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evilminji · 2 months

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You know all those Cults in Gotham?

Bet at least ONE of them could spring for both a Legit Magic User and a Cloning pod.

Because The Wayne's? Hearts of Gold. Long standing pains in the asses. Probably the only thing standing between this gods forsaken wasteland of a city and Their Dark Lord. For GENERATIONS no less!

It's sooooo obnoxious!

So they want to Curse Um dead. Just a good ol fashioned bloodline curse. Destroy um from within, etc. BUT! To do THAT? You kinda need a blood relative to sacrifice!

And Bruce is... well... rather infamously An Orphan With No Biological Kids (at that point).

So? What do you do? Make one, obviously. You send in some of your own on a Holy Mission. Honeypot that playboy! Get us a kid to sacrifice! Our God will reward you etc! But... FFS! What? Are brunettes not your TYPE or something?! Pretty lady! Throwing herself at you!!

TAKE THE BAIT!

But he DOESN'T. Because he's both really used to that behavior, as The Wayne Heir and a False Playboy, AND because? He's fuckin Batman. He can see through your schemes.

Okay.

Okay!

Plan B!

Get us some DNA. We'll CLONE the sucker. That should be doable, right?

........OH COME ON! How?!

Batman: [REDACTED] / Cultists: 0

Fuck it! This is impossible! How are we supposed too... *eyes drift over to the Wayne Family Private Graveyard* .......Idea? Ideeeeaaaa~! Someone get us a shovel!

So they, cultist bastards that they are? Fuckin rob a grave for some DNA.

OBVIOUSLY though, it can't be one of the more RECENT graves! He probably VISITS those! Watches them! No we gotta be SNEAKY! Get one a bit further back! Mwahahahaha! We're so brilliant! Our God is gonna give us SUCH a Good Grade in follower!

A thing that is both REAL and possible to achieve!

So, while a Weirdly FURIOUS Batman? Is just... VIOLENTLY breaking ALL of their bones? Cultist 17 is furiously digging like his life depends on it. Either somebody snitched or Batman was hunting them down! Either way?

Gotta! Get! That! DNA!!! *digs faster*

Ah HA! Got it!

Fucking SCATTER! Run you fools, RUN!!! *everyone bolts*

And AT LAST! They have it! Wayne DNA! Now? Pop that sucker into the machine and make us a baby! Too sacrifice! *relieved noises* Man, that was hard work you guys. But we DID it!

Except??

Theoretical Babies? And "Real, slowly forming in front of me and becoming a human child" type babies? VERY DIFFERENT psychologically. It's ONE thing to sacrifice a HYPOTHETICAL baby... but when you're the guy running and monitoring the Cloning machine? Watching it slowly form and come together into... into a CHILD?

You start asking questions of yourself. Of God.

Of what, EXACTLY, you are willing to do.

What lines you find yourself unwilling to cross.

And yeah, your life was SHIT before the cult. Yeah, you were alone. Adrift. Without purpose. Angry at the world for all of its ugliness and failings. But... sitting, alone, in a dark room? Nothing but the steady hum of machines and the cool light of that pod? You are left with nothing but time... and your thoughts.

And the baby.

The one... the one YOU made.

Almost... he's almost like a son, in a way. Your son. Floating there, innocent and unknowing. Destined to be born, only to die painfully, for a cause he could not even begin to understand. Because he's too young. Too small. Just... just a baby.

The baby YOU made.

Doubt seeps in like mist. Creeping into the cracks forming in your faith. Surely there's another way, right? Why not save up for a better magician? Or... or hire a hitman? Why involve a child? Surely... surely your God would not WANT this, right? Or if He did! Surely, he would want the boy to be able to CHOOSE, right? A noble sacrifice, for the cause?

The pressure builds. Batman is tearing the city APART looking for your fellow Believers. Leadership is pressuring you to get "It" ready all ready.

He's not an "it".

They are dismissing your questions. Threatening and posturing, as you grapple with your faith. Where? Where is the COMMUNITY that you joined? The camaraderie? Every day, Believers are being torn down. The faith has lost so many!

How can this be WORTH it?

Your faith is slowly, cruelly, strangled in your chest. A death, by ten thousand silences, and ten thousand more cruelties.

Your son is ready.

You do not tell them.

The Clone of Bruce Wayne's great-grandfather is small, but healthy, in your arms. A tiny warm body, with a strong beating little heart. You call the police. Leave your phone, call running, on the desk. No one thinks to stop you, as you calmly walk out the back door.

Why would they doubt?

You are Faithful.

You drive. Pray to a God you have lost faith in, beg forgiveness for what you do now. Your beat up old junker of a car makes decent time, as you leave Gotham. Your son, asleep in a carefully made nest of blankets, on the seat next to you. You drive. You keep driving.

Past towns.

Past cities.

Out of the state.

Stopping only to feed your son and fuel your car. You... you can not bring yourself to care about what will happen to you now. You know they will find you. Know this is the end. But something ancient burns in your chest. A caring you never thought was REAL.

You are afraid.

But you will not let them harm your son.

Finally, a town. Far from Gotham. Quite and cheerful. It calls to you.

Here. It... it has to be here.

You find the hospital. Tears choking you. There is a place to drop of children. You've seen them before. How strange, that now you stand before it and HURT. Your arms not listening to your command. You... you have to do this. You HAVE too.

He is just a baby.

He is your son.

You have to keep him safe. And... and that can not be with you.

You gently put your baby boy into the drop off. Press the buzzer. And then? You make yourself walk away.

Get back in your car, and drive. The gun in your glove box will insure they can never pry from you, what you have done. Where he is. He is safe now. He has to be. You... you did your job. As his father. You made sure he was safe.

You can barely see the road, through your tears.

You take your secrets to the grave.

And Danny? He grows up. Is adopted young and never knows different. Both a Fenton and a Wayne. Knowing only one of these, to be his. But... that Wayne? Was a damn fine man. A pillar of his community and a champion of the people.

Got tossed more then a few blessings, in his life.

They weren't the STRONGEST. But they added up. And more importantly? Were hardly the refined magics of the more powerful. They were cast onto "Him". By blood and bone, more often then not. Which was all well and good!

When there was only ONE of "Him".

Cloning technology did not exsist. So why would you word carefully against it? Danny becomes a VERY lucky boy. Survives many things he should not. In fact, the kindness and hard work of his original? Gifted back in magically powered well wishes? By this, he survives something NO ONE could possibly expect him too.

It saves his life.

His template would be quite pleased, knowing that. That his life of good deeds, saved the life of the child he never got a chance to meet. That it protected his children, from even beyond death.

And in Gotham? At long, long last. The program Bruce made in his helplessness and despair, to search EVERY child until the child made of his bloodline was found? Spits out a match.

A Watchtower engineer.

Daniel J. Fenton.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #that baby is my great grandpa! au #spice up the cloning au #minji's writing

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dsiiress · 2 months

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CLOUDED

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

ft: stoner! suguru geto, stoner! satoru gojo, afab/feminine reader (female body parts mentioned!!)

contains: explicit content, 3k wc, mentions of marijuana, non-curse au, college au, piv sex, nipple play/sucking, double cunnilingus, fingering, spitroasting, pet names (i.e mama, good/pretty girl etc…), reader is under the influence, but is consenting & and fully aware of what is going on!!!

the bedroom was clouded with an airy smoke as getou’s playlist played faintly in the background. suguru inhaled deeply, passing a blunt to gojo as he exhaled a puff of smoke from his mouth. gojo declined, passing the thick blunt to you.

you weren’t usually a smoker, but the pair (mainly satoru) had somehow managed to convince you, claiming it relieved stress easily. knowing you just had a big breakup, they decided to take advantage of this situation to introduce you to the drug.

the first few puffs made an unusual feeling enter your body. it made your skin tingle and your head ache and throb. getou told you this was normal, especially for your first time. but soon after the next 4-5 hits, your body entered a euphoric stage, like you were floating.

suguru’s low, reddened eyes observed you, as the blunt left your plump lips, smoke emitting from your mouth. his lips curved into a smile, his lip ring adorning them. “so, how are you feeling?” he asked.

“like.. like im on top of the wooorld..” you slurred out, a giggly fit soon following.

“i told you this shit relieves stress. betcha forgot all about that bastard…” gojo looked up at you from his spot on the floor.

“satoru…” geto warned. even though it was true, your ex was a good for nothing bastard, the topic was still somewhat sensitive to you.

“it’s alright, sug. and it’s true, he was a complete bastard. can’t believe i dated him..” you held your face in your palm, rubbing it. your ex had cheated on you with one of your so-called ‘friends’ and not only that, it was on your one-year anniversary.

“i mean, it was kiiiinda obvious, y’know? even on your monthly anniversaries, you were the only one contributing. on your birthday, he didn’t even show up to your party. can’t believe you didn’t break up with that asshole sooner…” gojo remarked.

“can we just- stop talking about this? anyways, im staarviing..” you groaned out, stomach aching with hunger.

“ill grab us some snacks. anything in specific you want?.” the darker haired man offered. you and satoru shook your heads in unison, signaling a no. getting up from his sitting position, he made his way down the hall, to the kitchen, leaving you and gojo in the bedroom alone.

the snowy haired male stood up and joined you on the bed, a soft *plop* sound was made as he sat. “m’sorry for bringing him up..” he apologized.

“it’s fine, it’s not your fault ‘toru.” you said as you lazily laid your head on his shoulder, taking another long hit from the blunt. “i know, but it just makes me so upset, the way he treated you like some kind of object. i hated him ever since the day i laid eyes on him.” gojo shrugged, taking the stub from your fingers.

you sat up and gazed at him, surprised. “really? you told me you liked him though, no?”

“that was before he revealed how much of a dick he was.” he scoffed, rolling his aquamarine eyes as he exhaled the smoke from his nostrils.

satorus eyes bored onto you, admiring. had you always been this.. beautiful? it’s not like you weren’t good looking, but now he noticed things he never did before. like, your plump, soft, sultry lips or your big, glassy eyes that were enhanced by your long, fluttery lashes. your smooth voice that spoke like honey, sweet words spilling from your mouth.

he always overlooked those things, but now they stuck out like a sore thumb. he wasn’t sure if it was from the fact he was under the influence and his senses were heightened. but whatever it was, it made you appear absolutely beguiling in his eyes.

“y’know-“ he paused for a brief moment, turning his face towards you, inching closer slowly. “-i could’ve treated you way better. made sure you had everything you wanted. anniversary, birthday, whatever the occasion…”

his parted, peachy pink lips were now inches away from yours, practically salivating for them to collide with his own.

“youre so beautiful, you know that? you deserve a real man, not some jerk. you deserve someone like me..”

“toru, i don’t think we sho-'' you were quick to whisper, but almost immediately cut off by gojos lips molding onto your own, stealing your next words away. the slow, passionate kiss quickly became sloppier, drool and saliva coating each others mouths.

gojo lightly shoved your body onto the mattress beneath you, with him now on top of you. he cupped your face as he groaned quietly, your legs wrapping around his lower end, pulling him closer to you.

he snaked his hand up the shirt you were wearing, softly groping your breasts, making you moan, the pure pleasure he provided you with, intensifying since you were under the influence. satoru pulled away from the kiss as he smirked at you.

“you were saying, mama? we shouldn’t do what?” he grinned teasingly, his scarlet reddened scleras watched you underneath him. “nothing ‘toru, i wasnt saying anythin-“

“i leave for 10 minutes, and you guys havin’ fun without me?” suguru was pouting by the doorway, hands filled with snacks.

“you didn’t miss anything important, we’re just getting started..” gojo clarified as getou dropped the goodies swiftly, sauntering his way to the bed, joining you and satoru. his lips soon occupied yours as satorus did your neck, complimenting it with purply blotches.

“mmph-, haah-“ you cried out as the men tended to you, as if you were some sort of goddess. you were though, in their eyes atleast. the most perfect being the duo had ever laid their eyes unto.

satorus lingering kisses were soon restricted by the shirt you had on, stopping him from going lower. “tsk, pesky thing. let’s get this off, yeah?”

promptly lifting your arms to aid him, he took the shirt off of you, revealing your bare chest and now leaving you in your panties. “so fuckin pretty, he didn’t know how to handle all this in the first place.” gojo protested, soon latching his lips onto one of your nipples. he sucked away as suguru brushed against your neck, twiddling the other nipple in his fingers.

you cried out from the pure, blissful amounts of satisfaction. satorus teeth grazed softly against your nipple, his tongue swirling around in circles. suguru fondled your other breast in his smooth, slender hand, whilst also leaving his own marks on your slightly arched neck.

“f-feels reaally good, fuck-, just like t-thaat..” you stammered, body jerking and back arching at the duos will. gojo removed his mouth from your breast, and pecked kisses from the neck down, until he reached your soiled panties.

“damn, youre so wet, just from the foreplay? don’t worry mama, we’ll take good care of you..” he trailed, leaving you unsure if he was talking to you, or your pussy. you could feel his warm breath along the outside of your panties, his nose just barely brushing against the bud of your clit.

moving your panties to the side, he took in the sight of your pretty, dripping, cunt. just from looking at you, it got him all hot and bothered down there, feeling the crotch of his sweats tighten. he couldn’t wait any longer. lolling his tongue out, he lapped at the erotic juices that leaked from your slit.

getou had now taken gojos previous spot, his own mouth latched onto your breast. his cold, silvery tongue piercing glinted in the low lighting, dribbling across your hardened, sensitive, nipple. he kept your other breast occupied by twisting and pinching at it.

your once quiet whimpers had transformed into full-blown moans that filled the room. one of your hands was buried in sugurus luscious, raven, locks as the other hand was outstretched and submerged deeply into satorus milky, soft, strands.

“fuuck, she tastes…so… good…” satoru said in between licks, his lewd, hungry, slurps proving his point.

“oh? is that so? well then, scoot over satoru, let me have a taste of our pretty girl.” he left your side and moved downwards, towards your aching slit, joining gojo.

the two men in between your legs surely was a sight for sore eyes. the way they both hungrily looked up at you with low, animalistic eyes.

satorus pure, white strands of hair draping over his shining, bright, blue orbs shimmering up at you, while sugurus beaming, dark, hazel ones contrasted completely, his long, inky, tendrils enveloping his face.

gojo returned to his occupation, while getou slid one of his long, slender digits inside of your hole, making your body shiver. a gasp slid past your lips as he curled inside of you. touching that spongy, sensitive spot. he relaxed his finger, then curled it once more, repeating this motion while he watched your face, full of expressions.

“haah- oh!! right t-there,‘guru.. mhmm!!” your desperate pleads only egged the young man on, making him fasten his pace. “has he ever made you feel this good? hm?” he questioned, while slowly easing another finger inside.

“ahhh-!! n-noo..” you replied hastily as his two digits stretched you.

“hm, thought so. like satoru said,” motioning his head towards him, “we'll take good care of you, precious.” suguru joined his mouth alongside satorus, still fingering in and out of your cunt. both of their tongues made your back arch as you squirmed from the overstimulation.

the pace of his fingers quickened, prodding and exploring deep inside of your gummy walls. they curled daintily against that sweet spot of yours, making your body jolt.

“gonna- fuckk… gonna cum!..” you pathetically cried out as you clawed at the sheets beneath. your hips spasmed as you reached your crescendo, harder than ever before. gojos face was smothered with your wetness, as was getos fingers, both covered in your translucent slick.

“youre so pretty when you cum, baby. did he ever make you cum that hard?” satoru purred, his smooth voice ringing throughout your ears.

your chest heaved as you recovered from your previous release, an arm draped over your eyes.

“nuh-uh…” you hiccuped.

“of course not. hmph, a gorgeous girl like you deserves all the pleasure in the world.” satoru huffed. it hurt him to see how much your ex had neglected your needs.

he stood up, fixing his position in between your legs. giving your stomach a light peck, he asked,

“has he been stuffing this cute little pussy properly? treating her right?” he inquired, looking up at your flushed face.

