#he kills all of them every single one and begins his bloody hunt

[suchawrathfullamb]

Royal Hannigram AU where Hannibal is a king and his country is at war. He looks at his husband, William, and says:

“Do you know what you are? Are you aware of yourself? You could destroy this whole country. Do you know that?” He looks at him, standing there, doll eyes gazing into his, “Of course you do. Don’t you? You dangerous thing."

#every day the king comes to his palace and asks his servants “where's my preciosity? where is he?” and they happily guide him to Will #one day he comes strolling through the castle “where's my Will ?” and they all just stare at him teary eyed and he repeats himself #“where is he? where...is he?” his voice is beginning to falter why are they looking at him like this? #he asks one more time and his voice echoes through the walls sending all of them in shivers as he runs through the corridors #they run after him “your majesty your majesty we're so sorry” #he finds their empty bed throws himself there and buries his face on the pillow breathing in Will's scent #“your majesty they have him” the opposition has kidnapped his dear husband his preciosity his most beloved #“you were supposed to look after him! to protect him!” #he kills all of them every single one and begins his bloody hunt #hannigram #nbc hannibal #hannibal #will graham #murder husbands #hannibal lecter #hugh dancy #mads mikkelsen #fanfic

[stay-mon-army]

Under The Skin: Prologue

Word Count: 1,165 words

Warnings: death, blood, negative self-thinking

Note: Hello!! So this is the prologue to a multiple chapter book I'm writing about &team and their lore! As you can tell from the title and this chapter (hopefully), I was heavily inspired by their debut MV (Under the Skin) and their lore! I know they have the webtoon, but I wanted to tell my own first impressions of the story after watching the MV. This was a long time coming and will likely still take me some time because of how busy I am, but I hope that you guys enjoy it and stick around for the ride! There will be some member x member romantic relationships, so if that's not your thing, I apologize in advance, and this may not be the story for you! Otherwise, welcome to Under the Skin!

K’s heart beats out of his chest as he runs. He can’t stop. If he stops—

No, he won’t think about that. He just has to keep running. If he could just get there in time, he could fix everything. He could save them.

The world around him was ruined. The buildings were crumbling, the road was cracked and missing whole sections, the earth was scorched and nothing green lived. He knew, somewhere in his head, that some of his pack had caused some of the damage. They weren’t totally clean — blood and destruction was on their hands. But it wasn’t totally their faults; they had to protect humans from the vampires. The vampires were the true monsters.

K had been taught from a young age, since he was truly a “pup” as his alpha liked calling him, that the vampires would be totally out of control if the wolves didn’t keep them in check. That’s why the werewolves were created. They were the only things stopping those creatures from ripping the human world apart piece by bloody piece. They only acted calm and demure; they were ruthless. If anything, this war had proven that.

The coven in his town had been fighting back from the rule of the wolves for months. They kept poking and poking, starting small with missing pets until they escalated to attacking the wolves outright. His alpha said they had to fight back, otherwise the vampires would begin hurting humans. If that were to happen, the humans would find out about the world of the supernatural and they would all be in trouble. They would all be hunted, despite being family, friends, loved ones. The humans wouldn’t care. They would all be killed.

So, the pack had fought back, trying to keep it quiet and quick. They didn’t want any more blood to be spilled than necessary. The vampires had only been emboldened. Now, the town was in ruins, the coven dealt with, but his pack… They were all dead.

He just had to find his alpha. He would know what to do. It would all be okay.

As he rounds the next corner, he spots him. Laying back against a pile of concrete slabs, his alpha is breathing, but the scent of his blood assaults his nose and his knees almost give out.

No, I can’t be too late. Please, don’t let me be too late.

K races towards his teacher, his mentor, the man who taught him everything he knows. He slams to his knees, ignoring the way the pain reverberates through his kneecaps, up his thighs, all the way to his head, jumping to throb against every single injury riddling his body. He doesn’t take longer than a single tear raising to his eye on that; he’s already reaching out his hands, hovering them over the body of the man who had raised him.

“Don’t look at me like that.” The man before him rasps, his bloody lips jerking as though he tries to smile at the boy. His eyes fill with tears as he gazes upon K, the last one. He could tell, from the way the boy looked at him, that he had seen the destruction he had brought upon this pack. That he had ruined the lives of the very ones he swore to protect. “Protecting humans from vampires, that’s what werewolves are supposed to do. I don’t regret what we’ve done — we protected those who couldn’t protect themselves.” He coughs hard, a dribble of blood leaking from his mouth, which he turns to spit out. He still has more to tell K. “I’m sorry. It’s my job as the alpha to take care of you all. There was so much more I was supposed to see as you all grew up. I’m sorry I couldn’t make that happen.” He coughs again, but this time it doesn’t stop.

K finally moves his hands to rest against the man before him, laying them on his arms, holding him as though he wishes to pull him in, cradle him close. He stops coughing, but swallows thickly, no doubt a mouthful of blood spilling down his throat.

“Please, don’t apologize. You did the best you could. You did everything you could.” K’s voice trembles, the tears finally breaking away to trace lines through the grime on his face. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t save you.” He sobs, his head falling so the man wouldn’t see his tears. He hadn’t cried in front of him in years.

“You have grown up so well, K. You have become such a strong man: you cared for the others, you took over control when no one else would, and you have learned to control the urges that often control us. If you could not save everyone today, it isn’t because of your ability. It was because I failed you.”

K’s head snaps up, ignoring the burn in his eyes as he shakes his head, raising his hands to the man's face. “You have never failed me. You could never fail me.”

The man smiles, his teeth lined with red making a gruesome sight, and yet K couldn’t look away.

“I love you, K. If anyone was to survive, I’m glad it was you.” His coughing begins wracking his body, forcing his chest up off the ground to convulse as he spits up his very life-blood.

“You can’t die. I don’t know what to do without you.” His hands pull the man towards his body, cradling his head in his lap, ignoring the splattering of blood that decorates the last clean spot on his jeans. The man's breaths are coming in whistles now, as his lungs no doubt fill with blood, choking him slowly from the inside. There was nothing K could do but watch, listen, witness as his father, his caretaker, his alpha slowly stopped coughing, slowly stopped moving, slowly stopped breathing.

When finally, his breathing stops, the silence is deafening. The wind doesn’t blow, the screams of the dying have stopped, the clashing of battle has ended; the only thing left is K’s sobs, his pleads with anyone in the universe to turn back the clock, to save those he loved.

How could K go on? How could he find a new pack, live amongst the humans, defend against the vampires, act as if he wasn’t a part of the death of his whole family? How could he pretend to be normal?

When finally the sun dips down and the moon begins its assent above the horizon to rule the sky, K lifts himself, collecting the man’s body into his arms.

He will begin by burying his dead. He will give them the respect in death they deserve, and he will burn the bodies of the vampires. And then, he will move on. He will find a way to live. He will not let their lives end in vain. It’s the least he can do.

#&team #imagine #&team imagine #andteam #andteam imagine #&team fic #andteam fic

[ein-liebloser-wanderer]

Hi! I don't know if you still take requests, so feel free to ignore, however I really liked your imagine with little red riding hooded mercenary, and you mentioned a different scenario of her with a cowardly/weak reader. Is it alright if you write up that one as well?

Ahaha. I do still take requests. I apologize if it seemed like I had stopped doing that altogether, because yes, it is still open.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

⸸ F-01-57 (Little Red Riding Hooded Mercenary) ⸸

(A Yandere AU of Lobotomy Corporation where Little Red Riding Hood is not the one being hunted, no it's you. OOC and fanon are to be expected.)

Scenario: See how Little Red puts up with a darling with low Fortitude in her daily shenanigans as the local mercenary inside the world's worst powerplant.

Watching you nervously fumble through her containment unit, she can only wonder: how the bloody hell did you managed to make it this far?

Yes, she's aware you're more like the housekeeping staff here than an actual agent (she's referring to all the Instinct work you do), but even she can't look down on that when you, what? Do all the cleaning with the monsters still in the room?

Not to mention the fact that you actually get sent out to suppress Abnormalities sometimes. And what did you say it was for again? To knock some common sense into them?

She's met some of the other so-called Abnormalities staying in this place. Hell, your manager even hires her to 'escort' them back to their rooms from time to time.

Then, the day came where she finally asks you, and perhaps as an act of humility, you answered: "Well, luck? There are far worse Abnormalities, I'm sure. I think I just haven't been sent to work on those."

Little Red didn't know if she should be pleased that she could be so trusted...or insulted. Did that mean she was better than these cracks, or did you just not take her seriously?

Being the carefree, I-don't-give-a-damn-about-what-others-think kind of person, she decided to settle for the former, but the latter still nags her from time to time. During those days, she can't help but...well, show off.

Knowing your 'weak ass', she would deliberately lead a monster to you just so you could see how dangerous her job as a mercenary really is. Maybe she would let it see you and chase you around so you could get a taste of it yourself. And once you finally fall onto your knees, struggling for your life? She would swoop in to land the killing blow and save you.

Naturally, you would be grateful as you grovel before her, and be all, "Thank you for saving me, Red! Without you, I would have died pathetically and pitifully!" All she would say is, "I'm just doing my job", which would make you forever reliant on her for your own survival.

This is all just her fantasy, but hey. A gal could daydream.

But it wasn't really hard to make it come true, because hey! Won't you look at that? Here she is, running down the halls for her target, and she so happened to see you getting your ass kicked by some HE Abnormality?

The Manager of this place paid her to hunt down a specific target, but this once, just this once, she'll do him a favour. It absolutely had nothing to do with the aforementioned fantasy.

On the surface, Little Red wouldn't seem like the overprotective girlfriend...but she is. She wouldn't demand where and who you are going to meet every time she sees you. She would do it as she casually cleans her nails with her sickle knife. "Oh, I'm just curious, is all"

Just believe her when she says she was sent on a job by your Manager. She absolutely wasn't following you around, keeping an eye on you.

It might begin to feel suffocating how F-01-57 constantly shadows you. It used to be as simple as escorting you onto your next job, but that gradually turned into having a constant bodyguard follow you wherever you go.

She would make your job oh-so much more difficult. Given that some Abnormalities prefer solitude, her presence is very much unwelcome.

After every single suppression, she would always make a point to you that this was why she could never leave you alone (even though she was the one to provoke them in the first place). You were just too weak. A pitiful excuse for an agent.

You, being the weak coward that you are, you would never speak up against her. Why would you, anyway, when she is only telling the truth? You couldn't defend yourself even if your life depended on it.

And how dare you even want to complain? Not everyone is lucky to have her services (for free, by the way), so you should be grateful that a WAW-class Abnormality, someone strong and capable gave a damn about your life when everyone else in this place wants you dead in the most horrific way possible.

#yandere #lobotomy corporation #project moon #little red riding hooded mercenary #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #female yandere #yandere x you #x you #yandere lobotomy corporation

[selfnss]

Jono has never been one for combat. Every talent he possesses excels in getting him away from harm, something that has served him well throughout his life, both before and after becoming a Hunting Dog. An ideal skillset if you’re a person who places their well-being above others–unfortunately, while Jono claims to be such a person, it’s not entirely true.

That becomes painfully evident now, in the midst of a mission, when Jono is faced with a problem. Tetcho has his back to Jono, occupied with their target, when a second, stealthier foe creeps from the shadows behind the hound, poised to deliver a lethal blow. There’s no time for Jono to shout a warning or draw his own blade. He’s moving before he can consider his options, darting into the space between partner and enemy, the cruel lance meant for Tetcho instead burying itself into Jono’s abdomen. All the Hunting Dog can manage is a strained cry of pain before the force of the attack sends him slamming into Tetcho’s back, a tangle of limbs and blood.

blood rushes in tetcho's ears, adrenaline filling every inch of him and dulling the world around him. he trusts jono to have his back - despite everything they went through when their partnership was in its very beginning, even when jono was especially open about his desires to kill tetcho and display his body in varying public spaces. despite all of that in years past, tetcho trusts jono with his life. it's the reason they work so well together. jono can wield tetcho like the very blade he creates and tetcho can dive in head first knowing that jono will cover him.

this hasn't happened before, though.

there's no warning. no preparing for the weight that hits his back - sending even the strongest of the hounds stumbling forward half a step and causing his blade to embed in the brick wall behind their target. in all of a split second - the opening created has left tetcho to watch their mark scrambling for the safety of another side alley and tetcho coiling as he turns on the balls of his feet to be faced with the shock of crimson and jono's frame staggering and doubled over. everything slows as tetcho sees his partner's hands clutched at his middle and then processes the blade in their assailant's hand where he stands over jono's crumpling form.

tetcho doesn't think before he's moving - energy surging forward in tandem with the shuddering metal of his blade as it stretches and strains with the white hot rage that floods every single one of the hound's senses. his free hand finds jono's upper arm, keeping him from collapsing completely as tetcho's ability removes the assailant's knife from him completely - severing his hand with little resistance even through the bone. instinct has him moving forward, pulling his partner up against him and gritting teeth as the hound lifts a foot and paces it firmly in the centre of his new target's chest.

"let this serve as a warning." tetcho's voice is low, dangerously close to a growl and full of trembling rage in the split second before he pushes and kicks jono's attacker with all the concentrated strength he can manage. distantly, he hears the crumbling of concrete and brick as the man's back makes contact with a wall across the street. distantly, tetcho can hear sirens and panicked shouts of civilians... neither of them matter, though.

neither of them matter as his blade clatters to the ground and tetcho's attention is turned to his partner. again, he's a slave to his instincts as he takes jono in both hands and lays him down - lifting now bloodied hands to unclasp his cloak and ball it up before pressing it against the still bleeding gash. he doesn't notice the way his hands tremble. he doesn't notice the way his vision blurs and breathing hitches in panic as the scarlet keeps coming - as it seeps between his fingers and stains armoured gloves.

"jono--jono-san. jono do not-- do not close your eyes." the desperation in tetcho's words is palpable, it lays thick in his throat and even thicker throughout his muscles as he presses the wad of fabric as firmly as he dares. jono got hurt because of him. jono put himself in the way of a blow meant for tetcho. that fact refuses to sink in - refuses to settle against tetcho's skin as he begs his partner to stay with him.

"jono-san. jono-san look at me--please keep your eyes open. please stay awake--please--"

the sirens draw closer. the blood continues to pool beneath the two hunting dogs.

#moonhund / jono. #muse: tetcho suehiro #ic. #answered. #ask to tag // #i drop this at ur feet and scuttle off to pass out in bed #hi sorry this got long #'i'm writing short things now' i said #y'know #like a fool

[swtki]

Enemy - E. C

Pairing: Edward Cullen x Vampire! Fem! Reader

Summary: Edward meets his seductress once again

Warnings: Smut, 18+ content, banter between muses, femdom, Sub! Edward, not in an alternate universe just set in the seventies, Volturi! Reader, oral (m), mention of Edward being killed, swearing of course, Vaginal sex, kinda dubcon but not really? Public alley sex.

A/N: Edward smut is hard you mfs better love this.

If he had a working heart, he was sure it would be pounding so loud the whole city could hear. He sat on his balcony, eyes scanning the crowded Paris streets. To find her, the woman who was to destroy him. Alice had warned him just a week ago, her vision being one of chaos and pain. Behind it all, was a womans face. Not just any face however, it was Y/N. A member of the Volturi, whose heart was set on pulling him limb from limb. Everyone in the house had decided it would be best if Edward were to depart from their permanent home, flee to Paris for a short time. He was akin to being alone, but to be alone while watching over your back 24/7 was not the same. While he hated every second of his existence; He knew that if he were to give up and let her kill him, she would surely only continue to his family. He couldn’t let that happen, so he kept moving in the shadows. She wouldn’t move on until she had his head.

He racked his brain, trying to figure out a long term plan as this could only work for so long. She was strong, killing her wouldn’t be easy nor would it be something he wanted to do. Perhaps he could change her mind, he could talk her down from her dedication.

He sighed, walking into the main room and grabbing his jacket.

He needed to eat.

The elevator ride down was slow, and he tapped his finger against his thigh. How he hated human life, but at the same time desired it more than anything. Tedious elevators, the need to eat every single day, the need to sleep. The doors finally slid open, allowing him to walk down the lobby and out of his building.

The street was unusually crowded at this time, the past five days the streets were deserted as soon as the clock struck nine-pm. He couldn’t run to the closest forrest or country plaine, he needed to leave the area before they could see him take off.

So, he started walking. Voices filled his head - the French didn’t try to hold back compared to Americans. Thats when he realized, it was friday night. There were people flooding the streets. More specifically, humans flooding the streets.

“Shit.” He breathed out, knowing that he’d not only have to cancel his meal, but interrupt someone else's. He started walking to the loud music, cursing himself for being this stupid. Who other than Edward Cullen would want to find his potential murderer?

As people danced to the music, he slid toward the bar. He ordered a beer to maintain face amongst the others around him.

“Merci.” He started to turn back to the dancing bodies, but stopped when he heard the order the bartender was receiving.

“Un whisky et un verre de ce champagne.“ The man said, waiting for his drinks to be prepared. Thats when Edward realized. He had ordered champagne. Both the human man and the bartender had thought it was weird someone would order champagne in a club like this. But she always ordered champagne, always. It was what she would tell her victims to order before she took them outside.

He watched the man take the drinks, hoping he was wrong about the partner. He cursed as he realized he wasn’t. She drank, flirted, and of course lured him outside. Throwing some coins on the bartop, he quickly followed. But, he was too late. Her body was flush against the human mans, she was having a bloody good meal. Edward would be lying if he didn’t debate joining her.

“I see you’re still denying your nature.” She pulled off of him, letting the body drop as she stood still.

“I see you’re still wearing red so you don’t need to worry about stains.” He replied. She smiled and turned to him, looking him from head to toe. “I don’t know why you still despise me after all these years, Y/N.” her smile faded.

“Despise you? No, Edward I quite admire you.” She walked over to him and pressed her hand to his shoulder, “I really do think you’re one of the strongest of our kind. You could be stronger, but you suppress yourself. You drink rats blood, while I drink how our kind is meant to. Shame, really.” She walked behind him and her hand wrapped around his neck. He couldn’t move, her powers overtook him. “Imagine the life you and I could lead if you would just submit”. He shuddered at the last word. He was always a sucker for her when it came to seduction and she knew it.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing much. I just want the natural order to be restored.” She smiled and kissed his neck sofly. “Imagine yourself, in Italy with the most powerful of our kind. You could have me every night - for the rest of eternity.” his eyelashes fluttered as she continued kissing his neck. “Do you want to see how good it would feel to be with me every night?”

