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lazyjellyfish300 · 6 months

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Fem Reader x Miguel O'Hara who is your Uber Driver

Commissioned art by @ejpuki on Instagram, same as the one above, this is just a link to the original post. Please support the artist 🖤

Synopsis- in an AU where fem reader drinks too much and the bartender calls a random Uber for her which happens to be Miguel O'Hara himself. Her friends suck and ditch her. There's a lot of tension on the ride home...with a twist on the og Miguel O'Hara comic. Word Count 4.5k

Pt 2, Pt 3 1, Pt 3 2 , Pt 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9

T/W: 18+ only, minors DNI, alcohol, drunkeness, mature language, implied masturbation, some sexual content/fantasizing, some self-deprecating language (reader is insecure), age gap (reader 26, Miguel 34)

This is my first EVER fan fiction piece! If you have a crush on Miguel O'Hara from Across the Spider Verse, this is for you...

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"Next song is for all the bad bitches in here tonight, let's make some noise." As soon as the song starts you recognize that it's Agora Hills and a switch goes off in your brain as you yank your friend, Hailey by the arm to the dance floor while she struggles to get the last sip of tequila sunrise down the hatch as the ice cubes attack her face.

It was a Saturday night, now very early Sunday morning in mid-November. You and your two friends are in a slightly seedy club in Brooklyn. Right now, all three of you are trying to escape the first-world problems of modern day society, and common issues that would plague late-twenty year old adults like stagnant jobs, anxiety-inducing texts from distant family members about plans for the holidays, and a casual fling that started to sour about 3 days ago.

Right now, all you want to do is dance to this song. And go home for some relief because the tequila is making you horny and your situationship hasn't texted you back for going on 16 hours now.

You and Hailey giggle as you both throw your heads back in bliss to the music, holding each other's pinkies as you try and awkwardly spin on the dance floor.

"Wait!" Hailey calls out and stutters as she lets go of you and tries to squeeze through a sea of musk, 5- Gum, and Bath and Body Works perfume back towards your other friend, Brin, who's still at the bar.

"Fuckkk. Whatever girl." You drunkenly roll your eyes and close them again, throwing your arms in the air, moving to the beat. The song is making you feel even more electrified than before. You toss your head back and move your hands from your shoulders, to your chest, down to your thighs. It's one of those moments where you feel dangerous.

God I love being a woman! You picture going home with a stranger. A tall man's lips crashing down on yours in your dark bedroom in drunken passion, falling backwards onto your bed. You picture yourself pulling your clothes off slowly while his hungry eyes scan your curves…

Your fantasy is interrupted when you feel a clammy hand touch your hip, just below where your see-through top ends. Your eyes shoot what you hope is an annoyed look at the offender. A brown haired guy in a white t-shirt with a flannel who looks like his name is Tanner, smirks at you as he moves past you, but not before letting his eyes dart to your cleavage line under your black bralette. You groan and move the other direction and realize Hailey and Brin are nowhere to be found. Your drunkeness wears off for one second as you slowly jerk around, trying to make your way towards the bar.

A tall brunette with a half sleeve tattoo, glasses, and her straight brown hair in a claw clip is counting her drawer.

"H-have you seen my friends?" you ask her stupidly. The tall brunette looks at you, her small sticker name tag on her baseball tee shirt reads "Reagan."

"I can't hear you, hunny." Reagan has seen this a million times. "Last call just ended. Do you have a ride home? I said, do you have a ride HOME?"

Reagan leans over the bar, holding onto your wrist. Her breath smells good at least.

"Okay look, can you hand me your phone please? Let me help you order an Uber." You blow air out of your lips like a horse and sloppily hand her your phone. "Enter your passcode, please."

You type in your passcode and watch the glint from your phone reflect on her glasses as she orders an Uber for you. Luckily, your address is already saved to the app. "Okay, sweetheart, wait here with me. Miguel is coming for you in 4 minutes." She hands you back your phone and credit card. "Sign here please."

Fuck, did I transfer that 200 from my savings before I got here? You think as you sign the receipt she hands you. The total is $58.75. You scrape the tiny excuse for a pocket inside your skirt and hand Reagan a crumpled up 20 as a tip. Reagan takes it, eyes widen a little bit at the sight of the 20.

Did she mean to give me this much?... Fuck it. She gives you a small, concerned grin.

"Thanks... let me get you some water."

You nod and slump your head forward on the sticky bar.

Suddenly Reagan is shaking your shoulder.

"Hey! Your ride's here!"

You realize you might have fallen asleep temporarily. The room is still moving like you're trying to balance on a waterbed. She places a styrofoam to-go cup in your hand filled with ice water as she grips your left arm.

"Here, just take off your shoes, hunny." She bends over and pulls off your clunky heels and holds them in her free hand. You feel like you're 4 years old. You feel tears well up at the sudden kindness.

"Okay hunny it's okay, come on now." She pulls you outside and to the curb where a black Audi is waiting. The cold air assaults your bare legs and your teeth start to chatter. The driver recognizes his passenger is quite inebriated and gets out, walking towards the struggling pair.

You feel your bedroom eyes creep up when you see him. Oh no, he's hotttt!

You curse in your head silently for not checking your reflection before he got there. You're sure you're a hot mess though.

He's tall, huge, even. Definitely way over six feet. Dark tousled hair with dreamy brown eyes underneath sculpted brows are locked on you as he gets closer. You instinctually run a hand through your hair, trying to make it look more voluminous. Probably a lost cause at this point.

He's wearing black joggers with some worn Nikes. His black hoodie is baggy but you have a very good imagination. It covers a set of broad, wide shoulders and what you're sure are bold chest muscles underneath that lead to a delicious pair of V lines and an endearing happy trail of hair running down his belly button that lead directly to his-

"Can I carry something for you?" His rich voice pulls you out of your indecent thoughts for one second then sends you right back there again.

"Um, yes can you get her shoes please?" You hear Reagan's voice go up an octave.

Girlll me too. You think to yourself.

Miguel takes your heels in a pair of strong, large hands. As he does, he tugs his sleeve and checks a black Apple watch, veins running up a thick forearm. Called it. This guy was jacked. Probably a gym bro. Definitely has a girlfriend. You feel yourself get sucked back into reality. You were probably a 7/10 at best. And right now, probably a strong 4 after your shenanigans tonight.

Miguel opens the back door, allowing Reagan to tuck you in.

"Get home safe hunny," she says.

"Thank youuuu," you slur back to her as you sit, disheveled with your sippy cup of ice water in the backseat opposite of the driver's in front. Miguel gets in the driver's seat, the scent of Old Spice seeps in.

He smells good too?! You feel yourself wanting to sin. He sits in the front seat for a few moments in silence, fiddling with his phone.

"2949 Ocean Parkway?" he asks in his mesmerizing voice.

"Yeah, that's right." You feel yourself perk up. You're starting to sober up slightly but you still have enough liquid courage left to start asking him a lot more questions than you normally would.

"Your name's Miguel?"

"Yes," he answers. "Did you have a good night tonight?"

"I did! It was supposed to be girl's night, I'm not sure what happened to them, though."

"Your friends left you?" His dark eyes glance in the rearview mirror at you.

Sighhh "Yeah, I guess they did."

"You need better friends." One of his hands comes up and grips the shoulder of the passenger seat as he sits up and looks over his shoulder, his eyes meet yours for just a moment, then focus on the back window as he pulls out of the parallel parking spot. You can't help but stare at his chiseled jawline and his neck, imagining yourself planting a line of kisses on it while he groans and grits his teeth...

"You know what sounds amazing right now?" You ask in a flirty tone, interrupting your own dirty thoughts.

He cracked a small smile. "What's that?"

"Taco bellllll." You rest your cheek on the shoulder passengers seat, looking at him.

He glances at you, then keeps looking ahead as he drives.

"Well, if you want to update the route I'd be happy to stop anywhere you want."

You laugh.

"I don't know how to do thattt." The car comes up to a red light.

"Here, want help?" Miguel looks over at you as you hand him your phone which has the app still opened, courtesy of Reagan helping you from before. Miguel quickly types, his eyes going from the traffic light to your phone as he tries to enter the new address for the closest Taco Bell.

"Got it," he hands you back your phone, another whiff of his cologne coming off the fabric of his hoodie as he moves his arm back to rest on the center console while he drives with his left hand.

You glance down at your phone and then back at him, still leaning forward with your cheek pressed against the back of the passenger seat.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel was curious about his new passenger, probably the last ride he'll do tonight. He didn't get a good look at you when the bartender was putting you in his car. He glanced over at you again when he thought you weren't looking, but quickly moved his eyes back to the road when he saw you were staring at him already with your cheek pressed against the passenger seat.

"You tired?"

"Kind of," you fake a small yawn while still holding your position.

Miguel laughed. He thought that was kind of amusing, how you were clearly faking being tired and shamelessly staring at him while he drove. He knew he was a good looking guy. Once you got into his car, he felt like he needed to take care of you and make sure you got home safe since your shitty friends wouldn't.

Your eyes wander to the space between his chest and the steering wheel, trying to imagine yourself in it, his strong arms wrapped around you as your hot, frantic, breaths fogged the windows as your bodies pressed together...

"So, y/n , right?" He asks.

Fuuuuck he said my name...

"Yeah..how did you know?! Oh right, the app, the app..."

Miguel smiles.

"So, Miguel, how is it being an Uber driver?" you ask. Feeling brave, you touch his elbow resting on the center console. Miguel's fist clenches tighter around the steering wheel at your touch.

"It's...not bad. It's been pretty busy tonight, actually. I went to the gym earlier then just have been taking a few folks like yourself around town who were going out as well. "

"That's nice. You know, we're gonna be best friends by the end of this drive," you grin, taking another sip of ice water.

"Really?" Miguel smirks. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Your heart flutters at this question. Why is he asking me that?!

"Uhm, no.. I was talking to a guy but I think he ghosted me."

"Heh, I'm sorry to hear that." Miguel replied, not sorry at all.

"Do girls ghost you? Or-uh, I mean- do you, do you have a girlfriend?" you manage to spit out.

Miguel smiles at your stutters.

"Nah, I'm single. I do have a daughter though."

Your smile disappears for a moment. A daughter? "Awhhh, what's her name? How old is she?"

"Her name's Gabriella. She's 6."

"That's sweet...." Miguel's handsomeness mixed with the liquor is enough to cause all rational thinking to exit your brain. I could be a step-mom, easy! I love kids, what the hell?

"So, how old are you?" You ask.

Miguel chuckles. "Isn't it rude to ask a stranger's age?" He glances over at you and the corner of his mouth raises at your slightly mortified expression. "I'm just messing with you- I'm 34."

"Dang, I'm 26," you answer as you look out the window.

"You're still pretty young," Miguel remarks as he turns down a new street.

"I definitely don't feel that way," you answer as you slump in your seat. You decide to check your email. Once you open it, a message that you don't want to see is at the very top. It's a random Yahoo email address you don't recognize which means only one thing: your asshole, estranged dad. You click on it quickly to clear the bold lettering indicating it's unread, and catch a quick glimpse of its contents which is a novel with no spacing. You quickly delete it with a loud sigh.

"Everything okay?" Miguel asks.

"Just my dad. Somehow he made another email address and tried to contact me again. It's a long story though we don't have to get into it..." your voice cracks slightly.

The skin around Miguel's eyes softens when you mention your tense relationship with your father. He himself knew that pain as well. His father, George O'Hara, wasn't a model parent, either.

"I'm sorry you're going through that," Miguel says emphatically. "I don't have the best relationship with my dad, either."

Once you hear this, the last bit of liquid courage in your system inspires you to spill the tea.

"He and my mom are divorced, and, well he's just a narcissist, right? Growing up, I didn't see it, but his whole family is full of them. My grandma never wanted him to marry my mom and so ever since their wedding day, she treated her like shit and when I came along, it was no different. I used to wonder why at Christmases she got bigger presents for the other grandkids and ask why she didn't show up for my birthday parties. My dad never did anything about it and always took their side. I finally realized it when I was about 16 when they divorced, and that's when I said fuck it. If you're not gonna stick up for my mom or me, I don't really want anything to do with you or your family."

Miguel nodded, just listening to you speak, glancing at you in the rearview mirror so you knew he was paying attention.

"Wow, I must say, that sounds horrible. Good on you for sticking up for yourself and your mother. As a parent myself, I can't ever imagine treating my own child or their family that way..."

You sigh.

"Yeah, shit's fucked. But there's nothing I can do about it, you know? I just don't have the strength to talk to him right now. But he never fails to try to reach out about this time every year. Since it's the holidays."

The car arrives at another red light. This time, Miguel turns around to face you while you're stopped, his eyes directly looking into yours.

"Don't feel guilty for doing what's best for you. No matter how hard it is. I know that most people think that family is everything, but, truth is sometimes they can hurt you the most." Miguel then turns back to the wheel.

You feel a flutter in your stomach as though an invisible spark appeared. You were strongly physically attracted to your handsome Uber driver, no doubt about it, but after hearing him speak, you realize there's more behind his captivating features. You feel the very beginning of a connection starting to form and suddenly you wish you had all night to talk to him. Miguel felt the same way, too. In fact, he was going 5 miles under the speed limit and riding the slow lane to try and prolong the encounter. Luckily, you were still too tipsy to notice.

"Well, this should cheer you up..." Miguel pulls the car into the Taco Bell parking lot. You groan internally when you realize you're going to have to go inside. You step out of the car, the cold air assaulting your bare skin again. Miguel notices you shivering.

"Here." Without hesitation, he peels off his hoodie and hands it to you. You want to die as soon as you put it on, and once you see him standing there without it on. He's even more toned than you realize. He's wearing a grey athletic shirt that hugs his broad shoulders just right, his defined chest and ab muscles tapering off into a narrow waist. His hoodie is still warm and smells intoxicating. You feel your hormones going crazy when you bring the collar of the hoodie to your mouth and nose, shamelessly getting drunk on the scent he left behind...

You do a mini sprint to catch up to him as he's already making his way towards the restaurant.

Miguel looks at you from the corner of his eye and his heart skips a beat. He adores the way his oversized clothes drown you. The hoodie is big enough to be a dress on you. He imagines this would be how you two would look together getting a bite to eat, only after making you scream his name 30 minutes before....

You and Miguel enter the Taco Bell and he gives an awkward grin as he holds the door open for you.

"Why don't you sit down or use the restroom if you need, let me order for you," Miguel says.

Your heart melts, but you decide you better seem modest with your order.

"Umm just a gordita crunch, small Baja blast, and a 2 pack of Cinnabon delights please."

Miguel smiles. "You got it." Suddenly, he feels close to you. You trusting him to order food for you and take you home after a rough night out while letting you wear his clothes.

While you go into the bathroom, he approaches the counter.

"Hello, I need two gordita crunches, a large Baja Blast, and a 12 pack of Cinnabon delights, please" He takes out his card and pays for the food without a second thought.

Meanwhile, you come out of the bathroom after cleaning up a bit, still wrapped in his warm hug of a hoodie and wait near the door. Miguel strolls over with your food and grins at you.

"Are you ready to go?" You nod and grin back and you two make your way back to his car. Suddenly, you realize.

"Do you have Venmo? Let me know how much I owe you."

"Absolutely not." Miguel answers firmly. "Here, why don't you sit up front this time?" He opens the passenger door for you. You beam at him.

Is this real? Is this guy really doing all this for me and I just met him? You've never had a man treat you this well. Not even your last relationship could be bothered to hold a door open for you or pull out a chair. You get in and Miguel hands you your bag of food, the delicious aroma making your stomach growl. Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion when you realize there's a lot more food in the bag than you told him to order originally. Miguel gets in the car and starts to drive again.

"Did, did you order extra food for me?" You laugh as you turn to him. Miguel gives you a small half smile but says nothing. You take a bite of the gordita crunch and let out a loud, "Mmmmmmm!" Just what you've been craving all night.

"Thank you, thank you so much you have no idea..." Your sentence tapers off as you stuff one of the piping hot Cinnabons into your mouth.

"You're very welcome." Miguel answers as you arrive at another red light. You realize Miguel didn't get himself anything.

"Do you want a Cinnabon bite?" You hold the box and give it a little shake.

Miguel offers a polite smile. "No thanks, those are all for you."

