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thewinchestah · 3 months

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"PREY" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: One-Shot, 18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, begging, overstimulation, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, degradation kink, praise kink,

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: i lost count. it's big.

| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A/N: Helloooooo!!! I write a lot but i never publish it! My lovely friend and also biggest inspiration for this fic @smallershorteranduncut ordered me to post this and i'm nothing but her loyal servent! I hope you guys enjoy the fruits of me writing 10 google docs pages today while i was enraged. Also english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here yadayayfayada! enjoy <;3 (UPDATE!) Part 2 is now up!

Everything about the Radio Demon seemed to be designed to make you desire him, want him. Many times in ways you weren’t even ready to admit to yourself. You haven’t been in Hell long, that’s true. But ever since you manifested here you felt like someone had picked your brain open to make Alastor the perfect bait to lure you into even more sinful, sinister paths.

He had an inexplicable magnetism around him, a piercing presence that made your eyes stuck on him when he worked a room. He had you bewitched and you hadn’t share more than polite pleasantries with each other since you became a guest at the hotel.

Today, again, you were transfixed in his gaze. Sitting in the corner of the hotel lobby, trying to make your embarrassing attraction to him go unnoticed while Alastor waltzed across the room explaining more of his wicked plans to Charlie. God, how you wish he had his wicked way with you.

He seemed more… on edge today. His red eyes glowed a little brighter, his nostrils flared a bit more, static filling the room more often, he was smiling with almost barred teeth, and everyone seemed to be avoiding him. Even Charlie was trying to politely dismiss him, the general feeling of uneasiness inside the hotel just growing larger when Angel stationed himself near your little corner of the room.

“Don’t go near that creepy motherfucker today, he’s about to lose it.” Angel alerted, almost whispering, a pair of his hands making the “crazy sign” near his head

“Isn’t he always creepy and about to lose it?” Husk added, staring at the exchange between the radio demon and Charlie.

“I’m telling you toots, I know that guy definitely isn't normal, but today he is borderline a mass extinction event. I swear, he’s just waiting for someone to give him the excuse” Angel replied, confirming your suspicions. Something was off.

“Uh. Well, about that, I think it’s time we rescue Charlie”

As if on cue Charlie turned to the corner of the room, gesticulating really hard to be taken away from the small commotion her conversation with Alastor was becoming.

“Hey Charlie, do you remember that thing with the hotel’s… personalized stationery you asked me to help you today? Let’s do it!” Said angel gently guiding Charlie away from the Radio Demon.

“Guess that’s my cue Alastor! Greaaaaat chat! As always! Have a nice day!! Byeee!” Charlie’s overly chirpy tone giving away her uneasiness.

Suddenly it felt like all the air was taken out of the room. Alastor’s neck turned into an ungodly angle, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Static grew around the group, almost suffocating. As your vision went blurry from the sheer power that was being evoked, you contemplated if there was another afterlife. Preferably one where you didn’t inherit a death wish from your previous ones.

And as quick as it started, it was over.

Alastor just said a creepy “hm” turned on his hell, and walked away.

It almost felt like it was all in your head, but your friends standing perfectly still and dead silent next to you gave the reality of the situation away: everyone just had a near death-death experience. Maybe it would be a good topic for Charlie’s bonding exercises, who knows with this place.

“I told ya’ll. Mass. Extinction. Event. Stay out the psycho’s way”

Angel’s voice became background noise in your head, your eyes focusing on the spot where Alastor just threatened everybody’s life without saying a word. As the voices dissipated around you and normalcy slowly returned to the hotel, your mind sank deeper and deeper into the mystery that was the Radio Demon.

They were so oblivious, so naive. Thinking he wasn’t listening what they said about him behind his back. Thinking he was unaware of him being the topic of the discussion when he wasn’t looking. He could bathe in the smell of their fear, and he was relishing it.

Alastor stared at the new pretty little thing that arrived at the hotel. Oh how pathetically sweet and innocent she was, thinking she was being subtle about her infatuation with him. Thinking she could hide her interest in him, when she was nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes. Oh, she was just the perfect prey for him, wrapped in this lovely red bow she wore on her hair.

Angel was right, he was just waiting for an excuse, and she just offered him one on a silver platter. And alastor was everything but a coward.

You cursed a little bit louder than you intended when you saw the blood dripping from your finger. “Stop. making. a. spectacle. of. yourself” you mentally screamed. You still could not figure Charlie’s “special stationary stapler” out, so stapling your finger was bound to happen.

Even though it was not much, the silly little cut was stinging like a bitch, and your best efforts to stop the bleeding were futile, considering the mess on the hem of your skirt. Still high on the adrenaline from earlier, your shaking hands searched for something, anything to put on your finger so you could continue your work without anyone noticing. Everyone already had enough for one day, it was fine.

“My dear, did you just hurt yourself?” Alastor’s voice invaded your ears. Oh, fuck. That’s it, he was going to murder you for being so incompetent with the damned stapler.

Turning to face him, you meet his piercing gaze, not sure if you should run and scream for help. “Oh no worries alastor, it’s just a small cut, i can manage!” you give him your most confident smile.

Alastor’s head tilts, eyes burning red as he watches the small droplets of your blood make their way down your index finger.

“Nonsense, I can't have my staff running around with injuries and bloodied clothes. We are in hell, but we are not savages, dear” He seems transfixed by the blood, and you are too scared to move, too scared to anything other than hold the weight of his gaze and hope for the best. Your lizard brain is screaming for you to run, ask for help. Maybe Charlie isn’t too far away, could you make a run for it? Somehow your survival instincts override your brain, maybe all those hours watching true crime back on earth weren’t in vain, and you decide against running. Let him initiate first.

He catches your wrist, trapping it inside his deadly claws. His face, towering over you, comes all the way down to inspect the offending finger. You can feel his breathing on your skin.

Your breathing stops. You swallow an imaginary lump. He’s gonna bite off your fing-

“Would you be a doll and let me take care of it? Blood being unnecessary wasted truly abhors me”

You must have said yes at some point, you don’t really remember, now you are holding the red handkerchief he handed you, answering his request to “please follow him”. Trailing behind the Radio Demon, both of you walk through the large corridors.

This might be the time to scream for help. the voices inside your head warn. With every step of his feet you hear his microphone going tsk tsk tsk where it touches the ground. You are walking the death row, the paintings on the wall chanting “dead woman walking, dead woman walking”.

“Keep pressuring the wound darling, we are almost there” he gently commands you, too gently… it feels almost… soft, pleading. The way Alastor goes from 0 to 100 is giving you whiplash.

He slows down, reaching for the door knob of an unknown room. Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to enter first.

the door locks behind you.

if i’m being murdered, at least i’m being murdered with class.

“Don’t be silly, I’m not going to murder you” Alastor says, almost singing the last part of the sentence.