“Please.” He whimpered. Thats all she needed to release him from her grasp and push him against the dark brick wall. Their lips connected as if they were puzzle pieces, moving in perfect harmony with each other. She pulled away, slithering down on her knees, she was going to make him realize how much he needed her.

“Shall I?” She asked, running her hand up his thigh softly.

“Yes, God, please.” Edward begged, she loved hearing him beg for her touch.

“You always were weak when it came to sex, wonder if you still moan at the smallest, little,” Her hand groped his growing cock. His stomach fluttered with pleasure, and he couldn’t hold his moan, “Touch. Edward, you can read my mind, you can see what I have planned.” He looked inside her head, seeing the pleasure she could inflict upon his body if he would just wave a white flag.

As she took off his trousers, he debated surrendering or not. Was she worth living a life he wanted nothing more than to shun? Every time they saw each other, the sex was electric almost. She made him feel like a prey being hunted by a predator, and he loved that. As much as he hated to admit it, part of the reason he kept turning down the offer was because he didn’t want to ruin the cat and mouse relationship. He knew she loved the chase, that was why she was so persistent. But did he still feel a hatred towards her? Yes. He had seen her slaughter entire groups because she didn’t get her way. But tonight, he decided, he would wave a white flag and lower it once the sun rose.

He snapped back to reality, she hooked her fingers around the waistband of his briefs, looking up at him through her long lashes. He looked down, beginning to place his hands on her head, but was stopped by her pinning him to the wall. Her gift was useful in many situations.

Tugging down, she smiled when his dick was finally isolated. He was all hers tonight, he was painfully hard for her and only her. Her hand grasped the shaft, pumping a few times before licking a long stripe up. He made a moan of pleasure and she rewarded him with taking his length down her throat. She gagged and felt his hips buck, making her withdrawal.

“Wait-” He began.

“No, you broke the rules. What did I tell you about greed, Edward?”

“That it had no place in our sex life.” She smiled and stood, slapping his cheek a few times.

“Dress. We’ll be going to my hotel room, you may not deserve anything, but I do.” He rushed to pull up his pants and follow her.

She pushed him down on the bed as soon as the door was shut, lifting her dress up, she straddled him.

“Imagine, you agree and this is every night for the rest of our time.” Pulling down his pants she spat on her hand and guided him to her slick cunt. He slid in with ease, making her eyes roll into her skull. He could hear her mind scramble as she slowly rocked her hips. “Feel so fucking good, shame you have to be so fucking stupid.”. He was sure if he had blood he would have just bitten it and bled out. She was so fucking hot, watching her nails dig into his firm stomach. He adored her from this angle, especially when she didn’t even bother to to take her clothes off.

“Can I touch you, please?” She smiled and nodded, letting his hand move so his thumb could skillfully rub her clit, making the coil in her stomach tighten. Her movements got faster, and he heard her mind beg for more. He slightly lifted his hips while continuing his fingers. Her orgasm washed over her, causing her to scream out in pure bliss. She stopped her hips, swinging her leg over his body and straightening her dress. He looked at her in confusion, he still hadn’t cum.

“You can cum when you agree to join me. I had my fun, now leave.” She said coldly. He pulled his pants back up, stumbling back to the apartment he had spent every night and day in. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t consider saying yes to her.

As long as it was her

—

Like my content? Reblog! It helps me out so much and shows others my work. So, all I ask is that you reblog it!

#edward cullen fanfiction #edward cullen x reader smut #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen smut #headcannons twilight #twilight smut #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson smut #edward cullen fanfic

[linkspooky]

The Protagonist of Another Story

Aren’t protagonists just the worst? Just assuming everything revolves around them you know, like they’re the main character of some story? Gege has stated several times they want to write a story where no one single person is right, where they can’t always be correct no matter how good those intentions are. I believe he’s continuing that theme by now introducing another protagonist just like Yuji, who assumes he’s the hero of this story and making them fight each other. More on the relationship between Yuta and Yuji under the cut. 

1. Heeeeeeeeere’s Yuuuuuuta.

A stated by Gege themselves in their commentary for this week, Yuta’s central character trait is his indecisiveness. In other words, Yuta is lacking so much in confidence that he doesn’t make decisions for himself and instead relies entirely on what other people say. 

Yuta’s central flaw he’s confronted with in volume zero is his codependency towards others. He relies on other people to validate him, to tell him that he’s a good person and that he’s worthy of living. 

There’s nothing wrong with this desire, it even parallels Yuji’s in a way. Yuta wants to be surrounded by others who tell him it’s okay for him to keep on living. Yuji wants his life to mean something, he wants to help others so he’ll have plenty of people surrounding him when he dies. It’s basically the same desire, a desire to help people and be needed by people so they won’t have to be alone. 

However, there’s two layers where this behavior can also be a problem, especially when applied to Yuta. Maki is the first one who calls it out. Is Yuta actually a good person, or is he merely acting like one to treat him nice. 

Yuta is entirely passive, and rather than active control of circumstances he tends to play the victim and pretend to be helpless. He believes himself to be a good person who hasn’t done anything to deserve what’s happening to him, and that can make him blind to his own faults. Like a person who has been bullied in the past, who acquire a victim complex, and now sees any kind of conflict as someone attempting to bully them. Yuta doesn’t seem to ever realize when he might be in the wrong, because his view is that in every situation he’s just a good innocent person being bullied. 

Passive isn’t good, it’s just passive. Yuta has a hard time seeing when he’s at fault in situations. Such as when he believed for several years that it was Rika who cursed him, when  in fact it was the other way around, he was the one who cursed Rika.  

Yuta is also, someone completely codependent. He’s so afraid of losing people that he can’t function without them. This also informs the reason why he cursed Rika, because he himself couldn’t let go of her. Yuta learns in volume zero that he has to let go of old friends, because he can always form new friends, he can always find new reasons to keep on living, however he clearly hasn’t completely conquered this flaw. 

His lack of faith in himself, his codependency, is what ultimately leads to his indecisiveness. He can’t have faith in his own decisions so he puts faith in the people around him instead to reassure him and back him up. However, this makes him insanely protective of the people around him, because if he ever loses him then Yuta’s fragile world comes crashing down. He is entirely dependent on the people around him in order to keep living. 

Yuta doesn’t actually care about the world at large. He doesn’t even care enough to argue with Geto about his points. He’s not even sure that Geto is the bad guy, he literally just wants to kill Geto for hurting his friends. 

For Yuta, all that matters is protecting his small little bubble of friends. He’s learned that he can make new friends,but not that the world exists at large outside of his greater bubble in sorcer society. 

2. Me, The Protagonist of Reality. 

So, Mahito kills one of Yuji’s friends right in front of him. Yuji then swears bloody violent revenge, doing whatever he can to take down and kill Mahito, unable to move on until he’s punished Mahito for the crime of killing Junpei. 

In this situation, Yuji is the good guy, and Mahito is the bad guy, right? Therefore Yuji is justified in only thinking of Mahito as someone he must kill. However, Yuji has a tendency to assume that he is the good guy in every situation. Yuji believed in a very simple story, that he was good and the people he was fighting against were evil. 

Even when the story grew more complicated, Yuji just decided he didn’t have to think too hard about his role in things. He didn’t have to think about the bigger picture, he just had to kill his enemy. 

Mahito is very much a straight forward bad guy, but the problem with this line of thinking is that not every situation is going to be as black and white as it was with Mahito. The problem with the decision to just not worry about it and not think things through, is that when you get into one of those gray situations you won’t be able to realize that you’re in one. Killing for revenge is wrong, because it’s not usually a straightforward story. Now, Yuji is on the opposite side of the story. 

Yuji’s direct actions cut Inumaki’s arm off. It is a very grey situation. Yuji made a choice to walk around with Sukuna in his body, knowing Sukuna might be able to take over at any time. At the same time it wasn’t Yuji’s intention to hurt Inumaki in this way. 

The same way that Yuji doesn’t want to think about the moral grays in his situation. It’s very likely, that Yuta doesn’t want to think about how his situation must be gray as well. Yuta right now sees himself, as Yuji saw himself to begin with, someone killing for revenge in order to punish them for hurting a friend. 

I really think it’s much more interesting if Yuta actually does want to hunt Yuji down, rather than secretly pretending to be on his side all along, because it’s a direct consequence for both of them declaring they don’t need to think about these things. If you don’t want to decide for yourself, then others will make your decisions for you and you get used. 

Straightforward revenge has always been a mistake for the characters before. When Choso wanted to kill Yuji as punishment for killing his brothers, the consequence to that was him nearly killing someone who could have potentially been another of his brothers. This might be the parallel to the Choso situation, Yuta wholeheartedly believes that Yuji is an enemy he must kill and it’s a consequence for both of them. 

They both think they’re on the good side. They both believe they’re on the right. Yuji wants to help people, and Yuta wants to protect his friends but they don’t think of the greater interpretation of their actions, because they both assume they’re good. 

However if they can’t both be the good guy then what else can they do? PROTAGONIST BATTLE! COME ON, PUT YOUR DUKES UP!  WHOEVER SURVIVES GETS TO BE THE REAL MAIN CHARACTER OF REALITY. 

#okkotsu yuta #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #itadori yuji #yuji itadoru #yuuji itadori #itadori yuuji #jjk 137 spoilers #jjk 137 #jujutsu kaisen 137 #jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen

[charliedawn]

Slashers x Yandere!Harley Queen reader ?

~A request.

I didn't really know how to interpret this request ? Are you Harley Quinn ? Or just as crazy as her ? Also, a yandere Harley Quinn ? No idea. I did what I thought was best and hope it still meets everyone's expectations.

Pennywise was thrilled when he met you. He doesn’t like many humans, but the mad ones are his favorite ! The only thing better than eating brats is partying with the crazy crowd ! Only they know how to party ! Setting sh*t on fire, crashing cars and having nonsensical discussions about the creation of the world, even though he's the only one who knows ! He finds them hilarious and, best part is ? They don't care that he's dressed as a clown and talks about eating kids ! It's only with them that he can truly be himself..They aren’t afraid and they don’t care who he is, so they can just party and have fun without him killing them at the end. When he met you, he thought you were like all of the other loonies. But, you then started killing at his command, insisted on talking to him constantly and acted very strange around him, like some kind of guard dog. He could smell the arousal of course, and the very obvious interest in him. He decided to keep you, not like Penny was opposed to the idea. He was happy to have someone else around, even if he was a bit wary at first when he couldn’t smell your fear. But, he quickly got used to you since you were one of the crazy ones. Pennywise told you from the beginning that you could forget all about the both of you being a couple, as he is a monster who couldn't touch anyone—unless to feed—without feeling uncomfortable or getting angry. But, it didn't matter to you, as simply being in his presence was enough for you. He then understood that you wouldn't give up and decided to let you stay and help during his hunts, which was just fine by you.

Pennywise : "Come on, sugar..We've got some losers to catch !"

Penny would be amazing with you, but also a yandere for you: killing everyone who you hate and who gets too close to you. He doesn't like sharing. He wouldn't mind you, as long as you don't get in his way and you bend to his every whim. He is very stubborn and wants attention every single second. He will also ask you to bathe him. He doesn't technically need it, but it helps him relax. He also can act as a stalker sometimes..especially when he sees you with someone else. But, he knows you would never cheat on him, so he quickly stopped. However, Penny is very cute and attractive in his human form to other people, so you're the one who is still afraid that he'll find better. But, you will never let him go. He is yours, and people better remember that..

Penny : "Where were you ? *pouts* I've missed you..I was bored."

But, he smiles when you give him a bloody heart in a present box.

"Here ! For you !"

(looks at picture above that is absolutely not mine)

Penny : "Aww..My favorite ! Thanks, Y/N ! You're the best !"

He may not understand why you're still here ? But, he's glad he's got you. Also, he doesn't know that the heart he just ate is from one of the women who had complimented him last time you went out..Pennywise is someone you might want to watch out for though.

Pennywise *grabs your neck and grins as he sees you choking* : "If anything happens to him because of you ? I'll be more than happy to make your death as painful as it can be."

You smile and cackle, even though the lack of air makes you dizzy : "If I hurt him ? Don't worry..I'll do it myself.."

Now..Freddy and you may love each other, but as you two are both very hot-headed individuals, there would be some fights. Nothing too drastic, but Freddy may act a bit rough with you at times..

Freddy : "Give Daddy the glove back, princess.."

You : "Make me !"

Now, this conversation may end two ways: very angry and passionate s*x, or Freddy takes back his glove by force and leaves you for a few hours before coming back with his head hanging low like a beaten puppy.

Freddy : "Uh...So, I know I may have overreacted a bit and..?"

You don't give him the chance to apologize before jumping into his arms, crying your eyes out as you thought he had left you for good.

"I'm sorry ! Don't leave me ever again !"

Freddy is surprised at first, but finally smiles before holding you closer to him.

"Yeah..Ain't leaving you. Promise."

Freddy is a dream demon, you can imagine how he can jump into your head and crawl out all of your dirty little secrets ? Every single one of them. The man knows you better than you know yourself and knows you would do anything for him. This is why he purposefully flirts with everyone, loving the face of pure jealousy you make and knowing that you will certainly kill them all at the end of the day. It turns him on and there's something about seeing you smash someone's skull to mush ? He can't explain it..He never misses the opportunity to see it and doesn't hesitate before doing the same. One wrong move towards you by any of the gents or gals ? They'll lose their hand, if not their life. You're crazy for each other, and he loves it.

Jason wouldn't really say anything at first. He would also try to kill you. Sorry. He's just not used to the company and never had any girl/guy show any interest before. However, he would appreciate your tenacity and the fact that you can keep up with him. The slasher tried to kill you multiple times, but you each time came back stronger and kept admiring him from afar. He eventually got used to you. However, the true change in your relationship happened when a bunch of drunk campers tried to hurt you. You succeeded in killing one or two, but there were just too many for you to handle on your own..Jason was hiding in the bushes and was thinking about letting you die..but an unknown force pushed him to help you. He got out of the bushes and killed all of them with his bare hands. When it was finished, he was covered in blood and could feel your eyes on him. He thought you would be disgusted or even terrified ? He turned around to face you and his eyes widened as he saw you covered in blood and mud, panting, your cheeks flushed and your pupils dilated as you made it very obvious that you were looking at him with more than just pure thoughts..He looked away and hid his urge to cough his embarrassment and only extended a hand towards you to help you get up. Your smile couldn't get any wider as you grabbed it. However, you were surprised when he threw you on his shoulder to walk back to his cabin. He saw how you made sure nobody went too close to his cabin for weeks, it was high time he paid you back..From that point on, it would be you and him, killing everyone in Crystal Lake and living happily ever after as two very crazy and murderous individuals infatuated with each other..He wouldn't let anything happen to you, and so would you.

Yeah..Sister dear has to go. You saw him try to kill her multiple times and decided to help him a bit..However, his reaction was not the one you expected as he broke into tears upon discovering his sister's corpse.

"No...Nononononno !"

Michael is unhappy because he thought at least one member of his family would survive..and the other part of him is even less happy because he wanted to kill her himself ! Michael doesn't like you. Sorry. You can't have everyone siding with you. It's not like he is against the fact that you kill, it's just that you're too overwhelming for him. He spent the majority of his life running away and trying not to lose control..Now, imagine he has to face a very bubbly, murderous, yandere Harley Quinn kind of person ? You're just not his type and he would quickly find your presence insupportable. Michael is calm, silent and even though he kills, it's not because he likes it. His personality would clash with yours. This is why I don't think he would like you..Sorry. He likes loud characters, but this is just too much. However, that doesn't mean he can't see you as a friend or an ally. He just doesn't understand you and you wouldn't understand him either.

(My God ! I just learned that Laurie is actually Michael's sister ! I thought she was his wife ! I feel stupid now. Sorry for everyone who knew when I said that Michael was married. You had to be so confused. Sorry !)

Five would love having you as a back-up call if he sees that the job is too dangerous. He met you when you were both working for the company. The Handler introduced the both of you when she thought Five would need a partner. You immediately took a liking to him, which slowly developed into something else as time went by and he decided to escape. He took you with him and, for the first time in your life, you tasted freedom. This was when you decided to leave your old self behind and become Five's partner for life, until death do you apart. He did notice the change in your behavior, but didn't take note of it until you saved his life..You were both trapped by some of the Handler's agents and you had no place to go. You saw one of Handler's agents point a gun in Five's direction and didn't hesitate before throwing yourself in front of him, just as he was about to teleport. When you both teleported to another safer location, this is when he saw the blood and made sure you live, taking care of you until you were back to normal. This was when he understood to what extent you cared about him..and how much he cared as well.

"It's the last time I will let you get hurt. I promise.."

You still have fun together, but Five is more careful now. No more big risks. Never again..

Joker in many universes are just awful to their Harley Quinn and don't really respect her as a partner in crime. I think Arthur Fleck wouldn't treat her the same way. I think he would see you as an asset, someone he can have fun with while still causing a little chaos in Gotham. I also think that, as an Harley Quinn, you would be happier with him than any of the other Jokers, as Arthur isn't as obsessed with Batman as the other Jokers and knows what it feels to be treated like trash. He would see himself in you and make sure you would never get badly abused by anyone..He would make you his princess of crime. In return, you would make him smile again. He would learn to live again and you would both spend your nights dancing in the streets without a care in the world and rob the rich to give to the poor. Arthur was highly affected by the injustice in his city and would become the Modern Era Robin Hood. Arthur lived in poverty and knows the feeling of sleeping with an empty stomach..He would still be mad as a Hatter and wouldn't blink upon killing someone if it meant better justice in the world, but would also have higher morals than the other Jokers. You would both make each other happy and have your share of fun: the prince and princess of crime. Gotham will never be safe with you two around, but secretly, people are rooting for you. All hail the true queen and king of Gotham !

Brahms has the mentality of a child, meaning that he'll imitate anyone who shows him love. You're a yandere ? Fine. He'll be one too. You want the both of you to kill everyone ? He's fine with it. Anything as long as you love him. Brahms would never treat you wrong and would never be a Joker to you. Worse case scenario ? You would be his. He would listen to everything you say and do everything you want him to. Brahms met you when you got trapped—like many people—as his baby-sitter. However, unlike any of the others, you found it amusing and started actually searching for him. He was hesitant at first, not trusting you or understanding why you would be so nice to him ? He saw you were different when you didn't even flinch when he made his presence known. You even smiled at him. Are you good to him ? Yes. Yes, you are. You love him as much as he does. However, are you good for him ? Questionable. Brahms was lost and confused as to what to do before..But, now ? He is as crazy as you and doesn't feel the need to hide anymore, which could be a mistake. Brahms had a minimum of moral conscience before, but when he's around you ? Nothing else matters. The little sanity he had ? Gone. Ask him to fight an army ? He would do it. No question asked. He would die for you.

