#LIKE JUST CANNOT CONTROL HIS EYES AT ALL AND ends up making his threats to Hannibal’s crotch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

azsazz · 1 year

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Better Men Have Hit Their Knees and Bigger Men Have Died

Cassian x Reader

Summary: They say all is fair in love and war.

Warnings: Smut, hate-fucking.

Word Count: 5,313

Notes: I've said it once and I'll say it again. I think I'm in love with this Cassian.

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“I’ll wrestle you to your fucking knees if you don’t do it yourself.” Cassian’s ire slides up your spine like a blade straight from the forge, “So why don’t you save us both the time and get down.”

Your glare does nothing to deter the path of his lust-filled gaze, drinking in your revealing dress, the onyx ink adorning your bare skin from bargains made throughout your years, the sweep of coal around your eyes, covering only the most intimate parts of you.

Except for the one buried deep within your soul, your innermost feelings, he’s attuned to. All because of that damned mating bond.

You cannot stand the male looking down at you. That spark in his eyes, the demands from those lips, curled into a cruel smile at the flare of anger he feels from you, all sharp teeth and drunk on lust. His stare is just as cutting, and you can hardly tell if he hates the silvery silk you’re cloaked in, like moonlight dripping off your skin, or if the dislike is simply directed at your entire being.

Either way, you don’t have time. The both of you are supposed to be joining the others in Rhysand’s office for a final walkthrough of the plan before heading into the Hewn City for the night, one full of debauchery and putting on a show for the citizens that think you’re nothing more than a crony for a single-minded High Lord.

But Cassian had caught you in the hallway and forced you back into your room, cock hard and demanding you get on your knees for him. It was a thing that you don’t remember having started, as the both of you held a strong dislike towards each other for years, since Rhysand had brought you in to give a fresh stance on warfare. But lust had licked up your spine at his actions nonetheless. Damn that unaccepted bond purring in your chest, reacting to him in every way, betraying you to your core.

Rhysand didn’t think that Cassian would react with such abhorrence to the presence of another well trained general, especially a female. It wasn’t like he had brought you in to replace the warlord, although, from hearing some of his strategies, you thought you might’ve been brought in to do exactly that.

You size him up, as you always do, and his hazel eyes flicker at the challenge. Sparring with him always ended with both of you torn and bloody, neither of you willing to submit to the other. It carried on into the bedroom as well, fighting for control in the throes of lust, your unmated bonds thrumming in your chests, always reaching out for one another.

And yet neither of you had denied it, though the threat always lingered, both of you teetering on the edge of declining the other when irritated too much. But that itch was constant, never fulfilled, urging you to react.

You open your mouth to snap back at him, a nasty retort on the tip of your tongue, but he’s quick – hundreds of years of Illyrian training under his belt had made him so. He grips your chin roughly, the bite of his fingers pressing into the hinge of your jaw makes your cunt clench, even as you glare up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he scolds, like he knows exactly what you had planned on spewing. The fucking smirk on his face tells you that the only thing you’ll be spitting on is his cock, whenever he demands it. The steely, commanding look in his eyes makes a shiver crawl up your spine and your fists curl into the smooth fabric of your dress. “No talking.”

And Mother, do you want to speak just to piss him off. You know what will happen if you do, you’ve tried it on many occasions, testing his limits, because there was no way in hell that you were going to take his demands as easily as one of his mediocrely trained soldiers, not when the both of you so openly disliked each other.

But you’re already running late. You need to be downstairs soon for the briefing and if you open your mouth now he won’t let you cum. So instead, you bite your tongue to the brink of splitting it open, and sink to your knees before Cassian.

His cock twitches in his pants and he nearly groans at the sight of you, the harsh glare you’re sending up at him, your chin trapped in his hold. If he presses just a little firmer those pretty pink lips will pop right open for him–

Cassian works his belt loose with one hand, the other holding onto you like a vice. You don’t move, don’t dare to help him with his leathers. You so achingly want to watch his cock spring from confinement when he shoves them over the cutting muscles of his hips, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

You settle for watching it from the corner of your eyes, so close that his cock nearly hits you in the face.

You can feel the warmth radiating from his massive length and your mouth waters, remembering the last time you’d had that heavy heat between your lips. You swear he was Cauldron blessed.

He’s ready as ever, precum beading at the tip as he strokes himself once, twice, pressing the head of his cock against your mouth, smearing the milky bead across your lips. You take a deep inhale of the heady scent of him, but it only spikes your arousal. Cassian’s cock twitches at the barely there feeling, an unconscious reaction to the mating bond festering beneath his skin.

You force nonchalance and hatred with every fiber of your being, staring up at him in defiance. Later, you will get your revenge, riding him until the sun wakes and not letting him cum until he forces you into the mattress and uses you like you’re nothing but a whore. You can picture the way his large hands will manhandle you, folding you into tight shapes for him as he pounds into your cunt with fervor, like a drowning man, spewing vitriol like they’re confessions of love.

A raised eyebrow, your way of asking, ‘Any more demands? Or can we get this started?’

Cassian’s grin turns feral, his fingers pinching open your jaw while his free hand coils your hair around into a tight fist.

“No gagging, sweetheart.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You’re eager to play tonight, riled from the time spent with Cassian’s cock in your mouth, stretching your throat wide enough to take his entire length, your hair pulled into his large fist as he shoved your head closer to his body until your nose met the coarse hairs above his cock.

He held you there and you reveled in the burn. There was nothing gentle about him having full control of you, and the lick of lust you’d let slip between the two of you only made his free hand slide down, clamping at your soft neck where he could feel himself, your throat bulging around his girth.

If you had more time he would have stripped you bare and lifted your cunt to his mouth to devour the wetness dripping from your folds. He was perhaps the most excited down there, and it was the only time where you’d let him dominate you, drawing orgasm after orgasm from you until your thighs quaked, breathing so ragged you couldn’t argue with him, hands holding so tightly to his hair he thought you might rip it clean from his scalp.

He’d cum so far down your throat you could hardly feel the hot spurts as he released. You’d shoved at his hips in desperation, wanting to taste his familiar musk. By the end of it you’d had spit and cum dripping from your chin to the milky skin between your breasts the moonlit silk of your dress left bare.

You wanted to bathe in it, wear it proud like any battle scar, but you shoved those thoughts so deeply inside of you where his prying bond wasn’t able to reach. Instead, you sent him the ice cold hatred you felt anytime someone compared his strategies to yours. You honed in on that feeling and held on tight.

At least the material of your dress hadn’t been stained, and you’d made a valiant attempt at fixing your hair before you showed up to the meeting room with your comrades.

If any of them noticed anything off about you, they knew better than to speak.

Now, you’re prowling the large ballroom after having received a nod from your High Lord to lure and pry for information by any means necessary. Cassian preferred brute force and Azriel tended to seek information with his blades, while you used a different approach, one that might even work better than bloodshed and torture.

There’s nothing more threatening to a male than a female’s body.

The music playing throughout the hall is sensual in itself, the fast-paced sounds flowing throughout the room in a lustful wave. The sultry female voice harmonizes perfectly with her male counterpart, and the song sounds like it’s own mixture of lewd moans and words, the air hot and serenading the partygoers like sirens.

You’ve wanted nothing more than to press your body up against someone’s, and after having downed a few glasses of wine, that is exactly what you plan on doing.

Your eyes catch on a tall male then, your first victim. Rhysand had briefed you and the other members of the Inner Circle on him, Rhodes. His body is lean with muscle, skin a pretty pale blue that would draw the eye of anyone in the room. His caramel gaze scans the room as he speaks to a fellow warrior, an empty rock glass hanging lazily at his side. He has a strong nose and matching scars mirrored across both cheeks that somehow only exaggerates his rugged beauty. He’s one of Beron’s highest appointed commanders, and even you cannot deny his gorgeous features.

Slinking through the crowd to him is easy, and drawing him away from the male before him easier, drawing him deep into the crowd of writhing bodies with the promise of entertainment on your curved lips.

Oh, these generals of war and how they like to play.

Dancers clear from your path with scowls, some spitting insults at you as you drag their general through the hall with a grin, like you’ve won a luxurious prize. You don’t flinch or cringe away from them, only smile and swing your hand with the commanders to emphasize and flaunt what you’ve got.

You find a spot in the middle of the floor, where Rhysand and Feyre can both see you from the dais, where everyone has the perfect view of you and your prey, the scalding flash locking your spine in place tells you so.

You ignore the feeling, not letting your act falter as you spin to a stop before him. The blue-skinned fae doesn’t stop with you though, his large stride eats the last step separating you, forcing all of the air between you to rush away until his body is flush against yours. You have his full attention.

A playful smirk graces your lips as you stare up at him, fingers already reaching up, grazing across his dark tunic to wrap around his neck. His hands slide around your waist, gentlemanly for now. It’s a pleasing surprise, knowing how the males of the Hewn City actually are.

You find yourself falling into an easy rhythm with Rhodes, and your swaying quickly turns to writhing, grinding against him as his hands pull you desperately into his body at the command of the sinful music. You nearly lose your motive when you meet his butterscotch eyes, drinking in every movement you make.

You can feel his interest against your hip.

Rhodes curls downwards, so tall that you wonder if his spine hurts just a little, as he dips down to meet your gaze more fully, a question in his eyes.

“You think you can have me?” you purr, a wicked smile gracing your lips as you trail a metallic dipped fingernail down the exposed blue of his chest. The effects of the wine have you buzzing, but you know better than to give and not receive payment for your efforts. “You know that there’s always a price to pay, don’t you, Rhodes?”

His burned buttery eyes flash with irritation and his grip on your hips tighten, a clear sign of his frustration. You can see the battle behind his heated gaze, how badly he wants you, what information he’s willing to give you in exchange for a taste.

The thunderous music peaks, crashing into a crescendo that makes you shiver as a second body closes in on you from behind, pressing flush against you. Your bond purrs in your chest but it could be the buzz from the wine as you arch backwards into the warmth, grinding into him as your head tilts back to lean against the wall of a male who’s trapped you between him and Rhodes, eyes shut in bliss and mouth open in a pleasured exhale.

The male behind you dips his head toward your ear and you can’t help but to tilt your head, leaning it against his temple as he speaks.

He chuckles, and Cassian’s breathy and hot words send shivers up your spine. “Oh, you’ll fuck anything, won’t you, sweetheart?”

At the sound of his voice your heart stops and your eyes snap open, locking directly on Rhodes’, who’s now looking down at you like you’re some sort of festering wound. He releases your hips immediately and he slinks back into the crowd on a jarring note from the violin, chin tilted high and glaring down at anyone who looks his way. Even he knows better than to fuck with one of the High Lords companions.

The shock must still be on your face when you turn around because Cassian’s shit-eating grin only widens before he’s taking your wrist in a firm grip and leading you from the dancefloor.

You want to refuse, but the bond in your chest is aching at you not to, to follow him even though you’re angrier than the Mother. He’s ruined your entire scheme.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you spit once he’s dragged you from the party, putting a room between you and the debauchery that’s happening in the ballroom, music softening through the closed door.

Cassian spins on his heel, shoving you right up into the wooden frame. It’s too dark to read the look on his face but his eyes glimmer in the night and his wings pull up high. You can make out the shapes of his claws forming a taunting halo above his head.

His hands are everywhere all at once, pulling at the ties of your dress to release it from your body that’s already curving into his eager touch. The darkness chills your skin as the fabric melts to the ground and your breath is a gasp as Cassian’s mouth sucks harshly at the skin of your throat, quickly working his way downward, your heartbeat pounding in time with the drums of the notes in the other room.

“Don’t you want to be my good girl?” He taunts and you hiss, pulling at his hair from where you were threading the silky strands through your fingers.

“Fuck you,” you spit.

“No,” he growls, low in your ear. You let slip a strained moan as you feel the heat of his cock meet your dripping cunt before sliding in easily, one fell swoop that shoves all of the emotions you’ve buried deep inside of you to the surface. “Fuck you.”

You cry out in pleasure, clinging to him like you never want to let him go. Your legs wind around his waist and he presses your body into the door as he fucks into you, his fingers covering the spots where Rhodes had been holding you in the ballroom, replacing the commanders touch with his own.

The bond aches in your chest at your close proximity to your counterpart. Your other half, equals in every way yet you can’t stand each other. You can’t stand his stupid hair that fits perfectly between your fingers, his hazel gaze that’s always staring at you with malice. You hate the smirk he directs your way and how you can’t seem to ever get those lips off of your mind, how you dream about him as much as you work with him–

No. You need to shut that train of thought down immediately, but it’s so difficult when his cock commands them from you, pushing them to the surface with each thrust, you moan out his name instead.

“That’s right,” he says against your mouth, “Scream for me, sweetheart.”

And you do.

It’s the only thing you can do besides let your innermost feelings spill from your lips. You know that you shouldn’t feel this way, know that he loathes you, but you can’t help it. You were made to be his, to want him completely.

Your nails rake down his back, so awfully close to the base of his wings it has him shuddering a growling, nipping harshly at your lip as he untangles your hands from around him. You whimper at the loss when he pins them above your head in one hand, the other supporting you, the muscles of his arm bulging with the effort.

Head falling back on your shoulders, your thighs quake where they’re clasped around Cassian’s waist. You can feel the perspiration against your forehead as he presses his against your own, glaring down at you because he wants to watch you as he ruins you, makes a mess of you for everyone else tonight.

Your chest heaves against his, a battle all its own as your heart beats a booming rhythm. Your skin sticks to his and you gasp when he shifts, plunging into you from a different angle.

You cum on his cock but Cassian’s not finished with you. He bites at your shoulder when he feels you tense around him, revels in the noises you make, uncaring if anyone else hears. It is the Hewn City, afterall.

“Give me another,” he demands, picking up his pace, pressing into your further. You can hardly breathe with his body against yours and you think you’ve heard the wood of the door begin splitting open from how harshly he’s fucking you into it.

Your legs go limp around him but he has one thing on his mind, releasing your arms in favor of latching onto your legs to hold you up. You mewl at the relentless way that he’s fucking into you, the long draw of your orgasm quickly building into another as his cock hits the spot inside of you like he’s known it all along.

You have no choice but to follow his demand, cumming around him again with a keen as he follows, releasing into you, his breathing ragged.

He leans against you for a moment as he collects his bearings and before you have the chance to revel in the way his body molds perfectly to yours he’s dropping you to your feet and tucking himself away.

“Clean yourself up, you look like a mess.”

His words clang in your chest like a death knoll, harsh and unrelenting. You should have known it to be true, neither of you ever stayed a minute longer in each other’s presence once you’d finished, but this…this stings.

Cassian leaves you in the darkened room by yourself while he slips away, headed towards the dining room where dinner is about to be served.

You sit for a long moment, his cum dripping down your thighs as you bury unwanted emotions away. Your dress is a disheveled mess and your lips are bruised with his kisses, skin dotted purple from his touch.