“Oh fuck, i said that out loud, didn’t I?” you blurted out

“Yes you did. And yes, I also noticed your lovely doe eyes on me every time i’m in the room”

Your brain short circuits. That 's it. You are dead. He’s not going to murder you (apparently), but you are going to die of embarrassment. It will feel like murder. He knows, fuck, he knows. He knows about your crush (?) and he’s going to drag you for it. You are going to be so dragged the angels will pity you and bring you to heaven. A creative way to be redeemed, Charlie should know about this. Your thoughts are going downhill as a big snowball, there are too many of them and you can’t follow a single coherent train of thought. You don’t even want to know how you look in the middle of this. You must look pathetic, truly like a doe caught in headlights. And then you hear your name once.

Twice now, in a sing-song voice.

Your eyes fly open towards the sound, breaking from the anxiety induced spell as you realize the Radio Demon had just called you, by name. He knows your name???

“Ah hahah! You’re back.” Alastor says, as he starts to circle you like a predator. Your eyes, as always, follow his across the room.

“I don’t like to repeat myself, little doe. You heard what I asked?”

Again, you don’t really remember answering, your brain is going AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA as you watch him pace around you, eyes burning red, demanding your attention. Teeth slightly barred, voice on the edge of something. Was that “X” on his forehead always there?

“I asked if you know what you are doing to me” static fills the room as he finishes speaking. Alastor’s clawed hand trapped your bloodied finger dangerously close to his grinning lips. Your brain is doing flips as he stares deep into your soul, and when your thoughts land you make the connection. Alastor is horny. Alastor is horny for y-

“You see, little doe, I know what your eyes hide when you desperately lower them everytime I come near you. I know how you feel you can hide in plain sight if you stay quiet enough. But I can taste it. Your fear. Your lust. In the air. In your blood.” He has a white knuckled grip on your wrist now, same with his microphone. You lower your guard, eyes going from startled to lustful. “Good thing right now there’s nothing more i want in this godforsaken pit than your lust, pet”

You want this. There’s no point in lying to yourself. You want Alastor to fuck you. You’ve fantasized about the Radio Demon taking you more times than you can count. More times than you would like to admit to yourself. This feels deeply wrong, but you crave it.

Fuck it, you are in hell, there’s nothing to lose. Alastor is still watching you, impatiently. For the first time today you realize you actually forgot to say something. He’s waiting. Alastor is waiting for your permission.

“Take my breath away, Alastor”

Your permission might have been really loud, it felt like you were screaming the words. But you can’t be sure, it might have been a whisper. Either way he didn’t miss it, what happens next is fast, angry and delicious.

Alastor pounces and licks the blood on your finger, something clicks inside him as he tastes the red liquid, because he lets go of his microphone instantly and his arms grab your waist aggressively, so forceful you wouldn’t be surprised if it breaks skin. You shouldn’t be so turned on by this, by the sight of a psychopathic demon drinking your blood. But you are, and there’s no going back.

“Strip” he orders. You want to say to him that you can’t take your clothes off your person with him holding you like this. He must have realized the conundrum: if he wants you naked, he has to let go of you. To Alastor, letting go of you right now is simply unthinkable. So he doesn’t: you feel his claws cut the bodice of your dress open, sending the most delicious shivers down your spine. Another claw rips your skirt apart, and you are almost fully naked in the Radio Demon’s arms, pressing your body hard on his still impeccable dressed body.

It’s humiliating, it’s dangerous, it’s hot, it is delicious, to be at his complete mercy, just how you always wanted.

Somehow both of you made your way close to the enormous bed in the middle of the room. Alastor cornered you, so the only way you could escape was walking backwards towards the bed. The brilliant bastard.

You feel your calves hitting the edge of the bed, and Alastor breaks away.

Pity, your mind complains. Get him back to touching you again. right. now,.

“Now now, we should establish some rules for this, pet” Alastor’s hands might have stopped touching you, but his piercing eyes never did. He knocks you on top of the bed, you lay there sprawled open just for him. His hands move up to do a quick work of his bowtie

“Rule one: you will take what I give you. Nothing more, nothing less. What I give you is enough. You might feel like you can’t take anymore, but you can. You will take it, I will make you take it” He takes his tailcoat off, his frame towering over you, even with your body completely flat on the mattress and his in front of it.

“ Rule two: every ounce of your pleasure is mine and mine only. Mine to give, mine to take. And you will give me everything. I want to hear every sound, to feel every touch, to know every nasty thought that runs inside that pretty little head of yours. You will not suppress anything, I wanna hear your moans when you make a mess of yourself as I take everything I desire from your delicious body. I will relish on your desperate screams of pleasure.Nothing outside these walls matter” He is climbing on the bed now. You hold the weight of his gaze, underneath your demonic lover’s eyes your skin burns.

“Rule three: don’t you dare cum without my permission, good girls earn their orgasms and you will be a good girl. Or else…” static starts to pick up around the room, you are seeing the blackest black that ever was, his shadows enveloping you both. Nothing outside these walls matter. “Understood?” Alastor says as he pins your hands on top of your head, against the fancy headboard. His hand cups one of your boobs and he is worrying your nipple between his sharp claws. finally finally, your mind sings. You feel a surge of magic binding your wrists in green chains, attached to the headboard. It’s overbearing, it’s ridiculous. His magic feels like him, another part of him for you to take.

He pinches your nipple particularly hard and you moan softly, pleasure and pain consuming any other sensation. You forgot to answer him, you realize. You’ve barely started and you are already being bad. “yes alastor, yes.. but please don’t stop” the soft whimper leaves your lips.

“lovely.” he replies, and with that his mouth is on your nipple, sucking it while he administers his wicked ministrations to your other one. His sharp teeth prickling on the edge of breaking skin, and you already feel like you won’t be able to take all of him.

His hand trails down to aggressively grip your thighs, his tongue sucking the neglected nipple his fingers left. Your moans become frequent and messy, if he’s already making you go insane with the beginnings of foreplay... You might pass out and die when he starts fucking you, but you don’t care. Let him show you the true meaning of la petite mort.

“My my, what do we have here” his hand leaves your thigh to trace the wetness of your panties. A clawed finger rips it apart, the last barrier between you and total consumption by the Radio Demon. He takes the finger between your glistening lips, not entering, just teasing

“I don’t think i will get enough of this pretty little body of ours anytime soon, pet” he says as his finger finally enters your sex, He moves his digit with an expertise you didn’t really know he had in him, making you whimper his name, ooohs and aaaahs, your hips start threshing from the pleasure. If you continue at this pace, you will be begging for permission to cum too soon. Pathetic. you think to yourself. Because you know how hard this building orgasm will be,you don’t know if he will grant you more than one orgasm. And will you murder you yourself if you don’t feel his cock inside you tonight. You take a deep breath in between your moans and will your hips to stay in place, your nerves to calm down.