"Whaat, you can't turn down one of these. Have you even had these before?" You say playfully.

He chuckles at your playful tone. "I haven't, actually. But I trust your judgement."

"Come onnn...it's the LEAST I can do after everything you've done for me tonight. You're seriously gonna make me feel SO bad if you don't take at LEAST one." You give the box a couple shakes as if it's going to entice him more.

Miguel sighs. "Alright, you got me. I'll try one."

You smile wide as he takes one of the Cinnabon bites from the box you're holding in an outstretched hand. Your smile almost breaks your face as you see his reaction to his first bite.

"Jesus.." he mutters as his brows furrow in disbelief. He looks down at the remaining bite in his fingers as though he can't comprehend its existence. "That's spectacular, actually."

"Have another one!" You beam.

"Don't mind if I do." Miguel pops another one in his mouth and he brakes again at another red light.

He glances over at you and notices a little bit of taco sauce on the corner of your lip. "You got something..."

Suddenly, your heart stops as he raises his hand to your face, cupping your cheek between his thumb and pointer finger, while his middle finger cradles your chin. His lips part in concentration as he gently presses his thumb against the corner of your mouth, retrieving the smudge of taco sauce. Your mouth falls open a little bit too. He gives you a little smile as he brings his thumb to his own mouth, cleaning the sauce from his finger.

That might have been the hottest thing you've ever seen in your life. At this point, all you want to do is grab his face and make out with it. Traffic be damned, your runny mascara be damned, your deflated hair be damned, you don't care anymore about any of that. He could ask you to do anything and you'd give it to him without hesitation.

Miguel is thinking the same thing. He did that on purpose. If it wasn't anymore obvious he wanted you right now then he wasn't sure what was. His gaze falls back to your lips. He suddenly realizes you've begun to lean in closer to him. Your noses are inches away from each other. God, he wanted you. To lick passionately into your mouth with his tongue. Being able to hold you and grip your ass as though he was a starved man who couldn't get closer to you even if he tried. Watching your brow furrow with pleasure, hearing your voice and watching your breath fog his windows and the heat rising in his body knowing he was the cause...

Reality busts in like the Kool-Aid man.

She was drinking tonight. You just met her. She's your passenger. Technically, you're still working right now...No, it's not right...

Miguel pulls away suddenly, and, as if the universe has his back, the traffic light turns green and he presses the gas, driving once more. Your breath catches in your throat and your heart starts to pound again.

Doesn't he like me? What happened....? What did I do....? Did I misread the signs? I wanna hide in my room for the rest of my fucking life now.

You clear your throat and take a long sip of Baja Blast. The uncomfortable silence and tension becomes a thick fog. You recognize your apartment building coming into view and your heart sinks.

"Home sweet home..." Miguel pulls into the parking lot. "Is here a good place to drop you off?"

"Yeah..." You try to make your tone sound like it's back to business. Miguel nods and grips the steering wheel with both fists in the 12 o' clock position as he watches you gather your things.

Ask for her number, you fucking pussy... Truth is, when it came to matters of the heart, Miguel's heart was glass.

"Thank you for the ride and the food, and, and just everything..." you step out of his car, defeated. You really didn't want to be the one to make the first move. If he really wanted to he would...

Miguel looks back at you with a neutral expression.

"Of course. You have a safe night, now." He starts to pull away.

"Miguel!" You realize you're still wearing his hoodie and you go to take it off.

He looks at you through the rolled down window, still driving away and shoots you a gorgeous smile and shakes his head at you in refusal, giving you one last wink that nearly knocks you over.

You sigh with frustration and watch his car disappear into the night, trying to memorize his license plate but your brain is hazy and the numbers on it escape your mind as soon as they enter. Your heart leaps in your chest when you realize you might be able to contact him through the Uber app...

No no, you let him talk to you first. Did your last situationship teach you nothing, you dumb hoe?! Don't be that desperate girl...

You wrap the droopy arms of his hoodie around yourself as you walk up the stairs and take a deep sniff...burying yourself in his scent so you never ever forget it. Even if he didn't want to spend the night holding you, you could go to bed with a huge smile on your face knowing you walked away with a piece of his clothing, the essence of what he left behind wrapped around your body all night long. An intangible connection that bound you two together...

Miguel sighed as he drove away. He just didn't have the bravery tonight. He didn't want to come across as creepy. The reality is, you were a slightly intoxicated stranger, a vulnerable woman younger than him, and he didn't want to abuse his power over you in that way. He looked at the empty passenger seat next to him and laid one of his hands on it, feeling the warmth you left behind. Trying to remember the way your thighs pillowed on it...the way your soft lips opened in shock when he wiped the sauce from your mouth, the small line of saliva from you that he caught on his thumb and licked into his own mouth..

He inhaled deeply, his jaw tensing and speed on the road increasing as he felt his body getting hot... He tried to lock your perfume in his nose for as long as he could, imagining himself inhaling it directly from your soft neck... holding onto the remainder of your presence, just...just until he could get home and relieve himself of his dire wants...

You, the perfect stranger who found herself in the passenger seat of his car tonight, and unknowingly wound up in the back of his mind for good...

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Hope you liked it! Thank you SO much for reading. ❤️ Part 2 is coming soon!

Pt 2

#miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #tension #fem reader #Spotify

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enderpearlll · 2 years

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Yandere!Bob Velseb - My Favourite Employee. PT 5.

This is it, the (possible) final part to My Favourite Employee. I have no clue if there’ll be another part, I’m still debating on it. Thank you all so much for the support, the love and anticipation is very much appreciated! Hopefully this is a moderately satisfactory end!

Gender-neutral reader, but pet names such as sweet pea and and darling are used.

TW/CW: Yandere content, emetophobia (vomiting), harsh language, murder, stalking, vivid descriptions of paranoia and anxiety, etc…

The name tag sat there on the countertop, shining in the light. Your coworkers name was engraved on it's surface, mocking you as you stared dead at it.

•... No. No, it couldn't be. It was probably a joke, right? A sick joke, Bob usually did make morbid jokes and told you weird stuff, it just had to be. You felt your blood run cold, your heart pounding out of your chest. "...B—Bob? What is this?" You asked, your voice cracking with fear. Bob chuckled lightly, like this was such a casual conversation. "The main ingredient, sweet pea."

•... And then you hurled onto the checkered floor, emptying out the contents of your stomach. No, no, no, no, no— This couldn't be happening. You fell onto the floor, clutching onto your arms and clawing into your skin as hard as you could. You felt like you were going to pass out, the room spinning around you. Bob gasped and ran around the counter and kneeled beside you, rubbing your back and brushing your hair away from your face.

• "Aw, you feelin' sick sweet pea? Don't worry, I'm here!" Bob smiled at you, his cheeks rosy and his eyes full of joy. He wrapped his arms around you, making you erupt with another bout of nausea. You slowly turned to face him, a blank look in your eyes. "Get. The. FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" You screamed, pushing yourself away and struggling to get to your feet. Bob was obviously hurt by your choice of words, slowly standing to his full height.

• "Aw, darlin', don't be that way... I did it for ya, I did it for us!" He chimed, holding his arms out towards you. "You're my favourite employee, how can I not do everything for ya?" You were petrified, everything clicking together in your head. The pet names, the affection, the favouritism... You started hyperventilating and stumbling backwards, shaking your head in disbelief. You trusted him, he was your friend—!

And now he was a monster.

• Bob's grin faltered as you quickly turned around, barreling into the kitchen. You glanced around and noticed the freezer, diving towards the door. You tried tugging and pulling on the latch, but it wouldn't budge. It was locked. Bob came through the doorway seconds after you, betrayal in his eyes. "S—Sweet pea, what are ya doin'...?" You cussed underneath your breath and stood there petrified as Bob stalked closer, approaching you like you were made of porcelain.

• He leaned out to caress your cheek, his touch as gentle as ever. But you slapped his hand away as tears welled in your eyes, clenching your jaw shut. "D—Don't touch me!" You yelled, before grabbing an empty crate and slamming it into the side of his head. Bob let out a scream of pain, falling onto his side as he groaned in pain. "D—Darlin'..." You dropped the crate and made a break for it, dashing out of the kitchen and into the hallway which led to a staff room and Bob's office.

• The staff room was always closed at night, since Bob made the rounds before you all started to clean. The only option was the office, so you took your chances and slammed into the door, which flew open sending you barreling to the floor. You winced in pain as you slammed the door, locking it behind you. You took a creaky old chair and propped it up against the doorknob, hoping that it would keep Bob out. You glanced around, having never seen the inside of his office before. The lights flickered on and off, obviously neglected. The security cameras were on as well.

• You tried to get off your ass and grabbed at the desk for support, but you couldn't get a good grip because of the piles of pictures on the desk. You accidentally sent some fluttering to the floor, landing on your behind again. The pictures landed around you, grabbing your attention. You grabbed one, which was a picture of you outside. Your eyes widened as you snatched another, which was you taking out the garbage. What the hell?

• You quickly stood up, glancing around the tiny office. There was a whole wall full of the creepy polaroid pictures, all of which were you. There was you sleeping, eating, walking, in public... You would probably puke again if you didn't already throw up your only meal of the day. All of them had dates scribbled in red ink, strung up with red string. and you turned around to see that there was even more photos on the desk.

• You tried to dig through the drawers, hoping to find a weapon or anything to use against him but what you found was nowhere near what you wanted to see. Your stuff, all the things that went missing over the last few weeks were in the drawers. Old toothbrushes, favourite clothes, used bandages, even more pictures... All of the drawers contained your stuff, nearly full to the brim of your belongings.

• You stared at the piles of stuff in the desk, and then at the cork board full of pictures on the other wall. This time, it wasn't pictures of you. It was of the people you knew and talked to, with some of them slashed with big red X's. You took a closer look and saw that those select few were ones of the missing people. Your coworker was the one of them. Same with the creepy guy, and the grocery clerk... You covered your mouth with a trembling hand when you noticed the cracked screen of your coworkers phone on the desk.

Bob was the one who killed them, he was the one who was stalking you, and he made you eat the remains of your coworker. This all felt like some sick nightmare that you wished you would wake up from already.

• You had to call the police, and quick. You quickly glanced over the cameras, and you saw that Bob was looking for you in the main area. You had enough time to make a call, and maybe enough time to find a weapon. So you looked for a phone, which was a old ancient phone buried underneath photos. You quickly dialled the police station, muttering 'please pick up' over and over underneath your breath.

• A gruff voice answered the call, obviously overtired. "Hello. Police station." You nearly cried in relief hearing his voice. "H—Hello? Yes, my name is..." You explained everything that you've seen, and that you had a major lead on where the missing people may be. You just hoped that they weren't all dead, like... You let a few tears fall, biting back a sob. "Please, you've got to believe me." You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The police officer was heard hollering for his partner before returning to the call.

• "Don't worry, we're on our way." And the call was ended with a click. You let out a sob of relief, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. Now, you just had to find a weapon—! *SLAM!*... Oh no.

• You looked at the hallway camera, mouth agape when you saw that Bob was at the door. This was it, this was where you died. By the hands of your obsessed boss who was stalking you for weeks, the source of all your paranoia. You screamed when he slammed his fist on the door, his voice echoing from the speaker and through the door.

"Sweet pea, don't do this to me! You're all I live for!" Hearing him say that made you sick. Bob had taken lives for you, which meant he wasn't kidding when he said he would do anything for you. You huddled in the corner, praying to whatever god was up there that you would make it out alive. Bob kept pounding on the door, getting more and more frantic.

• "GODDAMNIT SWEET PEA, OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, your heart skipping a beat. You never thought you'd see the day where Bob would get angry at you. You stared at the cameras, watching as Bob braced himself to charge into the office. You prepared yourself, shielding your face and sliding down the wall. The door slammed open, the chair flying to the ground. Bob towered above you, chest heaving up and down.

• You could barely see his expression, but you could tell that he was staring down at you and grinning wide. His eyes were wide with a mania you thought that you'd never see coming from a man that called himself your so called protector. Bob's eyes were wild and glistening with infatuation, his demeanour changing immediately once he saw you cowering away from him.

• "Darlin'... You ain't scared of me, ain't ya?" Bob said, his voice tender as he stared down at you. You swallowed thickly, tears falling down your face as you looked down and shielded yourself from him. He kneeled down in front of you, a small smile on his face. "Please, talk to me..." He reached towards you, but you had immediately flinched away. Bob's face dawned with a look of pure terror when you flinched away from his touch, a quiet sob wracking through you.

• "No, no, no, sweet pea... I didn't mean to scare ya, honest—" The sound of a pistol cocking interrupted Bob's rambling, making you both snap your attention to the culprit. Two of the police officers had stood in the doorway, guns pointed at Bob. The taller one gestured at Bob then at the other officer, and the former nodded at him in return. "Bob Velseb, you are under arrest. Put your hands up."

• Bob slowly craned his neck to stare at the officers then back at you, betrayal clear on his face. "... Sweet pea? Y—You're not gonna let them take me, right?" You bit your lip and cowered further into the corner, watching as Bob's hands started to tremble. "No, no, no, no, no, sweet pea, you can't do this to me—" Bob begged, grabbing your hands and pulling them towards himself, tugging you closer.

• "Please, you can't let them take them take me away from ya— Darlin', listen to me—!" Bob pleaded, but you only shook your head as the officers grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him to his feet. Bob fought against them, his gentle demeanour quickly fading into anger. "GET OFFA ME—! NO! SWEET PEA!" Bob had launched his fist into the face of the moustached officer, who's nose broke with a sickening crack. Blood spilled everywhere, making you grimace.

• "Well, you might as well call for that backup now that we have it Jack!" The shorter officer shouted at the taller one, his voice nasally as he tried to keep Bob from getting to you. Jack had cringed and said "Oh yeah." In return, pressing a button on his walkie talkie. Other officers had come storming in, much more equipped for the job than both Jack and John. Bob was still struggling, fighting with all of his might against three officers and hollering at them. "DON'T TOUCH 'EM, YOU SICK PIGS!"

• Bob looked at you one last time, a strained grin on his face. "I—I'll be back for ya, sweet pea, I swear on it!" You shivered under his intense gaze, glancing back at Jack and John, who were currently trying to avoid getting blood all over the evidence. "I promise ya, we'll be happy again, I love you, sweet pea—" And with that, the backup team of officers dragged him away, his screaming still heard from outside of the restaurant.

• Both Jack and John had helped you get off of the floor, examining the room and staring at the wall full of photos. They both collectively shared a wide-eyed look before looking back at you with shock. You all couldn't believe that you were all alive. "Um... You'll have to come to the station, by the way." The taller officer said, handing John another tissue. "Oh wow, you think?" John said bitterly, holding a cluster of tissues underneath his crooked nose.

• You took one final glance at the security cameras, and Bob was staring dead into the camera at the front of the building, an impossibly wide grin on his face. You felt an overwhelming amount of emotions hit you all at once, falling to the ground again and staring at your shaking hands. This was it, this was the end of this nightmare.

You could only hope that was the last you would see of that smile.

(But will it be? Lol I have no clue if there'll be a part 6 so... maybe.)

#yandere headcanons #yandere blog #yandere fic #yandere x reader #yandere bob velseb #yandere spooky month #yandere writing #yandere x you #spooky month #spooky month x reader #yandere #bob velseb #bob velseb x reader #my favourite employee

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virgo-dream · 9 months

Text

Flowing

based on this lovely post and @softest-punk’s ficlet on the reblogs. it scratched my brain so good I actually wrote something!!! this miracle took at least 76 lazari.

dreamling, t4t, fluff, all that good stuff. not beta’ed we die like Hob doesn’t yadda yadda yadda, idk how many words it’s 4:30am and I’m eepy and hungy wow

Dream’s fingers run over the keyboard on his laptop in a staccato rhythm. He feels his fingers clicking against each individual key clumsily, almost as if for a moment, he’d forgotten how words should be strung together. He hits the backspace, once, twice, holds it like he means to suffocate the words on the screen. Like they scare him, like his chest is being torn open by a fictional claw.

It’s not flowing, he tells himself. It hasn’t been flowing for a while now.

Still, he pushes through, typing away, forcing the words out, until a hand much warmer and steadier than his own reaches out, stopping Dream in his tracks.

“Dove, I can hear the cogs turning in your head. What’s the matter? You’ve been jumpy all day.”