You knew that the Mother was cruel, but not like this. Because you’re mated to the male you loathe, even if he has ruined you for every other body in Prythian.

You fist the silky material of your dress as your anger seeps in.

No. You will not let him humiliate you this time. You’re the one he stopped in the hall. You’re the one he dragged away from Rhodes. You’re the one who made him cum again and again.

You’re not letting Cassian have this one.

It takes you two times to stand because of how bad your legs are trembling. Your thighs are sore from how hard Cassian fucked you and you can feel every place he touched as you shove your skirts down to cover your slick legs. You hadn’t bothered to wipe him from you. No, you want them all to know who treats you like this.

You stalk towards the dining room, building your confidence brick by brick with each clack of your heels. Spine straightening, chin tilting upward, mouth pressed into a firm line.

Let them see the tear in your dress, the mess of your hair, the smear of your lipstick halfway across your cheek. Let them smell the cum dripping down your thighs. Show them how much of a brute through and through Cassian is.

Fuck him.

As you near, you hear the heavy scrape of a chair against the floor. It’s an urgent sound, like someone’s realized they’ve forgotten their weapon in another room. Just as you’re about to turn the corner to enter the dining room Cassian appears, wrapping a firm arm around your waist and hoisting you over his shoulder in such a swift move it takes your mind a moment to catch up. The talon of his wing nearly tears your forehead open and you make a noise of frustration in retaliation.

“Hey,” you shout, pounding at his back. His grip is tight, unrelenting and your fists don’t seem to have any effect on the hard cording of his back. “Put me down!”

“No,” he growls in response, stalking away from the dinner guests.

But you’re not giving up, you never have.

Cassian lets you slip from his shoulder but he’s quick to pin you against the wall, as far from the dinner his body would allow before the need to be buried inside of you again becomes unbearable.

“I’m hungry,” you say, acting aloof as ever.

Cassian grins wolfishly, “I’ll give you something to put in your mouth then, how about that?”

You don’t have a chance to respond because he’s dipping down, lips capturing yours in a feral kiss that’s more teeth than lips.

Your body reacts instinctually. You’re clawing at his clothes, but he no longer seems to care if buttons pop from the ridiculous shirt Rhys had forced him into, if the fabric snags against his wings in your haste to rid him of it. It’s like you can’t control yourself, something deep inside of you needing to be filled by him always.

He spins you around and you plant your hands against the wall to brace yourself. Rucking your dress up on your hips, Cassian is quick to tug his trousers off once more. And while you’d come here with the intention of giving him a piece of your mind, your body clearly has other thoughts, your mating bond thrashing around in the cage it’s being locked in.

“Don’t be fucking greedy now,” he grunts as you arch into him, shoving your cunt back to take him more fully. His hands are steel on your hips, the pads of his fingers digging roughly into your skin, halting your movements. “Already ready for round two?”

You bite your lip so hard you nearly draw blood as you try to stifle the whimper crawling up your throat. Gods, you need more, you need his broad chest pinning you to the wall, you need to feel the roughness of the partition imprinted into your cheek as he tries to shove you through it while he fucks into you harder, unable to control himself, giving into that primal urge that you’re feeling as well, the bond trying to claw it’s way from your body and into his–

“You’ll get as much as I give you,” his snarl is paired with a shifting of his hips, not forward, but back. It sends a flash of anger through you and you’re shaking in his grasp, you’re sure he can feel it beneath his hold on you. You can feel the head of his cock pulling out and you squeeze your eyes shut, clenching around him desperately, like it might just keep him there.

Cold air rushes through your lungs as he retreats. If you were a better female you wouldn’t beg, but the warmth of his pulsing cock withdrawing from your cunt is like losing a limb. You can feel your heart rate pick up in panic as his tip halts right inside of your entrance, any slight movement from you will send him sliding out completely.

You gasp desperately, and it sounds like a plea of pain while he holds you on the end of this hot cock.

“Fuck you like you love me, Cassian,” you beg, body shaking with the effort it takes to keep still for him. You don’t even realize what you’ve said until the air shifts in the aftermath.

Cassian’s hold on your hips turns to steel and his spine straightens. The bond in his chest roars and his vision goes white. He nearly loses the grip he has on himself, the wall he’d so carefully built between the two of you, and your confession has him wanting to bury his cock so deeply into you it’ll break you in half, so that he’s embedded into your body, your soul, forever.

“Tell me again,” he commands, but it’s not a warcry signaling the beginning of battle. No, it’s something else, much softer. It makes you whimper.

But you refuse. You will not repeat the words that had slipped from your mouth as if someone else had taken control of your body, as if your mating bond had grown a voice and forced it from you on its own. The words that had been shoved so deeply within yourself that they hardly even sound like you.

Cassian’s demeanor changes at your lack of response, fisting your hair in his grasp. He forces you into the wall with his elbow to your spine and pulls your hair tight. Your neck cranes and your back bows in his hold. He leans in close, breath hot in your ear as he growls. “Tell. Me. Again.”

“Please,” you gasp. Please don’t make me repeat myself. Please don’t stop fucking me. Please don’t hate me–

“No, that’s not it,” he scolds, but his tone takes on a slightly softer tone. His movements are agonizingly slow, sliding deep into like he hasn’t left in the middle of dinner to fuck you against the wall not even twenty feet away. Your entire body shudders in reaction to the long stroke, and tears burn your eyes when he nearly pulls all the way out of you again. “Tell me, sweetheart. I didn’t hear you.”

“Don’t,” you choke, a stubborn tear rolling hot down your cheek. You squeeze your eyes tight so he doesn’t see, “You’re being cruel, Cassian.”

“I think you’re the one being cruel, sweetheart,” he counters lowly. “Taunting me with your words, touching other males, teasing me with this perfect pussy.” His last words are accentuated by two sharp thrusts that make your cunt convulse and a weak moan escape your lips. “So I think you’ll be repeating exactly what you said a moment ago when I ask you.”

How can such harsh words make you feel like this? Cassian’s been nothing but rude to you since you’d arrived and yet he makes you feel like no other has. And if this is how you feel when he’s discourteous, you imagine how you’d feel if he actually had feelings…

Cauldron fucking spare me.

You work to swallow, refusing to meet his gaze as you speak, voice trembling. “I said…fuck me like you love me.”

The air is sucked from your body at the admission, his body, from the room. He’s so silent that if his warmth at your back and the head of his cock weren’t torturing you, you wouldn’t even know he was here at all.

“Look at me,” Cassian asks, and his voice is soft, so tender that it makes you flinch.

You refuse. You can’t force yourself to look at him. Not when he’s going to glare at you and make fun of you–

“Sweetheart,” he coos, tracing a gentle thumb across your cheek. “Please.”

And you do.

You don’t even know who you’re looking at. Cassian’s hazel eyes have gone soft, big and wide and staring at you like he doesn’t recognize you either. His bond strokes against your heart like his fingers do your spine, his grip in your hair slackening as his brash fingertips melt into a caress.

“I do love you, sweetheart,” he admits, and a part of you so desperately wants to believe that he’s lying. That his sappy glance will morph into one of condescending and taunting, but you can see it in his eyes that he’s being nothing but honest.

That feeling in your chest tells you so, too.

But you can’t help the insecurities that whimper out of you. “You do?”

He releases a shaky chuckle and he relaxes like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. You gasp as he pulls out of you completely but he’s spinning you around and drawing you into his body, pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss that doesn’t burn with lust but with love.

“Gods, yes,” he pants, pressing his forehead against yours. “I don’t know when it changed. Reckon I’ve always loved you, I think.”

Your heart soars at his words, mating bond singing in your chest. You can’t help but to grin up at him, brushing a loose strand of hair from his face, admiring his own look of awe.

“I think I’ve always loved you too, Cassian,” you sigh. Unable to help yourself you press up onto the tips of your toes, pecking him on the lips once, and then again.

The war between you is over.

Almost, because the string in your chest coiling and twining with his is the last thing keeping you apart.

Cassian must feel it too because he’s groaning like a dying male, leaning into you exaggeratedly. It makes you giggle and his heart soar.

“If I eat you out does that count as completing the bond, sweetheart? Need you to be mine right now.”

You laugh, burrowing your head into his chest. “Cassian, there is a dinner table right on the other side of this wall.”

He pulls away from you, face hard. The smile slips from your lips but his look isn’t one of anger, but primal protection.

“I’m not letting any of those fuckers see you like this.”

You cross your arms over your chest and raise your eyebrow in challenge. “Like what?”

That familiar razor-sharp smirk graces his lips, making your heart flutter in your chest. He reaches down to where your dress is torn and bunched up from your promiscuous activities, dragging two long fingers through your wetness and cum from minutes earlier.

You shudder as he draws his fingers away, into his mouth, answer enough.

“Well, then you better get me out of here quickly,” you purr, wrapping your hand around his still stiff cock. He grunts softly and his pupils dilate. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

#cassian/reader #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acosf #azsazz #cassian smut #hatefucking

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voltronisanobsession · 10 months

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miguel finding his kid again

I wanted this to be short but I couldn’t help writing so much :/ I just ended it quickly LMAO💀💀

SPIDERVERSE CONCEPT CUZ IVE BEEN OBSESSED

OK SO!! I’ve seen a LOT of headcanons and concepts about Miguel finding his kid in a different universe and just being super protective of them, whether they’re a spider or a normal civilian. But I have a different take on it.

Imagine Miguel and his crew of spider people hunting down this new anomaly that’s been jumping between different universes, always managing to narrowly escape them. Miguel is super frustrated because not one of them is able to capture this villain? Person? Ugh he doesn’t have enough time to care with all the mayhem they’re causing.

This new anomaly, aka Reader, happened to gain these freak new abilities after the events in ITSV that allows them to tear a hole in any universe and travel through it. Of course they have no idea which universe their new powers will take them to so it’s always a 50/50 chance with it.

But the real problem that makes reader a ‘threat’ to the spider society is when they stay too long in a universe, things start slowly glitching out and causing destruction to the world. They’re just too strong that it breaks the balance of any universe they stay in. Kind of like tipping the scale sort of deal!

Which is why homeboy Miguel wants Reader detained asap before they cause a whole universe to collapse on itself. But like! It’s not the readers fault really!! They just don’t know how to control their powers and having a bunch of adults viciously chase them around really does something to a kid (looking at you Miles💀)

But constantly running away from superheroes while wearing a mask does begin painting them in a villain light💔

So imagine Reader gets cornered at last by Miguel, Jess, and some other spiders.

“Guys, I promise it’s not what it looks like. I’m just a normal person, I’m practically harmless!” They say as they bump against the building behind them, watching in horror as it begins to glitch at the contact they made.

Despite the teens voice sounding familiar, Miguel brushes it off and scoffs.

“Ha, harmless. Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be.”

Reader has no idea what the spider society is gonna do to them so they can only glitch a hole in the building behind them and run away in fear. Miguel is absolutely fed up with them and just dashes after Reader, chasing them up buildings as they glitch around. He knows he’s running out of time since this usually only happens when they’re getting ready to open a portal.

He would manage to get a hold of their hoodies sleeve before they go tumbling down to the ground, mask yanked off to properly breath in some air. Reader opens a portal, trying to stand up and stumbling a bit, looking back to Miguel.

Just as he’s about to run towards them and tackle them to the ground, his breath gets caught in his throat, heart suddenly beating erratically.

He recognizes their hair, the shape of their face, sees the fear in their eyes. He literally cannot move. Miguel is frozen at his spot, body trembling at the sight of you. His child. His dead child.

“y/n?” His voice would almost be a whisper, but reader hears. They can only stare in shock at the sound of their name, slowly backing up.

“How do you know my name?”

This dude would get some major flash backs, from his old life, to when he caused a universe’s destruction. Everything he swore to protect, to love, he failed. He failed reader twice, so it’s understandable that Miguel might be a little afraid of you.

He would not move an inch even after readers gone, Jess having to snap him back to reality. Miguel was not ready to get a smack to the face with seeing Reader again after all this time and pain.

This is what I wanted to talk about originally. After seeing his kid again, instead of growing desperate to create a new relationship with them, he’s just afraid. He’s scared of a repeat after what happened before. Miguel wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of reader, they remind him too much of what he’s lost.

I think he would step down in being about of the chase for Reader, he can’t go after them after finding out their his child. Well, in a different universe, their his child. He’s too afraid to face them again. Too afraid of the memories they bring.

It’s only when they accidentally glitch into his office that he’s forced to come face with them again. And when he does, he tries his best to get away from them💀💀💀 like bro is webbing away, powering up his platform and getting lifted up into the air away from them.

Which would totally be fine with Reader hadn’t they been chased down by this man for a couple of weeks. Why isn’t he trying to attack them? What’s the sudden mood change? Is he afraid of what they could do?

They can only clumsily climb their way up to him while asking him questions.

“Um, I know we got off the wrong foot but- urgh! Almost slipped haha! Anyways like I was saying! What’s your name? Oh and why are you trying to get away from me?”

They would be right in front of Miguel, a few feet away from where they’re hanging and he would just turn around, back facing them while they grunt in annoyance.

“You stopped going with your little gang. I know I’ve been zapping all over the place but was it something I did? Hey are you ok??”

Miguel’s body would move as he tries to stifle his quiet sobs at the sound of your voice. Oh god did he miss you. But he can’t get close to reader again. Not after what happened last time.

“I think I have tissue somewhere in my poCKEETTT-!” Miguel’s immediately webbing reader towards him as they slip off the pipe they were standing on, making a free fall

He lets out a shaky breath at the sight of you alright in his arms again. He can’t control his urges as he hugs reader tightly, letting soft apologies fall from his lips.

All this is happening and reader is just so dumbfounded. They could only awkwardly pat his arm and accept his apologies. You didn’t know he was THAT sorry for chasing you around universes.

“I missed you so much. I never wanted that to happen to you, mi corazon. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about man but thanks I guess?”

He’s sniffling as he releases you, eyebrows furrowed as he holds you by the shoulders. It’s only when he realizes reader has no idea who he is that his heart sinks.

“My dad died when I was young. Like toddler young. I never got to know him.”

You don’t know how to feel when Miguel reveals that he was your father, not the same dad from your universe, but a different variant.

This begins the weird growing relationship between the two of them. Miguel tries his best to put distance between them while Reader is just super eager to know more about him! His favorite foods, how he created this spider society, what happened to the different variant of you that clearly has him shaken up!

It would take a bit of time before Miguel slowly lets down his guard again. Allowing reader into his heart again for the third time.

#atsv x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #platonic spiderverse #into the spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x reader #platonic Miguel O’Hara #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderverse miguel #spiderverse concept #miguel atsv #atsv x you

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beautifulmadnesss · 11 months

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"Maybe I'm Better Off Dead" Velaryon!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: After the death of Lucerys, Aemond takes Visenya, the surviving sister of Lucerys, back with him to Kings Landing. Warning: if its in HoTD it's in here

I stood in the hall of Storms End, waiting for what seemed like hours, my hand never moving from the hilt of my sword. Luke knew Aemond wouldn't give up, so he flew off first and I was to follow after a while.