Patricia would be conflicted...At the same time, she likes that you are a killer and she doesn't have to be worried of you leaving them because of who they are..But at the same time, she doesn't like that you're so carefree and always put yourself in danger unnecessarily. The Horde has survived as long as they did because they know better than to get noticed. You have a very loud and cheerful personality that Hedwig particularly loves, but it also worries the other "adult" personalities who see you as a possible threat. However, Patricia finds you endearing and can't help but smile everytime she sees you. You light up the room. She was concerned at first, but learned to live with it. You make the Horde happy and don't bother her with her great plans, so she won't do anything. But, be careful with her sandwiches..One day, you may not like the taste..

"Here, dearie. A nice sandwich for you.."

She will be a sweetheart with you, as long as you don't bother her. She will also accept your help when it comes to "punishing the unworthy". She knows that you've suffered, since the moment you met she could tell. Something was broken in you..However, you seem less broken now that you're together, and she is afraid that you may fix what's broken inside of them too..

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 1990 x y/n x pennywise 2017 #pennywise 2017 #pennywise x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #jason voorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader #five hargreeves x reader #arthur fleck x reader #the horde x reader #patricia split x reader #slashers #slashers au

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Oh my gosh. If danny can’t join the supers, then maybe dani can???? Maybe she did? Maybe she starts fucking melting in the middle of a fight and everyone freaks out before they take her back to danny

oh my goooood

okay okay so first we gotta consider how powerful SHE is

the show didn't give us much to work with other than that she started off unstable, which would probably have set her back in power somewhat, not to mention that she's basically nomadic and unlike Danny isn't stuck in one place battling ghosts every other day

if we run with the idea that Danny gets more powerful because he adapts to his environment, then Elle would likely be the same, meaning that other than developing the baselane general ghost abilities and probably the ice powers, she wouldn't end up as a total powerhouse

I think her powerset would be more suited to her travels, she'd be able to fly at a much higher speed than Danny could, her powers are more refined, she can probably turn invisible and intangible on instinct as an automatic defence mechanism, as opposed to Danny who has to concentrate on it

where Danny is a brawler, Elle is sneaky, I imagine she even masters regulating her ice core in order to maintain her bodyheat at room temperature to avoid being caught by thermal imaging, she can reduce her ectosignature down to nothing in her human form to avoid ghost hunting equipment, she has to adapt to avoid getting caught in a confrontation because she isn't as stable as other ghosts, she can't afford to be attacked or exert herself too much with offensive abilities, meanwhile Danny has to actively hold back his power and has to concentrate extremely hard to hide his ectosignature, even in human form

So imagine the Justice League, for example, have become very understandably terrified of Danny, and suddenly have his twin sister/clone bypass all of their security without tripping a single alarm, and is just eating a bag of cheetos while admiring the view from the watchtower windows

So Elle might not be as strong as Danny, she might not be able to fight her way out of a situation, but damn if anyone can bloody CATCH her

so if the JL realise, oh hey, she's basically just Diet Phantom she could be a huge asset while also not disrupting that delicate ecosystem of Amity Park, they might decide to recruit her, and Elle would probably say yes because she is all about experiencing new things and making friends, it's what she does on all her travels

also sneaky kid with black hair, blue eyes and is kinda half dead and seems to have no parents??? she's practically a robin already, Batman would be all over this

buuuut of course she'd end up in a situation where she's taken a few too many hits and overexerted herself fighting villains and afterwards begins to melt and then, of course, the supers freak out because holy shit they just broke Phantom's sister oh god no he's going to fucking destroy them what do they DO??

they all have to draw straws over who's taking her back to the most powerful eldritch creature on the planet and explaining that they almost killed his fucking sister

meanwhile Constantine is chewing out the rest of them because YOU FUCKERS NEARLY KILLED HIS SISTER WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT KIND OF DISASTER YOU NEARLY JUST CAUSED JESUS C H R I S T PEOPLE

#asks #danny phantom #overpowered danny #lula's aus #lula's headcanons #dani phantom #elle phantom #alfred call the guy #justice league #batman

[wearywinchester]

With You

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When the sleeping arrangements appear to be less than ideal, something more comes out of it.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mentions of injury, blood, fluff

A huff.

That’s one of the first things you had done when you had initially found out about your sleeping arrangements earlier that morning, delivered to you by a smiling Sam who’d tried to soften the blow with his famous puppy eyes. Those very eyes only half worked on you this time, and maybe it would’ve gone into full effect had you not looked at his brother who’d been standing at your other side with a knowing grin on his lips.

You must have asked Sam nearly a dozen times if he’d been sure that was the very last room and each time you were met with the same answer, each time you were met with the same grin that was returned with a narrowed stare. You were tempted to sleep in the car, even on the concrete of the parking lot so long as you didn’t have to share a bed with the older Winchester. But none of those options seemed to check out.

A huff is what you’d done upon entering the motel room later that evening, the lone bed awaiting you as if to taunt you and your very fate.

The hunt hadn’t gone exactly as planned, having gone south just enough to have Dean thrown through a wall by a more than hungry vampire. It wasn’t anything a few bandages couldn’t fix, a job he’d asked you to do.

Now here you were, standing between Dean’s thighs as he sat at the edge of said bed, leaning back against his palms until you’d told him not to with a huff.

“I’m quite sure you could’ve done this yourself you know,” you mumble, grabbing ahold of his chin when he shied away from you at the sting of the antiseptic on his face. “Actually I’m positive.”

“You do it better,” he said, a smile forming on his bloodied lips.

“That was stupid what you did back there,” you say, doing your best to distract yourself from thinking of just how close you were to him in that very moment. Though trying your hardest didn’t seem to be the solution you were looking to have. “Really stupid.”

“Oh, you mean saving you? I had it covered.”

“I had it covered. I’m not the one who got thrown through a wall now am I?”

He scrunched his nose and mocked your words, an action he came to regret as he winced while he brought his fingers up to his split lip and now it was your turn to smile. He knew full well you were right but he’d never admit it, not in a million years. That was something he’d keep to himself. Truth was, he felt it was a little too close of a call back there, more dangerous than he’d liked and he couldn’t help the instincts he’d had to step in. If he’d gotten bumps and bruises along the way then so be it. That was far more worth it to him than the damage being done to you instead.

But that was also something he’d leave to himself for the time being.

“Could you be a little more gentle, Bruce Banner?” He teases, bumping you with his knee. “Feels like you’re doing more damage than fangs did back there.”

You purse your lips at his words, landing a soft punch to his shoulder that wiped the last traces of his smile from his face in favor of an equally unamused expression.

“What? You said I’m the hulk.” You shrug nonchalantly, flashing him a smile. “Just living up to the name.”

You notice the way the corner of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly as he looked away, any traces of faux annoyance leaving his face and you made a concerted effort to be gentler this time, just a little. You also noticed the way he’d relaxed some, save for a few nose scrunches each and every time you’d cleaned the scrape on his face.

“Might hurt a little less if you held still,” you suggested after a while later when he’d groaned, the bite behind your tone something he noticed immediately.

“Ease up with the attitude, will you, sweetheart?”

The corner of his mouth quirked upward again, more so when you roll your eyes at the nickname. The one that made your heart flutter and your cheeks grow warm whenever it rolled off his tongue in your direction. The one that fell from his lips with a sarcastic edge that never failed to weave around the single word most times, but not always. Yeah, that one.

“Be quiet, will you, sweetheart?”

You breathe out a huff through your nose, lips turned downward and the slightest of frowns as your brows knit together. The remnants of his smile still remain at your counter as his eyes fall closed once more, lashes curling softly over the very tops of his freckled cheeks. The silence that fell over the small room should’ve been a good thing, should’ve been beneficial for your ability to focus on the task at hand but your attention has since been pulled elsewhere. It’d been long gone the moment the two of you stepped into that room.

It felt as though the walls were closing in on you inch by inch, as if the air conditioned room was just as hot as the summer air outside. You wanted to make excuses for yourself, to think of something logical enough to pass it off as anything other than what it was. Perhaps it’d been a little stuffy in that room, it certainly was hot enough to be. Maybe you were still running on adrenaline from the hunt you’d come back from not more than half an hour ago. Or maybe it was the way you stood inches from the older Winchester as you tended to his wounds while he sat with that same smirk he’d been wearing for the last five minutes. The way he nudged you with his knee each time stung the scrape along his jaw.

That. It was definitely that.

“You know,” he started, tilting his head away from you with a scrunched nose as his hand circles around your wrist. “I’m convinced you’re doin’ this on purpose. Because you hate me after all.”

His brow was raised and you could’ve sworn you’d seen a brief moment of sincerity cross his face, something just as quickly hidden by the grin tugging lightly at his lips. Your eyes roll then, head shaking as a laugh falls past your lips and his hand falls from your wrist slowly.

“I don’t hate you,” you sigh, quiet enough to cushion the embarrassment of your words but loud enough for him to hear.

“So you like me?”

Yes, maybe you do.

Your gaze shifts from your hands back to his eyes, your stare narrowed as you bite the inside of your cheek. “I don’t think that’s what I said.”

He laughs softly, dimple forming at the corner of his mouth as he gives a nod, then a hum as if he’d been mulling over the meaning of your four word statement spoken just moments before. As if he didn’t believe a single one of those words to be true, as though he had seen right through you. If he did, he didn’t say anything, eyes sparkling at you.

You hoped he hadn’t seen how your hands shook as you worked, continuing to blot the peroxide soaked cotton ball over the scrape lining his jaw. He didn’t particularly like the sensation, the action stinging sharply with each press of it along the fresh wound. You tried your hardest to ignore the way he’d gathered a fistful of the comforter within his hand, or the way his very jaw tensed under your palm. You tried not to notice the way he’d scooted closer to the edge of the bed, closer to you.

You swallowed, biting your cheek as you grabbed a fresh cotton pad and wet it with more antiseptic. Now it was the part you’d been saving for last, the part you’d put off as long as you possibly could in hopes that maybe it’d magically heal itself. Maybe it’d disappear if you’d waited just a few seconds longer. But fate didn’t humor you this time, the cut along the curve of his bottom lip still very much there and waiting to be tended to as hues of scarlet sat smudged around it, pooling slightly at the corner of his mouth.

It’s not a big deal. Nothing worthy enough to make your stomach twist in knots, nothing to add to the shake in your hands or the quickened pace of your heart. It was just Dean Winchester, the man you swore got on your last nerve and not at all was the source of your butterflies over time.

Definitely not a big deal.

“Would it kill you to hold still?” You ask, huffing once more.

“No, but you’re cute when you’re angry,” he says, brow raised in amusement.

You settled your hand on his jaw, thumb resting just under his lip to keep him stilled in place though it was becoming all the more difficult to hold your focus now that you’d done so. He was grinning at you again, soft as it lingered on his lips, careful to not tug at the split adorning it or the pale crimson smeared lightly over the edge that you were quick to wipe away before your heart beat out of your chest. You swiped your thumb over his bottom lip as you did so, your breath hitching softly.

“Something wrong?” He asked, the ever familiar tease to his words not lost on you.

“What makes you say that?”

When you look up, you meet his gaze and you’re starting to wonder just how long it’d been that he’d been looking at you like that. In such a way that you bit the inside of your cheek to try your hardest to keep the traces of a smile beginning to develop from becoming obvious. What had also been obvious was the fact that your hand was still on his cheek, his stubble scratching lightly against your palm and you could feel each and every time it’d clenched, or the way his voice rumbled just so under your fingertips.

You pretended you couldn’t see the details in his eyes—every shade of green and every fleck of yellow that swirled within them all framed by lashes that curled away from them. You pretended you couldn’t see the smattering of freckles that peppered across the bridge of his nose, more sparse as they danced across the very tops of his cheeks, ones you hadn’t ever noticed until you were just mere inches from his face. Said freckles dotted along his skin, meshing with the pink of his lips that you’d just been tending to before you got caught up with seemingly more pressing matters.

It was becoming increasingly more apparent just how close you’d been to the green eyed hunter when you felt the warmth of his breath fan over your skin, over the pad of your thumb. It was near dizzying when it swept over you, his once teasing smirk falling in favor of a much softer smile. Of course you’d see that, you were staring.

You were staring.

“Y/n?”

You swallowed thickly, clearing your throat in hopes to dissolve some of the tension that was more than apparent in the room. It didn’t work. You dropped your hand from his face in favor of scratching the back of your neck, though the action hadn’t looked as calm as you wanted, all but jerking your hand away as if touching him for a moment longer would sear your skin.

It was then that you turned away from him, your attention fixed on fumbling with the first aid kit that lay sifted through next to him on the bed. Your cheeks burned under his gaze, at the moment you’d just shared that felt as though it’d lasted far longer than it was. The time was indiscernible, but the way your heart hammered in your chest and the way your hands trembled slightly as you haphazardly stuffed cotton pads and unused alcohol wipes was very easy to notice in your eyes.

“Y/n.”

You were so caught up in passing off the last chunk of time as anything other than what it was, as if it didn’t happen, that you hadn’t answered him the first time. It wasn’t until his hand caught your wrist that you looked at him once more.

“You’re good to go, Winchester,” you say, finding your way back to your usual banter in hopes to stave off the remaining tension though you knew it was no use. “Don’t go looking for any more vamps. I’m afraid you just might cry if I have to give you stitches.”

He laughed behind you as you made your way to the bathroom, your smile widening at the sudden sound of his protests upon realizing just what it is you had said.

You closed the door behind you, back pressed to the wood as you let out the breath you’d been holding and you tipped your head back. It was only then that your heart rate returned to nearly normal, eyes falling closed for a brief few moments. You hadn’t entirely been sure what it was that just happened, if anything at all. Though it was more than apparent that maybe you didn’t have it out for him as much as you let on, you knew that to be true as much as you didn’t want it to be.

You took the couple of steps to the sink and ran your hands under the faucet, cooling the heat in your cheeks as you splashed handfuls of water over your skin. You brushed your teeth once—even twice for good measure, doing something, anything to borrow as much time as you could before you had to go back out there. The way you felt jittery, the butterflies in your stomach each and every time his hand brushed over yours or the moment he met your gaze even if it’d only been for a mere second. The way your heart hadn’t quite stopped its racing no matter how much time had gone by. It made you feel as though you were a teenager again with some silly crush.

Now you were sharing a bed with green eyes and you feared this just might be the way you go. Not by a freak accident or a great big ugly monster, but by sharing a bed with Dean Winchester.

With another deep breath and countless minutes later you swung open the door, Dean already having been settled in bed. His boots sat neatly on the floor by his side, jeans strewn next to them. He flashed you a grin, brow quirking upwards.

“Here I thought you ran off on me.”

You roll your eyes at the assumption though you were strongly considering it, more so when you’d noticed the bed was borderline too small for two. But you pushed that down and pulled back the covers, settling close to the edge of your side with your back to him and the blankets up over your shoulders.

He took note of the way you lay huddled on the very edge of the bed, nearly falling to the floor should he move around the slightest bit. Your back was to him but you could still feel his eyes on you, your gaze fixed on the tacky framed painting hanging crooked on the wall.

“Y/n/n, I don’t bite,” he sighs, voice soft and words sincere.

“Yeah right, Winchester,” you mumble, a smile pulling at your lips.

You hear him huff, feel the bed move a little bit in what you assumed was him rolling over for the night. You were ready to dig your heels in and sleep on the edge of the bed out spite even if it was uncomfortable. Even if you did want to tuck in a little closer because you hadn’t hated him as much as you had let on. But you don’t think you’d ever tell green eyes that, not in a million years. He’d never let you live it down and you feel you know that for sure.

“Maybe it’s you that bites,” he suggests, humor in his tone and a grin behind his words.

You snort, head shaking softly.

“Maybe it is.”

You can hear his quiet laugh behind you, the room falling silent once more save for the tick of the clock in the nightstand and the howl of the wind just on the other side of the wall. You’d since move away from the mattress’s edge just merely an inch, unnoticeable by most but more than apparent for you.

It’s quiet when you think about what’s running through his mind, if he’s thinking about what had happened not long before what’s happening now just as much as you had been. If he’d given it second thought at all. You’d been curious as to whether or not he’d gotten just as flustered. Not that it mattered. Not that it didn’t. You were quite sure you were the only one dwelling on the subject. For all you knew, the newfound silence could have been telling that Dean had already fallen asleep and you were perfectly content with pretending the last hour had never happened. More than content, in fact.

That was the plan until the silence was broken.

“Hey, you uh…” he starts, tone much more serious than it had been not long before. “You don’t have to share a bed with me if you don’t want to. I can take the floor.”

His offer was sincere, in fact, that’s the most serious he’d been since you nearly had a close call on the hunt earlier that day. Obviously, he’d followed it with a witty counter and pursed lips, something about learning to not be so reckless falling from his lips. Regardless, he’d meant what he’d just said.

You roll your eyes as you finally move to roll over.

“Dean, don’t be ridiculous—”

Your breath hitched once more when you nearly brushed noses with him, not really just how small the bed was and just how close he’d be. Soon you find yourself in the same situation as you had been once already that day, cheeks burning and heart racing. The same heart fluttering, time stopping situation that made it feel like something even as simple as breathing at a steady rate seems like the most difficult task to achieve to date.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

The corner up his mouth quirked up, an indicator that was forever telling that he’d been up to something.

“I’m serious, I’m sure it’s not easy to share a bed with Dean Winchester,” he says, a laugh leaving his lips when you swat at his shoulder.

“I don’t think you realize how much of a pain you are,” you grumble, brows knit together in a display of discontent though the way you bite your lip to hide your amusement says otherwise.

What he said, it was obvious, you knew the first time he said it it’d been sincere. He didn’t need to tell you it was for you to believe it. You knew him well enough to know the difference between him poking fun to get on your last nerve and when he’s truthful, you’re just lucky enough to get both.

“Oh but I think I do.” You huff out a sigh, lips pursed as you look up at him and he lets out a breath of his own as he looks at you. “Seriously, I mean it. I can get comfortable on the floor if you want me to.”

You look up at him, laughing softly in a way he knew wasn’t teasing this time. “It’s fine, Dean, really.”

“Oh, so you do like me?”

“Who said that?”