Alastor adds another finger, and it takes all of your willpower not to become a puddle of wetness right there. You bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

“you do make a mess of yourself, don’t you? you just can’t help it” he says as he curls his digits inside you. Your hips start thrashing hard again, and you sink them deeper into the bed. The chains on your wrists shake with the effort to hold back. As if alastor wasn’t going to notice. “no no no what did I say?” he snaps angrily, he’s eyes flash red at you and he takes his fingers out with a wet “pop”, you feel like crying at the emptiness. “please please alastor, don’t stop” you plead. His hands leave you entirely, you are left with just his piercing gaze, the one that makes your skin burn. “did I say you could hold back? don’t pretend like you aren’t a common whore for me, that you love how pathetic it feels that you are creaming yourself and we haven’t even really started”

his condescending tone just makes everything even more sublime. It’s so wrong how good being told you are nothing more than a common whore by the Radio Demon feels. But you never felt anything close to this. “please Alastor” you beg again, nothing but a small whisper

“I would love to taste this pussy, so red already for me, but since you broke one of the rules… i’m afraid I will make you understand that are nothing but my pretty cockslut the hard way”

Punishment? His punishment sounds ever better than his praise right now. You moan at his voice. He laughs.

His knees cage you, as he lifts his upper body from you and starts undoing his zipper. He is taking his cock out. Oh fuck, he’s gonna fuck you without anymore foreplay. And he’s not going to be gentle about it either. You shiver.

Alastor pumps himself a few times, his cock is big, thick, and an angry red shade, flush red like that, because of you, just for you. He’s gonna make you pay: pay for holding back from him, pay for making him feel like an animal and almost losing his hard constructed control.

The look on his face says it all, he’s gonna take it out on you and you can’t do nothing about it.

You don’t have much time to think about the repercussions, in one swift motion his tip is already inside you, stretching you deliciously. Your brain short circuits again, the feeling of his cock inside you is everything you imagine and more. Depraved, heavenly, delicious. You struggle in your binds again, you want desperately to touch him. To feel his skin beneath your finger, to scratch him, mark him. But oh well, he’s the Radio Demon, he’s the one in charge and you are his prey.

Alastor starts to slowly enter you, he’s trying his best to hold back. He knows if he does this too fast it will hurt in a way he doesn’t want you to feel. And by the look on his face going slow is as torturous for him as it is for you. tantalizing inch after tantalizing inch he spreads the walls of your cunt apart. You understand now why this is punishment, it hurts in a perfect way, it hurts even more that he is doing it slowly, and not just thrusting like you imagined he would, if he had more time to work on you.

You become a mess of moans and incoherent words. His cock is halfway inside you now “HoLY FUCK ALASTOR” you scream. It’s already too much.

“There’s nothing holy about this my dear. I’m going to breed you. I’m going to break you” and with that he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Now you truly scream in pleasure and pain “you won’t be able to walk straight for days, you will feel me in every step, and you will thank me for it”. His thrusts pick up at breakneck speed, the bed shakes from the sheer force that Alastor is using to fuck you. Every snap of his hips you moan more and more.

The sound you make when he takes everything out and enters you at once is so obscene that it would make Angel Dust blush. He’s growling now, his antlers growing bigger as he fucks you like his life dependend on it. As he fucks you like he hates you.

Alastor pushes your hips higher, and suddenly he’s even deeper. His other hand holding your waist in a bruising grip. The strain on your pinned hands will bruise too. His lips graze the skin of your collarbone, he looks so feral you are scared he will maul, the thrill of not knowing adding to your fucked up sense of pleasure.

He seems to pick up on your fear, and bites down on your collarbone, hauling as he tastes your blood and buries himself inside you again and again. Moans turned into screams, and the only thing coming out of your lips is his name, spoken like a profane prayer. You would give everything you have to Alastor, and he doesn’t even have to ask.

Your orgasm has been building for a while now, the coil on your belly becoming tighter and tighter, like a supernova about to be born. “Alastor, please please let me come” you beg. His unfocused eyes stare down at you, as he takes a moment from feasting on your sweet blood to address your desperate, sweet pleas.

“Don’t. You. Dare” he says, punctuating every word with a sharp thrust. As much as you want, you are not sure you will be able to hold any longer. “I beg you alastor, please let me cum, i will let you do anything you want. but i need it so badly, please please”

You sounded so desperate when you begged, so beautiful.

“Don’t strike deals you don’t know you can fulfill, pet” his voice is low, a warning. You ignore it. “I promise Alastor, anything”. Alastor laughs.

his finger touches your clit as he finally allows your sweet relief “you may come now, sweet doe” and that’s it, you are off, you are dead. You see stars, you see the entire universe as you scream out and climax. Walls tightening around Alastor’s monster cock, eyes rowling, his name a scream on your lips. You ride out your wave slowly, but Alastor is not slowing down.

Instead he is picking up his pace, maneuvering your hips even higher, your chains are stretched to the limit. You can feel them start piercing your skin. Thrust after thrust the sensation becomes too much, you are too overstimulated to go through all of this again.

“i can’t take it, i can’t take it!”

Alastor doesn’t care. “I told you not to make deals if you can’t hold them, didn’t I?” You don’t answer, you can’t. you can’t to anything but let him fuck you as hard and as much as he want. “but you are such a little cockslut for me that you can’t help it. What a shame”

He is gripping your hips so hard it breaks skin, tiny trails of blood on his claws. “you will take it. You better take it, or I will make you take it” static picks up as he threatens the last words. You know you are spent, you know how bad it hurts, you know how bad his words sound, but the lines between pleasure and pain are so blurred that you can’t think coherently. Even this pain of being broken feels good.

Still, tears fill your eyes and you start crying, from pleasure, from pain, you don’t know anymore. What Alastor is doing to you has no precedent. No one can do this like he does. He knows torture too well, and he is tortouring you in the most decadent, delicious ways possible. “alastor i want to, i want to so bad but i just can’t” the tears sting your eyes and stain your face.

Alastor sees it. He slows down just a bit, his voice softening “oh my dear doe, but you can. Just this once more, just for me. One more” his voice is so maddening soft it acts like fuel to your tears. Your skin tingles and you feel giddy, somehow your throbbing hot, wet cunt seems to find the right amount of relief, and you can feel only pleasure again.

Alastor continues to fuck you, your moans returning to normal, you are being so loud now, making a mess of yourself, just like he said, and a big hand comes to cover your mouth.

“Oh we can’t have you being this loud can we?” his voice goes to that delicious mocking tone. His thrusts are slower now, but as deep as they can go. “what would you friends say if they found out that you moan like a common whore for their feared radio demon.. hum,.?”

You start to feel the pit of your belly tightening again, and alastor doesn’t stop humiliating you. The degradation feels just the right amount of perfection. You are exactly what he says you are. A common whore when it comes to him. “weren’t you ashamed just a few moments ago? trying to hold back the sinful sounds you make when I touch you? I already gave you one orgasm. I’ve been way too generous for my liking. I should stop right now since you feel so conscious about this” Alator’s breathing is becoming erratic, his thrusts sharp, hard, and out of the breakneck rhythm he was torturing you before.You start moaning even louder through his hand. “ungrateful little pet. You are just so greedy for one more orgasm, you don’t even care that everyone downstairs can hear you hm??”