"My Lord thank you for your time as a gracious host. I will return home now." I gave a small curtsey to Lord Baratheon and turned to leave just as the doors opened.

I knew immediately by the look on his face that something was horribly wrong. All the earlier arrogance and even the anger he had directed at my brother was gone from his face. He looked shocked and even, perhaps, a little afraid.

"Uncle, I was just-" He cut me off without even glancing at me.

"My Lord, I ask that you would detain the Lady Visenya until I bring her with me to Kings Landing." He had regained some of his composure, enough that Lord Baratheon paused.

"I cannot get involved with this war in such a treasonous manner."

"I'm afraid Rhaenyra Targaryen will be angered with you regardless after the death of her son just above your home." I charged at him so quickly that he was the only one to react in time to stop me.

"You killed my brother!" I screamed at him, attempting to strike him with my sword, but he simply overpowered me and pulled it from my grasp. It clattered along the floor as he tossed it aside. I continued to try and fight against him, but he was twice my size and it was useless.

"I already told you boy, I will not have bloodshed in my home. You will take the girl to Kings Landing at once and your brother will provide me the protection you promised." Lord Baratheon commanded.

"Let me go!" I screamed, fighting as he dragged me along with him, out into the courtyard where my dragon screeched and fought against her chains. I heard a much louder roar and turned to see Aemond's dragon, Vhagar. I saw the unmistakable crimson around her jaws and my heart clenched. "You monster!" I sobbed, feeling helpless and entirely alone. He didn't respond, but kept pulling me toward the beast that had murdered my brother and his dragon. My fighting did nothing to detour him as he lifted me onto Vhagar above him, pushing me up as he climbed until we were both sat in the saddle. He pulled out some rope from one of the bags on the saddle and bound my hands in front of me, securing them to the saddle, so I had no escape. "I hate you and I swear to you that you will die screaming." I growled at him, mustering every ounce of hatred I could, despite knowing he could feel my body trembling.

"Sōvēs." He said, ignoring my threat, and commanding his dragon to take me to the home of my enemies.

"Vhagar killed Luke and Arrax. Now you're taking me to you mother and grandsire to have them kill me. I suppose that makes you a coward." I taunted him as he carefully helped me off Vhagar with surprisingly gentle hands.

"They're not going to kill you." He said, still not looking me in the eye.

"I wish they would." I muttered, finally drawing his gaze. His eyes softened slightly as he took in my tear soaked face.

"I'm truly sorry about Luke, I didn't intend-"

"Then you're stupid. You chased a child and a young dragon with a hundred year old dragon that was one of three dragons that burned half the country during the Conquest. You don't control her. You're simply too arrogant to see that and now my brother is dead." My hands were still bound and the top of my head barely reached his sternum, but I could tell, I struck a nerve. His jaw tensed and his eyes rapidly searched my face as he considered a response.

Eventually he said, "he took my eye."

"Now you took his life. I hope your revenge was worth it." I tried to use my shoulder to wipe away the tears that had fallen. I would not cry before the King and his advisors.

That is exactly where Aemond took me. It was just before dawn as he marched me into the council room. Aegon wore the crown of his namesake as he sat in the chair directly in front of me. On his right sat his grandsire and his hand Otto Hightower, Ser Criston Cole who was presumably his Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, my uncle, Lord Larys Strong, and a Lord Jasper Wyld. To his left was his mother, though she had no true seat on the council. Next to her was Grand Maester Orwyle, and finally Ser Tyland Lannistor, who had once competed for my mothers affections. I glared at each of the traitors before me with all the wrath of my birthright as a Princess.

"Uncle." I said with no move to curtsey.

"You will address your King with respect, bastard." Cole commanded.

"It's alright, she's had a difficult night I hear. Her elder brother and his dragon lay in pieces at the bottom of Shipbreaker Bay." Aegon taunted and I felt my heart twist painfully at the brutality of his words, but I steeled myself to give no reaction. "Shall we have her executed?" He suggested and I hated that I shrunk back against Aemond. Perhaps I imagined it, but I thought I felt his hand tighten against my arm.

"No. We will not kill her. There has already been enough bloodshed." Alicent spoke for the first time. "Rhaenyra will see reason and bend the knee."

"She will not and you know it. You betrayed her when you stole her throne and now you have allowed the murder of her son." I decided that if I was going to be executed then I may as well speak my mind.

"Your grace, if it pleases you, perhaps it is best to keep the girl as a prisoner, to persuade Rhaenyra to bend the knee." Otto Hightower added in support of his daughter.

"What of her dragon?" Tyland Lannister inquired.

"I shall arrange for the beast to be killed." Ser Criston replied, glancing at Aegon for approval to which he nodded.

"No!" I tried to shoot forward, but Aemond was expecting it and held me even tighter against his chest.

"We will keep her dragon chained in the dragon pit, as they already have more dragons and we could use the addition. As for Visenya, I will take her as my wife and either her mother will bend the knee and I will reside on Dragonstone with my wife or she will refuse and Visenya will remain here with me." Aemond spoke with all his usual confidence and I realized in his silence on the way over here, he was made this plan.

"I will not-"

"You will obey your King or I swear it that you will suffer the consequences. Mother, you will prepare the plans for the wedding and it will be held in two days." Aegon commanded with only the fraction of the authority he believed that he possessed.

"Your grace, are you sure that it is wise to bind your brother to a bastard?" Otto questioned.

"The hand does as the King commands and you will not question me again." Aegon spat. "Aemond, you shall keep her in your chambers. Ser Criston, double your men outside and have them to seal the windows. Dear niece, I will have the ladies prepare a dress fit for a Princess." I glared at him, though it had no effect. He held all the power here and I was simply a prisoner at his mercy.

Aemond pulled my arm and led me out of the room. We made our way through the halls without either of us saying a word until we reached his chambers. He removed his sword and left it by the door before opening the door for me to enter.

Once it shut behind us and I heard a latch snap, he turned to me. "I'm going to remove these. Don't do anything stupid, please." I didn't respond, but I also didn't try to resist as he undid the ropes around my wrists. "Tomorrow, I presume my mother will have more clothes for you, but for tonight-" He tossed me what I presumed was his small clothes. He didn't wait for my response as he went behind the screen to change his own clothes. I had only taken a small step forward to search for a weapon or an escape when he spoke again, "I would be disappointed if you didn't try, but I assure you, there is no escape and the guards have removed any weapons." I huffed in frustration, but he was right, I would not be giving up. "Are you decent or are you still searching for a plan?" He asked after a few moments.

"Just a moment," I replied. I was in fact searching for a plan and had made no moves to change. Though he seemed to be remaining on the other side of the screen, I hid around the corner as I removed my soaked dress and small clothes, only now realizing how cold I was. His small clothes fit as I expected they would, the sleeves down far past the tips of my fingers and the hem pooling in excess around my feet. "Alright." I said, poking around the corner.

He erupted into laughter the moment he saw me. I scowled in response, folding my arms, uncomfortably around my stomach while also gathering as much of the fabric as I could to cover myself. I also ensured as much distance between us as the room would allow. I had never been alone with a man, not even Daemon or my father, it was always to preserve my maidenhood for my husband. My mother had explained it to me some, as her only daughter, but she ensured me that she would share more with me before my wedding. She promised to marry me to a gentle and kind man, a man I loved. Aemond was none of those things and while he may have spared my life tonight, he also took the life of my brother.

His laughter quieted as he took in my face. "I will not harm you." He said raising his hands. "I know that you have no reason to believe that and I know that you hate me, but I swear to you that I will not force you into anything. I only suggested us to be wed so that my brother would not kill you or worse."

I bit my lip as tears fell once again, "You killed Luke and took me prisoner, why should I trust anything you have to say?"

He glanced at the door and took a few steps closer to me. I immediately gasped and shot backward, only running into the wall. He noticed and retreated quickly. His voice dropped to a whisper, "No one will believe you if you repeat this. I truly mean it, I am deeply sorry and I never meant to kill Lucerys. I will regret my actions until my very last day." I watched his adams apple bob as he swallowed. "The only thing I can do is to try to make it right with you. I know that you could not be allowed to return to Dragonstone; however, I knew that by offering up a marriage, my brother would spare your life."

I shook my head. He did tell them not to kill me, but I still couldn't trust him. I was completely alone here and if I was going to survive here, I couldn't let Aemond or anyone else trick me.

"I'm going to sleep over there, okay?" He pointed sofa between us. "You can take the bed." When I didn't respond he took a small step forward and when I didn't react, he continued forward. He was approaching the sofa from the right, so I moved to the left and continued to face him as I stepped toward the bed. Only when he was settled on the sofa did I climb onto the bed. The warmth immediately surrounded me as I cozied up under the blankets and settled back against the pillows. The relief was short-lived as I was once again confronted with how entirely alone I was. I wanted nothing more than to be comforted by my best friend, but the only offering I had was the emptiness he had left behind. He was dead and would never again be of any comfort to me or anyone else. I turned to my side and pulled one of the pillows against my chest, quickly burying my face into it to muffle the sobs that escaped. I completely broke down as I thought of the rest of my family. Had someone told my mother and brothers? Would Uncle Daemon come looking for me? Would they accept the demands of Aegon or would I be doomed to suffer alone, married to Aemond for the rest of my life? The sobs continued until I had exhausted myself into a restless sleep.

"I will go and lead Aemond away, it is me he wants. Stay here until you are sure more than enough time has passed, then depart for Dragonstone. I will meet you there." He shouted against the rain and thunder.

"Luke, no. We go together!" I begged, already knowing he was never going to listen.

"I am your brother, it is my duty to protect you. I was the one who took his eye and now I will pay for it." He placed his hands on either side of my head. "I will return home, I swear it." He gathered me into a tight hug. "Now, hurry and hide before Aemond comes." He shoved me gently away from him. We both climbed onto our dragons and with one last look took off in opposite directions. I flew just above the castle and back down to the opposite side before quickly climbing off of my dragon and returning to the hall where Lord Baratheon waited.

"Clever girl. Leave the fighting to the men and we shall see which of them survives." He looked as though the idea brought him joy while my entire body was vibrating with terror and adrenaline.

I shut my eyes and was immediately met with the picture of Luke and Arrax soaring through the pouring rain. The sky lit up with flashes of lightning and I watched as Luke frantically searched the skies around him. After another bright flash, I saw Vhagar looming over him. He quickly veered to the right before shooting upwards at a speed that only the small and nimble Arrax could achieve, perhaps the only advantage over the much larger and battle-wise, Vhagar. I could nearly feel his tempered relief as he scanned the clear skies above the storm. He visibly relaxed before devolving into a scream as Vhagar erupted from a cloud with jaws expanded wide enough to easily devour both Luke and Arrax. I watched in horror as the explosion of crimson dispersed to reveal the chunks of flesh that were all that remained of my brother and his beloved dragon. A scream ripped from my throat and I thrashed to escape as the massive beast turned to consume me next. My arms were pinned to my sides and my legs pressed against my dragon as Vhagar descended upon me.

"Visneya!"" I jolted upward, narrowly missing a shape looming above me. I scrambled backwards until I collided with the headboard, though I wasn't sure what exactly I was escaping from. "It's alright. You're alright." Aemond came into focus as I realized it was his hands on my arms, not the jaws of his dragon. and my legs were tangled up in the sheets of his bed, not the straps of my saddle.

"Get away from me!" I screamed, still panting and slightly disoriented from the nightmare. He jumped back as though I had slapped him and it was only then that I took in the genuine concern displayed through his furrowed brows and tight lips. His sapphire eye glinted against the candlelight, free from the patch he normally wore.

"I'm sorry. You were screaming and I-"

"Why didn't you let them kill me? I do not wish to live like this." I begged him. "Truly, if you are sorry, you will set me free either by my dragon or by your sword."

"I can't." He said, his voice cracking.

"Then do not pretend that you care." I spat. "You are just as much of a monster as that beast that you ride."

"Very well." He inclined his head and returned to his spot on the opposite side of the room. Though I could tell he was still watching me carefully.

As I laid back down in the bed, it was not lost on me that despite my screams, no one came to my aid. I was to be left alone with no one, but the monster who had taken the life of my brother over a childhood thirst for revenge.

Part 2

a/n: part 2? other requests?

#imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #aemond targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #lucerys velaryon #lucerys valeryon x reader #lucerys x reader #Aemond x reader #velaryon!reader

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thefiery-phoenix · 1 month

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YANDERE DANIEL PARK HEADCANONS

Well I've started getting into the Lookism Fandom as well and damn, it's addicting. Also I'm so sorry for disappearing for so long, my 12th grade exams are finally done and it's a huge relief which means I'll have more time on my hands now. Thank you all for your support despite my lousy forgetful behavior

Daniel Park as a yandere would be obsessive, possessive and would also be a complete stalker and somewhat slightly manipulative too but not to an extent which would hurt you completely. You'd first befriend little Daniel and his obsession for you starts from there. When everyone else was busy picking on him and making fun of him and ruthlessly bullying him, you appeared like an angel sent from the heavens itself to save him, to protect him and accept him for who he was. He was so surprised when you got a job at the convenience store where he worked and was extremely thrilled to be working along side with you to spend more time with you

As time passes by, his obsession for you spiraled into a rabbit hole of madness. His love for you was getting out of control. Whatever body he might be in, you will always be the only person who will reside in his heart. You'll always have a special place in his heart. Daniel would not spare anyone who dared to make you feel upset or dared to pick on you or make you cry. The other day Logan Lee decided it would be a good idea to take his frustration out on you after Zoe ended up rejecting him for what seemed like the umpteenth time and Logan ended up pouring chocolate milk all over you and your body which leaked and dripped down your hair and uniform

Your eyes welled up with tears and before you were even about to react, Daniel punched Logan straight in the jaw and a few strikes and blows later he was blacked out and unconscious. He becomes ruthless whenever someone tries to harm you. He went back to his sweet and kind and caring more as he pulled you out of the cafeteria into the hallway and offered you his jacket and helped you wash off the chocolate milk from your hair, his heart stinging and breaking at your every sniffle. If there's something he absolutely cannot stand is seeing you, the love of his life cry. You're literally breaking his heart with your tears and he'll gently caress your cheek with his fingers and assure you that he's always here for you

When he makes a promise he sticks by it no matter what. So when he said he was going to be by your side at all costs, he meant it. Your innocent oblivious self won't know that Daniel is pretty much stalking the heck out of you now. It's just for safety purposes you know, the streets of South Korea aren't safe for a pretty little thing like you. You need someone like him to protect you and take care of you and he's more than happy to play your knight in shining armor. You had the dangerous habit of listening to music with both your airpods in your ears which made you completely oblivious to your surroundings. Your lack of awareness would have resulted in something drastic had it not been for your protector Daniel lurking from behind the shadows to protect you by beating those no good scumbags who dared to lay their filthy eyes on you