He huffs out a laugh, propping himself up on his elbow as his jaw rests on his palm. He pretends to ponder the question as though it required much thought. “Well, you’re lookin’ at me like that again. Like you did a little bit ago when you were patching me up.”

“Don’t push your luck,” you say, shoving his shoulder again. His reasoning was soft and not entirely teasing, not mocking either and you knew for a fact you’ve got to get better at hiding your emotions. You can’t fight your smile this time, one that was very telling to him that you’d been up to no good. Couldn’t be.

“What?” He asked, face displaying amused curiosity.

“Nothing,” you shrug, “I’m thinking maybe you just want to be close to me,” you say, matter of factly as you look up at him, trying your hardest to take the heat off of you.

“Oh really?” He asks, amusement on his tongue as you nod. “Your cheeks just might be hotter than the sun right now, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes and push his hand away, though you stay right where you are. Even though you promised you hated him, you knew you didn’t. You knew it was far more than that, and you knew you missed the feeling of his hand on your cheek. He knew it too. You hated that your very emotions were so easily pinpointed by him, you were convinced your every thought was too for that matter. You were starting to wonder if you’d been that transparent or if he’d just known you better than you knew yourself.

“Maybe I’ll just sleep in the car with Sam,” you say, though you made no effort to move his hand from your cheek.

He simply hums, nodding his head as his eyes squinted in disbelief that you’d actually consider subjecting yourself to Sam’s snoring in such close quarters. He knew you wouldn’t do that either.

You were doomed.

Never mind the fact that you had now been sharing the same pillow, never mind the fact that you were close enough to feel the warmth of his breath fan over your lips, more so with every word he spoke. You were far too distracted by the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth in a way you knew meant he surely knew you were full of it. By the way his hand settles lightly over your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin in a soft motion.

Your heart bounded as you looked at him, as your cheeks continued to burn under his fingertips. It was then that you did it.

You leaned forward, the inches between you becoming centimeters, centimeters falling to nothing as your lips brushed over his own. You felt him smile, the softness of his laughter sounding against your lips as his hand remained on your cheek and the tips of his fingers tangled in your hair. It wasn’t more than soft touches of the others lips, the second kiss longer than the first, and the third sweeter than the last. And even though you’d parted, neither of you strayed far as your smiles lingered in the close proximity.

He laughs again, fingers brushing over the top of your cheek, thumb smoothing over your skin. It’s that all familiar mix of humor and something a little bit more.

“And here you said you didn’t like me,” he says, the tip of his nose bumping yours.

“And I just might change my mind.”

With that he grabbed your hand, pulling you in closer before he rolled to lay on his back. You settled down on his chest, head over his heart as your smile lingered—you hadn’t seen the one to match yours as his eyes fell closed, but it’d been there.

“So does this mean—”

“Night Dean.”

He pauses for a minute, smiling to himself as he answers his own question.

“Night sweetheart.”

Maybe sharing a bed with green eyes wasn’t so bad after all, but you won’t admit that. At least not to Sam.

—

Tags: @gxtitobxby @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @campingmonkey

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester oneshot #supernatural

[stiltonbasket]

au of an au for qin su!wwx where wwx is still in qin su's body but it's JYL who gets summoned back in MXY's body.

Jiang Yanli doesn’t know what she was expecting to happen after she died, but it certainly wasn’t waking up a few minutes later in a donkey shed with blood all over her robes.

She’d been stabbed, she remembers. Perhaps they put her in the first sheltered place they could find while the battle was still going on, and somehow missed the fact that she was still alive? Yanli reaches up to her chest and tries to feel her heartbeat; she is somehow very certain that she had died, since the look on A-Xian’s face when the sword went through her chest was--

But the memory remains unfinished, because Yanli’s hands are poking at her bosom, patting over her ribs one by one as she wonders when she became so thin. Her mother always complained about her narrow figure, even as she scolded her for eating so much when she was in her teens--and Madam Jin worried about how difficult childbirth might be before Jin Ling arrived, since her waist and hips were so skinny--but her breasts were never this flat, and her ribs never stuck out this much even when she was a child.

And then her fingers brush over the rounded lump at her throat, and reveal the truth in one devastating blow that brings Yanli to her knees.

This isn’t my body, she realizes, backing away from the bloody array on the ground and into the rickety cupboard standing against the wall. This is a man’s body.

___

Less than two hours after she wakes, Yanli escapes from the Mo estate in such turmoil that she almost forgets to take the donkey with her.

Keep your wits about you, she berates herself, dressing herself in the only set of spare robes she could find before squirming out of the shed’s high window and crumpling into the dust outside. Mo Xuanyu meant to bring back A-Xian, but that means that A-Xian is...

She blinks back tears, dragging the donkey down the road behind her as she reads over Mo Xuanyu’s letter again. The poor boy had been one of Jin Guangshan’s illegitimate sons, Jiang Yanli’s own xiaoshuzi, and Jin Guangyao had exiled him because he had learned the truth about Qin Su being his younger half-sister.

He was behind your death, too, the letter said. I believe he might even have organized Jin Zixuan’s assassination, since he most likely murdered our father, as well.

Jiang Yanli grits her teeth and pushes on. The single long cut in her arm throbs--a cut that will heal only when Jin Guangyao dies, according to Mo Xuanyu--but the sting is nothing to the twenty hours of sheer agony that was giving birth to Jin Ling, who turned out so big and chubby that she spent the first few hours of his life wondering how such an enormous baby could have possibly fit inside her.

How old would A-Ling be now? she wonders. Did Jin Guangyao and Qin Su bring him up, in mine and Zixuan’s place?

Oddly enough, she doesn’t find herself shying away at the thought of bringing Jin Guangyao to justice. She can probably count on Nie Mingjue to do the actual killing, if it comes to it; there was bad blood between the two even before she and her husband died, and quite frankly, she doesn’t blame Nie Mingjue for it.

A-Xian tore the men who killed the Jiang shidis and shimeis limb from limb, and she would expect no less from a man who watched Jin Guangyao kill his brothers-in-arms right before his eyes.

But then, why did they swear brotherhood after that?

It must have been for Zewu-jun’s sake, Yanli thinks wearily, when she finally stops at a river crossing and leads her donkey down onto the pebbly beach to take a drink. Though I doubt that Zewu-jun could have sworn brotherhood with anyone who had Lan blood on their hands, whether he owed them a life-debt or not.

Her stomach growls, and she searches in the donkey’s saddle-bag for something to eat just in case the owners of the Mo estate had left some bread or fruit there to coax the animal with. Her brief hunt yields a pair of shriveling apples, half-dried but not yet spoiled, so she washes down the fresher one with plenty of cold water and feeds the bigger, drier apple to the donkey.

“I think I’ll call you Apple,” she laughs, as it wolfs down the fruit before sticking its muzzle back into the bubbling stream. “Do you like your name, xiao-pingguo?”

Little Apple takes to the name well enough, and brays contentedly every time she calls it. They rest together by the river for an hour, with Yanli napping in the shade with Little Apple keeping guard; and she starts off again just after noon, hoping to find a main road that might direct her to a town and then towards the nearest cultivation sect.

Jiang Yanli has to admit that Yunmeng Jiang is out of the question: because as much as she loves her younger brother, she highly doubts that he won’t do something stupid if he thinks some nameless Jin exile is pretending to be her. And she certainly can’t go back to Lanling with Jin Guangyao still there, so her quarry will have to be the Gusu Lan clan. Hanguang-jun was friends with her A-Xian, and would surely hear her out for his sake if for nothing else; and Zewu-jun is not as hot-tempered as Chifeng-zun, meaning that Yanli will come to no harm even if Lan-zongzhu doesn’t believe her.

“Xiao-Pingguo,” Yanli begins, stepping over something silvery in the grass as the two of them head deeper into the woods, “how far do you think the--”

Suddenly, her legs go out from under her. Little Apple brays and backs away in alarm, tossing his head anxiously as Yanli struggles into a sitting position and tries to make sense of the fact that her donkey is now over ten feet below her.

“What on earth?” she mutters, biting back one of A-Xian’s favorite curse words as she takes stock of her current situation: trapped inside a net swaying far above the ground, and with no means of cutting her way free from it without breaking her own neck.

“It caught something!” Yanli hears a boyish voice shout, followed by the crackling of someone rushing through the forest and the twang of a drawn bowstring. “Duck, Yu-da-shixiong! I’m going to shoot!”

“You are going to do no such thing,” someone else drawls, with a hint of a sharp Northern accent that reminds her of her late mother. “At least see what you’ve caught, you onionhead. If your stupid nets managed to catch a Lan, you’ll have Chifeng-zun and Hanguang-jun dragging you to Jin-zongzhu for punishment. Chifeng-zun might even punish you himself, since he’s Jin-zongzhu’s sworn da-ge. Do you really want to take the risk?”

“No,” the first boy grumbles. “And anyway, it looks like it’s just--you!”

The sudden dislike in his voice makes Yanli look down, startled, and then the breath flies out of her body as the Jin disciple marches up to stand beneath her.

“Jin Ling?” she asks, her own voice cracking like shattered glass as the Jiang disciple mounts his sword and flies up towards her, presumably so that he can help her climb out of the net. “A-Ling--is it you?”

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #jiang yanli #qin su!wwx #my fic #HERE IT IS #THE LONG AWAITED JYL #*bows #prompt fill #the jiang disciple is yu xihan btw #our boy :') #please reblog guys i am begging

[delimeful]

nothing in this world (i wouldn’t do) (2)

warnings: mild blood/violence/injury, demon slaying, miscommunication, impromptu first aid, mentions of spiders, virgil tempting fate with his internal dialogue again

-

Whenever Virgil wasn’t sleeping, he was on the move.

At first, it had been because he didn’t trust himself around towns for too long, and there was always the chance of a real demon slayer getting wind of that ridiculous rumor and trying to track him down and kill him for it, even though it totally wasn’t his fault.

But then, as time went on, his bizarre pseudo-popularity seemed to have a different side effect.

Namely, every time he managed to save another human and hauled them back to the nearest town, he’d be practically swarmed. Antsy townsfolk would hurriedly inform him of the horrible tragedy they’d heard about up north, or the mysterious disappearances by the woods between this town and the neighboring one, or any sort of rumor that they thought a “demon slayer” should know about.

Where exactly were all the real demon slayers when people needed them? Why was he, an actual demon, seemingly more accessible for seeking help?!

Still, he wasn’t exactly doing anything else with his life (his unlife?), and if there were less demons, that meant the world would be safer for Thomas, didn’t it? So off he went, taking the less-traveled paths and following vague leads right into more danger.

His latest case had been a requested one, from a weaver in the last town. She had received a letter from her brother saying that he planned to come visit, and weeks later, he still hadn’t appeared or replied to her many return messages. The worry seemed to weigh her down like a physical burden, and he’d agreed perhaps more easily than normal.

Now, he was wedged into a shallow crevice in the mountainside and sorely regretting that decision.

The issue wasn’t the demon, no. He’d actually been making good progress on getting deeper and deeper into its territory in the past few days.

The issue was that he wasn’t the only one hunting it.

First, it had been a gaggle of young teens, and he’d been so alarmed that he’d almost dropped right out of the trees and ushered them back out of the woods. The less humans traipsing around this deep in demon territory, the better.

Of course, that was when he’d managed to spot the swords strapped to their sides, and suddenly, never appearing before a human again was looking more and more appealing. He’d immediately switched gears from tracking to stealth, and honestly, should have just turned tail and left then.

Instead, because those kids were around Thomas’s age and he still needed to find that weaver’s brother and also he was a sentimental idiot, he trailed them at a distance, always staying downwind and poised to bolt.

They handled themselves well at the beginning, and then the environment began to warp around them, and then it turned out there was more than one demon nesting here, and Virgil had been on the brink of jumping down and interfering, swords or no swords, when--

Between one blink and the next, one of the demons was cleanly beheaded.

The demon slayer-- for what else could he be-- smiled brilliantly as the body disintegrated to ash, holding a hand out to help one of the teens to their feet.

“It seemed like you all could use a little assistance,” he’d said, turning to face one of the other demons with a confidence that visibly unsettled it. Above, a circling crow cried out raspily. “My dear Missus informed me of your call for backup.”

If the stranger’s swift execution hadn’t tipped Virgil off, the way the baby slayers looked up at him with blatant awe was clue enough. This slayer was powerful and charismatic, whereas Virgil was neither of those things, so he was going to stay right here in his crevice until the whole situation had sorted itself out.

The three other demons seemed to have no such qualms, lunging at him in a semi-coordinated attack. The slayer handled them with terrifying ease, and for a moment it seemed that the battle had been settled, as simple as that.

Of course, that was when the landscape twisted further in on itself, buzzing like a disturbed wasps nest, and Virgil realized abruptly that this was the first time he’d seen so many feral, newly-created demons in one territory.

A stronger demon was keeping them all in line, like the queen of a hive. And it wasn’t at all pleased about the intrusion.

The slayer seemed to have caught on as well, his sword held aloft in threat. “Looks like the real fight starts now,” he said with a sharp, cocky grin.

Mere minutes later, the smile had grown considerably more strained.

Coincidentally, he’d taken considerably more damage in that time as well.

The slayer had given as good as he got, but against a demon’s healing factor, it wasn’t good enough. He was losing.

“Get out of here!” he instructed, and the baby slayers hesitated, clearly torn. He shot them a dazzling grin, hiding all signs of fatigue even as another blow rattled his sword. “Come now, don’t you know an order when you hear one? I don’t want any distractions while I handle this gruesome ghoul, so back to town with you!”

He cut off any further arguments by pointedly leading his attacker astray, giving them ample time to flee. Virgil felt some of the tension fade from him as the baby slayers got away cleanly, leaving just the slayer and the queen.

Really, he shouldn’t want the slayer to survive. Not when having a slayer that strong anywhere near him, or even in the same country as him, could easily be a death sentence. That didn’t change the jolt of panic that went through him when the queen finally gained the upper hand, knocking the slayer back into sheer cliff face hard enough to snap something.

… A slayer that protected others from demons so wholeheartedly was one that would protect Thomas.

The queen advanced towards the slayer, wounded and weakened but already gloating about how his flesh would be more than enough to completely rejuvenate her. Her entire focus was on the human’s fallen form.

Virgil dropped down on top of her soundlessly, claws piercing through muscle and fat until he’d torn her nearly clear in half. She shrieked in outrage, but a skull-crushing stomp was enough to knock her unconscious for at least a few moments.

The slayer, exhausted, half-crumpled against a tree, and his shoulder very clearly dislocated, looked up at him for a moment with something like hope.

When they met eyes, however, that was swiftly extinguished in favor of wary frustration.

“Another demon?” he complained, trying rather unsubtly to grasp for the sword that the queen had knocked free of him. “Exactly how many monsters can one fit on a single mountain?”

The sword was entirely out of reach, but Virgil kicked it a little further away for good measure. The slayer shot him a petulant glare.

Virgil pointed at a scrap of bloodied cloth left behind from one of the baby slayers, trying out a questioning rumble. Backup coming for you?

“I’m offended that you think I would answer that,” the slayer responded, nose upturned, “or any other monosyllabic interrogative questions, for that matter.”

Virgil growled low in his throat, frustration bubbling up. If he ditched the slayer here without backup, there was no guarantee that someone would find him before the morning came, and Virgil was relatively sure that the demon he’d just stabbed through wasn’t the only threat up here.

Not to mention the cold. He hadn’t thought the nights were cold enough to harm people yet, but demons seemed a lot more durable, and the slayer was shaking just slightly. He remembered the few times he’d had to sit out snowstorms while traveling back home up the mountain, and couldn’t help but feel sympathetic.

So, leaving the slayer behind to fend for himself wasn’t an option. That meant doing something insanely, dangerously stupid: taking the guy with him.

Precautions first, then. He was pretty good at hiding himself from other demons by now, but human scents were a lot more trackable.

Virgil scooped the slayer sword up off the ground by the hilt, grimacing at the burning sensation it emitted. The slayer’s jaw dropped.

“Hey! You can’t just take that!” he cried indignantly, starting off on a tirade about craftsmanship and integrity. His rant cut off sharply as Virgil raised the sword and brought it down on the queen’s neck.

His motions were stilted compared to anyone who actually knew how to use a sword, but it hardly mattered. The sun-blade cut through easily, decapitating her in one motion and leaving only ash behind. He took a moment to hope for the soul of whoever she’d been before being turned, and a longer moment for the weaver’s brother, who was surely dead. Exhaling lowly, he planted the sword blade-first in the dirt.

It was tempting to keep it; he’d certainly wished more than once for an easier way to deal with his adversaries than the bloody scraps he normally got in, but there was no way he was bringing a demon slayer and a demon killing sword with him. That was just asking for trouble.

“That demon did all the work in an honest fight against me, and yet it’s the backstabber turning against his own kind who actually gets to eat me? That’s sad, even for a demon,” the slayer bit out, still trying to inch his way back up into a standing position.

Virgil ignored his muttering and took a testing breath in through his mouth. The slayer was definitely bloodied, but most of the major injuries mustn’t have broken skin, because the smell wasn’t too bad. It probably helped that he’d managed to avoid being injured in this fight, and so didn’t have a desperate need to heal like normal. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t even need a nap to make up for it.

He reached out for the slayer’s collar, already mentally plotting out the most efficient way to a distant abandoned bear den when a piercing shriek sounded, and his vision was suddenly full of flapping feathers. He staggered a few steps back with a surprised yelp.

“No! Missus Fluffybottom, you beautiful fool!” the slayer cried out, sounding incredibly distraught.

Virgil swatted outwards and managed to catch his furious assailant on the second try, his hand easily big enough to grasp it. He drew it away from his face for inspection, and realized that the screaming and wriggling bundle of fluff was actually a young crow.

“Scourge! Fiend!” the crow yelled at him in a belligerent tone that was uncannily similar to the slayer’s. He blinked down at it, befuddled.

“Wait! Don’t hurt her,” the slayer said in the most subdued voice Virgil had heard from him all evening. He looked up and found that the slayer had managed to climb to his knees, but wasn’t struggling to move further. “She’s a simple bird, no threat to you. You’ve already got your prize, haven’t you?”

There was something uncomfortably desperate in his gaze, and Virgil realized with a start that the slayer absolutely believed he was about to kill his bird in cold blood. He opened his hand, bracing for another assault, but the crow kicked off and flew right to the slayer instead, nestling against his collarbone. “Roman, Roman, Ro-man!” it crooned.