“i doubt it, from the way she took my fingers, squirming and crying. makes me wonder how she’ll take our cocks..” suguru cooed alongside his counterpart.

“you think you can take us, sweetheart? hm, do you want me and satoru to stuff you full?”

nodding briefly, you agreed. the clear, bulging outlines in their pants intimidated you, but you shook it off, lustful and desiring thoughts taking over.

“tsk, tsk, tsk. use your words, otherwise we don’t know what you're talking about. tell us both what you want, sweet thing.” suguru teased with his deep, sugar coated voice.

“please, i want you and ‘toru to stuff me, so deep…” you begged. saying those words out loud made a dark blush creep upon your face, cheeks tingling softly.

“look at that, she even said please! i think it’s time we give our pretty girl what she's been waiting ever so patiently for. whaddya think sug’?”

“i think… it’s time for us to give this poor, poor thing exactly what she’s been missing out on.” the darker haired male amused. “bend over right here for us, would you?” he patted the edge of the bed with his hand.

you fixed your body into the desired position, arching your back slightly along the edge of the mattress. as you did this, satoru kneeled infront of you. he was so close to your face. you could see the vast outline of his member contesting with the fabric of his sweats. he eased his pants down, now making his hard-on silhouette very distinguishable.

as he pulled his boxers down, his cock sprung out eagerly, almost poking you in the eye. you examined his lower half carefully. it was well kept, a small, trimmed patch of white hairs sat above the base. the tip of his dick was a swollen, corally pink. beads of crystalline, semi-transparent precum dribbled down his shaft.

and his length.. oh his length… was beyond belief, being a smidgeon shorter than your forearm.

“you’re staring, y’know?” gojo stifled, his sultry voice snapping you out of your daze. “now, open up for me. lemme feel that pretty mouth of yours..”

opening up, you took him inside your mouth, careful not to graze him with your teeth. you were barely past the tip and he already had you gagging.

“heh, you this feels- feels so good. her mouth is so warm, sugu…o-ohh yeah…” he whined.

“i can tell. now, are you ready for me to fill you up, pretty?” suguru murmured into your ear as he grinded along your ass. a fabric barrier being the only thing that restricted him from fucking you. as you nodded, he grinned while placing a kiss down your neck.

he drew off his pajama pants, revealing his cock. he wasn’t near as big as satoru, but he had him beat in girth. his base was cleanly shaven, not a speck of hair in sight.

he lined himself up with your slit, his bulbous tip pulsing against you. he groaned softly, sliding himself up and down your pool of wetness. he was so desperate to be inside of you. he couldn’t take it anymore.

“ahh- fuck, youre so t-tight..” he sighed out breathlessly, depositing his inches into you. digging your nails into the sheets, you let out a suppressed moan. the thickness of sugurus member made you feel like you were splitting in two.

“just like that..s-such a good girl, taking the both of us.” getou praised. he gradually started to create a rhythm with his thrusts, each one sending chills down your exposed spine. “isnt that right, satoru?”

“y-yeah, doin’ so good mama..mouth feels s’good around me..” his hands were mounted atop your head as he shoved sloppily in your mouth. drool spilled onto the once neat bed sheets, now ruffled. your eyes glasses over each time he hit the back of your throat in an irregular pattern.

“damn, youre making me jealous over here.” getou smirked. he was now fully inside of you, going at a slow (but heavily effective) pace. grabbing ahold of your hips, he quickened his motions, making you rock between him and gojo.

“mmm, mhmm!!” you whined, mouth full of cock. your eyes rolled back, long lashes fluttering delicately. gojo was practically abusing your throat at this point, your gags and slurps making him even more turned on.

geto now had one leg propped on the bed, angling himself inside of you. he repeatedly hit your sweet spot roughly at an expeditious pace, making you squirm beneath him. he cursed at the sight of your ass rippling against his lower waist. it drew him in hypnotically. he drew his hand up and gave your ass a light smack. this sudden action made you yelp, and tighten around him.

an ocean of tears were now streaming down your cheeks, tiny droplets of snot tricked down your nose. your brain was completely blank. even if you tried to muster up a thought, the only thing that came to mind was cock. and not just any, but your two best friends cocks shoved deep inside your holes, filling you up.

as you stared up at satoru, you noticed how sweaty his forehead was. strands of his white hair stuck to it as his cerulean orbs looked down at you, a wink following close behind.

with his hand still entangled in your hair, he threw his head back in pleasure. “keep sucking me like that and m’gonna-hah, cum..” he strained out. the tip of his cock pulsed as ropes of his semen coated the inside of your mouth. gojo huffed as he slid himself out of your mouth, whimpering slightly.

“o-open up, let me see that pretty mouth full of my cum, mama.”

you did as he told, lolling your tongue out. white strings of seed covering your tongue, the sight almost making satoru’s limp dick hard once again. he leaned down grabbing your chin, swiping his tongue along yours slowly. “mmm, do i really taste that good?”

suguru was still ramming recklessly into your hole, feeling his tip kiss your cervix multiple times. breathless sighs flowed carelessly from the way you clamped so tightly around him. he felt like he was in heaven.

the sensation was reciprocated back to you, rippling all throughout your body. you could vaguely sense the warmness of your high creeping in between your thighs. you had arched your back, outstretching your arms on the mattress below.

but you were soon denied of this action as suguru grabbed the both of your arms and held them tightly behind your back. jackhammering himself into you, a loud, strained moan emitted from his lips.

“so tight princess, i might hafta cum inside you. you want that? you want your best friend to give you everything that asshole couldn’t?”

“y-yes please, cum inside of me suguruuuu!!…” you eagerly nodded, pleasing the man behind you. those words alone, coming from your stuttering, sweet mouth had sent him over the edge.

getou sloppily thrusted a few more times as his essence splurted into your cunt. your high came right behind his, as you pulsed and clenched down on his thickness. letting out small, desperate mewls as blotches of white invaded your vision as you came.

suguru pulled out slowly, his base covered in your mixed juices. your hands flopped to your sides as your body limply dropped on the bed, legs moderately jittering.

“you okay?” suguru cooed in your ear. as you nodded, he smiled and let out a small hum.

“good, because i have yet to know what that mouth of yours feels like…”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

a/n- this idea came to me in a dream 😮‍💨 but i hope you all enjoyed this!! maybe ill do a part 2, who knows? 🤷🏽‍♀️🌝 anyways bye bye loviesss!

xo, dsiires

tag-list: @busyreader17

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melodramaticmeans · 2 months

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You absolutely hated Scaramouche.

Detested him, even.

I mean, who wouldn't hate someone who killed them?

This jerk sucked your blood, causing you to die of blood loss, which took hours. Or, at least, it felt like hours to you.

So now, this is where you spend your afterlife. Haunting this emo ass gothic era castle thing. Knocking over shelves, scaring away other people that might fall into Scaramouche's trap, just being annoying in general.

How long had it been like this, you mused. Fifty, sixty years, perhaps.

You didn't mind. You'd stay here for a millennia if it meant being a minor inconvenience to everything Scaramouche did. Plus, you'd gotten used to the routine.

When the sun rises, go screech in the upper west hall to disturb the vampire bastard, then, when the sun is at its highest, go and wander around the garden mournfully.

When the sun sets and the bastard awakens, scare away any other human loitering around the area. Finally, when the bastard has his dinner (usually consisting of a medium rare steak and a red liquid you suspected was blood), knock over the tableware.

So now you were floating around the table, waiting for Scaramouche to arrive and eat his dinner.

The door to the dining room creaked open, revealing a slender man with indigo hair, bold red eyeliner, and skin so pale and smooth you were convinced it was glass at first.

He sat down at the table, reaching for a fork and knife to eat his steak.

Bide your time...

He reached for a glass, to pour himself a drink, you guessed.

Well you weren't going to let him have that.

You made the glass float with your super-awesome ghost powers, placing it on the far end of the table.

All you got was a simple 'hm' out of it, which infuriated you. He then simply reached for another glass, which just pissed you off more. He should be angry! He should be reactive! Why isn't he doing anything?

For some weird reason, he reacted as if this were a normal occurrence. Every. Time. You. Did. It. All he'd do was grab another glass, then pour a drink into both the cups, only drinking one, leaving the other untouched.

It pissed you off.

This happened whenever you tried to take away his plate, too.

Never a 'why are my plates floating' or 'who took my wine' and never even a 'sorry for killing you'.

But one thing you took satisfaction in, was the fact that he could never remove you from the castle. I mean, what was he going to do about it? Call an exorcist? Ha.

Scaramouche shifted in his seat, catching your attention. Maybe I should try stealing his cape.

You were shocked out of that idea when he started speaking to nothingness.

"I know you're there." He said casually, taking a bite out of his steak. "So there's no use in moving the tableware any longer."

...

What.

The vampire smirked. "It's pathetic, honestly. Seeing you try to grab my attention by doing these pointless things."

PATHETIC? Who was he calling pathetic?

"Screeching whenever the sun rises, scaring away any passerbys, taking things from the table... if I didn't know better, I'd say that you're obsessed with me."

Well, you weren't just going to stay there and listen to this utter bullshit.

"Obsessed with you?" You spoke. Man, it felt weird to use your voice after six decades. Even weirder when you couldn't feel your voice box vibrating.

"No one in their right mind would be obsessed with you. The only reason I do the things I do is to inconvenience you."

Scaramouche still had that stupidly annoying smirk on his face. "Well, you've spent decades haunting me, yet you have made no inconvenience in my life whatsoever. In fact, I'd say that your antics are particularly entertaining." He said, intertwining his fingers together.

"After five hundred years of monotony, anyone would get bored, don't you think?"

Gods, you absolutely hated Scaramouche.

"Well, my 'antics' aren't meant to be entertaining, they're meant to be annoying and inconveniencing, kind of how I feel about you." You drawl.

And get this, instead of getting angry, Scaramouche laughed.

"Ha, as if I could feel annoyance towards you." He chuckled. "Haven't you seen the signs? I've welcomed you as a guest. I've offered you food. I've offered you a place to sleep, though I am not sure if you use it. And, I've hosted you in my house for over a year. Are you aware what procedures these are for?"

"Why, of course. They're the courtship rituals taken by the people of Inazu...ma." Your voice died down in your throat as you finished your sentence.

"And since you have stayed here for over a year," the vampire continues, grinning from ear-to-ear, "it means that we are now betrothed."

#scaramouche #scara #scaramouche genshin impact #scara genshin #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #scara x you #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin impact x you

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artiststarme · 26 days

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Eddie wished he hadn’t survived that vicious bat attack. He was supposed to die a hero, the martyr the group remembered and told stories about, the bard that was a fighter all along. Maybe he was in their eyes.

But to himself, he was just the loser kid that the universe kept kicking down. He had intended to lay his life down for Dustin to escape, which he did, kinda. But Dustin was too inexperienced to know how to find a pulse, especially a weak and sporadic one caused by a mixture of blood loss and adrenaline. Steve dragged Dustin through the gate and the alternate dimension erupted into flames around them.

And Eddie was still there.

He woke up on the cold concrete with fallen bats surrounding him and sulfuric ash floating into his lungs. At first he couldn’t move. Why did he have to be alive and in so much pain?

His battle jacket was shredded, as was his skin, his neck was slashed, his pick necklace was missing, and the motherfucking bats had chewed off his left nipple like kinky bastards from hell. He didn’t want to fight. He wanted to lie right back down and die of blood loss like he’d intended to.

But as he thought of his Uncle Wayne, he realized he couldn’t. That poor guy had put everything on the line for him again and again just to be disappointed each time. Eddie couldn’t disappear in an unknown world without making Wayne proud at least once. And after his… eventful Spring Break, there were others he’d come to love as well. Dustin. The little kid that was so good at everything but sorely lacking in the skill of checking for pulses? Eddie had seen his character traits in Hellfire Club, the kid would never forgive himself for not saving Eddie. He had to be okay for him, to save him from his own guilt if nothing else.

And Steve. Eddie had flirted with him and he hadn’t punched him in the face. That was something worth exploring! There was no way in fuck that Eddie was going to die a virgin after finally finding another boy who might be interested. Shit, he’d never even had a first kiss. He thought Steve might’ve been going in for a kiss before they all split up and he had to find out before succumbing to the bites.

So, despite his passive suicidality that had existed since birth and the threats pelting him from the universe, Eddie pulled himself up. He grabbed his spear, the guitar at what remained of his trailer, and set to looking for a way out.

He was going to see his uncle again, he was going to hug Dustin, and he was going to kiss Steve Harrington if it killed him. Because at this point? He had nothing to lose.

#stranger things #steddie #ish #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #uncle wayne

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sereneabyyss · 4 months

Text

Ouija Board At Bat Gas (Dead On Main)

Bat Gas was an unfortunate little, dingy, abandoned gas station situated just outside of Crime Alley in an area where it couldn't be said to be part of The Alley, but was close enough that anyone not from there would never dare to fill up their tanks there in fear of getting mugged and none of the residents of Crime Alley ever bothered filling their tanks, if the car they were using ran out, most just simply jumped at the opportunity to steal another. Safe to say, the gas station hadn't lasted long in the business world.

Thus, it sat there, vines overgrowing the concrete flooring and winding up the empty fuel pumps. Like all abandoned things in Gotham, stories of ghosts haunting and wails of grief filled any conversation about Bat Gas. Many of the street kids liked to make dares out of venturing into the den and going so far as to touch one of the pumps. Risks of rubber bound vipers striking out, possessed by a vengeful spirit, only seemed to fill them with determination to complete the dares of their friends.

Perhaps those stories were what brought Jason Todd out at bat gas on December 25th, a Ouija Board in hand. The original plans to spend the holidays at the Wayne Manor had been scrapped with the raging of pits and glow of green eyes leaving every other member of his family walking on tip toes around him. Normally that would mean ditching Jason Todd for the comfort of Red Hood, except there were no issues in Crime Alley for Hood to take care of. Every bastard seemed to have scampered into hiding in time for the New Year. So, he was left as he was, a lost Jason Todd just looking for some way to ignore the mess of his life on Christmas Day.

So. He was going to use a Ouija Board to see if Bat Gas was actually haunted. What could he lose? His dignity if anyone stumbled upon him? He forsook that years ago.

Walking onto the cracked concrete, it was like an icy wave of contentment washed over him. Any lingering Pit Rage simmered beneath the surface before mellowing out completely. The knots in his chest unwrapped themselves and all that seemed left within him was a feeling of light-weightiness. Like the feeling when he was grappling between buildings and he was falling falling falling until the hook's line tightened and he was flying back up. He wasn't sure he had felt this way since the day he awoke half alive half monster.

(There was definitely something dead here. It was just so familiar. He would never be able to explain the feeling, but it was as if he was bathing in less angry Lazarus Pits.)

Danny perked up as the presence of a halfa (liminal? halfa? he couldn't tell exactly, something seemed off with both descriptions, but halfa was definitely the closest between them) entered the neat little gas station he had decided to make his temporary haunt.

He had decided to haunt the abandoned Bat Gas he had heard others talking about during Christmas, not wanting to deal with questions on why he didn't celebrate. (Seriously, after all the arguments every year and that one time with the possessed candy cane, he had given up any sort of Christmas Spirit he may have had before.) After visiting Mars last year on Christmas Day, he family had given up all hope of trying to get in contact with him for the entire day. So, he knew he would be free to haunt the cool looking gas station with no one hunting him down and trying to stick him in front of a tree with too many blinking lights and gaudy paper wrapping unnecessary trinkets he'll lose between his ribs after like three days.

But! There was a halfa entering his new haunt! And they were maybe ill! He had to see what that was about!