At times he's not above killing people either especially if they look at you in the wrong manner. Don't even get me started when he loses his consciousness and he blacks out and has eyes like Gun's. He goes completely feral and can and will destroy everything that stands against his way which proved to be a threat to you. He likes cherishing the little things you give him from pens to pencils to candies and such

Under NO circumstances whatsoever does he want you getting involved in fights or these crew wars that happen so frequently. It doesn't matter if you're a fighting prodigy but he will always ensure fighting is off the table for you. The last thing he wants is to see you get hurt and he'd rather burst a blood vessel than allow a single scratch on that pretty body of yours

Once you do manage to figure out he's stalking you or has an unhealthy obsession towards you there won't be any point in going to his friends either for help. Zack is the same case with Mira so it wouldn't really bother him, Jay is helping out his good friend Daniel by keeping an eye on you with his various resources and ensuring the idiots who made the mistake of making you upset are now blacklisted from every single company existing. Perks of being the Prince of the fashion department. Vasco and the Burn Knuckles would just see this as Daniel loving you so much that he's willing to do anything for you and they admire him even more if that was possible

Daniel would only resort to kidnapping you if you're on the verge of leaving the country or if you're going out with someone else. It's okay though it's not your fault. You're never in the wrong in his eyes. You'll wake up in his apartment and you'll obviously be confused and upset and he can understand that. He's filled the apartment with all your favorite books and your favorite things to make you feel more at ease and comfortable. Take as much time you need to settle down he won't mind. It's a big change for you after all

He loves and adores it when you compliment him, he's like melted putty in your hands. Just say the word and anything you want will be yours. Except for your freedom of course. You won't be able to escape from him, he'll find you but he won't punish you. He can't beat to hurt you but he'll make sad puppy dog pleading eyes and ask you why won't you love him despite what he's doing for you. Reason and logic is thrown out of the damn window with him. However if someone tries to forcibly snatch you away from him, they better be praying to whatever God they believe in and hope they're only stuck with a hospital bill instead of funeral service procedures. He'll get the locks changed and get a better security system for you, courtesy from Jay himself. You won't be leaving Daniel ever. You're his and he'll do anything and everything he can to ensure it stays that way...

#yandere daniel park #yandere daniel park x reader #yandere daniel park headcanons #yandere daniel park imagines #yandere daniel park oneshots #yandere daniel park scenarios #yandere daniel park x reader imagines #yandere lookism #yandere lookism x reader #yandere lookism characters #yandere lookism characters x reader #lookism #lookism x reader

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ikigainn · 1 year

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A Delicate Touch | Dazai Osamu

dazai x reader

warnings: obsession with dazai’s hands, slight mention of suicidal tendencies. i’m sorry this might be so bad.

We’re in a theater watching a play for our undercover mission today. An actor has been getting threats, and it was our job to investigate. Is it hot because of my nervousness about this mission? Or is it him?

It’s the proximity of our hands that's doing this to me. There’s no way that I would be affected by Dazai Osamu. His beautiful, delicate hands were adorned by silver rings around each thin, long finger. He left the bandages and his usual attire today, opting for a formal black suit (that still covered all of him) and slicked-back hair. We were pretending to be a couple in order to avoid any suspicion. His nails were trimmed clean, and the veins—it’s definitely the veins’ fault. I’m letting my hormones control me. Maybe I am starved by a touch (or maybe I’m only starved by his). His fingers are moving in a slow circle on his left knee, the tips of his fingers touching my knee, exposed by my dress. It’s just a slight touch; I doubt he’s even noticing what he’s doing (or maybe he is; he is a wicked devil after all). But every contact makes me feel like my skin is on fire. I try resting my hands on my lap to steer him away. It doesn’t work. Then I exhaled a deep breath, trying to stay away from him. He noticed the sudden distance and looked up at me questioningly, raising a brow. Why does he have to look so dazzling? I turn my head, trying to ignore his annoying presence. Suddenly I feel warm fingers, joined by the coldness of cool metal slowly enclosing my right hand that rests on my lap. I know that it’s him; no one could make me feel on fire like he does. His fingers slid forward between the valleys of my fingers. It’s getting harder to breathe. Suddenly, his thumb brushed over my wrist, feeling my heartbeat.

"Are you doing well, darling?", he asked, smiling that beautiful crooked smile. He leaned in, lips brushing over my ear, whispering, "I’m here for you; it’s always me and you, y/n." What could he possibly mean by that? Why is he driving me crazy? He still didn’t let go of my hand.

Instead, he started softly sliding the top of his knuckles over my palm and then horizontally across my heart line. The touch of the sudden cool metal created goosebumps (or maybe it’s just his touch?). My hands started sweating. It’s only him who does this to me. Still.. he’s not letting go. I can feel his brown eyes lazily staring at me. I glanced at him briefly, catching his curious gaze. He’s testing me. Inspecting me. Trying to see my reaction and how much he’s affecting me. I’m definitely not affected whatsoever by Dazai Osamu. Men like him don’t belong with me. He’s broken, questionable, and he possibly cannot be staring at someone with that much lo— I mean admiration—in his eyes. He looks at me like I’m the death he so longs for. Maybe he’s just doing this for our undercover act. But why does it feel so real? I could feel his other hand gently sliding beneath mine to trap it. He doesn’t want me to let go. Then his forefinger starts drawing a circle on my palm. Such a simple touch, but my heart is on the verge of exploding. His middle finger joins his forefinger, still drawing a circle. Then his fingers enclose my wrist, and his thumb starts stroking my wrist up and down. What the hell is he doing? He returns his forefinger and middle finger and changes the pattern.. to lines? He lets me go, yet I still feel the fire of his touch on my hand. I realize that the play has ended, and there aren’t any signs of an enemy. "It was such a great play, am I right darling?" He smirked at me. He did this on purpose, utilizing the mission.. and our proximity.. Why though? .. Little did I realize later, the lines he wrote on my hand represented the kanji symbol of love..

#dazai #OSAMU DAZAI #Dazai Osamu #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #bsd dazai #bsd dazai x reader #dazai x y/n #dazai x you #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x you #romance #dazai fluff #dazai scenarios #dazai oneshot

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ominoose · 6 months

Note

Top 5 Oscar characters most likely to be yanderes? 👀

Ooooh here we go. In no particular order:

• Blue Jones

He's possessive as hell, relationships for him will be part of his status and control is notoriously a big part of who he is. Blue wants to know where you're going, now long you'll be there, what you're wearing, etc. Sometimes he might not let you leave, not for a particular reason, just to exercise control.

Blue picks what you wear too, treating you like his perfect doll. Since you'll live in the Lennox club you'll have his guards eyes on you constantly, so anything you do will be reported back to him. You live in the palm of his hands, and he'll lord that over you, letting you know he paid for that pretty dress and the roof over your head, if it weren't for him you'd be on the streets. Hell even use his customers as proof that no other man will treat you as well as he does since he technically doesn't bend you over a table without at least a warning.

• Steven Grant

Steven could end up a yandere without even realising. He has no real relationship experience, through Marc, Jake and his parents he doesn't even have any examples of what an average, healthy, stable relationship looks like. All he knows is Marc's deep but repressed feelings, so when it comes to his own love he's got so much pent up but doesn't want to repress it, he wants to show it. Steven will read all the romance novels, not knowing it's not reflective of real relationships, and take his que from those.

Expect him to be over bearing, smothering you in love, hugs, constant affirmations, accidentally objectifying you. He's absolutely obsessed with having someone love him and having someone to love. If you ever try to leave? You're talking nonsense, you loved him before, you cant stop now, hes not going to risk losing you. Will definitely get frantic and do something he regrets in a panic, like chaining you to a wall. That won't make him unchain you though, in fact it's probably for the better, you can trust him to take care of you.

• Nathan Bateman

Another man who loves having control, but instead of Blue being more sly about it, teasing you with the open Club that's actually a prison, Nathan has you completely isolated. This makes it much more easy to completely brainwash you.

I fully believe Nathan would make you dependent on him, leaving you locked in a room when you misbehave. He's the only other human you have, completely cut off from everyone else, it'll be easy to make you cling to him.

When you act out he makes an android version of you and dotes on it in front of you, especially when you're locked in clear, glass room. Nathan will show the android more care and affection than he shows you until you're sobbing and begging to get back into his good graces.

• Leto Atreides

I was hesitant to put him here but in my mind it could happen in a few specific scenarios. Being the Duke of an entire planet, the Emperor of the Universes favourite guy but also his enemy, throw in the trauma of his first wife killing his first born in a jealous fit and also his mother figure killing his dad for the same reason, Leto has gotta have some issues. That's a lot of pressure and relationship drama.

House Atreides have honour, a trait Leto likes to represent, but that isn't without flaws. This can lead to, as we see when he gets KO'd in Arrakis, being blinded by determination, blinding by pride.

If you were his favourite concubine or wife, in a period of high political stress, like during Arrakis, if things get rough I can see him snapping. He'll hold it in, trying to remain the figure of calm reason and all it'll take is one Harkkonnen threat towards you or you taking initiative and making a meeting with political heads to aid Leto, then he snaps. You'll be kept strictly in a private wing because you're his and he cannot lose you, will not lose you to the threats plaguing House Atreides from every shadow. Leto loves passionately, deeply and values loyalty and he will know that's his weakness. You're his heart, so he'll keep you locked away from the outside.

• Shimmer!Kane

I lean towards the theory that clone Kane is more primal and caveman like, he has only base human instincts when he's fresh out the Shimmer. This means he will have base instincts towards a partner.

All he has in him is a feeling of connection towards you and the concept of "partner". To him that just means you are his. Since his emotional understanding is very limited, this just manifests as him being possessive, not recognising boundaries.

I'm not much for a breeding kink, but he will breed you, that's just his understanding of humans and might even be programmed into him from the Shimmer. He might even coddle you, taking over any labour you're doing whether that be putting jars on the top shelf or carrying something upstairs. You'll likely end up feeling like a human pet for him to study and possess.

I know William Tell or Jake Lockley or Basil Stitt would've been popular choices but personally, if I was to be truly honest, I can't see it in canon (although I love it Fanon wise).

For William, I think hed too self loathing. He can barely make himself be in a normal, loving relationship and doesn't allow himself the pleasure of sleeping on a normal bed. If William dated someone and suddenly felt himself becoming possessive, controlling or any real overly strong emotion that wasn't pure love he would bolt. William knows what he is capable of and hates it.

For Basil, I think he's just too... pathetic. I don't think he has it in him to be controlling, he's too submissive. He might try, but you'd shout or tell him off and he'd buckle. He'd just sit and cry if you did something to upset him or left. Might spam you or stalk your socials but that's it.

For Jake, I think he'd check out if his emotions ever got that intense. I don't see Jake allowing himself a relationship while he's still keeping to himself from Steven and Marc, but if he was open I still see him being wary. In a scenario where he does have a partner and feels himself becoming too obsessive or controlling he would ghost and never come back. His commitment is to the body and by extension Khonshu, for your own safety and his head mates he'd split.

#omiwrites #leto atreides #steven grant #blue jones #nathan bateman #kane annihilation #william tell #basil stitt #Jake lockley

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barnabeetheraven · 1 year

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Companion Reactions to the Inquisitor waking up from a nightmare

Cassandra: When she stumbles on the Inquisitor outside, she can tell from their face that they are having a rough night. Cassandra asks them if they’d like to do some training, maybe it would help take their mind off of things; she knows that works with herself sometimes, and the two of them spar until the early morning light begins peaking over the Skyhold mountains. If Romanced: When she feels them startle beside her, she is instantly on high alert for any threat. But when she notices the Inquisitor shaking and breathing heavily, she takes a deep breath and leans over to wrap her arms around them. When the Inquisitor remarks that they dont want to go back to sleep, Cassandra gets up and grabs one of her favorite books, and they spend the rest of the night in each others arms, with Cassandra reading softly to her love.

Varric: He can tell instantly that they are having a bad night; he’s seen his fair share of that look from Hawke, Fenris, and Anders before. He starts off with some of his favorite jokes until he can see just a hint of a smile on their face, before he tells the Inquisitor that they can always come and talk to him if they need to. Not that he’s any good at doing anything about it, but hell, sometimes you just need a shoulder. Afterwards, to break the emotional tension, he has them sit down and they spend the rest of the resting hours playing Wicked Grace.

Solas: He knew even before he saw the bags under their eyes, as he had felt the intense emotions from the Inquisitor’s nightmares in his own dreams. He offers to help them with the problem, not wanting to overstep his boundaries but also wanting them to know he can help chase the nightmares away. He also makes sure to send them with a decent sleeping drought, one that is designed for dreamless sleep. He prefers not to use it, as he enjoys his nighttime adventures, but he also knows that most people cannot control their dreams as he can. If Romanced: The Inquisitor begins to notice less and less nightmares, but in each dream they see the same thing; a large, dark wolf, always at the edges of their sight, as if watching or guarding them. The Inquisitor goes to sleep at night wrapped tight in the arms of the Dread Wolf, who chases away any nightmare that might harm his Vhenan.

Sera: As she was sneaking her way across the courtyard from the kitchens, arms full of cookies and pastries she had nicked when no one was looking, she almost knocked over the Inquisitor in her hurry. After making a joke about how they look like shite, and seeing how it hit home, Sera offers to share her bounty of stolen goods, and her and the Inquisitor spend the night on the rooftop, munching their goodies and talking about all manner of silly things to take the Inquisitor’s mind off of their night. If Romanced: There are all manner of ways for her to distract the Inquisitor, late in the night hours away from prying eyes. But when she can see in the Inky’s eyes how badly they are hurting, her favorite form of love comes out; SHARED PRANKS! Skyhold spent the next two weeks being terrorized by any and all manner of joke and prank, while Sera and the Inquisitor have never looked happier or more rested.

Vivienne: She cannot help but make a comment about how terrible the Inquisitor looks, and how important appearances can be, especially when dealing with the Chantry and them being the Herald of Andraste, after all! She makes them sit down for a spa day, and sends them back to their quarters with arms full of different sleeping aids, lotions for their face and eyes, and a book that Vivienne swears will put ANYONE who reads it to sleep, because of “how unbelievably droll” it is (It might or might not end up being Swords and Shields)

Blackwall: He has his own nights like that, where you wake up and just dont want to go back to sleep for fear of the nightmare returning. He asks them if they would want to help him with the horses, as it relaxes him taking care of them, and the two spend the night brushing the horses and harts, feeding the nugs and drakes, and talking about the universe and old war stories. If Romanced: After they get done taking care of the animals, Blackwall makes a nice, roaring fire, and he starts teaching the Inquisitor how to carve and whittle, making sure to touch and brush against them as often as possible, so they know that he is always there.