Dream’s eyes stay focused on the screen, and time starts to dilate in his mind. He’s not sure why, but his chest tightens. He’s not sure if he’s ready to bring a name to that feeling either. Still, it’s impossible not to look at Hob, whose expression is full of warmth and kindness, and unlike Dream, seems to have his chest open and ready to bring his wreck of a lover into an embrace.

Hob wears the scars on his chest like a badge of honour. A body of his own making, a body Dream could sense from afar even before Hob had started growing into it.

“I… I’m not sure.” The words to describe his anxiety are there, Dream knows that. He’s trying to reach out for them, but he falls short.

Hob’s lips curl into a soft smile as he carefully reaches for the computer resting on Dream’s lap. “That’s alright. But maybe you’ve done enough writing for today. No point in frying your brain like that.”

Dream feels his heart climb up to his throat, hands gripping the sides of the laptop as if his life depended on it. “—I’ll stop. You’re right. There’s nothing more I can put on the page for now.” He shuts the laptop down, pulling it away from Hob and placing it on the nightstand.

He’s got nothing to hide from Hob. He’s got plenty to hide from himself. Dream can tell from how Hob’s eyebrows raise that whatever it is, he’s going to have to face it sooner rather than later.

“…ooookay. I wasn’t going to look, you know? I only want to read what you want to show me.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Silence fills the room as Dream and Hob look at each other. He can tell Hob is not going to push, but oh, how Dream wishes he would. Maybe a push is just what he needs. Maybe Hob is the only person who can do it for him.

Dream looks at Hob’s chest once more. Open, welcoming, light. Free. At his eyes, loving, wanting, sincere. At his arms, reaching out for Dream, wanting to bring him closer, to protect him, to give him strength. “Duck, is there anything you—“

“—could you use they for me sometimes? I don’t think I’m… I don’t think I’m a he. All the time. Maybe.”

Silence now sucks the air out of Dream’s lungs. They stare at each other as his— their words move through both Dream and Hob’s brains. For a split second, Dream feels a surge of fear and shame, the horrifying possibility that everything went wrong and somehow a line was crossed. A line he cannot possibly ignore now.

Before he can dive into any more assumptions, Hob’s arms are around him in a firm embrace, almost crushing. A hand goes to rest on the back of their hair, fingers tangling with the soft, dark strands. Hob holds Dream like they are the most precious thing to ever exist. “—oh duck, I’ll call you whatever makes you feel good. Thank you for trusting me, I know how difficult this is. Thank you, Dream. I love you.”

Hob’s words feel like a soothing balm to Dream’s crumpled chest, that now opens up as they take a breath, as if the weight of the world had finally been lifted off their shoulders. Hob’s embrace feels like permission, like comprehension, like support. And love, so much love, so much that Dream doesn’t know what to do with it other than let their hands go to Hob’s softly stubbled cheeks and direct his face to meet Dream’s in the middle, lips crashing clumsily at first.

When Dream opens their eyes again, they are rimmed with tears. It’s okay, though. Hob would not denounce him for crying. Hob accepts it, celebrates their moments of emotional release.

“I know. It’s scary. You did something very big right now. I’m proud of you.” Hob presses a gentle kiss to Dream’s forehead, and doesn’t let of them. Dream is not bothered by it, in fact settling into Hob’s arms, like their bodies were always meant to rest against one another.

Dream wonders if Hob knew all along, like they somehow sensed Hob’s truth years before it came to light.

The next morning, their words are flowing again.

#Dreamling #dreamling fic #the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #amazing art #t4t dreamling is somethin else #hob gadling #my writing

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thegeyisshowing · 8 months

Text

Oh, baby chapter 2

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Wife!reader

Fluff level: 10000000%...Angsty but also the best kind of tooth rotting love.

Warnings: smut, mentions of TTC and pregnancy struggles

Chapter 2: Trials of love

In the slow passing time that followed your revelation, the farmhouse you shared with your wife became a hub of excitement and anticipation. You poured over books about pregnancy and ate all the right foods. But days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. One negative after another. You started losing the excitement and started gaining sadness.

You knew it wasn't Larissa's fault as just to be sure with her shape-shifting abilities that she had good numbers. Which she did. But the problem wasn't her, it was you. You felt awful. Every test you had taken came back with another single line, making you feel even more broken.

"Darling, it's not your fault." Larissa cupped your cheeks with her hands and wiped away the few tears that had stained your face. "But it is! You don't get it, Rissa, it's MY body that won't work!" You pulled away from her and backed up against the wall, holding yourself while you cried so hard that you started to hyperventilate.

Larissa knew you were having a breakdown. She had seen it from you before. The uncomfortable panic and anxiety that your brain tried to trick you with. She quickly kicked off her heels and slowly walked up to you. Kneeling down in front of you where you had slid yourself to the floor.

"My love…" was all she had to say for you to crack and leap into her arms. "Shh, that's it. Let it out honey." She rocked you in her arms until you calmed, and then scooped you up off the floor and carried you into your large bathroom. She sat down on the stool next to the big claw foot double tub and started the water. She did it with ease without letting go of you in the process.

She stood up and walked over to the bathroom counter and set you down while still standing in front of you. She gave a silent look, asking permission to undress you. You just nodded your head. As soon as the two of you were undressed, she turned off the running water and gently lowered you into the bath.

She stepped away, and your eyes filled with panic. "Calm now, my love, I'm not leaving." She reached into the drawer next to the sink and pulled out a lighter and lit three of your favorite smelling candles. And dimmed the lights low. Slowly, she walked over and slid in behind you into the warm water.

You allowed her to pull you back against her, and she peppered you with kisses. She started at your shoulder, then your arm, working her way around to your neck and up to your cheek. She slowly turned your head and gave you a long, deep kiss, wrapping her arms around your waist and holding you tightly to her.

"I love you, Y/N Weems." She told you softly and kissed you again. "No more tests, no more scheduled sex or temperature checks. None of it. It will happen when the goddesses above deem it to be honey." You let out a shuddering breath at her statement. Your shoulders are relaxing more than they had in weeks, and as much fun as you have had baby making, it felt like work, not love, and you were tired.

You relaxed in silence as your wife washed your hair and then hers, taking her sweet time pampering you properly. She drained the tub and stepped out to grab a towel, then helped you up and wrapped you in a towel and scooped you up again. She set you down on the bed and brushed your hair, and braided it just the way you liked and slowly removed your towel. "No babies tonight, just love…" she whispered into your ear.

She laid you back onto the bed and lifted one of your legs, peppering kisses from your ankle to your upper thigh and down the other leg too, causing a bright red blush to envelop your pale skin. Straddling you, she kissed your navel and trailed up to your breasts, kissing and giving little nips and squeezes. She ran her fingers through your hair and attacked your neck and jaw and soon caught your lips. You were breathless with desire for her touch. When she said love, she meant it with all her being.

"You are so gorgeous, darling." She said as she slid herself back down to your center. Giving the slowest lick to your folds with her tongue, your hips bucked up greedily to meet her now steady movements. Your voice went hoarse, and you moaned her name. "Rrr-rissa I'm close don't st-stop…" you moaned wildly when she started to suck your clit and held your hips in place. She slid two fingers in with ease and started hitting just the right spot to send you over the edge with a scream. She continued to suck and slowly milk your orgasm until you started to come down.

You laid there breathless for a few moments before flipping her onto her back and straddling her now shifted member. You looked at her and sank down into her hard cock. A moan escaped both of your lips as you took her fully and it didn't take you long to get into a rough pace with her. It was hot and dirty and you both were dripping with sweat. It only took a few more minutes for you both to hit the edge and climax hard, both of you screaming each other's names.

You rolled off of her and onto your back, panting and trying to catch your breath. You closed your eyes and let the euphoria envelop you, so much so that you didn't notice your wife getting up and walking to the bathroom. She quickly cleaned herself up and brought back two wet rags for you. She sat back down and cleaned you up, starting with your legs and core, then swapping rags and cleaning your face and torso from the sweat. Once she was done, she pulled out two bottles of water from the bedside cupboard and held one to your tired lips.

"Drink darling," you happily did so, and once half the bottle was gone, you pulled back and closed your eyes again. "Love you too, Rissa." Larissa ran her fingers over your cheek and drank some of her own water. She laid down, pulling you into her warm body and pulled the covers over both of you. As she wrapped herself around your sleepy but blissful self, she couldn't help the smile that filled her heart, and the two of you fell into a deep slumber.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa x y/n #larissa weems #larissa x wife!reader #wednesday #pregnancy talk #smut

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cookies-over-yonder · 4 months

Text

roll for panic attack

During a sleepover at Mordred Manor, Jawbone finds Riz curled up on the kitchen floor.

ao3

hello fh fandom!! i wrote this a week ago after catching up!

When Jawbone steps through the living room of Mordred Manor on his way to grab a glass of water, he expects to see every kid sleeping soundly.

What he doesn’t expect is an empty sleeping bag where Riz should be.

As he approaches the kitchen, the sound of staggered breathing becomes louder.

And when he steps inside, he sees the little investigator curled up into a ball on the floor, leaning against the fridge.

Jawbone isn’t sure this kid even has a set of pyjamas, considering he’s always wearing the same button up and hat even when he should be asleep.

“Riz?” he says quietly, so as not to startle him.

“ Gah! Hiss!” Riz whips his head up, baring his fangs, and has one hand on his gun immediately.

“It’s just me, kiddo,” Jawbone says, kneeling down in front of him.

Riz’s eyes widen, and he shrinks back a little. “Right—yeah—yes, sorry,” Riz stutters out, and now that his face is out from being pressed against his knees, his panting is a whole lot louder. “Am—am I in your way? I can—”

Riz scoots away from the fridge swiftly, only to hit his head on an open drawer and wince, back away, and fruitlessly wipe sweat off his forehead.

“It’s okay, kid,” Jawbone says, fully sitting across from him and closing the drawer. “Now, what’s going on?”

Riz averts his gaze, and Jawbone notices his trembling hands.

“Nothing is going on, Jawbone,” Riz says, continuing to wipe sweat off his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Looks to me like you’re having a bit of a panic attack.”

“What? No—I…” he bites his lip, searching for words. “I’m not—I don’t—I just couldn’t sleep,” he stutters out between small gasps, “I mean, I wasn’t going to anyway. Someone’s gotta keep watch, right?” he asks himself desperately, eyes wide and hands frantic. “Shit, I should probably get back over there—why did I even come to the kitchen? I—I—I’m so stupid—”

He lets out a squeak, and starts fully hyperventilating, unable to speak and clawing at the fabric of his shirt.

“Kid, hey, hey, can you hear me?”

Riz shuts his eyes, letting tears fall, and nods, curling further in on himself.

“You’re okay, Riz, we’re gonna do a breathing exercise, okay?”

Riz nods again, and he opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a whine.

Jawbone does a fairly simple one with him, in for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four. Square breathing seems to help the most with the kids he sees at Aguefort, he finds.

After a few rounds of that, Riz is breathing slightly easier. “I’m fine,” he says, voice hoarse and weak. “Good. I—I’m good. You can go… do whatever you came here to do.”

“Kiddo, do you get panic attacks often?” Jawbone asks, pointedly ignoring Riz’s request.

“It’s not…I’m fine,” Riz glares at him. “You don’t need to worry.”

“You didn’t answer my question. I’m only asking out of concern, you know.”

“Well I—” he starts, and then his face falls. “I don’t know?” he admits, gaze glued to the floor. “I’m good, though. A little bit of anxiety is good. It’s good. It keeps me working. Keeps people safe.”

“A little is good, but it seems to me like you’re working with a lot, Riz. You’re still shaking,” Jawbone adds, gesturing to his hands.

“I’m used to it. Besides, the more sleep I get, the less work I get done,” he says, and he says it so matter-of-factly, Jawbone’s concern increases tenfold.

“The more sleep you get, the better you’ll feel,” he says softly, “Has your anxiety been keeping you up at night?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s normal. Look, are we done talking about this? I’m good now.”

“Alright, do you want some water before you go back to your sleeping bag?”

“No,” Riz says, getting up and walking out of the room.

Jawbone makes a mental note to have a longer chat with him in the morning.

#riz gukgak #fantasy high #fhjy #d20 #jawbone o'shaughnessey #hurt/comfort #panic attacks #cookies writes and cookies wrongs #fanfic

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dragondemoness · 2 years

Note

Hi it me the bunny anon after you made my request about phantom thieves x with the cute reader can you do a version where y/n have a palace but different because they palace was made by the grief and sorrow and how much y/n misses they grandma they palace it totally opposite of they style it a huge scary abandoned mansion full of everything that is scary and terrifying y/n shadow self it then where are a child with they plushie with them they enter the mansion to find they grandma headcanons

Finally, I was able to get to this one!

So, I did the boys and girls separately. This part includes the boys, and I'll make a separate post about the girls.

So sorry this took so long, Bunny Anon!

Ultimate Cuteness Reader - Phantom Thieves Edition (alternate) (The Boys)

Akira Kurusu/Joker

He never once thought that you might have a palace

You always seemed too sweet to have one

He was quickly proven wrong when he saw that you left your bunny plush in a classroom

The plush started glowing red and vibrating

Next thing he knew, he was in his Phantom Thief attire, in a dark mansion

Was this... a palace?

The Meta-Nav never detected it

It was unlike anything he had ever seen

And he noticed that the bunny plush was gone

It was your palace?

He didn't want to believe it

It was so unlike you

But he wouldn't know unless he explored, so he did, despite his anxiety

Compared to the other palaces he's infiltrated, this one was absolutely horrifying

The cognition, the designs, even the shadows

Joker was afraid to even go near the shadows

He noticed the shadows were all wearing bunny masks as well

The dark walls of the palaces were lined with paintings

Paintings of you, your bunny plush, and an elderly woman

Except for a large, empty frame

He got up close to one of the paintings, and he accidentally fell into it

He saw the events of the painting unfold before him

It was the day your grandmother gave the bunny plush to you when you were a child

So it really was your palace

But your palace didn't seem malicious at all

Just filled with grief and sorrow

He explored the rest of your memories, up until he made it to the empty frame

He touched it, and suddenly, he found himself in a large room

Joker fell through the frame and hard onto the ground. After taking a moment to collect himself, he stood up and looked around.

He found himself outside, in a large backyard with flowers everywhere.

He looked ahead of him, and his heart stopped.

He saw you, as a child. You were holding your plush in your arms, you wore small, cute clothes, and your once bright, beautiful eyes were now a glowing yellow. You stared at him with no expression.

Was this... your shadow?

"(N-Name)?" He found himself at a loss for words. "Why do you have a palace?"

"I'm looking for her."

He opened his mouth to ask who you were talking about, but he noticed you staring.

He followed your gaze, and saw you staring at the other side of the empty frame.

There was a picture of you and your grandma, dancing together in her flower garden while the bunny plush sat on a rocking chair in the background.

The flower garden looked exactly like where he was right now.

Then he figured it out. Your palace didn't spawn from a place of maliciousness or arrogance, but from a place of grief and sadness. You had been at your worst recently, missing your grandmother more than ever, developing an obsession with seeing her again.

Before he could say anything, the palace began to rumble. And out of nowhere, a hole opened up in the ground. And what appeared was an incredibly tall elderly woman, but much more twisted. She had large, clawed hands and feet, long bunny ears sitting on her head, bright red eyes and a sharp-toothed grin.

So this was your palace's cognition of your grandma. Given how fondly you viewed her, Joker was confused.

But he took a breath in and put a hand on his knife. He was gonna have to fight your grandmother, and it wasn't gonna be easy.

Ryuji Sakamoto

All he wanted to do was return your bunny plush

And he ended up getting caught up in this

The second he placed his hands on it, he ended up in a palace

Was it... yours?

He tries to deny it at first

There's no way you could have a palace!

But the memory paintings proved otherwise

The paintings of you, your grandmother, your bunny

As he roamed around, he felt more and more unsettled

The palace was so dark and scary

It wasn't like you at all

Even the shadows were creepy

They weren't patrolling the palace or anything

They were just standing around in groups, with rabbit masks on their faces

Ryuji cautiously walked up to one of them and struck them with his weapon

It didn't fight back or attack him

Just stared at him and groaned

Ryuji quickly walked away from it

He roamed around anxiously, trying to find your shadow

He just wanted to know why you had a palace in the first place

You were way too nice to have strong enough feelings of malice to spawn one

But as he was thinking, he fell through an empty picture frame and ended up in a flower garden

"(Name)? Why do you have a Palace?"