You can’t think straight. you feel on the edge of glory, this orgasm threatening to be harder than your previous one, as if it is possible. “alastor i’m so sorry, i know i don’t deserve it” you muffle behind his hand, he hears you speaking and takes if off “but can you please let me cum? just this once? just for you. Please Al” his thrusts are truly erratic now. He’s close too, even though you are too wrapped up on your own sensations to notice

“please” you beg, nothing more than a whisper. Already making peace with the fact that you are going to come without his permission and he will probably never fuck you again

“Good girl, you can come now”

instantly as you are granted his permissions your world explodes, blinding hot pleasure takes over your body, the waves of pleasure making your heart beat so fast you feel like it’s going to stop. The petit mort is coming, and her sweet embrace envelops you, specially now that you feel Alastor’s cock twitching and spilling his seed inside you. You scream his name. Maybe you hear him screaming yours too. You don’t know anymore, your nerves are singing from pleasure unheard of back when you were alive. Pleasure so great it could only be found in hell. The most heavily, depraved way of torture.

You come down from your high, still dizzy, your body going limp. You are not dead, but you are positively spent. You give in into the warm and fuzziness of sleep.

The last thing you remember is the softness of a blanket, a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Oh my dear, I knew you had one more on you,spending yourself this way just for me! What a truly precious thing, doe”

You might be dreaming now.

You weren’t dreaming. Alastor praises you, knowing his words will be the last thing you hear before a night of peaceful, deep dreamless slumber. He makes sure to put the softest velvet blanket he owns on your body, not to make the damage you gladly allowed your body to take for him an inconvenience. Tomorrow you will wake up to fancy letters of praise and sweet chocolate covered strawberries. And no one will know how Alastor found the perfect doe to breed as he pleases during the height of his mating season.

#hello guys im insane can you tell?#eu escrevi isso aqui na força do odio puro e genuino de quem ta sendo xingada no twitter tem dias #alastor #alstor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor fanfic #the radio demon #the radio demon x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin fic #autora também está no cio #serio aquela msuica sento no bico da glock rebolo e tiro o short e vem vamo fudeee o gabriel tirou o meu cabaço e me botou de quatro nao #sai da minha cabeça #aquariano nato também não #QUEBRA A CAMA DESSAS PUTAAAAAAAAA #baixaria

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paintpanic · 3 months

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#ta-da! super high-effort comic for you #what do you think?#...im aware i fucked up the back of his head in panel 5. by the time i realized i couldn't be bothered to fix it.#oh well! i'm still really happy with everything else. the storyboarding; the line art; the colors; the BACKGROUNDS; my lettering.#some of my best work!#kirby series #magolor #kirby #kirby's return to dream land #krtdl #panic's favorites

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ashoss · 19 days

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Nightwing deing a handstand cause you said you want stuf to draw

nightwing handstand coming right up!

#ta da!#dick grayson #nightwing #batman #dc fanart #dc comics #ash's doodlings

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risestarkissomega · 2 months

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...uh, who is he talking to?

[Next] It is I: Part 2

[Master Post]

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sweetbuckybarnes · 4 months

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Who is This? - How They Met

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Y/N talks about how she met James Barnes and how she found herself in the modern world. Follow on from this fic.

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky nearly demanded, keeping his arms wrapped around his companion.

Sam raised his eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question, Barnes?" Sam looked at the young woman in Bucky's arms. "Who is this?"

Bucky looked down at her, Sam watched as a smile grew on his face. "This is Y/N. Y/N Barnes. My wife."

"I'm sorry, what was that? Wife? You two are married?" Sam asked, looking between Bucky and Y/N.

"Indeed we are, aren't we darling?"

Y/N looked at Bucky first with a smile then with dead eyes. "I'm still pissed with you," Sam couldn't place her accent. It was a strange combination of Brooklyn, southern and English.

"Babydoll," Bucky sighed, as his wife got up from the couch and walked to the kitchenette.

"No. Don't you babydoll, me. I had two officers with a telegram in their hand as they flat out told me you had fallen off a train in the Alps of all places, whilst you were on some stupid mission with Steve, they never went looking for you, they simply declared you were missing and you were most likely dead."

Bucky's face falls, realising how much she had missed him after he fell off the train. After he had escaped to Bucharest, his memories came back in flashes - her face had always been there front and centre. He never had the time to sit Steve down and ask him about the gorgeous girl in his memories. It had taken another trip to the Smithsonian Institution - and that's when he saw her further into the exhibition, her arms in both Bucky and Steve's as she looked up at him in awe. Bucky and Y/N were married on January 15, 1941 - four weeks after Bucky signed up.

He gets up also, leaving the blanket which once covered them in a ball on the couch. "Sweetheart," he said softly.

"They told me on our fucking anniversary as well!" The tears couldn't be held back as they started rolling down her cheeks.

"It may be late, but happy anniversary," Bucky says, which gets a watery sob out of Y/N - who returns the sentiment.

Sam walks around the couple and into the kitchenette. "How long have you two now been married then?"

They looked at each other. "If you don't count the time we were separated, three years."

"And if you do?" Sharon asks.

"Eighty-three."

"Seems like I owe you a lot of anniversary presents. And birthdays, and Christmas..." Bucky trails off. "Seeming like I'll always be in debt to you, doll."

She shakes her head, "I have you here now. That's the only present I need."

"So how did you two meet?" Sam asks.

August 3rd, 1922

It was the first day at Brooklyn Heights Elementary School. Winnifred Barnes held her eldest son's hand as she took him to school.

Little James Barnes was terrified, it would be his first full day away from his ma, he didn't know anyone and he had a strong feeling like he wanted to cry (his father George had firmly told him men don't cry).

The mother and son duo were stood in front of a little peg, which had his name stuck to it, he was in between someone called Steve and someone called Y/N (the little girl had already taken her coat off - which her mother was hanging up for her, as she dug through her backpack on the floor).

"Y/N what have I told you about sitting on the floor like that?" Y/N's mother said, cupping her hands underneath her armpits and sat her on her knees.

"I can't find my crayons, mama!" Y/N exclaimed, looking up at her mama.

James looked down into his backpack and saw the small pack of crayons his father had brought back home one night. "We can share mine," he tells the little girl on the floor, sitting down next to her.

She looked at him with a big smile. Even at four years old, he couldn't help but think she was the prettiest girl in the world.

"That's how you got your girl? Crayons when you were four?" Sam asks.

"No, I had always known she was beautiful, but it took me a long time to persuade her for a date."

Y/N looked at her husband with a singular raised eyebrow. "You went from girl to girl with no consideration of their feelings. I didn't want to be put on the same list."

"Not a chance, since we locked eyes on that cold floor in elementary school, I have always been yours."

January 15, 1940

"Please, doll," Bucky nearly begged, as Y/N made her way around the counter at the local diner where she currently works. "Just one date."

"No, James, you can't ask me just because you don't have a date for the night."

Bucky sighed, he loved how she was the only one (apart from his ma when he annoyed her) who still called him James. "But, doll."

"And what have I told you about calling me doll?"

"I could take you to Coney Island," which was shut down saying that was his and Steve's 'place to hang out without her'. Bucky denied it, saying that it wasn't right that he and Steve spent time together without her. "What about the movies?"

"The three of us have already seen everything at the movies right now."

Bucky looked at the ceiling, as he fiddled with his ice cream float. "You don't want to go to Coney Island, we've seen everything at the movies and you don't want to go to a diner..."

