#she’s far more grounded than him 💀
Note
Could you write Ghost x fem!reader where she finds him attractive but is too shy to actually tell him but also can't hide the way she's feeling, so Ghost notices her interest and eventually they end up in bed (*cough* you know what I mean)? Also Ghost being gentle and protective towards her, plz
Ps. I love your writing!
Word Count: 8314
i’m incapable of short prompt fills, apparently! o, but i am filled with grief!
anywho, reader’s codename is ‘ladybird’ (hc that soap gave it to her because she’s lucky) but is otherwise nameless.
contains masturbation, oral sex, lots of feelings, wee bit of slow burn, ghost being like weirdly emotional and soft, and soap’s gratuitous and unfortunate use of emojis. 💀/🐞4ever
---
The first time it really hits you, you're in a helicopter about two miles above the ground—honestly a terrible place to face your feelings. It's a velvet-dark night, strategically chosen for the new moon, the countryside below nearly invisible. You're almost in a doze, caught up in the Chinook's blades' low, thunderous pulse and the sporadic rocking as it hits little glades of turbulence. Your eyes lose focus on some of the running lights, until they turn hazy, and its only when the man across from you moves his boot do you snap back to attention.
Ghost. Right. You learned his name a few weeks ago during your orientation, but he was deployed on a recon mission only a day later. Price summoned him back for this mission, but aside from a few gruff comments at the all-hands meeting, you haven't heard him say much.
For a moment, you think he might have dozed off, too. He’s leaning back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed. And that’s fair, you think; Soap told you he didn’t think Ghost ever slept.
You silently study him, the way his head rocks a little with the turbulence, how much taller he is than everyone else in his row, the peculiar illusion that the eye sockets of his mask are empty—
And suddenly they aren’t.
He’s looking back at you, dark eyes regarding you passively, even though the mask makes every look significantly more intimidating. For moment that goes on way too long, you don’t look away, your gazes locked. Your heart takes the tracheal elevator to your throat, beating loud enough to drown out the Chinook’s roar.
You look away first, and you swear you hear him snort.
The rest of the journey to the drop-off zone, you deliberately don’t look at him; but when you close your eyes, there he is.
All you can think is ohhhh, shit.
---
Military crushes aren’t abnormal. Put enough people at the peak of physical excellence in a room, throw around some form-fitting uniforms, and mix in a few adrenaline rushes—it’s a goddamn potent mixture. You’ve had your share of mess hall dreamy-eyed gazing sessions, and a few ‘I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go’ moments in gyms and fitness centers. That’s fine; that’s normal.
What you start feeling for Ghost isn’t that.
Nevermind that he’s rarely out of tactical dress, and if he is, he usually defaults to a hoodie or something that doesn’t exactly entice the imagination. And he’s never out of some variation of his mask, so you can’t think woah, pal, do you cut glass with that jawline because as far as you can tell, he doesn’t have one. No mooning over cheekbones, admiring the curve of lips. He has nice eyes, but ever since the night in the Chinook, you haven’t been able to meet them for more than a second before your heart does that terrible little samba again.
Per your mental checklist, aside from being tall and muscular, he doesn’t check all your normal boxes. By all those counts, Gaz or Soap are way better fits. Hell, Soap likes to hang around in his silkies like they’re pajamas, showing off plenty to keep your fantasy fodder trough filled. And you’ve caught Gaz doing push-ups in the lounge, his tight shirt doing wonders for his shoulders.
But it’s Ghost who makes you feel like a hormonal teenager. It’s Ghost that gets you antsy and fidgety when he enters a room. And it’s Ghost that you think about during your rare alone time in the shower, when your hands start drifting south and the tile walls are your only support.
You’ve got it bad for him, and you have no idea what to do about it.
---
You’re doing recon in Berlin when Soap notices.
The mission details are simple: a drug lord known as Keiler using a night club as a go-between for his suppliers and dealers—all further complicated by the fact that he has plenty of friends in the arms trade, and by Laswell’s reports, he’s very generous to those friends. The club is a front, a money laundering wonderland. Through your observation, drugs and alcohol are doled out in equal volume, all to the backdrop of skull-splitting bass and sharp scalpels of strobe lights.
The biggest obstacle is that Keiler likes to use a private room overlooking the club as his perch, and your intelligence says that at any given time, he has a small army defending him. Getting to him requires an incredible degree of finesse. Naturally, Ghost is the one to do it.
You, Soap, and Gaz are scattered around the main floor of the club. Gaz is out on the dance floor, Soap’s taken up a spot near the bar, and you’re in the lounge. It’s the first time you’ve done something like this (and in an outfit with so little fabric), and you’re really not used to being ogled and pawed by a bunch of drunk, drugged, or horny Berliners.
Soap must see your discomfort from his position, as you hear a dry, amused, “Feelin’ a little tense, Ladybird?”
You swallow hard and chase it with a sip of your drink, which definitely needs to be watered down. “I’m fine,” you say.
“You look like you just drank petrol.”
“You’re the one who ordered it for me.”
Gaz cuts in with a weary, “Do we have eyes on Ghost, yet? I’m starting to get tired of people grabbing my—”
“I’m here,” Ghost’s voice scrapes over the comms, causing you to sit up straight and look around. You catch sight of Soap who has his hand curled in front of his mouth, clearly snickering like a heathen.
“Think you scared the shit out of Ladybird, LT,” he says.
He’s lucky he’s on the other side of the room, otherwise you’d pretend to be extremely clumsy and find an excuse to spill your drink on his (very, very tight) shirt. You mouth ‘shut up’ at him, and he reaches up with his pointer finger to draw an invisible halo over his head.
Ghost ignores him. “I’m near the east stairwell, headed to second deck. Got one guard at the far end. Gaz, you seein’ anything I should know about?”
A pause, then, “Negative, Ghost. I’ve got what you’ve got.”
“Copy. Going to second deck now.”
Out of habit, your eyes go to the east stairwell, peering through the haze pierced with multicolored lights to see a single dark shape ascending. He disappears behind a catwalk, then reappears to the right, mingling with the crowd near the second floor bar. Once he’s there, he seems to fade into the throng of people, most in dark clothing, some in masks. Just like that, he’s invisible.
It’s hard to focus on looking calm and happy to be there, but you keep sipping your drink, watching the dancers and feeling the bassline of yet another techno song thrumming in your chest. You’re glad you’re not out on the dance floor, or being called to give come-hither glances to bouncers and guards.
Then, “Coming back down to first deck,” Ghost says, clearly agitated. “Too many guards and too many people. We need another way up.”
Soap grins. “Violence isn’t the answer, LT?”
“Negative. Start looking for another route.”
On cue, you stand up and cross the room to the bar, sliding in beside Soap. He’s fishing for another couple Euro from his wallet, pushing it across to the bartender with two fingers. The bartender gives him a brief nod and refills his glass, while Soap turns his attention to you.
“Any bright ideas?”
You frown and adjust the straps on your top again. It’s a stupid piece of clothing, always feeling like it’s going to fall off. “Only the emergency stairs by the front doors, but I can’t imagine Keiler leaves those undefended.”
Soap looks thoughtful and scratches at his stubble. “Yeah, but probably no civilians, either. And if the door’s alarmed, Ghost can take care of that.”
As if summoned, you feel Ghost appear before you see him, a huge presence over your shoulder that makes you jump. “Jesus!” you hiss.
And Soap, the traitor, laughs to the point of wheezing as Ghost takes up the bar stool on his other side. “I think you’re giving our Ladybird here a complex,” Soap says through his laughter.
Ghost rolls his eyes. From this angle, you can see Ghost in more than just the dim light you’ve been working with most of the night. He’s not dressed too far outside his usual fashion wheelhouse—heavy boots, black trousers, and a loose black hoodie. His hood’s pulled up over a black beanie and a skull-painted gaiter, and he’s foregone his usual thick coating of greasepaint for black-ringed eyes (is that eyeliner?) and a streak of smoke-colored paint that just manages to obscure the color of his brows. The downside (for you, at least) is that the combo manages to draw his eyes into sharper contrast, making them that much more intense.
Suddenly, your heart’s doing the thing again.
Ghost doesn’t seem to notice any change in you, but you think Soap’s actually looking for it. He watches you, brows lifted, mouth curled like a flirtation of a smirk. Briefly, he glances between you and Ghost, and then the smirk appears in full force, enlightenment dawning.
Before he can insinuate a thing, you’re shoving your half-empty glass across the bar top with a too-high, “Bitte.” The bartender only gives you a brief, unamused look before taking your glass and remaking whatever godforsaken cocktail Soap ordered.
It’s not a good distraction, and the damage is already done. Soap knows, damnit. His smile is too easygoing, but he turns to Ghost and starts talking about the emergency stairwell, which is a relief. Ghost looks over his shoulder toward the stairwell in question, and as he does, Soap looks at you and makes the gesture of zipping his own mouth shut, throwing away the proverbial key with a wink.
As he does, Gaz pipes back up with, “Ghost, you copy?”
“Yeah, Gaz?”
“You, uh, know anything about a big guy with a tattoo of a boar on the back of his head?”
Ghost looks toward the dance floor, brows furrowing. “Yeah, that’d be Bauer, Keiler’s right hand man.”
“Great. Glad you know him, because he’s here.”
Shit. He wasn’t supposed to be. If Bauer’s here, then either Keiler’s doing something more than his usual partying upstairs, or Keiler knows someone’s here looking for him. Either way, the mission just got significantly harder, and your night got that much longer.
With a grunt, Ghost pushes off the bar and starts making his way to the emergency stairwell. “I’ll take care of it,” he says. “Keep your eyes open. Out here.”
Once he’s gone, there’s a pause—a very heavy pause. Then, Soap looks at you with an expression that is just a hair too pleased. “Ghost, huh?”
Your face heats up, right as the bartender hands you your drink. You reach for your wallet, only for the bartender to put a hand up and shake his head. “Nein, für das schöne Mädchen,” he says.
For the pretty girl.
“Bet Ghost thinks so, too,” Soap says, and you resolve to definitely spill your free drink on his too-tight pants.
---
Weeks after Keiler’s nice and cozy in a maximum-security prison and the 141 is back at base, you have another miniature existential crisis.
It’s all an accident—just a tempest of bad timing and bad luck. Ever since you came back from Germany, you’ve had a tough time getting a full night’s sleep. It’s easy to blame the natural stress of your work, the long hours, the high-adrenaline action you see more than you ever did before this job. And, well, part of it has to come from Ghost. He’s occupied your thoughts more than ever since the night club.
Your solution is to hit the gym late at night, pushing yourself until you can’t keep your eyes open and no amount of insomnia can overcome it. The first few nights of this effort work fine—you end up in bed around one or two in the morning, and sleep until your alarm goes off. No one bothers you; no one hogs the machines. It’s kind of nice.
However, you don’t account for all the night owls that share the base with you.
You head to the gym late on a Friday night, towel around your neck, water bottle at the ready, podcasts preloaded. If you ever hit the gym during the day, you usually do so in a t-shirt and sweatpants. At night, you’ve started opting for PT shorts and a tank top, happy for the lack of eyes around the room.
Except for tonight.
You open the door into the gym, only to hear the mechanical drone of a treadmill and someone sprinting damn fast on it. For a second, you freeze, hiding behind the corner. Then, slowly, you peer around it, clutching your phone and water bottle close to your chest.
Jesus Christ. It’s Ghost.
Ghost, in a t-shirt. In sweatpants. Running on a treadmill set to the highest incline. Panting.
Ghost, with bare arms, showing a detailed tattoo on his left arm, and prominent veins running over his chiseled muscles. He looks like a fucking Greek statue, and that’s just what you can see.
“Ohhh, my God,” you whisper to yourself, immediately working on an exit strategy that doesn’t involve catching his attention.
Which obviously doesn’t come to pass. It’s something you probably should have learned on the helo ride—Ghost knows when he’s being watched. He turns his head, dark eyes fixing on you immediately. Briefly, he looks back at the treadmill, then down at his watch, and back to the treadmill’s controls. He slows it down, dropping the incline, until he finally steps off and starts walking toward you.
Abort, abort.
You think about fleeing, running back to your room or rolling under a table or hiding behind a counter like he’s a goddamn velociraptor in the kitchen. You do none of those things, because despite your training, you freeze up. No one could blame you, you think. It’s hard to do much else when a six-foot-something skull-faced wall of muscle walks up to you. And you must look stellar, holed up in a corner by the door, your water bottle and phone held up like a shield.
Ghost takes in the sight of you, eyes flicking up, down, up. Heat rises to your face, and down to—to nowhere, because it’s better not to think about it. You suddenly feel too vulnerable in your choice of outfit, naked under his gaze.
“Ladybird,” he says. Your nickname becomes a hot scratch of sound, losing its whimsy in favor of a tone you can’t define. “You need somethin’?”
There’s a patch of sweat by his collar. You stare at it, then at the floor.
“No, I just— I was, um, just about to leave, and... Yeah, I’m gonna go.”
He’s silent until you finally look up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time in what what feels like an eon. He looks amused, but there’s a quirk in his brow like he can’t quite get a good read on you. “You look like you were about to use the gym.”
You look down at your bottle, phone, and towel like you’re just now noticing them. When you bring your attention back to him, you feel like you need to just kick the door open and escape, dignity be damned. “I... was,” you say slowly. Then, you rally yourself, trying to look upbeat and resolved. “Y’know what? You can keep using it. I’ll come back later.”
He shrugs, but you see it. Some secondary expression slinking around in his eyes like it’s working through the perpetually-moving cogs in his head. He gives you another one of those assessing glances, and for a second, you think he’s going to step into your space. His body language looks primed to do so, and you hold your breath in anticipation for it, unsure of what he’s going to do.
Then he takes a step back, and another.
“Suit yourself,” he says. “I wouldn’t mind it, though.”
Before you can process his words, he’s back on the treadmill, tweaking the settings and raising the incline again. The belt starts moving, and he’s back to looking like power personified, a vision in motion.
You have got it so bad.
It’s a hasty retreat to your room, and once the door’s shut behind you, you’re panting like you had run on the treadmill and lifted weights.
“Shit, shit, shit,” you hiss, discarding your things on the table beside your bed, kicking off your running shoes, then laying down and staring at the ceiling. He knows. He has to. Ghost’s whole job depends on him being observant, and he looked at you like he was reading a fucking book.