Iron Bull: He has a lot of nights like that on his own, and he’s seen the Charger’s experience more than a few. He offers to buy the Inquisitor a drink, and openly talks to them about how bad his are sometimes. He and whichever of the Chargers are awake end up sitting around in a circle, playing Wicked Grace and sharing stories, until everyone is smiling and looking more content as the sun comes up. If Romanced: When he feels them shaking next to him, Iron Bull rolls over, wraps his long arms around the Inquisitor, and pulls them to him. He rocks them just like that, with their head cradled against his chest, and begins to him an old song he remembers his Tamassran singing to him when he was young, and he feels the Inquisitor slowly fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, feeling more at home and loved than either of them ever has.

Dorian: He scoffs jokingly, talking about how much work it is to keep their eyes looking young when they dont sleep, but he steers them to his favorite chair in the library and makes sure they get comfortable. He pulls out books left and right, criticizing or complimenting, joking and laughing until the Inquisitor falls asleep, softly dozing in the chair, and Dorian cant help but smile as he pulls up a chair of his own next to them, determined to defend the rest of his friend. If Romanced: When they wake with a start, he rubs their back, speaking comfortingly in his language, and when he gets the Inquisitor calmed down, goes and grabs a book off of the table. He cradles them against his shoulder and begins to read to them, softly stroking their hair until they fall peacefully asleep, nestled against Dorian and listening to the rise of fall of his chest.

Cole: Fear, building and building, until all that’s left is a cloud of hurt and fog of pain. He can feel the Inquisitor’s pain, so he begins softly patrolling their dreams. Sometimes he and Solas trade off, but Cole is always watching to see if he can help the Inquisitor with their stress. They dont always know when he is doing it, but Cole makes sure to give that little push every now and then to help ease the Inquisitor’s stress and anxiety, that way they can sleep easier at night.

Bonus:

Leliana: She has many of her own nightmares, and she remembers how bad the Warden’s would get, especially when they got closer to ending the Blight. She offers to get the Inquisitor whatever they need; coffee to stay awake, or tea to help with sleep. But they spend many nights taking care of the ravens, letting them take their fears and worries up into the sky as they brush and feed them. It isn’t much, but it’s a strange sort of relaxing.

Josephine: She tuts softly, mentioning how the Inquisitor has way too much on their plate, and she begins shuffling meetings and tasks, trying to only bring things to the Inquisitor’s attention if it is absolutely necessary. The hope is that if she takes more off the Inquisitor’s mind, maybe they wont have as much to stress about before they are going to bed. If Romanced: It’s hard for her, but she tries to intentionally put down her own work and cuddle with the Inquisitor. The Inquisitor finds it relaxing to run their fingers through Josephine’s hair, so every time a nightmare happens, she softly brushed her hair and lets the Inquisitor run their fingers through it, sighing softly as the vestiges of the nightmare vanish into the night.

Cullen: He has a lot of his own, especially as he is going through Lyrium withdrawals. Often, he and the Inquisitor spend many nights walking the grounds, unable to sleep, or sparring to help get their tension out. The two became good friends, where they can go to each other in the middle of the night and the other will wake instantly and get up to walk and talk with them. If Romanced: He startles when the Inquisitor flips up, but he wraps his strong arms around them and murmurs to them how they are safe, they are here with him, and nothing is going to hurt them. Over and over, he softly whispers his reassurances against their soft skin, until he can feel their shaking subside and he can get them to lay down on his chest, cradled safely in his arms.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age companions #companion reactions #dragon age companion reactions #cassandra pentaghast #varric tethras #dragon age sera #Solas #dorian pavus #iron bull #dragon age cole #cullen rutherford #josephine montilyet #Leliana #blackwall #vivienne dragon age

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wingedcat13 · 1 year

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Synovus: A Wishing Star

[Canonically, this takes place before ‘Call Me Menace’ - which is why there’s a notable lack of Alexandria and Minerva in this segment. This was requested by an Anon, with the prompt of Synovus being asked for by a Make a Wish child, through the Make a Wish foundation.]

[Trigger warnings for childhood cancer, descriptions of illness and hospitals, and discussions of suicide. Reference is also made to the possibility of substance abuse. Unlike most of my writing, for this, I cannot promise you will find this ending happy.]

“Your name came up today,” Rosie called up to you, laboriously walking laps around the cafeteria.

“Of course it did.” You replied laconically, keeping a careful eye on her progress from a perch in the rafters. Your shadows were ready to catch and steady her if she stumbled, though you both pretended you were too occupied with your knitting. “I am an incredibly interesting person. On a completely unrelated note, tell Dr. Grouch that he will receive payment shortly.”

That wasn’t an epithet, ‘Dr. Grouch.’ It was genuinely the man’s name. Dr. Jeremy Grouch, a pediatric cancer specialist, who had the good fortune of being the best choice for you to kidnap when Rosie had finally told you why she’d been half-joking about retirement. He was no longer your ‘guest,’ having returned to the mainland full time a few weeks prior, but he still communicated with Rosie quite often.

A bark of laughter had Rosie pausing, out of breath, to brace herself against the wall. She turned to rest her back against it, but since she didn’t sit, you didn’t jump down to see if she was alright. Even if you had stopped knitting.

“Not for the money.” Rosie assured you, when she had caught her breath enough to reply without wheezing. “He thinks you’re more than generous.”

“Dr. Grouch could stand to live up to his name a bit more.” You tsk’ed, “I kidnapped him, forced him to work for me. He didn’t even haggle.”

Not that this would have done him much good in the beginning. Historically, you did not respond well to threats or extortion. But you did respect a good hustle, and you were fairly certain that Dr. Grouch had been aware he could’ve pushed for more of a reward once Rosie was declared in remission. He hadn’t taken the opportunity.

“He isn’t hurting for wealth.” Rosie pointed out. The sardonic note to her voice had made you smile. You and your minions were in the business of exploiting greed and committing evils, but that did not make any of you less inclined to judge others for anything less than your own morality demanded. And that often included each other.

But Rosie’s tone shifted, becoming something lighter, “He said one of his patients asked to meet you.”

“What?”

“One of his patients wants to meet you.” Rosie repeated patiently. “Wished for it, even.”

You forced your tone to remain light, glad you were up in the rafters where she couldn’t see your body language. “Well, there’s a rarity. How many people ever say ‘I wish to meet Synovus?’”

Rosie sighed. “Usually just people who want to kill you.”

“Are we certain that isn’t what the child wants? I’m assuming it’s a child, adults usually know better.” You picked up another stitch, fumbled it, did it again. This time it stuck.

It wasn’t the idea of a child trying to kill you that had you so… disoriented. You’d been responsible for the deaths of a lot of parents over the years - you wouldn’t be surprised if there had been hundreds of vendettas sworn against you, or all villain kind, or even the heroes who had failed to stop you, over the years. But kids - children - you had a soft spot for.

You remembered too clearly what it was like to be young, sheltered, and out of control of your life. It was debatable, some days, how much of that still applied to you in some way or another.

“I’d bet on the kid.” Rosie remarked.

“I-“ You twirled one knitting needle, intending to point it at her, and snagged it in the trailing end of your yarn instead. It didn’t matter, because she couldn’t see you. “- take offense on the child’s behalf that you would doubt them.”

“Oh yeah?” Rosie perked up, “Offended enough to defend their honor in person?”

Frowning, you set down your knitting again. “What are you asking me here, Rosie?”

“I want to know if you’ll honor the kid’s Wish.”

There was something in the way she said it that gave you pause. You mulled it over.

“When you say ‘wish,’ you don’t just mean a general expressed desire, do you.”

It wasn’t much of a question, but Rosie answered anyway, “Nope. I mean the Wish. Apparently they hadn’t wanted to say anything, because they didn’t think anyone would let them, but they were talking to Dr. Grouch, and asked where he’d been -“

You groaned. You’d been assured of his adherence to HIPAA, but hadn’t pushed too hard on the ‘never tell anyone where you’ve been, ever, on pain of excruciatingly over described death’ angle. Maybe you should’ve.

“- yeah, I know, but apparently he only told the kid and asked them to keep it a secret, and the kid ‘lit up like it was Christmas.’” Rosie relayed this information, complete with air quotes, without moving from the wall.

To avoid thinking about the idea of being anyone’s last, true Wish - the big W, the heart’s desire, the crown of a bucket list - you instead thought about how Rosie had trapped you. You couldn’t just disappear because then she’d be alone, and could still collapse. You couldn’t call her physical therapy completed for the day yet either, because she hadn’t finished this lap.

Evil, your minions. Absolutely evil.

You sighed, sure Rosie would feel it, even if she couldn’t hear it at this distance. “Very well.” You conceded, morose. “When are we meeting this little miscreant?”

—-

Hospitals were not easy for you to break into. Not when you were in costume, at least. You could get terrifyingly far in a white coat with a coffee cup and a clipboard, but that came down to timing and confidence and an aura of ‘fuck off, I am incredibly busy’ that you’ve always felt most doctors cultivated on purpose.

That didn’t really work when you were in all black with a cape and a helmet. And this was a children’s cancer ward, so it wasn’t like you could just wait till everyone went home. Windows didn’t open up here either.

So you’d had Dr. Grouch let you in from the helipad on the roof.

“You’ve taken the precautions I requested?” He asked, as you paused outside of the ward itself. “Fully clean, as you would have for Ms. Rosie? You will not touch anything you do not have to, and will call for assistance if she seems overwrought?”

“Yes, Dr. Grouch.” You replied, accepting another antiseptic wipe for your gloves. “I am here to answer a summons. That is all. I swear that your charge will not come to harm from me.”

You did not point out he had been the one to arrange this meeting. His face made a strange expression, as though he were surprised, and surprised at being surprised, and a bit disappointed in himself for that sequence of events. Still, he recovered quickly.

“At least I do not have to remind you to wear a mask.” He granted, in an attempt at levity. Luckily for you both, you didn’t actually need to reply, because he was already triggering the ward doors for you to enter.

While Grouch moved to the ward station, motioning to calm the various staff on duty, you moved with purpose for the room you’d been directed to earlier. Grouch was telling the staff that he’d found someone willing to stand in for you, as a way of reassuring them. You weren’t sure they’d buy it, but it really wasn’t your problem for the moment.

You moved quietly. You weren’t sure whether or which other rooms were occupied, and you didn’t intend to scare anyone who hadn’t requested to see you tonight. For that same reason, you double checked the number on the door you opened, and lifted it faintly on its hinges, that it would open smoothly and as silently as you could make it.

The room beyond was dim, if not completely dark. The corridor behind you was also dimmed for the night cycle, trying to give the ward’s occupants a chance at sleeping, though the ward station was still well-illuminated. You made sure its light wouldn’t give you a halo or shadow as you entered, and quietly shut the door behind yourself.

You aren’t familiar enough with hospitals to say whether this room is average or not. Tiled floors, the bed that is also a gurney, sparse furniture, windows on the far wall. There are signs of life here, in the form of some decaying flowers on the dresser, with several cards propped around their vase where the bed’s occupant can see. A television is mounted near the ceiling on an extendable arm, but it’s off for now.

There’s a few sources of dim light - the distant aura of the streetlights casts the bars supporting the windows on the wall across from the bed. A floor light illuminates the tile enough to show any potential tripping hazards. The odd blinking light on the medical equipment provides a dash of color to the gloom.

And in the bed, there is a lump curled on its side, as far as the IV line and monitors will allow it, blankets pulled tight over the shoulder and tucked near the chin. Dr. Grouch told you some basics about the patient before you reached this floor, so you know who you are supposed to be meeting. You feel bad for waking her, but you’ve been assured she doesn’t sleep well anyway, and is likely awake. Judging by the faint rustling of a body’s small movements, that judgement was accurate.

You are reminded of Dr. Grouch’s planned lie, out in the hall. You do not want this child to think they are being tricked. So you stay where you are, in the deeper shadow of the door-well, and you summon your shadows to life.

The window frame shadows make an excellent trellis for your branching additions - they stretch out, forming words in deeper darkness than the natural shadow from which they are woven. If you are mistaken, if this is the wrong room, if the girl sleeps, you won’t have disturbed them.

But you see the streetlight illuminate the planes of a too-sharp face as it turns to focus bleary eyes on what you’ve written.

Hello, Loralai.

At fourteen years old, Loralai should still have the roundness of youth. She does not. Nor is she quite skeletal, despite the advanced nature of her illness. It almost seems, in the half light, as though a slight push would be all that was necessary to send her in either direction: back to the hale softness of health, or further on to the sharp stillness of death.

She blinks. Her eyes widen, then narrow, then widen again. You belatedly wonder if perhaps she needs glasses. Or what if she’s dyslexic? Your shadow-words are hardly the easiest things to read. Damn it, Synovus, now is not the time for posturing and-

“Synovus?” Asks a breathless, whispering voice.

“In the flesh.” You reply, because you are a melodramatic moron. Still, your voice is quiet, and you remain unmoving.

There’s some more rustling. The bed is already mostly elevated, so Loralai doesn’t need to try and sit up so much as readjust how she’s sitting. There’s a click of a lamp - and then there’s a real light source in the room, even if it’s dulled by the lampshade.

You step forward as Loralai rubs the spots from her vision with one hand. There’s an IV catheter taped to the back of it from some recent event, the bruising around it just beginning to ripen. You don’t remember what that might mean, if anything.

As she gets her vision back and examines you, you turn your helmet, pretending to survey the room. Eyes bright with curiosity flick from the helmet to the cape to the patterns of padding over your torso. She does not seem scared, but then, why would she be? Dr. Grouch had informed you she was well aware her case was terminal. You may be a specter of death to some people, but this child has already started staring down the real thing.

“You are Loralai Weber?” You ask, turning back to face her directly.

She nods, leaning back against her pillows. You can see exhaustion on every line of her too-young face, but it seems not to have any power over her at the moment. “Yes. I didn’t think you’d actually come to see me.”

You gesture aimlessly, “I am not often asked for.” You reply candidly. “You’ve piqued my interest. And.. one could say I was in the neighborhood.”

Loralai’s expression brightens, “Are you going to attack the hospital?”

You frown. The prospect seems to excite her. Still, you keep your voice casual, noncommittal, “Not tonight, at least.”

“Damn.” Loralai sounds disappointed now. You muffle your amusement at her cursing as she continues, “Any time soon, maybe? Like, in the next week?”

She can’t see you raise your brows, so you tilt your head to one side, “You sound almost hopeful, Ms. Weber. Why could that be?”

Loralai averts her gaze for a moment, plucking slowly at the top blanket of her bed. This is the moment of truth, really. You spent hours trying to figure out what you might be asked for:

Could you kill someone for her? A doctor, a nurse, another patient who was really annoying? Or could you attack the hospital, so she could help you wreak havoc, and have the chance to feel as powerful as a Villain? Alternatively, what if she were the one to stop you? You were dreading the deathbed request that you ‘turn good,’ but that doesn’t seem to be forthcoming. Maybe she simply wishes to witness a hero battle up close, and needs you to initiate it. Or-

“I want you to kill me.”