He heard someone make a passing comment that the river in that park upstate had frozen over and was perfect for. "Ice skating! That's it, I'll take you ice skating!"

Y/N looked over at him, "Will it shut you up?" He nodded. "Fine, you can take me ice skating."

Bucky let out a loud cheer. "I promise you, you won't regret it, babydoll."

Bucky leaned over pressed a kiss to her cheek and ran out of the diner - he missed Y/N rubbing her cheek with a growing smile on her face.

"You were smitten with me?"

"Since day one, babydoll."

They shared a kiss when the door was pushed open by someone who looked like he had a homemade costume Steve used to wear. "What the hell?"

"Alright, that's it. Your time is up. Tell me where Zemo is," someone came storming in, dressed like Steve, shield in one hand as he pointed at the other people in the room. Y/N looked from Bucky to Sam to Sharon and then back to Bucky.

"We know you're hiding him," his sidekick added, crossing his arms.

The Captain America wannabe ordered them to turn over Zemo, which Y/N countered with a comment about the Captain America wannabe running his mouth.

"How did I miss you?" He flirts.

Y/N raised her eyebrow at him, then looked up at Bucky (who whispered into her ear that they were trying to get the shield back). "Give me a second," She puts on a look on her face and makes her way over to the Captain America wannabe. "Oh my God, is that the shield?" She could see him preen at her words. "Can I have a look at it?"

Stupidly, he hands her the shield, Y/N looks it over, and then up at him. "Thanks," and makes her way back to Bucky.

"What are you doing with my shield?"

"I think you mean, my shield. Considering that it technically belongs to me."

Captain America wannabe looked at her confused, what the hell was she talking about? "Who even are you?"

"Who am I? He doesn't know, James!" Y/N looked up at Bucky. "He doesn't know!" The couple laughed. "I'm Y/N, Steve's half-sister, and this muppet's wife."

"Wait, so how did you end up 80 years in the future?" Sam asks as the trio settles in for the night.

"Howard wanted to make another Super Soldier after the war after Steve had 'died'," she puts quotes around died, then turns her head to look at Bucky. "Yes, I know what happened to Howard and Maria," Bucky's face fell - she knew what he had done as the Winter Soldier(the war crimes he had committed had been plastered all over the news during his trial).

Sam looked between Bucky and Y/N as he asked. "What happened? I presume you volunteered."

She nods her head. "I did. But, something went wrong. They gave me the serum, and I remember collapsing to the floor and the next thing I knew I was waking up in the year 2019, Steve's face over the top of mine, tears in his eyes, saying he was so happy to see me."

"Steve knew you were alive?" Bucky asked, looking at his wife in surprise. There were about two weeks between the Battle of Earth and Steve went back to the past.

"I don't remember much from when I woke up, because I was falling in and out of sleep, for a long time." She says, looking up at the ceiling.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #reader #bucky fic #bucky x female reader #follow up to previous bucky fic #People were asking for it #So ta da!

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tangledinink · 10 months

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Right. So. To recap... Donnie and Leo live as the Gemini with Big Mama. Raphael lives as Oblation amongst the Foot Clan. Michelangelo was raised by Draxum... So Splinter didn't keep any kids in the divorce? :(

( incorrect! this man is a dad whether he likes it or not-- and it doesn't even have to be his kid. )

enter -> hamato yoshi, former champion, current hermit.

after yoshi was mutated, his physical appearance altered so drastically that he could never dream of returning to his previous life on the surface, he was understandably devastated. even worse, into the world came a gaggle of little turtle children bearing his DNA...! only to be immediately torn from his grasp, lost and presumably killed in the lab explosion. yoshi isolated himself in the sewers after this, not only because he had no desire to seek out the company of others... but because he had no where else to go.

he lived as a recluse and hermit for several years in the sewers until, through some ungodly twist of fate and he presumes some amount of child negligence, he investigated an odd noise in the tunnels only to find a small, sobbing girl in his sewers. he had kept himself from the prying eyes of others for this long, and he considered leaving her and trusting that someone would find her eventually, but...

enter -> april o'neil, tamer of grouchy rats

she was a child. he couldn't just leave her, could he? banking on the fact that she couldn't be more than five or six, and therefore any tales she recounted of a rat man in the sewers would hopefully be dismissed as a 'wild imagination,' he revealed himself to her, calmed her down, and helped her out of the sewers so she could find her parents again. april was equal parts thrilled and fascinated by her rescuer-- this was easily the most interesting person she had ever met in her life. and she lived in new york city!

and after that, well...

yoshi just couldn't quite seem to get rid of her? she just kept showing back up, no matter how many times he brought her back home. he did everything he could to discourage her, refusing to entertain her questions or even give his name, (that's okay, she picked out her own name for him-- splinter.) but this did little to dissuade april o'neil. she's grown up frequently visiting the rat down in the sewers, despite his protests. he's still the most interesting person she knows-- and besides, she can't leave that pitiful old rat alone at this point! he loves her and she knows it, he just won't admit it. and she knows he's still got fascinating secrets for her to tease out of him. there's definitely more to his story... and she'll uncover it eventually. after all... she's april o'neil!

#gemini au #ta da! the last of the hamatos for this au #or are they...?#eyes emoji #rottmnt #rise of teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2018 #rise splinter #rise april #rottmnt splinter #rottmnt april #rottmnt seperated au #rottmnt sep au #rottmnt separated au #rottmnt au #tmnt #fidgetwing #rottmnt fanart

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jamieenthusiast · 1 month

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I have been casually reading @jazzstarrlight's My immortal comic for awhile now anD THE NEWEST UPDATE CAUGHT MY ATTENTI ON 1st piece of md art thats made me actually think abt Uzi dying </3 so i did a redraw/fanart of my fav gut-wrenching panels! :D

og art below!!

#my art #murder drones #murder drones fanart #serial designation n #n fanart #n murder drones #uzi doorman #uzi fanart #uzi murder drones #idk if I can use the au tag #erm #md:mi au fanart #ta da :D #lexi fanart #just in case I do more in the f uture :3

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maureen2musings · 2 years

Photo

...

christine.c.w

#bats #curators on tumblr #ta-da

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nainwoo · 8 months

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EXO LADDER 4 | EP 5 fairy!Kyungsoo

#exo #d.o.#kyungsoo #exosnet #exoedit #myedit #exo ladder 4 #chen #chensoo #i made this for a very specific audience aka me #it's jd going ta da #my heart grew 3 sizes #it was too cute

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xiaoluclair · 3 months

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🌹

#edit: mv1.cl16 #lestappen #x: edit #charles leclerc #max verstappen #ta. da?#what am i dodeoieoiaheoifhaefkjdfadsds #UGH #amyway

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youremyonepiece · 5 months

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anxious mornings

sanji x gn!reader (no pronouns used), sanji's pov

anxiety has a tendency to spread, as sanji discovers unexpectedly early one morning.

warnings: mentions and descriptions of anxiety and related symptoms; unhealthy eating habits; small implied mention of disordered eating; slight angst, comfort, light fluff (please lmk if there are any i should add!)