You groan and press your palms into your eyes until phosphenes appear, dancing around and shimmering like fireworks behind your eyelids. You’re going to have to leave the 141 out of pure mortification. You’ll have to go into some kind of witness protection, change your name, and move to the other side of the earth. Or if you stay, you’ll have to pretend Ghost doesn’t exist. You’ll hide behind walls, slinking through the building’s HVAC just to avoid him like you’re working on a heist. Maybe you can convince Soap or Gaz to accompany you everywhere so you can hide behind their bulk.
But then, your horrible brain reminds you of what you’ll miss out on. It runs through a greatest hits reel of your crush so far—Ghost’s eyes, his presence stretching long over you like a shadow, his massive frame, his arms. The tattoo, detailed enough to tell from a distance, and then the thought of running your fingers over it, tracing all the fine points and lines. And are those his only tattoos, or are there more?
And his voice. Jesus, you replay the few words you’ve heard him say over and over, savoring each syllable, each quirk of his accent. Even the last thing he said—
I wouldn’t mind it, though.
That makes you open your eyes again, widening them as you take in the pocks and scrapes on the ceiling. He wouldn’t mind what? Having company in the gym? Having you, specifically, as his company? You don’t know what to make of it, or what he meant by it. Honestly, you feel like you don’t know anything right now.
Except that you want him. That’s the only thing you’re sure of. You want to know how his hands feel on you, how they would run over your bare skin, what the callouses on his fingers would feel like on the most delicate and sensitive parts of your body. Your imagination leaps ahead of you, guiding your own hand down into your shorts and under the band of your panties. You tease yourself, just dipping your fingers into the wet heat, trailing them over your clit like a hint to yourself, coaxing your arousal out of your panic.
His hands would feel different. When you rub your index finger over your clit, you imagine his finger instead, pressing gently against you, building up friction slowly, making you ache. You wonder if he’d savor your reactions, watching you get worked up, grinding against his hand to seek any kind of relief.
“Easy, Ladybird,” you imagine him saying, the nickname now a tease. And he’d know your real name, the one hidden away in your file. He’d whisper it into your ear, breath hot on your neck, his whole body eclipsing yours.
Your pace quickens, fingers running urgently between your clit and opening, causing your core to tighten and your breath to come in short gasps and barely-concealed moans. Ghost would tell you to let them out, let the whole damn base hear how aroused he makes you, how badly you’ve wanted him.
You breathe his name into the small space of your room, a whisper in the still air broken only by the low hum of the forced air in the vents. When you finally plunge your fingers in, it takes every bit of self-control not to outright moan and let everyone nearby know what you’re doing. Normally, you can stay quiet when you get yourself off, but you’re damn near frantic with this, whatever it is Ghost has done to you.
His fingers in you, fucking you in long, languid strokes, drawing himself out and pushing back in—all the while, watching your reactions. When you rock your hips to the pace of your hand, you imagine his voice again, “That’s right. Fuck yourself on my hand. Let me see you.”
You’d show him. Hell, you’d soak his hand, and it would remind him that it’s his fault you’re like this.
The wet sounds of your hand on your cunt is lewd and loud. It’s almost too much, enough to make you stop at the apex of your pleasure, to hide yourself under the blankets in shame and pretend that none of this happened.
But the vision of Ghost keeps you going, keeps your fingers moving in and out, crooking them inside and forcing out a gasp as a white-hot shock of pleasure lances up your spine and settles warm in your belly. The pad of your thumb presses against your clit, and you multitask on yourself, building up that friction, bringing yourself to the precipice.
He’d take you there. He might even pull you back from the edge over and over, teasing you with the fall.
“Do you want it? How bad? Show me.”
God, you would. Any way he wanted, you would show him. You’d beg and plead if that’s what got him to finally make you come.
So you whisper, “Please,” into the night, to a man who is never going to be in your bed, never going to touch you like this, never going to see your pleasure through to the end. The Ghost in your imagination has to stay there, behind locked doors and bulkheads, secured and contained for good.
But until then, you chase your orgasm with him, hitting that divine height and going into a freefall. Blood rushes in your ears, muscles twitching, heart racing. Your head comes off the pillow, back arching, toes digging into the mattress, mouth open on a moan that you refuse to let loose. You come way harder than you ever have using your own hand, enough that when you finally lower yourself back onto the bed, you grimace at the feeling of a wet patch on the sheets.
“Fuck,” you say, very emphatically. To yourself, to Ghost, to the whole damn situation.
Groaning, you reach over and grab the towel, wiping your hand and tucking it under your ass before rolling onto your back again and wondering what the hell you’re going to do.
---
You’re going to hide from Ghost, that’s what.
Captain Price gives the team a few days off to rest up for the next mission, and you decide right then and there that you’re going to spend every second off base, as far away from the barracks as you can get. You’ll get a hotel, order a ridiculously expensive amount of room service, and marinate in your feelings for a couple days until it’s all out of your system. Maybe you’ll go to a bar or coffee shop and chat up some nice person who isn’t a tall, broad, terrifying British soldier. And maybe you’ll have a night of incredible passion and twisted sheets, and it’ll be so cathartic that when you come back to base, you’ll be a whole new person.
That plan holds until your phone goes off while you’re packing up.
It’s a text from Soap: ‘wyd?’
‘Going off radar for a couple days. Why?’
He sends a sad emoji, then two beer glasses clinking together, a soccer ball, and then a big red question mark. Apparently, Soap only knows how to speak in hieroglyphs.
You smile, and type back, ‘Sorry, need to go clear my head.’
Skull emoji. Question mark.
‘None of your beeswax,’ you send, followed by the soap emoji.
‘that sucks,’ he types back. There’s a short pause, and then he types again. ‘cause he was looking for u earlier’
Your heart damn near comes to a stop, and you very hesitantly respond, ‘Why?’
‘idk. think he wanted to ask u smth’
Nope. You’re not taking the bait. If Ghost wants to talk to you, he can come right up and—and you can walk off in the opposite direction and act like there’s something incredibly interesting that you need to see right that second.
You type a few variations of ‘Then he can come and talk to me himself,’ but none of them sound particularly nice. Ghost hasn’t done anything wrong, so there’s no reason for you to act like he has. And for that matter, you’re supposed to be hiding from Ghost, not encouraging him to find you. Instead, you send back a clipped, ‘Okay.’
Nothing.
For one hopeful second, you think Soap’s mercifully let the conversation go, allowing you to go in peace to your nice hotel and your overpriced room service food.
Instead, you get the sunglasses emoji, a wink face, and, ‘k i told him to come see u’.
‘WHAT’
The only response is the skull and the little running cloud dash emoji, suggesting that Ghost is making a beeline right to your room. Panic seizes you and you fling your phone on your bed like somehow it’s going to help. It bounces harmlessly, then lands screen up, emojis taunting you.
Quickly, you start shoving the rest of your clothes and toiletries in your bag without a care as to where everything goes, eager to book it out of there as fast as your legs can take you. Once your bag is zipped up and thrown over your shoulder, you think you might be in the clear. Mission nearly accomplished.
Nearly.
Two solid knocks on your door almost make you hit the ceiling. You hold still, using that Jurassic Park wisdom again: if you don’t move, he can’t see you.
That applies to fictional dinosaurs, not trained killers, and certainly not Ghost. He knocks again, then follows it up with, “Ladybird, it’s me.”
Yeah, you know. That’s the problem.
Briefly, you consider going out the window, shimmying out and potentially getting caught on a base security camera for someone to laugh at later. That doesn’t make the problem go away, though.
You can just tell him you’re in a hurry, that your ride is at the gate right now and you don’t want to keep them waiting. Whatever conversation he wants to have, it’ll have to wait until you get back. It’s a good response. Solid. Foolproof.
And it dissolves the second you open the door.
He’s there, not vanished in the disappearing act you were hoping for, and all that want flares up again the moment you see him. He’s in casual dress like what he wore to the club—boots, jeans, t-shirt, hoodie, balaclava. His posture’s more relaxed, one hand in his hoodie pocket, the other hanging at his side. You meet his eyes, and your regret mixes with desire welling up inside you.
It’s that intense gaze from the helo, the brief but incendiary look from Berlin, the thoughtful gaze from the gym. You’re drawn up in it immediately, and this time, there’s no possibility of looking away. Ghost has you locked in.
He takes in the sight of you, dressed in your civvies, backpack on your shoulders, and raises his brows. “Going somewhere?”
Your mouth is cotton-dry, and you’re proud of yourself for putting a little syntax together. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m headed out.”
Right now, you should say. I’m going out right this second and I cannot be stopped. Do not engage.
But you don’t say that. You leave the words as they are, hanging between the two of you. In that moment, you’re two opposing fronts of contradictions—you want him to go, stay, talk, stay silent, touch you, leave you alone.
Ghost seems to sense this, that you’re not making any move to either speak to him or push him away. He doesn’t get into your space, staying right where he is while looking at you with his head slightly tilted. “Can I come in a sec?”
No. “Yes.” Please.
You take a step back, allowing him to walk into your room. His presence seems to fill it, like there’s too much of him and too little space to contain it. He closes the door behind himself, then finds a spot against the wall (the rare section that isn’t covered by posters or mementos) and leans against it. Still, still giving you your space.
You’re all nerves, waiting for him to speak, yet feeling like you should say something—to get all your feelings out in the open, exposed and waiting for him to pick over and do with what he will. But your anxiety and silence wins out, and instead you fidget, trying to find a point in the room to fix your gaze. Ghost takes all your attention though, holding it in a firm, invisible grip that can’t be broken no matter what you do. You get now, more than ever, why people are so scared of him when they end up at the wrong end of his skill set—he immobilizes them, rendering them completely unable to do a damn thing.
He watches you for an agonizingly long moment, then sighs. “Look, I didn’t want to bother you if you were busy, but Soap said you were around,” he says. Ghost doesn’t trail off or leave a space in his words for you to fill in the blanks. It’s a good thing—no place for you to misinterpret him—but it suddenly leaves you terrified at the possibility of what he’s going to say.
“Just for a little bit,” you hear yourself say, voice subdued and small.
He nods. “Then I’ll just get it out now before you go. More or less a question.”
Fuck. You feel a strange, uncomfortably cold sensation curl up tight and tense in your stomach. The feeling of standing at the edge of a long drop, knowing you have no choice but to let go.
His eyes are locked on yours, unrelenting, pinning. And then he says, “Do you have feelings for me?”
Right. No way to misinterpret.
You suck in a breath—a gasp, jerking at the question even though you knew it was coming.
You could lie. It’d be easy to do, just a few movements of tongue, jaw, and lips. No, I don’t. Three easy words. You could say you appreciate him as a teammate, as a professional, as someone you can trust in tough situations. He has your back; you have his. Anything beyond that is too much, to far outside of the commanding officer-subordinate hierarchy.
But you can’t lie to him. He’ll know. He’s trained in looking for tells, for the slightest quirk to denote that you’re holding back the truth. That, and you don’t want to lie to him.
Instead, quietly, you say, “Yes,” and inwardly brace for impact. Any kind of dressing-down from your C.O. and reminder of responsibilities and duties; or on a personal level, that Ghost doesn’t do relationships. You’re tensed up, waiting for its inevitable blow and all the shrapnel that’s definitely going to land right in your heart.
“Oh,” he says.
Oh.
Just one syllable, said deceptively, uncharacteristically soft. It belies so many things—possibilities, dangers. This man is fucking complicated.
And then he takes a step toward you. Just one. Just enough to close the gap that many inches. You don’t back up, but you’re too afraid to walk to him, unsure of what’s coming next.
He’s looking down at you, gaze passive, calm, and strangely open. You’ve learned new and interesting ways to read his eyes since you fell for him, but this one has an unknown definition, a kinesic oddity that you can’t translate.
And for a moment, you let yourself hope.
Then, he says your name. Not Ladybird. Not your rank. Your name. The sound of it is a rush in your ears, in your whole head, through every artery, vein, and capillary. He takes another step, slower than the first, drawing in closer before he says, “Do you want this?”
You nod. There’s nothing else you can do. You take a step toward him, looking up into his eyes and trying to read everything there. “Do you?” you ask. You’re still waiting for the rejection, as though Ghost is the type of person to lure you in only to shut you down.
Rejection doesn’t come. Instead, he steps forward to close the gap, one of his hands finding your waist.
“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”
Holy shit.
You stare at him in surprise, and the look on your face must be ridiculously easy to read. His other hand goes up under your chin, tilting your face toward him. The touch of his fingers is exactly like you imagined, the callouses on his thumb brushing over the soft skin underneath your jaw, causing you to shiver.
Ghost leans in close to your left side, skull’s grin close to your ear, and whispers, “Thought you hated me. Every time I looked at you, you’d look away.”
A near-hysterical laugh bubbles up in your throat, and comes out as a compressed, breathless giggle. All that time, you were so hopelessly in love with him, you couldn’t look at him without feeling like your heart was about to give out; and he interpreted that as dislike.
“God, no,” you say. “Total opposite.”
He laughs in your ear, and the sound chases out the remainder of that cold tension, replacing it with a newfound heat that feels good. “Wish I’d known sooner,” he says, and one of his hands goes up to push a strap of your backpack off your shoulder.
You ease out of it, dropping it to the floor, before reaching out and tentatively touching his waist in return. Through the fabric of his hoodie, you can feel how solid he is underneath, and you run your hand along his side in silent wonder.
Ghost moves back suddenly, and you only have a second to question why before the light goes out, leaving you in muted darkness permeated only by the bare sliver of sunlight filtering through your curtain. One hand finds your waist again, pulling you close, walking you toward your bed.
All you can think is no fucking way over and over, even as the back of your legs hit the side of the bed, and Ghost is lowering you down. Your back touches the mattress, head on the pillow, and Ghost is over the top of you, his hands bracketing your head. He looks down at you, mostly in shadow, only the bright white of the skull motif visible in the darkness. Then, his eyes flicker to his left, and he abruptly snorts.
You furrow your brow. “What?”
Wordlessly, his hand moves to the right of your head, and he picks up your phone.
Your phone which is still on, showing the emoji-heavy conversation with Soap. Ghost flips the phone to show you the last text he sent.
Skull emoji, kiss, black heart, red heart, ladybug, eggplant, peach, confetti ball, birthday cake.
“What the fuck, Soap?” you say under your breath, grabbing the phone from Ghost. You quickly turn it off and shove it onto your bedside table, groaning in embarrassment.
Ghost shakes his head, and unlike Soap, he doesn’t remark on it. Instead, he brings the situation right back on the rails with one hand going up under your shirt. Then, he says, “Close your eyes a second.”
You do, without question. You hear a faint rustle of fabric, and then his lips press against yours.