Ryuji stared in shock at what looked like your shadow. You stared back at him with wide, expressionless, yellow eyes.

"I'm not sure what you mean. This is her home."

Before he could ask what you meant, you pointed to something behind him. He followed your gaze and saw the painting behind him.

It was you, as a child, and your grandmother dancing together in a flower garden.

The flower garden he was in.

Ryuji stared at the painting, with no words to say. He finally realized the truth. Your Palace didn't spawn from feelings of malice or greed. It spawned from your feelings of grief.

You had been missing your grandmother more and more, and Ryuji felt stupid for not noticing.

But he quickly looked away when he heard a rumbling from behind him. He turned, and a creepy, demented shadow suddenly sprang up from the ground. It looked like a strange hybrid of a rabbit and an elderly woman.

Wait... Was that your grandma?

So that was your cognition of her. But why? From the way you talked about her, she sounded like such a sweet person. So why would this be her cognition?

But now was no time to ask questions. Ryuji breathed in, and brought out his mace. He turned to you, looking to see what he would do. He felt a twinge of sadness in him.

He knew what he needed to do, and that it would hurt you.

Yusuke Kitagawa

He came to Shujin after school to visit you

He painted a new masterpiece and was excited to show you

But you weren't there

Instead, he found your bunny plush on a desk

He picked it up with a smile

"Well, well, what are you doing here by yourself? Where's (Name) run off to?"

The Bunny turned its head up to look at him, and it started to shake

Next thing he knew, he was in his Phantom Thief attire, and the rabbit had disappeared

To say he was shocked would be an understatement

Why did the rabbit bring him here? Where did the rabbit go?

Where the heck was he?

Given his costume and the cognition, Yusuke could only assume that this was a Palace

But it was different

It felt very dark and disturbing

He didn't even consider the idea that it was your Palace until he started to look around

He was distracted by the paintings on the walls

The paintings of you, an elderly woman, and your bunny

Suddenly, his blood turned to ice

This was your palace?!

Fear and anxiety took over as Yusuke took off in a run, desperately searching for your shadow

He needed to know why you had a palace

As he was running, he ran into the empty frame and fell into the flower garden

Yusuke stood up and took a look around. The garden was dark, the only light coming from the garden lights on the ground.

He jumped when he saw your shadow, staring at him with wide, expressionless eyes. You held your bunny plush in your hands, with glowing eyes of its own.

"(Name)... What is this place?"

"This is her home."

As you said that, you turned your head and pointed to something behind him. Yusuke turned around and saw the painting he had fallen through.

It was a picture of you and your grandmother dancing in her flower garden, smiling and laughing. Yusuke could feel the pure joy from this picture, and it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

But this moment was cut short when he felt the ground shake. He turned back around to see a large, demented shadow spring up from the ground.

Yusuke watched in shock as the shadow beast towered over him.

Was this the Palace's cognition of your grandmother? But why?

Yusuke froze. This was somehow even more disturbing than the Palace as a whole. And the reason it even existed was because he was blind to your grief.

He shook his head. Now was no time to succumb to the guilt. You needed him.

Yusuke readied his katana for battle. He needed to help you accept your grandmother's death, even if it hurt you.

Bonus: Goro Akechi

He had just finished another murder commission for one of Shido's confidants

After exiting the Metaverse, your bunny plush was right there in front of him

He was startled, having no idea how it ended up there

He picked it up, eying it curiously

Then he ended up right back in the Metaverse

And the rabbit had disappeared

This Palace was unlike any other Palace he had entered

The overall cognition was dark and horrifying

And there was an underlying feeling of grief behind it

For once, he felt anxious

He took a close look at the pictures on the wall

He saw you as a child, your bunny plush, and an elderly woman

Wait, was this your Palace?!

Suddenly in a panic, Akechi broke into a run and started looking for you

Soon after, he fell through a large, empty frame on the wall

Akechi landed in a flower garden, in the dark mansion's backyard. The only light were the garden lights in the ground. The sky had no moon, and no stars.

Was there even a sky?

He jumped when he heard footsteps in the grass. His heart stopped when he saw your shadow, the shadow of your child self.

"(Name)?" He forced out. You stared at him, your yellow eyes wide and unblinking.

"Why are you here?" He asked.

"I finally found her. She's alive."

"What?"

You pointed to something behind him, and he turned to see a large picture, in place of the empty frame he fell through.

It was a picture of you and your grandmother dancing in the flower garden, laughing and smiling while the plush rabbit sat on a rocking chair in the background.

Then, Akechi understood. Your increasing grief for your grandmother turned into denial, and you found yourself unable to accept her death, even after years.

He looked at you with sadness. He should have been with you more. He should have been there to help you.

But his thoughts were cut off by the ground suddenly shaking, and out of nowhere, a shadow appeared.

It looked like a strange hybrid of a rabbit and an elderly woman.

This was your Palace's cognition of her?

Then he realized: it wasn't how you viewed your grandmother. This shadow represented your grief, and your denial.

Akechi breathed in and reluctantly took out his gun. He felt horrible for what he was about to do. He had done enough damage already.

But the grief was hurting you, and he needed you to accept the truth, even if it was painful for you.

#persona 5 #persona 5 x reader #akira kurusu x reader #ren amamiya x reader #persona 5 joker x reader #ryuji sakamoto x reader #yusuke kitagawa x reader #ultimate cuteness series #ultimate cuteness reader #except it's persona 5 #goro akechi x reader

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yourgaeyisshowing · 8 months

Text

Oh, baby chapter 2

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Wife!reader

Fluff level: 10000000%...Angsty but also the best kind of tooth rotting love.

Warnings: smut, mentions of TTC and pregnancy struggles

GIF by carnivorousflowers

Chapter 2: Trials of love

#larissa weems x reader #larissa x y/n #larissa weems #larissa x wife!reader #wednesday #pregnancy talk #smut

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spaceprincessem · 2 years

Text

blue skies | 36k buddie fic | ao3 link

{Buck meets another savior baby and everything comes crashing down}

“The envelope,” Buck snaps his fingers, pointing towards the stairs, “I’ll be right back.”

He jogs down to his locker, his heart hammering in his sternum so hard it hurts. He did an initial once over, looking for anything that might indicate something is wrong. By all accounts she looks perfectly healthy, no weird bruises or ribs poking out. She smiles easily and it reaches her eyes and while he finally believes she isn’t in immediate danger Buck still feels like there is something he is missing. The envelope is heavy in his hands, like it had been when she gave it to him three days ago in the middle of the road. He looks down at the blank stretch of beige, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn’t want to keep anyone waiting so he tucks away the anxiety clawing through his chest and heads back to the loft. Evie is seated next to Hen, an open chair on the other side — his place next to Eddie. He sits down, Eddie’s knee knocking into his before it settles there, a balm to Buck’s frayed nerves.

“Here you go,” he steadily hands the envelope over as everyone begins to dig into the fajita casserole.

Evie cautiously takes it, turning it over in her hand, checking the seal with hard concentration. After a long stretch of silence, only cut by silverware against plates, Evie looks up at Buck with a furrowed brow.

“You didn’t open it?” She asks and he’s reminded of how she watched him with some kind of awe when he asked to look at her wrist.

His skin begins to itch again, hot and irritating as he swallows the swelling anxiety.

“Why would I open it,” he says carefully, like this is some sort of test, “it’s not mine.”

Evie considers the answer for a moment with a small hum. Buck is quite aware that all eyes are on them right now and he tries not to squirm in his seat. Eddie’s knee presses further into his. Buck exhales deeply, not realizing he’d been holding his breath since he handed Evie back the envelope and starts, “Evie, are you sure—”

“Most babies are born as accidents,” She says suddenly, like she’s decided that Buck has passed, that she can trust him with this.

Buck doesn’t really have an answer because that question hits way to fucking close to home. A year or so ago he would have said, yes, I was an accident, so I know how that goes, but Buck knows better now. Knows that he would almost give anything for that answer to still be yes. Evie’s finger works under the seal to rip it open, a stack of important looking papers dumping out onto the table in front of her.

“Not me,” she says without looking up as she organizes them into a neat stack, “I was engineered.”

And.

And Buck’s pretty fucking sure a giant, cataclysmic hole has ripped right open, dragging him down to the earth’s core where he vaporizes into dust.

“What?”

Evie clearly doesn’t hear the devastation in Buck’s voice as she hands him the papers. The entire firehouse seems to be frozen, wide eyes and dropped jaws all pointed right in Buck’s direction.

“I was born to save my sister,” she shrugs her shoulders, but there’s a bitter twist to her mouth that Buck feels in his gut, “a savior baby. That’s what they call us.”

Buck’s hands are a trembling mess as he takes the papers. He’s vaguely aware that Eddie’s hand is squeezing his thigh, Bobby is now standing, hovering just behind them, and everyone else is still staring in silent shock.

“Dani, my older sister” Evie continues and Buck’s amazed with how calm she sounds, almost resigned, "was diagnosed with acute promyelocytic leukemia when she was four and since no one was a match,” she shrugs again, her lips pursing unhappily in the corner, “my parents had me.”

Buck doesn’t cry. He doesn’t. But he’s pretty fucking close because the words on the paper Evie hands him blur and he feels so goddamn nauseous he has to choke back the bile rising up his throat. He very much can not do this. His eyes flutter shut and when he leans back he feels a line of heat he knows is Eddie, who somehow moved closer to Buck despite the probably awkward angle their chairs are set at. Bobby’s hand is on his shoulder now too and he’s pretty sure if they could Hen and Chimney would somehow find a place to touch him. It’s incredibly grounding, but also makes everything feel too real and he has a terrible urge to run right out of the firehouse and never look back.

“Buck?” Evie asks, very concerned, “I’m — sorry, did I —”

And when he opens his eyes they lock onto each other’s gaze. Something passes between them, like a hard truth coming to light and suddenly Evie’s eyes begin to gloss over.

“Oh,” her voice is small, “you too.”

[read on ao3]

i can tag people now right?? well i think i will 🥰

@colonoscopys @mumucow @justlovehimanyway @ty-in-bedlam @triskel-samulet @ashavahishta

#buddie #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #my watch has ended i swear jeez louise i can't believe this fic is finished

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leviathanverse · 7 months

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Chapter 10: Winged surprise

The usually calm night was quiet. A bit too quiet for her liking.

She had seen the forest from a distance and had decided to drive towards it, thinking that it was possible that Y/n had- hopefully, if they were still alive- used as an escape option. She turned her steering wheel, turning left to avoid any rocks or sharp objects that were on the dirt path.

She scanned the border of the forest, trying to spot any possible evidence that Y/n had entered the forest, or if they had parked their car right outside of the forest. Her hope flourished when she saw a single piece of cloth caught on the branch of a tree. The material black, and had anyone been fifty meters away, it would have impossible to spot the cloth from that distance.

She stopped the car and turned off the engine before taking in a deep breathe to calm her nerves.

" It's okay. You'll find them. Don't let fear take hold of you."

She sighed and sucked in a deep breathe, opened her car door and got out. She didn't close the car door as she had planned to drive into the forest. For safety reasons. She stood in front of the branch and gently grabbed the cloth. It was Y/n's... Hope blossomed in her chest as she held the cloth, bringing it close to her chest. As if to embrace it like it was the last piece of evidence of Y/n's existence.

She stood like that, just embracing the material close to her, absorbing the quietness before pulling the material away from her. She turned around and walked to her car. She was hopeful for Y/n being alive. She just had to look for them now.

She put stuck her head in the car and put the cloth on the passenger's seat before getting in the car herself. She closed the car door, started the engine before putting her hands on her lap, anxiety crept up her spine.

" You can do this. Do it for Y/n's sake. Get yourself together."

She closed her eyes and sighed, opening them again to reveal her glare that made any person fall to their knees. She put her hands on the steering wheel before putting the gear lever in D. She stepped on the gas and drove inside the forest. She scanned her surroundings, green orbs looking out for my signs of her worker.

She turned the steering wheel, driving through the thicket like a calm driver on their way to a picnic. But she wasn't on her way to a picnic. She was on her way to find Y/n. She didn't want to let Kai be right. She wanted to prove to him that Y/n was stil a-

" What was that?"

She stopped the car, scanning the forest cloaked in darkness. She grew weary, body tense and forehead sweating slightly. She didn't see anything. She thought that she was paranoid, that she was seeing things that weren't there, that her mind tried to make an excuse of Y/n moving in the forest.

" I swear I saw something move..."

Her chest felt heavy, her brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of what was going on. She didn't know what to think of this. Was the forest playing tricks on her? Was she going insane? Was she seeing things?

She sighed and was about to step on the gas, when something large suddenly pounced on her car. She looked at the outside mirror, and saw a tail larger than anything she has ever seen. She looked behind her at the back window, and saw claws the size of her.

She rolled down her window and poked her head out to see what it was that attacked her car. She was shocked, awestruck and excited on the inside but calm on the outside when she saw a dragon three times the size of her base. The yellow irises glared at her car before focusing on her. She pulled her head back inside and rolled up the window, trying to remain calm in the situation she had gotten herself in.

She saw in the outside window how the dragon opened its jaws bit the back of the car. The teeth dented the metal of the trunk, and she saw how the dragon seemed to realize something before removing its jaws from the back. It wasn't even a few seconds before the car was lifted by the dragon. She hit her head against the horn, and groaned. She felt the car jerk as the dragon flinched from the car making noise.

She felt a bit out of it, the impact she made with the steering wheel made her a bit dizzy. She shook her head when she saw the dragon open its jaws below her. Her eyes widened as this happened, but was calm nonetheless.

" Oh sweet tea."

The dragon let her car go and the vehicle fell inside its jaws. She was disoriented for a bit, not realizing that the dragon had closed its jaws behind her car as it began to swallow the object she had driven.

She came back to her senses, and saw as her car with her in it was pulled by the muscles greedily. She was still calm, despite what was happening to her. Her car had landed in the space known as its stomach. It tumbled inside and it landed on the passenger's seat side.

She opened her door, and climbed out to the best of her ability. She looked around in the space, and saw some bones from past victims. If she was a normal person, she would've cried and begged for mercy to the dragon. She wasn't a normal person, now was she?

" This is... new... Can't say that I have had experienced something like this before."

She hissed when she accidentally cut her side while climbing down the car with a piece of metal. She brought her hand in front of her face to see that there was blood on her digits, still clutching her side with her other hand.

" This can't get any worse, can it?"

She huffed and approached one of the fleshy walls, placing her blood covered hand on the flesh as she spoke.

" I know you can hear me."

She began, and lowered her head and sighed. She could use a cup of coffee right about now. To keep her awake for another day. She really needed to sleep, but the determination and perseverance was strong.

" I had no intentions to try to capture you nor did I have the intentions to kill you, I promise... I just wanted to look for my missing worker..."

She sighed.

" You are a healthy dragon. I can't imagine myself hurting a beautiful and majestic creature like you..."

She was calm as she spoke, earning soft rumbles from the dragon, causing the walls of flesh around her to vibrate.

" There! Capture it!"

She heard the voices of people, knowing that they were either hunters or poachers. She heard the dragon snarl, the walls vibrating around her. Before she knew it, the dragon had began attacking which caused her to fall around inside its stomach. She yelped, eyes wide as she tried to keep herself balanced while chaos ensued outside.

" You idiots! Muzzle its jaws!"

" We are fucking trying!"

The men and women yelled while the dragon moved and attacked, all while she was being tossed around as everything happened outside. She slid again, this time, hitting her head against her car hard. She felt dizzy, and felt something warm drip down the back of her head. She managed to say a sentence, and prayed that everything would turn out okay in the end.

" Fucking... hunters and... poachers hurting innocent... creatures."

She passed out, the blow to her head to much for her to handle. Maybe the dragon heard her while it fought the poachers or hunters? Hopefully everything would be okay. Maybe... Hopefully she could continue her mission to find Y/n... if the dragon decided to spare her, that is.