“Get out of here, you finicky little fowl, go! Shoo!” the slayer-- Roman?-- commanded, to no avail. He glanced up at Virgil, lifting his good hand and turning his bad shoulder slightly as though to shield the little creature.

Virgil averted his eyes from the bird, hopefully conveying how much he didn’t care about her. If he had enough self control to not murder-kill people despite it being all monsters like him wanted to do, he wasn’t going to snap because a bird the size of his palm repeated some swears in his direction.

Back to business. He grabbed the back of the slayer’s outfit and pulled, hauling him up onto one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. … Or like a sack of other, non-food items. Virgil sighed through his nose. Whatever.

Roman sucked a breath in through his teeth as his injuries were jostled, and then immediately started squawking in protest upon realizing the indignity of his position. The crow-- apparently dubbed Fluffybottom-- repositioned herself to a perch on Roman’s calf and joined in on the complaints with her own raspy calls.

Virgil ignored them, already focusing on the trek ahead.

---

By the time they reached the cave, Roman had long stopped muttering creative obscenities under his breath.

The slayer might have actually fallen unconscious, but Virgil wasn’t going to jostle him around just to check. If he stopped focusing on their surroundings, he could easily hear Roman’s heart beating, the blood pumping beneath his skin, tantalizingly out of reach--

… He had mostly focused very hard on their surroundings. The point was, the slayer was definitely still alive, which meant him passing out during their travel was fine. Convenient, even.

It certainly made it easier to squat and carefully lower his body onto the cave floor without worrying about any sudden thrashing on Roman’s part. Laying flat on his back with only the slightest crumple to his brow, the guy looked a lot less intimidating. He was probably Virgil’s age, honestly.

He also looked unsettlingly corpse-like at the moment. Virgil considered for a moment, and then sidled over to Roman’s side, tugging his injured arm out of the curled up position it had taken. He carefully maneuvered it until it was straight out, forming a right angle with Roman’s side.

Then, he pulled, applying a slow, steady pressure. The misaligned bone shifted back into place with a sickening clunk, and Roman cried out as he regained consciousness. Virgil released him, and he instantly cradled the limb to his chest.

“What in the name of--,” he started, and then seemed to remember it all at once. Or the wave of pain from all those other injuries hit him all at once. One of the two.

Either way, he sagged back against the ground, squinting at Virgil suspiciously as he bustled around the small space. Missus Fluffybottom landed on his forehead, making him look even more ridiculous.

“I notice I am not devoured,” he finally spoke, almost conversational.

Virgil ignored him in favor of moving to arrange some firewood near the mouth of the cave.

“Not even a teensy bit,” Roman continued, making a show of inspecting himself for missing flesh.

Virgil continued to stack rocks around the wood. He was beginning to regret waking the slayer up, dislocated shoulder or not.

“Now, my silent saboteur, I want you to be honest. Are you planning to turn me into some sort of spider?” the slayer asked, and that was enough to finally make Virgil turn with an incredulous raised eyebrow.

“What?” Roman defended, pinkening. “That’s a real thing that a demon did to some people! And you seem... spider-y.”

Virgil scowled at the insulting way the comment was phrased. Spiders were cool and helpful and oh yeah, they didn’t annoyingly needle him while he was busy keeping them alive. He abandoned the fire to stalk closer and drop to a squat by Roman’s legs, dodging a wild kick easily. He pointedly tore a long swath of white fabric from the slayer’s overlayer.

“Hey! Do you even know how long embroidery like that takes--,” Roman cried, and Virgil smacked a hand over his mouth, drawing close and hissing quietly. The sound was close enough to a shush to get his point across, going by the way the slayer huffed indignantly but didn’t speak when Virgil pulled his hand away.

He did whine in protest when Virgil grabbed his injured arm, but then he went still and silent, like he thought any sudden movements would end with the whole limb removed. Virgil wrapped his forearm in the fabric, and then looped the extra around his shoulder, maneuvering him as painlessly as possible, and tied it off.

Roman’s silence suddenly felt distinctly different.

Virgil pulled him up into a sitting position by the front of his shirt, and tightened the knot slightly. The sling looked just about as good as could be expected, given the circumstances.

“You are actually a demon, aren’t you?”

Speech was one of those human things that Virgil still hadn’t recovered, but he thought that the sarcastic fang-bearing smile he directed at Roman spoke volumes all on its own.

“Then why are you tenderly nursing a demon slayer back to health?” he retorted, sounding bewildered and incredulous in equal measures.

Why are you pushing your luck? Virgil thought back, clicking his teeth in irritation and shoving the slayer back into a prone position.

Roman let out a high pitched wheeze, his good arm coming to cradle his ribs defensively. “Or not-so-tenderly, I suppose. The question stands!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and returned to the half-built fire. He’d pestered the only doctor in town for first aid lessons for months, he wasn’t going to stop practicing medicine just because of a little thing like being turned into a demon that craved human flesh.

To his surprise, the silence lingered as he worked, long enough that he turned and cast a suspicious glare over his shoulder at the slayer, who jolted nervously at his attention.

“Wh-what?” he asked, fiddling with the torn edges of his sling. “No escape attempts here, haha!”

“...” Virgil squinted at him and his blatant fake laugh for a long moment, trying to figure out just what was wrong with the scene.

Wait. Where was the bird?

A chill ran down his spine, and he twisted to stare at the mountainside beyond the cave entrance. No raspy-voiced baby crows in sight.

It had to have gone for help, knowing exactly where Virgil and its slayer had holed up. Roman knew he’d realized it, was watching him with the wary expectancy of a cornered hare in front of a trapper.

A surge of furious panic did bubble up in the back of Virgil’s mind, but he quelled it with relative ease.

If backup was coming, then the human was no longer his problem.

Pleased at the neat way the situation had resolved itself, Virgil tapped two fingers to his temple in a gesture of farewell and scrambled out the cave, scaling the cliff face and resolving to put as much distance between himself and this region as possible.

With any luck, he’d never run into that particular slayer again.

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides #ts virgil #demon slayer au #nitwiwd #nothing in this world i wouldnt do #my writing #writing #bthb #ts roman #kny fusion #am i forgetting tags? #im really fond of this one #i hope you guys like it :)

[mythicamagic]

Enemies to Lovers - Sesshoumaru is injured - "Lean on me" prompt

AN: Because there’s a lot of prompts to get through I probably should have/could have spent more time on this one due to the heavy subject matter buuut since in the anime Sesshoumaru only gets 11 episodes to recover from the loss of his arm, I don’t feel too guilty XD

Warning: body trauma

---

Inuyasha's wench had found him around an hour ago. Unlike Rin, she'd deliberated approaching for a few moments. Unsurprising. They were still foes after all. Crimson eyes remained burning, glaring listlessly at her face.

She'd seemed to silently decide something, determination steeling her expression. The yellow nekomata he vaguely recalled belonging to the slayer was her sole companion, who growled at him warningly not to try anything. As if he would.

The miko carried a large cumbersome bag, so he assumed she'd been headed somewhere before running into him within the forest.

Kagome cleaned his wound as best she could, before binding it to try and stop the excessive blood loss. She'd then approached with the beast, proceeding to kneel beside his bloody form. Sesshoumaru remained where he was, reclined against a tree and settled at its base.

Kagome winced, arm secured around his waist after having removed his armour.

"I can't just leave you like this. Lean on me. I'll take your weight enough to move you onto Kirara."

Sesshoumaru turned his head, gazing at nothing.

His lips moved, speaking too softly for her to hear.

"What?"

He repeated himself in a tight voice. "What is the point?"

Kagome stiffened against him. Her heart thudded quicker, fear brushing his senses.

Sesshoumaru allowed his hazy red eyes to dull into empty gold, staring right at the woman.

He could survive a missing arm. Had adjusted his fighting style enough to manage.

But the Killing Perfection could not survive the loss of a leg too. His body would save him from blood loss, but his spirit lay broken, irreparable.

Kagome swallowed loudly, resting a hand on his upper thigh. His leg ended below the knee.

"T-this… it's nothing for you," she mumbled quietly. "You're going to be okay. You'll find a way to walk again."

Sesshoumaru chuckled dryly, resting his head back against the trunk. "Why do you care, wench?" he flashed sharp teeth at her. "We are not allies. Leave me."

"I won't," Kagome moved closer, grabbing a handful of his hankimono. "Listen, I might not be your friend and you've tried to kill Inuyasha more than a few times, but…" her hand shook. "But you're the strongest person I've met. If you fall, then what hope do the rest of us have?" she questioned softly. "Despite myself, I admire people like you and Kikyo. Always so crazy strong."

Sesshoumaru scoffed, gripping her hard by the hair and forcing her head down to look at the stump of his right leg. "Do I look strong to you, miko?" he hissed in her ear.

Kagome braced her hands on his available leg, twisting in his grip to look at him.

Sesshoumaru stilled.

Unshed tears lay in her eyes.

"Yes," she muttered with conviction. "So long as you don't give up now."

Sesshoumaru stared. Inky black hair slowly fell limp around his fingers. He settled back against the tree.

Kagome straightened, winding an arm around his waist again. "At least come with me to find shelter. You can't stay like this out in the open."

Sesshoumaru remained dead weight. He did not see the point in trying.

He could not hope to recover from this.

Kagome tugged and heaved at his body, his mass much too big for her to hope to move.

She sighed with frustration, blowing air at her bangs. "I'll tell Inuyasha about this," she grumbled.

Sesshoumaru blinked, sliding his gaze back to her. "I would kill you before you managed to leave."

Kagome smiled a little, patting his shoulder. "That's better. You look a bit more like yourself when you're threatening someone."

He wanted to snap at her. To snarl and bite the soft looking skin of her neck, frighten her enough to leave.

He was tired. A part of him felt content to die after his pride lay in such shattered tiny pieces.

And yet…

And yet a part of him, instinctive, strong and indomitable, refused to lay down and perish. It appreciated her continued efforts.

The thought of him hobbling about so pathetically was almost too much to bear, but Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, realising very wretchedly that this meant he did not in fact wish to die.

"We can do this," Kagome was muttering, trying to angle him enough to lay on Kirara, who pressed in close, offering assistance.

Sesshoumaru stifled a sigh, making a silent choice. He begrudgingly leaned against her, shifting his remaining leg beneath him.

Kagome gasped, "that's it!" she encouraged, helping him into a crouching position before he fell forward onto the beast. Kagome adjusted his leg, ensuring he was steady, before nodding for Kirara to stand.

Sesshoumaru did not pay attention to their surroundings, the forest passing in a blur.

If he'd just been quicker, the bull demon who had humiliated him would have perished sooner. The beast had produced a second weapon out of thin air, axe cleaving through muscle and bone. All he could do was pull back- lest he lose his entire lower half.

He felt no pain. Surprisingly, everything remained numb. His flesh was cold and clammy, and he lay as if outside of his own body.

Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, lapsing into unconsciousness.

---

The scent of rain stirred his senses.

Sesshoumaru turned his head, finding himself laying down upon a strange futon that resembled a squashed cocoon. The nekomata lay behind him, keeping him warm.

Sesshoumaru blinked. The miko had found them shelter. He soon located her sitting at the mouth of the cave, looking out at the rain while a fire lay in the centre of the cool space.

When she noticed he’d regained consciousness, Kagome rose and offered some water from her strange water container.

She’d changed clothes, donning more unusual clothing Sesshoumaru was unfamiliar with. Her pants clung to her form distractingly.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, hovering close.

He tsked, passing back the water after taking a swig. “Like I have one leg and one arm. How do you think I am feeling, mortal?”

She winced, “shitty.”

“Indeed,” Sesshoumaru lay back down, staring at the cave ceiling soberly.

“Do you want something to eat?” a crunchy noise rustled from her pocket as the woman produced a rectangular bar of some kind.

He couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice, eyeing a picture of the food on its strange packaging. “What is it?”

“A peanut butter and chocolate energy bar,” Kagome winced. “Look I don’t know how to hunt-” he scoffed, “-so this is the best I’ve got. Sorry, your Highness.”

Sesshoumaru sneered, “you may keep it. I do not eat human food. Least of all bizarre creations such as that.”

“Fine but it's your loss.”

His expression became blank, noticing her wince and start apologising for the wording. He wasn’t listening anymore though. The initial shock was beginning to wear off, and now he was more than painfully aware of the shooting pains running up and down the remainder of his leg, from stump to upper thigh. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, refusing to show his discomfort.

“...You’ve used a human arm before,” Kagome said carefully, sitting beside him and crossing her legs. “And what looked like a dragon one. By that logic, you could attach a demon leg to yours, right?”

Sesshoumaru slid his gaze to her, silently thankful for the distraction. The coming agony would be something he’d already dealt with due to the loss of his arm. Phantom limb pain was a real bitch.

“Yes,” he managed, before taking a steadying breath. He managed to arrange his features into something smirking and lofty. “Are you implying you will fetch me a new limb, little miko? How very generous.”

Kagome’s eyes turned flat. “I’m not about to go out and lop off some poor demon’s foot just to help you. But...if…” she said slowly, “if I’m attacked- which happens often because of the jewel shards- maybe I’d…”

Sesshoumaru dropped his smug expression, frowning softly.

The rain continued to pour, pelting the ground hard. It was a sobering reminder that if she’d left him to the mercy of the elements, he’d be in a much worse state.

He ran careful attention over her features. “Why?”

Kagome’s deep blue eyes held his probing stare, not a flicker of deceit in them. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly, “things can’t go back to normal for you right away- or at least, they shouldn’t. You should take the time to recover. I don’t know how the hell you managed to come after us so quickly after losing your arm. It likely wasn’t healthy for you.”

He arched a brow. Repressing every single fibre of the experience and any feelings about the fate that had befallen his left arm had worked wonders for his recovery. Granted it made sleep difficult at times, but none had ever had the audacity to lecture him about his decisions before.

“But- I also don’t want you to be vulnerable to attacks or starvation,” Kagome kept rambling. “Giving you a leg won’t solve everything but it’ll help- ah, are you burning up?” she noticed a bead of sweat roll down his temple, reaching out automatically.

Sesshoumaru snatched it mid-air, pushing up with a burst of speed and yanking Kagome down, simultaneously rolling atop her. Her back hit the ground, punctuated with a squeak from her startled lips.

Silver hair hung down, creating a curtain that blocked out the rest of the world. Those blue eyes widened, breath hitching. Their lower halves pressed intimately together, stomachs meeting as Sesshoumaru leaned closer, using his hand to brace his weight above her. A fire burned within the back of his throat, ancient, tattered pride stinging. He found that he resented her slightly. Resented her for seeing him so weak. It hadn’t mattered when Rin had found him wounded. A battered child had no relation to him. But this girl, Kagome- was an enemy. She should not have seen him thus.

“Do I seem so very vulnerable to you?” he asked in a hushed voice, mouth inches from hers. The fire crackled, rain pouring. Her breathing sounded a touch quicker, heartbeat loud in his ears. Drumming.

Against all logic, he felt her body relax beneath his. She even smiled a little, “no,” she muttered.

“Is something amusing?”

“I’m just glad you proved me wrong. I’d rather you kept acting like a jerk than look so...defeated like you did earlier,” Kagome gave a nervous giggle, gesturing between them, “uh...if you could let me up now though that would be great.”

She tried to rise, but he let more of his weight sink down upon her soft, warm body. “No, I do not think I will.”

Kagome gasped, drawing a knee up and inadvertently opening her legs, allowing him to fit snugly against her. If he hadn’t lost a limb several hours earlier that same day and wasn’t experiencing agonising, blinding pain, Sesshoumaru had to say, the feeling was enough to make him...consider something previously thought impossible between himself and humans.

As it was, he hissed a breath through grit teeth, the stump licking phantom flames of blazing fire around the wound.

“Sesshoumaru? Sesshoumaru!”

He shuddered, trying to prevent himself from crushing her beneath his weight, arm shaking.

It hurt. It suddenly hurt like hell- and nothing was working. No distraction could take him from the blistering, lonely, maddening sensation that holy fuck his leg was missing. He wanted to do something as meaningless as wriggle his toes and he could not-

Suddenly, her arms were around him. Pleasant fresh scents assaulted his fractured senses, citrusy and clean. Kagome pulled him down while rolling herself, flipping their positions.

“I don’t have anything for the pain,” her voice strained apologetically. She quickly moved off him, but Sesshoumaru wasn’t paying attention anymore. He panted, temples pounding. His body shook, pain shooting through the nerve endings in the remainder of his leg.

Something cold and wet lay over his marked forehead. Cracking the burning suns of pained golden eyes open, he watched Kagome adjust the cold compress, before checking his leg.

“You heal quick, but you need new bandages. M-maybe that’ll help until I can go home for painkillers,” she muttered, grabbing her bag and digging through it.

Sesshoumaru panted softly, seizing the fretting miko’s wrist.

“Your...scent,” he grunted.

“What?”

If he were sober he’d never request something so undignified, but Sesshoumaru kept talking, somewhat delirious now that all sense of shock had worn off. “Come here...again. I want your scent.”

Kagome’s shocked features were lost to him as the Daiyoukai hissed, squeezing his eyes shut.

The scent of citrus returned after a moment. Soft, curling locks of dark hair brushed his nose as Kagome gingerly embraced him.

Sesshoumaru wrapped an arm around her shoulders, burying his face into the black fall of citrus-scented strands. He lost himself to instinct, gripping onto the stable, pleasant sensations that took the form of Inuyasha’s wench. She let out a tense breath but soon relaxed against him, verbally assuring Kirara when the nekomata growled.

For the second time that day, Sesshoumaru unwillingly lost the battle for consciousness.

----

She was gone by the time he awoke in the morning, but the nekomata remained. She growled and hissed softly whenever he looked at the beast for longer than necessary. Kagome left a note, explaining that she’d be back soon.

Sesshoumaru had little to do except wait. The pain had become a continuous throb, which was easier to deal with but equally as irritating, exhausting him.

When Kagome returned several hours later, she produced wrapped pieces of cooked chicken from her bag, cheerfully explaining that she’d returned home. Sesshoumaru turned his nose up slightly at the food.

“I would have preferred the bird...raw.”

“Wait like freshly dead?”

“Alive, favourably.”

Kagome gaped, leaving the lunchbox with him. “That's terrible!”

Sesshoumaru stared at her flatly, opening his mouth and drawing out his tongue, transforming his features into something more monstrous and canine while placing the food into his mouth and eating it in one quick snap of his jaws. “Demon,” he muttered pointedly.

She rolled her eyes and let him finish his meal in peace.

---

They fell into an odd routine of planned visits for several days, talking about the strange things she brought back from home. He came to learn she was from the Future, of all places. They discussed its advanced technologies while she bandaged his leg.