You gasp against his mouth, and that thrill you felt at hearing your name seems to rush back through you twofold at the thought that he took his mask off for you. He kisses you firmly, a guarantee that this is what he wants. You reach up with one hand, combing your fingers through his hair, nails scraping along his scalp and drawing out a quiet groan. He smells like standard-issue soap and laundry detergent, and the faint spice of cologne only just clinging to his skin. The feeling of kissing him is dizzying, entrancing, and the sound of it just hammers home that this is happening to you, in your room, with him.
He pulls back just a little, kissing a trail from the corner of your mouth down to your chin, then your jaw, and up to your ear. The sensation makes you shiver again, arching up into him involuntarily. You hear and feel an amused huff of breath, before he says, “What do you want?”
Good god, what don’t you want?
“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “Anything. Whatever you want.”
He nods against your neck, then tilts his head up to press a kiss to your temple. “Tell me if it’s too much, or if there’s something you don’t like. Communicate.”
You grin, mostly at the sotto voce version of his command voice. “Yes, sir.”
He huffs a laugh and continues kissing down your neck, down to the hemline of your shirt. Undressing comes as an easy next step, shoes off first (and they were on the bed, ugh), and then Ghost pulls your shirt up; you lift yourself enough to help him pull it over your head. In the darkness, he does the same, and you watch his silhouette remove his hoodie, then pull his shirt over his head and drop it off the side of the bed. You can’t see his face, but the faint beam of sunlight touches his hair and brings out a hint of pale gold. It feels like a secret shared between you, adding to that warmth building up inside.
He leans back down, kissing down your sternum to the upper hem of your sports bra. He starts to go lower, and you decide then that you’d like to take at least a little initiative.
“Wait,” you whisper. “Come back up here.”
He does, like he’s accustomed to obeying your orders rather than the other way around. You reach up and touch his chest, eager to feel this part of him, the one he typically buries under layers of clothing and gear. He sighs at your touch, head dropping down to rest on the pillow beside you.
He’s firm and toned with well-honed muscle earned through endless missions and exercise. At the same time, the skin of his chest is surprisingly soft—even the scattered network of scars and keloids that mark his body. You feel old and new wounds, some still raised as they heal, some concave with age. They’re long, short, thick, thin, orderly, and jagged. Starbursts of bullet wounds, hard lines of cuts, spatters of shrapnel, textured lines of old stitches. His whole torso tells a long, tragic story from cover to cover, chest to back.
But he leans into this read of him, letting you feel every scar, every painful moment. His breathing is steady in your ear, giving way to the occasional sigh as your fingers trail over his skin.
In turn, he touches you. You don’t have even a fraction of his scars, but you have a few he can note. You know when he touches them, by the way his touch lingers, learning each one. It feels reverential, or communal—the two of you engaging in a silent trust exercise. He doesn’t ask about them, and neither do you. All of that is for another time.
Ghost presses a kiss to your shoulder, then pushes up until he’s over top of you again. His free hand goes down to the waistline of your jeans, finger tracing teasingly over the zipper. “Can I?”
“Yeah,” you say, breathless. As if you’d say anything else.
He undoes the button, then the zipper, slowly pulling your jeans to your hips, then removing them entirely. He sits up on the edge of the bed for a moment, removing his boots, then his jeans. You lay there, watching him move, feeling your arousal start to grow and burn like a low flame.
When he touches you again, you silently agree that you wish you’d said or done something sooner. It’s bliss. He’s gentle with you, mindful even, in a way you’ve never experienced or anticipated from someone like him. He helps you out of your bra, letting you pull it all the way off before his hands palm your breasts in slow, deliberate movements. It’s an extension of his exploratory touches, learning your body inch by inch.
Your breathing quickens, and Ghost looks up at you in what you guess is concern. “Doing alright?” he asks.
Your face grows hot, and you nod, turning your head to kiss his cheek. “I’m fine,” you reply. “I just don’t know what to do.”
It’s not like you haven’t had sex before, but sex with him feels completely different, like it doesn’t belong in the same category. You’ve never wanted someone this badly, or had someone respond to you like this. It’s almost overwhelming, but Ghost reaches up and combs some of your hair away from your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Lie back a bit,” he instructs. “And tell me if you need me to stop.”
You do as he says, leaning up against the pillows as he moves down your body, leaving a trail of kisses down your torso to your hips. He’s a shadow moving over you, long and languid, and every touch just adds to the mounting heat. When his fingers touch the hem of your underwear, you shiver in anticipation, then arch your hips to give him a little leverage in removing them. In one motion, you’re exposed to him, even in the dark. Yet after touching him, and him touching you, you don’t feel as vulnerable. If anything, this feels safe. This feels right.
His hands go to your hips, then run slowly along the outer sides of your thighs. You think he might fulfill that fantasy from earlier, fingering you until you’re a mess, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure with his skilled hands.
Which is why it surprises the hell out of you when he goes lower, until his head is between your thighs, sunlight leaving gold stripes along his back.
“Ghost,” you gasp.
He looks up at you, and now more than ever, you wish you could see his face. You only see the faint shine of his eyes, but at that moment, it’s enough.
Then he spreads you, and licks a stripe from your opening to your clit.
If you were entertaining any thoughts before, any fantasies carefully curated in those rare hours of alone time, they flee in that single movement. Even the Ghost of your imagination never did this, tasting and savoring you in long, slow laps that make your whole brain short out like a blown fuse. The sound is goddamn obscene, especially as he leans in close and starts to lap at your clit. It’s a shock of sound in the silence, louder than even your own noises when you got yourself off.
Your right hand finds his head, fingers running through his hair as he licks you. He alternates between short laps and long strokes, tongue circling around your clit, teasing you, making you shudder and moan. It’s frustrating and fucking heavenly, the sensation of ebb and flow, receding and rushing waves of heat building up then flowing back.
Right when you think you can’t take the teasing anymore, he switches tactics. The teasing abruptly ends, and Ghost gets relentless.
You moan way too loud when he sucks at your clit, tongue swirling around it, the sound of his mouth on you loud as a gunshot. You swear they have to hear it down the hallway, or anywhere on base. At this point, though, you really don’t care who hears you, because they don’t have Ghost between their legs, getting them off in ways no deity ever intended.
Then his fingers join his mouth, index tracing circles around your entrance, dipping in slowly, tauntingly.
“Fuck.” The word is sharp in the air, as you arch at the sensation.
It’s too much; it’s not enough.
He tilts his head up a little, but when he speaks, you feel his warm breath ghost over your sex. “Let me hear you,” he says, words drawn straight out of your fantasies. Every door containing that imaginary version of Ghost is unlocked, every bulkhead breached—that Ghost and this one are one in the same.
And when he pushes that first finger into you, you follow his order to the letter.
It comes out as a broken wail, cut off when he starts thrusting and licking you in alternate strokes. His pace quickens, merciless, sharp eyes watching you from the shadows as your head rolls back on the pillow, chest heaving to catch a single solid breath. Your hands drop to your sides, fisting the sheets just to have something to hang onto, any kind of anchor as Ghost guides you through a tempest.
You moan his name, last consonant catching on a sob of pleasure when he starts to add a second finger. Only then does he pause, and the absence of his mouth is stark.
Then he says your name, temporarily drawing you out of the cumulonimbus of arousal you’re flying through, briefly bringing you back to earth.
You look down at him, the silhouette of his head, small locks of hair sticking up from where your fingers combed through. You see him tilt his head to rest his cheek against your inner thigh, and his voice rolls out like a dull roar of thunder in your ears. “It’s Simon,” he says. “I wanna hear you say it.”
Somehow, hearing his real name in the midst of all this is almost too much. Like the last little vestige of a play on stage falling away and revealing the inner workings of the backstage, all the ropes and pullies holding the show together. He’s more exposed now, more raw, more human.
You reach down, trembling hand brushing over his cheek, over stubble and scar tissue, and the soft skin of a very real face.
“Simon,” you whisper. It sounds like a confession.
He doesn’t reply, but you feel him smile against your hand, briefly turning his head to press a kiss against your palm. Then he’s lowering himself down again, coaxing you out of the eye of the storm and back into the maelstrom. Two fingers thrust and curl, filling you, leaving you empty, touching places that send bolts of pleasure through you.
Your pulse becomes the thunder of the helo’s blades, your body trembling with midair turbulence. Simon fucks you on his fingers, tongue lathing over your clit, mouth fucking worshiping you. He takes you to that precipice, the long fall, the drop through cloud cover to a faintly-marked point on the earth.
The step off the edge feels like perfect, natural progression.
Your orgasm sweeps through you from toe to tip, a roll of white-out pleasure shaking you, wringing a cry out of your mouth that makes Simon fuck you harder. His fingers don’t let up, working you through the tidal wave, taking you to shore on the other side.
You’re boneless at the end, slumping back on the pillow and panting, shivering, taking stock of your limbs and extremities as they each come back online after the outage. You only vaguely register the feeling of Simon moving on the bed, coming up to lay beside you.
He murmurs your name, then kisses you, and you can smell and taste yourself on him. Your hand goes up to run along his jawline, one rogue thought telling you, yeah, you can cut glass with it.
How everything gets so gentle afterwards is beyond you. Simon’s hand is on your face, thumb brushing the soft skin under your right eye. You can feel his erection against your leg, and somewhere in the back of your mind—still tingling with pleasure, shimmering bright and brilliant—you know how you’re going to take initiative.
You break the kiss just for a moment, delighting in the soft sigh of protest you hear and feel against your cheek. Then you lean in close, pitching your voice low like his, hoping it has the same effect on him.
“Hope you don’t have any plans this weekend,” you say, brushing your hand over his shoulder.
You feel him smile against your skin, and he shakes his head.
“Thought you were heading out,” he says.
“Only if you’re going with me.”
One arm goes around your waist, pulling you close as he nuzzles against your neck. “We have some time, though, right?” his voice slides over you, suggestion clear and presented like a gift.
God, yeah you do.
---
Somewhere in between rounds, your phone goes off on your bedside stand.
Once.
Twice.
You don’t hear it, and the short buzz is drowned out by moans and the soft slap of skin on skin. When Simon makes a move like he’s going to check on it, you hook him back in place with your leg around his waist, pulling him in close, then kissing him silent. He falls into it, all too happy to oblige.
So you miss the skull and ladybug emojis, then the volume symbol.
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#cod mw2#simon ghost riley x you#em dash and italics party is here to staaaay#can you believe this was going to be longer#am i super happy with it? not totally but it was p fun
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What happens to Teen Fushiguro in the Shibuya Arc after Kenjaku & Mahito kidnap her?
Ah yes, I forgot about this one. Okay, so I imagine that they take you underground or wherever their lair is and like idk... cast spells on you to keep you from using your powers against them. You continue to threaten them, hurl insults at them and they find it amusing because 1. You're a child 2. You don't even know how easily they could kill you. 3. You're a child, why are you trying to fight the boss fights??💀
Anyways, you grow on them and they do end up becoming yanderes for you too. I mean, Kenjaku is like grandfather/guardian figure to you, and if like Getou is still alive/concious inside him, then he's like an uncle/godfather figure to you. They're bothe very protective, Getou more than Kenjaku, while Kenjaku is more like those veteran granddads who want you to become the best version of yourself and be independent, so they don't help you unless they absolutely do need to step in, but nevertheless love you. And once you do learn whatever skill/lesson he wanted you to, or actually become independent, he does not want you to use those new skills or become independent and stop relying on him for "protection" (even if u don't want it in the first place) or leave him/try to replace him. Nuh uh.
Same goes for Getou too, only he's far more gentle with you. Of course he wants you to be stronger and independent too, but he's far more likely too jump in to help you way before any true harm befalls you. He's softer in his lessons, always has that gentle smile on his face as he dodges whatever attack you launch on him. Encouraging words as he pats your head while you're on the ground trying to catch your breath.
As for Mahito, he's much more like an annoying older brother who bullies you for shits and giggles but God forbid if anyone else hurts you. I mean he'd still make fun of you for getting hurt, but rest assured whoever harmed you is now obliterated.
Your time with them is spent with Kenjaku provoking you and finding whatever it is that makes you tick and then having you spar with curses or with Mahito (who takes great joy in being a jerk). And sure, compared to all of their other victims, you're in "paradise," but in reality, your mental is taking a plunge very fast. Because Kenjaku and Mahito have realised your trigger point-
Abandonment issues.
So they use that against you. Everyday, they tell you that your father left you, that Megumi never fought hard enough for you because he didn't like you, that Gojo knew Megumi had a sister but he didn't take you in with him, and that the Zenin clan did consider you a nuisance which is why they let Gojo take you to Jujutsu High, just so that Gojo can use you as a weapon.
And sure, you'd argue that none of it is true but when a lie is told enough times, it starts to feel like the truth. So with the constant feed of negative words and being cut off from the outside world, reader couldn't help but believe all those lies, and that's how her self esteem and mental health took a turn for worse. She becomes more isolated, more quiet, more... dead. She lacks the energy to fight off those curses, not even fazed as they come a little too close to actually killing you (obv Kenjaku or Mahito step in before they can). And this is the point where they think that now that they have broken you down, they can start building you up again... and have you join their side of the battle. Of course, you're still against that, just not putting any actual effort into reacting to them, but then... they bring Megumi.
Or well, Sukuna occupying Megumi's body.
You instantly recognised them both- recognised the shift in the energy, recognised the monster who was disguised as your brother and you broke down. Fell to your knees, sobbed hard enough for your body to shake until Sukuna gathered you in his arms and moved to a private space, away from prying eyes.
You cried and cried, and Sukuna didn't need you to actually say anything for him to understand. You were mourning for your brother, who you knew has a target on his back now that he was Sukuna's vessel, who wouldnt be leaving him so easily. He just patted your back and assured you that everything will be alright if you just listen to him, made you remember how he promised that he'd always be there for you, made you promise to stick by his side and nothing bad will ever happen to you.
"Sukuna?" Your teary voice croaked, the curse king hummed in response. "Promise you won't hurt Megumi? Won't let anyone else hurt Megumi?"
Despite everything, you still cared for your brother. You didn't really need him, but the way you begged... Sukuna didn't have the heart to say no.
"Okay. Only if you listen to me." You nodded, sniffling as you rested your head against his shoulder.
From there on, I think that Kenjaku will continue to help you weild your powers to become the perfect vessel for Sukuna (who has actually no intention of using you as a vessel, no he just wants you by his side for eternity, all for him to spoil and pamper). You follow Sukuna's rules, stay indoors and only come out when he let's you accompany him, sometimes he'd let you enter his domain expansion so that you could meet Megumi, who tries to convince you run for your life and don't worry about him.