word count: 3k

sanji runs a hand through his damp hair as he steps out of the washroom, unsuccessful in warding off a large yawn. though the early waking hour is by no means unusual for him, he is but human, he thinks to himself with a slight chuckle; some mornings are just going to be easier than others.

shaking his head slightly as though attempting to scatter his thoughts around him like the water droplets that fly from his hair, sanji starts to make his way towards the kitchen. he needs to start prepping for the many meals of the day if he hopes to stand a chance at keeping up with luffy's incessant hunger. his fingers itch for a cigarette, anything to help stave off the remaining sleepiness in his system, but he resists the urge. while he knows he has little to no hopes of quitting, nor does he really want to, smoking this early in the morning feels like crossing a line-- not before breakfast.

it's as he's walking across the planks of the deck in the 4 AM darkness that he hears a sound he would recognize anywhere: the sound of a stomach growling.

sanji's eyebrows furrow as his thoughts about the day's menu are entirely forgotten. his head snaps towards the cluster of barrels from where the sound came-- a stowaway? he wonders briefly, but they've been out at sea for days now. there's no way someone could have gone unnoticed for that long. the growl is followed by a vaguely familiar soft sigh, causing sanji’s brows to furrow further.

he's at the barrels in a few long strides and can't stop his eyebrows from shooting upwards when he peers over their tops to find-- you. you're sitting on the deck with your back leaning against the barrel in front of him, eyes unfocused as they gaze across the distant horizon.

your name escapes his lips in confusion before he has completely processed your presence. you jolt slightly in surprise, clearly not expecting to have any company, before tilting your head upwards to peer at him.

"sanji?" you ask in your voice that he never fails to swoon at. a pause, and then, "is it that time already?"

sanji can't help but smile at your question. you truly are so sweet, so adorable-- he relishes the sight of your wide eyes, your slightly parted plush lips, your mussed hair. you're still in your pajamas, which isn't unusual in and of itself (you tended to get ready for the day after eating breakfast with the rest of the crew) but something about seeing you like this, alone in the early hour, feels more intimate than the two of you had been before. which, granted, was not at all, but that's only all the more reason he feels grateful to be here with you now.

he makes his way around the barrels languidly before leaning against the merry's railing, facing you with a warm expression. "indeed it is, sweetness. good morning."

he watches as a small smile forms on your lips. “good morning," you say, and sanji struggles to keep his thoughts from spiraling into bliss.

“you’re up early,” he comments casually with a friendly smirk, though a concerned quirk of his eyebrow gives him away. “to what do i owe the fine pleasure of your enchanting presence, my dear?”

the corners of your mouth turn upwards at his question, but he notices the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. "just couldn't sleep, i guess," you respond with a shrug, breaking eye contact to stare back out at the dim horizon.

it’s clear you aren't being completely honest, but sanji doesn’t want to push you to share if you don't want to. after all, it isn't like you guys are particularly close or anything. actually, he isn't sure if you could be considered "close" to anyone in the crew, with the exception of maybe luffy.

it isn’t that you didn’t trust them, not exactly-- despite the brevity of your time with the straw hats thus far, you’ve been through enough harrowing experiences together to know that you’ve got each other’s backs. but trusting someone with your life is one thing, especially when it’s already been proven in battle, and trusting them with your feelings is entirely another. it just hasn't been long enough yet; you’re still getting to know them.

at least, that's what he hopes it is, anyway. with the way his eyes seem to cling to you like flies to fruit, he isn't sure what he'll do if the truth is actually that you disliked him.

"anything i can help with?" he offers, trying to keep his voice nonchalant. he wants to help, but he also doesn't want to impose if you don't want him around.

to his relief, you meet his eyes again and smile. "that's kind of you, but no." you don’t say anything for a moment, holding his gaze with unreadable eyes and suddenly sanji feels as though he is gazing upon anubis instead, his heart being weighed on your scale to determine his worth. after a couple of seconds that span eternity, you say, “honestly, i’m just feeling a bit... not great.”

“not great?”

you break eye contact with him to look down at your stomach, silent for a moment again. “just anxious,” you finally sigh, your hands moving to rest at a spot right below your rib cage. “i feel it right here. it feels like... like pressure is building up, but if i press down on it then it's like i can get it to release," you demonstrate, causing a growl to emanate from your torso as though you had simply pushed air out of a bag. you exhale with slight relief again, hands still firm against yourself, before looking back up at him with an abashed smile. "i think my anxiety gave me gas," you half-joke.

sanji forces himself to ignore his ecstasy-- you’re opening up to him! he had just been thinking about it, too! you trust him!-- and to focus on your words instead. it gets easier as you continue, his frown deepening at the sound of your stomach growling again as he remembers what drew him to you a few minutes earlier.

he pulls out a cigarette with the slightest tremble in his hands-- breakfast be damned. you had just unwittingly reminded him of the fact that he’s only human for the second time this day already; some things are harder to deal with than others.

he takes a long inhale of his cigarette, letting the smoke permeate through his system and dull his nerves before slowly exhaling it in a thin wisp. "sweetness," he starts when he finally feels grounded again, eyes full of concern as they meet yours, "i don't think that's anxiety."

you seemingly can't stop yourself from releasing a short, incredulous laugh, lips curved in a smile but eyebrows furrowed and eyes guarded. "what?"

"at least, i don't think that it’s only anxiety." he holds your gaze steadily despite your spike of wariness. when he speaks again, his voice is sincere. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to say you didn't know what you were feeling. it's just--" he pulls away from the railing to crouch in front of you, faces now at the same level. the cigarette between his fingers creates a soft haze in the air between you. "when was the last time you ate?"

sanji feels the guilt spread through him again and attempts to fight it off by taking another long drag of his cigarette. he turns away from you to puff out the smoke, lost in thought.

now that he's thinking about it, you didn't show up to dinner yesterday. or lunch. your absence hadn't been odd; in the not-quite-two weeks you had been aboard, you had eaten with the rest of the crew a whopping total of four times. instead, sanji had noticed you opted to grab your dish and eat in the open air of the deck, taking shelter under nami’s tangerine trees if the weather wasn't accommodating. but he can't even remember you stopping by to make a plate for yourself yesterday. and thanks to luffy, he hadn't noticed any discrepancies in leftover food (that is to say, there was none as usual).

you had been there at breakfast, but he can't recall you grabbing anything except a mug of coffee. how could he have failed to notice? when was the last time he had seen you eat in front of him? it's been maybe two days since, he thinks, hating that he isn't certain. this had happened under his watch. and that too, with you. the person he’s trying to get closer to, to befriend and become a trusted confidant of at the very least, and at the very best... well, he finds you very attractive. but he would never cross that line unless he was wholly certain you wanted to, too.

you're silent as well, seemingly thinking back to find the answer to his question. he watches color creep up your cheeks as something dawns on you, realization and embarrassment fighting for dominance over your features. "i ate last night. at like, ten," you finally respond in a meek voice, looking everywhere but his face.

he can’t stop himself from glancing towards the kitchen. “what'd you eat?” he wonders.

you remain quiet for a moment before sighing again. "you're right. i'm hungry. i... i hadn't realized."

he narrows his eyes at you without malice, seeing through your attempts to escape answering him. “what did you eat?" he asks again, his voice’s volume softening to match yours.

you wring your hands, still refusing to look his way. "a couple of almonds," you say eventually, sounding chastised.