Peeking over the roof he was situated on, he watched as someone continued walking, something weird and rectangular looking in their arms. Tilting his head to the side, he slowly floated down, staying invisible as he took a peak at the stranger.

His eyes narrowed in on the rectangle object in the halfas arms. They placed it on the concrete, giving Danny room to finally look and- ohmygodwasthataouijaboard?! HE WAS GETTING OUIJA BOARDED! HE WAS SO GOING TO SHOVE THIS IN SKULKER'S FACE THE NEXT TIME THEY FOUGHT! THIS WAS EONS WORTH OF BRAGGING RIGHTS! HE WAS GETTING OUIJA BOARDED!

Silently clearing his throat, he sat in front of the halfa, allowing him to get a good look and... fuck, he was hot. Like, thighs that could absolutely crush a watermelon hot. Hair wind swept back with a little white etched into the front hot. A boyish, smugish, hottish face that just screamed danger hot. Hot enough this man could probably melt his ghost ice hot. Did Danny mention he was hot?

Maybe if his Christmases were always spent getting Ouija boarded by incredibly hot maybe halfas he'd have more Christmas Spirit. Santa, he knows you're real, send him this halfa again next Christmas and maybe he'll actually respect you.

The new halfa furrowed his eyebrows as he concentrated setting up the Ouija board properly and Danny almost fainted from how hot he was. Patting his cheeks sharply, he concentrated on the fact that he was getting to do his first Ouija Board! He had to look cool! He had to be smooth! This halfa was hot and Danny couldn't blow it!

"Oh Ghost who haunts this gas station, can you hear my voice?" The halfa called out and Danny had to hold himself together from freaking out over the man's voice. It was just perfect. It wasn't too harsh nor did it have the silken smooth feeling most liars had. It was gruff but in an experienced shit way. Oh my Ancients he could absolutely die once more and be the happiest ghost!

He giddily grabbed the little wood whatever-it-was-called in the halfas hand and slid it towards the YES option.

Jason blinked in shock as the planchette in his hand began moving without him forcing it. He had known something not quite alive was here in the gas station, but he hadn't expected it to actually be able to communicate. "I'm Jason, do you have a name?" Slowly, it began moving once more, spelling out P-H-A-N-T-O-M. Which, he wasn't necessarily expecting such a cheesy name, but it could have been worse... probably. "Nice to meet you Phantom. Why are you haunting Bat Gas? I don't recall there being any deaths here."

I-M B-O-R-E-D.

Yeah that was actually a fair enough reason in his books.

"Is there a reason you haven't passed on? Is something tethering you here?"

A-V-O-I-D-I-N-G P-A-P-E-R-W-O-R-K

Shit? There was paperwork in the afterlife? Maybe that was why he decided to come crawling back after getting dumped in the pits. Unfortunate that being a crime lord actually had more paperwork than being a Robin ever did.

Danny was vibrating so fast it looked like that time he ate lithium batteries (it was for science!). The halfa was still talking to him! He was keeping up an interesting conversation! Ouija boarding was so much fun!

"Can you turn visible? Or is that just something movies make up?" He wanted to see Danny! He was interested in what Danny looked like! Dropping his invisibility, Jason visibly startled taking in the sudden appearance before him.

"Hello! I'm Phantom!"

#dc x dp #dpxdc #danny phantom #jason todd #dead on main #danny is an absolute disaster #He's trying so hard to look good for the cute halfa #Jason was not expecting the Ouija Board to work actually #will I write more? who knows I sure don't

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impishjesters · 6 months

Note

I have this idea floating around in my brain for a while about a reader who likes to draw and because they have a crush on Jax they draw him. Jax eventually steals their notebook and probably teases them about it lol.

Jax x Crushing!Reader

warning(s): innuendos, bullying/teasing, Jax note(s): Look it's me and Jax, there's gonna be innuendos or some spicy wording and bullying. It's like a packaged deal or something. A/N: If you see me mixing Angel Dust's speech into Jax, no you didn't. If you didn't notice, I don't know how to tease and not be an asshole, so pretty on the brand I guess.

Caine had given you a sketchbook upon request, it was a little different than an actual sketchbook but it did the job regardless. Ever since your arrival, your fingers have been itching to draw, there were so many new sights and so much new inspiration.

There were so many things, so why did it seem like the doodles of Jax ended up on almost every page?

Easy, you had a crush on the apathetic, mischievous jerk named Jax.

Why? Well, now that’s the million-dollar question. He’s not inherently awful, no, that’s a lie, he’s an asshole. You don’t really have a good read on him yet but he’s funny! That’s gotta be redeemable, right? However, his jokes are usually backhanded and often involve being mean at the expense of others.

Okay so he’s a walking red flag but there’s something about him that has you crushing on the purple bastard.

Looking down at the sketchbook on your lap shows another two pages filled with sketches of random things, though most of the page is filled with Jax. You had taken to sketching things back in the real world to remind yourself of home, but eventually, those sketches would involve Jax doing mundane things.

Thing’s like sitting at a table eating real food, though you took creative measures when drawing an open mouth on him, it still looked off but it was serene and domestic. Then there’s the little sketch at the bottom of the page of Jax leaning against a window and staring outside. You’d manage to nab the pose and angle when he was leaning against one of the many random geometrical-shaped things in the main room and later added in a window.

It was embarrassing that almost more than half of the pages in the book involved Jax to some degree. Some pages weren’t even subtle, the whole page taking up a detailed portrait version of the male. Sometimes you even got creative and put him in different clothing.

Thumbing through the pages you saw there weren’t that many empty pages left. You’d need to ask Caine for another one and figure out what to do with this one. It couldn’t be left out in the open, you knew Jax had keys to everyone’s room and wouldn’t put it past him to go snooping. He’d already questioned you about the sketchbook before.

You’d been so focused on the sketchbook that you hadn’t noticed the man of the hour walking up. Jax noticed your intense focus and peeked over to see the infamous sketchbook on your lap, and with practiced ease managed to yoink it right off your lap.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? You finally showing me what you keep your nose buried into?”

A yelp left you, stumbling to get on your feet you rushed to him and began swatting at the book and of course, he’d keep raising it just out of reach. “You took it! I didn’t say you could look at that!”

“Nah, pretty sure you said I could look at it.” He continued to lower and raise the book as you jumped to grab it. Sure he was curious before, but with a reaction like that? How could he not be even more curious? What kind of seedy shit were you drawing? Or perhaps some spicy nonfamily-friendly content?

Jax ignored your frantic words and opened the book to a random page, he was going to tease you about whatever dumb stuff you drew since you always had your nose in it but all he saw were sketches of himself.

A normal person might get embarrassed and hand the book back, but he’s not a normal person. It’s a little freaky, he won’t lie. A glance downwards shows him you’ve gone silent in front of him, simply staring down while he invades the privacy that was your sketchbook.

Your face is red and you look like you’re going to cry any second.

He’s a jerk, he was going to fuck with you, and he still is, but for the moment he’s taking in all the creative little pieces involving his face. Ya know, he never really thought much about how he’d look in other clothes. Gotta say he looks pretty snazzy in something that isn’t these shitty overalls.

“You know if I didn’t know any better,” his fingers still flip through the pages as he steps closer, circling you. “I’d say you like me.”

“I don’t.”

The reply is rushed and he rolls his eyes at the blatant lie, he’ll humor you this time. “Oh yeah? Does that mean you’ve got sketchbooks for everyone else too? Cause I’m pretty sure this is the only one I’ve seen you with.” He taps a doodle on the cover that gives away it’s the same notebook he always sees you with.

Tears trickled down your cheeks, you knew he was a jerk but this felt like too much. You just wanted your sketchbook back and to run away to your room, maybe pin something in front of the door that would render even the key useless.

His eyes roll the second he sees a tear, he’s not really seeing the problem here. You’ve got a book full of creepy—okay not completely creepy, he’s a good model so good on you for seeing that—sketches of him and he’s truthfully honored. It’s clear that you didn’t do this with everyone, so he’s honored to be your little model. Besides, it’s not like you actually have a crush on him, right?

Minutes tick by of him simply eyeing you, you’re still crying and it’s starting to get a little ugly and snotty, ugh. But you aren’t trying to further deny his little comment about you liking him. He’ll have to have a little talk about that later, what you could possibly see in him because he knows that you aren’t a sadist—oh, are you a masochist? That’d explain a lot.

Jax sighs and closes the book but doesn’t hand it over, simply putting the free hand on his hip. “You know if you wanted to see my face all you gotta do is ask. I’ll gladly show you this handsome face any day toots.”

Of all the things you thought he’d say, that wasn’t it. “H-huh..?” You embarrassingly wipe away the tears and snot before looking up at him.

“You heard me. Ya know I love this face too, very handsome. Maybe we can get Caine to put up some artwork in the tent of yours truly.” Jax wouldn’t consider himself vain, but you did have a way of making him look more, dare he say, attractive.

“I-I don’t… I don’t understand…” Was he still making fun of you?

He rolls his eyes before playfully hitting your head with the book. “Jeez, and here I thought you were smart.” Jax leaned over like he was speaking to a child and pushed the book to your chest. “I’m saying, the next time you wanna draw me I’ll give you a front-row seat. Maybe even take it to the bedroom so we won’t be disturbed.”

You push the book into his face to cover up that growing smirk and blush furiously. “Wh-what?! N-no I-I don’t…!” It’s hard to tell if he’s being serious or not in his offer to model for you, especially with the bedroom comment.

“C’mon, clearly you got taste. I mean that book is filled with sketches of me. I’ll commend you on your immaculate taste.” Jax taps the book before playfully bopping your nose. “At least let me give you the pleasure of seeing me close up. I’ve never been a model before so you might have to get a little hands-on to get me the way you want me.”

As the innuendos continue your face feels like it’s getting impossibly red and warm. Somehow this is worse than him telling you a sketchbook full of his face is creepy, in fact, you’d almost prefer it because your poor little heart can’t take anymore. You let out a yell and it stops his tangent but that stupid smirk of his never disappears.

“Offer still stands. You know where to find me.” Jax turns away but not before throwing a little wink over his shoulder. He still plans on pestering you about what you see in him, but for now, he’ll cut you some slack. You’re about as red as Ragatha’s hair and as much as he loves to see it, he didn’t plan to get this sidetracked when he saw you on your own.

He’s got a sucker to prank.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #jax #jax x reader #tadc jax

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adragonprinceswhore · 3 months

Text

Colour My Mind, Bring Me Back

Chapter I: Floating I Series Masterlist Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!wife

Summary: Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen returns to King’s Landing victorious after besting his uncle during The Battle Above the Gods Eye, securing his withering brother's claim to the Iron Throne. Upon his arrival, he learns that his wife was a casualty of a Black ambush, suffering a severe blow to her skull.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns (3rd person), angst, canon divergence (Aemond survives), war trauma, depictions of violence, head injury, amnesia, ableism, medieval medicinal practices, longing, yearning, eventual smut, discussions of miscarriage

Word Count: 1800

It is the thunder in her head that wakes her, a sensation resembling a storm trapped in her mind, shooting lightning bolts through her skull.

She cannot feel much besides the pain travelling from her head down through her entire being. It leaves her disoriented, and the deafening ringing in her ears makes her feel like she’s spinning.

She tries to open her eyes, but only darkness greets her.

She wonders if she’s ever been able to see.

Is this normality?

The thoughts beginning to form in her head are pushed aside by the horrendous throbbing. The pain pulsates vigorously, and as spots of light start to appear before her eyes, she can make out a lanky figure towering over her.

“Princess?”, the figure calls, a cool hand coming up to touch the scorching skin on her forehead. She tries to speak, to grunt, to give any indication that she is conscious, but her mouth does not obey her as it stays shut.

“I think she’s coming to again”, the voice mutters, removing the cold touch that had comforted her. She wants to cry. To beg whoever was tending her to keep their hand on her to soothe her burning forehead.

Spirit defeated, she closes her eyes again.

She cannot make out more than obscure shapes and shades anyway. Soon, the horrible ache in her head lulls her back to sleep.

She feels like she’s floating in water, body drifting between dreamland and the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

A voice reaches her ears, panicked yet quiet as a whisper, “I couldn’t face the Prince if we had to inform him that his wife perished”.

“He would surely have our heads”, another murmurs, “though, if the rumours are true, he’s found solace in the witch bastard ruling Harrenhal’s embrace. His wrath may be fierce, but short-lived”.

Gently rocking out of the ebbs of slumber, the only feeling she’s able to register is thirst.

A low whine rumbles in her throat, alerting the pair inspecting her sleeping form that she’s rousing.

“She seems to be waking. Place the wet cloth in her mouth, Arsa”

She’s grateful for the cool, wet piece of fabric forced into her mouth, welcoming it greedily. Her frail state renders her muscles almost idle as her mouth weakly tries to suck on the cloth.

Still, the few drops that fall on her tongue revive her.

“Lady Lannister, open your eyes if you can hear me”, one of the voices commands, as if her body obeys her.

She fights against the heaviness of her eyelids, channelling all the strength she can muster.

Her efforts are sparsely rewarded as her eyes flutter open slightly. Two silhouettes linger beside where she lies, clad in dark colours.

Or perhaps it’s the room that’s submerged in darkness?

Nothing around her provides her with any clue of where she is. Mayhaps this is her home? Or the quarters where they keep the weak and sickly?

“Is she aphasic?”, one of the voices questions. The smack of a palm striking a cheek follows.

“Watch your tongue, or the Prince Regent will take it!”

The Prince Regent?

Though her vigour slowly returns with every hour that passes, her mind does not.

Her two attendants, a maester with tufts of grey hair scattered across his balding skull by the name of Alfador, and a tall woman with hollow cheeks named Arsa, ceaselessly try to engage her in discussions she cannot understand.

“You were hurt when the Blacks invaded the city to place their whore Queen on the throne”, Maester Alfador explains, spitting the words out like they were laced with poison.

“We were sentenced to tend to you, Princess. In the hopes that you’d wake”, he continues, “so that you could be used as leverage to bring your husband back”

“My husband?”, she questions, unable to gather even a flicker of a memory with a husband in it. She’s started to piece some things together, recognising the knitted quilt thrown over the foot of her bed from her childhood and the book placed on the table next to her from her lessons with Septa… Tya? Tysha? Tyshara? Recollecting her own life felt like trying to remember a dream she had weeks ago. Only foggy sceneries and dissonant, half-developed thoughts.

“Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen”, Maester Alfador informs. “He chose to stay in Harrenhal and burn the Riverlands in lieu of extricating his lady wife-”

“Maester!”, Arsa shrieks, patting him harshly on the shoulder, “if such a comment reaches his ears-”

“He’ll have my tongue, yes, I am aware”, the greying man sighs. There isn’t much reflecting in his droopy, brown eyes; no mirth or rage that might’ve prompted his remark. Only weariness.

“He’s expected to arrive shortly”, Arsa states, taking command of the conversation, “Vhagar has been spotted nearby. Word of Prince Aemond slaying his uncle reached us just as the commonfolk stormed the Dragonpit”

Vhagar? The name tickles her memory but still she’s unsure. A battle horse? Or a direwolf?

Her husband slayed his own uncle? Perhaps he was an ally to the ‘whore Queen’?

The width of her eyes must have alarmed the pair beside her. “Do not fret, sweetling. The war is at its end”, Arsa reassures with a tight smile, “the people have called for the rightful heir to seize the throne. Besides, your Lord Husband’s beast’s impending arrival will surely show the smallfolk who the Seven favour”

Bedridden, she cannot greet her husband as he arrives victorious from the Riverlands. But she can hear the calls from outside, the shouts and cheers as a loud roar shakes the walls of the keep.

His beast is a dragon.

She should have puzzled that together quicker, he is a Targaryen prince after all. Yet, the realisation that her husband rides one of the few remaining dragons, paired with the fact that he did not come to her rescue during the months which she was captured, surviving only due to Maester Alfador and Arsa’s tedious upkeep of her near lifeless body, causes a stone-like knot to settle in her belly.