Previous <-•-> Next

#demon slayer #hantengu clones dragon au #dragon hantengu clones au #angry oc with a hatred for humans #The Hunter Assassin book #v0re #soft v0re #safe v0re #Hantengu #Karaku #Aizetsu #Sekido #Zohakuten #Urogi

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baiboop · 4 months

Text

Sharing my Heart

hey y’all, i ended up deleting my fic off of ao3, im going to post the chapters here under the tag sharing my heart baiboop. the tag will be at the bottom of this to click and scroll through, i should be done uploading the chapters by this monday. i only have the drafts that were in my notes so im sorry if there’s any typos! reminder that the first 3 chapters are a recap of the actual episodes leading up to adam’s possession so you can skip ahead if you need to!

Chapter 1

Darkness and a cool, damp earth surround Adam. He’s confused, he can feel the granules between his fingers and the sensation of being completely trapped. Suddenly he’s engulfed by a wave of anxiety, brought on by the constricting environment he found himself in. His body flushes with the heat of nervousness. The pressure and weight of the ground trapping Adam momentarily leaves him stunned and unable to move. He starts to make an attempt of breathing before his train of thought finally kicks in.

‘Up. I’ve got to go up.’ Adam thinks to himself.

He knows where he is. He remembers now.

Adam can feel his lungs squeezing, the burning sensation of oxygen being withheld cause his chest to instinctively heave.

Dirt is in his mouth and panic is in his mind, but still, he knows where he is.

He’s been restored life by the angels.

He is ‘The chosen one’.

He is to be Michael’s sword.

He claws his way to the top using all of his adrenaline fueled strength. It’s a painfully slow process as he moves the moist dirt out of the way, making room for his limbs and he thinks he might die again from having to hold his breath for so long.

The inability to open his eyes is heavily contributing to the deep sense of panic, this emotion is currently being subdued by the adrenaline, and the adrenaline alone.

He wonders to himself why they had to resurrect him in the ground, if the angels had enough power to bring him back to life surely they could’ve brought him back to life on top of the ground right?

With the first breach of the surface Adam can feel sunlight and cool air on his fingers and the dorsal of his hand. Adam pushes and prods at the dirt, shoving his arms farther out. The more that his body becomes free, the looser the dirt becomes.

Eventually, Adam’s head and upper body emerge topside.

The exact second his face hits the cool air Adam gasps the deepest breath, he believes, humanly possible. The largest sense of relief Adam has ever felt is now present in his mind.

Panting, Adam starts to catch his breath before he trudges himself the rest of the way out. With his arms freed and the ability to breathe restored, he pulls his lower torso and legs out of his earthy grave. He stands up, wanting to stretch his legs out now that he’s out of the claustrophobic dirt trap he was previously in. Once fully upright his vision fades and he can feel a dizzy spell over taking him. The lack of oxygen and the adrenalines slow decline, is making it impossible for him to normally function. He gently drops himself to the ground and attempts to steady his erratic, anxiety-riddled breathing by counting breaths.

Breathing in

one, two, three, four-

Holding

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven-

Breathing out

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-

Adam repeats this cycle about four times, just like his mom had him do in the past. He successfully steadies his breathing before he stops to consider everything that’s just transpired.

“Holy shit.” Adam says aloud. (Not that he necessarily thought anyone was around to hear.)

He surveys his surroundings taking in the dull grass and trees of the area. He was in a clearing, or maybe a meadow? He’s not sure. Why was he in a clearing?

Where is Zachariah?

Or Micheal? Or any angels?

He begins to look around, feeling the previous dread start to creep back in. His mind raced with all the scenarios, and the impossibility of it all.

Maybe they couldn’t find him? Maybe they changed their minds? Maybe he-

His thoughts were cut short by the soft rustling of wings and whooshing of air.

A second wave of relief fills Adam to the deepest pore.

They remembered him. He would let let Micheal in, and see his mom again. They promised.

Adam turns his body, the previous thoughts only consuming about 3 seconds between now and when the angel had first arrived.

He took a breath before putting on a smile and politely introducing himself.

“Hey, I’m Adam Milligan, are you Zachariah?”

The angel stared at him and Adam held his gaze, the angel had dark hair, beautiful blue eyes and his lips were a pale pink, formed into a permanent pout because of their wideness. The angel parted his lips, pausing a moment presumably to think-

“No.”

The angel replied in a monotone, slightly gruff voice.

Adams brows furrowed in confusion, “But-“ he started to speak however was cut off by the angels rapid approach.

The angel reached out, placing a hand on Adams shoulder. Before Adams surroundings melted around him, he noted the angel was an inch or two shorter than him, wearing a trench coat, blue tie, and white button-up.

He heard the flap of familiar wings, and his sense became assaulted by the inability to view, well anything. He shut his eyes, tight, hoping to avoid a headache and re-opened them a couple seconds later when he felt the jolt of his feet hitting wood floors.

A wave of nausea and disorientation hit him as soon as he had opened his eyes, he put his hand up clutching his forehead before turning to the angel.

“Hey man, what the hell was that?” Adam said brows still knit together tightly, with a look of vexation displayed on his face and in his posture.

Adam could feel the pins and needles in his hands and feet, he knows for the past three-ish minutes he’s been conscious he’s been running on pure adrenaline, even though it had previously started to wear off the- whatever the hell just happened- had pushed it back into overdrive.

He surveys the room, seeing four other male faces around him. His hand drops from its protective hold on his head and he starts to sway, weight shifting unevenly from foot to foot. He reaches out trying to grasp something to steady himself on but fails to lock onto any object. He hears one of the men talking to him, “Adam? Adam-“

He closes his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut, trying to block out the noise to soothe the pounding of his head. He feels unbalanced, like he’s falling. Oh shit he is falling.

Adam feels large hands tightly grasping his right arm and torso before he loses consciousness.

——

Adam feels a hand on his chest, accompanied by a white hot light pulsing inside every inch of him. This snaps him straight out of his unconscious rest and he bolts straight up, gasping in deep breaths.

“Where am I?” Adam demands, still panting from the shock. His eyes dart animalistic-ly, between the three men towering over him and the one sitting behind them.

Even through his haze, and the angels vague instructions, he has pretty much gathered these are not the people he’s meant to be with.

Did he get kidnapped? He thinks to himself.

Pulling his legs in closer, he starts to alter his sitting posture. Turning it more rigid, like he’s expecting a fight.

When he moved his legs in dirt crumbled off them, he now starts noticing the feeling of dirt caked all over his body and face, and in his hair and clothes. Previously he hadn’t noticed, but now his senses were reporting in normally.

“It’s okay just relax, you’re safe.” A soothing voice retorts. It came from the tallest member of the bunch.

Adam felt angry confusion hitting him in the gut. “Why would I relax? Who the hell are you?” He says, eyes still shifting between their faces, observing their reactions.

“Well you’re gonna find this a little- a lot crazy, but we’re actually your brothers.” Says the other, shorter male, in a less soothing and huskier voice.

The shorter ones eyes dart to the taller man next to him and they exchange a pained glance before the taller of the two starts up again.

“It’s the truth, John Winchester was our father too.” He says pausing before starting again.

“See, I’m Sam-“

Adam’s face shifts into one of displeasure at the instant recognition of the name. The whole thing starts to click as he realizes these are the men the angels told him would come for him.

“Yeah and I’m sure that’s Dean.” Adam deadpans.

The whole lot of men look at each other with startled expressions.

Adam can see the questions brimming on their faces and speaks up before they can start rapid firing their inquiries.

“I know who you are.” He states matter-of-factly.

“How?” Sam returns.

“They warned me about you.” Adam says, narrowing his eyes into a judging squint.

“Who did?” Dean questions.

“The angels.” Adam answers, staring blankly at them.

When Adam doesn’t continue his train of thought, the men pause again to look at each other. Clearly they’re silently debating what to do.

Adam feels a slight annoyance in their unspoken conversations and crosses his arms.

He eyes Sam, picking his tangent back up.

“Now, where the hell is Zachariah?”

——

After a long interrogation, (Mainly from Adam about what the hell was going on.) Sam and Dean convinced Adam to stay with them for the time being.

They offered him a shower and some hand-me-downs which he accepted with reluctance. He would’ve denied but the absurd amount of dirt covering him was more than enough to convince him.

Adam sat in the shower for an unusually long period of time. He scrubbed at his scalp, still feeling the granules of dirt locked deep into his head.

He was so confused. Why him? Why now? What’s even going on? His ‘brothers’ explanations made some sense, but that still left so many missing pieces that he was having trouble with.

The hot water on his skin felt good, it was a nice juxtaposition to the cold dampness of the dirt. Adam hugs his arms to his chest letting the water hit him in the face.

He’s alive. Alive again. He died? Oh yeah he did die. He shudders at the thought of being consumed by some unknown monster wearing his mothers face.

He remembers the pain. He remembers the sadness, the confusion, all of it.

He squeezes his arm, knuckles turning white with the tightness of his grip before letting go. He lets his arms drop down to his sides and stares at the water, watching it pelt the porcelain of the tub.

Adam turns the knob and the water stops.

He steps out of the shower, drying himself with a towel.

He’s been in the bathroom for close to an hour now but thankfully no one’s come to bother him. He figured they were trying to give him his space and he was grateful for that.

Adam walks closer to the mirror, fogged with condensation from the hot shower. He wipes it off with the corner of his towel, clearing a big enough area for him to almost fully see his face and chest in the small reflective area.

His eyes follow the contours of hid body, looking up and down what he could see in the mirror, and tilting his head down to inspect what he couldn’t see in the mirror.

He had no scars. None.

None from his death, none even from his childhood.

His knee no longer has a small thin line from falling out of his grandparents apple tree and landing on a rock, his finger no longer shows any proof of him slicing it with a kitchen knife while trying, and failing, to make mother’s day dinner to surprise his mom. Nothing, his skin is completely- new.

Adam’s breathing slows a little as he catches his own eyes in the reflection. ‘Is this even my body?’ Adam thinks to himself while tracing over his skin with his hands, trying to feel the familiarity of one’s own body.

After a bit more thinking, Adam is dried off and putting on his “new” clothes.

He’ll admit he’s going to miss the likeness of his old outfit but it’s nice to get into something that isn’t damp or covered in grime.

Not to say these clothes were particularly clean, they smelled like dust and had an odd feeling to the cotton material. However it was still a massive upgrade from the condition of his last outfit.

Adam opens the door and steps out of the bathroom, walking down the hall back to the living room. He entered into the smell of mildew and old wallpaper.

Bobby, the man in the wheelchair and owner of the house, offered him a seat on the bed. It was the same bed he had woken up on after he passed out, but the sheets had been changed. There was no proof of Adams dirt-caked body having ever touched the bed.

Adam thanked him for his offer and sat down.

The bed sat in front of a four paneled glass window, each panel covered with an old yellowing lace curtain. There was news paper clippings tapped to the red-patterned wallpaper and books strewn about everywhere. Adam had been taking in his surroundings, properly, when the rest of the four came into the room.

Dean brought a chair with him and sat on it, Sam half sat on a desk in the room and the angel that they had told Adam was ‘Castiel’ opted to stand in the corner of the room, just menacingly staring at Adam.

The men in the room all stared at Adam, the human three watching patiently, until dean started-

“Okay Adam, you got to ask your questions but now we have a few of our own. We want to understand what happened here, so, why don’t you just tell us everything? Start from the beginning.”

Dean said, face open and passive, looking for answers.

Adam shifted and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Well, I was dead and in heaven- except it kinda looked like my prom. I was making out with this girl her name was Kristen McGee-“

Dean cuts him off with a, “Yeah, sounds like heaven. Did you get to third base?”

Sam shoots a disapproving glance and eye roll at dean before he clears his throat. “Just uh, just keep going.”

Adams eyes move between the brothers, feeling Sam’s annoyance in the air he drops the topic of his heaven.

“Well, these angels, they popped out of nowhere and they tell me that I’m chosen.”

“For what?” Sam says, the worry displayed on his brow becoming deeper.

“To save the world.”

“Yeah? How are you gonna do that?” Dean huffs.

“Oh, y’know, me and some archangel are gonna kill the devil.” Adam says confidently but with a shrug.

“What.. What archangel?” Dean responds, a look of confusion and worry now present on his features.

“Michael. I’m his sword or vessel or something.” Adam clarifies, throwing his hands up as he does so.

“Well that’s insane.” Dean says almost chuckling.

Adam furrows his brow at the accusation and attempts to cut in, but Castiel beats him to it.

“Not necessarily.” The dark haired angel pipes up.

“How do you mean?” Dean replies with some aggression in his tone.

“Maybe they’re moving on from you, Dean.” Blue eyes scan over Dean, face cold and vexed.

“Well, that doesn’t make sense.” Dean says raising his voice a little.

“He is John Winchesters bloodline, Sam’s brother….It’s not perfect but it’s possible.” Castiel assures.

“You gotta be kidding me.” Dean says straight faced.

“Why would they do this?” Sam chimes in eventually, after watching the conversation unfold and feeling the heat of anger between Dean and Castiel’s words.

“Maybe they’re desperate. Or maybe they wrongly assumed Dean would be brave enough to withstand them.” Castiel says while glaring at Dean.

Dean clearly doesn’t like the fire in the angels eyes and glares right back.

“Alright, you know what, blow me Cas.”

Dean counters, leaving the angel to furrow his brow in confusion instead of malice.

“Look. No way. After everything that’s happened?” Sam rejoins with a humorless scoff.

“All that crap about destiny and suddenly the angels have a plan B? Does that smell right to anybody??”

The three men share glances, seemingly all of different stances on the issue at hand.

Adams eyes slide over everyone in the room. He feels a certain pressure arising and anxiety tugging in his chest.

“You know, this really has been a moving family reunion but uh.. I gotta thing so.” Adam trails off standing to leave before a large hand lands on his shoulder pushing him back down.

“Woah, sit down. Just listen to me for a second.” Sam pleads.

Adam sits back down and clicks his tongue. “Unbelievable.”

“The angels are lying to you they’re full of crap.” Sam states.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“And why not?”

“Because they’re angels?” Adam says in a mocking voice, trying to convey to Sam that his argument is stupid.

“Huh, well, did the angels tell you they’re going to roast half the planet?”

“Yeah, they told me the fight might get pretty hairy, but it is the devil so we gotta stop him.”

“Yeah, but what if there’s another way?”

After this comment dean sneers at his brother and rolls his eyes.

“Great. What is it?” Adam mocks again.

“Well, we’re working on the power of love.” Dean says with blatant sarcasm, seemingly rejoining the banter.

“Yeah? How’s that going?” Adam adds.

“Mmm, not good.” Dean says, cracking a humorless smile, which earns him an angry frown from Sam.

“Look Adam, you don’t know me but I’m begging you, please trust me. Give me some time.” Sam’s look of sorrow and empathy seemed honestly genuine. This lead Adam to contemplate his answer for a moment.

“Give me one good reason.”

“Because we’re blood.”

“Because we’re-“ Adam repeats, feeling frustration bubbling up inside of him. “You got no right to say that to me.” Adam says raising his voice, feeling the lines deepen in the scowl on his face.

“You’re still John’s boy.” Bobby says gruffly, with a look of sorrow in his old eyes.

“No.” Adam rejects.

“Shut up, none of you know what you’re talking about. John Winchester was some guy who took me to a baseball game once a year. I dont have a dad. So we may be blood but we sure as hell are not family.”

Adam pauses to think for just a moment before picking back up.

“My mom is my family. And if I do my job I get to see her again. So no offense but she’s the one I give a shit about. Not you.”

“Fair enough.” Sam replies

“But if you have one good memory of dad, just one, then you’ll give us a little more time please.”

#sharing my heart baiboop #midam #adam milligan #spn #midam spn #i also wrote this a couple years ago so sorry if it’s not that good #unfortunately i’m so busy with college or else i would revamp it #but i wanted to give it a place to live forever

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cremthehive · 9 months

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Sun in My Eyes; Chapter 2 {Viktor X Fem!OC }{SFW}{1.8k}{Modern!AU}

Summary: Eveline is in the anxiety inducing homestretch of her last year before she graduates with her degree from the academy. An opportunity to work with Hextech’s founders lands right in her lap, which she gladly takes. Only to find out a beautiful stranger she’s been seeing around campus, drawing, and obsessing over... is her boss. CW: Slow burn asf! Talks of anxiety, pining, college stress, cursing A/N: Chapter two is here, ahhh! I hope everyone is enjoying it as much as I am; feedback is more than welcome if you guys have any!