Now, I like to think that a point comes when Gojo is finally free from the prison realm and is now ready to beat everyone's asses, and that's when Sukuna mentions how he has been having a good time with you, which only provokes Gojo to fucking murder him and even Megumi, before he finally decides to just beat his ass and look for you (probably when you stop Gojo from killing Megumi) and that's how Gojo ends up snatching you away as you scream for Sukuna to not kill Megumi, beg Gojo to let you go because Sukuna would kill Megumi if you're not there. And all of this sounds like Stockholm syndrome to Gojo and the gang, who again, keep you under lock and key.
#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#yandere Kenjaku#yandere getou suguru#yandere geto suguru#yandere geto x reader#yandere getou#yandere geto#yandere mahito#yandere gojo saturo#yandere gojo satoru#yandere sukuna ryomen#yandere sukuna#yandere sakuna#yandere#yandere gojo#yandere gojo x reader
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yandere rin itoshi>>>
he will be soooo cold and not outwardly affectionate (at first) but on the inside he is absolutely OBSESSED.
like rin will seem literally so indifferent to you, but every-time you glance at him, he’ll be purposely not making eye contact because if he does he will be SOOOO RED, because even though it doesn’t show, your slightest acknowledgment cause rin to FREAK out. ‘omg omg omg she’s looking at me what do i do… she’s so pretty fuck i love her so much. if she keeps looking over here i don’t think i’ll be able to restrain myself🙏🙏🙏.’
you would think that when you start dating it gets better but bro… it gets worse💀💀💀. you’ll text him, not anything specific, just a normal text, something as simple as ‘hi, what are you up to?’ and he will leave you on read. it takes him around 8 hours to reply because he is overfilled with joy that you texted him. he is giggling and kicking his feet in the air type shit.
one day you texted him, asking if he wanted to get dinner, this was the first time that rin’s teammates have ever witnessed him smile. you texted him before his game against the U-20 japan team, wishing him luck and telling him you’d be cheering in the stands, and omfg. everyone in that locker room was like 🙀. rin was straight up smiling, and not one of those devious smiles his teammates were used to, this smile was a soft, ‘i’m so in love’ smile. you best believe that someone, (bachira), teased him PROFUSELY.
talking about the U-20 game, the first thing he did on court, before directing murderous thoughts towards his brother, was look for you in the stands. when he found you, he smiled softly, which you 100% could not see because well, you didn’t bring binoculars. after the match, he went to find you immediately, he didn’t even bother changing out of his jersey, so bro was sweaty as hell.
he hugged you incredibly tight, like bone crushingly tight. he lifted you up the ground and was kissing you profusely. this was actually the turning point in your relationship where rin started showing affection.
he introduced you to the blue lock team that day, just because he did not want to let you out of his sight for a second but he had to recuperate with ego and the team. so essentially. rin forced you to wait outside the locker rooms for him while he showered and since he was clinging to you straight after the match, his teammates finished before him and walked out of the locker room to see you, in rin’s jacket.
again, everyone went 🙀. you were bombarded with questions about your relationship, and by the time rin finished with his shower, you were already well acquainted with the blue lock boys.
rin was not happy about this at all. how dare they, his rivals, talk to you. he definitely dragged you away and kept you for himself, if his teammates and you exchanged numbers, he’d immediately block them and delete them off your phone.
he wouldn’t show his obsessive tendencies until you’ve been in a relationship with him for longer, the only reason he hadn’t kept you exclusively by his side so far was because he didn’t have the power to do so. he forces you to go to all of his games, press conferences, sometimes he’ll even drag you along to his practice whether you are busy or not, in fact, you probably won’t be busy because he’s made sure that you don’t have a job with long hours or a job at all. oh? what if you’re hanging out with friends? well, that won’t do… it’s time for some guilt tripping. “oh… but I need you there, are you friends more important than me?”
You’ll be spending every hour of the day with him, because after his games, press conferences and practices, he’ll bring you out for a meal, and then you’re going back home with him.
rin is the type of person who wants their loved one to rely solely on them. he’s really subtle with it too. he’ll slowly incorporate himself into every factor of your life, he wants your life to revolve around him, just as much as his revolves around you.
If you ever do realise how possessive and frankly, psycho he is, and try to leave him... well, i did say this man is a simp, rin will be begging on his knees, tears falling out of his eyes, hugging you tightly and not letting you go. honestly, you’ll be shocked because this is the first time you’ve seen him be sooooo emotional.
and if you try to get help from law enforcement? well, i hate to break it to you, but that’s never gonna work, because blue lock, and subsequently the government spent so much money to make these insane strikers and rin is one of, if not, the best strikers in the world. it’ll be covered up and you’ll be trapped.
as soon as you’re in captivity, his affection will dial up to 110%. now, he let’s his innermost thoughts out, because you’re finally all his. <3
#yandere rin itoshi#yandere itoshi rin#yandere rin itoshi x reader#yandere itoshi rin x reader#rin itoshi x reader#itoshi rin x reader#blue lock x reader#yandere blue lock#rin itoshi#itoshi rin#yandere blue lock x reader#s4fmaj fics
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cherry flavoured
15— SWORN TO SECRECY
SYNOPSIS: y/n, the campuses notorious heartbreaker, had never been one to settle down, running from the word commitment since the concept had first been introduced to her, but one smile and a little cherry coke seems to do just the trick when she runs into captain of the dance team, park jisung
PAIRING: dancer!jisung x fem!reader
WARNING: swearing, gaslighting
NOTES: formatting this chapter has been an absolute nightmare and the written cut dont even get me started 👺 I wanted to improve it but I'm so sick of rewriting this chapter that I've given up 💀
jisung had noticed the unusual glossiness of her eyes the second he saw her, her nose slightly pink as she sniffled in the cold. he chooses to stay quiet, noticing the deep breath she forces herself to take before a smile takes over her features.
y/n was dressed appropriately for the weather in a white oversized jacket and matching skirt— something new to her usual basketball uniform or casual jeans and whatever top she could find combo. it was different, a good kind of course.
"you look gorgeous" he said
really jisung thought she looked a lot more than just plain simple gorgeous but the fear of messing things up before their date even began was far too strong for him to speak otherwise
"you too, living up to your name i see pretty boy"
jisung stifled a laugh, though his smile grew wider and his gums were on perfect display, hands gripping the wheel tightly in front of him
the car ride itself was quiet, too many thoughts flooding each of their minds to even consider conversation, but when they found themselves amidst the lights, stood at the entrance of the winter fair, conversation fell upon them with ease.
"should we go on that ride" jisung doesn't know why he suggests the ride he dreads most first, a roller coaster that spans half of the park with way too many twists and turns to be considered normal and a couple upside down moments that had his stomach flipping even whilst stood on the ground— pointing towards the queue with a slightly shaky finger
y/n gulps, "sure" suddenly regretting her choice of the city fair for her first date, although there were a thousand other stalls and much more tame rides for them to go on, she didn't want to disappoint the boy who walked beside her by saying no
the queue for the ride is comparatively short, and suddenly the two find themselves in the next group to go on.
the redhead let's her eyes trace up to latch onto the boy's, his jaw clenched when a tight lipped smile made its way onto his face, noticing how she stared his way
the uncertainty in her eyes doesn't go unnoticed by jisung as she let's her gaze flicker between the loop de loops of the roller coaster and his warm toned eyes, he smiles, more fully this time
"you don't like roller coasters do you love?" a breath of air that she hadn't known she was holding in presses past her lips, she nods, unsure
but jisung lightly holds her arm to guide them away from the rush of excited children and couples behind them, running past the now open gates of the ride to get the best seat, and towards the centre of the park
"I'm glad" he says before y/n can mutter out the apology already resting on her lips, "I don't either" he hesitates, "actually I hate them"
There's a moment of silence before the both of them break out into fits of laughter, relief washing over the two, the screams of fear and terror ringing in the air behind them, regretful eyes staring at them, who had made it away from the deathly ride just in time.
"how about we go on this one instead" this time y/n follows jisungs finger to the smaller, less overwhelming ride that causes excitement to bubble in her chest, nodding eagerly at the sight of the short queue before grabbing his hand in hers and running towards it, cute
somewhere between then and their small walk to the funnel cake stand, jisung let his hand envelope hers, interlacing his fingers with her contrastingly cold ones as they walked through the fair ground
"I've always wanted to have my first date at the fair" she sighed, letting the cool air hit her slighlty puffed out cheeks, content written over her every feature
"how come?" jisungs one hand is stuffed into the pocket of his coat, the other occupied by y/n's
"they say it's good luck" she shrugs, "apparently there's one night a year where if you come to the fair on a date, you'll never know heartbreak again" she laughs, jisung raising a brow at the odd action, a constant with the unpredictable girl beside him
"you don't believe it?"
"well not exactly, but it's more fun to believe these things are true than to waste too much time sulking that they aren't" she straightens up at the site of a warm cake being offered towards her by the lady behind the stall, quickly thanking her before focusing her attention on him again
"I heard the whole park is meant to be devoted to the architects first love" jisung takes a hold of y/n's purse subconsciously, as she offers a piece of the cake to him, "that's why they hold the fair here"
"its nice to know people arent afriad to be in love" y/n smiles, barely finding the conversation awkward and jisung hums in agreement, stripping off his jacket, unknowingly pulling the girl away from the spiral of thoughts she'd been heading down as he offers it out to her
"you're shivering" he chuckles, placing it over her shoulders, to which she thankfully beams up at him with another smile
"won't you be cold?" jisung shakes his head at the question.
he lied, there was no way he wouldn't be cold, but he didn't mind, besides he didn't get sick easily, and he knew y/n did, another fact she'd let slip somewhere during their hangouts that jisung had made a mental note of, like with most things she'd said
she was unpredictable to anyone else but jisung was beginning to hope that wouldn't be the case with him
he barely notices the way she's crouched down now, eye to eye with a teary eyed girl who desperately clutches a fluffy unicorn in her right hand, and wipes the tears running down her cheek with her left, hopeful eyes locked with y/n's
"are you lost?" the little girl nods between sobs, struggling to breathe as she chokes back on the salty droplets falling from her eyes
y/n's lips protrude into a small pout "who did you come with?"
the little girl mutters something under her breath and when y/n turns to look at jisung, she can only confirm that neither of them could understand what she had said.
a familiar voice echoes behind the two, desperately shouting, assumably in search of the young girl who had clasped y/n's free hand, running back to the blonde boy who she recognised as her older brother
jisung easily takes notice of the way y/n freezes, unmoving for the few moments after she realises who it is stood to her left, jaw slack before she clenched it shut
despite the lingering taste of cinnamon sugar on his lips jisung felt his mood turn sour at the sight of choi jiung, gripping y/n's hand more firmly and walking away before the choi could even thank them, though jisung half expected that wouldn't have hapenned in the first place considering the sinister smirk that lined his lips
"you okay love?"
she nods, not so convincingly, but enough for jisung to loosen his grip slightly
"I wasn't expecting to run into him is all"
"do you want to sit down for a bit?"
y/n shakes her head, tilting to face the ferris wheel behind them
"how about we take a ride?"
if he could blush, jisung knows he would've, though the cold doesn't let him and all he can do is nod
anyone knew what reaching the top of the ferris wheel meant, but jisung could only fiddle with the rings on his fingers, watching the fairground from above, and finally turning his gaze to y/n, who's eyes shone down with such warmth, his jacket still resting over her torso
"thank you" she whispered, leaning forward, pink lips teasingly waving in front of him
"why are you thanking me love?"
"for today, this was my first date ji and I'm glad it was with you"
jisung smiles, proud that of all her firsts in life, he'd gotten to be her first date, and he knew, he'd like to be her last too
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#nct smau#nct dream smau#nct jisung#nct jisung x reader#park jisung x you#park jisung x reader#jisung x you#jisung x reader#jisung x y/n#park jisung x y/n#nct dream x y/n#nct dream x oc#nct dream x you#nct dream x reader#nct x female reader#nct x y/n#nct x oc#nct x you#nct x reader#kpop smau#jisung#jisung imagines#jisung fluff#park jisung#park jisung au#nct dream fake texts#nct dream jisung#nct dream imagines#nct imagine#cherry flavoured 🍒
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NYCTM: A moment with you || part IV
neteyamxfem!human reader
🎐content warning; little bit of angst, jealous neteyam, 🎐fluff [trust me on this one]
🎐a/n; no synopsis since I tend to slip away💀 as usual your feedbacks will encourage to write more! Reblogs are okay🤍 Enjoy reading!
edit: I finally fix🥹 after posting this I went to sleep right away.
3.6k words. part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5
“Can someone switch places with me? If staring can cause death, you guys would be crying right now”
Tilting your head slightly to take a glance on the man who just touch your face just a while ago. His stares is so deadly that you can tell, a hole is being drilled at the back of your head
“Maybe if you are not so close to Nate, he will stop”
Brows arching you turn to look at Spider who is eating. He shrug his shoulder as if his words were a matter of fact. You let out a annoyed huff and went to sit beside Max. All of you are gathered here since Jake invited you to take part with the celebration
You finish your food quickly and excuse yourself to go to the hut where the Sully family arranged for you and the others to have a space to put your things while you guys are here. Grabbing your bag, you pull out your diary and stare down at the drawings. Your mind immediately eases as you let out a sigh, if everything’s coming down all you have to is stare at this drawings and your mind will immediately be at ease
“Hey, you good?”
Nate had followed you noticing the discomfort you were feeling, you nodded and the man sat beside you. Resting your head on his shoulders, you felt his arm wrap around your shoulder
“I know Max told me to take it easy but how? These memories just keeps on coming like a flood”
Nate hum and his fingers carress your arm making you relax, closing your eyes you let everything go away. When Nate came into your life, he help you get back to your own feet. He was there through ups and down, supporting you on whatever your antics were
One time, you questioned him on what is the white thing that is falling down the sky. He told you the meaning of it and what are the fun things to do with it. The moment you ask him to teach him how, he held your hands and lead you outside. You can still remember the two of you playing and laying down while laughing to your hearts out
“Want to get away from here? I know you have been dying to see all the corners of this forest”
You immediately move away and look at him, you can’t hold back your smile
“You really know how to comfort me huh?”
“Ofcourse! What are friends for?”
You laugh and the two of you ran out, away from there.