You freeze. Most of you, anyway, as your stomach seems to have left out the ground floor entrance. You had not anticipated this. You feel like you should have.

Remorseless for your shock, Loralai continues, managing to look directly at your helmet face as her words spill over each other, “I know I’m dying, and that I don’t have long left, but I’ve been dying for months, and I just feel worse and worse every day, and I - I want to die fast, not slow. I want it to be over. You - you could make it quick for me, couldn’t you?”

You have not been inclined towards religion for a very long time. Yet, in this moment, you see the appeal of dropping to your knees and offering a fervent prayer of gratitude to whoever or whatever might be listening that you gave Dr. Grouch your word in the hall. You do not want to answer Loralai’s question, or know what your answer would be. You refuse to acknowledge the burgeoning answer within you.

The horror of it all still threatens to overwhelm you. The shadows in the room thicken, automatically reaching for you to provide shelter from unfortunate truths and uncomfortable conversation. This is why she asked for you. Because you are evil. Because you are terrible enough to meet a child face to face and kill them at their own request. Because you are not beholden to law, morality, or sympathy.

The black pit of despair yawns, and it is only by the barest shred of your willpower that you stay out of it - as awful as you feel in this moment, as much as you know you have only delayed your own suffering, the fact remains: you are not the one dying here.

It does not matter how you feel, looking at someone younger than you were when you finally found freedom, and knowing they will never reach the same age, the same feeling. It does not matter how you feel about their request. Loralai Weber sits in a hospital bed, terminal at 14 years old, and she is suffering badly enough to seek the Scourge of the West Coast.

So you scrape yourself together, and move to the end of her bed.

“May I sit?”

Loralai nods, brow still furrowed, and shuffles her feet so you can avoid accidentally sitting on them. You perch there, partially leaning on the rail at the foot of the bed, and watch her for a long moment.

“Yes.” You say, finally. “I could make your death swift. There is little you could do to stop me.”

You have Loralai’s undivided attention. When you stop speaking, she waits. The clearer it becomes that you will not say more, the further her face falls. “Could.” She says tonelessly. “But won’t.”

“No.” You confirm quietly. “I will not.”

“Why?” Loralai cries. She tries to gesture to herself, to the room that she’s in. “You’ve killed so many people! What’s one more to you? Why not me? Is it - do you want me to suffer, is that it? Would this be too merciful for you?”

You let her yell, and gesture, even when she comes within several inches of you. “No, Loralai. I do not want you to suffer. But nor do I think this would be an act of mercy.” You avoid addressing the issue of your body count.

Loralai looks offended and confused, gaping at you for a moment. “Does this look like a life worth living?” She demands.

Your answer is without hesitation, “Yes.”

The girl’s face contorts with incredulity, then despair, then anger. Her eyes are increasingly red-rimmed, and there’s a wet quality to her wavering voice when she responds, “Fuck you.”

Grimly, you brace yourself for much worse before the night is over. She hasn’t ordered you out yet, so you have to attempt to explain. Even if you cannot give her what she wants, you can be an outlet for her anger, and the face she cannot show to her doctors.

“There are cards on the dresser.” You point out.

“Classmates I’ve never even met.” Loralai responds flatly.

“Flowers, too.”

“Another parent bought some for the whole floor after their kid bit it. It’s a pity gift to make them feel better, nothing to do with me.”

“You still have family.”

“So they should get the honor and joy of watching me die? Paying a fortune for every extra hour I sit here and wait for it to be my turn?”

“It is worth it, to them.” You explain, matter-of-fact. “Every penny. Every extra shift. Every loan. Every night on your fold-out couch. How did you convince your mother not to be here tonight?”

Loralai flinches. “She has a bad back.” She mutters, “She - it’s better for her to be home, in a real bed. And so what if it’s worth it to them? What if it’s not worth it to me? Can’t I choose how and when I die?”

You sigh, “If that were true, the world would be full of immortals. And suicides. You realize that is what you asked of me, yes? An assisted suicide?”

Loralai draws back at the word, but doesn’t deny it. “It’s not like it would be anything new for you.”

The truth of that statement is painful. For a moment, you hear a distant ringing with no physical source. You are acutely aware of the shadows in this room - their patterns under the bed, on the wall, the sky behind the window, in the spaces under your skin-

“I am not your tool.” You rasp, before remembering that Loralai couldn’t possibly know about your past. She is a teenager. A hurt one. They always have a gift for striking true, even when they lash out blindly.

You take a deep breath, and suppress the shadows again. You don’t want to know how far up your arms they reached before you regained your senses. “And I will not be baited into killing you either. You are right - I’ve killed. Plenty. I will again. But I do so for my own reasons, and not because someone asks me to. You asked for me by name, Ms. Weber, out of all of the villains on the West Coast, so I’m guessing you know that.”

Loralai opens her mouth to respond - then looks away.

“You have every right to be angry.” You continue into the silence, “With me, with the people around you. With the doctors and nurses for how often they check in and the poking and prodding they do. With the kitchen for the quality of the hospital food. With your parents for not sparing you this life, or being overbearing in their concern, or not being able to balance what it is you really need.”

You pause. Loralai doesn’t respond. You continue, “I would be angry. I would be furious with every car that passed by and honked its horn, because I’m stuck up here dying, and they only care about the stupid traffic. And I would be even more angry about the fact I can’t tell anyone that without becoming the bad guy, who can’t take their situation with grace.”

“But you won’t kill me.” Loralai says finally, “Before I do something I regret. Or become a husk of myself.”

This time, it’s your turn to remain silent. Loralai turns to look at you, even if she can’t find your eyes in the mask. She’s crying now, but so far managing to hold off actual sobs, “Why can’t I be selfish? Just once?”

You offer her your hands, and aren’t surprised or offended when she doesn’t take them.

“You should be selfish.” You tell her, and the ferocity in your voice takes her aback. “You should be as selfish and greedy as you can. You should seize every moment - every conversation with your parents, every breath of conditioned air, every chance you get to actually smile. Even if you only get one more of those, Loralai, it’s one more than you would get if I did what you’ve asked. Dying isn’t selfish. It isn’t selfless either. It just is, the same way taxes are due and commercials always take too long and the drivers outside your window have road rage. It’ll happen whether you want it to or not. Don’t lean into it.”

Converse to your own advice, you lean towards Loralai, adding, “Kick the bastard in the balls.”

On reflex, she gives you a confused, watery half-smile.

“Yes!” You cry, as though this is a great victory. “Just like that! Rip and tear your joy from the universe.”

That wins you a snort - though the amusement doesn’t last.

“I’m not strong enough to do that.” Loralai deflects, turning a hand over in your general direction. “I’m not like you. I can’t literally steal happiness from - banks, or whatever it is you rob.”

“Banks.” You admit, “Though usually their corporate offices instead of the average buildings. Irrelevant, however: how many of my fights do you actually see me win?”

Loralai frowned. “Uh….”

You don’t leave her hanging long, “It depends on your definition of ‘victory’ really - but if I count it like the heroes do, where a victory is when I have my opponent in my custody, I haven’t won a single fight in over ten years. My track record is abysmal.”

(This is not strictly true - but it does count for your fights with heroes. Interpersonal villain matters you handle rarely make the news.)

“So, what, you’re bad at your job?” Loralai says bluntly, sarcasm tingeing her voice.

“I’m fantastic at my job.” You can’t help the rebuttal, it’s too much in your nature. “Because even if I don’t take down the hero who comes after me - and let’s face it, they’ll keep sending them endlessly, it’s exhausting - I still do what I set out to do. Sometimes that’s steal something. Kill someone. Make a scene. On bad days, just get out and away. And if you use that metric, well, darling, my track record is spectacular.”

Loralai considers this for a moment, staring into the middle distance between you. It’s impossible to figure out what she’s actually thinking of.

“Your metaphors suck.”

Well okay then. “My metaphors are elegant contrivances -“ You give up when Loralai gives you a look, and sigh instead.

Still, what you’ve said seems to have made some difference. Loralai has stopped crying, and she doesn’t feel as.. raw, as before. You hope it’s the right kind of difference, and that you haven’t just chased her further into a shell. You wait for her to break the silence again.

“So you think I should live, for the people around me?” She challenges, indicating the flowers and cards. You both know that’s only a fragment of your argument, but you’re willing to play ball.

“Nope.” You reply succinctly. “I think you should live for you and your own experiences. However, I think you are currently in a position where you have to see your joys in others before you can see them for yourself. If they anchor you, use it.”

She’s staring at you now, expression unreadable. “And you think that will get better.”

You almost answer ‘yes’ - but you know that isn’t quite what she’s asking. There’s a second half to that statement that is a question, left unspoken: ‘will it get better before I die?’

And for all of your lies, you answer her honestly. “I don’t know.”

Loralai nods. You want to clarify, to explain that even a chance is a chance worth taking. You want to give her some of your own rage at the world, the defiance that makes it possible to simply refuse to die. The conviction that let you kill a god.

No, maybe not that. You’re not sure that would be a blessing after all.

“Okay.” She says, after several moments. “Fine. I get to live. For now. But when I die -“ Loralai’s attention abandons the far wall and the middle distance, zeroing in on you, “- if my life gets any worse between now and then, if I don’t get any more good stuff like you’ve described, I’m haunting you.”

You believe her. “I believe you.” You say solemnly. “And there are few things in this world more terrifying than a teenage ghost. No, that isn’t sarcasm, I’m serious. Once-“

—-

You spend the rest of the hour telling stories of the teenaged ghost you’d met once in New Orleans, back when that wasn’t quite anyone’s territory. It’s not nearly enough time to share all of her stories - but it is enough that you remember her fondly, and smell the faint scent of bergamot and citrus that always heralded her presence.

When you spoke to her more regularly, you teased her about being a ghost who smelled like Irish Spring, and she ensured your cape got caught on everything it possibly could. You feel a tug on it, as you are moving to leave, and understand the prompt.

“Here.” You tell Loralai, unclasping your cape from your shoulders, and draping it over the bed.

“Does this have magic powers, or something? Is it bulletproof?” Loralai lifts it’s edge, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. She’s in higher spirits, but the bags under her eyes have deepened. She’s also cold, though you don’t think you’d be able to get her to admit it.

“Nah.”

“Then why would I want it?” Remarkable, how little your status matters to teenagers. You aren’t sure if it’s your curse or a trait of the species.

“Capes are cool.” You reply confidently.

There are other reasons too - it gives your ghost friend an anchor to stay with her better, it’s warm, it will remind her this wasn’t a dream. If her family needs to, they can sell it to cover some of the medical bills, since (unlike some heroes and villains) you rarely leave a trace behind, and collectors would love to get ahold of one of your capes. Actually, Tallflawes might even buy it at an exorbitant price, just to taunt you with it. But this isn’t a lie: capes are cool.

“Whatever.” Loralai says sleepily, resting back on her pillows, your cape tucked up under her chin. “Goodbye, Synovus.”

“Goodbye, Loralai Weber.” You say gently. You aren’t sure if she even notices your shadows flip the switch on the bedside lamp, returning the room to darkness. Your shadows muffle your exit back into the hall.

You leave as quickly as possible, after that.

—-

The good thing about being a dramatic fool on purpose, is that when you are having a public meltdown, it can appear as though you are simply performing again. The shadows contorting and swirling around you? Ah, Synovus, making an entrance. Disappearing between one blink and the next to the unobservant, because you’ve turned and booked it into the dark? A classic exit.

Your minions know you too well for that facade to hold. They also know you too well to ask.

You stalk down the halls, lights seeming to ripple in your wake with the amount of shadows you’re dragging, like a toddler with their blanket on their way to throw a tantrum. But you skip the training room. You wind up in the kitchen, as Oflok watches from a distance.

You spend an indeterminable amount of time staring at the collection of alcohol. You don’t indulge, because you are terrified of what might happen if you lose control of yourself. You know you are a walking bomb. Your minions can partake as they like, however, and today, reminded of how destructive you are, you want very badly to join them. To get wasted beyond memory.

“I want you to kill me.”

You get as far as reaching up one hand for a bottle. You don’t know which, you didn’t bother to read the labels. You lower your hand. Spin on your heel. And leave.

—-

It’s Rosie and Doll who hover in the corner, silent witnesses while you dig through the cabinets in the infirmary. You grab the first ampoule of a drug that looks like it would force you out of your mind that you can get your hands on. You have a tray laid out with syringe, bandages, tourniquet, disinfectant wipes, before you realize what you’re doing.

“Does this look like a life worth living?”

You walk out without a word.

—-

The grave at the bottom of the island is not well tended. It is not a monument to be remembered. This is the third time you have visited it since you stopped obsessively checking for signs of disturbances, in case it’s occupant decided to crawl back out.

You tell the empty space about Loralai Weber. What she looked like, what she asked of you, what that means. This time, you’re free to cry, though whether it’s for her or yourself, you’ll never be able to parse. By the end, you are screaming in the dark cave, knowing it’s all pointless at this stage in the game.

The man in the grave could heal himself, when he wanted. And very rarely, when he was convinced it was ‘appropriate,’ he could heal others too. He wouldn’t have counted Loralai Weber as ‘appropriate’ for his gift. You would. It doesn’t matter, though.

It’s the one part of his powers you never inherited.

—-

[Thank you for reading Synovus: A Wishing Star - if you want to read more of Synovus, you can find the rest of their stories on my blog, in the pinned post. Further, if you want to find out more about the Make A Wish Foundation, you can read stories of children they've helped (in rather different ways than Synovus) on their website, or donate here.]

[I do not have a personal story to share for Loralai's inspiration. However, I did tap into my experiences as a chronically ill individual, and the mental state I experienced both before and during treatment. There are still days I wonder as Loralai does - but I wholeheartedly believe as Synovus says: This life is worth living. It is for you too.]

#synovus #synoverse #Synovus: A Wishing Star #tw cancer #please dm me if you feel additional tags are necessary!#reader discretion advised #tw suicidal ideation #tw implied child death #tw self destructive behavior

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ctheathy · 9 months

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I'm meat munching Secret history tails rn.. could I request a secret history tails x Hyper cuddly! Reader a reader who is just very hyper definitely not allowed to have coffee but there looks are deceiving and They know how to fight really well so let's just say somebody tries to fight them and they just Kick there Butt and there completely whipped for tails- Like they would do anything he tell them to do kinda like harley quinn with the joker The reader just joins in on his Chaos sometimes or if he just tells them to hand him stuff they would do it in a heartbeat

Secret History Tails w/ Hyper cuddly!Darling

Secret History Tails x Reader

Fluff Headcanons

Short Concept

Mmm smegsy lipbite😏

Author’s note : HA! Gotta love pampering this unstable a$$ fox. Let’s just not add in on the toxic dynamic between Harley and the Joker, though😭 you two are wholesome babey’s with one another on this blog.