Nothing could’ve prepared Eveline for the thought process that was looming over her head, giggling like a school girl while she kicks her feet wildly before having the revelation that this man could be her boss. The stranger now named Viktor examined the classroom, offering no wave but a subtle nod instead. When those golden eyes of his skim over Eveline in the back, she averts her gaze to the table below her. With her pages of work strewn around in front of her, it was hard to ignore all of her drawings standing out to her like a sore thumb. Insecurities plague her brain as she starts to nitpick over her work. The stress was getting to her in the worst way. It was like this opportunity popping up caused a ten car pileup of stress, anxiety, and her exhaustion catching up to her. To say Eveline wasn’t prepared would be an understatement at this point.

You really can only say you’re ready to move on from a particular chapter in your life until the next chapter pops up, making your statement completely false. Next thing you know, you have new kinds of stress that you have to adjust to and it’s an endless cycle. Like, what if this guy becomes her boss, and he is an utter creep who follows poor Eveline home and kills her in her sleep? For her father’s sake, she didn’t even think of that being an option. Potential love interest gone absolute killer.

But what if he was kind? Helped her when things got rough, bandaged her scraped up knees when she fell and made a mistake? What if there was all these new stresses, but there were all of these rewarding things to look forward? She could help people, make a difference, help those who need the most help. Positivity finally opens a door after all the hardship you go through and welcomes you with big, open arms. Eveline closes her eyes at the pleasing thought as she brushes the loose strands of her hair that framed her face behind her ears to join the rest of her hair clipped with a claw.

Get a grip, focus on the task at hand. There isn’t time for playing pretend. This is job or death time.

At this point, Eveline couldn’t even listen to Jayce’s introduction to the project which was probably, obviously important because her thoughts were a screaming crowd of jesters that insulted and encouraged. Breathe, relax your jaw.

Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. Take this deep breath. Then another. Finish with a third while your shoulders relax. The perfect, cautious lines and curves of Eveline’s work help her to focus on something other than the cold, death-grip that anxiety had a hold on her brain. Look up, focus. Jayce talks with his hands a lot. He’s excited about this project because he’s getting somewhere with his dream. His best friend is at his side, and all of these people that told him it was forbidden and he couldn’t, were praising him now.

“All of the work you’ve put in will be turning into real buildings, it will be paid off. Your jobs are not just drawings which you’ve been doing for the past how many years, they’re art. Plus, you’ll be able to get an inside look on what Hextech really is and what these Hexgates are for. Remember, that these are in the works, but we’re pretty close to being finished.” Jayce was confident, but he was nervous standing in front of everyone. There was sweat on his forehead travelling down the side of his face. Nervous chuckles ended plenty of his sentences, but he never let that slow him down. He takes a deep breath before turning to Viktor. “Viktor, anything to add?” He asks. Viktor leans on his cane with a thoughtful look before nodding.

“To make this easier, we’ll go down the roster that Professor Viola has provided us. Once your name is called, you’ll come to us and present your pieces.” The rich accent rolls off his tongue, that Lanie and her friends obnoxiously swoon over.

“So, as soon as everyone’s ready, which I’m assuming everyone is, we’ll get started.” Jayce adds in, looking around the room for people who weren’t ready. Which was half the class but no one was really prepared for this big opportunity.

“Great. Alright, Juliet Arquette.” Jayce calls, the girl sitting next to Eveline standing and making her way to the front with her work.

Eveline sits impatiently as the first few people go up, both Jayce and Viktor looking through their work with compliments and small talk. Viktor writes down notes for each person while making sure everything looked good to Jayce. All Eveline could do was sit there and trying to fight back the overwhelming feeling to get up and fucking run. No, she was going to endure this. If this fails, at least she tried and that’s more than okay. The important thing is that she gets her foot in the door and shoves it open before it closes again. “Eveline Conti.”

Okay, let’s do this. Eveline stands with confidence, gathering her amazing work before she heads down the steps. A smile graces her lips as she approaches the two men. Her gaze gravitates towards the cane again before trailing up to Viktor. Oh gods, how the hell was he even more attractive up close. The way his eyebrows were tweaked with concentration on finishing the note he was making about the person before her was inspiring. The mole above his lip catches her eye, threatening her mission by plaguing her mind with thoughts on what it looked like right before they kissed but she sets herself straight. Don’t be weird.

“Hello. I’m Eveline. It’s nice to meet you both.” Eveline greets, taking Jayce’s hand as he offers it to her to shake it. Viktor’s head lifts up finally—taken aback as he looks her over. He eventually nods towards her with a smile. She gets the hint and simply offers him back a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you! I’m safe to assume that this is your final year, correct?” Jayce asks, Eveline nods excitedly.

“Yes. I’m pretty excited to be done with this chapter. I’m ready for the next one, whatever that chapter may be. Speaking of which, here is my prints for you to look through.” Eveline splits the pile and hands each of them a half. As much as she hated that public speaking class she took, it was proving to be super helpful in this moment. “If you have any questions, I’m happy to answer.” She adds as the men took their halves. Silence falls over their part of the room. Eveline swallows hard as she watches them look through her works with unreadable facial expressions. Not bad expressions, but not good either. More like poker game neutral. Viktor quietly sighs through his nose, pausing to make a note. Jayce leans over to look at the words being scribbled on the page with an approving noise. “Your designs are a unique type of elegant yet modern. They really know how to catch someone’s eye.” Jayce comments as he looks over her print of an observatory. Her favorite print was in Jayce’s hand, making her heart beat faster than ever. He flips the page over to look at the interior plan of it. Viktor looks over at the observatory print. “I see what you mean.” He mumbles, making a note. It felt like finals all over again. Like your peers dissecting your every stroke of writing, every answer, preparing to harshly put down the wrong answer in red. Time ticks slowly as Eveline felt herself start to sweat. “Thank you. That one is special to me.” She mentions it casually, clasping her hands together to twist her fingers around themselves. After a few more moments of Jayce and Viktor going over the work, they work together to put it back in the right order and hand it back to her. “Thank you for allowing us to look over your work. What’s a good way to contact you?” Viktor asks Eveline, looking up right in her eyes. “Uh...” Eveline hesitates, his eyes capturing her. They were so pretty. So golden. Viktor shifts in his seat under her stare, his eyes peering back down to his notes. Her cheeks heat up violently as she realizes she was staring. Say something. Hurry up and say something. “My phone. You can call me or text me. It should be next to my name on the roster. Or I’m usually around campus before 5... if you are even available to leave.” The words finally make it out of her mouth. “Sounds good. We’ll contact you by the end of the week.” Jayce reassures her. “It was good to meet you, Eveline.” “You too.” Eveline nearly whispers, turning to make her escape with her cheeks red and her heart racing. Class went by quickly after that. There was so many emotions making their way through Eveline; it was like she was back to being a hormonal teenager. Everyone stands as soon as the professor dismisses the class. She turns back to Jayce and Viktor to finish their small conversation. A smile stuck to the older woman’s face as people started filing out of the room, placing their portfolios on the desk where they originally were. Eveline gathers her tote bag, slinging it over her shoulder while grabbing her portfolio. Just have to be close to him one more time, then you maybe don’t have to think about him for a while. Walking up to the front of the classroom, Eveline drops off her portfolio before turning towards the door. Almost there, five more steps. She smiles at the three people standing there, taking an extra moment to remember where the mole was placed on Viktor’s lip as she started to walk. “Eveline, wait just a moment.” Professor Viola’s voice breaks her stride. Eveline pauses, turning towards her. “Sure.” She responds, tucking her hair behind her ear. Viktor watches her hand’s every moment, his fingers twitching. Jayce turns towards Viktor, the two silently conversing with a nod. With that excited smile plastered on Jayce’s face he turns to Eveline. Viktor stands with the support of his cane, handing her an envelope.

“How would you like to design the Hexgates and work for us?” Viktor asks.

Eveline’s eyes widen, blinking a few times. No. Am I dreaming? Viola is grinning now, her hands clasped together as she waits for Eveline’s answer. This is it, this is my ticket. Eveline’s mouth opens to say something then closes again. Her head shakes as she takes a breath. With confidence, she nods her head as she looks up to Viktor.

“I would absolutely love to.”

#arcane #arcane viktor x oc #viktor x oc #arcane viktor #viktor #viktor arcane #who's ready for the next chapter because ooh it's gonna be a big one

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inkrabbit · 1 year

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Summoning - Beta

I've had this sitting in my laptop for a bit. tossed it into grammarly, didn't skim through it after that. So enjoy what is meant to be the prologue to a fic where Nihil summons his ghouls and goes throughout life with them. this will most likely not be worked on anytime soon

Word count: 3,233

Disclaimer: I called Nihil "Damien" in this fic. I coined it as his first name since "Nihil" is meant to come from Ares later on

The book is open in front of him, his eyes scanning the old text. Okay, Sister said to do this one at a time. He takes a deep breath, staring down at the knife in his hand as his hold on the handle tightened. He could do this. Some blood and a clear mind. He brings the blade up, pressing it against his palm. Breathe in. Breathe out.

One... two... three-

He slices his palm open with a cry, the blood rushing to the service. He curls his hand closed, letting his blood coat his fingers before reopening, moving on his knees and pressing his palm against the cold stone floor. It stings so bad, tears pricking at his eyes, but he tries to focus on the summoning – tries to swallow down the rising anxiety that's choking him.

“I call upon you, my faithful ghoul,” he starts, trying desperately to keep his voice steady. His heart is hammering in his chest, threatening to break through his rib cage as it thunders in his ears. “As you listen to my every command and take care of me, view me as your master, I, too, shall see to it that you are safe and shall prosper.”

He knows he's fumbled over his words, silently cursing himself for sounding so foolish. But he feels how the air around him grows cold, a soothing scent flooding him. The smell of a crisp, autumn night with a hint of metal. The flames that lit his candles flicker before suddenly going out, smoke enveloping the room. His body shivers at the temperature drop. This... isn't what he had expected. Creatures from Hell were meant to be hot, right?

It's a strong wind that makes his eyes clamp shut, chin tucked against his collarbone as he tried in a futile attempt to shield himself from the cold.

“Excuse me? Master?” The voice is so soft as the wind finally dies down. He brings his head up, a soft squeak escaping his lips at the sight. The sketches in his book couldn't have prepared him for this.

Standing before him is a ghoul, his skin a light gray, as are his eyes, those vertical slits sending a shiver up his spine. But despite it all, he looks... human. Sure, the weird pupils, black sclera, gray skin, and curled horns were a dead giveaway that this was something entirely unearthly, but everything else was normal. That light, sandy blonde hair, curling and falling just past the end of his eyebrow. His lips – albeit a darker shade of gray, almost reminding him of a corpse's lips – were plush-looking and parted as he stared down at him, bent at the waist. The letterman jacket catches his eye; red with white sleeves and accents. He recognized that jacket. That was from the local college, right? Yeah. It was funny, in a way. The ghoul even looked familiar to him... if he looked past all of the demonic traits.

“I- uh...” He's at a loss. Truth be told, he didn't think any of this would work. He still thought everything was bullshit – that he would return to the surface and be laughed at. Tossed out on his ass and sent on his way.

But that's not the case, is it? This is all real. Everything he's been through – everything he's done. Everything he's going to do.

He fucked up.

Now's not the time, he decides. Clearing his throat, he straightens himself up, picking himself up off the floor. His bleeding hand is clenched in a tight fist as he gnaws at the inside of his bottom lip, picking the words carefully. He was supposed to be commanding; assertive. But this... creature. His mismatched eyes glance down, admiring those sharp, black claws adorning his slender fingers. How easily could they slash his throat if he was too harsh and made the ghoul snap?

“Hello... ghoul,” he starts slowly, forcing a smile to his lips. He wished it would've looked genuine, but he knows he looks terrified. “I'm Damien Emeritus, your new master.”

“It's nice to meet you.” And he bows. It's a sight to behold, one that makes Damien... a little uneasy. It's so new and foreign. The ghoul actually drops to one knee, his head hanging as he props his elbow on his knee.

“Ah... you can... stand up now.” It's a small detail, but he notices. When the ghoul picks up his head, he doesn't make eye contact. Instead, he's looking... at his cheek? Now that he thinks about it, the ghoul wasn't holding eye contact earlier either.

Maybe it's just a ghoul thing. “What's your name?”

“I'm-” But he stops abruptly. It's now that Damien sees the spade tail behind him, flicking back and forth. Is he upset?

“You don't have to answer,” he tells him quickly, the worry of having upset the ghoul having scared him.

“It's okay!” And yet, he's the one taking a more defensive position, hands up as he shrinks back just that little bit. “I-I do have a name but... masters typically name their ghouls themselves. Knowing our real name takes a lot of trust.”

“I'm sorry.” He stands there for a bit. Naming his ghoul? No one told him he had to name these things! He literally had a cat as a teen that he just simply named Kat. He supposed he could just name them all Ghoul and be done with it but... this all felt different. Like, in a way, he actually knew the ghoul. “What's your element?”

“Air.” Okay. He could work with this. His mind draws a blank for a second, but he remembers the old mythology books that he had on his bookshelf... somewhere. There was an air god. Four of them, if he remembered correctly.

“Notus?” The name comes tumbling from his lips, faster than he intended. Still, the ghoul gives him a bright smile, nodding his head.

“If that's what you wish to call me, master.” And again, he bows. Not as deeply this time, but his hand goes over his heart as he bends at the waist.

Notus steps out of the drawn pentacle, taking a stand in the far corner, his hands folded in front of him. Alright. So far so good. Though he felt hesitant about all of this at first, he can feel the pride and excitement well up in his chest. Maybe he was actually good at something.

He repeats the same action, summoning the next ghoul. He wonders if it'll be another air ghoul. Would they all be air ghouls? He was told they would match his energy. Would this element be his match?

The smell that envelopes the room sends his mind back. It's like he's back at the lake and, for a moment, he lets the memory wash over him; the sound of the crickets chirping as he laid on his towel. His eyes slip shut, reveling in the memory. The warm summer breeze that had washed over him; the soft music coming from the car as his friends laughed in the distance.

A shadow is cast over him and his eyes snap open, his jaw-dropping. This ghoul is a sight to behold.

“Oh.” He swallows thickly as he towers over him. “You're... big...”

The ghoul is almost a foot taller than him, his skin a desaturated blue, and his curly hair stopping just above his shoulders. Those eyes reminded him of the ocean, such beautiful orbs that could've held him in a trance. His tail is held up behind him, but he's surprised to see it's not in the shape of a spade. Instead, it's a giant, flowing, colorful fin; a beautiful coral red color starting at the base, blending into a cobalt blue before finally transitioning to a light blue. It reminded him of one of those betta fish he would see at the stores, swimming around in those small little glass bowls.

Just like Notus, this ghoul sinks down to one knee, his head bowed. His horns are curled and smooth, a light blue color that almost bordered indigo. However, he stays silent.

“It's nice to meet you,” Damien tries. The ghoul picks his head up, giving him a smile, a small chuff being sent his way. Okay? Damien glances over at Notus, seeing how he shrugs. “Ah... are you also an air ghoul?”

He shakes his head. Glancing around the room, he points at the water bottle Damien had left forgotten on the old table.

“You're a water ghoul?” A nod. Okay. He's getting somewhere. “Should I also name you as well?” Another nod. “Okay. How about... Neptune?”

It seems good enough for the ghoul. And to his surprise, the giant creature stands, taking him into his arms in a sort of hug. Really, it reminded him of a child picking up a stuffed animal and squeezing it, his face nuzzling against Damien's cheek. He's surprised none of his bones snap underneath the pressure. But still, seeing that smile on Neptune's face transferred to his. He even laughs softly as he watched him join Notus in the corner, arms open like he was inviting the other for a hug as well. It was no surprise when the smaller ghoul politely declined.

Yeah. This was gonna be okay. Everything was going to be okay.

And so he begins the next summoning with the two ghouls watching him intently. Just like Notus, the air drops considerably, shaking him to his core. This feels so much worse and he watches as his fingers turned a bright red. He could even see the other two shivering in the corner, Notus having gotten closer to Neptune for any bit of warmth.