Surely he does not care for me?

She can only assume that their union was a political one, doubtlessly arranged by their fathers to assure Lannister gold for the Targaryens, and court influence for the Lord of Casterly Rock.

Once Arsa had left, Maester Alfador told her more about her husband.

About how he is a great warrior, who rides the largest dragon in the world.

About how he was responsible for instigating the war by slaying his young nephew of only four and ten.

About how he ordered the decapitation of every one of Ser Simon Strong’s kin, except for the witch bastard whose magic abilities he utilised to win the war.

“Well-”, Maester Alfador corrects himself, “we cannot be sure of her sorcery. But your husband is said to have invited the bastard to his strategic council”

A shiver creeps down her spine as she recalls their conversation.

A kinslayer? With a frightful temper?

Her head’s pounding again. Bringing the cool, wet cloth to her forehead, she reclines further down her bed, closing her eyes whilst inhaling deeply.

Best not to worry. Best not to think.

This time, it’s an acrid, smoky smell that stirs her from unconsciousness. It causes the insides of her nostrils to sting and her eyes to water before she’s even opened them.

“She mostly sleeps, your grace”, Maester Alfador’s voice booms through the room, “yesterday was the first time we could converse with her, she-”

“Why isn’t Grand Maester Orwyle here?”, a stoic, low voice interrupts him.

The confident tint to the maester’s voice seems to vanish as it shrinks in volume, “He’s tending to the King, your grace”

A disengaged hum travels from beside her bed, and she opens her eyes to inspect its source.

Before her stands a man, a head taller than the maester next to him, with long, silver hair cascading down his broad shoulders. His face is harshly angular, intense lilac gaze demanding as much attention as his sharp nose and prominent jawline.

He wears an eyepatch, a frayed scrap of brown leather covering his eye, but not the scar peeking out from its sides.

He catches her disoriented stare and kneels by the bed, causing more tears to well up in her eyes as the insufferable stench oozing from him intensifies.

Bringing one soot-darkened hand up to her face, the prince throws Maester Alfador a sour look, prompting the elderly man to dart towards the decanter of wine at the other end of the room.

She fleetingly ponders what the prince would have done to her if they did not have an audience. The uncertainty of his intentions causes her stomach to turn.

Prince Aemond’s gaze changes as he once again inspects her. In a low voice, barely above a whisper, he speaks to her.

If she hadn’t heard him speak the common tongue with Maester Alfador meer moments ago, she’d wonder if he knew it at all. The words leaving his lips are utterly incomprehensible to her.

Noticing her bewildered state, he grows silent.

“Forgive me, Lord Husband”, her frail voice speaks up after some time of nothing but quietness, the Prince’s expectant eyes unbearable to withstand. She vainly wishes she could offer him more; a cordial sentence expected of a noble lady, or a coherent response to his arcane utterances, but the words die on her tongue.

All she can focus on is the stench radiating from her husband burning a hole inside her nose, etching its way into her nostrils permanently.

It makes her queasy.

Her head’s pounding again. She tries to offer him a smile, but she’s sure it barely registers on her face before her eyes close again and she sinks back into the comforts of her bed and her unconscious tranquillity.

Before the waves of slumber ebb her away, she hears the hushed voice of Maester Alfador from the other side of her chambers.

“The Princess seems to have suffered a severe injury to her head, possibly from a harsh blow to her skull”, the maester sounds much more nervous than she’d think him capable of, “She is disoriented still. In my many years in your family’s service, I’ve hardly ever seen a case like this”

There is a moment of tense silence, indicating that he still has not been dismissed. The Prince is waiting for him to speak further.

The greying man takes a deep, shaky breath.

“About a week after she fell ill, the Princess started bleeding unexpectedly. We tried to inform the Dowager Queen of her condition-, the-, the babe wouldn’t have survived even if we’d-”

A loud slam quiets Maester Alfadors ramblings, and drags Lady Lannister into slumber.

A/N: Thank you for reading babes! This is just a little chapter to set the scene, and I'm sure you have a bunch of questions! So does Lady Lannister 🤭 Everything will be revealed as the story goes on, you know me and that I love a good mystery 👽

Series taglist: @heavenly1927 @snh96 @a-ta-ra-xi-a @aemondsbabygirl

Everything taglist: @humanpurposes @theoneeyedprince @valeskafics

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monakisu · 3 months

Note

I want you to know that I came across a random post of your Death Note art, went "Awww, oh my gosh, with the way this person draws Light I think Akechi would look fantastic in the same style!", clicked onto your profile, and then saw your newest artwork was Akechi. I'm still kind of cackling over it and thought maybe you'd find it funny too. Your art is SO cute, I'm very happy I found it <333

HAHA THAT’S AMAZING (<< was an akechi artist wayyyy before i fell head over heels for light)

but rlly… theyre so similar:

- brunet

- asshole

- pretty boy

- mass murderer

- black-haired homoerotic rival

at the end of the day, the key difference is one is a top and the other is a bottom.

ok but seriously, they’re vastly different characters on a fundamental level:

- light was handed everything him on a silver platter: family, friends, looks, intellect, a comfortable life… as a bastard child of a sex worker and now an orphan, goro had to fight his way to his current position and will always harbor a terrible sense of inferiority (light is completely confident in his absolute superiority, Always (that’s why the challenge of L sent him off the deep end of obsession lol))

- light genuinely sees himself as a hero, while goro would like to feel the same but is nonetheless depressingly aware of his villain’s journey (his undesirable position as the detective vs the underdog phantom thieves, his string of assassinations, his ultimate dirty bloody goal, etc.).

- light’s motive is about the world’s salvation, cleansing, the birth of his ideal reality (very messianic of him with the slightest loving tinge of mary cradling her lamb hahaha) while goro is laser-focused on ruining this one asshole’s life in particular, vengeance and revenge at once! one’s focused on rebirth, and the other gunning straight for death! they both use murder to get what they want but light probably floats around thinking himself so clean and divine as mother of the world (ignorance is bliss) while goro is constantly desperately trying to cover up his suspiciously red hands with his gloves hehehe… they’re both constantly striving for perfection, just with varying levels of self-awareness!!

- goro is a canonical loner; light has a horde of friends; this is probably due to a difference in public persona! goro is an untouchable idea of what he thinks a human should be and is completely out of the loop when it comes to normal social interactions (believes opening with hegel will instantly endear himself to the average person (luckily he inflicted that upon akira who is decidedly not average in the slightest)), light is implied to be more down-to-earth and even slightly goofy (he’s gaming decorum like an advanced speedrunner)! it’s probably good how distant goro is, because getting any closer to him will allow you to see how off-putting and uncanny he is, sorta like an AI-generated image—seams in the wrong places and far too much teeth LOL. meanwhile light has this whole shebang so thoroughly figured out that he’s BORED with it all! he’d like to move on to the next game (with L), thank you!! light definitely still exudes uncanny creepiness (it’s his natural state of being) especially when he zones out or starts hysterically cackling out of nowhere at his own thoughts, but he’s a hundred times better at masking compared to goro due to a better upbringing. goro is starved for the adoring friends he sees akira easily picking up one after another; light couldn’t give less of a shit because he’s always had those trivial luxuries! he’d much rather prefer an adoring WORLD!!

- then there’s the difference in how they die… one started out surrounded with company but ultimately died alone, while it’s the opposite for the other (if you count the de-realization of maruki’s reality as goro’s “death” (which i don’t)).

- in conclusion, light and goro are like funhouse mirror reflections of each other!!! one is a pampered lapdog getting a taste of rabies and letting loose, while the other is a starving wolf trying to domesticate itself for treats and headpats!! and i <3 them both!!!!!

anyways i may be wrong about light because im going purely off of fics, tumblr shitposts, and my own imagination :] feel free to school me in a way that won’t destroy my delusions!

#美迪 archive #💡princess posting⋆˚✿˖°#mailbox 💌#light yagami #death note #goro akechi #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #art #artists on tumblr #digital art #doodle #rkgk #画画 #涂鸦

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utterlyotterlyx · 18 days

Note

Cassian and writing prompt #21, “Stay”

I’m desperate for more Cassian x Reader fics!! Thank you :)

Arsonist's Lullaby

Cassian x Fem!Reader

Summary - Cassian thinks he knows best when he pushes you away, to protect you, but nothing prepared him for a threat on your life and no one can stop him from reaching you.

Warnings - angst, smut smut smut, fluffffffff, swearing, mentions of death

Word Count - 4.9k

Sunlight speckled over your skin, its warm embrace curling around like Cassian once did, glittering its unwavering love across your paled surface, willing it back to life.

It wasn't out of the ordinary for you and Cassian to fight, but something about that fight felt different. More final in a way.

Cassian was always worrying over you, his mate, and what harm his title could potentially inflict upon you. He had been pushing you away, had been spending more time away from you; you knew why, you knew he was scared of being the reason anything happened to you but that didn't mean that he had to shut you out.

Your mate had done everything to prepare you for any potential attack, any risk to your life, you were a skilled fighter thanks to Cassian, even Azriel broke into a sweat sparring against you and Cassian smirked with pride at the image.

Weakness was not a part of your vocabulary, he knew that, but he still treated you as a fragile swirl of winter warmth and you weren't appreciating it.

Confronting Cassian had ensued an argument that would shatter any unmated couple, you had both hurled abusive words to one another, you had called him spineless and unwilling to fathom your ability to be able to care for yourself like you had during the war against Hybern when you had used your rare gift of Solakenisis to hurtle spheres of radiating flame across the battlefield. In return, Cassian had called you weak and pathetic, he had called you reckless and immature, and landed his final blow of calling you jealous of the other women in your circle for having the freedom and strength that you would never be able to wield.

Such an argument left you both panting, with raw throats and wet cheeks, with snarls of hatred sculpted to your usually attached lips.

Cassian had left you then, had left you alone in your shared home with a bag in his hand without a word of when he would return to you. It felt final. It felt damning.

So you decided to leave yourself, but instead of leaving to escape the too-large-for-yourself home to the sanctuary of the residence of your family, you chose to leave the city altogether and chose to not tell a soul, not even Rhys as he tapped on the walls of your iron clad mind once he had felt your essence float through his wards.

Sunlight continued to kiss your skin as you lay in the familiar comfort of your Day Court bed, in the room Helion had promised to always keep for you. Helion was your older brother, well half-brother, but he wouldn't let anyone mutter a word about your bastard heritage, your shared father had been quite the rake in his prime, and such actions birthed you, his bastard daughter with the power to harness the destructive powers of the sun.

It was baffling for you to comprehend why exactly Cassian was so worried for you when you had the ability to unleash heavenly fire across Prythian if you so wished it. That, and the fact that the bond had snapped for Cassian one evening in Day was why Rhys had lobbied for your presence in his court in the first place all those years ago, long before Amarantha.

Amarantha was intrigued by you, you were the only individual she wasn't able drain power from, your abilities were other-worldly, untouchable. So, she gave you an option, stay uninvolved and advise her or watch your brother perish before your eyes. You chose the former.

All you have is your fire. Use it.

Amarantha erupted into flames when she had killed Feyre, unable to free herself from the bindings you had chained around her limbs. She had screamed, gargled in fact as you stood behind her, hands at your sides and your mind ripping her apart from the inside out. Boiling and burning her alive. Fire danced through your hair, it burned brightly in your eyes, sunlight pulsed around you, a blinding thing, a warning to others.

Your power was not yours to gift, it was not for anyone else to yield but you, Helion knew as much and was stern as he told Tamlin that you were not to offer up any of your power to save the human girl in his arms.

That said human girl, Feyre, now your High Lady, had grown to be a very good friend of yours.

Rising from the depths of the cream silken sheets, you touched your rough cheeks, crying for hydration from the tears you had poured upon them for the eighth night in a row. The bond had gone cold by your own foolish wish, you had locked it off, you had refused any attempts of contact, and Helion had obliged and denied your presence in his court when Rhys and Cassian had reached to him, Helion had even gone as far as to plant a seed in Feyre's mind that you may be in Autumn since Eris was a good friend of yours despite his relationship with the Night Court.

Autumn was the one place they would have difficulty infiltrating, and Eris was more than happy to play along if it gave you some peace.

Eight days was the longest you had gone without Cassian, without anything flowing through the bond, without seeing him, without being wrapped up in his body as he fucked you relentlessly into oblivion.

It was exhausting.

The Day Court sun brought some life back to you, cascading her glow upon you and enriching your skin with her gentle loving shimmer. She had always doted on you, the energy she bestowed upon you was unmatched, and you often found her watchful eye following you wherever you walked, whispering to you always.

The sun had chosen you, her vessel, to right the wrongs of the world, and Cassian always chose to look over that fact.

Your home court was known for its elaborate fashion, the ornate gold jewellery and accessories that you had found wrapped around your hands and feet, and the halo crown caressing the back of your head. The dress you had worn held a solid gold bodice of intricate swirls that allowed your skin to peek out beneath it, that attached to a pale shimmering skirt, and golden chains draped across your collarbones and fell down your spine. It moulded to your figure perfectly.

You were not weak or jealous, or reckless, you were a child of the sun, a strong and formidable creature. No one, not even Cassian, could take that from you.

Cassian had been cursed out by every member of your shared family when he had arrived at the House of Wind looking like shit with a bag between his fingers.

He thought he was right. He thought he was protecting you. But after having his ass handed to him by Azriel and Rhys, and Feyre and Mor's stern words, and Amren's glare of pure disgust, Cassian knew he had fucked up.

Cassian had raced back to your shared home, one that was a harmonious myriad of light and dark, of sun and night, and found it solemn and empty. He had raced up the stairs, he had looked in your drawers and saw everything still in place, then he had headed to your vanity and inhaled sharply when he saw that the small picture of your mother had gone, which meant you had too.

Screaming down the bond, Cassian was met with a stone cold wall of rippling silence, and he broke. Cassian fell to his knees holding one of your dressed between his fingers, it still smelt of you, of hot salted ocean breezes and fresh roses, and he cried.

He had spent the next week trying to locate you, being turned away from every court, even Helion had no idea where you had gone, but had told Feyre that you may have gone to Eris, your friend, as you knew that would be the one place he couldn't get to you.

Rhys had demanded entry to Autumn, which Eris had refused with a sly smirk on the boarder, his hounds circling through his legs. Eris was enjoying Cassian's pain far too much and had the gall to quip, "She doesn't want to see you, Lord of Bloodshed. Perhaps you listen to her this time, considering you have a habit of refusing to."

A spit in the face of his love for you. Cassian had gone to step over the threshold only to be held back by Azriel, Eris' hounds were snarling and barking at the three Illyrians trying to enter their home, "You would risk war?"

Eris grinned, fixing the lapels of his jacket, "A war would take y/n from you forever. I don't think you'd be that stupid," he turned from them, whistling for his hounds to follow, "As long as she's here, she will be fine. I suggest you go home and mull over the ways in which you have failed her."

Missions were the only thing that would give Cassian the opportunity to relent his frustrations, his force was sickening, he broke the bones of their enemies with his bare hands, he ripped them apart with his own self-loathing fury. Azriel had never seen Cassian in such a state, he blamed himself for your disappearance, and rightfully so, any of them could have told him that you were capable of destroying him if needed, let alone anyone else. Though, Azriel didn't blame Cassian for trying to protect you, for believing that your bond could bring harm to you, Azriel would think the same if he were in Cassian's shoes.

"Cass, we do need at least one of them alive," Azriel followed his brother on his war path, he watched him in concern as he drove his sword through the hearts of many soldiers.

Bodies lay broken around them, blood coated the ground and walls, it was a monstrous sight to take in. Cassian's hair lay unbound on his shoulders, matted with sweat that coated his brow, his wings were tense as he swung, they shuddered in fear of his force.