He suspected the miko felt some sense of responsibility for him now. The thought set his teeth on edge, mildly humiliated.

When he brought up the subject of his vassal, ward and steed, Kagome shrugged and told him they’d been accepted into Inuyasha’s group for the time being. They worried about his continued absence and Inuyasha complained about having to share a space with Jaken, but bared with it. Not one person knew about his situation except Kagome, for which he was thankful.

By the end of five days though, Sesshoumaru needed to move. He began by pulling himself along the ground via his hand and knee, which proved awkward but not impossible. Next came standing, which- after many failed attempts- he finally managed to do, gripping onto the cave wall.

Walking was impossible, of course. And by the time Sesshoumaru realised the very sobering truth that he’d have to hop everywhere the rest of his life or walk with the use of a cane or crutch unless he could grab a demon leg- he wondered why he’d bothered moving at all.

“You’re standing!”

Dulled golden eyes slid to the miko, who stood at the mouth of the cave. In her arms was a large sack faintly marred with blood, and he could tell from the wrinkle of her nose exactly what it was. Surprise slammed into his gut.

“Miko-”

Kagome set the bundle down, hurrying over and steadying him when he tipped too much to one side. “Are you alright? You should be resting-”

“Give me the leg, miko.”

Kagome fell silent, eyeing his stump. He’d stopped needing bandages two days ago. She didn’t protest, merely looking at him carefully. “Are you sure?”

Sesshoumaru leaned against her, allowing her to help ease him down into a sitting position. He briefly touched her cheek, gliding a thumb there and watching it redden. His heart thudded with gladness. “I am sure.”

She nodded, soon bringing the bloodied sack over. She explained that he’d gotten lucky, as while the first two demons they’d faced in a group of three had been too large and bulky to fit his build, the third had been smaller. Inuyasha had been extremely disturbed and suspicious when she’d asked him to hack their leg off once all three were dead.

“It’s not been easy, avoiding his questions, you know. He’s tried to follow me here more than once. I managed to convince him that this leg was for my weird Grandpa.”

Sesshoumaru blinked, finding himself watching her instead of studying the leg as it was revealed to him. The miko had been astronomically helpful and considerate in all the ways one could to a demon lord. His chest felt strange. Warm, upon realising the extent of her actions for his sake.

“Well, do you like it?”

Sesshoumaru jolted, focusing on the red-scaled leg laying before him. From its scent, he knew it to be from a lizard demon. Not his first choice, but this was no time to be picky. Sesshoumaru grabbed it and pressed the severed end to his stump after aligning it. He didn’t so much as flinch as muscle and bone wove together, the process over in seconds. Kagome gaped with amazement.

When he moved to stand, she quickly assisted, pulling him to his feet. Sesshoumaru took a step and staggered, looking downwards.

Ah.

Kagome’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh. Oh no...it's too short isn’t it?”

The height was off by a few inches.

He made to reply- before stiffening, scenting salt. “Why are you crying about it, foolish woman?”

“I-I’m sorry,” she waved it off, some tears escaping down her cheeks before she roughly brushed them away. “I just wanted it to be perfect but now you’re kind of...tilted.”

Despite the situation, a smile tugged at his mouth. A noise bubbled up from the back of his throat, escaping as a quiet laugh.

Kagome froze, tears clinging to her lashes.

“It is fine, miko. More than...fine.”

Sesshoumaru held onto the wall for support, feeling the bite of putting weight onto the leg, his stump flaring. It would take time for his body to adjust. Despite this, his warrior heart filled with purpose again, powers working to heal him. Just having the ability to walk after having it stolen away renewed his spirits.

Kagome watched him with a smile, occasionally offering aid but largely keeping her hands off. He could sense various soft emotions rolling off her in waves. Admiration, relief and something else. Something he could not name. It remained untouched and unnamed long after he left the cave behind one afternoon.

He had no writing utensils to leave a note, instead carefully tearing out a segment of his sleeve, leaving the red and white flower symbol of his family crest for her to find.

---

Kagome panted hard, catching her breath and folding down into a crouch, gripping her bow tight.

“Are you alright, Kagome?” Rin asked, closely followed by Shippo as they approached from Ah-Un, having kept away from the random attack on the village. Thankfully the hoard of boar demons had finally been dealt with, but Kagome’s nerves were shot to hell after racing around so much, trying to protect villagers.

“I-I’m fine, guys, thanks,” she smiled, looking between them both. The orphans had bonded quickly, and she felt a surge of warmth, happy they had a companion their age to talk with. It had been two weeks since she’d last seen Sesshoumaru since his disappearance, and while she loved having Rin around, it did make her worry. Sesshoumaru always returned to his group. Where had he run off too?

Maybe he went to find a better leg, she thought, taking the children’s hands and walking towards Miroku- who was helping up an old man from where he’d fallen. Perhaps he needed time to get used to walking on what’s essentially a prosthetic.

For humans- such a thing took up to one year. Demons really are something else.

Kagome’s lips curved, picturing the burning, determined gaze of the Daiyoukai.

Or rather, Sesshoumaru is something else.

“Kagome, look out!” Miroku yelled.

Jerking, Kagome sensed a lone boar youkai barrelling towards her through the forest, knocking trees aside. It was quicker than anticipated- and despite Kagome grabbing the children and trying to run out of its way, it charged straight for her, grunting, throwing its head wildly.

People were screaming her name, but they were too far away. Kagome twisted her body, pushing the kids aside and in order for her to take the brunt of the hit-

Red light exploded to life, consuming the boar demon before it could reach them. Hide and blood were caught up in the attack, leaving Kagome mercifully free from the boar's flying carnage.

She panted, shaking a little and gazing at the steaming remains of the demon. A pale figure floated to the ground, landing elegantly.

“Lord Sesshoumaru!” Rin cried happily.

“Lord Sesshoumaru?!” Jaken’s distant yell could be heard.

Kagome straightened, heart doing a funny thing in her chest. She immediately looked at his leg- finding him clad in white hakama pants and black boots. The same as always.

Blue eyes widened. He appeared completely unchanged. Somehow, he must’ve found an inhuman demon and took their leg so that he could masquerade as his usual self.

His tiny group circled around him joyously, while Kagome’s friends gathered together a little ways away. Inuyasha’s ears pinned back to his head with displeasure.

Jaken hopped up and down. “Where have you BEEN, mi lord!”

“Nowhere."

“Tch, bastard,” grumbling, Inuyasha raised his voice a touch. “Hey- you could at least thank us for babysitting your damn group while you were probably out doing power-hungry shit.”

Sesshoumaru’s gaze slid over the Hanyou dismissively, stopping on Kagome. Her breathing hitched.

“I am not here to thank you, Inuyasha.”

Kagome remained frozen as a shadow fell over her face, his head of silver hair blocking out the sun. Golden eyes replaced the burning circle in the sky, blazing and intent. Slit pupils pinned her in place.

She was vaguely aware of her friends exclaiming in surprise and alarm, thinking he meant to harm her. The sound of Inuyasha drawing his sword was enough to make her mutter ‘sit boy’ absentmindedly, paying no attention to his subsequent impact with the ground.

Sesshoumaru raised a hand, resting pale knuckles against her cheek in a slow drag down to her jaw, skin cool, clashing against her warmth. White lashes lowered, becoming half-mast.

“You’re okay?” she breathed.

“Hn, I merely needed some time,” Sesshoumaru’s low rumble melted her insides.

She cleared her throat, cheeks tinging red because of his proximity, his dark youki brushing her senses, his touch- his everything. Reaching into her pocket, she produced the segment of his clothing, the pattern of his clan. “Did you want this back-?”

“Keep it,” he closed her fingers over it, catching her eye. “You have my loyalty for what you have done for this one, miko. Keep it,” he said softer.

Kagome nodded slowly, opening her mouth to ask more-

Firm lips slanted over her own. Stiffening, she became deaf to her friend’s even louder exclamations of surprise, Miroku quietly voicing his awe, impressed.

The miko inhaled sharply through her nose, feeling Sesshoumaru’s mouth move, brushing against her own in several lingering kisses. Blushing, it took a moment for Kagome to get over her stupefaction. But then she pressed a little closer, kissing him back perhaps a little nonsensically. But it felt right. Her toes curled at the feel of him.

A low groan rumbled in his throat and his lips softened against hers, mouth parting to brush his sinuous tongue against hers.

Kagome shivered and wondered if he could hear how her heart hammered in her chest. His palm felt steady upon her back, arm encircling her waist. When they finally pulled away, their lips lingered close.

“What...what was that?” she breathed, cheeks flushed.

Sesshoumaru’s lips quirked, “that was this Sesshoumaru conveying my deep sense of gratitude, miko.”

“Funny way of thanking someone, but I’ll take it,” Kagome’s eyes glittered. She could think about the consequences of such an action later. For now, she was content to hold his gaze and keep his secret safe- for however long the prideful Daiyoukai needed.

#sesskag #sesshoumaru x kagome #sesshoumaru #kagome higurashi #sesskag fanfiction #enemies to lovers vibes

[slashyrogue]

My Current Patreon Exclusives

Hannigram A/B/O AU: A Pleasant Surprise - 2/? - DUAL POV *NEW*

tags: alpha beta omega, surprise dad will, omega hannibal, bottom hannibal, pining, jealousy, misunderstandings 

When Hannibal announces he’s expecting a child via sperm donation Will is shocked to learn just where his donation came from and is desperate to learn if the sample he was told was inviable may lead to the only child he’ll ever have. 

Though Hannibal soon finds himself desperate to take advantage of the situation and make the family he didn’t know he always wanted. 

Spacedogs A/B/O AU: Desperate Heat - 11/? - NIGEL POV *NEW*

tags: alpha beta omega, heat sex, true mates, mutual pining, misunderstandings, mpreg, surprise pregnancy, fake boyfriends, jealousy, friends with benefits, nigel is a good alpha but he thinks he’s not good enough for Adam, alpha nigel, omega adam, bottom adam, top nigel

Every year there was a line out the door for the biggest event of the year.

The Heat Auction.

Nigel has worked the event for five years now, six if you count when he worked it back in Bucharest, and he’s never been affected by a single omega who came looking to get on stage. 

That is...until Adam Raki. 

Hannigram AU: The Alpha Next Door - 33/? - WILL POV 

tags: physical and verbal abuse by parent, mentions of rape by parent but no actual rape by anyone, alpha beta omega, mpreg, younger man/older man, gaslighting, serial killer hannibal, emergency room surgeon Hannibal, sad younger will, praise, unhealthy attachment, murder - WILL POV

Seventeen year old Will has not yet presented but can feel it coming soon and knows that he’s going to be an omega. His abusive father hates omegas because of his mother who left them, so Will isolates himself away from any alpha influence hoping to stretch out his first heat until after he’s turned eighteen. It’s just his luck that a good looking, single alpha doctor moves in next door and he’s immediately drawn to this stranger even before meeting him. His urges and slick begin to worsen as he stays away from this alpha until a chance encounter throws everything into a tailspin.

Hannigram AU: Worth the Trouble - 21/21 - BOOK ONE (expansion on my AU-Gust 2021 - Gangs AU) - WILL POV 

Hannigram AU: Worth the Trouble - 3/? - BOOK TWO 

tags: talk of abuse by parent, panic attacks, talk of past trauma by parent, pining, slow burn, younger man/older man, mafia type au, hannibal extended universe character appearances, alternate universe, animal injuries, other addtional tags to be added - WILL POV 

There was an unspoken rule no one talked about in Wolf Trap, yet everyone knew.

If you need help, go to Dr. Lecter.

Which is why a broken, bloody, nineteen year old Will Graham goes directly to him kills his abusive father. From that moment forward Will Graham pledged his allegiance to Dr. Lecter, even as he pined deeply to be closer to him, and kept himself at a distance. 

He had no idea that ten years later he’d be part of Hannibal’s inner circle, and in his bed. 

The story of how he got there, well, that’s a very interesting indeed. 

Hannigram AU: I See You - 29/? (expansion on my AU-gust 2020 - Rockband AU) - Hannibal POV 

Tags: singer will graham, serial killer hannibal lecter, younger man/older man, additional tags to be added, love at first sight, phone calls, kisses

Like any good love story, this one starts out with a mistake.

Hannibal’s mistake is changing the radio station in his car on the way home from a hunt, and landing on a rock station. CNBL 201.3 is not his preferred listening genre, but he voice coming through the speakers is haunting. 

Soon he’s listening to all “This is My Design” has ever recorded and falling in love with the voice of the singer, a beautiful young man named Will Graham. When they share a chance encounter it changes both their lives in more ways than one. 

Hannigram AU: A Husband for Christmas - 36/? - WILL POV 

tags: fluff, hallmark movie-ish, kidfic, billionaire Hannibal Lecter, single dad Will, pining, first kisses

Will Graham is a high school teacher who is struggling with money to give his five year old daughter Emma a decent Christmas. He takes her to see Santa at the mall one busy Saturday and after standing in line way too long Emma needs to use the bathroom. 

Which is when he meets Mr. Hannibal Lecter, billionaire CEO of Lord & Lecter stores, who lets them use his private bathroom and gives Emma a special private session with the mall Santa. 

Will is extremely grateful, and very attracted to the man entirely too out of his league. He leaves expecting never to see him again. 

And wakes up on Christmas morning to a mountain of presents outside his door. Soon he’s seeing much more of Hannibal than he ever thought possible, and desperately trying not to fall in love. 

Hannigram AU: Mr. Lecter - 13/? 

an A/B/O regency inspired by the movie Mrs. Winterbourne

tags: mistaken identity, identity theft, pining, angst, omega Will, alpha Hannibal, pregnant Will, true mates, lies, romance

featuring: Simonetta Lecter, Adam Raki, Matthew Brown

Unmated, pregnant Will Graham is rejected by his secret lover Matthew and is crying in the street unable to think of what might become of him when a fancy carriage comes up  and changes his life. 

The alpha and omega inside are on their way home, newly mated, and named Lucas and Aiden. Lucas is a Lecter, and offers to give him money if he’s throw out by his father. He writes down his name, and Will is grateful when they insist on giving him a ride home. 

Moments later they’re attacked by highwaymen who demand money and Will watches in horror as both Lucas and Aiden are murdered before his eyes. He faints, waking up in a fancy room, and the woman who greets him calls him “Aiden.” 

Will looks down at his hand and sees the ring that Aiden gave him to view moments before they were attacked. 

He knows he shouldn’t. 

But soon he answers back to the name. 

Aiden. 

The woman, who introduces herself as ‘Mother’ tells him how happy she is to that he lived, he knows this is what he should do for him and his child. But then in walks a man the spitting image of Lucas, and just as ‘Mother’ introduces them he’s told this is Hannibal, Lucas’s twin. 

And Will can smell him from across the room. 

Hannibal is his true mate. 

And he knows, without a doubt, that he can never tell him. 

Can he resist the pull he has toward Hannibal? 

Or will he keep his ruse as he helps ‘Mother’ find Hannibal a suitable match and break his heart forever? 

Hannigram AU: Untitled Coffee Shop A/B/O - 6/? - WILL POV - a continuation of my Coffee Shop AU-gust Day 9 

tags: younger man, older man, alpha beta omega dynamics, omega Hannibal, alpha Will, bottom Hannibal, top Will, mpreg, mating bites, true mates

Will Graham was thirty one years old, unmated, and shockingly…unpresented. 

It made for a very bleak dating history, mostly people who wanted to trigger his presentation and ended up extremely disappointed or angry they didn’t. 

So when he decided to just give it up for good and live his life alone he was a little sad but resigned to his fate. Then fate pushed him in another direction. 

His friend Bev got tickets to the ballet in town, and Will reluctantly goes not expecting to enjoy himself at all. 

And goes into his very first rut, coming out an alpha, at the sight of the lead dancer, a young omega named Hannibal Lecter. 

He ignored Bev when she demanded he go find Hannibal, talking about true mates and crazy ideas like that, and is shocked when he’s visiting Bev at her coffee shop job and in walks the omega of his dreams. 

Hannibal’s instant attraction makes him run but fate brings them together again. 

Hannibal is flattered when Will confesses he presented because of him, and soon they’re barely able to keep their hands off each other? 

Can they overcome their differences or will Will’s worry that Hannibal is way too out of his league and ruin things forever? 

Hannigram AU: Marry Me - 18/? - WILL POV 

tags: fluff, so much fluff, love at first sight, engaged at first sight, did I mention the fluff? 

Will Graham is nervous. He’s about to ask his girlfriend Molly to marry him at a restaurant he can hardly pay for and doesn’t want to mess it up. He notices a man in a checkered suit right near their table, the most handsome man he’s ever seen, but pulls himself away to finally pop the question. 

Molly says no and runs off. 

He’s humiliated, on the verge of a panic attack, when the man in the suit comes over to calm him down. 

He introduces himself as Dr. Hannibal Lecter, and when the night is over Will is asking Hannibal to marry him. 

Will their journey end in a happy ending? 

Or have they both made a big mistake? 

Spacedogs AU: Marry You - 19/? - ADAM POV 

tags: fluff, love at first sight, angst, engaged at first sight, stalking but not from mains, some violence

Adam Raki is nervous. He’s about to ask his girlfriend Beth to marry him at a restaurant he doesn’t even want to be in but he knows she’ll like because he’s expensive. He sits at the bar as he waits for her to come, and the bartender - a very attractive man named Nigel - gives him a free drink and Adam finds himself unable to look away. 

When Beth comes she pulls him away and they sit, but Adam is distracted even more nervous now. He ends up going outside to get air after Beth makes a rude remark and finds Nigel taking a smoke break and drops the ring box onto the pavement. Nigel sees it, and Adam feels worse but goes back inside to find Beth even angrier. 

So he asks her to marry him anyway. 

And she says no, leaving him, and he’s shaking ready to have a panic attack when Nigel comes to his rescue. 

Before the night is over Nigel asks Adam to ask him the same question he asked Beth. 

Nigel says yes. 

featuring an angry Gabi  - determined to stop them from marrying - and many more. 

Hannigram AU: Fresh Meat - 11/? - WILL POV 

Inspired by the movie Fresh

Will is driving home late from a night out with his best friend Beverly when he remembers he needs dog food. He sees the only store open is a fancy grocer and goes inside, where he meets a very handsome man named Hannibal Hannibal is charming, flirty, and when Will leaves he finds no one at the counters but Hannibal tells him to just leave the money so he does. 

Minutes later he steps outside and blacks out from a hit on the back of his head only to wake up in chains. 

