staring at him right in the eye. “About… them.”

“I don’t want to,” Rei heard Natsume whisper, then Wataru comforting him.

“...If you insist,” The former said slowly. “But I do apologize that we aren’t at our best right now.”

“I understand,” Madara cut in, his usual smile gone and replaced with a serious look. “But this is important for our new job.”

The group left the auditorium, shutting the door behind them as the crowd erupted into cheers as Caerula wrapped up their performance. Madara led them into a private door, making sure to lock the door behind them as everybody got settled.

Natsume ran into one of the corners, facing his back towards everybody as he furiously tried to hold back tears. Kanata went to comfort the younger idol but relented at Wataru’s glance.

“First things first, [name]’s working with the Gatekeeper,” Kohaku said, ignoring Madara. “What? They’re our best bet for information.”

The brown-haired male paused, then sighed. “I guess. But do you think that they’ll know who that is?”

“He was one of the Godfather’s followers and trustees,” Kohaku rushed, turning back to Rei. “And works in the SS Administration Committee. We don’t know much about him ourselves, but he’s dangerous.”

“Interesting…” Wataru mused. “He must have been behind that Akehoshi scandal last winter, no?”

I forgot about that.

“Our question is to you, did he know about the Gatekeeper when you guys were still…” Madara faltered. “Close? I didn’t really know [name] back then…”

Shu and Rei shared a look. “Close is a stretch. Yes, we did talk to him once and a while but he was still very closed off. But I wouldn’t think he knew the Gatekeeper at that time.”

“It could be those two awful-looking members with [name],” Shu stated, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “They’re so… unsettling. It’s terrible.”

“We don’t have much background about them too,” Kohaku sighed in defeat. “So [name] is our best bet. But if they’re as bad as you think, that’s definitely not good for us.”

“The role of Double Face is to terminate bad people,” Rei suddenly said, catching everybody’s attention. “Does that mean you’ll terminate Caerula?”

“Yes—”

“Then I won’t give you any information,” He coldly said, standing up. Wataru, shocked, stood up along with him but the former waved him off. “As much as he may be doing something to harm the Square, which is not yet confirmed, I will not give you anything to harm [name]. He’s been through enough.”

“If he is a possible threat to the idols,” Kohaku snapped back, his gaze as fierce as ever to the older. “Then I will get rid of him, no matter how broken the person is.”

Red clashed purple, and the two stared down at each other before Madara broke in, trying to laugh it off. “Now now, don’t get too riled up… anywho—”

A small click was heard at the door, and the brunet alarmingly snapped his head to the door, as well as everybody else. As the door slowly opened a familiar head popped in.

It was Hisui, one of [name]’s members. His unsettling eyes looked up at the group before clicking his tongue.

“Oh, I deeply apologize,” He stepped out of the doorframe, bowing gently. Despite not standing up straight he was indeed tall, possibly taller than Madara. “I did not know that you lot were in here.”

“It’s fine…” Rei tried, clenching his jaw. “A… rather good performance you guys put up.”

“I gladly accept the compliment,” Hisui flashed him a toothy smile, creeping him out. “Now I must go. Forgive me once again for intruding.”

And he left, closing the door behind him.

“Madara-han…?”

“I locked that door, I did,” He suddenly lashed out, looking like a cornered animal. “How did he get in so smoothly? How come I didn’t sense him?

…They’re more dangerous than we thought.

TAGLIST: @procrastination-is-my-profession @5ugarcan3 @ibaraluvr

#part two #ensemble stars #enstars #kanata shinkai #rei sakuma #wataru hibiki #shu itsuki #natsume sakasaki #five eccentrics #def a part three coming out

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againstacecilia · 2 years

Text

Family

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Finn

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: Teen and up. Nothing explicit (BUT MY BLOG IS 18+)

Warnings: Mention that Poe has nightmares/bad dreams, implied burnout, other than that pretty fluffy. 🥰

Summary: The war is over, but the cleanup will take years. What's the next adventure for Finn and Poe?