Cassian grunted to Azriel, whipping his air away from his face and facing him with a dead glare behind his hazel eyes, "Fine," he smirked and sheathed his sword, motioning to Azriel to approach the singular male who was moments away from death.

Blood coated his lips, his eyes had dimmed, but he still wore evil like a brooch on his heart, he spat the contents of his bloody mouth at Azriel as he bent down to grasp him by the collar, "You're going to tell me of your plans to attack Velaris, you're going to tell me and I may spare you."

The male chuckled low and sinister, hatred blazed in his faltering eyes and he smiled, toothy, but blood coated the once yellow tinged teeth. There wasn't much time to get answers, "We're already moving, you're too late."

Azriel cocked his head to the side, "I'm going to need more than that. I can make this much more painful for you," Truthteller dragged across the males bobbing throat, he knew of the Shadowsinger, he had heard to rumours of his ruthless torture.

The males gaze flickered to Cassian who stood behind Azriel, leaning against the bloodied wall looking disinterested, "You can thank him for that," his finger twitched in Cassian's direction, "Do you really believe that your High Lord is the protector of your court?" The male leaned forward, "Your greatest protector, the most powerful being in Prythian, is no longer being hidden by your court. She is elsewhere, we have been watching her, preparing for the perfect moment to snatch her away. With her power in our grasp, we will be unstoppable."

Cassian felt panic settle in his soul as the male continued, bitterly laughing as he spoke, "Y/N. A child of the sun, back in her home court, ready to follow her destiny. You can thank your Lord of Bloodshed for accelerating our plans."

Azriel turned to Cassian with wide eyes, eyes that Cassian matched. It was never about attacking Velaris, it was about capturing you, using your power for their own tyrannical plans, bleeding you dry and taking your power from your body.

"Cass-"

But Cassian was already moving, turning on his heels and pelting from the room as fast as he could, flexing his wings to ready them for flight whilst calling out to Rhys to meet them at the Day Court Palace as fast as possible.

Cassian flew as fast as he could, he would never be able to forgive himself if anyone harmed you, especially when he had made it so easy for them to reach you. He had to find you, he had to stop it, he had to save you.

Helion growled at the intrusion of the three Illyrians entering his personal library that was three times the size of the library at the House of Wind, but his snarl faltered when he saw the frenzied eyes and the blood coating Cassian and Azriel's armour. He rose from his seat quickly, not having a moment to say anything when Cassian paced over to him, "I don't have time for pleasantries. She's in danger. Where is she?"

Helion noted the fire in Cassian's eyes, the way his siphons glowered dangerously in awaiting answer, "How do I know that this isn't some elaborate ruse to take her?"

Azriel stepped forward, voice low in warning, noticing Cassian's fists clench and his chest seethe with anger, "Our enemies have been hunting her, they wish to drain her power and unleash it on the world. We need to find her."

Helion's language shifted, he faced Cassian with equal fury, going toe to toe with the Lord of Bloodshed and bit, "If anything happens to my sister, I will end you."

"I will end myself before you ever could, now tell me where she is."

A wild wind bellowed through the open arches, enough for Helion to wince at the forceful impact. That wind swarmed through the palace, it was wild and cold, it was a warning from the world to run and hide. Helion fought against it toward the balcony, his locks whipping around in the tornado that had encased his court, his eyes focused on the forest in the distance and he pointed, "She's in there."

Then, from nowhere, bright thunderous light quaked from the sky as large spheres of sun fire raced past them and slammed into the ground below, where you were. The trees lurched with the impact, splintering and sprouting in differing directions, wailing at their demise, and the ocean dragged itself back to a safe distance. Fire rained from the sky, but the wind was too forceful for any of them to fly to you.

"RHYS!" Cassian bellowed to his brother, their eyes locked and he nodded, catching Cassian with a free hand with Azriel in the other, winnowing them to where they needed to be.

The scene was sickening. Trunks lay cracked and broken, simmering fire trickled along the earth that rumbled beneath their feet with each impact of fire that slammed against the ground. They couldn't see two feet in front of them let alone much else due to the heavenly light that emitted from you, but Cassian felt you, for the first time in what felt like centuries, he felt you.

Cassian felt your fury course down the bond, it was mixed with fear and guilt, and it lead them straight to you. In return, he threw all of his love down the bond as another sphere of your fire hurtled down through the sky, and he swore he could have heard you gasp and pause.

The light dimmed, and their eyes adjusted to see you in the clearing metres ahead from them, surrounded by bodies, some bloody and other burnt beyond recognition. A dagger was glued between your fingers and you let our a shaky exhale, like you didn't realise you had been holding your breath all that time.

The clearing looked more like a crater, a once plush area of wildlife that you sought comfort in was now a crater of ash and broken souls, and Cassian watched your cracked eyes survey your surroundings, hating what you had done.

Cassian rushed to you, slamming his body into yours and cradling you into his chest, "Are you alright?" He pulled away and cupped your face in his hands gingerly, wiping away the ash that had settled on your cheeks, "Speak to me, my love."

"I'm okay," your voice was hoarse and quiet, your eyes connected and he saw the tears pool in them along with the devastation that coursed through the bond, "I'm sorry. You were right-"

"Don't apologise," he told you, wiping away the tears that spilled down your ashen cheeks, leaving streaks of sunlight flowing down them, "I was wrong, so wrong. You don't need anyone to protect you, you aren't weak or jealous, you are strong and more capable of protecting yourself more than anyone I know. You are your greatest protector, not me. I'm so sorry, I was just trying to keep you tucked away and safe. But you've always meant to shine, I never should have tried to stop it."

"You were trying to keep me safe, Cass," your voice trailed off and you examined the scene, paying no notice to Rhys and Azriel at the edge of your crater, "What have I done?"

Cassian's fingers ran through your hair, "You did what you had to, alright? It's okay. If I hadn't pushed you away then none of this would have happened. I'm so stupid. I'm so sorry."

Your hands lay on his chest and you sighed, "Take me home, Cass. I can't be here."

Cassian had doted on you the moment you were back in his arms, he ordered Rhys to winnow you both back to your shared home whilst Azriel stayed to assure Helion that you were fine and in need of some much needed time with your mate.

The searing heat of the tub wound around your muscles and soothed the ache in your soul. The water was far too hot for Cassian to climb into, so he instead sat on the edge of the tub and washed your hair, picking apart the knots within it and allowed his large hands to unwind the bundled nerves in your shoulders.

When the water had gone cold, he lifted you from the tub and dried your limbs, he brushed your damp hair and dressed you in a thin nightgown, and not once did he stop apologising to you, not once did his lips stop peppering kisses along your shoulders and forehead.

You stood before him, needing much more than just sweet kisses and kind words.

"Tell me what you need," he had said when he saw the look in your eyes, one that radiated doubt but also desire.

Cassian stood still in front of you, his hands resting on your hips and you stood on your tiptoes to capture his lips in a searing kiss, one that he hummed into, allowing his hand to cradle the back of your head as he deepened it. Cassian had missed your lips too much.

Against his own building desire, Cassian gently pushed you backward, "My love, you're hurting," he didn't want to take advantage of your vulnerability in that moment.

"Do you love me?"

Cassian frowned, and let out a disbelieving scoff, "More than anything."

"Good," you pressed your lips to his again, pulling back slightly and peering at him through your lashes, "Because I need you to fuck me like you don't."

His cock twinged at the words and he closed his eyes, opening them to see you push the straps of your nightgown over your shoulders, revealing your peaked nipples to him as it fell down your body. Cassian knew why you needed it, you needed to feel something other than the pain of destroying one of your most sacred places, you needed him in the most passionate way possible.

"Are you sure?" Fire spread through him when you used his forearms as leverage to capture his lips on yours again, in a starving embrace, one that sent blood pooling to his cock that throbbed against his leathers in knowing that where it needed to be was only inches away.

Cassian walked you backwards until your legs hit the back of your bed and you lowered yourself onto the mattress. Fierce lust was laced within you, you propped you heels up on the frame and spread your legs to your mate, that feral animalistic need to be rutted filling the room illuminated by flickering candlelight.

Wasting no time, Cassian ripped his leathers from his body and fell to his knees before you, his muscles contracted in the golden hue of the room, he grasped your thighs and dragged you toward him, his warmth breath fanning over your core as he placed kisses down your stomach and in the creases of your thighs, making you suck in a shaky breath as he placed a final peck to the bundle of nerve that were aching for his tongue.

"I've missed the taste of you so much, my love," the movement of his lips on your skin made electricity course through you, the stubble of his beard scratching against your inner thighs.

Whining, your back arched when he drug his tongue up your slit, the groan emitting from his throat vibrating against you threatening to blind all of your senses. He smiled against your core, winding his tongue around your clit and sucking on the nerves, his fingers dug into your thighs to stop your squirming as his pace became relentless. Sucking, biting, and swirling his tongue in the ways he knew made you turn into a mewling mess, he pumped his cock in his hand to relieve the building pressure, to allow him to focus on you, his beautiful moaning mess of a mate completely at his mercy.

Cassian lapped up your taste, groaning in pleasure at it as he pumped his digits in you, pressing down on your stomach with his free hand to make that rough spot inside of you meet every brush of his touch. He noted the hitch of your breath and the way your fingers found his hair, pushing his face into your cunt, telling him how close you were from falling from grace. Cassian kept his pace, taking your throbbing clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it as his fingers hit that spot again and again until you were crying out his name and tensing around his fingers.

Your mate continued his tirade, pulling two more orgasms from your lips before his pace slowed and he removed his fingers from you. Humming, he sucked your juices from one of his fingers and then slid the other into your mouth as he hovered over you, his cock ready and weeping on your thigh.

He threw your clenched legs apart and nestled between them, "You can thank me tomorrow," he told you, no doubt alluding to the fact that your lips hadn't found his cock yet, "I just need you."

Without warning, he pushed into you, and his delicious cock stretched you out, you threw your head back and moaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he lowered himself and captured your lips hungrily against his own, transferring the taste of you to your tongue. He moved, slowly at first, and you met his hips in the rolling rhythm he had created, then he became more desperate and picked up his pace, biting and sucking at the skin on your neck, no doubt marking it for everyone to see once he would allow you out of your bed after fucking you on every surface possible.

Cassian groaned into the crook of your neck, his fingers held a bruising grip on your hip as he slammed into you, the tip of his cock smacking against that rough spot inside of you, "I love you, y/n. I love you so much," his brows were furrowed, like he knew how much force he was using and had to tell you how much he loved you just in case he was taking it too far.

Panting, you replied, "I love you too, Cass. I love you," you were cut off by your own moan, your hands flew above your head encased in his own, he gripped the sheets and snarled and he pulled out of you and flipped you over, pushing your head into the mattress and growling as the tip of his cock teased your entrance again, and you took it in it's entirety, groaning so deliciously that it took everything within Cassian to not explode at the sight of your ass bouncing on his cock.

Cassian bent down, his fingers delicately wrapped around your throat and pulled you upright, his fingers stayed there, restricting your oxygen in the best way imaginable as he pushed up into you, sucking and nibbling on your earlobes and neck between his own rough moans of pleasure.

As long as you had Cassian, there was nothing else you'd ever need to feel fulfilled. He was everything, your life and death, your shoulder to sob upon, your cock to cum on. Cassian was yours, his soul belonged to you just like every fibre of your existence hung onto him.

"Stay. Don't ever leave me again," his voice was full of emotion in your ear as he fucked you into the whispering depths of the ocean that was your bond.

Cassian's free hand twisted at your nipples before travelling downward, resting atop your stomach and pushing your hips backward to meet his relentless thrusts, and you felt the familiar pressure building there, holding on wasn't possible when his fingers travelling further, finding your clit and tracing slow circles into the nerves, smirking into your shoulder as high pitched cries flowed from your lips.

"I'll never leave you," you were breathless, and you hardly felt him pull out from you as he pushed you onto your back again, throwing your leg over his arm and pounding into you until he began to falter. His lips found your nipple again, sucking and biting on the sensitive nub of skin, and his fingers continued to flicker over your clit, "Cass, please. I'm going to-"

"So am I," he groaned, pressing his forehead to yours, "Cum for me, my love," Cassian pressed his lips to yours, capturing your orgasm in his mouth before releasing your lips to allow you to scream his name as that searing white heat consumed your entire body.

Cassian could have swore you began to glow as it consumed you, and you basked in that warmth, he basked in the clench of your walls quivering around his cock and milking him until there was nothing left to fill you with. Your mate fucked you through both of your highs, groaning your name and growling as he filled you, panting as he slowed his pace and lay on top of you.

In the comfortable silence, you found him staring at you with wonder, he hovered over you propped up on his elbows, tracing his fingers along your glistening skin, "What?"

Cassian smiled, "I want a baby," he admitted, "I can't stop myself from being scared about losing you, a part of me will always be terrified. But, what I can stop is myself holding back in the life I dream of with you," his hazel eyes scoured your face, and peace settled between you, "I want a product of us, of our love and strength. I want a family with you, a big family full of love and wonder and adventure where you have to tell me off after our fourth for wanting another," you giggled tearfully beneath him and he wiped a tear away with the pad of his thumb, "The idea of losing you is my greatest fear, y/n. I don't want anything to happen to us, and I don't want us to be left with nothing if-"

"Cass," you cooed to him, pulling him from the devastating thoughts in his mind, "I want all of that too, I want the picket fence and enough children to drive Az insane. Enough cousins for Nyx for them all to grow up in their own inner circle and replace us all one day. I want a life with you void of sadness. I want you, forever, even when our day comes to leave this reality, I will want you and I will guide you to the heavens so that we may live in an eternity of love waiting for everyone we adore to join us."

Cassian pulled you up the bed and encased you in his arms, draping a thin sheet over your forms and running his fingers through your hair whilst you kissed his chest softly, "You found me in darkness and we made our own light. We burn brighter than anything that may await us," he kissed your forehead and gazed into your eyes, a smirk worked its way onto his face, "The sun has nothing on you, you know."

Authors Note

Daddy Casssss

Hope you love it! x

291 notes · View notes

norrisleclercf1 · 8 months

Note

Mafia!pierre where he kidnaps reader to negotiate with her dad (another mafia leader) but slowly starts falling for her and gets protective?

Warnings: Kidnapping, bad language, protective!Pierre, murder

Words: 1.3K

A/N: Yeahhhh I started writing and it turned into a fic, whoops

"You kidnapped her?" Pierre looks up from his paperwork, a slight smile on his lips. "Maybe." Pierre's right-hand man groans, throwing his arms up, and walks away. "Whatever, her bastard of a father deserves it anyway," Pierre grumbles, thinking about a particular person sleeping in his bed.

It was pretty easy to kidnap you. You'd think the daughter of a Mafia Boss would have exceptional security, but Pierre and his men could move in and take you without a fuss. It helped that they had an insider slip you a sedative during your nightly tea.

Pierre groans, clicking on the security cameras to check in on you. Seeing you curled around his pillow and still out, he smiles. Your father will notice soon that you have been taken and come screaming for your back. Yet, it will be challenging for him to get you back. As Pierre will finally have his demands met.

Bored, he leaves his office, heads to his bedroom, and nods off the guards as he enters his room. "Shame, you are delicious looking," Pierre whispers, poking your cheek, watching how you wince, batting his finger away. "Leave m awone." Words muffled by his pillow, Pierre rolls his eyes.

"Don't want to wake, fine, I'll wake you." Grabbing the glass of water on the nightstand, he throws it right in your face. "Ahhh." Waking up with gasps, face and neck cold from the water, and suddenly woken. "How dare you wake me up like this! Father will-" You stop blinking when you see someone you know all too well.

"Gasly." You hiss, Pierre smirking as he sets the glass down. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he rocks back onto his heels. "You're a deep sleeper and far too trusting of your father's staff." Unable to think of a comeback, you glare at Pierre, who rocks forward, poking your cheek. Slapping his hand away, he chuckles.