There are screams echoing all around him, and when Hannibal comes in he gives Will his food and tells him to “be good.” One of the other captives next door tells Will he’s going to die there, and soon he realizes that Hannibal isn’t just killing his captives. 

He’s selling the meat. 

Or at least the meat he doesn’t eat himself. 

Will soon realizes that Hannibal has a soft spot for him, and knows if he wants to live he’s going to have to get closer to his captor. 

But can he get close enough without falling into Hannibal’s arms and never wanting to let go? 

Hannigram AU: Stray - 10/? - WILL POV 

tags: fluff, stray hoarding, Hannibal is a cat person, Will is a dog person, pining, friends to lovers, serial killer Hannibal - but he kills bad people who are mean to kitties and puppies, oblivious Will, more fluff, cannibalism 

They met completely by accident. 

Will was out roaming, looking for strays, when he came upon an expensive car pulled to the side of the road. He wasn't stupid enough to get out, knowing what type of fate could await him, so he just drove on. 

But when hours later he headed home with a new stray, Winston, in his passenger seat eating treats, he spotted the same car. 

And pulled over. 

He found a man with holding a kitten with the door open, and when the man looks up Will finds it hard to look away. 

He tells Will his name, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, and he tells Will he saves stray cats all the time just like Will does dogs. When Will offers to call him if he sees any stray cats and they exchange numbers, he has no idea he’s just changed his life or that the ‘pork’ Hannibal offers his dog isn’t pork. 

Though when Will takes a bite it’s the best meat he’s ever tasted. 

It’s the first human meat Will’s ever tasted. 

It won’t be his last. 

Hannigram AU: Bump in the Night - 9/? - Will POV - AU-gust continuation of Day 7 - Science Fantasy 

tags: monsters, monster Hannibal, human Will, monster under my bed, murder, descriptions of murder, angst, monster fucking, unhealthy relationship, romance, crying

Will had, for as long as he could remember, always heard a voice. 

It began quietly when he was young, almost a whisper. 

Hello. 

His parents never told him about voices, or made him think he should have one, so he didn’t tell them. He answered the voice back, curious about why it was there, and that’s how his relationship with Hannibal began. 

Just one word. 

Hi

Hannigram AU: The Nanny - 4/? - Will POV

tags: younger man older man, kidfic, reluctant Nanny Will, doctor Hannibal, Mischa loves Will, mystery, murder, angst

Will’s father tells him as soon as he turns eighteen that he’s gotta move out so he’s desperate to find a decent job. He leaves every morning to put in applications but gets no response so he turns to childcare.

He finds a really high paying job, live in, that expects experience so Will lies.

The very same day while riding his back between putting in applications he gets hit by a car belonging to Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Hannibal is the nicest and best looking man Will’s ever met, and he finds himself unable to stop staring even when Hannibal’s little sister runs in when he drops Will off homemade food at the hospital.

Will goes home the next morning and sees he’s got an interview.

He takes his Dad’s car this time, leaving his bike, and is shocked to see Hannibal step out of the room.

Hannibal’s sister is the one needing a nanny, and despite Will lying on his application Hannibal offers him the job.

Soon he’s trying his best to make Mischa happy while fighting off his feelings for her brother, who seems to not want to talk much about his past.

Or Mischa’s very first nanny who seems to have disappeared when she left their house.

What exactly is Hannibal hiding?

And when Will finds out, will he go missing too?

Spacedogs AU : Starry Eyed - 20/20 - COMPLETE - ADAM/NIGEL ALTERNATING POVs

The first time Nigel meets Adam it’s because he accidentally breaks into his apartment.

He becomes infatuated, watching Adam from afar and even sending gifts until his attention catches the eye of his biggest rival: Jean Duran, AKA LeChiffre who casually threatens Adam’s life.

So then second time he meets Adam is when he breaks into his apartment on purpose in order to kidnap him.

He forces Adam into his car, driving them off to a remote cabin, and hopes LeChiffre forgets.

Nigel isn’t expecting anything else, not when Adam hates him.

But soon he gets it anyway.

Can their romance survive the way it began or will Nigel’s enemies come to call costing him more than he’s ever expected?

Hannigram AU: The Baby Bargain - 28 chapters COMPLETE - WILL POV

Tags: younger man/older man, surrogate will graham, alpha hannibal lecter, college student will graham, pining, serial killer hannibal lecter, baby murder husband will graham, alpha beta omega, love confessions

Eighteen year old college student Will loses his scholarship on his first day of school and goes to his counselor who tells him there’s nothing she can do. He runs into another student by chance who tells him about “Omegas Wanted” where omegas offer themselves as surrogates to couples who can’t conceive for money. Will puts himself up there because he really doesn’t want kids and it seems an easy way to make the money he needs. He gets a reply from Dr. Hannibal Lecter, who is a single alpha that wants to have a child. The minute Will meets him he’s drawn to the older alpha and yet he says yes. As the months progress Will begins to realize he’s made a huge mistake and yet he knows he can’t say anything to Hannibal. He can get through this, right?

Hannigram AU: Donor - 12 chapters COMPLETE - Will POV 

Season One AU

Tags: Not A Serial Killer Hannibal, Sad Will Graham, pining, so much pining, heat sex, alpha beta omega, angst, short chapters, misunderstandings, happy ending

Omega Will mentions he’s had his monthly appointment where he’s been told his last fertile years are almost at an end. Alpha Hannibal offers to donate sperm so Will can have the child he desires. When he fails to get pregnant by insemination during his heat Will gives into the growing need and tells Hannibal he needs more. After Will realizes he’s finally pregnant his upset about the whole thing only grows because he’s pining for someone who doesn’t want him. Can he get through the next nine months without telling Hannibal how he truly feels or will he face possible rejection?

#hannigram au #my patreon #patreon exclusives #all my sons

[maxwell-grant]

Jumping off from my previous question/suggestion, might I please ask if there are any superheroes you think would make fine Pulp Villains and any Supervillains you think would make convincing Pulp Heroes?

I'm gonna go ahead and remark that I'd personally suggest to anyone who's trying to create pulp characters inspired by superheroes (which would be probably about 90% of you who may want to do that sort of thing) to flip the script around a little. As in, don't try to create pulp analogues to the Justice League/Avengers upfront, but play around with some of the lesser-known icons and filter those through your idea of what “pulp” means (which is gonna be quite different than my own or anyone else’s). 

I’m not gonna really mention characters I’ve already talked about before like Vandal Savage or Namor, instead I’ll pick new ones and see what can be highlighted about them.

Regarding “Superheroes who could make fine/convincing Pulp Villains”, even though he’s a character I've read basically nothing on, Martian Manhunter definitely leaped out to me as an obvious option. He’s a Sci-Fi Superman who takes the first half of the name to an extreme that borders on comical, except he’s not a square-jawed white man, he’s a 1.000 year old green alien from Mars with shapeshifting powers who can look as monstrous as the artist desires. He’s the product of an advanced civilization and genetic modification, and on top of the Flying Brick powerset and shapeshifting, he also has incredibly powerful and extensive telepathic abilities, he can become invisible, phaze through matter, use telekinesis and other weird abilities. A lot of pulp stories closer to sci-fi were based around the idea of taking one of these abilities and extrapolating horrific consequences for them, and J’onn has those by the dozens. He also has an extremely mundane weakness that would allow him to be beaten by Macready with a blowtorch if that’s where the story ended.

He was also a law enforcement officer from Mars who became a police detective and it’s even right there in his name, and again, I have never read anything he’s in (I should probably pick the Orlando mini), I know he’s for all intents and purposes a generally nice man who tends to job a lot in crossovers and cartoons, but the idea of taking all those great vast and horrifying alien powers, combining all of them into a single character who also happens to be the last survivor of a doomed planet (and one who actually lived through it’s collapse), and then making that character a former cop trying to resume his work on Earth? 

That is a Pulp Supervillain begging to happen, and a particularly horrifying one at that. And hey, speaking of The Thing-

Now, Plastic Man’s potential for horror has already been explored quite a bit in some of the darker DC continuities like Injustice and DCeased, and it’s quite funny seeing a lot of these turn Plastic Man into The Thing because there were quite a handful of Wold Newton pages that ran with the idea that Macready from the original story was Doc Savage, and that the secret chemicals that Eel O’Brian was hit by that gave him his powers were actually samples of The Thing contained in one of Savage’s labs. Regardless, the idea of a former street crook suddenly gaining bizarre shapeshifting abilities that allow him to reign terror on his gangster associates could make for a great premise as a pulp crime story that veers into horror as the gangsters gradually figure out what is Eel O’Brian’s deal, and then the story can take a more tragic turn.

The thing about Jack Cole’s Plastic Man that modern takes on the character neglect is that, while Plas was a lively roguish anti-hero (arguably the first of it’s kind in comics), he’s still for intents and purposes “the straight man” (HA, right, Plastic Man being “straight”). He’s the relatively sane hero who plays off Woozy’s wackier misadventures and the imaginative madness that Jack Cole paints his adventures with, and it makes for an interesting contrast considering Plastic Man is already a weird character, having to ramp up the strangeness of the world around him so that he still remains the sane man. There are ways to twist this into something quite horrifying, even tragic for Plastic Man as he either struggles to maintain coherency, or embraces the shifting chaos the world’s spiraling into for better or worse (and definitely for the worse towards those on the receiving end of his vengeance, or even his humor).

Now, onto the flipside, regarding Supervillains that could become Pulp Heroes -

Normally I’d not mention the Batman villains here, because I already have a lot to talk about in regards to them as is, they comprise some of my favorite comic characters, but I pretty much have to make an exception for Two-Face in this topic, as not only a pretty obvious option but one with even case studies to prove it, as not only do we have The Black Bat, a 1930s costumed pulp hero with an identical origin story and several other conceptual overlaps with Batman, as well as The Whisperer, a young hotshot police commissioner who dresses up as a disfigured vigilante to kill criminals without consequence (and who’s somehow less of a maniacal asshole in his secret identity than in his regular one), but it turns out that there actually was a 1910s pulp hero called The Two-Faced Man:

Crewe was created by “Varick Vanardy,” the pseudonym of Frederic van Rensselaer Dey (Nick Carter, Doctor Quartz), and appeared in three short stories and two novels and short story collections from 1914 to 1919, beginning with “That Man Crew” (The Cavalier, Jan. 24, 1914). 

Crewe is “The Two-Faced Man.” 

He is in his forties and has gray hair and a “sharply cut and handsome profile—until one caught a view of the other side of his face and saw the almost hideous blemish that nearly covered it, and which graduated in corrugated irregularity from a delicate pink to repulsive purple.” 

Crewe is two-faced in another way. Crewe is a saloon owner in below Washington Square. But he has another identity: Birge Moreau, portraitist and socialite hanger-on. Crewe uses both his identities to solve crimes as an amateur detective.

The only person to know about both of Crewe’s identities is a police inspector who is also Crewe’s friend and who Crewe helps in pressing cases - The Encyclopedia of Pulp Heores by Jess Nevins

And speaking of obvious picks for Supervillains turned Pulp Heroes,

Assuming I even need to make a case for Kraven the Hunter other than just presenting this cropped panel from Squirrel Girl and in particular the art painted on the Kra-Van, or even just telling you to read Squirrel Girl and it’s take on “The Unhuntable Sergei” (I had no idea most of the people saying “Kraven’s arc in Squirrel Girl is as good if not better than Kraven’s Last Hunt” weren’t actually joking in the slightest and I speak as someone who has Kraven among their absolute favorite Marvel characters, it had no right being that good), I’m going to quote the brilliant Rogue’s Review from The Mindless Ones that lays down in painstaking detail why Kraven could make a killer protagonist in that horrifically over-the-top pulp fashion

One thing that strikes me writing this, is how well Kraven could hold his own comic. There’s always room for a book spotlighting a ruthless, hardcore, gentleman bastard, and Kraven’s raison d’etre makes him supremely versatile, so well suited to any genre, any environment. It’s odd that more writers haven’t jumped on the fact that in a universe where off-world travel is possible – indeed, common – a hunter like Kraven would have a field day. 

I can just imagine the opening scene – herds of weird cthuloid bat creatures grazing in the gloomy green nitrogen fields, bathed in lethal, bone splintering fog, when, suddenly, LIGHT! from above and an unholy bellowing: “CTHGRGN fthgrgnARAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHGN!”

They look up in fear and then they start to run – ploughing into and over each other, tentacles flailing, as from the space-ship’s docking bay Kraven silently plummets, barely dressed for the cold, a glowing knife smothered in elder signs jammed between his teeth. 

You should have seen him one night previous, sipping alien tokay around the Captain’s table with the other guests, discussing the morning’s hunt; and the way he insulted the Skrull dignitary by forgetting himself and accidentally sporting his favourite piece of formal wear: his boiling unstable dinner-jacket of many colours, fashioned from the hide of one of the Ambassador’s super kinsmen.

Whoops!

Midway through Kraven explaining how the best way to irreparably damage a symbiote is to wait until its bonded with you and then seriously maim yourself, the Skrull decided it might be a good idea to simmer down, while his beautiful Inhuman lover hung on every word.

The deeper I get into this the more convinced I am that the MU’s hunter-killer extraordinaire wouldn’t limit himself to bloody planet Earth. And neither would he limit himself to this dimension, or universe or timeline. The guy’d be just as at home leaping, sword raised, onto the back of a T-Rex in the Savage Land, as he would be ploughing through werewolves in the graveyards of Arkham or tracking a howling Demon across Mephistopheles’ realm. 

He’d work perfectly in all these environments because he has a damn good reason to be casting a bloody swathe through them: wherever there’s big game, you’ll find Kraven.

The next choice I guess is an oddball, but not that much of an oddball if you know already what is my main frame of reference towards Marvel

I don’t think people appreciate enough that the main reason Shuma-Gorath has anything resembling a fanbase has nothing whatsoever to do with the comics he was in, but entirely because, when Capcom designers had a list of Marvel characters to pick from to work on Marvel Super Heroes, they took a look at the diet Cthulhu and went “gimme THAT one”, and then went all-in in giving the alien squid monster a funky personality along with a great stage and music and animations and all that great fighting game character stuff, and now he’s maybe the most popular Dr Strange villain along with Dormammu and Mordo, despite having ZERO film appearences or major showings in comic sagas.

Capcom's designers redefined Shuma-Gorath from a nebulous cosmic evil into a comically smug cartoon bastard who can rant about devouring all dimensions and souls horrifically while also cracking poses and zingers like “How do you expect to win a fight with only two arms?” and having dinners with Dhalsim or hosting Japanese game shows in his endings, and it kills me that none of this ever made it’s way into any depictions of the character outside of MvC. 

So that’s kinda what I’d go with. I’d take Capcom’s Shuma-Gorath, depower him a bit obviously from his canonical power, and run with the premise of his MvC3 ending where he decides that, well, if he's the unlikely savior of this pathetic planet and these wretched human dogs like him so much, and he’s clearly having a much better time here among them than he ever had drifting among the stars cealessly consuming life, then maybe he can take a break from all that eldritch business and keep up hosting the Super Monster Awesome Hour and maybe fight whatever PITIFUL villains think can take HIS planet. I mean, he’ll probably still end up destroying the planet by the end, but why not give this hero business a try?

Just until he gets his full powers back of course. 

I mean you can’t deny he DOES look pretty good in that bowtie, surely The Great Shuma-Gorath wouldn’t be so unmerciful as to deny these vile wastes of flesh something good to look at in their brief and miserable lives.

#replies tag #marvel comics #marvel #dc comics #dc #pulp heroes #pulp villains #martian manhunter #plastic man #kraven the hunter #two-face #shuma-gorath #marvel vs capcom

[0littlestwolf0]

Straight to Hell Pt. 2

Ship: Percy Jackson x Reader

Warnings: just a bit of crying towards the end.

Requested by: @msmissinghome

Author note: I swear I wanted to put a fight scene at the end, but I just couldn’t shake this thought that if I managed to get out of Tartarus, on my own, and then be hugged by Percy I would cry all my fears out. I’m sorry it took me so long, I tried to find a better ending.

Also @tobios-shawty here’s part two! I hope you like it!

Silence was a funny companion.

It had a way to make you uneasy, to creep inside your skin and force you to destroy it, to scream it away or to laugh your way through it.

Percy thought he would never be a prey to silence, after all, it was always the apocalypse around him, someone was always fighting (him for the most part), chasing, or running.

But right now, deep in the shadows, he couldn’t catch a single noise, he could barely register his grip on the back of Nico’s jacket as he shadow-traveled them.

What was that place supposed to be anyways?

Or, better yet,

How in Hades did Nico manage to find a path through it?

He didn’t know, and it didn’t matter much to him at the moment, his senses, his brain, his entire body was only focused on finding you, on getting you back.

Maybe on another circumstances he would’ve thought about how that same dark landscape would probably make for some really nasty nightmares, and yet, he doubted he would even remember it.

He was just finally adjusting at the darkness when the light came back, dazzling him.

And then Nico was on the floor, barely able to pull himself to his knees and hands, breathing heavily.

Percy took a calculated look around him, his right hand gripping Riptide tightly, he didn’t recognize his surroundings, but as far as he could tell, there were no monsters in sight “What happened? Are we there yet?”

The king of ghosts only replied with a sneer and a roll of his eyes

“What is that supposed to mean?” Percy asked as a sudden, all-too-familiar rage filled him, he couldn’t waste any more time, because what if you made it and he wasn’t there? You would’ve walked through Hell only for him to not comply on his side, not opening the doors on his side.

“Asshole” Nico mumbled “The doors are in Greece” he said as if it explained everything, Percy looked around, and even though the surroundings were new, probably somewhere in Italy, it wasn’t Greece.

“We aren’t in Greece yet” Percy added, the rage filling his every word with venom.

“We were just in Manhattan! Traveling here took almost all of my strength!” Nico yelled, breathing between words, and only in that moment did Percy fully acknowledge him, the bloody nose, panting, even the shaking.

He felt as though he was being stabbed with guilt over and over again, the entirety of his situation made his eyes water, but he forced the tears away rapidly, he didn’t deserve to cry, he scolded himself, besides, that would do nothing to either save you nor help Nico.

“I’m sorry” he apologized wholeheartedly “I’m just-“

“I know, just shut up and let me regain my strength so we can get to her” he cut right through his words

Percy bit his tongue until he felt a metallic taste and nodded, his eyes skipping trough the town they were in until something clicked, a building with very specific windows

“I know this place-“ he whispered to himself, trailing off at the end, there was no way he’d been there, and he didn’t have social media or watch enough TV to recognize it from anywhere.