"and?" he prompts.

you don't respond.

"okay," sanji says, feeling his hands tremble again as he takes in your words. "okay," he repeats, "what about before that?"

"um, i think right after you cleaned up for lunch? i stole a slice of cheese, the one with the peppers in it." he can see you’re struggling to keep your expression neutral, but he isn't sure which emotions you’re fighting off.

he does know which ones he’s struggling with, though. sanji feels his stomach turn with guilt and trauma at your words. "and before that?" he asks, his voice low.

"coffee, at breakfast." your hands still but they and your eyes remain on your lap.

he exhales your name softly.

"it had milk and sugar in it," you say defensively at his meager response, voice somehow even softer.

sanji lets out a quiet, humorless chuckle before taking your hands in his. he doesn't say anything, waiting, until finally you look up to meet his eyes. "why?" he asks when you do.

you look confused. "what do you mean?"

he raises one of his hands to tentatively cup your cheek, eyes full of tenderness and concern. "are you... unhappy with the way you look?" he asks carefully, trying not to word it in a way that could be misconstrued. when your eyebrows furrow deeper, he hurries to add, "because you’re-"

"no," you cut him off before he can undoubtedly shower you in praise, "no, it's not that." and then you add, cheeks flushing, "um. thank you, though."

sanji offers you a brief smile, his hand falling from your cheek and rejoining the other with yours, before frowning again. "is it my cooking, then? sweetness, if there's ever anything you don't like-"

"no, not at all," you cut him off again, this time with more certainty as you shake your head. "i love your cooking."

“then?" he prompts lightly when you don't say anything else.

one of your feet begins to flicker back and forth like a light switch against the deck, giving away your restlessness. you’re back to looking everywhere but at sanji, at his eyes. "i'm just... not hungry."

as if on cue, your stomach lets out another low growl, causing your blush to deepen in embarrassment. sanji wants to smirk at you, poke fun at how cute you look flustered like this, but the noise reignites his guilt. reminds him how you’d gotten to this state without him even noticing.

"your stomach says differently," he simply states. sanji pulls his hands away from yours before standing up and offering one back to you. you don't hesitate to take it, and he effortlessly helps you rise to your feet. "c'mon. let's get some food in you."

your wince at his words doesn't go unnoticed by him. he gives your hand, still in his as you both make your way towards the kitchen, a short squeeze before murmuring softly, "wanna tell me about it? you don't have to if you don't want to."

to be honest, he's surprised you've been so receptive to him thus far. he doesn't want to push his luck, your grace, because if he did-- if he made you feel uncomfortable, if you began to avoid him because of it-- well, it would feel crushing, that’s for sure.

the nervousness in sanji’s chest continues to blossom as you say nothing for a few steps. however, it’s swiftly replaced with concern when you do respond, your voice heavy with exhaustion. "like i mentioned before, it's because of my anxiety." you sigh once again, weighed down by your words. "sometimes it just gets... bad. i don't know why. i'm not even really sure if there is a reason, to be honest. it just happens every now and then."

the two of you have reached the kitchen by now. he silently holds the door open for you before leading you to a barstool at the kitchen island and walking around it to the sink to wash his hands. he holds his cigarette between his lips as he begins to gather ingredients from various shelves and cabinets and places them on the island between you.

“the anxiety makes me feel... full, i guess?” you continue. “i don't feel hungry, and i definitely don't feel like eating. and i feel so nauseated because of it, too. thinking about eating makes it worse. so does seeing or smelling food." you sigh. "i know i have to eat. i guess... i just didn't notice that i hadn't really eaten recently.”

sanji turns away from you, taking a final drag of his cigarette before snuffing it out and tossing it away. “you didn’t notice?”

“...i guess i didn't want to notice." you sigh for what seems to be the millionth time and sanji feels his heart twist. “noticing means admitting something’s not... okay.”

sanji hums once you trail off, signaling to you that he heard you and understood.

you start up again after a few moments of silence, restlessness shining through once more. “it’s not really that big of a deal, though. you don’t have to worry-- don’t worry about it. it’ll pass. it always does, eventually.”

sanji doesn’t respond, instead staring at the amalgamation of ingredients he had gathered specifically for you. his eyebrows draw together as he mentally rifles through countless recipes, determined to find the right one for you at this moment. something light, since you hadn't eaten properly in a little bit. no strong scents, either, except maybe ginger since that’s good with nausea. a variety of flavors and textures, to keep it fun. it’s early, so breakfast foods-- that means the bananas, yogurt--

"are you mad at me?” you ask timidly.

he freezes, mouth slightly parting in surprise before standing straight, his attention now entirely on you. "of course not, sweetness.”

"you seem upset.”

sanji takes a beat to process your words. he thought he'd been hiding his reaction well, but apparently not. "i suppose... i’m upset at myself,” he finally admits to you.

you frown. “why?”

he offers you a consoling smile, “you haven't been eating well and i hadn't noticed." he realizes you’ve reminded him for the third time that day that he’s only human-- as much as he wants to keep it to himself, to not burden you with his thoughts, he knows he stands no chance at resisting you. who could?

“but i didn't even notice," you insist.

he feels his adoration of you helplessly grow at your rebuttal. “true, but it isn’t your job to make sure all of our crewmates are well fed and healthy. it is mine."

“fine, but we're pirates,” you shoot back almost immediately. “we should all be taking care of ourselves-- i should be taking care of myself."

he chuckles at your fervency, the warm sound filling the room. “i get the feeling you’re not going to let me win this one."

"i didn't realize there was anything to win,” you grumble, making sanji laugh harder. when he glances over at you, he sees you're smiling, causing his own to widen.

sanji works in a comfortable silence for a few moments, his smile remaining on his face as he feels your eyes on him. he takes a step back when he’s done, admiring his handiwork before proudly presenting you with a small bowl and steaming mug. “made especially for you: peanut butter yogurt topped with diced bananas and granola, served with a cup of ginger herbal tea.”

simple, but he knows that’s always best when feeling nauseous. the cold yogurt should help settle your stomach, and the peanut butter provides extra protein which he had heard could help with nausea, similar to the ginger and bananas. and the granola ties it all together with its crunch.

you give him a genuine smile as your eyes glaze over the meal he had prepared before looking back up at him. “thanks, sanji.” you pause for a moment before adding, “are you okay?”

“what?” he asks, taken aback, then chuckles slightly. “aren’t i supposed to be asking you that?”

only you, he thinks to himself affectionately. only you would share something you’d been struggling with and then ask him if he was feeling okay. ever thoughtful, ever sweet.

his question seems to embarrass you and sanji can’t help the warmth that spreads in his chest as your ears turn red. “maybe not... one hundred percent, but better.” you meet his eyes again, your smile returning. “definitely better.”

his own smile grows uncontrollably wide as he leans over the island to place his hand on yours. “then, sweetness, i’m okay, too.”