"Wonder how much Daddy will give me for you? I'm sure it's a lot." Wincing at his words, you know the truth. Pierre will see nothing from your father; that man could care less for you. If your mother was still around, maybe he'd care, but with his new mistress and her pregnant, you were trash to him.

"You'll get nothing from him." You bite back. Pierre clicking his tongue, bops your nose, knowing you hate it. "Please, his precious baby daughter? He'll give me whatever I want when he finds out you've been taken." Looking away, you take in the dark classic French and Roman architecture, shocked by his excellent taste.

"You'll get nothing," Sighing, you look down. "I mean nothing to him." The last part whispered that Pierre didn't hear it. "Speak up, Y/n. It's annoying when you mumble. Don't get comfortable in my bed unless." He steps forward, leaning in the heavy scent from the pillow floating off him. "You want to warm my bed for me every night." Slapping him hard on the cheek, you scramble off and slam the bathroom door having to pee.

"Awwww, don't pout cherie. You and I can have our own fun." His laugh echoes as he leaves you alone. "Creepy French bastard. Hate that you smell good." You hiss, staring at the cologne that was clearly his. "Oops." Hand knocking it over as it spills open and down the sink. "Hope you're not a limited edition." Skipping to the shower.

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5 weeks later

"Clearly, her father doesn't give a fuck about her. We can just kill her now." Pierre doesn't answer, watching the camera outside as you tan; you're so still; Pierre sent someone to watch and make sure you don't fall asleep. "We're not killing her," Pierre growls, glaring at the men before him.

"Of course not, because you've been fucking her every night since she's been here." The room goes still as Pierre searches for the one who said that, eyes land on the one person not looking him in the eyes. "You've got the ball to say it, but not look me in the eyes and say it?" The guy looks up, face pale, staring at the ice-cold eyes of his Don. "It's true, though; she's been in your room every night. Fucking that whore." Pierre shoots out of his chair.

Grabbing the guy by the collar, he slams his head down hard, and a sickening crack bounces off the walls. "If you think I'd stick my dick in her pussy you are very wrong. But, I will not tolerate you calling her a whore. Burying him in the sea." He lets the guy slide down as the others move fast. "No one bothers me for the rest of the day." Pierre closes the cameras down, heading to the pool.

"You'll burn if you stay out here." Groaning at your peace being ruined. "Go away, Gasly. I'm sure you're busy with my father." The lie tastes like acid on your tongue. "I'm ignoring him." Pierre, not wanting to tell you the truth. He licks his lips, the 2 acts of kindness he's done for you today making him sick.

Technically it's 3 acts of service as he let you stay in his room. Pierre has been sleeping on the couch in the room, having never touched you. He's joked about it but stops and walks away when he senses your uneasiness. The anger in his office, hearing his men call for your death, felt wrong; even hearing that bastard call you a whore was like a pit. He hates that he knows how you take your tea, favorite scents, flowers, etc.

It was small stuff that you'd tell him at night. The silence in the room was deafening, and you couldn't handle it. Pierre noticed and placed a small sound machine in the room, only turning it on when you stopped talking. He hates that your father doesn't care you've been kidnapped. That he still hasn't sent word that his daughter was missing, nothing. It makes him want to tear the man apart.

"You're lying. Found out the truth have you?" You pull off Pierre's sunglasses, watching the man before you look away, suddenly interested in the pool. "Like I said, I'm ignoring him. He's sent something, but I wasn't satisfied with it." Pierre snaps, angry at himself more than you. Rolling your eyes, you lay back down, soaking in the sun. "You can lie to me all you want, but I'm waste. Father has his dumb little mistress ready to pop soon, and the moment it's a son, he'll send someone here and kill me." Pierre freezes upon hearing those words.

Why does he get this pit in his stomach anytime someone mentions you dying? It's stupid; you're the enemy. Yet he cares when he sees that rejected look in your eyes and wants to take it away or learn another fact about you.

Shit, he was fucked. Was he starting to care for you? No, he couldn't be. You're an annoying person who spilled his favorite cologne yet clings to his pillow to inhale more. He likes when you tell him his stupid orange shorts look lovely against his sun-kissed skin or his eyes are like rare sapphires. He hates that you pick flowers and bring them into his office. How you have become too comfortable in his daily routine and home. Like you're supposed to be here.

"No one will hurt you while you're under my care. If anyone so much as jokes about it, tell me." Looking back, you see how serious Pierre is. Hearing a commotion, you look, seeing a black bag and people struggling. "Is that what you mean? Killing your own people?" Not at all disturbed by the scene. You've seen worse while living with your father.

Taking a step forward, he touches your chin, the two of you looking at each other. "Yes, I don't care how many of them I kill. No one touches what's mine." Dropping your chin, he walks off, leaving you there.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1!mafia #mafia!pierre #mafia!f1 #pierre gasly f1 #f1 pierre gasly #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly fic #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly fanfic

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evilminji · 2 months

Text

You know what's my JAM?

Extremes being treated as the Serious Dangers they ARE, even when they aren't "oooh its a spooky Grey morality and BADness!" Extreme.

Like? No, people. ALL of them are bad. They are ALL face melting dangerous. The void may crush your soul, but look upon the Face Of GOD? Not gonna be having a fun time! Doesn't MATTER if he's a cool dude! Face melting!

We are creatures of BALANCE. Tiny, fragile, little motes of dust. That can only exsist in the careful, blended, dances of territories and powers that be. We squishy.

Ghosts? Less squishy.

Poor impulse control, too. Especially ones with Fenton genetics. ABSOLUTELY ones with Fenton genetics and a trauma based aversion to therapy. That one? Pretty hardy. Made pretty tough, what with being Fates third favorite chew toy. But? Still gets the Sads, you know? The slightly longer then just seasonal depression.

Would medicine and some therapy help? Oh like a dream!

If medicine WORKED on his Ectoplasmicly contaminated ass. And he TRUSTED therapists.

But... surely, Danny thinks, as he sits grossly in his Depression sweatpants and eats suspect pizza on the floor of his moldering shoebox of an apartment, there must be SOME way to address his Depression? He should... he should DO something about it. Take a break maybe. Look up some ghost doctors or something.

.....

Oooooooooor..... >.>

He could break out that OMENIOUS af, bound in suspect leather, Big Book Of Forbidden Knowledge(TM) that he got from Pariah's.... what, fourth? Fifth? Library? Fuck that Lair is huge. He's STILL cleaning it out and it's been over half a decade. He swears it spawns more floors just to mock him. Bastard. Don't know HOW a building can be a Bastard, but it sure found A WAY.

Anyway!

Book it is! *horrifying Eldritch light as he opens it* huh. Neat. Comes with its own visual effects. *another bite of suspect pizza* Funky.

And so! Danny, the depressed King Of The Zone... fucks of to go cheer himself up in the Fields Of Bliss(TM), an area of Absolute Bliss. Which! Sounds GREAT in theory, now don't it? Lovely even.

Remember that little comment about extremes?

You can ENTER those fields. But no one leaves. No one CAN. The deeper you go? The more doomed you become. Less will to do anything at all. Eat, talk, move. So much as think. Like ALL extreme "Goods", it sounds lovely, but the reality is no gentle little thing.

It's a glue trap.

But how could Danny have known? Honestly, who would have TAUGHT him? Textbooks can only go so far, after all. And placing blame will not rescue the young monarch.

I imagine it's one of his helpers that pieces together what's happened. Come for further clarification on WHERE exactly he wants certain statues moved. Only? Your Majesty? Your Majesty...? Where ever could he BE? Oh? He's left out some of his books. Well, I'll just assist by putting them away for-.....

Oh.

OH ANCIENTS, NO.

But! What can the poor man DO? Ghosts are Beings of Will, Emotion, and Obsession. Were it some sort of Holy Blade or Sentient Tree, you know, something INDIVIDUAL with a will they could FIGHT? Oh no problem. But an area of effect? Especially an EMOTIONAL area of effect!? Ooooooh, this is bad. The Zone can't AFFORD to lose ANOTHER King!

We JUST GOT THIS ONE!!!

Wait. He's heard that there's an organization for this! That loudly cursing fellow who got violently thrown back into the Zone. "Ruined his fun" and all that! Perfect! He'll just hire THEM!

Smashcut? To a nice, peaceful, everybody's screaming Justice League Meeting. John's cursing life, extremely hungover. Zatana still has three cracked ribs. Wonder Woman is enjoying the new sword she... liberated... mid battle. Truely stunning craftsmanship. When?

Knock Knock!

Heads swivel. There... is a glowing green... accountant? Dandy? Dandy accountant. With an equally radioactive day glow green Actual Pirate's Chest Of Treasures, floating next to him. In the void of space; Just beyond the glass. What, the, fuuuuuu-

He seems to be under the impression they are some sort of Heroic mercenaries. And has come to request the retrieve-

"NNNNNOPE! Pariah can SHOVE it!" Snarls a suddenly very awake John Constantine, sitting up straight for the first time in hours. The rest of Dark grimly nod in agreement. Let the fucker rot. It's a kinder fate then he deserves.

No, no, NO! King PHANTOM! Pariah's SUCCESSOR by right of combat! They are not, and were never, allied in any way!

Well, all right then. Road trip to save a young idiot then.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing

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themissinghand · 7 months

Text

Omniscient Reader Viewpoint Have You Seen My Werepuppy?

Summary: In which our lovely regressor turned into a werewolf and craves your attention. (Or Kim Dokja wants some love too)

Pairing: Yoo Joonghyuk x GN! Reader x Kim Dokja

Note: Love these two idiots to death. So here is a fluffy short.

Warning: None.

★・・・・・・★

[New Scenario available]

[Only available to incarnation "Yoo Joongyhyuk"]

[Accept?]

[Yes/No]

[The Constellation ‘Constellation Who Likes to Change Genders’ urges incarnation "Yoo Joonghyuk" to accept the scenario]

"What is the reward?" Yoo Joonghyuk says, suspicious of his intentions.

[10,000 coins]

"What do I have to do?"

[The Constellation ‘Constellation Who Likes to Change Genders’ tells incarnation "Yoo Joonghyuk" to make a choice quickly before he offers it to other incarnations]

Yoo Joonghyuk twitched his eyebrow before he glared at the floating blue screen.

"Don't you dare." Han Sooyoung (who believed she was at the wrong place and wrong time), warned him.

"If it's something dangerous, I'm not going to take responsibility for your sorry ass."

"Shut up."

Without another moment of thought, Yoo Joonghyuk accepted the scenario.

"You idiot-"

A bright light and Yoo Joonghyuk prepared himself for a fight.

But once the bright light faded away, there was nothing but a blue screen in front of him.

He heard a dramatic gasp beside him, but his focus was on the blue screen. His eyes widened before he dropped to the ground on one knee and he felt his body change.

He can hear Loki, that bastard, and Han Sooyoung just laughing at him.

“For a scary bastard like you, you have a fluffy ass tail!”

Kim Dokja wasn't sure what he was witnessing.

Everyone was panicking, to say the least, and you weren’t there.

Perfect.

A growling Yoo Joonghyuk in werewolf form. His sword was gripped tightly in his hand, and no matter what others were yelling, he wouldn't budge. It was as if he was protecting his territory, and Kim Dokja assumed it was because of his new transformation.

Kim Dokja curses at whichever constellation that did this.

Kim Dokja felt a chill down his spine when the protagonist met his eyes. It was glaring at him like a mad dog, while grinding his teeth and brandishing his sword.

What did he do now? He didn't even do anything!

What could he even do? When that sunfish is swinging swords at whoever comes close? When that bastard is so angry that he is emitting such a murderous aura?

Damn you protagonist!

"What's going on?" Kim Dokja let out a sign of relief when you walked to his side.

You who had just come back from your training with Jung Heewon, and were very much tired to deal with this, but came anyway.

After all, it is the sunfish bastard that you and Kim Dokja know very well.

As a fellow reader who committed to finishing the longest web novel in history, you bet that you would be here (with Kim Dokja) to make sure the protagonist survives.

That is what you two swore upon after the world turned upside down. Just an oath between readers, as friends, to survive.

"That idiot turned into a werewolf!"

Thanks Han Sooyoung.

"Is it Loki again?" You responded immediately and Kim Dokja returned a nod and a sigh.

“God Dammit. Alright, so Dokja, any plans or…”

Dokja put a hand on your shoulder, “Nope, I got none-”

Holy shit, did Yoo Joonghyuk just growl at him?

Kim Dokja heard a sigh beside him and something about more work before his best friend walked ahead.

"(Y/N)! Don't get too close!"

"That ahjussi went crazy!"

"Stay back! You're not a match for Master!"

The kids yelled and even Kim Dokja wanted to stop you, but after he saw how calm and collected you were, Kim Dokja held back.

As always, you were confident and quick to adapt in any situation. Perhaps you noticed something about the werewolf state.

Until Kim Dokja saw you unbuttoning the top button and exposing your neck-

"(Y/N)! What are you doing?" Kim Dokja flushes. He would have rushed to your side if Yoo Joonghyuk wasn't ready to pounce on him.

"What a big angry pup." Kim Dokja hopes that his best friend won't be cut in half.

But it was odd. The closer you went, the less fussy that sunfish seemed. In fact, when you stood in front of the growling wolf, the wolf seem to stop and wonder as well.

On how in the world that this little person wasn't afraid of him, and why they was exposing their neck-

“(Y/N)!”

You put up both hands in surrender before you spoke.

"Put down your sword, Joonghyuk-ah."

Slowly (shockingly), the protagonist lowered his sword. Then, he just stared.

What the fuck is happening?

The sunfish hugged you and buried his face deep in the older's shoulder. Wait no, the Yoo Joonghyuk was sniffing your neck like a wolf.

You and Kim Dokja let out a long sigh.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yes?" Kim Dokja flinched when Yoo Joonghyuk growled at him and wrapped both arms around you possessively.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"I'm fine. At least for now."

"Shouldn't we try to reverse this?"

"We could, but we don't know what scenario Joonghyuk-ah got. Whatever it is, I'm assuming he must finish it. Right Loki?"

[The Constellation ‘Constellation Who Likes to Change Genders’ is nodding in agreement]

"Then shouldn't we try to get Master to communicate with us?"

You rubbed the little wolf’s head and the other responded by rubbing his head back.

Who would have thought that Yoo Joonghyuk could be tamed?

Kim Dokja on the other hand, felt like whatever this scenario was, Yoo Joonghyuk was taking full advantage of it, seeing how the wolf kept looking his way in a smug way.

"He can't read, write, or speak, but he can fight like a wolf, and recognize people. Though if there is one thing about the scenario, it most likely has something to do with me."

“Yea, and against me.” You chuckled at your best friend’s annoyed face, and he rolled his eyes.

"Alright, alright, give me a day and I’ll see if I can figure it out. I'm gonna spend a day with this baby wolf."

“Baby wolf? More like a beast.” Han Sooyoung quipped, and many agreed.

You on the other hand had no issues, even while feeling the wolf’s sharp teeth against your neck. You thought it was cute that the Yoo Joonghyuk wanted your attention.

"If we're talking about taming animals, usually it would be Gilyoung-ah and Yoosung-ah to take care of it. But this one bites. So I'll take care of it." The children nod reluctantly.

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ is amused by this situation]

While others seem a bit hesitant, after your reassurance, they trusted you to figure this out. Kim Dokja on the other hand, was very worried, and so decided to stay in the vicinity in case anything were to go wrong.

"Now then," You lean back into Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest and his body, feeling his body engulf your smaller one.

[The Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is cooing at how cute you two look]

[The Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ have sponsored you 1000 coins]

"Let's tame a wolf."

Kim Dokja couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous (just a little), as he watched his best friend invest all of their attention on the protagonist.