This is malewife x girlboss dynamic fr.

The request had it stated, but in case anybody just so happened to miss it, SH Tails from There’s Something About Amy was chosen

SH Tails/Reader [Romantic]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

Amy’s brainwashing is mentioned •

୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.

Right off the bat, he just doesn’t understand how he got so lucky to end up with somebody such as yourself. To him, you truly are like an angel. And he doesn’t behave indifferently about that fact either. You’re like an absolute sunshine in comparison to the horrors they call the multiverse, as if you are the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. He praises you to no end as he covers you in tender and passionate kisses, gently holding onto you as you make your ways through the multiverse. I can see TSAA Tails being a lot more mentally available and composed rather than his past self back in Secret Histories. He’s more mature now and has complete control over the situation you currently find yourselves in, making him slightly less vulnerable. He oftentimes tries to brush off your acts of service, telling you it’s not necessary at all-! You’re his beloved, after all. But he cannot help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside whenever you do manage to get the job done for him. But due to his determined nature, he tends to give you back a favour for your own self every single time.

Despite the fact that you might have enough control over your surroundings and are physically prepared and capable when it comes to self defense besides the potential threats, Tails cannot help but remain the same overprotective fox that he always has been. He’ll allow you to take the reins, but not without quietly observing from a distance, keeping a close eye on you and jump in at a moment’s notice when he notices one single hint of struggle. He doesn’t wish to underestimate your strength, knowing it has the capability of upsetting you, but he wants you safe so.damn.badly. The man wouldn’t know what on Mobius to do with himself if he allowed you to get hurt in one way or another.

He most likely just lets out a singular chuckle of his own at your hyper demeanour and allows you to cling to him with no hesitance. You truly are an endearing soul in his eyes. And how you’re so dead set on keeping him in high priority and ensure his safety wherever you both go, it truly just results in him being all wrapped around your little finger if you look deeper into it. And despite the risk of his position, he completely allows it to happen too. He trusts you with all his might and the things you do for him among the dimensions only makes that devotion grow even stronger. I could for example see you protecting the fox with your life whenever you both end up in a world that hold an endangered environment. You just insist and ensure he stays in the back while you deal with the little issue yourself, leaving him to stare in awe at your form in combat.

I certainly believe you’d get along with Amy quite a lot aswell. Especially when being in similar positions when it comes to travelling through the multiverse and often needing Tails to guide you two through the place, the both of you are able to relate a lot on your current conditions. You did feel a little bad for letting Amy be brainwashed like she had been though, but then again, it was what he desired for the quest after all. And regrettably saying, your priorities just seem to find themselves in the wrong direction. You try your best to not let the dimensions get to your head, but it can become hard due to just how much your companions alone have been caught up in it over the course of time.

୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧୭ ˚○◦˚.

#secret history tails #mashed tails #sh tails #secret history tails x reader #tails x reader #yandere tails #sonic x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #yandere tails x reader #sonic the hedgehog

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love-toxin · 2 years

Text

knowing me, knowing you - eddie munson & steve harrington

plot: new boyfriends eddie and steve overhear jason trying to ask angelface out, and they know they have to rescue you--not just because they're your friends, but because they can't let him steal you away from them and hurt you...even if you're not theirs, yet.

cws: established steddie, hurt/comfort, throuple, tw: homophobia, derogatory use of 'queer', bullying, threats, manipulation, jason's a huge dickhead, protective steve, mild violence, confessions, jealousy, threeway mutual pining, friends to lovers, eddie pov, fem reader.

word count: 2.6k

"...So we should go on a date, then. I'll take you to dinner."

Eddie sidles up quietly against the wall, risking a peek around the corner to check before he waves Steve over. Yep, Wheeler was right–there you are, leaning against the school outside with Jason fucking Carver, who cannot physically get any closer to you without it being considered a felony.

"No shit," Steve pokes his head out over his boyfriend's, whispering incredulously because Eddie knows he can't believe it either. Of course, the one person in the school that they both despise the most is making a move on you. Steve rubs Eddie's shoulder, hoping to soothe him as the two of them watch from their position of relative safety.

"Um, aren't you…aren't you and Chrissy..?" Jason shakes his head at you, but he's still smiling like he's still got it all under control.

"Nah, she…I heard she's been sleeping around. So I dumped her–girls like that aren't worth it. Not like you."

"That's not true!" Eddie whispers–he knows Chrissy, she's a sweet girl, and she definitely dumped him because he made one too many awful comments about her appearance. What a fucking liar. But he maybe says it a touch too loudly, because Jason's brow raises and just as he turns to look around, Steve grabs Eddie by the collar and yanks him back around the wall to hide. But once they hear you start talking again, they both slowly sneak a peek once more, knowing that Jason's eyes will be on you and you alone.

"Thank you, uh, I'm flattered, but…"

"But? Is there a but? C'mon, just one date." Such a pushy bastard, it's annoying enough to Eddie, but looking up he can see that Steve's practically got steam coming out of his ears. You fidget with your sleeve, the bag slung over your shoulder swaying as you do so while you try not to look him directly in the eye. "You're so cute when you get shy. C'mon, babe."

Oh, that "babe" is almost enough for Eddie to go fucking berserk, and he can feel that Steve is feeling the same–but they both agreed not to intervene unless it was totally necessary. They might be totally whipped for you, but they're not your babysitters and they both know that if they start acting like it, you'll just end up resenting them. Plus, the three of you are good friends right now, and you're one of the very few that doesn't think them dating is weird or somehow related to the devil, so to mess that up would result in a lot of nights moping around and watching sad movies in each other's laps that neither of them are emotionally prepared for at the moment.

"Y'know, we could even do some more stuff if you wanted…a little birdie told me that you have yet to lose something." You look scared. This is nowhere near good. Steve's hand digs into his shoulder, hard.

"Um…I-I…"

"It's okay to be inexperienced, babe. I can show you how to do it…show you how to make love. You can trust me–even if that's all you want, I'll let you use me for it." How manipulative can he be? Eddie knows there's no way you would ever do something like that, but he can also see now that Jason really just wants to get into your pants. Figures, he doesn't deserve your kindness or any part of you, so he's just scraping to get whatever he can, like a rat–and it gets worse when Jason starts touching your face, trying to get you to look at him. Steve quietly growls a "don't" from above him, kind of like a dog getting territorial. It's kinda hot, if he's being honest…focus. He has to focus.

"I'm not a virgin,"

You finally breathe, your eyes flicking up to meet the blond's whose hand is still on your chin.

"And you're not my type. Sorry." You gently push his hand away, and wait with shaky hands for him to back off. But both Eddie and Steve's anger increases when he just dips his face closer to you, almost like he's gonna kiss you–Eddie has to put a hand on Steve's chest to stop him from lunging forward, whispering a "Stevie, calm down!" quiet enough that neither you nor Jason notice while you're in your own little world.

"What do you mean by that? Explain it to me, so I can understand." His voice is low, but angry, fury simmering just below the surface like he's close to blowing up. But if he thinks he can just intimidate you into doing what he wants, then he's got another thing coming.

"What…What is there to explain? You're a bully. You're cruel. I saw what you did to Gareth's hand," Your brow furrows–god, you're so pretty when you're mad–and Eddie finds himself breathless as you raise your hand to your chest and push him, just hard enough for Jason to take a step back with an incredulous look on his face. "And you're always calling my friend a freak."

"Who, Munson? He is a freak! Why would you even want to be friends with someone like him? You're too good for that."

"No, I'm too good for you." Jason just shakes his head in disbelief, a scoff on his lips. Eddie's chest is so tight, heart beating so fast at the protectiveness in your voice as you say his name. "Eddie's my friend. He's sweet, and he would do anything for his friends. He's nothing like you–and that's why I like him."

You like him. He's on cloud nine right now, he wouldn't even notice if the world was ending. All his dreams are coming true, even if he never imagined Jason would be involved with them at all.

"You like that queer? Are you fucking serious?"

"Shut up! You're a cunt, Jason!" You shove him again, hard this time, your words spit with venom and your fists shaking with anger. But he's so proud of you for stepping away, you're so mature, and you don't even look back at him as you start walking towards the side of the building where they're hiding–until you stop suddenly, and Eddie realizes that Jason's grabbing you by the wrist to drag you back to him.

"You do not walk away from me, you understand that?!"

"Let go of me! I'm gonna tell-" Jason slaps a hand over your mouth, and yanks you close enough that your faces are only a few inches from each other. Too close.

"Who's gonna believe you?" Your eyes widen, and it is far past the last straw. Steve is shouldering past him and dashing towards the scene before Eddie even realizes he's gone from his side.

"Hey!"

With the kind of strength that befits a former high school athlete, Steve runs up and wedges himself between you two so he can shove Jason off, breaking his grip and sending him stumbling back while your friend stands protectively over you. You look a little dazed, confused, but when Eddie hustles over to take your arm in his and soothe you, it sets in that you're safe and you gladly melt into his embrace. You're so warm, and you're scared, but…he just can't help thinking about how soft you feel against his chest.

"You touch her again, and I'll make sure you regret it."

"The fuck are you doing here, Harrington?" Jason spits, flushed and clearly jumped up from getting interrupted. Eddie doesn't even want to think about what would have happened if Wheeler hadn't tipped them off, what Jason might have done to you if they weren't here–but if he somehow wasn't sure before that he always wants to be there for you, then he absolutely does now.

"Oh, y'know, hanging out. Seeing some old friends. Defending pretty girls against creepy douchebags. Whatever strikes my fancy." Jason's eyes slide over to Eddie, who feels and probably looks a lot braver with Steve in between them. He can feel you tense up against him when Steve says that, and he pulls his arms tighter around you to hug you closer. It's relieving to feel that you're comfortable with him, enough that you're clinging to his jacket and subtly nuzzling even deeper into him.

"What was that you said, again? 'Who's gonna believe you'? I think the school counselor would love to hear that. Probably would have to let the basketball coach know, though. And you can say bye bye to the rest of the season." Steve sounds so confident when he's ripping him apart, it's honestly kind of…well, it's not something you might find attractive, but Eddie certainly does, and by the awed look in your eyes he can sense that you feel the same. "Gimme a reason, dude, cause I would love to kick your ass right now."

Jason looks between all three of you, frustrated and wounded by the blow Steve's managed to deal him, but the intensity only lasts a couple seconds. Because before long, he's made his choice, and he brushes you all off and stalks away with his hands shoved in the pockets of his letterman jacket.

"Oh, Jason! Almost forgot!" Both you and Eddie are surprised to see him actually stop and turn his head when Steve calls out to him, his glare violent enough that all three of you can almost feel the holes burning through you. "You ever get near my boyfriend again, or Hellfire, or her, I'll rip you many, many new ones. You just gimme the word, big boy."

Jason says nothing, just spits, and gives all three of you the finger which Steve gladly returns before he turns and disappears through the door into the school. By the time Steve moves to walk back towards you two, Eddie's loosened his hug to let you slip out, but you're still clutching at his arm like it's a pier in a storm.

"Don't be scared, honey. You're okay." Steve affectionately rubs your head, ruffling your hair a bit in the process. But he's a lot more gentle than when he does it to Dustin or the other kids, careful, and fortunately so when you've still got such a disturbed expression.

"I..I thought he was gonna.."

"He won't. Stevie's got us–look how strong he is." Eddie smiles over at you, and rubs the hand you've got gripping his sleeve so you can feel his rings against your skin.

"Did you, um…I don't know how much you heard of that.."

"Well, we got to hear you call him a cunt. That was fun." Your eyes turn back to Eddie, big and doe-like, and god, there's rarely been a time he's wanted to kiss you more than he does right now. "...And I heard what you said about me."

Fear strikes across your face, and you quickly avert your gaze from him like it's too much to even meet his eyes. He hates how shaky you still are, even when the danger has passed–he never wants you to be afraid of him, scared of what he's gonna say next. Ever.

"I-I…Eddie, I…I don't want to ruin what we have. And I…Steve, I'm sorry I-" Your voice is trembling, and even though your head is turned away he can clearly tell you're on the brink of tears. But that's when Steve pipes up, a hand brushing your cheek as he guides you to look up at him.

"You had a crush on me, right?" You stutter, taken aback by his query, but he just keeps going. "You were younger, I remember. I was a senior. You used to wear your hair like,"

He motions around his head, trying to charade his way into describing it before his hands land on his hips.

"Like that. It was cute."

Eddie knows you're not nearly as close with Steve–you would definitely be considered friends, but you mostly know Harrington through him and you haven't spent much time together alone. Before they started going out, that fact would relieve him. He didn't even know that you and Steve knew each other before you all started hanging out.

"Listen, Eddie's not gonna say it, but he likes you. And I like you. And from what I can tell, you might feel the same. So," He raises both hands up to show he's being vulnerable, and steps around you to stand closer to Eddie's side. "If you don't, that's totally cool. We can pretend none of this happened–but if you do, and you don't mind sharing, well…we can stop running after you like lost puppies to make sure you're okay."

You're speechless, clearly. Your eyes dart from one boy to the next, searching for some sign that they're gonna burst into laughter and admit that it was all an elaborate prank. But all Eddie does is keep stroking your hand, until you slowly release it from his jacket and let him take hold of it.

"Is…this really happening? This isn't a dream, right?" You're the one who's incredulous now, and the two of them look between each other as a spark of fear ignites. It's just now occurring to Eddie and his boyfriend both that they might have made a huge mistake by saying this right now.

"I…y'know what, now I'm thinking this might have been a bad time to say all that. I'm sorry, I just, seeing you scared like that-"

"Did you mean it?" You interrupt Steve's near-frantic babbling, your eyes now intense in a way that Eddie has to mentally slap himself to not find as incredibly hot.

"Well yeah, of course. We mean it, right Eds?"

"Damn right." You look between the two of them. Are you still questioning, he wonders? Will you walk away, thinking they were liars this whole time, just waiting for a chance to make fun of you?

"Do you…wanna get some dinner?" Only now does your question come out as meek, soft, just like the absolute goddess that first came to Eddie to ask if you could get something from the theatre while Hellfire club was in session. He still remembers that day so fondly, the way the club members teased him for how gently he spoke to you and how he paused the game for a whole ten minutes just to explain what they were doing to you. And the first time you got frustrated with him, yelled at him for something stupid he did that he doesn't even remember anymore, and how whipped he realized he was when he witnessed how forceful you were when you were worried about him.

"Oh, like…now?" Steve's voice breaks him from his reverie, he didn't even realize he was staring at you, or that your eyes flicked over to stare right back.

"Yeah." You bite your lip. Mercy.

"Yes," Eddie sighs, his eyes totally fixated on you, like he's already lovesick. "Anywhere you want. I'll pay for yours."