A/N: This is the first time I've tried writing a non-reader-insert fic, but after a suggestion from the wonderful @arandomnerdsblog578 I just had to give this a try. I hope you like it, friend, since all the credit for this should absolutely go to you! 💖 Asks are always open for suggestions and whenever folks wanna drop in! 💖🥰

After years of war and conditioning for the fight, the still of peace made Poe antsy. He was constantly waking up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and chest heaving from nightmares and dreams of battles that were long over. In those moments, Finn would gently soothe Poe’s fears with muted words and gentle kisses. It was always the reminder Poe needed that he was here, now, with someone who not only sympathized but understood what it was like in his head. It was hard to let the ghosts linger when Finn’s strong hands were there to shoo them away.

They weren’t the only ones scarred by the war that had ravaged the Galaxy. Everywhere they went, helping Rey rebuild cities and towns and return balance where they could, the signs of loss were strong. Elegant buildings reduced to rubble, holes in star maps where entire planets used to be, and children with empty eyes staring up at them under the protection of older siblings and cousins and other kids with no families of their own; the world resting on their small shoulders far too early. None of them could stomach the sight of these horrors, but they used the churning in their stomachs as motivation to help as many as they could.

One morning on whatever planet they were all on this week (they all run together after a while), Poe comes from the cockpit on the Falcon and leans against the back of the couch where Finn sits, staring at the Dejarik board. “Scootch,” the pilot says after a moment, rousing Finn from his thoughts.

“Sorry,” Finn mutters, sliding down the seat and making room for Poe.

“Got something on your mind?”

Finn shakes his head, “Always, but nothing new.” He looks up at Poe, exhaustion etched across his normally stoic face. “Are we really making a difference?”

“Of course we are.” Poe rests a hand on Finn’s shoulder before slowly grazing his touch down his arm. His eyes soften as he interlaces his fingers with Finn’s. “It may not seem like it now with all the moving and jumping from place to place, but you’ve seen the look on peoples’ faces when we show up!” He smiles and winks roguishly, “We’re heroes.”

Finn laughs softly and squeezes Poe’s hand before letting go and running a hand over his face with a sigh. “I guess you’re right. We just always have to leave before we can see how things play out.”

“We’ll start seeing it,” Poe leans over and kisses Finn on the cheek before climbing out of the booth, “You just gotta keep holding out hope.”

- - -

A decision is made along the tour of the Outer Rim to make a stop on Yavin-4, Poe’s homeworld. The excitement is palpable as Poe tells Finn and Rey stories about his childhood.

“It was wild,” he says to the crew, everyone gathered in the cockpit as he prepares to drop out of hyperspace, “Until you’ve had to run from a pack of Stentaril while swinging from tree to tree in the jungle, you haven’t fully experienced Yavin-4.”

“I think I’ll be fine with the tourist experience,” Rey laughs from the co-pilot’s chair, Finn joining along behind them.

“Fine, your loss!” Poe grins, flipping a couple of switches. “Alright, dropping out of hyperspace in 3, 2, 1…”

The streaks of white and blue slam into place as stars and Yavin-4 materialize in front of them. Huge swaths of green cover the planet, deep blue oceans surrounding continents covered in lush jungles. Poe navigates the Falcon into the designated landing pad and the crew prepares themselves for the greeting party that accompanies every new town.

- - -

Rooms are allocated for everyone after a day of helping rebuild, clearing space for new facilities, and general spirit-lifiting. Finn falls into bed almost immediately before Poe gently encourages him to actually get into his pyjamas and drink at least one glass of water after the strains of the day.

“I know, I know,” Poe urges the sleepy general, “We can get in bed right after but you gotta take care of yourself.”

With a reluctant goan, Finn takes the glass and drains it, handing it back and flopping onto the bed. “There, you happy?”

“Very,” Poe smiles and changes into his own sleep clothes before climbing in after Finn. Wrapping him in his arms, Poe rubs delicate circles into the knot that seems to be ever present in Finn’s shoulder. “You did great today.”

“Thanks…” Finn’s voice trails off. “Poe, did you see that little girl at the school? The one with the braids?”

Poe nods, “She was a sweetheart.”

“Both her parents died in the last First Order raid here.”

Sad silence washes over both of them, BB-8 chirping quietly across the room.

“Yeah, buddy,” Poe mutters, “She’s alone.”