And he knows that the werewolf is happy and smug about it!

When you feed Yoo Joonghyuk, when you groom him, and when you have to physically entertain him, Kim Dokja knew this was a scenario to mess with him.

[The Constellation ‘Constellation Who Likes to Change Genders’ hints to Incarnation ‘Kim Dokja’ to steal Incarnation ‘(Y/N)’ away]

[The Constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ agrees and urges Incarnation ‘Kim Dokja’ to be a brave man]

[The Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is excited for the drama to unfold and is at the edge of her seats]

Kim Dokja sighs and before he could say anything, you called.

“Dokja! I think I know what it is now!”

Kim Dokja widen his eyes in relief, finally-

“I think he just wants to make you jealous, so you have to kiss him or something. Like Beauty and the Beast!”

Kim Dokja’s jaw dropped.

[The Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ squeals]

[The Constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ is pulling out his hair]

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ is questioning your IQ but encourages anyway]

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ have sponsored you 1000 coins]

“Haha, just kidding, look at your faces. Ow, Hey!” Yoo Joonghyuk nibs at your neck, leaving another mark.

“(Y/N)...” Kim Dokja groans in frustration.

“But I do know the solution.” You say while suddenly standing up, knocking the wolf in his chin, and in that swift moment, you flipped your positions, with the wolf under your knee.

“You’re a good boy aren’t you?”

In the next moment, you kissed the fluttered wolf on his nose and then whispered in his ear,

“What a good boy.” In the most seductive voice you can mutter.

“(Y/N)?!” Kim Dokja blushed slightly at how provocative you and Yoo Joonghyuk's position looked.

One part of him want to be in that position too-

“Alright, you got what you wanted right? Loki?”

[The Constellation ‘Constellation Who Likes to Change Genders’ is happy]

“What? What did he want?” Kim Dokja was confused in the midst of all the messages from literally every constellation.

Until Kim Dokja saw it.

Yoo Joonghyuk in his human form, blushing.

Under you.

It didn’t last long before he violently reacted and wanted to murder both of you, but by then, you and Kim Dokja had already ran for your lives, and you with a picture in your hand.

“Worth it!”

“Bruh, you’re telling me the Yoo Joonghyuk has a praise kink?”

Han Sooyoung began running too.

“Oh and Dokja,” Kim Dokja looked your way, and suddenly he received a peck on his cheek.

“Don’t sulk just because you didn’t get a kiss.”

“Wha-” Kim Dokja flushed and put a hand to cover it.

“Don’t worry, you’re a good boy too.”

“(Y/N)!” He screeches as he suddenly sprints faster away in embarrassment.

“(Y/N)! Collect your wolf hubby!”

"I'm going to kill you (Y/N)!"

The chaos lasted for a bit, and in the midst of all that chaos, Loki was able to auction the video and images of every moment in the scenario.

Needless to say, Uriel and Secretive Plotter was definitely winning the majority of that auction.

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lunnybunny12 · 2 months

Text

Husk X Daughter reader

Requests open

I've always been a gambling man

Masterlist

Husk was your dad when you two were still alive. He was at his bar in the Hazbin Hotel, when you suddenly fell from Heaven down, through the roof of the hotel right into the bar

You died

Pretty simple right?

You died in a pretty normal way. No drink or drugs or pills just slipped away in your sleep.

At first, you felt weightless. like a balloon in the wind. Going up and up with no thoughts, just floating. The higher you went, the brighter it got. Brighter and brighter. It was all blurry.

You were so close. You felt warmth. You felt joy.

But then it stopped.

everything stopped when you felt something cold and heavy snap around your neck.

-----------------------------------

"OK, everyone. gather around were going to do another session" Charlie sang earning a groan from most of her guests.

It was an average day. Well ... as average as a hotel in hell could be. The Sky was red, the bar was full and Nifty was killing bugs.

"Seriously? What now?" Angel asked

"Yeah, do you need me to bring you some roaches to use as an example of what happens when they don't play nicely?" Nifty maniacally giggled with her knife.

"I appreciate the offer, Nifty, but maybe another time. No, today we will be doing 2 truths and a liiiiieeeee !!!! " Charlie cheered.

Another collective groan echoed through the lounge.

"Wiiiiithhhhhh alchoholllll !!!"

-------------------------------------------------------------

One by one everyone had their turn. some were relatively harmless and others not so much.

"And Alastor, It's your turn" Charlie smiled nervously

Across the room, a grumpy old cad was grumbled under his breath.

"As if you'll get that bastard to play this fucking game"

"Now now Husker don't be so quick to judge. that's what got YOU into trouble in the first place." Alastor chimed and walked to sit with the others in the lounge.

Husk growled.

"Now, let's see" Alastor grinned. " 1) I like dogs. 2) Jambalaya is my favourite food. 3) We will be expecting a new member of staff very soon."

Vaggie glared at the man " What?"

" A NEW PERSON!" Charlie beamed. "When are they gonna get here?"

Suddenly a loud crash was heard from the upper floors and came through the ceiling. Dust and rubble went flying everywhere leaving a thick cloud of muck in the air.

It smelled like fire and burning flesh. It made everyone caugh.

A claw crawled out of the mess. Large black eyes were darting around in panic. The creature stumbled to the bar, a mist of dust following close behind them.

"Ey! What the hell! My bar! Get away you fucker!"

"I just fell through your roof and you're giving me shit?" You hissed, trying to shake off as much dust as possible.

You erupted into a fit of coughs and wiped your eyes.

"Where the fuck am I?" you blinked. Your vision was hazy until a tall, red figure walked to meet you.

" Ah hello there my dear. Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. My name is Alastor, and you are?" He asked extending his hand for you to shake.

"I'm (Y/N)?" you answered, looking around.

It was a bit of a dump. But you did just fall through the ceiling. A lot of circus imagery covered the walls and everything was dripping stem to stern in red and gold.

The more you looked around the clearer it got you began to see other faces. One was a young lady. Long blond hair and a huge amazed and excited grin on her face. she was practically jumping for joy.

Another was a shorter lady. She wasn't as excited to see you. More like suspicious.

And then there was... A cat? A very horrified-looking cat... and a spider-person? A snake?

You started to panic. "W-What the fuck is this place? Why are some of you guys animals?"

"Speak for yourself there toots. You look like poos in boots" The spider laughed.

You looked at yourself and almost screamed. You were covered head to toe in ash grey fur, with black paw-like hands and claws for fingers. A long tail wrapped around your leg making you jump almost 3 feet in the air.

Tears were welling up in your black eyes and your heart was going a million miles an hour.

"Ok, understandably you're a little freaked out. Come with me. Im Charlie by the way." She smiled, taking your hand and leading you to a chair.

The second you were sat down Husk practically flew over the bar and dragged Alastor into the hall.

"What. The. Fuck. Is SHE doing here?!"

"The Hotel needed a Receptionist. She has plenty of experience and-"

"YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" Husk seethed.

"Did you do this to her? Did YOU kill her?"

"Husker I can do a lot of things but killing the living, I can not. You know exactly why she is here."

Alastor walked over to the door and looked at you with an evil grin.

"I can't say I see much of a resemblance Husker. Must take after her mother."

#hazbin hotel x reader #husk x reader #husk hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #vivziepop #helluva boss

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ceruleanchillin · 7 months

Text

141 x American Reader

141 x American Fem!Reader

Note -

I was trying to do some quick scenarios and got caught up. I still have yet to figure out how to get in and get out with my writing.

I had to do some research to see if they had a PX (The Exchange) in the UK, and they do! They even have a Charley’s.

I need so much more practice until I'm more confident in these characters (and their accents...)😩

Simon:

Boston wasn’t terrible in Simon’s eyes, but he would still rather be home. He wasn’t really on leave, he had business on behalf of the task force with some American contacts. However, it was a lot of downtime and waiting, and it was twisting his head around to be working and resting so frequently together. He liked most things separate, easier that way.

He’d certainly been in worse places to wait in. Worse safe houses, more unfamiliar environments where his anti-social quirks made trouble, no chance at a decent pub like the one he’d taken to frequenting a few blocks from the safe house.

He was approaching the very same pub at the moment. Mind racing to mentally prepare for his next briefing with Price and Laswell. He didn’t have much, the contacts seemed to be dragging their feet, and Simon was in a daily battle not to just go gather the intel himself and be done with it.

He went to pull the door, but through the glass, saw you behind the counter. That was strange, you worked on weekends. He knew, because once he connected his increased heartbeat and uncomfortably hot cheeks to you, he started avoiding the place.

It may have been the most authentic pub he’d encountered in America so far, but you were the prettiest woman he’d ever seen, and only one of these things made him sweat like he was back in basic.

He started to back away, but you’d seen him through the age-warped glass and were waving him in.

“You stupid pint-addict bastard.” he muttered, unnecessarily triple checking to make sure his mask was in place.

He’d honored his promise to Price, and kept to a half mask instead of his usual balaclava. At first he was tense, short when spoken to, and constantly running a hand through his hair to momentarily shield his face. The half mask helped, but not much. It just reminded him he wasn’t where he felt he should be. He wasn’t the one to play the diplomat

However, on your first meeting, you’d complimented the contrast between his eyelashes and his dark eyes. Between that, and you pouring his Guinness at an angle, the right way, he’d had to clear his throat twice before he felt it was safe to respond. He couldn’t remember what he said, his ears had rung like a flashbang went off too close.

It must have been smooth, because you ducked your head and quickly turned so he couldn’t see you grin. Too slow, for all the vistas and colorful fabrics he’d seen in his travels, your smile had taken the prize.

“Hey! Saved your seat!” you called out over the din, pointing to the rounded corner of the bar where there was only stool and a column to block him from most patrons. “Even though I shouldn’t have. You’ve been avoiding me, and don’t deny it. My co-workers have no filter.”

He winced, you’d caught him red handed. “Not avoiding you. Just working.”

“At avoiding me.” you stuck your tongue out at him.

It was surprisingly packed for a weekday, and as he got closer to the bar, he noticed there was some sort of event going on. Drink specials, a pool tournament, and calls to tourists. He cursed, and considered how fast he could down his drink and fake a work call.

“Sit.” you pinned him with a look. “I need another sane adult around me, now.”

“Sane?” he snorted. “You’ve got the wrong bloke in mind.”

“Yeah? You wanna go up against the kid who’s pledging and has been wearing that chicken suit for two weeks, or the “actress” who keeps switching characters with every drink?” You raised an eyebrow, pointing out your subjects without a care about looking rude.

“I wanna get on the first thing flying or floating out of here.”

“Take me with you, or I’ll steal your passport.” you slid the Guinness towards him, before leaning on your elbows, and closing some of the distance between you.

Simon had been tortured, beaten, and had given his fair share of the same back. He’d stared hardened terrorists in the eyes and made them back down every time. It was pretty silly of him, and he certainly felt it, to falter under your gaze, and yet he did.

His fingers danced around the bottom of the glass, letting the drink settle, before he lowered his mask and took a big sip. “You don’t have to bribe me love, just say the word and we’re gone.”

He wasn’t often embarrassed. Sometimes, Johnny made him cringe, but he was usually too removed from a situation, and the people in it, to allow for such an emotion. He’d long stopped caring about the looks he, as a masked behemoth, received and whatever thoughts were behind the eyes on him.

Of course, he couldn’t do that with you. He didn’t want to, but he literally couldn’t anyways. So he had to sit there, heat rising to his cheeks, and a mental mantra of ‘shoot me’ ringing through his head on a loop.

To his barely noticeable relief, your gaze somehow grew warmer, a smile spreading across your pretty face. “I’m holding you to that Si. You don’t get to blame the alcohol either, you’ve barely touched your drink.”

It was comfortably quiet between the two of you after that. You returned to work as your co-workers got less and less professional. Things got crazier, but it did allow for him to be mostly ignored in his corner, which he was thankful for. He felt for you though.

He had to play bouncer once when a guy got behind the bar, thinking you denied his number because you couldn’t hear him.

The look in your eyes as you sought distance made Simon act purely on instinct. His speed, size, and training ended the situation quickly. You’d given a relieved exhale of air, and ran a hand down his arm before you ran off to respond to a glass crisis. It occurred to him right then how far he’d go for you. As far as he would for his team, whom he considered something around the range of family.

It frightened him that he’d only known you a few weeks, yet your connection had gotten him this far, but there was nowhere to run from the truth internally. If there was, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to.

By closing, he was the last customer, and he’d offered to stay while you close up. It wasn’t the first time.

“You better.” you grinned, wiping down the bar.

He started to help you by turning the chairs up on to the tables, and junking miscellaneous trash. He laughed when he heard you shouting about how someone got vomit on the ceiling in the bathroom.

“Fuck it lovie, make the layabouts earn their keep tomorrow.” he called out in response.

He was deep in thought about where he was and what he was doing when he turned and saw you standing by him. You got the rare jump on him.

“Don’t think I’m crazy, or do, because maybe I am. I know you were joking earlier, but I really wish you weren’t.” you threw the formerly white rag in your hand in the trash, smiling, but your eyes held the same vulnerability he always felt around you.

He blinked owlishly, processing your words before standing up to his full height. “I wasn’t joking.”

—

Kyle:

You’re a party girl to your core, but you can’t help it. You run your own bath products company, and it’s hard work. No one should blame you for playing hard to match.

Gaz certainly didn’t blame you, in fact, your vibrant social media is what drew him in. He’d been constantly checking his phone on base, to the annoyance of his partner-in-crime Soap when their pranks and game time started to lack, because Gaz had to check what your new post alert was about.

It took him a minute, but he figured out your page was what Gaz was looking at (and so secretive about). He figured it out when Gaz started watching your live streams, and became so engrossed, Price would have to literally clap him on the back to get him on task.

Soap knew he could forget any plans made if you started a live.

Damnit, he wanted to know who was stealing one of his best mates.

Once he saw you in full, and not glancing around Gaz’s big head, he got it. You were beautiful, vibrant, obviously in the city’s in-crowd. You would’ve fit in perfectly with him and his mates as far as your ability to sniff out a good time went. He couldn’t be mad at you anymore, and it wasn’t just because he had a minor crush on you himself, he knew his friend was gone, and decided to help him out.

He swiped Gaz’s phone and sent him on a wild goose chase so he’d have time to act. Soap put everything he had into that first message, though it wasn’t until after he sent it, he realized it was full of Scots lingo, and he cringed trying to clean it up in the following message. He realized he’d made it worse, and the DM thread looked like a tweaker got hold of the phone.

“What are you doing?” Gaz sounded both panicked and furious, causing Soap to freeze in real time.

“Uh.., I needed…to order food?”

“Bruv, with my phone?!”

“I…also..wanted to find out where you got..that hat.”

Gaz blinked at him, with an expression that clearly asked if Soap’s last brain cell had finally found a better job.

“You were there with me, it was at The Exchange. Give me my phone.”

Soap instinctively yanked the phone out of reach. “Uh, well..wait.”

Gaz’s eyes widened, voice rising. “Mate, hand the phone over or-“

The DM message notification rang out loud enough to silence Gaz immediately. His eyes somehow got wider, his lips forming a tight line.

Soap’s eyes mirrored his own, and his fight or flight instinct was triggered. “I swear…I did this for ye, not to ye this time. Ye cannae be mad about it.”

A beat passed, and Soap tried to ease the incoming meltdown a little more.

“I may have messed the introduction up a little, but I bet she went for the follow up.”

Gaz said nothing, opting instead to lunge for the device. Soap, confused and thinking Gaz was going to strike him, wasn’t fast enough, and though he outmatched Gaz in muscle, said man still took him down.

“Who are you messaging?!”

They rolled, and Soap tried to simultaneously keep Gaz from punching him, while he kept the phone stretched away from them. Another *ding* rang out, and Gaz glanced up to see a notification that contained your user name, and that you had responded. He assumed twice.