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taiturner · 9 months

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YELLOWJACKETS ◆ 1x08 "Flight of the Bumblebee"

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yuesya · 3 months

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Ryomen Sukuna, the double-faced specter. The undisputed King of Curses, who had claimed the title of Strongest in his time.

… Versus Gojo Satoru. The Strongest sorcerer of the modern age –the strongest by a wide margin. In this world, at least. Back in his own world, where everything (hopefully) hasn’t gone to hell in a handbasket, Geto Suguru can confidently say that it’s Gojo Satoru and Gojo Shiki who hold the title of ‘Strongest’ together between the two of them.

Suguru had never paused to think what the world might be like without them. Either of them. And in this strange new world that he’d been thrown headfirst into without any warning, in this world where Shiki doesn’t exist and Suguru himself is dead and Satoru is left to carry everything alone, it…

It means that Satoru says that he will face Sukuna by himself, and everyone else nods along to this like it’s a foregone conclusion. As if it’s only natural. And perhaps it is, and Suguru knows that Satoru has always enjoyed a challenge, but–

It’s not the same. It’s not the same. Even though rationally, he knows that the Gojo Satoru in this world isn’t his Satoru, Suguru can’t help but worry for him, even despite the smooth confidence that the other man wears like a second skin. His friends and students in this world worry too, but Suguru can see how a not-insignificant number of them also look like they can’t fathom the thought of Gojo losing.

Because Gojo-sensei is the strongest. Invincible. Immaculate and utterly untouchable, and there is no one else who comes close to approaching him.

(“Stay with us, Suguru?”)

… Suguru worries for him.

It’s why he remains at the outskirts of the battlefield, when Gojo clashes with Sukuna. Hovering, watching, as the two sorcerers tear apart their surroundings; bridges collapsing and buildings ripped apart like wet paper. Suguru himself is a Special Grade sorcerer, but the level of a fight like this remains a cut beyond him, still. Just the multiple back-to-back Domain Expansions alone would’ve been more than enough to kill him several times over. He can feel the hairs rising on the back of his neck at the cursed energy saturating the air, and the sheer power that they throw around so easily…

It’s something that he’s only ever witnessed from Satoru and Shiki before.

…

He doesn’t know how to describe it. In the aftermath of the single most destructive release of Hollow Purple that Suguru has ever seen, Gojo’s victory appears imminent. But even riddled with injuries and missing half his body as he is, Sukuna looks up with Megumi’s face and smiles, baring his teeth as he brings his hand up in a sharp slashing motion, and–

And something inside Suguru twists, blood thundering in his ears, and his reaction is entirely instinctive. Probably the result of one too many heart attacks that Satoru and Shiki have put him through over the years, if he’s being honest here–

Rainbow Dragon, the most powerful defensive cursed spirit in Suguru’s arsenal, falls to the ground in a spray of red-violet blood, sliced in half. It does not move again, and Suguru knows that it will never move again –his connection to the cursed spirit had been severed instantaneously.

But it’s worth it. Because this means that, instead of having his upper torso separated from the rest of his body, Gojo is only missing an arm and a good portion of his shoulder. It’s his right arm, though, which isn’t good; he’ll need to regenerate the limb in order to form seals for his techniques with his hand–

“… Geto?”

“Gojo,” Suguru returns breathlessly, and then there’s no more time for idle talk. Not when Sukuna laughs, and falls upon them, already having healed from his own wounds –grievous wounds that would’ve killed any other sorcerer three times over. Not when the demon is somehow able to cut through Gojo Satoru’s Limitless technique, how is that possible?!

They struggle, and fight, and do their best. It’s not enough. Suguru and Gojo aren’t as in sync with each other as they need to be against an opponent like Ryomen Sukuna. And while Suguru is a Special Grade sorcerer, he’s not a Special Grade the way that Gojo and Sukuna are–!

Even so, Suguru grits his teeth and fights, tooth and nail, because the only other alternative now that he’s well and truly involved in this (as if he could turn his back on Satoru, any version of Satoru) is to give up, and Suguru refuses to do that.

… Is this how I’m going to die?

…

In the brief instant right before Suguru knows that he is about to face certain death, when his mind is only full of an endless refrain of Satoru, Shiki, somehow–

Sukuna stops.

The monster puppeteering Megumi’s body freezes, and looks upwards. It takes a moment for Suguru to register this odd, odd reaction, and he…

… he can’t exactly blame him.

Because when Suguru decides to take his chances and glances upwards himself to see what suddenly caught Sukuna’s attention, it’s abundantly clear that there’s something wrong. The sky –pulses, for lack of a better word. A strange sort of ripple that materializes in this space without any rhyme or reason, before it stretches open, a yawning circle of something–

Something–

Nothing.

Everything.

… What opens up in the sky in this moment is a chalice of purest darkness, overflowing with brilliant light. The frozen dawn, wrought with evening stars. There are flames curling within ice, meteorites shattering into dust, entire galaxies that wither and bloom–

It doesn’t make any sense. It’s utterly incomprehensible. Suguru stares up at the yawning, gaping maw of– of something, surely, but at the same time he doesn’t know what he’s seeing at all. Infinite possibilities, finite endings. Suguru stares and stares, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing, but the more he peers into that unfathomable void in the sky, the less he can decipher from it.

It’s… almost as if his mind simply refuses to register what he’s seeing.

Then, there is a hand.

A pale, white hand, reaching out with open fingers splayed into the air. And he does mean white, alabaster-white. The hand is followed by a slender wrist, than an entire arm, and a shoulder–

… It’s a person, that much is evident from the humanoid form. The towering creature that emerges from the hole in the sky is most certainly not a person, though. In terms of size, it’s probably large enough to rival Mahoraga. And in terms of color, their coloring is wrong.

White. Solidly stark-white, like a statue carved from marble. A flawless and unblemished human form, to be sure; a distinctly androgynous work of perfection that cannot be mistaken for anything other than unnatural.

Two arms fall down at its sides, while two more sweep out with palms faced upwards. The creature also has two heads. One is attached normally to the body as a regular human would be, while the other is offset slightly above it, much like an attentive brother overlooking his sister from behind, for all their eerie similarities–

–hold on just a fucking moment.

That’s… holy shit. Holy shit. Suguru knows those faces, would know it anywhere, even on his deathbed–!

His mind promptly short-circuits at the mind-shattering revelation. It takes a solid moment, before he’s finally able to loosen his tongue enough to speak again.

“… Satoru,” Suguru whispers disbelievingly, hoping against hope and knowing what he sees down to his very soul. “Shiki?”

What the hell. What the hell.

Suguru, his beautiful, beloved, utterly mad lunatics say to him, voice sweet and ringing with dual-toned laughter. Never play hide-and-seek with us like this again.

#Writing #zenith of stars au #twin cannons au #since it's kinda been mentioned here and there in various asks before #ta-da!#i did my best to make this thing [REDACTED]-free #eldritch abomination sato-shiki lands in twin cannons-verse #well-timed entrance in their search for suguru haha #this would be the sato-shiki that truly has a cult following #suguru: i left you guys alone for a month and you got a cult??

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