Neteyam notices that you didn’t come back neither the man who pulled you away from him earlier, eyes meeting his. Oh how much he want to send the man flying across the other side
“I see you, Y/N”
He was about to hug when someone pulled you and put you behind him. He let out a low groal, the man before him look at him with displeased and Neteyam wanted nothing more to punch him straight on the face
“Get back. She’s not someone you can touch easily.”
“You—“
“Bro! Let’s get you dress up for the celebration!”
Lo’ak intervened and drag Neteyam away from the scene, Neytiri hiss at Nate before following her sons. Spider push Nate not too hard and glared at him
“You are the one who can’t touch Y/N easily, dimwit”
Neteyam got up and was about to go to the hut where his father provided for you but he saw two figures running. He caught a glimpse of your hair and immediately decided to follow but he wish, he didn’t.
Your smiling face, hands being held by someone other than him, warmth that was only for him to feel. If only he have his bow right now, he would of shot that man’s face
“Look at this Nate! This is so cool!”
Neteyam watch you from a far, how you took off your shoes to let your toes feel the ground. How you twirl around, your sweet voice. Ah, his hopelessly inlove with you.
“Aren’t they pretty?“
He heard you ask and he swear to Eywa, he could have revealed himself and strangle the man’s neck when he tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear
“Yeah… so pretty”
Although your reaction made Neteyam’s heart calm down as you only laugh and ressume admiring the beauty of his home.
‘That’s right. You don’t deserve her affection, skxawng’
“Sorry for this…”
You shyly whispered but that didn’t escape the Olo’eyktan’s ears, making him smile. For you to be riding with his ikran, your back press to his chest. You simply wish that this ride will end swiftly. You didn’t think he would offer to take you with him, I mean, it’s Neteyam! The Olo’eyktan!
‘For the love of God, calm my heart down’
“Do you want to see more? The view when you’re above the forest is majestic!”
Lo’ak said making you get intrigued more, it’s been a month now ever since you came back and you can say that you have seen most of the things on the forest now. So what Lo’ak just suggested just made spark something inside you
“Really?! Then me and Nate can fly through aircraft. We can fo—“
“No no! We will ride our ikrans~ I promise you that it will be better than riding those”
You look at Nate who is sitting beside you, he looked at you and just nod
“Then maybe we can ride with you Lo’ak? me and her”
Lo’ak click his tongue and wave his hands. He stood up and place his hands on the side of his hips
“You are flying with me Nate”
You look at the younger Sully if that’s the arrangement. Then who’s going to take you? A smirk appeared on Lo’ak’s lips then his eyes move to look at the person who just came in
“Oh don’t worry Y/N! My big bro will fly with you!!”
Neteyam suddenly maneuvered his ikran to sideways and you let out a yelp and you couldn’t help but grab tight on his arms, this earn a laugh from him. He touch your arm and whispered something that you can’t help but open your eyes
“I got you. Open your eyes and witness the beauty of Eywa’s creation”
You first let out a breath to relax yourself and when you feel the steady movement you slowly open your eyes and can’t help but gasp
Mountains floating, water falling from it. Kinds of birds you haven’t seen flying past by you and Neteyam. You look down and saw the incredible view, if the forest looks so pretty from the ground what more from above?
“Told ya you would enjoy it! Now let’s go HIGHEEEER!!! Wooohhooooo!!!”
“LO’AKKKKK!!!!!!!”
You heard Lo’ak and Nate scream but more like Nate’s is screaming for his life. You nervously laugh and turn slowly to face Neteyam
“You surely wouldn’t right?”
He smirk at you and your face went pale
“Hold tight, girlie”
You scream when his ikran suddenly fly up high that you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his. You swear you blurted out all the bad words you know, making Neteyam just laugh at your reaction
“You can open your eyes now. You wouldn’t want to miss this”
“No! If I’m to open them, I will die!”
Neteyam let out a chuckle and wrap his one arm around your waist, you grip more tightly on his other laugh with his sudden move, he lean down so he can whisper into your ears
“I won’t let you go, I promise”
Something in his words assured you so you took your time calming yourself, when you were calm enough. You open your eyes and saw the sea of clouds before you, the sun settling above but it’s warm doesn’t hurt your eyes neither your skin. You can feel a different kind of warm radiating from the sun
“Beautiful…”
Neteyam look at your expression, it’s the same expression you had when you two were flying together
“Yes, very beautiful”
After some time all of you decided to go down now as the eclipse is nearing. You can feel your legs being all wobbly the moment you got down, luckily Neteyam is there to hold you. Still remembering how his arms were wrap around your waist, blush creep into your cheeks
“Thank you for today, Neteyam”
“No worries. Although I want to show you something and I know you haven’t gone there”
You tilt your head at the side and was about to ask him when a arm forcefully grab you
“Nate! Did you see th—“
“Let’s go home. Max must be worried”
“Huh? But…”
You turn to look at Neteyam and he have this expression that can be interpreted that he wants to tackle Nate down. You grab your arm away from Nate and ran to Neteyam
“Let’s go some other time, yeah? See you Neteyam!”
You said and wave goodbye to him as you angrily walk pass by Nate.
Neteyam watch you disappear from his sight, looking at his hands that was touching you today. Lo’ak notice this and elbowed his brother
“So? Did you manage to catch her attention this time?”
Neteyam laugh and put his arm around his brother’s shoulder and the both of them walk towards their home
“You should have throw that annoying fly. He won’t die, I just know that”
Lo’ak fake a shock expression
“Damn! That came from our olo’eyktan? You’re crazy bro”
Neteyam shake his head with a smile on his lips
“Just crazy in love brother”
This morning Norm and Max told you that they need to show you something, it was something that you have achieved before you got knock out, yeah you called your disease like that. It’s already afternoon and you are bored to your hearts out waiting for them to come back, you want to go out but the chance of you seeing Neteyam might be the cause of your anothe knock out
“One more kiss?” Neteyam beg
“Fine!”
You can feel your face heating up and you immediately bury your head on the pillow screaming, unlike all of the memories you have been seeing, all of them are blurry but this time, it was so clear that you can’t brush it off
‘Just who is Neteyam to my life?!’
“That brother, is you call a human about to become a worm”
Your head whipped at the side so fast you heard something crack, you rub your neck and glared at Spider who came in with Lo’ak and Kiri
“Everyone! Except with that person whose name is disgusting”
Lo’ak laugh and lightly hit Spider on the chest, Kiri giggled as she walk towards you
“Hey Kiri! Here to see Dr. Grace again?”
“Yes! I would love to have a chat with you but I’ll talk to my mother first~”
You laugh and let her go, you know how much she loves her mother. You watch the three of them hang out and you can definitely say that they are close, then you remembered how Lo’ak said that you’d choose hanging out with Neteyam. Maybe that’s why you have those memories with him! But then what about the…
“Waahhhh!!!!”
“Have you finally gone crazy?”
“Max! Norm! I have been waiting! Now what is it you are going to show me?”
The two men look at each other and told you to follow them, they led you to a room and notice that a white cloth is covering something. You see all the monitors as is monitoring something
“And??”
You impatiently remark and Norm told you to calm as they prepare something, you notice a pod that they opened then Max walk over to remove to the cloth and your jaw drop, not literally but you know
“This… this is like Dr. Grace..”
You muttered under your breath and walk around it, you see it flinch as if it’s just sleeping. Features similar on how you look.
“This is what you achieved on such a young age, the moment you tried it out, you were sprinting out only for your heart to lead a failure”
You clench your fist, you have a vague memory of it. Turning to look at Max who is looking at you
“Do you.. do you want to try it again? We figured out that it is time for you to freely explore Pandora. Your body is stronger now, I’m sure you will be okay.”
You glance at the avatar then back to Max, your heart already thumping fast but something is telling you, whispering that if you do this. You will certainly remember the true purpose on why you created this, why you pursued making this
Neteyam is busy on sharpening his hunting tools together with his hunting party when he notice the commotion, several Na’vi ran to take a look and all of them looks like they are circling on something
“Back off! If he sees you guys, he will surely rip your throats out”
Hearing the voice of his brother he immediately stood up, the people made way for him his gaze drop at the woman standing before him. He recognize those garments, it belongs to his sister but the person who’s wearing it is not his sister
He ran down his gaze throughout your body then back to meet your gaze, you bit your lower lip and tuck a strand of your hair
“H-Hi… Neteyam…”
Lo’ak’s lips is curve up into a smile seeing how dumb his brother look, well, all of them were also like this. You look pretty, you can easily rival to the women who is said to be beautiful on the clan
“Y/N…”
You were about to reply when Neteyam suddenly pulled you into a hug, burying his face on the crook of your neck. This earn a mad blush from you as you let out a nervous laugh and patted his back
“Sorry! It’s just… wow!”
You can’t help but laugh and the feeling of you being here, feels like that you belong here. Especially beside Neteyam.
At the other side Jake together with Neytiri, Max and Norm is watching all the commotion, they can’t help but still feel a little bit of worried but they know that this time, Neteyam won’t let anything happened to you. Although all Jake that wants now is for you to remember his son, to remember your love for him. If that’s not too late…
Jake’s eyes narrowed down at Nate who is clenching his fist, as he watch you smile and giggle to whatever Neteyam says to you. Something is bugging Jake about this young man but he decided to take care of it later as he doesn’t want to miss the happy moments of his son
—
Five months have passed and you earn yourself a place on the clan, Neteyam was the one who teach you their way just not to feel left out, he also trained you on how to get yourself a ikran
On those months you have also concluded that you like him, not because of the memories that keeps on coming back but because you saw how he cares for you whether you’re in your human form or avatar form. Neteyam is always true to you
“Remember that time when I told you that I wanted to show you something?”
You two sat on a trunk, the two of you were out hunting as you were ask by Neytiri to hunt with Neteyam. Who are you to decline when it’s your chance to get a moment with him?
“Yeah, but we got so busy these days…”
“Mhm but wanna go there now?”
You look at the animals you bought have catch
“What about this?”
“I’ll just put that at the back of my ikran.”
You finally agreed and the both of you called your ikran. While waiting for your ikrans, you tried to speak to him
“Thank you by the way…”
He turn to look at you, he look so pretty while leaning the back of his body with the help of his hands that is place on both of his sides. Your eyes flutter and you hug your knees, resting your head on top of it, facing him
“Thanks for helping me overcome my fear of heights. I mean, what’s the use of this if I’m afraid right? So yeah, thanks..”
Neteyam smiled softly and move closer to you as he put his hand on your cheeks, thumb rubbing circle on your cheek. The cold air is slowly turning into warm, staring straight to his eyes you felt as if you were being pulled
For it to be only disappear when both of your ikrans arrived making you both jump away from each other
“L-Let’s go!”
You said and connected your queue to your ikran and hop on, you fly up ahead of him not wanting to let him see your expression right now. For sure, you look incredibly stupid right now
Seconds later Neteyam was right beside you with his ikran
“Follow me”
You nodded and the both of you fly throughout the sky but Neteyam’s heart is telling him to fly with you. You in front of him, his arms on your waist. Minutes later he found a spot and landed on it. You followed thinking this is it
“Here already?”
“No but can.. can you ride with me?” You look at him puzzled “But I am already?” Neteyam let out a breath, he made a space and patted it as he stare directly at you
“Here by my side, please?“
Your grip to your ikran hardened, not breaking a second of contact on his eyes you nodded, you disconnected your queue from your ikran and press your forehead against it’s own and told her to go back for now
Your ikran as if understanding you flew away and you walk towards Neteyam, his ikran bend down making it easy for you to ride, he still help you though by placing his hand on your hips
“Thank you”
You can only nod at your head when his breath fan against your left cheek. You heard him command his ikran to resume flying, feeling the cold air you can’t help but admire the stars that are twinkling, the moons that shine brightly. You felt him poke your side and you glance at him and he motion you to look down
When you look down you were taken back by how every plant is glowing, you can even see a pond that is glowing, fireflies dancing above the water, you were enjoying the view when Neteyam maneuvered his ikran to fly a little bit higher and you can’t help but be at awe on how everything ahead of you is just plants, trees that are glowing softly. Animals noices that you can’t identify what’s what.
“Everything is so beautiful! Neteyam! Thanks for…”
You turn slightly to look at him but you caught him looking at you, tears threatening to fell down but your hands quickly found it’s place to his face
“What’s wrong?“ you ask, worried. He only shook his head
“I lied Y/N. The place I wanted you to see, it’s non-existent. The only place I want to be is to be beside you..”
You look straight at his eyes and you felt his hand gently grab yours as he kiss your palms, then kiss your knuckles
“Neteyam.. you..”
He nestled his face on your hands and look at you
“All I ever wanted throughout these years is for you to be finally beside me and now that you’re here… it still feels that you are far away…”
“What are you saying?” He cup your cheeks and place a soft kiss on it
“I don’t care if you don’t remember me, we can make memories again. Just don’t leave me again, please? I don’t know if I can live knowing you will leave me again..”
You notice your years trailing down from your eyes to your cheeks, you touch it and felt your heart breaking seeing him cry, Neteyam always look tough. Him leading their clan to a successful hunt. He always look stern around his family, this side of his is surely a new to you
“Do you like me?” You ask, Neteyam let out a laugh and lean his forehead to yours
“Like? I see you, Y/N. Never have I stop loving you, it’s always you. Always”
He grab your hands and along with his he position to your stomach, hands intertwined. He claim your lips as you made no protest. You two shared a kiss that was supposed to be shared long time ago, he pulled away and kiss your eyelids, nose then put a quick kiss on your lips. You both smiled and your head remain rested on his shoulder as you both conitnue flying throughout the sky, while holding each other
“I see you, Y/N”
“I see you, Neteyam”
—
In case you guys are wondering, NO, this is not the ending😊
Y/N fell in love with him all over again! And Neteyam?! Hello! He have always love you, not wanting to choose anyone other than you! But wait! As they say, when everything is going fine there will be always storm charging towards you, right? So yeah, sit tight and enjoy the upcoming parts!
Also can I read some of your favorite part of this chapter? How you feel on this update? Please leave a comment!
taglist;
@n1ght5h4d3-24, @mashiromochi, @itscheybaby, @calums-betch, @devil-on-acid, @laylasbunbunny, @neteyamsmate4life, @szchaql, @eddiesluvt, @kachowness, @mirikusashes, @erenjaegerwifee
#atwow angst#atwow fluff#atwow imagines#atwow fandom#atwow neteyam#atwow x you#neteyam#jake sully#neytiri#lo’ak#neteyam x you#neteyam x y/n#neteyam x reader#neteyam sully#fluff#angst#atwow fanfiction#atwow loak#atwow spider
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Hello, sorry if I boring you..