The smell is what gets him next, hitting him like a freight train. It's sharp, suffocating. The smell of iron; rust; something sickly that makes his head spin, but there's something else. Something that makes his nose scrunch up as he coughs. It smells like a fire, that invisible, thick smoke closing in around him. But the smell of smoke isn't normal. It's not the same smell he'd get whenever he was close to a grass fire, and it's more than the burning wood one would smell from a campfire. There's something underneath it all; something that smelled like charred meat and it's making him sick.

The ghoul that appears before him is quite the sight. Though he's nowhere near as tall as Neptune, he looks like he's made of pure muscle. And despite the questionable, scary scent he had brought with him, his face was beautiful. White eyes seem to glow as they stare at him, his large horns decorated in what seemed to be lightly colored runes. His hair is shaved at the sides, the rest of it separated at the top in three braids, with the thickest being in the middle, decorated with silver beads. The face paint is beautiful, a stark white against his dark skin, those bright freckles dusting his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. There's such symmetry in his markings, and he notices more as he looks at the ghoul's hands. His fingers are lighter than the rest of his skin, though those black claws still adorn each digit. He reminds him of those Vikings he had heard about. He never did much research on them, save for the one project his old professor had the class do. Did he even finish that project?

“Master.” The title is bitter as it escapes the ghoul's lips, sending a chill up his spine. He missed the silence he got from Neptune. Still, the ghoul looks around, eyes lingering on the other ghouls when he sees them. “What is my purpose?”

“I would like to go over that when everyone is here.” Oh, if looks could kill. There was a dangerous fire in his eyes, but he just lets out a low and menacing hum. Still, he takes the same position as the others.

“What shall my name be?” He picks his head up. A part of Damien feels bad as he stares at him. The ghoul looks... tired; irritated and, in a way, unnerved. “I will be your quintessence ghoul for as long as you'll have me.”

“Quintessence?” he parrots softly. That wasn't a word you hear every day, but he could work with it. His eyes flick over to Notus. “Astraeus.” He turns his gaze to the ghoul bowing before him. “Is that okay?”

“Whatever you see fit.” He stands, not even sparing a second glance as he joins the others. Damien watches him carefully, seeing the way he hesitates a bit as he gets closer. He even shrinks back when Neptune opens his arms. Hopefully he would find peace with the group.

The next summon fills the room with a smell that reminded him of the woods. But this ghoul is different from the others. The antlers catch his eye first, dark tips transitioning to a light color. Sharp teeth also hang past his lips, reminiscent of an oni devil. The scar on his neck looks nasty, but he decides questions like that should be saved for a later date. The ghoul is about the same height as Astraeus, but he's a bit thinner. His hair is a dark brown, almost black in the dim light, wavy and stopping above his shoulders just like Neptune. And like Astraeus, he has freckles that decorate his cheeks, along with red-orange markings on his cheeks and underneath his eyebrows. He also notes the dull fingernails that would normally adorn human hands.

The ghoul doesn't bow, either. Instead, he slowly walks around the small room, eyes trailing over everything and everyone. Damien stays kneeling on the ground, intimidated by the ghoul that stands before him now, a smirk on his face.

“You should be loyal to your ghouls,” he tells Damien. His voice is the scariest thing about him. It's like multiple low and raspy voices overlap each other and the only word he can think to describe it is: demonic. “they could turn on you.”

Okay. Good to know. “What element are you?”

“Earth.”

He wracks his brain for a bit. An earth ghoul. If his memory served correct, he remembered reading about a god who protected the forest, or something similar to that. “May I call you Silvanus?”

A scoff. “Sure. Why not?” His eyes linger on him for a moment longer before he finally turns. His tail is tipped with dark fur. How odd.

Damien's heart breaks a bit when he sees Neptune, again, open his arms for the ghoul, only to have Silvanus growl out, “Don't touch me.” He hoped they would all get used to each other soon. He didn't know how to stop demons from fighting if it came to that point.

Okay. One more. He had enough energy to summon one last ghoul. And he only had enough blood seeping from his palm for one last ghoul. So he presses his hand to the cold stone floor one last time, calling out into the night. He's tired. He's intimidated. He's regretting every decision he's ever made in life that has led him up to this point. He's just over it.

This time, the temperature rises, and quickly. He sees the ghouls in the corner move, spreading out and looking uncomfortable. Silvanus is even removing the leather jacket he wore, his face upturned in a scowl. The smell of gunpowder is strong, along with that faint smell of charred meat. Just like Astraeus.

Sweat is beading on his forehead as the last ghoul appears in front of him; the shortest of them all, he assumes, but the most aggressive looking. His jaw is clenched, hands curled in tight fists as those violet-blue eyes glare down at him, his lips curled up into a sneer. His horns are black and rigid, curled high and intimidating.

“Hello, ghoul,” Damien starts slowly, finally standing up, his knees aching. He's only a couple inches shorter than the last summon. So why does he still feel so small compared to him? “I'm-”

“I don't care.” Okay. That was quick. “I'm a fire ghoul. Just name me and tell me my purpose.”

Perfect. He already knows what to call this one. “Would Ares work?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, his tail flicking behind him. But the second he looks around, that rage seems to get worse. “More ghouls?” He turns his attention back to Damien. “Just what the hell do you want with all of us?”

“That's what I'd like to go over with you all now.” He gives him a smile, opening his arms a bit. “I'm Damien Emeritus. I've summoned you all for a project this church is working on.”

“Church?” Silvanus parrots, rolling his eyes as his arms cross his chest. “If the only thing you want us for is to show off, I'd rather go back right now. I don't have time for this.”

“It's not to 'show off!'” When he was summoning these ghouls, he didn't think any of them would have such an attitude. “Look, I'm still new to all of this-”

“That much is obvious,” Ares sneers. Was it too late to send them back? At least him and the earth ghoul.

“But I'd like to make all of this work.” They're looking at him curiously. The unease on Astraeus has only worsened and he watches as he scoots further to the back. “Our project is called Ghost. Sister Imperator, Mr. Salturion, and I wish to spread the word of Satan through music.”

“And you just... assume that we all know how to play instruments?” Silvanus asks. He had a point.

“I can only play the piano,” Notus chimes in.

“You fucking would!”

“Enough!” Notus had moved further behind Neptune when Silvanus snapped, shooting Damien a thankful look. “Whether or not you guys know how to play doesn't matter. We can always practice.” He smiles at Notus. “The fact that you can already play the piano is great. We need a keyboardist.” He turns his attention to the others. “Can any of you play any instruments?”

“I think I remember how to play the guitar,” Ares responds. “I'll probably need a bit to... get used to it again.”

“I used to play the drums for a small band in my town,” Silvanus says next. “Before...” It's the first time he pauses, a distant look in those mossy-green eyes. “Well, before I had to stop.”

“Perfect!” He looks at Astraeus with a smile. “Can you play anything?”

“I doubt I'd be any help,” he scoffs. “Back when I was alive, I only played a lyre.”

“Alive?” He forgets all about the whole project,now focused on the information the ghoul just gave him. “You were... wait, were you a human before?”

“A Viking,” Astraeus clarifies. “We didn't have anything too fancy back then.”

“You, too?” Silvanus is finally showing interest. A thought crosses Damien's mind.

“Raise your hand if you were human before becoming a ghoul.” There's a moment of stillness. Finally, they all raise their hands.

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seamgel · 11 months

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The Two Best Friends

[a Kier and Dev oneshot based on my friends vamp!Dev au]

His staggered, almost limping steps made quiet 'plop' sounds as the puddles dampened the soles of his shoes, the former rain came and went, washing away the dirt of the empty, hazy streets. The caloused tips of his nails tread over his sickly pale skin, threatening to draw blood with how tightly he gripped his forearm underneath the baggy form of his sweater. His clothes had seemed to outgrow him, since the only "food" he could consume without vomiting was blood, and by god, he hated drinking blood.

His once vibrant, red hair was dull and matted beyond help; with nothing but pain lacing every inch of his existence, he couldn't bring himself to care.

The drizzle started to pick up again, he would walk faster if only he could, but his body seemed to welcome the cold better than he did. His teeth- no, his fangs bit into his dry lip out of anxiety, no blood escaped the minor wound as he had yet to drink any since yesterday. He hated it, he hated it, but he didn't regret it.

Slowly making his way over to the house, and up the steps to the door, he hesitated. Clawed hands wrapped around the doorknob like a snake, he knew that if he had drank beforehand, he could break down the door with just sheer strength alone and he was tempted to try; But he didn't want to, at risk of upseting his dearest friend even more and passing out from exhaustion. Raising a fist to limply knock at the door, the seconds turned to minutes, he could barely hold up straight anymore.

The legs of his overalls hastily dragged against the floor as he stumbled, only managing to keep himself upright because of the railing nearby. His breath was shallow, a bitter taste lingering in his mouth; he feels like he had just been turned again, like the fangs had just met his skin and flesh, like the first blood he'd tasted- In a dreary gaze, he could make out the door unbarring nothing but a crack, before it swung open full force, causing him to trip over nothing again. As his face nearly met with the ground, a firm grip stopped it from doing so, but perhaps it couldn't stop the man from turning to a mere ragdoll under the minimum weight of his own figure.

Dev was pissed.

But as he looked at his hopeless, lost friend, who once was optimistic, he could feel his cold heart start to shatter. Kier's clothes were tattered and dirty, he didn't seem to have showered in a week and he was undeniably frail. He couldn't turn a blind eye anymore, not to his best friend, to the person who needs him the most right now. He kept Kier supported as he walked them through the door, trying and failing to close it with his foot whilst not allowing them to topple over. He manoeuvred to lay Kier down over the couch, who grimaced in pain, his muscle spasms were obvious no matter how hard he tried to make them stop. His eyes were dazed, filled with tears and he was covered in water, must've caught out in the rain.

But there they were, staring right back at Dev. Two scarred holes on Kier's wrist, still a slight scarlet colour from the recency.

He let his friend get hurt.

And he wanted to cry.

Kier's breathing still shallow, but at a more paced tone, he seemed to have passed out the second his head laid on the armrest of the couch. Dev choked back a sob, his body trembling with the tears that escaped his eyes, but even so, he couldn't help but stand and gaze upon the man he used to know, together since elementary, they'd lost contact after- He gently shook his head, deep blue hair swaying with the jittery motion, taking his scratching claws away from the bite mark on his upper arm. He liked to not think about it, and he had someone to take care of, he couldn't waste anymore time wondering about past events. So he swallowed the cries and kept his posture straight with crossed arms;

He turned to the direction of the front door, going over to close it properly, locking and making sure no one was nearby through the dusty window. Not much to go off of, as the area had completely been enclosed with fog. After he had made sure Kier was comfortable on the couch with pillows and a blanket he found in the closet, he trudged about his cold house, the walls painted a faded yellow, useless items scattered across the place and grime covering every surface. His life had gone haywire ever since he'd been turned, he lost almost all connection with friends and barely left the house, or his room at all.

His grey t-shirt was rather untidy after all the days he'd been wearing it, so he grabbed another outfit and went to change in the bathroom, mentally preparing himself for what he was going to be doing. As his brown eyes glanced in the mirror, he saw no one looking back. Probably for the best, he wasn't in a much better hygiene condition than Kier was. But he did what he had to if it meant his survival, not that he'd ever die.

Tearing his peer from the empty reflection, he adorned himself with black sweatpants and a soft brown sweater. Dev left to enter the kitchen, opening the fridge to see nothing but piles of ziplock bags, all filled with blood. His light toned hand reached in to pull out two, he would've taken the blood-ridden pieces of meat from the freezer because he knows it feels much better than drinking from a straw, but he also knew Kier would be too freaked out to even try despite being the reckless man he is.

He understood what it felt like to be that scared, and so, so alone. All he could do was provide the support he should have given when he found out what Kier had done; But he felt all too guilty, this happened because of him, he was the reason his best friend rested, sick and disgruntled, on the couch. He knew he should have tried harder at keeping it a secret, he knew Kier wouldn't want him to go through it alone.

He put the bags on the coffee table, staring at the unmoving figure before deciding to get him a new pair of clothes. They were almost the same size, when one wasn't malnourished. A black pair of bell bottoms, a dark grey longsleeve and white jacket, he knew Kier liked monotonous outfits, it hurt his eyes if there were too many different colours.

Next to the sleeping man, he placed the clothes, taking one last look over. He memorized every detail of his slightly tanner skin, how his bright, red hair contrasted with his charcoal eyes, the muted yet colourful sweater that loosely hung overhim, the denim overalls, and white sneakers.

He knew Kier may have been struggling but in his anger, he left him behind without console, assuming he would take care of himself as he always did.

Dev knew Kier, he knew him, he knows him.

The neighbourhood was quite, the mist had rolled over everything, and the suns light was mostly dimmed, water dripping from ever gutter. The closed, grey curtains stayed without movement, the chipped areas of the maroon paint on the outer walls reminiscence of when they were children that used to play outside with the tennis balls they found. The dusted windows and the creaky, dark oak door left locked for a while now; The yard was unattended and matted with weeds and overgrowth, along with the old birch tree that started to lose more of it's leaves over the years, they used to create things with the sticks, swords and bows to fight off the monsters they made up. The small house with it's grey, triangular roof, rusted and a bird once made a nest in one of the water pipes, before it got washed away by pouring rain a few years ago.

All and everything, with every minute detail and all knowing thoughts, nothing could describe the two men, two best friends that took residence in the shabby house they once grey up in.

#colourcrew #colorcrew #kier and dev #kier and dec fanfic #angst fanfic #angst oneshot #mcyt fanfiction #tw angst #cw angst #tw blood #cw blood #mcyt #angst fanfiction #childhood friends trope #vampire au #vamp!dev au #pos.writes

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nervouslaughter05 · 1 year

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Of Monsters and Men Chapter 4: Saved by a Ghost

A/N: Here it is! Chapter 4!!!

Finally more Ghost appearances here! MAH BOIIIIIIIIII

As always CW: canon-typical violence, blood and injury, nothing is explicitly described, Grizzly and Co. kill people, language

Come yell at me on Twitter @vegas719 and my art insta @timetoart05

Masterlist

Grizzly sucks in a sharp breath, reacting almost instantly. Rifle still slung over her back from its position against the ground, she shoves the barrel up and away with enough force to make the man stumble. She scrambles from the hollow, dodging to the side to avoid a bullet to the gut and instead gets grazed. Ignoring the spike of pain, she keeps moving. She slings the rifle over her back to gain mobility and dives at his torso, sending them both toppling to the ground.

They wrestle in the dirt, each of them trying to subdue the other.

He was taller than her by almost four or so inches and built bigger as well, meaning if she got pinned it was basically a guaranteed game over. So she fights, and she fights with a passion to stop that from happening. When she knocked him over, the pistol had fallen from his grasp and was now lying menacingly in the grass just a couple feet away. He reaches for it and the moment of distraction while she has him pinned down with her knees against his arms is enough for their positions to switch.

He straddles her chest, trapping her legs beneath him while one arm is twisted behind her back and pressed against the ground while he holds her other wrist in his firm hold.

‘No!’ Grizzly thinks, struggling in his hold. ‘I can’t go out-not like this!’

A hand closes around her throat and she struggles to breathe through the increasing pressure against her windpipe. The edges of her vision are starting to go dark. She fights against the panic rising in her throat, trying to quickly think of a way to make it out of this alive. In her struggle, the arm pinned behind her back had been able to slip further out. Getting an idea, she gradually stops struggling, trying to make it seem like the lack of oxygen was making her pass out–not that she wasn’t close to that point. He buys the act, loosening his grip enough for her to move.

She grabs at the pistol strapped to her right thigh, pulling it out and not wasting a moment before she’s putting a bullet between his ribs.

He rolls off, clutching at his side while reaching for his own pistol. Grizzly fires a shot at his head, the bullet dropping him hunched over on the ground, dead. She breathes heavily, chest heaving up and down as she lowers the pistol. Now hyper aware of her surroundings, she puts the pistol away and grabs her rifle again, trudging further into the undergrowth.

She raises the hand not pressing against her side to her neck, fingers brushing against bare skin where her throat mic was supposed to be.

“Shit” Grizzly curses, glancing behind her while wondering when or how she had lost the com unit.

She realizes it must’ve been when that guy had grabbed her throat and then fallen over since he basically clawed into the skin there. He had probably yanked it off and she’d been too hyped up on adrenaline and the thought of survival to even think to check. Knowing the team had no way of contacting her and vice versa digs the pit of anxiety deeper in her gut, and she resolves to get to the safehouse as quickly as possible.