"Think again, Munson. Keep your money, I'll cover everyone's. C'mon, beautiful." He snaps his fingers in front of Eddie's face to bring him back to reality, drawing a giggle out of you in the process as he loops an arm around your waist and leads you away towards his car. He might have been left behind, if he wasn't still holding your hand–you give him a tug to pull him along with you, and he hurries up to walk on your opposite side from Steve.

It might be impossible to tell what's gonna happen next, what you're gonna say when you all sit down at a booth at the diner and have the conversation that he's been waiting so long to have–but it doesn't matter, none of it does. Because all those nights of lying awake with Stevie and talking to each other about you, about how perfect it would be to pull you into their little universe with them…now, it might be possible for it to all come true. There's a chance. And that's more than either of them could ever ask for from an angel like you.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader x steve harrington #steve x reader x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie #eddie's angelface #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #st 4 #stranger things #ellie writes #2k

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pininghermit · 11 months

Text

Dare I Desire (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Adrian x Male Reader

AN: this story has chapters of varying length but that's just my adhd for you all. Thanks for reading!

One moment you were smiling at the Dhampir in front of you and the next you were lunging to avoid the long sword that was hurled at you.

Hurled a sword! Adrian hurled a sword at you!

And that was not the first attack. Right after that came a series of never-ending attacks that left you on your toes. Jumping over the cabinets, knocking down jars (which was quite sorrowful even for you who cannot consume them).

You parkoured your way around the storage but the vicious blade did not leave you alone. You evaded its every move without a single retaliation. It followed your every move. Ready to find a misstep on your end. In the middle of the chaos stood Adrian. Unmoving and unmoved by anything.

The only expression on his face was a concentrated frown. The dhampir’s eyes followed your every step, leading the sword to you with unbeatable precision. For a half-vampire, he was fast, faster than many of your pure-blooded kin.

“If you call this menace of the sword back,” you tried addressed Adrian who did not deem you any attention. Uncaring, you continued you knew Adrian could hear you clearly and well. “We can actually talk and I’ll gladly tell you my reason for being here.” Still running from the sword you dodged a strike aimed at you. The sword paused only for a second for it to continue back again.

“Believe me if I meant any harm to you, cleaning the castle would not be my first strategy,” you said as you crawled under the sprawled furniture. “Just give me a chance. Just one chance. Hmm?”

The room felt silent and from your hiding spot, your could see the sword that now lingered in the air still prowling for you. If this continued, you might as well forget about a conversation, Adrian seemed intent to kill you before you even got to introduce yourself.

You did not breathe as you moved further into the shadows. Adrian was swift but you...you have powers of your own. Some of which you did not wish to use. You would rather take the sword than do that to your mate.

You hid and tried to come up with a way to invoke your bond. Something, anything that would bring it to Adrian’s conscience. From the link of their bond you could sense your mate’s anxiety and it shook you to the core when you felt fear seep through. It was wrong…completely wrong for your mate to fear you. The voice in your head snapped at you to make it right. To take away the fear and reassure your mate. But how could you when you were the reason?

“Were the corpses outside not enough of a warning to venture in?” Adrian interrupted your thoughts. His voice was so tense that you could sense the noise of his teeth gritting together. “Come out before I find you!” The threat rang out in the room.

Anxiety, fear, and anger clouded your mind. The walls of the room caved in on you as the wave of emotions crashed through your mind. Your conscience urging you to protect your mate but from whom? Yourself? Like an avalanche, self-hatred hit you greater than any attack.

With snap, in motions so quick that even the dhampir could not notice you, you flung yourself at Adrian. You both needed to snap out of it and a sudden tumble was all your instinct-ridden brain could fathom. The growing cloud of dark vanished and your brain cleared in the midst of their fall.

You saw Adrian’s eyes widen in shock as you took in the fall. You also noticed the fangs, the claws, and the subtle frown of concentration that your mate got when he controlled his sword. Noticing the approaching floor you extended your hand to support Adrian’s head by cushioning it from the floor. You wove your fingers through the golden hair and cupped your hand behind Adrian’s head just as you both hit the cold hard floor. A small touch that narrowed your world left the dhampir strained. His body so tense that in that millisecond where you fell, you heard the clang of the sword falling on the ground.

Flashes of binding, of fear, of scars, and of pain paralyzed you. Shame, guilt, a rage so potent that it overwhelmed all the voices of reason. Alcohol, blood, fire, ash pulse into the bond, and your mind replayed every memory mingled with the sentiment behind it. Patricide…he should have died…he should have let them kill him. Monster, killer he was no savior from the lore. The voice in your mind crumbled into whimpers.

No, no, no, no, no…

“ADRIAN!” You shook Adrian whose eyes held a dazed look as his mind continued spiraling.

“ADRIAN, listen to me!” You call for him as you push your mind into another memory. The one you wanted to share but not in this manner. So, you will your mind to the valleys of your home, the streets, the shops, the people, the forests. You imagine your family, your siblings, and all the good you have ever experienced.

And the gloom fades away. You open your eyes to find golden ones staring back at you. Devoid of emotion yet, full of curiosity.

“Who are you?” Adrian whispers as he continues to stare up at you from his position.

“Your mate,” you answer with a smile as the sun filters through the windows.

#alucard #alucard x reader #castlevania #bottom alucard #top reader #adrian tepes x reader #mates au #castlevania alucard

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theodora3022 · 1 year

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Shiny New Toy

Summary: Madame Sandrone has taken a special interest in you, while cleaning up her deceased colleague's belongings.

A/N: A Spontaneous little drabble I wrote after seeing this concept...Have never tried writing female Yandere before, hope this does not suck :(

Courtesy to @deceitful-darlings for letting me use this concept!

Content warnings: Content warnings: OOC (character is not shown in game yet, I HC her to be from Fontaine, IF YOU DO NOT LIKE THIS HC Please do not click read more), threats of violence, bodily harm, mentions unethical experiment, gender neutral reader but reader is implied to be non-human (adepti/youkai)

Signora, the fair lady, Rosalyne, is dead at the electro archon’s hands. You were even allowed to bid her goodbye at her coffin before the ceremony, not that you have any other choice.

You are not sure what to make of this information for a few days.

At first, what’s left of your hopes made you believe you have a chance out of this prison now that your captor passed away.

What you failed to account for is how you are counted amongst Signora’s possessions. For the Fatui, possession of the deceased needs a new owner.

“Normally, I have better things to do than cleaning after a dead colleague. But I volunteered for this, as I know the witch must have some collection worth looking at after so many years of life.”

“What a surprise I got indeed.” The petite girl tilted her head and blinked curiously, as if some new shiny toy caught her attention. “Not even I know she loves playthings of your kind.”

You wanted to open your mouth to protest, but decided to swallow the words at the end. Isn't that what you are to Signora?

Despite her delicate doll-like appearance, the frilly dress,and light chestnut strands that hands down her shoulders loosely, this is a Fatui Harbinger you are dealing with here.

“Hmmm, what shall I do with you?” Seeing the girl crossing her gloved fingers, thinking, you know what you need to do. It is risky, but better now than after she comes up with some sick games to play with you.

“Would you let me go? She’s dead and I am of no use to the Fatui.” Those “brave” words only made her narrow her eyes, all you got is a light tap on the head.

If this is Signora, she would have slapped your face so hard that it leaves marks, and your lunch will be canceled, at the very least.

But this Harbinger’s nonchalant attitude unsettles you even more.

“It is Madame Sandrone to you, remember that nice and clear. I do not tolerate such inappropriate behavior.” Sandrone pouts while crossing her arms, a gesture that could be seen as “cute” if she is not making you kneel under her Mary Jane heels.

“Have some respect for Lady Harbinger, I think you need some p-”

“Enough, Éliott. Go join the scavenger crew for Signora’s treasures. You are no longer needed here.” The man exited the chamber without another word, seemingly while making futile attempts at controlling his shivers.

“Close the door on your way out. Now, where were we?” Descending from her large mechanical device, Sandrone starts to take steps in your direction, with her skirt in hand.

How her heels tap on the ground while walking towards you, sounds like the beginning of the end. Signora already said there is no sane soul amongst the Harbingers, no matter how harmless they might seem. You cannot figure out where Sandrone's loose screws are, not that you want to either.

Being looked down by a small girl is surely a strange experience, after all, you got used to Signora towering over you. Forcing you look her in the eyes, Sandrone lifted your chin.

The way that she caresses your cheek is just plain disturbing. What’s worse is although she is smiling a lot ,it never quite reach her blue eyes. “What a pretty thing. This whole ordeal is not a waste of time after all. How else might I get my hands on the centerpiece of Signora’s collection?”

“I will be your mistress from now on. What material for the collar would you like? As for leaving…lose that delusional mindset, clearly Signora has not trained you adequately. ”

Letting go of your chin, Sandrone suddenly bends down to grab your wrist, forcing you to let out a hiss of pain. Worse, she seemed to be displeased with your reaction.

You could never assume from her looks alone, how such a dainty doll-like girl could have absurdly strong grip strength.

“To those like me who tinker with experiments, you are like a walking treasury of rare, special materials. Do your best to behave, or you might just become part of my spontaneous projects. When I say part, I mean it. Understood?”

"Or I can give you to another of my cher colleague, I know he would LOVE to have you."

“...Yes, Madame Sandrone.” You try to lower your head, so as not to let her see lights fading away in your eyes.

Lights pats land on your head, the same ones given to domestic animals. “Good, now come along, Chéri, don’t make me waste more of my precious time.”

No curse words, no hitting, yet Sandrone's polite words, dripped in sweet honey still managed to make you fear for your future.

#yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #Yandere genshin x reader #Yandere fatui #yandere sandrone #yandere female #tw: dark content #tw: yandere

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night-lakmen · 5 days

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"I grant the gift of leadership and dominion over the skies."

"I grant the gift of harmonious unions and enduring partnerships."

"I grant the gift of swift communication and clever wit."

"I grant the gift of valor and unyielding courage in battle."

"I grant the gift of music and healing"

"I grant the gift of the wilderness and the moon's guidance."

"I grant the gift of magnetic attraction and boundless passion."

"I grant the gift of innovative creations and unparalleled artistry."

"I grant the gift of abundant harvests and flourishing growth."

"I grant the gift of insightful knowledge and strategic foresight."

"I grant the gift of ecstatic celebrations and uninhibited revelry."

"I grant the gift of comforting homes and welcoming hearths."

In the majestic hall of Olympus, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. The grandeur of the surroundings, adorned with celestial motifs and shimmering lights, created a backdrop fit for the gods. As the deities assembled, their diverse presence filled the space, each one exuding an aura of power and grace.

At the heart of the gathering, a glowing golden pulse captured everyone's attention. Its radiant light cast a soft, ethereal glow, casting shadows that danced across the marble floors and reflecting off the intricate frescoes that adorned the walls. The gentle hum of conversation ceased as all eyes turned to the pulsating orb, its rhythmic throbbing a testament to the divine energy it contained.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the golden pulse began to split into two halves. They spun ever so slowly, one clockwise and the other anticlockwise almost like they were two ends of the same spectrum. Two halves seperated just so one didn't become too powerful or destructive, forever meant to need to the other to function.

Hades, who had been summoned to Olympus from his own domain simply for the present occasion, spoke up with his words filled in a sense of disdain for the family he had tried to distance himself from simply due to their habits. "Bestowing such gifts on mortals is cruel! We're gods, we control our own domains. Expecting two young children to bear such a heavy responsibility, having their life already written down before they're allowed to be born- it's downright cruel!"

The other gods looked at each other and then back at Hades, the words of the God of the underworld shaking some of their own guilt. The big three had to put a pause to their own pact for the task in hand, find a surrogate for the burning merges of power which would make the host a living weapon, a sheild, a blade for the gods which would protect the forefront of Olympus. Fates were cruel, but it was the best thing for the gods to do. The threat of monsters constantly trying to over throw Olympus meant they'd need someone who would be able to fight the threat with the force of all of them.

Someone human.

Poseidon, his trident held loosely by his side, nodded solemnly. "It was a necessary decision," he agreed, his voice steady and resolute. As much as the God wanted to take his words back, he knew him taking his words back would mean the responsibility would be given to Zeus- and both Hades and Poseidon did not trust Zeus with choosing a suitable mortal to mother the host of the power.

The king of the gods turned his head towards Hades, his stormy eyes narrowing in dangerous rage.

"You question our decisions, Hades, yet you offer no solutions," Zeus retorted, his voice tinged with a hint of thunderous anger. "You speak of cruelty, yet you fail to see the greater purpose. We cannot afford to let Olympus fall to the whims of fate and chance. We must act with decisiveness and strength to protect our realm. Tell us at once if you want to back up your words, we do not have time to waste."

With a reluctant sigh, Hades moved towards the center of the gathering where the golden pulses had once been. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before his fingers closed around one of the warm power hotspots. As he lifted it, the pulsating energy slowly transformed, its vibrant glow dissipating to reveal an exquisite fruit. The fruit was a deep shade of e/c, its surface adorned with specks of shimmering gold, casting a mesmerizing pattern against the light.

As Hades backed away, his gaze locked with Poseidon's, who had approached the second pulsating hotspot. With a solemn expression, Poseidon picked up the other glowing orb of energy. Similar to Hades's, the energy gradually settled, giving way to a stunning fruit. This one was a radiant shade of azure blue, its skin smooth and glossy, emanating a sense of calm and tranquility.

As Poseidon turned to leave, his trident glinted in the soft glow of the hall. Zeus, noticing his departure, called out, "Poseidon, where do you think you're going?"

Poseidon paused, his expression sour as he glanced back at Zeus. "Since we're supposed to find a surrogate for the host," he remarked, his tone laced with bitterness, "I already have a woman in mind. If you don't mind, I must go woo her properly."

With a dismissive flick of his hand, Poseidon turned on his heel and strode out of the hall, leaving behind a trail of tension and uncertainty in his wake. The gods could feel the cold emotions radiating off the other god who held the e/c colored fruit on his palm. The cold specks in it seemed to swirl in his sight, a cold fist closing around his heart.

Lowering the hand, he too turned around from the other gods and walked away with the intention of staying in the underworld, by his wife's side so as to spare him the pain of fathering a child who would be raised as a lamb of sacrifice. The father he'd never asked to be, but now was forced to bear, for the sake of Olympus' survival.

With heavy hearts and troubled minds, the remaining gods and goddesses slowly dispersed, their footsteps echoing solemnly against the marble floors of the grand hall. Each deity carried with them the weight of the decisions made and the uncertainties of the future. The spots which had once held the pulsating energies lay barren, slowly turning darker as fates sealed their cruel iron hand over the heads of the children who'd be unlucky enough to be born under the curse.

The curse of power. The curse of strength.

The curse of being chosen by the gods.

#luke castellan #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fluff #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo luke #demigods #luke castellan fanfic #the last olympian #luke castellan smut #luke castellan pjo

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