Nico rolled his eyes again “I said-“ he trailed off looking at the same building “oh”

“Oh?” Percy repeated “You know this place?”

Of course he did, Percy rationalized, he’d probably been there before, but then again, why did Percy felt like he knew it too? Maybe some type of deja vu?

“You don’t?” Was Nico’s answer “She has a photo of this place that she parades with her wherever she goes, you must’ve seen it”

Oh, now the son of the sea understood the sentiment.

“I did, but she never really told me about this place”

Nico scoffed “Well of course she didn’t! She hated being here”

Percy had figured that much, you never talked about your childhood more than strictly necessary, sometimes even going out of your way to drive any conversation away from that topic.

But,

“Why?” He didn’t realized he wondered out loud.

“Her mortal parent, for starters, abandoning her” Percy realized Nico still looked angry, but now the anger wasn’t directed at him “forcing her to raise herself from childhood until she was taken to camp”

Still, it worried him further, that anger he was escaping was directed at one person that should’ve been close to you, someone who you should’ve relied on that abandoned you, pretty much like he thought he was doing by not being there with you already.

Gods he needed you.

But, he’d get you back, and once he did, he’d never let go of you again.

The resolve compressed his heart a little, but he accepted the feeling, from now on, you’d have someone to rely on that would never let you down.

That, he was willing to swear on the Styx.

***********

Had it been entire days or mere hours you just couldn’t tell.

Nothing really changed in Tartarus from the second you fell in, nothing but the multitude of monsters hunting you down.

Trying to track down the first demigod they’d seen since being killed by, most likely, another demigod just like you.

But your resolution never once wavered, you were getting out, one way or another, you hid until you had slaughtered one of them, not quite killing, just creating a gush big enough to sprinkle some ichor in your clothes, enough to change your scent but not so much as to tear through the entirety of the fabric.

Eventually, with a new limp, and a few ugly wounds that would soon enough turn into ugly scars, you got to the door.

A heavy sigh left you, and suddenly you became an anxious mess altogether What if Percy hadn’t made it? What if they finally realized that you didn’t belong with them? That after all you were still just walking anxiety coated on fear and deep rooted issues?

Maybe they’d finally realized that they’d be better off without-

No

You couldn’t allow yourself to keep thinking like that, you couldn’t give up on yourself because knowing them, they wouldn’t give up on you.

It was Percy Jackson for crying out loud! He wouldn’t give up on anyone! Less of all you.

So, with a burning throat after swallowing your fears and an ever growing tremble on your body did you step on the elevator.

And you waited.

And waited.

The fear was eating you whole when you felt it beginning to move.

You forced yourself to stand up, leaning against a corner for support and taking a hold of your weapon.

Then the doors open and you lunged forward, wanting nothing more than to get as further away from the entrance as you could.

“Whoa!” Exclaimed a voice you knew too well as your blue-green-eyed boy held your face

His eyes were finally letting go of all the tears he managed to contain, denying himself to even blink in case you’d disappear, he knew it was a stupid fear to have, but still, he wouldn’t dare to take the chance.

Suddenly you were pressed against his trembling body, it was a good match, you realized, with the both of you shaking there was a strange sense of stability.

“You’re okay, you’re here” he kept mumbling against your hair, over and over like a mantra or a prayer you couldn’t tell, it took you a moment to realize he was talking to himself.

“I’m out” was all you could say, a broken voice finding a way out of your closed off throat, it was funny how before that moment you’d wholeheartedly believed that your first thought after getting out would’ve been Percy.

It wasn’t.

Your first thought was how incredibly stupid you had been for jumping in the first place, I mean, of course you’d do it again but the matter at hand was that it was a very stupid move from your part.

Going to Tartarus? Where a thousand bloodthirsty monsters (who by the way had been killed by your kin) were? Poisoned air and burning rivers? The odds had been against you from the moment you landed!

By all means you shouldn’t have survived.

But you did, and finally all the tears you had suppressed came to life, Percy held you with unwavering arms as his own legs gave up and the both of you landed on your knees.

He held you as you screamed and yelled between tears, as you sobbed so much he thought you’d have an attack, because you were out of the woods now, all the fear and anger you suppressed could finally come out.

You hit him a few times but that was okay, he only held you tighter as his own sobbing became loud, breaking out all the way from his chest.

At some point in all the crying you felt an extra pair of arms around you, your first instinct made you stiffen until you saw black eyes full of worry, then you began crying again, and so did he.

Because now you were safe.

#heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #nico di angelo

[herstarburststories]

Calamitous Love

Paring: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean shows up at your house, but this is a calamitous love. Sooner or later, it's going to destroy.

A/N: I was based and inspired by so many things to get this ready, I can't even start pointing them here. This started as something and escalated to something else, and I'm immensely in love with how it is now. I'm posting a version of this through Dean's POV soon. The prompt is bolded and its for @tvdspngirl314's bday challenge! Hope you like it, honey! And happy bday.

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, fluff, angst, dean is a perv in a cute way, s1 dean Ily

Dean Winchester could easily remember how mad you were that night, after he purposely came to your party uninvited and stood on the porch talking to all your stupid friends. How the one you called the best out of them had wide eyes when she caught him there, and all the reaction she could get was him winking at her.

The man - who was more like a boy, really - with green eyes that matched your garden knew she would run and rush and breathlessly tell you that he was there.

Of course she did. Inez was never one for keeping secrets. He used to wonder if it was a matter of time for the blonde to spread yours.

Her loose lips were useful that night, though. He couldn't even finish his chatter about Chevrolet versus Toyota cars with that James guy before you bursted out of the door ferociously. Dean turned around and waited for many things; well-deserved slapping, indignated tears, a sharp scream strident enough to suppress the loud song which vibrated through everyone's skin like veins.

You surprised him once again.

You closed your eyelashes and took a deep breath, as if to control the burning fire behind your thoughts. The Winchester had seen her in arguments before, the whole ‘my mouth is a loaded gun without a trigger’ thing held an entirely new meaning. He knew you wanted to come at him, and Dean wouldn’t put any guilty on you for that. As you walked towards him, his brittle heart raced like one of those chick flick moments he always mocked about - yet, he couldn't help but stare. Your legs looked so good in that light, pretty ass that Dean loved to grab wrapped in a tight red skirt. You had a white tank with cleavage on and your hair was, as usual, free on its widest way. The hunter adored how your brown sea could never seem not to be a mess, and how you made chaos marvelous like a natural. He surely needed that in his life.

Isn’t it all you had been since the very beginning, honestly? Isn’t it what love utterly is when the lights are dim and the weather changes? Cutting right to the bone like a surgeon, you were that one thing, that one hand that would touch Dean’s weary head and make it rest, those unique lips who could whisper tales of hope in the backseat of his car and he could actually believe it. The one, you know, that one person who didn’t make the eldest Winchester feel like he cared more than he was cared for. He often experienced that math problem, dad never seemed to be satisfied enough to be proud of him, and Sam was always talking about how he wanted to leave someday.

‘’Dean.’’ You said and your tone was harsh, a single eyebrow arched with a quiet defying question. The green eyed man wouldn't be shocked if you had called him out before when he was too busy paying attention to you to notice. ‘’Let's go to the garden.’’

And then you grabbed his wrist, sneaking in through the rusting garden gates in the back of your house. Such mere touch put his skin on flames. So many others, mostly monsters or people who were really monsters at heart, already chained his hands and he always broke the cuffs. This time, in your hands, Dean almost wished he could stay put, grounded to something else other than bloody walls and oily guns. He missed you so much. The way your fingers felt on his cheeks, how you'd allow him to kiss every inch of your body, and how you seemed to understand.

Anyway, it wasn't time for him to turn sentimental just yet. Leave it to Sam. 

Dean’s boots were cruel against the grass, walking side by side with your high heels ones. Above all the partying noise, they both were quiet for once, as if they were going into a clandestine meeting.

He hated it.

‘’What the fuck are you doing here?’’ you turned around in a swift move before crossing your arms. It took a lot of self control not to glare at your breast, which is why Dean didn’t. He pictured it wasn’t that bed since he was only glancing for a few seconds and the malicious smirk on his face faded into him licking his bottom lip through the memories of fucking, grabbing and playing with them. You rolled your eyes, impressed by my immature behavior. ‘’Winchester, I asked what you are doing here.’’

Always so dominant in every situation but in bed. He sighed to himself, man, I can’t lose her.

‘’Listen, Y/N/N, I’m sorry.’’

‘’You are sorry? You can take your apologies and put them in your sorry ass till’ they come out of your mouth, Dean.’’ And, of course, stubborn. Dean Winchester wouldn't be so attracted to you in any other way. Frisky women always had the best him.

He groaned, ‘’Y/N, come on, it wasn't like that--’’

You interrupted his reasoning with a laugh empty of joy: ‘’You left me. You just walked away. No calls, no texts, just left. You promised you wouldn't. You said I could trust you.’’

‘’And you can!’’

He wasn’t able to blame you for that. Still, it broke him to hear every casual syllable in raw honesty. Dean would kill for you, and you didn’t even trust him because he ran away without any note, or previous warning, or anything. If only he could do the trick of just opening his mouth and allowing his emotions to come arrive, like Sam did all the time. All he tried to be, his little brother was simply born that way. He could never be like Sammy and you deserved a guy like him. Yet, the bruised man - more like a scared boy, really - remained in front of you. Because, for once, Dean wanted to act selfish and get it what he craved for. Just this once.

‘’To leave? Sure.’’ Nonetheless, you never learned how to read his mind, so you just aim a wry smile at him. ‘’Sorry, pal. I already have my mom to do that.’’

In that moment, every word you said was a stone designed to shatter him, and it was working fatefully. Sometimes, the green eyed hunter wished he was the one being left instead of leaving people behind. But how could you know that? It's the job side effect.

Taking a deep breath, your name is leaving his lips calmly. The most calm he had ever been since my three childhood years. ‘’Y/N…’’

‘’No, Dean.’’ You spoke. Because his forest eyes matched a lot with the grass in your garden under that dim light, almost like he was made to be there and you didn’t think you could do it again; lose him. It was too much.

‘’Dang, woman. I'm trying to explain!’’

‘’No, you are trying to come up with a stupid lie to cover up whatever you were doing for two weeks! I'm not stupid and I know you.’’ You accused, exasperatedly slapping your own tights. You were right, he had showed up to your party with a dumb excuse on his tongue, ready to tell you anything but the truth. Fuck, how the short haired hunter wanted you to have the imaginary money to buy one of his cheap lies. ‘’Tell me the truth. Don't come up with my dad needed help with a car and all that. What happened to you, Dean?’’

‘’I can't tell you.’’ He shrugged in frustration. 

I want to tell you everything, even the details in the corner, the monster in the forest.

You smile sarcastically, ‘’I don't see a fold on your lips.’’

But I can’t.

Dean huffed, pursing his lips. ‘’You would hate me.’’

You would think I’m a crazy liar.

‘’I already do.’’

You can be so violent when hurt. You both have bullets in different body parts, and there you are trying to shoot him. Modern Romeo and Juliet, a hunter romance; they try to kill each other instead of the evil thing.

‘’Y/N, you are gonna think I'm crazy.’’ He wiped his face, exasperated for you to change the subject.

Your lips were shut, the light reflected on you. Dean was glaring at you in a quiet desire for you to stay, to make him stay. But you stand still, looking away with delicate woe contorting your features.

It was clear after a hunt when the hunter should leave the town. And it was clear now that he killed any hope for them that Dean shall do what he usually does after a case. Nodding with a sigh, started to walk away.

But you stopped him.

‘’What are you doing?’’ You, in fact, sounded confused. Dean’s eyebrows knitted together, unsure if you two were having the conversation he thought you were not even one minute ago.

The answer resonated more like a question than anything: ‘’Leaving?’’

Your next words were the equivalent to the three ones he had never dared to say. ‘’I don't want you to leave.’’

Yes, the Winchester’s heart was pouring as fast as it was when he went on his first hunt. Yes, he could hear an old rock song playing when you have that look on your face. Yes, he knew he was acting like Sammy and all his cheesy discourses right now.

Who cares?

Apart from all that, Dean offered you a cocky smile. ‘’What do you want, sweetheart?’’

‘’Kiss me.’’

And he did. You trusted him in the garden and he got you back. Dean kissed you in the porch in front of all your stupid friends, too. And then he kissed you again in my car under the streetlight and in so many other uncountable places.

He was the person who got left a few years after that. As if his sorrow had become the prey for some cosmic joke. Sammy left for Stanford and it made his dad, well, more dad than usual. The weird thing was, inside of the grief of being left, Dean understood what he did to you. He had a lot of blood in his hands, enough to turn an ocean red if he ever tried to clean them, but I knew that leaving you was the worst thing that I had ever done.

Well, at least that was what two bottles of Whiskey helped him to get to.

Dean guessed he got what you felt on your porch that night as well. When he walked in, you knew you'd forgive him but you needed to sting back. As Sam left, his older brother already knew he'd forgive him, too. Dean fought about it, and I felt betrayed- wounded animals still attack. But he had forgave him the moment he missed him.

You forgave Dean too, and nowadays he resented for that with an insufferable regret. Because then he told you the truth about the world and showed you his scars. He kissed you, and your lips found every ugly in him. Still, they kept asking him for more. Your lips were the bed for my monster to sleep under.

Real monsters found them.

A few years later, the trio was in a town. You had a vacation from college - you dated a hunter with 5 bucks to his name, and you were studying journalism in a conceited university. It made no sense to Dean sometimes. All you asked for was to spend your free time with him and a call each night to make sure he was alive, which he gave you happily. Besides finding a way to go near your city at least once a month, more for himself than anything else. How did he get so lucky?

You liked certain aspects of the hunter life, surprisingly. The driving away, the creatures, even the restaurants. ‘’Come on, you guys hunt monsters. How cool is that? Also just driving, eating in a new place everyday. Did I mention monsters are real? You guys are like heroes!’’

He shook his head at your optimism, stroking your naked form gently that night.‘’We aren't here, Y/N. This life, it ends early and bloody. There is no place for white fancies and normal.’’

‘’Who said that I want that?’’ You mocked right before pressing your lips to the hickey on his neck, gaining a content groan from Dean. ‘’You monsters. As far as I'm concerned, you are a hero. My hero.’’ You add a subtle joke. ‘’Like a fairytale.’’

He scoffed and pulled you closer. ‘’More like a horror movie.’’ 

‘’Haven’t you read fairytales?’’ 

‘’No, but I did see the porn version.’’ Done with talking, he got on top of you, wearing that lopsided grin that started it all over again.

Years back, he asked you what you wanted. And you said, kiss me.

You kept saying that for a decade. Growing that calamitous love, feeding it with stolen glances and touches. If you knew what’s next, would you do it again?

Now you are laying on the ground as he got on my knees and pulled you closer. You are almost dead, a half lifeless body, but you hold on so tight to life, gasping for it. His stubborn girl who he loved so.

Your voice, usually so determined, is barely a whimper. ‘’Everyone wants a fairytale love.’’

‘’What? Don’t get sentimental on me, Y/N. You aren’t gonna die.’’ Dean says exasperated. It isn’t blind faith, unrealistic optimism or anything like this. It’s denial, one of the stages of grief he’s familiar with. It lives with him, as loyal as a dog, as present as a long lost mother’s love; he ignores the acceptance and hope, jumping right into anger, guilt, denial, and bargains with the devil. As if death is a champagne problem he can just drink and be done with because hey, if you can’t lose something, then you won’t right? Right? And if you do lose it, then you’ll just die too. Someone loses oxygen, they die. Someone loses too much blood, they die.

He will die if he loses you, he will. Dean is devastatingly sure of that. He can feel it in his bones. If you die, he dies. His body, his cicatrized soul was made out of in woe. That man - scared little boy like he was when Mary died, really -, He knows sadness like an old lover who always visits, and death is an old friend who always shakes his hands and appears without an invite. Dean Winchester knows pain, alright? Ask any person, he’s the Rome for men, built in ruins despise the beauty of good.

But this? No. He can’t survive. It isn’t possible that someone can hold so much suffering and agony. Skin and bone can only take so many hematomas. 

‘’Dean, shut up.’’ You place your hand on his cheek and Dean can’t help but lean in. His green eyes are glistening, the memory of the garden reminiscing in the back of your mind. ‘’I’ve wanted a fairytale love since I was a kid and my dad used to read the books my mom left on the shelf for me. So, in my defense, I never actually read them.’’

‘’Is this what a fairytale looks to you?’’ The eldest Winchester asks, not missing how your touch is colder against him. Where’s Sam with the car? Where’s a miracle? Where’s the justice and fair things and anything good? Dying in his arms, sinking her fingernails into his skin.

‘’The original ones, yes. They are just like that.’’ You chortle, but what’s meant to sound like happiness develops into a cough. All the energy and strength you have are used to push the words. You need Dean to know. ‘’I don't regret anything. You loved me, and I loved you. This is good. I don’t want your silly little mind to think any other way. You aren’t the villain in my story, Dean. You are the…’’ You’re interrupted by your own body giving up on you at an alarming rate, more bloodstained coughing.

‘’Don’t speak, honey. You’ll be alright, okay? No goodbye, we don’t do goodbye. You’ll be alright. Just keep yourself awake, ok?’’ Dean doesn’t know what to do other than hold you. What does one do with all the throbbing aches? He can’t say he will see you in heaven if you die. Staying with you for ten years was heaven already and this is the price he pays. That’s like when the ocean drains in a flash right in front of your eyes and someone tells you to swim in the sky instead. He can’t jump high enough to get it, he isn’t tall enough to get it. But God, Dean can’t just give up, he can’t just let you go. You are bleeding out and he’s dying with you. ‘’Please.’’ The Winchester pleas. ‘’Don’t leave me. Please.’’

If this is how you die and you can only pick up some words to say, you need to spell love. You need Dean Winchester to know he was loved with your last breath, there’s no better use to life other than love. Therefore, it’s easy to know what to voice when you look into his eyes one last time. ‘’I love you.’’

Through the agony, Dean gives you the sort of smile... You know, the sort of smile that can only be described by I put my home on fire, so I could eat all the flames and all the bright blaze is in my teeth now. Because something is burning and you are becoming ashes, but you love this. You love that boy and he loves you. You’d do it all again. He rests his forehead against yours and you can feel his tears on your face, his hands holding you for dear life.

‘’I love you too.’’

It’s a good thing to hear as you close your eyes.

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