He felt his heart drop out of his ass, his eyes locking with Soap’s.

His next punch struck like a snake, fast and quick to Soap’s throat. Said man’s eyes crossed up, and Gaz took the time to try and grab the phone. He was surprised to find Soap’s grip as tight as ever.

“I’ll hand it over when ye promise not to blow up!”

“I promise to crack your chest!”

They continued to roll on the floor, Soap getting his second-wind after Gaz’s threat. Gaz, driven by what he knew had to be the biggest embarrassment of his life coming his way, and Soap by the need to explain his attempt at a good deed.

Two polished boots came into view and a sharp bark of “Knock it the fuck off!” ended the tussle immediately.

Both men sat up, hair and clothing askew, chests heaving with adrenaline.

“What the hell is going on here?” John Price’s infamous gravel inflection hit the both of them, stiffening their spines pole straight.

Nothing came out though. It wasn’t exactly a thing you wanted to tell your captain. Both assumed he thought social media was the Yahoo homepage anyways.

He looked between them, neither meeting his gaze. “Right. Hand it over then.”

Gaz choked. On what, he couldn’t say, probably his dwindling pride. “Just uh…a little sport Captain.”

Soap glanced between them before his blue eyes settled on Price. “Yeah. What’s it gonna be Cap? Run laps, scrub latrines, we’ll take the worst.”

“Don’t worry about that, that’s a given and then some. The phone MacTavish.”

John Price rarely had to demand anything a second time, and neither Soap nor Gaz wanted to be responsible for making him do it a third. Soap gave him an apologetic side glance as he handed over the phone. Gaz cringed, feeling like a kid in class again, getting busted for swapping gross drawings of teachers.

“One of you, open it.” Price held the phone out between the two of them. Gaz sighed and input the code locking down the device.

Price pulled the phone back, and, much too efficiently for Gaz’s taste, began swiping.

Price’s eyes scanned back and forth, and Gaz had to assume he was reading what he still hadn’t had a chance to.

After a beat, Price looked up in disbelief. “All this over a posh little beauty queen? Do you two want the one-four-one to be synonymous with a joke?”

Gaz would serve the mole-people through infinity if it meant they’d make the ground swallow him up right there. How his day had advanced to this was beyond him.

“Captain-“

Price turned to him, brows raised. “You better be glad she likes you and it wasn’t a total waste, or I’d rent you out to the circus like the clowns you two are.”

Gaz stepped back on one foot, his head snapping in disbelief. “Wait..she wha-“

“So it worked then yeah?!” Soap grinned, a breathy laugh supporting his exclamation before quickly straightening up. “I mean, I knew that it would. That’s why I did it.”

“It worked in spite of you spike strip.” Price tossed the phone to Gaz as Soap ran a hand over his treasured mohawk, pouting at the dig. “For whatever reason, that pretty little thing is interested in him.”

Hearing Price confirm your response was positive didn’t make it any easier to believe than the first time he heard it. He had yet to read whatever his dumbass friend sent your way, but…you liked it?

Gaz brought the phone to his face, and started to open the app so he could finally see for himself.

“I don’t think so.” Price warned with a sharp shake of his head. “That goes in your locker, now, and the two of you meet me out on the track.”

Gaz and Soap both hung their heads.

“Hopefully she comes to her senses by the time you’re able to even hold that thing again, let alone use it.”

“Yes sir.” Gaz locked the phone again, but he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

You must’ve looked at his page, and no matter what crazy thing Soap had sent you, you liked him.

That knowledge carried him through so many laps on the track he vomited up things he swore he hadn’t eaten since he was 5, scrubbing bunks and latrines on his hands and knees until a hole opened in his pants over one knee, and endless up-downs until he and Soap had to literally pull each other up and help each other down.

When he finally collapsed in the locker room later, swearing he’d make it to the shower before he even thought of climbing in bed, he managed to dig his phone out of his locker first.

He was suddenly nervous, you were so gorgeous to him, and if your response was some pitying virtual head pat, he’d jump in front of the next Humvee he saw.

Then again, it was Price who said you liked him, and the man had no reason to or interest in making him feel better about the matter.

He unlocked the phone and quickly opened the app before he lost his nerve.

You: ‘Um excuse me???’

He winced.

You: ‘Oh wait, I checked out your page. You’re from the UK? I didn’t know what you were saying😅. I still kinda don’t, but now I don’t think you’re creepy…you’re actually pretty cute. Thanks for your service.😘🫡’

His heartbeat sped up, and all his aches and bodily gripes were forgotten as he leaned forward on the bench. You had all his attention, and you quite possibly didn’t mind that.

He smirked, proud of his carefully curated page and the body his job helped him maintain. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how silly he was for worrying. Of course you had some interest in him, he could match your energy with ease.

He opened the keyboard ready to respond when all his short-lived bravado fell down around him. What the fuck was he supposed to say back?

—————

Johnny:

It made the two of you somewhat uncomfortable when you thought about how much chance it took for you guys to meet. The thought of not being together felt more foreign than you two ever had to each other. Johnny chose not to dwell on it, accepting how lucky he was often overshadowed the thought.

Your best friend since college was getting married, and you were not only maid of honor, but the wedding planner. Scotland was the homeland of your friend, and you knew on a good day she missed it with her whole heart.

You did your best to incorporate her culture and her friends and family abroad into the ceremony.

This, it turned out, included her brother’s best friend John “Soap” MacTavish, who was also a family friend.

“Is Soap a um…traditional Scottish name?” you’d asked, holding up the name list she’d given you, and thinking your friend was setting you up for a joke.

“He was Johnny for years, but he came back from his dream job, built like a house, and was like ‘They call me Soap now.’.” she deepened her accent and voice to mock what you assumed he sounded like. “Don’t pay it any mind, he’s still our Johnny.”

So John “They call me Soap now” MacTavish was sent an invitation too. What you did not expect was her family to come into the country as quickly as they did. You still had a few weeks of planning, and from the moment they flooded her townhome, you were swept into their familial hurricane.

They couldn’t have been sweeter to you, but they all had input. You were overwhelmed within 30 minutes of being with them, despite your friend reeling them in repeatedly.

Johnny became your touchstone when, based on his energetic introduction, you expected him to be part of the chaos.

As you took notes and suggestions, he was the one who translated when the accents got too thick, or they slipped into Scots.

Someone got a little too aggressive with their suggestion, or talked over you? Johnny was calling out over the din and restoring the closest thing to order that he could.

His helpfulness didn’t end that evening. He became your living official Scotland handbook.

The work you’d dreaded being added on top of what you already had to do found a partial home on his shoulders. Every choice you brought before your friend and her family received loud approval, and Johnny refused your credit every time. Claiming it was your beautiful, quick, and organized mind making the magic happen.

He was at your place bright and early every morning, the two of you forgetting you were virtually strangers who’d been thousands of miles apart the majority of your lives.

In the process of planning and arranging, you showed Johnny your neck of the woods, and the culture in Atlanta. He was fascinated by everything and you’d never been happier, having his complete and utter interest.

He loved your accent, he loved how friendly the people in the mom and pop places you took him to were, he loved how proud you were to be a Georgia girl.

He would always be a proud son of Scotland, so he got it.

“You’re really eatin’ the third one now?!” you laughed watching Johnny go through his third hot chicken sandwich. “Boy, you’re crazy!”

“And well fed too yeah.” he grinned around the huge bite he’d taken. “I’d punch Ghost square in the back of his head if they’d bring a Hattie B’s to Scotland. Of course, I’d have to stand on a stool.”

“Ghost?” you raised an eyebrow, swallowing the fry you’d been chewing.

“Oh yeah, my best mate in the service. He’s like a fuckin’ tree….if trees hit really hard and were just generally terrifying.”

Your eyes widened. “You’re in the service, that’s so cool. Is that the dream job?”

His eyes widened, his chest puffing out in pride at your words. “I am, youngest member to make it into my unit too. Got lucky with a pretty good team.”

“That where you get the name Soap? What is that about by the way?”

He stopped chewing, swallowing hard. Visions of what his nickname referred to came to mind, and he felt like a wall was coming between the two of you. He wasn’t ashamed of his career, or most of the things he’d done to maintain it, but it’d been nice to almost be a civilian again. He hadn’t been just John or Johnny in a long time.

The distance from home, and the crush he wasn’t even going to pretend he didn’t have, helping the fantasy.

“Yeah.”

You senses the tone change, and started to withdraw your curiosity. “We can drop it.”

“Nah, it’s not a bad thing Bonnie, it’s just…” he furrowed his brow in thought, and you resisted the hard urge to touch him. “This is the first leave I’ve had in…maybe ever that I don’t feel a thin wall ‘tween me and my people. It’s just nice for a little bit.”

“Say less.” You pushed your seasoned fries towards him, snorting at his excited expression. “Let’s talk about how much I love it when you call me Bonnie instead.”

He choked, and your small hands found his back, pounding on what felt like a stone wall. “Jesus hen, you can’t just drop somethin’ like that when a man’s mid swallow.”

You brushed your hand over the back of his neck as you retracted it back to your person. Lowering your voice to a soft decibel. “I like when you call me that too.”

——

John Price:

How he’d let himself be talked into a cruise of all things, John would never know.

….

That wasn’t true.

The pretty American office worker flagged him down when he went in for his briefing with the higher ups. She looked distressed, and John could feel that protective nature of his rear up in his chest and stiffen his spine. Before he could even register that he’d spoken, he’d told her whatever his help could provide, it was hers.

She’d flustered at that, tucking some hair behind her ear, and gave a sheepish smile. Her reaction sent a shock of pride from his brain to his cock.

She explained how she and a friend group back home had made plans for a week-long cruise out of Florida. She’d been looking forward to it, missing her home country, and having planned it out very carefully in the group chat. Then, earlier that week, it was brought to the light that one of the girls slept with the husband of another one.

Sides were taken, she was attacked for being out of the country and unaware of the nuanced changes in the group, and then all the girls pulled out, essentially leaving her holding four tickets and the shreds of a perfect vacation.

That was you. A mess who’d been arguing with the travel agency, trying to wrangle all of your friends, and figure out how you wound up wasting several thousand dollars at that point.

John just stood there, like a coat rack with a bucket hat on top. Stiff, and unsure of what to do, say, or even what expression he should school his shocked features into.

He stood there long enough for you to become embarrassed and wave him off and return to your desk.

“I’m so sorry I bothered you. God, you’re a Captain! It’s just, my momma and daddy have been on me from the beginning about how much of waste a trip like this is…‘girl why would you spend that much to float in the ocean with a bunch of strangers, you can borrow our boat and fish in the lake for free’.” you trailed off, realizing you were rambling and shoved your face in your hands.

He thought you were adorable. Most days, he wanted to find the nearest surface and have you on it, only to be embarrassed that at his age, he was thinking like a teenager.

However, right then you were just plain adorable, accent in full swing because you were upset. John knew you were from somewhere in the southern US. Louisiana? Texas?

He approached your desk, hands splayed as he leaned his weight forward. “Love, it’s not a problem. I’m just not sure what I can do about it…aside from hunting down the husband and siccing Laswell on the other girl.”

You gave a full belly laugh. “That could work.”

He grinned, sitting on the edge of the desk, deciding he wanted more of the laugh and soon.

You quieted and started fiddling with a pen that’d been nearby. “But seriously…I would never ask you this if I thought I had other options. It’s just…you’re the person I’ve gotten closest to so far here, and um..I spent so much on those tickets. I even saved from my first paycheck into this last one..”

Your words were coming out fast and close, but John could pick them out. Admitting he was closer to you than anyone in the country warmed him so much, he didn’t care if the next words out of your mouth were asking him to reimburse you. He couldn’t imagine what else you could ask for, but at that point he’d do it.

“Do you mind filling in those spots for me with your team? It’s a perfect amount of tickets, and then I won’t be all alone, and it won’t be a waste, and just ugh! I need you to save my ass Captain Price.” you looked up at him with wide pleading eyes.

For a fraction of second, Price wondered if you knew what you did to him, and that you could use that look to take over the mind of a weapon western governments spent a small fortune to train.

Then your request hit him like a train. You wanted him, and the adult nursery school he’d wrangled into the formation of the 141 to crash your vacation? Your sanity was up for debate.

“At any given time I’m working with half a shared brain cell between two muppets, and their long-suffering murder pet. I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”

“Oh.”

“In fact, their jackets read like the instructions for taking care of a Gremlin. No cruises is pretty high up there.” John tried to humor his way out of the suggestion until he caught sight of your face.

You looked so disappointed, but then your expression shifted to one he couldn’t quite read.

“But you’d be there wouldn’t you?” wide pleading eyes just for him, trained on him.

He flushed, reluctantly stepping around what may have been the flirtatious tactic. “Spending my leave pulling duty as a zoo keeper.”

“Work on your tan then Casper, I’m worried about you. You’d disappear in a snow storm.” You switched up your tactic again, hoping to amuse him into helping.

Price gave a full-belly laugh of his own, the kind he’d rarely even consider letting out at work. “Negging me isn’t going to work love, I’d stick with begging.”

“Damn.” John watched you rise up again, slipping around your desk in heels he couldn’t stare at too long if he wanted to remain professional. “John Price, I swear if you don’t say yes after this, I don’t care where you are on this base I will find you. There, I will salt your coffee and unravel your cigars.”

You inhaled.“Johncanyouandtherestofthe141takethesdamnticketsbeforeIsnap?”

John pretended to think, enjoying watching you literally squirm from the corner of his eye. Despite the jokes, John wasn’t truly an old man, but you did make him feel much younger than he was and he liked it.

He liked the tiny carefree moments he spent with you throughout the day, and he supposed that’d be nice for one sunny week.

“I’ll toss it to the lads, see what they say, and I’ll get back to you.”

“Meaning you’re going to make them do it.”

“Precisely.”

——-

As he stood before his men, he cursed his gentlemanly nature when faced with a woman in need. Well, if he was being entirely honest, he wasn’t being gentlemanly, and maybe this was what he deserved.

It wasn’t chivalry alone, it was pure, unadulterated thirst. He wanted you the way a very hungry man wanted a woman, and he was thinly veiling it behind a tip of the top hat and cane.

Gaz and Soap made him feel like the 141 father the higher ups teased him about being. They reacted as though daddy came home with a promise of DisneyLand.

“The last time you told us to pack, I was picking small snakes out of my pack for over an hour. Gotta say, I want this to be a habit Captain.” Gaz was grinning, phone already in hand as he searched for vacation clothes.

“Yeah. Didn’t expect this when I woke up this mornin’. You’re not tryin’ to infringe on my prank brand right sir?”

Ghost reacted as predicted. Posture stiff, arms crossed, and his eyes doing all the talking. They said a number of ways Price should die, an even greater number of ways he could go fuck himself, and that he’d try whatever he could to get out of it.

“You’re not getting out of it.” Price dashed that dream immediately, but he’d let him fantasize about killing him all cruise long if it helped.

“Why would you want to L.T.?” Soap looked up from where he’d been trying to add items he wanted into Gaz’s cart. “Mud in yer boots, or bikinis and a pint? Pretty hard choice.”

“I don’t wanna see you in a bikini, mate.” Gaz quipped, a grunt leaving him when Soap punched his shoulder.

Price ignored that, and interrupted on the off chance that Ghost would entertain Soap with an answer. “Everyone’s going, It’s one week and you’ve all seen worse. You will be on time, you will behave and represent this unit accordingly, and by god you will all be gracious for the opportunity.”

The last line was meant specifically for Ghost.

Said man smirked behind the mask, tiny details revealed this if you knew what to look for. “Don’t worry sir, I’ll be on my best behavior for your pretty little office bird.”

Price swallowed hard, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling as he counted to ten, and ignored Soap and Gaz’s aggressive inquiries. He was definitely being punished.

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