After a heartbeat, Finn whispers, “She doesn’t have to be…”

“What do you mean?” Poe pulls away just far enough to look down into Finn’s deep eyes.

“What if… What if we took her in? She has no family, and there’s something about her… I think she might be Force Sensitive like me.”

Poe pulls Finn closer, placing a kiss or two to the top of his head. “Kids need stability, Finn, we don’t really have that right now.”

“But neither does she. Not really. She told me this is the 6th family she’s been placed with this year. She settles down for long enough to be pulled away or rehomed, we could give her that family.” Finn pulls away and sits up, looking down at Poe laid out beside him. “I didn’t know what family was until you and Rey came along. I can’t imagine denying someone who is as lost as I was this kind of love.”

Finn cups Poe’s jaw and Poe’s eyes drift shut, savoring the contact. He opens his eyes again and meets Finn’s gaze. “This is what you want?” “Yes,” Finn replies immediately. Poe can see the fire lighting in Finn’s eyes and the sight lifts something Poe didn’t realize was weighing on him. It had been months since he’d seen that look of determination on the face of the man he loves so much.

“Okay.”

“Really?” Finn’s voice has an edge of surprise. “I thought I’d have to do more convincing.”

“I mean, if you had something specific in mind,” Poe teases, eyebrows wiggling up at Finn.

Finn laughs, pinching Poe’s chin before pulling his hand away. “Calm down, flyboy.”

Nipping at Finn’s fingers as they leave his skin, Poe says, “We’ll have to talk to Rey and Chewy first-”

BB-8 pipes up, rolling over to the edge of the bed and beeping wildly. Both the men laugh heartily. “You didn’t let me finish, BB-8, I had to save the best for last. What do you think, buddy? Should we add another misfit to our group?”

Wiggling and beeping excitedly, the droid spins around the room. “Looks like we’ve got at least one yes,” Finn laughs. Joy radiates off of him in a way that lights something warm in Poe’s chest.

“Let’s talk to the others in the morning and then we’ll go talk to the person coordinating the girl’s care. What was her name, again?”

“Tala.”

- - -

One year later, Poe sits in the cockpit of the Millenium Flacon. A little girl with braids sits on his lap. “Alright, so this switch right here is to start up the electrical portions of the ship. These two right here,” he points to another set of twin switches, “they prime the engines. We can’t start her up cold, learned that one the hard way.”

Tala giggles and points to a glowing button on the far side of the console, “What’s this one do, Papa?”

“That one is for the auto pilot, for when Papa need a break and Daddy doesn’t feel like flying.”

“So the ship can fly itself?”

“Yeah, good job! Although we don’t use it much, it’s a little buggy since my stint at lightspeed skipping.”

On silent feet, Finn pads up the hall and hovers just outside the open door to the cockpit. A smile tugs at his lips as he listens to Poe teach Tala about the ship.

“How do you know all of this stuff?” Tala asks, voice full of awe.

“I’ve been flying since I was younger than you, little one.” Poe kisses the top of Tala’s head. “My mom taught me.”

“What was she like?” Tala asks. Finn’s heart breaks at the innocent question and he leans around the corner to see how Poe responds.

“She was so cool,” Poe says. “She was a pilot like me, and fought for the Republic a long time ago. She was brave, and smart, and very witty. She died when I was young.”

“I’m sorry, Papa,” Tala turns and hugs him tight. He returns the embrace and they sit like that for a moment before Tala pulls away. “Can I be a pilot like you and your mommy?”

“You’d be an amazing pilot, baby.” Finn reveals himself and sits next to his family in the co-pilot chair. “You might have to get a little bigger first, though.”

“Hey, I’m big enough!” Tala pouts, crossing her arms across her little chest. “I can reach all the buttons and the controls and…” She turns back to Poe and whispers something in his ear.

“Levers, baby.”

“And I can reach the levers,” she finishes proudly.

Poe and Finn laugh and Poe tickles Tala with the end of one of her braids. “That’s true, but you have a lot to learn, first.”

“And we’ve got time to teach it all to you,” Finn adds, standing and leaning over to kiss the top of Tala’s head.

Poe locks eyes with Finn as he does, “Yeah, we do.”

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