I just would like to have a request with sanji, luffy and ace react with a s/o who doesn't fight as much as possible, because she wants to pretend to be a weak person (she doesn't it AT ALL)
one day they are about to take a violent blow and their "weak" s/o imposes herself and keeps the enemy VERY VERY far away with a simple slap
Sorry if it’s a suck request.. 🙈
a/n - ohhhhhh my goshhhh- this idea??? 💜👀nono it’s not a sucky request at all! Tysm for the request anon!
Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, overpowered reader (y/n is always so cool 😭)
You don’t fight as much as possible, not because you were weak. But because of the fact that fighting and battles weren’t your favorite thing. So why not avoid it in the best way possible? Pretending you were weak. You’d become quite the actor, easily persuading the entire crew of your supposed “weakness”. You knew that the love of your life, Sanji, would do absolutely anything to keep you safe. That’s what made you feel guilty, his loyalty and love for you. While you were pretending to be weak, the chivalrous chef always had to swoop in and save you like the prince he was. It was whenever he got injured for you when you could’ve easily defended yourself when you felt the guilt deep inside your heart.
Perhaps this facade should end, it was only costing your lover and friends to risk their lives for your safety. God, you felt horrible. You weren’t weak at all! The fact that your crewmates got hurt for you, because they thought you were weak made something burn in your heart. You could easily protect yourself and your friends, so why keep this play going? It was time to end it.
The strawhat crew was in yet another close battle, one that you didn’t think you’d make it out of unscathed. Your assumptions were correct, a marine was just about to land a violent blow to your head with their rifle. It was like everything slowed in your vision. Was your mind so much faster than the world? You could hear the faint cries from Sanji, begging you to get out of the way. That’s what made you snap out of it, flicking the back of your hand into the marines face instead. The soldier flew so far away you couldn’t even see where he landed. The impact of your blow was so powerful that a small gust of wind was felt around you.
No words could describe just how shocked Sanji was to see you completely destroy the soldier like that. One little flick of your hand was all it took to send the soldier flying.. His mouth was hung agape, his eyes as wide as you’d ever seen them before. He couldn’t move, so distracted from your hidden strength. Poor cook ended up being hit in the head by a metal javelin, being slammed into the ground harshly. You immediately went over to him, kicking the javelin out of the marine’s hand, grabbing it and slamming it into the soldier’s face. The blow launched the pitiful soldier far far away, maybe if you looked hard enough, there was a little sparkle in the sky from where he flew.
Sanji didn’t think it was possible to love you even more than he did. But, you proved him wrong. There isn’t a number to describe just how much the man loved and admired you. Everything about you was so perfect, even before he knew about your true strength. The way you smile, when you lend a hand with cooking meals, even the way you talked with him! Oh gosh- he could ramble on and on for decades about just how amazing you were. (Please go along with my thoughts 💀)
You ended up carrying Sanji bridal style, blocking every attack from all angles, the epic and cinematic slo-mo shot as you saved your prince <3 Sanji had that sparkle in his eyes, looking up at you with absolute amazement and love for you. To this day, he would never admit this… But, he would like to be carried by you once more 🙏
You never really got a chance to show off your true strength, not when Luffy was around at least.. He was already bouncing off, kicking ass before you could even lift a finger. It wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose- that was just your boyfriend being himself. Even when you tried to help out, Zoro and Sanji ended up taking over too!!
They all kept stealing all your thunder >:( even Usopp manages to pull through with his ginormous one-shot cannon more than you. You’d had enough! It was time for the crew to know that you weren’t completely useless in a fight.
Luffy was reckless, that’s just how he was, but he meant well! He got himself caught in a marine base, miraculously getting caught by every single guard stationed there. It was honestly amazing to you how he always, almost always got caught. You were hiding behind a crate of rifle ammo and other supplies, waiting for the right moment to strike and save your loveable idiot.
He looked towards you and smiled excitedly right before the guards cuffed him with sea stone. You motioned to him, frantically trying to tell him to not say anything, to BE QUIET.
“Y/N!!! Hey!! You came to save me?? Thanks!”
…
You sat there for a moment. Why was he always like this..? The guards started to aim their swords and weapons at Luffy, ready to strike in a moment. You rushed forward, and just before the soldiers struck your loved, your hand blocked their attacks. The impact of the blows to your hand were completely absorbed, you didn’t move a muscle, the swords unable to cut through your skin.
The marines audibly gasped, and so did Luffy. You slapped them all in the face, sending them flying into all of the crates in the storage room. Splinters, dust, gunpowder, extra swords, clothes, food, and other items flew around the room. You caught a stick of meat and went to go give it to Luffy.
His mouth was on the floor. Literally on the floor. His eyes bulging out of his head as he stood there in astonishment. You put the chunk of meat into his mouth and closed it for him, patting his head softly. He didn’t even start chewing until you started moving his jaw to chew for him.
“Luffy… You ok?”
“MHFM! HOUCH GOME YOUF HAND WAF BIKE SHEBSIBDFSJSHBDIENDJCH?!” (Y/n! How did you do that?! You slapped him and he went BOOOOOOM- THAT WAS SO COOL!)
The rubber boy was shouting with a huge chunk of meat in his mouth, so you didn’t really get anything he said.. You had to grab him and sling him over your shoulder as you both escaped narrowly. He was still yelling at you in gibberish, and you couldn’t really tell if he was amazed or extremely angry-?
a/n - Sanji needs to be carried bridal style pls
#one piece#one piece x reader#luffy one piece#luffy x reader#luffy x you#luffy x y/n#luffy op#monkey d. luffy#sanji x reader#sanji op#sanji x y/n#vinsmoke sanji#sanji x you#sanji one piece
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Hype Train!
F! Streamer Reader x M!Yandere Streamer OC
Part 3~
His Info: 📹✨
Part: 1 2 3 4
!!!MINORS DNI!!!
CW: Use of the name jasper🫡✨ (u no who u are soldier💀) !F reader, use of she/her when referring to reader, reader has a vagina, trauma related hallucinations, GORE, violence, murder, torture, kidnapping, blood, sadism, M! masturbation, pet names(good girl), not TOO smutty yet sorry i hope it’ll be worth it 🙈✨
You aren’t sure when you fell asleep… It’s nighttime, “Fuck!” You reach for your phone.
It reads 9:24pm.
You have to work in the morning, but you’ve slept all day, how are you going to get proper sleep now?
You look over at your microwave, the time is blinking 12:00.
“Hm… Power must’ve went out,” You speak out to yourself.
Hearing your own voice is always better than hearing none.
A loud *BANG!* on your door startles you, you lurch forward.
Is it them? “Oh god, no, No NO! I can’t go back!! I PAID YOU!! Please!!”
the banging continues, as you claw at your own head.
and then,
It stops.
Just as abruptly as it started.
You get up to take one of your emergency meds.
They’re so expensive…
You don’t take them as much as you should.
You sigh, and gulp it down.
You turn your computer on, and get ready to stream.
“AHH HAHA HAH,” Pleasured laughing all day long has rendered his vocal cords sore and hoarse.
Jasper gazes fondly over his work so far.
The man you’ve been meeting every month, sitting bound to a chair.
His screams have reduced into nothing but strained guttural noises.
He can’t handle much more.
Jasper did too much, too quickly.
He’s usually more methodical, but the way you make his heart burn, has him losing every strand of sanity in his body.
Squares of this brutes flesh have been removed, the facia torn to shreds.
His teeth have been ripped out.
Fingers snipped off joint by joint.
That wasn’t good enough, Jasper had seen the way he groped you.
The hands up to his wrists sawn off next.
He wrapped him up to stop the bleeding.
He shot him up with adrenaline.
But this—This pathetic thing, isn’t lasting nearly long enough.
Even for how long it’s been going on.
Jasper wanted to savor his pain longer.
So much longer.
He launches the knife like a dart, aimed straight at his head with a furious grunt. It flies through the air and enters dead on the bullseye.
“FUCK YOU! FUCK. YOU. FUCK YOU!FUCK YOU!FUCK YOU!” He pants.
The black handle sticks out of the man’s eye socket.
He lolls his drenched head back and forth, coughing up what’s left of his own blood.
How he isn’t dead is a wonder.
“Awww, doesn’t it suck SO much not being DEAD yet?”
He walks over to him, resting an arm on the wall behind the restrained man. He leans his face down to just above his level.
“Wish I could’ve taught ya a real lesson, you disgusting thing. Sadly I think your time is jus’ about-”
*PING* his blown out pupils slowly follow the air to his pocket where he slides out a phone.
You’re live-streaming!
His hand grasps the handle.
He gurgles out one last labored plea.
“I have to go now~” He shoves the blade back in one swift motion all the way through the man’s socket, and the tip breaks through the back of his skull hitting the grey cement wall behind him.
“and so~” He flips the blade, before another vicious jab into the same socket making the hole an “X”.
“do.” *Crack*! one more
“YOU.” Blood spurts onto him one last time, he doesn’t flinch.
Jasper’s face is now completely coated sticky, drying crimson.
“Mmm” he sighs contently. “I guess I’m done here.” A final pleasured chuckle leaves his chest.
He wipes his face with the back of his hand before whipping it toward the ground, flinging more spatters of blood around him.
He pulls up your stream up on one of the laptops, and puts a phone to his ear. The man’s blood is leaving little pools on everything Jasper touches.
He can’t care less.
He’s too engrossed, too mesmerized by your precious voice.
He quickly informs the cleaning crew on the phone of his location, and that he has spilled cake all over the floor… And walls…And ceiling… Everything really.
“Yes sir! we will send the heavy duty crew asap”
Without knowing it, you soothe him, his eyes flutter shut.
A hand slowly trails to groin as he deeply listens.
He types with the other; “Hey! how are you, Y/username?”
“Hai Jasper!!! I’m so happy to see you again!!”
“mmf” he grunts as his thumb presses down on his clothed lap. “Yess” he whines, “Say my name again”
“I’m good by the way! thanks for askin! How are you!”
He finds the button and unzips his pants with his eyes still closed picturing your actual face and replaying you saying his name again, and again, and again in his head.
He can’t even hear anything you’re saying, to anyone else.
“Good! Wanna hang later?” he types deftly, hoping you’ll call out his name again.
“Omg! Yes please, Jasper!” It’s so innocent, yet he’s still fading fast into a lusty haze.
“Haah! yeeeessss,” His palm wraps his length and squeezes. His thumb teases the tip, pressing down and then massages his glands. “Beg me! Yell my name!”
The blood is acting as lube as he continues to work himself, while one hand desperately clings to the table.
He’s losing his mind just imagining the possibilities; how wet he can get you, how well you’ll take his girth. You’ll be such a good girl, won’t you?
His imagination runs wild: “Harder, Jas-Jasper! M-more!” He can picture you begging, “P-please, please! Fill me, Jasper! Fill me!”. He wants you begging.
“YN!” A low grunt leaves his mouth as he climaxes, mixing white with the red splatters across the keys.
He’s not satisfied though.
You’re not in his lap.
The pain doesn’t subside, and the swell refuses to go down.
He covers his face with his hand.
“I can’t wait to have you…”
#my oc#oc x reader#oc x you#yandere#yandere x reader#my fic#yandere x you#dead dove do not eat#tw yandere#yandere oc#yandere streamer x you#yandere streamer x reader#yandere streamer#yandere smut#oc jasper
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Hii! I just wanted to let you know that I'm a big fan of your work!
I started of with discovering your "First it Hurts" fic on ao3, then being updated to your every post cus I look forward to every fic or hc's you make!
Also, I loved the valentines special post 💗💗 BUT IM SO CURIOUS ABOUT NAOYA'S LETTER AHH, anyways I just wanted to let yknow that I love your fics and the way you write Naoya! I hope you continue writing fics about him since there's a scarcity on Naoya fics HAHAHA, but I dont mean to pressure you! Please take your time, and I'm eagerly waiting for your new fics!
Hello!!
Awww thank you so so so much!! I'm so happy you're liking it so far!!!!! 🥺❤️ akajghajkghasgjas as well as my oneshot :>
Also, I'd like to apologize for the delay; I'm slowly working my way through requests, the main fic, and the weird schedule for my job 💀 I greatly appreciate your support and patience 🥺❤️ Also, I'll be writing Naoya fics for like, ever. I'M LOOKING FORWARD TO SEE HIM ANIMATED OMG ALL THE INSPIRATION.... gotta keep this small part of the fandom alive!!!!
Now... to the letter.... I feel like it would've gone something like this:
warnings: naoya is a prick, no surprise. but... he has feelings, just that he doesn't know what to do with them. this is the oneshot anon is referring to.
Happy reading!
Y/N.
I didn’t think letters were still written in these times, outside of elderly people and the socially inept, but I suppose that for certain occasions they are still necessary.
By the time you get this you’ll probably already have an idea of where I’m going with it, yet I’ll still write it down.
I cannot deny that you came onto my life in the most unexpected way, not necessarily the best either.
I didn’t like your siblings, and I still don’t. I think of them to be nothing but highly annoying, arrogant, especially your sister who seems to parade herself around Gojo and the privilege she had of knowing him.
Your brother is somewhat… calmer in that aspect, he tends to keep to himself, and I respect that. Everyone should be like that, you know?
But I’m not here to talk about them, of course, I’m here to talk about you.
When I heard that you were going to enroll, I wasn’t thrilled, I genuinely thought great, another nuisance was to grace the school grounds—I already had this preconceived idea of you and was more than ready on keeping it… until I finally I saw you.
I’m sure you’ve heard this a thousand times already, someone like you must’ve undoubtedly… but you are the prettiest girl I have ever seen in my life. Your beauty is so mesmerizing, I couldn’t believe it was real—anyone thinking otherwise is either blind, stupid, or lying. Or maybe all at the same time.
I didn’t accept those feelings at first, tried my hardest to ignore them and go back to disliking you, find a reason to hate you and move on.
But I couldn’t, and when I heard your laughter, saw your smile, or the cute way your eyes twinkled whenever you were excited about something, I knew it was impossible for me to disregard it any further.
My feelings for you had only grown more and more as time passed, and now, I find it physically impossible to contain them, but still hard to express them to you in person.
So, I resorted to this letter, which I hope will be able to accurately convey what I feel for you, if only for a fraction, until then.
What I mean to say is… If you let me, Y/N, I can show you how special you are to me.
I can give you all that you want in the world—it doesn’t matter what, whether it being money, or the stars themselves—I will not spare any expense to give you what you deserve, and I shall assess that every day of my life until my death, starting with the gifts I’ve sent you today, alongside those waiting in your dorm.