The sun was beginning to rise now, rays of light filtering through the treetops.

As the adrenaline wears off, the pain from the bullet graze on her leg and side and the bruises she’d gotten in the fight begins to surface. She ignores the pain, continuing to move with her rifle in hand since she didn’t know if there were any other hidden assailants. If she sat down to rest it would leave her a target as she dressed her wounds, so she deemed it not worth it for the time being.

Every rustling leaf and animal cry had her on edge, and it wasn’t long before the exhaustion began to get to her.

Despite knowing the danger of stopping, Grizzly also knew that if she didn’t stop soon, there was a higher risk of her falling or hurting herself from exhaustion. She finds a spot to hide herself in, tucked away in a bunch of rocks and overgrown tree roots so that if someone walked by they wouldn’t immediately see her. She sets about cleaning and doing some quick stitches on the grazes, finishing it off with a wad of cotton and some gauze to hold it in place. Handling the one on her side is much more difficult and she has to bite back a whine several times, but she still gets it done.

The whole time she remains alert, listening for anyone who could be a danger.

She hears the hushed voices of a couple of men, and by the sound of it they were heading right for her hiding spot. Cursing internally, Grizzly firmly grasps her rifle, dropping the used medical materials carelessly on the ground. The men keep heading her way, and she’s able to pick out what they were saying a little better than before.

“Gotta find the woman. You take the doc and those dumbasses are like little fawns just waiting to be shot.”

A chuckle. “Should make sure she pays kindly for taking out Tanem like she did.”

“Agreed.”

She holds her breath, shifting slowly into a more combat ready position so that when they came she was prepared. The movement must have revealed her position somehow, because a warning shot is fired in her direction, hitting a root just a few inches to the left of her face. It catches her off guard, but she stills, entire body tense. There’s a beat of silence as the footsteps suddenly still, and she tries to figure out where the men were.

Until one of them peeks right into the place she’d tucked herself into with a rifle.

Grizzly aims her own rifle up, but right before she has a chance to fire the man drops to the ground with a thump. There’s a sharp yell of alarm from his companion that’s suddenly cut off with a choked gurgle. She stills again, praying that this wasn’t someone she needed to be worried about.

“Grizzly?”

The Manchester accent alerts her to who it was immediately, and she quickly hurries from the spot she’d tucked herself into. The sight before her is one she takes in gratefully, trotting to her teammate. His eyes rake over her, likely taking in the bandages hastily wrapped around her thigh and the blood stain on her shirt.

“Injured?” he asks, watching as she zips up her med kit and slings it back over her front.

She looks up at him. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“And your throat?”

“Ah,” Grizzly replies, swallowing and feeling a spike of pain from the action. “Encountered a hostile while hiding out. Thought it’d be a good idea to try and choke me out. That’s how I lost my mic. What about you? Encounter anything?”

He hesitates a moment, seeming to deliberate whether or not he should answer her. When she fixes him with a hard stare, he simply huffs and nods once–likely because he knew she wouldn’t stop pestering him until she got the chance to look it over.

“How serious?” she asks, already unzipping her pack and checking over the remaining materials she had.

“Not enough to stop.”

Grizzly’s head snaps up so her eyes meet his. “Ghost-”

He cuts her off. “We need to move.”

“Lieutenant,” she insists, watching him collect his knives and any spare ammo from the men. “If you are seriously injured I need to treat you. Price is gonna have my head if I bring you to him dead.”

He makes that scoffing huff noise. “And he’d ‘ave mine if it was reversed for ya. Now tha’ we’ve established this, let's move.”

Grizzly sighs, zipping up her pack as he radioes in to Price to confirm he’d found her and they were heading to the safehouse. She can’t hear any of the other’s responses, but based on the way Ghost rolls his eyes while they walk she can assume Soap is talking. She watches their surroundings, rifle grasped firmly in her hands. He falls silent after signing off, and they trot along in silence after that.

It reminds her of when the two of them first met back when she was still with the Raiders–how he was dead silent save for when giving orders and she was the only one who didn’t try to engage in a conversation with him. At the time, she’d recognized he wasn’t a small talk kind of person and thus hadn’t tried. As they continued to work together, she gradually began to try to interact in small ways. Eventually, they were able to hold entire conversations, but that only came about as the result of a near death experience in which she had just torn into a corporal for not watching their backs as he needed to.

Part of her misses those days when she was a marine, not having to worry about anything more pressing than ensuring her soldiers stayed alive long enough to fight another day and be able to return home to their families in one piece. When she was still bright-eyed and hopeful, thinking that enlisting right out of high school was the best idea one could ever have. When she hadn’t yet known the feeling of taking someone else’s life or having them bleed out in her grasp as she tried desperately to save them.

She wonders faintly if she’ll die in the field someday, laid out in the middle of nowhere with a bullet or a knife lodged in her skin.

She gets tugged back by the bitch strap of her vest, not harshly but firm enough to make her stumble a bit. As she turns to Ghost to ask what the hell he was doing, he simply tugs her more firmly as he picks up his pace, veering away from the normal path and onto a more rough one. Grizzly follows as quickly as she can, forcing through the pain in her leg from the sudden change in pace.

Just as she’s getting used to the pace and direction they’re heading, she gets tugged by her bitch strap again and this time is also shoved down. Before she can react in a violent manner, she catches sight of the skull mask and stills. He squeezes into the hollow, his back to her as they settle in.

“You better have a good excuse for this,” she whispers, trying not to squirm in the uncomfortable spot he’d forced them both into. “Otherwise I’m gonna have to assume my charm was too much for you to keep your composure.”

“Hush” Ghost hisses back, sliding a gloved hand over her mouth right as she opens it to give a snappy reply.

She listens to him, ears perked intently for any noise. If he had decided to shove them both down into this hiding spot instead of fighting then there must have been something dangerous nearby. Grizzly leans back as far as she can in the cramped space, pulling him back with her. His hand falls from over her mouth, bracing against the dirt above their heads.

As she’s controlling her breathing, that’s when she realizes just how <i>close</i> they are to one another. She was tucked against his side, beneath the arm with the hand braced to the ceiling. His legs were over her own while one arm was in a position similar to the one he was holding and the other was curled over her rifle. Subconsciously she found herself matching his breathing, calming the fierce racing of her heart.

The silence eats at her little by little, the urge to squirm–to run away from whatever the threat was–increasing with each passing minute. Ghost must have sensed her rising worry, because she feels a gloved hand press gentle against her nape. She chances a quick look at him, catching him with his eyes still trained straight ahead.

“Ghost-”

A branch snaps, and she tightens the grip on her rifle. Footsteps follow, a low voice grumbling irritably. Grizzly fights the urge to jump out and face the approaching individual just to get the interaction over with.

“Easy now,” Ghost murmurs just barely loud enough for her to hear, so close she could faintly feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke.

She doesn’t look at him, giving a simple nod of her head and waiting.

He shifts slowly, and it’s only after a solid twenty seconds that she realizes he’s getting one of his knives. The footsteps grow closer, the grumbling becoming more clear. The accent is American, sounding like whoever was talking had a horrible cold–probably from somewhere on the East Coast–and she tenses up.

The current position they had gotten themselves into wasn’t ideal for facing a threat, but considering Ghost could practically throw his knives blind, this wasn't a concern for her. A pair of boots come into view about two feet from her face, stopping for a moment and speaking into the open air–talking in some com system maybe?-before moving on. The breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding is released slowly, tension bleeding slightly from her shoulders.

They wait a few more minutes, listening for any other noise before even considering crawling out. Ghost clambers out first, ready to fight anything that may be outside while she slowly uncurls herself from the cramped position she had taken while he was inside the hollow with her. When he doesn’t drop down injured or make any sudden moves to indicate an enemy being present, she climbs out. Ghost offers a hand, something she’s grateful for considering her thigh and side were burning now, and she takes it.

Once she’s out, he starts leading them back in the direction of the safehouse, staying away from the path. He radios in to Price again, alerting him there were potential hostiles in the area and to keep an eye out. Grizzly stays alert the entire walk, trying to keep pace with her lieutenant and ignoring the pain she was in.

They reach the metal fence when the sun was nearly fully risen in the sky, Grizzly needing some assistance to clear it because of her injuries. Ghost didn’t seem to have any trouble getting over, but then again he also was a behemoth of a man who was used to going days without getting medical care besides however he treated himself.

By the time they were around a quarter of the way to the safehouse, that’s when she really notices her adrenaline running out and the pain fully setting in. By half she was nearly limping and just barely managing to keep pace with Ghost. By three quarters of the way, Grizzly was gritting her teeth against the pain. For the final quarter, she was ready to collapse, about to do so right as the safehouse came into view.

“Thank fuck,” she says, pausing for a moment to gather herself before proceeding further.

“Don’t thank anything yet,” Ghost tells her, looking even more on edge than he did before the safehouse came into sight. “We ‘ave no way o’ knowin’ who or what’s in there.”

She’s reminded of the fact none of the others had radioed in to confirm arriving at the safehouse, mostly because Price had declared them to go basically dark unless deemed absolutely necessary once she and Ghost had joined up. It could be anyone inside those walls. The thought of what the two of them might find inside is enough to inspire her fight instinct.

Ghost leads the way in, body partially shielding her own as she watches the back.

They make their way through the safehouse, thoroughly searching every hiding spot they could think of. They make it back to the front door, and Grizzly finally lets her guard down a little. There’s a noise to their left. She and Ghost spin with rifles raised just to see a raccoon had gotten in and knocked something over.

The creature stares at them with bored, beady, black eyes and then runs away to another part of the safehouse.

“It’s clear,” Ghost says, going to the door and locking it.

She sits down on a chair, settling with a wince as the movement aggravates the graze on her thigh and the bruises to her sides. “What about the others?” she asks, motioning to the now locked door. “What if they need in?”

“They’ll figure something out. For now, we prioritize ourselves,” the lieutenant replies, fixing her with a hard look. “Understood?”

Grizzly nods. “Understood.”

#original work #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x female oc #ghost call of duty #i love simon riley #call of duty #original character

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greta-van-chaos · 2 years

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Hi!! can you do a Jake x reader where it’s y/n’s first time riding.. and Jake is gentle and careful and helpful? I’m very much in the need for sweet sexy Jake.

For The First Time

Jake Kiszka x Reader

Warnings | Explicit sexual content, cursing, riding eyo, little bit of anxiety, praise

Word Count | 1.3k words

Authors Note | Hello my friends! These past weeks have been an emotional rollercoaster for me and I've barely had time to write but don't fret! I'm off for a few days from school so I can prioritize writing a little bit more!

Jake has you pinned to the mattress with his hips against yours, softly grinding against you every so so often to relieve the pressure in his pants. You claw at his back when his lips trail from your cheek, to your jawline down to your neck. Tipping your head back into the plush blanket beneath you a whine makes it's way out of you and you pull Jake closer by his hair.

"Look at me." He whispers and when you cast your gaze down your body feels like an electric current has passed through it, his eyes are wide, pupils lust-blown and his lips are glossy with his own spit.

He kisses down your neck to your chest and when he gets to the valley of your breasts he dips down to lick a stripe over the skin.

"I want you to ride me." Jake's words are mumbled into the soft flesh of your abdomen, right above the hem of your sweatpants. Your stomach churns. Ride him? You'd never done that before.

You grip his hair and pull him to your lips. You'd do anything for Jake and you tell him so, whispering such against his perfect lips. A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips and before you can process it he's removed himself from his position on top of you and is now sitting with his back against the headboard.

The anxiety really starts to set in now, seeing him watching you so excitedly. You sit with your knees pressed into the mattress, regarding him for a moment as you try to compose yourself.

Jake beckons you with a finger, a lustful haze in his eyes "Come here baby, ride my cock until you can't remember your name."

"Jake I--" You get a little choked up, nervous you'll disappoint him with your lack of experience. "I've never done this before... I'm not quite sure how--" You cut yourself off again and look away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Oh, I see." Your eyes flick up to take in his expression, he doesn't look disappointed, just mildly perplexed. With a smile he reaches a hand out to you, "It's alright baby, come here, I'll show you how."

His soft voice makes your heart swell, you now have the confidence to approach him, crawling into his lap and settling on his thighs. He holds you lightly, fingertips barely putting pressure on your hips. Now slightly more assured of the situation with the way that he's looking at you, you become all too aware of how much clothing you're both wearing.

"Undress me, Jakey." You breathe. It's less of a command and more of a plea, one that he quickly fulfils, sliding off your t-shirt to reveal your bare breasts and peeling off your sweatpants and underwear in one go.

"You are going to be the death of me." He murmurs, staring at your body, in complete awe of you.

You help him undress in return and the anxiety slowly creeps back in when you realize that you're seconds away from partaking in a completely new sexual act to you.

"It's alright baby, we'll take it slow and steady. I just wanna make you feel good."

"I trust you." Is all you can muster, knowing you voice won't take you any further than a few words.

Very carefully Jake slides his hands under your thighs and lifts you up, you hold yourself above him so he can take his dick in his hand and line himself up. You and Jake have had sex many times but this feels more intimate than any other night you've shared. Slowly he pulls you down onto him and the small pinch of pain makes your arms shoot around his neck. You pull yourself into the crook of his neck, chest flush with his.

"Are you okay?"

Taking a moment you experimentally roll your hips and a soft sigh tumbles past his lips. Now that you're comfortable you pull away - arms still around his neck - so you can look him in the eyes. "I'm okay."

"Do you want to move now?" He asks it with with the insinuation that he'll assist you and so you nod your head, letting him take control.

Now his fingers dig into you a little harder, moving you back and forth before lifting you up slightly. He creates a rhythm, drawing your hips up and down and up and down. The fire in your stomach blazes, the sensation of him inside you like this so raw and sensual. You fall into a lull of the motions but are snapped back to reality when his hands retreat from your body and you aren't moving anymore.

"You think you can manage that by yourself now?" His eyes are fixed on you intently, taking in your every expression.

"I can try." You place your hands firmly on Jake's shoulders to anchor yourself as you begin to move. Having so much control is new and you're not quite sure what to do with it. You slowly start to move, still testing the waters your every move in incredibly careful and prolonged.

"You're doing so well, feel so good--" Jake groans, tipping his head back as your start to move a little faster, bouncing up and down at a quicker pace.

You're already starting to work up a sweat and so is Jake, your bodies glistening in the dim light of your bedroom. A hushed moan passes his lips and your body acts instinctively swallowing down the noise hungrily as you press your lips to his. Bringing your bodies impossibly close you once again lock your arms around his neck.

Your lips move against Jake's quickly and carelessly, tongues dancing around each other, spit coating your lips, it's a very passionate affair although quite different from the passion being shared between your intertwined bodies.

"God-- You're gonna make me cum, keep going baby--" A shuddering gasp escapes his lips when you lift your hips almost to the point of ridding yourself of him before plunging back down and grinding against him both faster and harder than before, hoping to bring him to his orgasm quicker. "So good for me-- So fucking pretty--" The praise coming out of his mouth is slurred and barely coherent but it still serves to bring your body closer to the edge as well.

Clearly Jake can feel the way you're clenching around him because he presses his fingers to your lips, which you accept gratefully, skating your tongue over the digits before he removes them and works at your clit. You throw your head back in pure ecstasy, the feeling your chasing is like nothing you've ever experienced before.

"I'm close, Jake."

"Cum for me baby, you're doing so well, let go for me." His breathing is labored and by the way his abdomen clenches beneath you, you can tell his holding back his own release in favor of you getting there first.

Now comfortable in the movement, you plant your hands on his shoulders and work against him a little faster, a little harder. You bite your lip and stifle a cry and everything comes together, every movement of your hips perfectly complimenting Jake's fingers.

"You look so pretty fucking me like this." He huffs out and that's enough to tip you over the edge. You press your face into Jake's neck and hold your body tight against his as your orgasm washes over you.

"Jake! Fuck!" Somehow still lost in the pleasure washing over you, you stay slumped over on Jake, eyes squeezed shut. You can feel his hips still rutting against you until he reaches his own peak. The feeling of him filling you up like this is so much more sensual than any other time you've had sex. Once you finally come down you pull away and cup Jake's cheek. "I think we should do that more often."

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