I shall call you mine. No other man will be able to lay a hand on you, and I won’t allow any other woman to do the same to me either. My eyes will solely keep to you, and you alone; I expect you to do the same.
And in turn… I don’t ask much, except that you see me the same cheerful, adorable way you see others when happy, the one that has me completely enthralled, unable to keep it off my mind for more than one second, and… accept me into your heart.
If you so decide it appropriate to get to know each other better, you know where to find me. I shall await your response.
Naoya.
As you can see, Naoya isn’t overtly romantic or good with words (I mean, the slander at the beginning lol) but he tries, as genuinely as possible—his honesty is a virtue to appreciate lol. Also, he was TREMBLING while writing this, if not crying hahaha he really almost died when he wrote you were the prettiest girl in the whole while world.
He’ll become more comfortable with it, of course, he’s a man that can’t hold himself when it comes to talking. But it’s nice to see him all shy for once 😊
Akgjakogja I’m so happy you all liked this little oneshot—I know it was quite the bomb to drop on valentine’s day, but I swear, it’s a happy ending story :>
If there’s more you want to know about that oneshot/au just let me know, I’ll be more than happy to indulge!!
Take care, and hope to see you soon!!!
#ask#naoya zenin#naoya zen'in#naoya x reader#naoya zenin x reader#naoya zenin x you#jjk naoya#naoya zen'in x reader#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk x you#prompt series: jujutsu kaisen
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i can still see it all (in my head)
lisa has always liked a challenge. this time, though, she just wants you to be easy.
pairing : lisa minci x reader (masculine pronouns. amab)
rating : explicit, not safe for work (sexual content)
type : one-shot
tags : royalty-sorta!au. age-gap age-gap age-gap (older man and younger woman), reader is a general and a divorcee AND a dad (he also has a big dick),description of the length of reader's hair, porn with feelings, semi-public sex, cowgirl position, mating press, breeding kink, lisa gets manhandled by reader, there is an emotional scene at the end
word count : 2208
author's note : title from 'daylight' by taylor swift. in my head, lisa just looks so good with an older guy,,, also this is a chance for you all to be the dilf you've always aspired to be. also note that i don't know at all about military hierarchies 💀 i really do be writing whatever
( masterlist │ ask/request │ ao3 )
Lisa doesn’t know what to think of the new scout assigned to the library.
After bringing home a glistening victory for the crown, there was a couple of months where he was not seen until he once again reemerged in a ball celebrating the Crown Prince’s 17th birthday. Lisa did not see him fresh off battle, but she heard stories. Of his shagged face, hair overgrown to his chest.
She did, however, see him on the ball. And he was full of glory: dukes and duchesses scramble to part the sea of royalty for a man to whom they owe their lavish life to. His hair was trimmed at the appropriate length—just above his ears—and his face clean shaven.
Lisa finds it odd, though, how after that day, he lounges around her library—a gift from his King, she heard, to be dismissed of all duties relating to waging wars and protecting the city. It would be inane for the King to award him with less than whatever he wanted after the almost-decade-long battle cost him his handsome face and his obnoxious wife. It’s good for the King that he didn’t want much. Just for a quiet life of defending the palace instead of the city.
Lisa personally thinks that he should have asked for more; tranquillity does not erase the profound scar down across his left eye, after all. Even if it added to his allure. Even if Lisa spends her day daydreaming about running her fingers along its length.
So, instead of being the ravenous, cruel war general that he is rumoured to be on the battlefield, he sits with his leg crossed on top of a knee and reads thick volumes of exhausting diction and verities between the shelves of her library,
The first few weeks, Lisa greets him with a warm smile as she would do to everyone. She does not indulge herself in calling him sugary-sweet pet names—he was far older, after all, and way above her ranks. Dear lord, what would he think of her?—and instead, calls him General, not even daring to mutter the sound of his surname following it.
He is helpful to her. With his swords clanking against the stony floor, he would walk after her and grab the mountaining pile of books from her arms. Wordless. He then would place them on the higher shelves, ones that she could not possibly reach without the help of some wooden steps. He looks like he has the filing of the books and reports memorised like the back of his own hand—Lisa thought that she knows this library most, but he looks like he melts right into the scenery, like he is a part of the breathing, living room.
Once, he came into the library just in time to catch her wobbling body from crashing against the cold ground. Her careless feet had misstepped, and Lisa is certain that if he wasn’t there to catch her falling body, she would have died. And maybe it was her racing heart, or maybe it was the way his wide palms grabbed her skin, fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh and almost circling her waist, but on that day, Lisa decided that she must have him.
She knows what to call him, now, when it’s just the two of them. A series of provoking “General” or “Baby”—even his given name, when she gets bold enough or if the night gets dark enough.
She would ride his cock, never really getting used to his size, as she pressed her palms against his stomach, mouth hanging open, drool spilling free, and her knees bruising from the friction against the stone underneath them. He’d call her all sorts of pretty names, cooing at how good his little librarian is milking his dick dry, thumb grazing over her perky nipples, jugs glistening with sweat.
Just as he would shoot his thick seeds up her womb, filling her hot cunt with strings of white juice, he would push himself to press their lips against each other, cursing at god at how perfect her pussy is for him.
She knows that he likes being on top—folding her in half with her scarred knees pressed against her tits. She has seen the way he licks his lower lips, watching the way sweat sticks her champagne hair to her face and chest, drilling into her tight hole with his thick length. He loves the way she rolls her eyes back whenever he hits her spot just right—loves feeling her warm walls wrapping around his dick, seeing her clenched cunt stuffed with his cream.
But he is too nice. He knows she chases that feeling of control whenever she pushes him back against the chair—or the floor—and rolls her hips. He lets her take control at times, just sitting there with his thumb rubbing against her sensitive bud, watching her body shudder at every wave of orgasm she gets just by him toying her clit. This isn’t what he is used to, she supposes, but Lisa can tell that he also enjoys the view of seeing her tits bouncing at every squeeze of his cock.
Lisa thinks that she would make a fine wife.
She isn’t rowdy like his once-wife. She is quiet, sweet, charming. Her opinions are never uttered with such strength like the Marchioness, and she imagines that he would prefer keeping her close and showing her off.
But she is just a scholar, nothing more. She cannot give him the title that he must want, or the child that he already has.
The boy is a few years younger than the Crown Prince, and Lisa can see him in his son’s eyes. They are civil with each other, just as a father and a child of royalty would be. There are habits and quirks that she observes in his son when she tutors him—little patterns that are never engraved to someone like her.
If the Marchioness had been patient and not divorced the General, he would not have been holding Lisa the way he does now. And no matter how many times Lisa has ended the night with his cum up in her cunt, there are just some skeletons that she cannot resolve.
Lisa often dreams about his tongue on her nipples. Her hard, hard nipples.
Just the feeling of his wet tongue rubbing, tugging, sucking on her teats. His low growl, his hungry looks. Just the thought of him catching her in his mouth is enough to make her cum most times. She starves for him, for his touch.
And she knows that he loves reaching over to knead on her tits, fascinated with her nipples as his cock is buried deep inside of her.
In his chamber, he would let her sit herself down his length, with her back pressed against his chest. He would rest his chin on her shoulder, and she would bury her nose amongst his greying hair, moaning at how he tugs at her nipples, rolling them between his calloused and thick fingers. His other hand would begin with caressing her other tit before making his way down to her belly, pressing down against her flesh. Then continuously trailing down, pressing his palm flat against her sopping pussy lips.
The friction of his palm against her clit would make her jolt. Lisa would claw at his big arms, silently begging for him to let her ride him, but he was too strong. She can’t fight his strength when he is holding her down.
“I’m getting older, Baby,��� he mutters in her ear—his voice almost enough to send Lisa yipping through another orgasm. He sighs, pressing his nose and lips against her neck. “I’m tired. Be a good girl for me and sit still.”
And Lisa whimpers. Because she wants to be a good girl for him. She wants to be the best.
Lisa doesn’t mind getting dicked down in her library. As long as it was his cock puncturing her little hole.
Though she complained that the library is the least comfortable place where they can fuck, it seems that he is interested in the notion of pounding mercilessly into her tiny cunt against her work desk, watching their cum mix and spill against the expensive mahogany.
“I’m gonna fuck a kid into you, Lisa,” he mutters, pressing his nails down her hips to the point where it hurts. Lisa whines, hands busy trying to grab the edge of her desk as her core pulsates even more with his threat. “Fill you up— shit,” he breathes as she clenches around his cock. He lifts her ass up, positioning her so that it’s easier to fuck into her hole. “Stuff you up with my hot cum. You’d like that won’t you?”
“Yes,” Lisa gasps in between her moans, her cries, her heaves. “Yesyesyes, please—”
Her cunt burns at his words, squeezing as he drags his length out, then piercing down her walls yet again. She can feel every girth, every veins of his cock. She can feel him opening her up, urging her to accommodate every single inch of him.
“Oh, Baby,” he grabs one of her arms, forcing her off her hands and against his chest. “You’re making me feel so good,” his voice trails the same time his hand goes to take hold of one of her tits.
Her throat dries. She lays her head on his shoulder as he kneads her ample jug, blabbering on and on about how she loves him and his big, big cock.
Lisa thinks that she would make a fine mother.
She is smart, and her mother used to say that being smart is the one quality that is most important in a woman when she bears a child.
When she gets dressed, Lisa would more often than not hum before her mirror, rubbing her belly as though one of these days, he would really impregnate her with his seeds. She dreams of swinging, little baby feet; she dreams of propping her child on her chest with their chin against her shoulder. She would teach them how to read and write and count, and how to chart the countless stars in the night sky.
But her reverie would dissolve like smoke from her hot morning coffee, and she is dragged back into the world where in the eyes of everyone else, they are nothing more than colleagues.
He isn’t mean. Lisa understands absolutely where he is coming from.
Even when he kisses her knuckles, lays with his head on her stomach, twirls her strands of hair around his fingers—she understands him. She absolutely does.
If she were in his position—in his mid 40s, tired from a long battle, is the father of a son he can barely see anymore—she would also feel his amount of shame in indulging in a younger woman. It’s not her—it is absolutely him. She senses that he wants to break free of his self-imposed chain and peck her cheeks in the royal garden instead of the strange, unseen nook of the castles, but an unseen rope tugs him back over and over again to his shame any moment he deems adequate to leave.
“Lisa,” he mutters one night when they are laying together, his head on her lap. She has a book on one hand as the other gently caresses his strands.
Lisa sets the book down, “Hmm?”
He has been staring at the ceiling, and Lisa waits until he feels as if he is ready to crank his neck. Their eyes meet—she marvels silently at the way moonlight reflects on his gaze. “I’m sorry.”
She titters, pretending to be dumb. “For what?”
He smiles at her laughter, his fingers escaping each other on his stomach before reaching out to find hers. He kisses the back of her hand. “I don’t know.”
Lisa shakes her head and feels the heat returning to her chest, throat, and ears. “You’re being silly again, General.”
“I am,” he sighs, shutting his eyes. “I’m getting old, aren’t I?”
“So am I.”
Lisa sits straight and looks down at him, fingers finding their way in between the spaces of his. She brings his hand closer to her lips to kiss. “You’re overthinking.”
“I am.” He pensively agrees, as though embarrassed.
“Everything is fine,” she tries soothing him with her head tilted. “Or am I not enough?” She gently teases.
“No,” he chuckles almost immediately. “You’re perfectly enough. You are more than enough. I am content with us, just like this.”
“Uh-huh,” Lisa nods. “Then why worry about something that is not even real?”
“I don’t know,” he turns to bury his face on her stomach, nuzzling his nose against her flesh. “Sorry.”
Lisa breathes in hard—a gust of wind from the open window suddenly reveals the perfect atmosphere for her to start crying. But she doesn’t. “It’s fine.”
He remains quiet with their hands tangled with each other. Lisa bites her lips, her other hand reaching to stroke his hair. She glances outside the window—the moon shines bright that night.
She will get through this. She breathes in deeply yet again, bending to press her lips to the side of his head. She has to.
#genshin impact#genshin#lisa#lisa minci#lisa x reader#lisa minci x reader#lisa smut#lisa minci smut#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#genshin x reader#lisa x you#genshin lisa smut#one-shot#lisa x reader smut#smut
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15 Lines of Dialogue
Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!
Tagged by @greypetrel 💛 thank you dear, scrolling through the pages was super sweet and it reminded me that doing something for myself without stressing too much on how it could be perceived was one of the best decisions I've ever made ;; <3
So, luckily for you I only have just a dozen of chapters translated so you're getting just the Haven + trip to Skyhold arcs :' there she's more jokes oriented wait until the trip to the Dales kicks in
🌸💀 Ankh before the "Lav" 💀🌸
"I should have listened to you. And this will be the first and last time you ever hear me say it!"
"Every culture strives to make [death] poetic in order to make sense of the pain of loss, but reality is much more selfless than any theory."
"This is the point at which I usually lay out my theory to Varric and he raises ten coppers that the situation is actually far worse than what it seems."
"I'm not "an elf". I'm the one who’s going to send you chopping wood with a butter knife, if you keep this attitude."
"Do you really want me to strip completely naked and dance around the fire, hooting in the moonlight under the influence of psychotropic mushrooms?" she paused. "With this cold?
"They give us a certificate along with the rabbit ears when we sprout from the ground."
"This isn't caution, it's lack of decency. If a man is hovering at the edge of a ravine, you carry him to safety, you don't check his ears first. And don't tell me it's a coping mechanism, or I'll tell Sera where you sleep!"
"And if I die, I'd like you to use my skull as a candle holder. Whatever Avaar may say, skulls make terrible mugs."
"I don't believe in redemption. It's like giving candy to a child after class. Mistakes are not stains, they are a reference point for those who make them to spur themselves to do better. They should be welcomed as much as a person's merits. They exist for those who suffer them and for those who make them, to help them give direction to their path"
"Don't transfer your inability to flirt to the Chantry, mister. It's too convenient."
"Not you too, please! You can't catch the plague if you sleep in the same room with an elf. It's scientifically proven. Unless the elf has the plague, but you can notice it on the fly." she pointed at her face with a circular gesture. "Bubbons, blisters, death."
"Oh, shut up! Thanks to my stubbornness, latrines have never been so clean!"
"I complained as well myself, but your saints have a no refunds policy."
"Humans are fickle, huh? First they hate me, then they praise me, then they forget me, and now it seems like I'm the heroine of all lost causes all over again. In all of this... where's my darn griffin?"
"Oh, I have no weapons; I have an arsenal. And if I really wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't be here now. I know where you sleep, I know your patterns, and it would take very little to convince most of the Inquisition elves that inside the council chambers there's an individual worth shaving at night."
-
I'm tagging: @herearedragons and @bruxbea
If you want to get tagged too just drop a ✨ in the replies u-u
#15 lines of dialogue#tag memes#the mediocre writing tag#ankh#being (not too) secretly liam neeson#only five of these are from a back and forth with cullen I'm very surprised#I expected more because he's the one she interacts the most with lmao#I'm glad I had only those chapters ready tbh or else my brain would've collapsed
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I read the lucilith thing you wrote. Holy shit. It took all day, and there's only two fucking chapters but it took all day.
I've never read anything that felt so "canon," that's the only way i can put it. It felt just like it was written into the script of a far away season in the actual show.
You're insane at writing bro. I don't rlly know much abt you but I was able to find this blog and I js wanted to let you know (hope you find this ig) how fucking good that story is.
Can't wait for chapter 3.
If I had time to draw rn I'd be drawing a huge bearhug to the anon symbol, maybe later today tho?👀
[obligatory link to fic if any followers of mine have missed it]
Anon this is THE BEST start to my day! WTF THANK YOU SO SO MUCH! It warms my heart that people like you are enjoying my writing so much!
Yeah I... have a bad habit of making projects way to big for my own good. I JUST HAVE SO MANY IDEAS DAMMIT in the past I've solved that issue by going, "this fic can only have x amount of chapters" and that's worked. This time I told myself only 5, and my brain just went "but no word limit right?" and now it's starting to look like each chapter is going to be 20-30k words 💀 and each one is taking me about a month to complete... I actually started writing chapter 1 end of january, start of february and I only posted it end of february. Chapter 2 similar thing... BUT so many people are really enjoying it! So it's worth it right?
hey
hey
you
come closer
you want a sneak peek of 3? This is about a page into the start
__________
High pitched ringing was all Lilith could perceive at first. Eventually, as time passed, she became aware of more things. The air smelled foul. She was laying atop something soft, but underneath the soft layer was the hardest rock she’d ever felt. As far as sounds, it seemed like there was a faint rumbling in the distance, but nothing extravagant.
Blearily, she managed to open her eyes.
Lilith was face to face with Lucifer who seemed to be unconscious, just as she had been moments ago. The soft layer she was on was his wing, with another one lying limp on top of her.
She sat up slowly, groaning. Her body ached and her joints felt sore. The wings that were on top of her, slid off.
There was something grey drifting down from the sky, and apparently, she and Lucifer had been laying there long enough that a thin layer of it had started to build up on them. Well, mostly Lucifer. Up until now, she had been safely shielded by his wings.
Lilith gave him a nudge, “Lu, wake up,” she told him before moving to stand herself.
The sky was a deep blood red. Any clouds that formed were either grey or black. The ground too, the harsh rocky terrain she and Lucifer were on was also a dark grey. It was now that she realized, she and Lucifer were dead center in a crater of sorts.
That’s when the previous events all rushed back to her. Heaven attacked them and cast them down into, what was it the elders called it? Hell? Lucifer desperately shielded and protected her from the vicious onslaught and then from the impact of the fall itself.
Now with the full context, Lilith rushed back to Lucifer who still remained on the ground, “Lu?!” Lilith pushed back the wings that were covering his body, and unveiled multiple wounds from heaven’s attack. The blood had long since dried, and Lilith realized she too was covered in Lucifer’s blood. His wings were also covered in his blood as heaven viciously skewered them to prevent him from flying back out. His once flowing robes were all but tatters barely clinging to his form.
Panic now fully setting in as she realized he looked even worse than when he had fallen from heaven and wasn’t even stirring, not even a little. She couldn’t even hear him breathe raspy breaths like he had last time.
“Lu! Say something!” Lilith immediately cradled him.
His head immediately rolled back limply as she pulled him to her. Lilith needed to readjust her grip on him in order for his head to lean against her torso gently.
He had protected her… From everything. But the final blow had been the fall. If what little Lilith had experienced from the fall due to his protection had been enough to temporarily knock her unconscious and make her sore then… What must it have felt like to take the full brunt of it??
Tears began to build up in her eyes as she recalled him assuring her that she’d be okay. He had been unable to stop the crash, so he did everything he could to make sure she was going to be safe. Suddenly, it made sense why he had repositioned himself underneath her, to cushion her fall with his own body.
“Lu?!” she called again, “Lucifer!”
He remained still and unresponsive.
Lilith’s breath hitched in her throat. He couldn’t be- he wouldn’t- this couldn’t have… killed him???
Lilith pulled him tighter to her, choking back tears and shook with rage against heaven. Why push her and him into that crevice?? All this because he wanted to help her and Eve but that was against the rules apparently?? Weren’t they supposed to be good?! Weren’t they supposed to be kind?! And what could she have done while the elders attacked? She had been powerless to help! Worse… They used her to lure him into the hole. As Lilith held him and choked back sobs, it occurred to her that he still felt warm.
The faintest, slightest bit of hope fluttered in her, and she pulled away to get a better look at Lucifer. He still was completely still, and unresponsive but… maybe…
Lilith leaned her ear against his chest, hoping for what seemed to be the impossible.
Faintly.
Very
very
faintly
She could hear it. A heartbeat. Even fainter, she could hear a weak rattling breath from deep in his chest.
He was alive…
He was still alive!
Lilith pulled him into a hug, cupping the back of his head and holding him tightly. Her tears now weren’t from grief but relief. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered to him, “It’s going to be okay…”
__________
anyways, this was an absolutely LOVELY start to my day ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ would love to talk to people about it if they want
thank you so much for coming to find me and leaving me this lovely comment!
#anon ask#hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar#lucifer#lucilith#fan fic#COMPLIMENTS#ASHHHHHASFLKADSFKLMLK#THIS MADE ME SO HAPPY#At long last#my creative writing degree is fulfilling its true purpose#making people cry on the internet#jk#gonna be in such a good mood today#best thing to wake up to I swear
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Episode 6 thoughts babey,,,,
Here are my thoughts on: episodes 1-3; episode 4 and episode 5!
Things I like:
Okay I see we’re starting off with emotional devastation write off the bat with a Zuko flashback. Dallas does a good job at portraying now-Zuko and before-Zuko. HES JUST TRYING HIS BEST HE JUST WANTS TO MAKE HIS FATHER PROUD OF HIM!! HE WANTS TO HELP OTHERS AND HES PUNISHED FOR IT!! 😭😭😭
Finally!!!! we are getting more Zuko and Zhao conflict. We needed to see more of Zhao as a villain
June flirting with Iroh is so funny and far better than in the og
anyone: this place is impenetrable. zuko: say no more 😉
oh my god they did the zuko sequence of him taking out those guards to get to Aang so well!
Love the whole zuko rescuing Aang from Zhao it was perfect ✨
Zuko meticulously finding out all the information he can about the past Avatars to the point where Aang says no one else knows this stuff is so important to me
Also I like how Aang and Zuko got a longer conversation than in canon. they had a nice moment there 😌 that will get Zuko Contemplating Treason for sure. Well actually - more treason than what he’s already done (thinking about you: siege of the north)
the 41st division being Zuko’s crew is an interesting choice!!! I’m actually sobbing about it!! To me it’s both a bad and good choice. I’ve explained my thoughts below and in the next section
Despite what I say below, Zuko’s crew bowing to him after they find out Zuko’s actions saved their life is such a good scene. Zuko seeing the product of having compassion and empathy for others as something positive, rather than something he’s ultimately punished for.
things I don’t like:
Zhao’s speech kinda sucked tbh. in the og it was much more grand and terrifying. He's on ground level with the soldiers instead of on that grand balcony. In the original he goats how fire is the superior element, how they're going to raze the Earth Kingdom to the ground. But in this one, it's just not the same level of brainwash-y propaganda-ryness that would have made SO much more chilling
idk but i preferred when Koh was a bit more mysterious and we didn’t really know much about him except that he stole the face of Avatar Kuruk’s lover and like some more vague info that leaves you intrigued about the mystery. like who the fuck is the mother of faces (i know she’s from the comics but still). And why did Roku steal it from him at all? idk im confused
Idk why they made Zuko stand and fight Ozai????? Ozai burning his own child who refused to fight him was a part of the horror of it all. Zuko refused to fight his father and begged for his forgiveness but Ozai still burned him anyway. I guess it still gets the cruelty across and that Zuko’s own compassion is used against him and Ozai is an irredeemable monster, but i still think it’s Not A Good Change.
Like I said above, Zuko’s crew being the 41st is not a bad thing! But I do just want to say that in the original, the attack goes ahead, and presumably, those soldiers die. It’s horrible. Zuko’s sacrifice is in vein and it was always going to be in vain because the Fire Nation as its stands would not allow it. Ozai would not allow it. I think that, like I said, it’s not necessarily a bad choice, but I think it does take away some of the horror of Zuko’s story (same as it does with making Zuko fight back in my opinion). HOWEVER, I do think it’s not all bad. I loved the scene where the crew bows to him - like I said above 🥹
Aang just giving Koh the statue and then all the people are just freed and he doesn’t even say anything wtf 💀
also i was so excited for roku’s appearance but i just thought it was disappointing. stop info dumping!!!! leave something up for interpretation I am BEGGING. “And she is Koh’s mother. Koh longs for the same thing we all do. Family.” maybe i’m being a bitch about this but it just annoys me!!!!!!! stop spelling things out! Koh is so much better when he’s mysterious and unknowable!! why is Roku's whole presence to be here and info-dump about Koh instead of all the meaningful and wise interactions he has with Aang in the original. simply ✨no✨
As you’ve seen from my previous entries, I try to have more positives than negatives but there were some things in this episode that irritated me and that i couldn’t ignore lol hopefully it gets better.... 😅
There were still parts i loved! Aang and Zuko's interactions were great and teh whole sequence of them escaping was wonderful. I likes Zuko interacting with the crew and Iroh trying to care for Zuko but not really knowing how to reach out to him.
On to the next one!
#zuko#katara#sokka#aang#iroh#ozai#roku#avatar the last airbender#koh the face stealer#jack talks#live action series#natla#netflix atla
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General Simon brainrot sketch page :3, as per usual, explanations under a cut. Apologies if my posts tend to be kinda huge and difficult to scroll past, I try to do the cuts to make sure they do the least inconvenience to anyone! (>-< ;)
Just the whole page in full ft. My thumb lol
Expression practice! Simon is feeling the weight of his situation rn alas :(. I’ve always imagined him being panicked the whole game; the overarching entire game timer really gives a pretty good feeling of dread imo. The two doodles at the bottom were attempts at multiple ideas I’ve seen floating around about the curse, but they’re kinda bad in execution looking at them no tbh. But the first one is based on the idea that the curse gives some vampire traits like sharp teeth and would probably lead to proper vampirism if he were to die from it. The second was general attempt at like skull practice and comparing facial features to skull structure, but oh my god the page kept smudging and I tried making it look ok with some random blood on there but it just made it look even sillier 💀.
These next two are based on two random like liminal space images I ran into on Pinterest and I drew them mostly because I suck at backgrounds and idk Simon’s Quest itself is like Castlevania: Liminal Space Edition a lot of the time, so it fits X,,,,D. The first one I really liked the composition of the path on the far side contrasted to the trees. Imagine the water is the purple cursed swamp :3. Hopefully Simon has laurels just standin around in there.
This second liminal space for Simon to be in was this neat nighttime photo of a graveyard! Trees are HARD TO DRAW, especially just in pencil and a solid black background. There’s blood on the ground and stuff cause he was just fighting some monsters, probably those two headed lizard guys. It’s the awkward stillness after clearing out an area of enemies.
The pose for this one is based on the LOL~lots of laugh Miku figure lmao 💀💀💀
Simon is very fun to put in exaggerated poses! Especially cause you have to exaggerate them more to get the same ratio of pose to negative space because muscles and armor. I had no idea how to make metal belt armor thingies sit in a like legs up floating sort of pose like this so they kinda bend a little weird but eh he looks cute otherwise. The other doodles present are one that says “brainrot” which is kinda making fun of my own dedication to an NES character 💀 and also cause haha rot like the curse. Also, teeny tiny Simon with a heart!!! :3
Yippie! Simon posing again! I think the first pose was inspired by this like random old anime style angel figure??? Idk I think she was just an original character figure and the pose was pretty different, I just used the reference mostly for the arm position. Anyway, he’s vibin, just sitting curled up and momentarily comfy. Alas, the horrors persist in the second doodle that was an attempt at showing how the curse kinda deteriorates him but he just kinda ended up having a scarily snatched waist and it looks more stylized than like sick. Also the armor kinda bends around him in a way that makes it look like it shrunk with him which is so dumb lmaooooo (XwX). I’ll have to revisit the concept eventually idk, just look at his face for this one XD. Hahaha tiny doodle based on Larval Rin on the left there, nothing to see here—
The main doodle is just Simon looking into the distance bewildered and holding the whip, standard stuff. There’s also a side profile doodle and an attempt at drawing crying again cause I was getting kinda rusty at both of those things.
Simon Belmont but if he was 2000s anime lol. A fun little style experiment, I might keep this as like another secondary art style. There’s also some doodles of a hanged man skeleton, the eyes of Vlad, a skeleton hand, and a couple little chibi Simon’s of various expressions.
More 2000s anime Simon, but in a more silly way like the art style change for joke sections. One is him just goofily holding up Dracula’s head, but it’s contrasted immediately with a more gritty usual art style doodle of him with harsh shading lol. Get you a man who can do both I guess 💀
I gotta practice more on backgrounds and composition and stuff, probably also get some curse effects consistent augh. Lately I’ve been on and off working on random things or just staring into space tired, getting back to using social media is hard and an exhausting uphill battle unfortunately (_ _ ;). Sometimes I feel like I should probably split these up into multiple posts to make things more visible and to put more focus on specific drawings, but idk I don’t really want to, it just feels weird to me breaking up a doodle page like that, if that makes sense??? Eh idk.
#castlevania#castlevania games#akumajou dracula#castlevania ii: simon's quest#castlevania simon’s quest#simon’s quest#simon belmont#art post#my art#fanart#sometimes I forget that the turtleneck addition to his undershirt was like something I added somewhere along the line 💀#seeing the actual box art and staring at his visible neck like where your clothes at and then I remember oh wait#I did that I was the one that who made him cover up 😔#ok also the hair lmaoooooooo hahahashshs prince of eternia lookin ass#Simon really out here with that fuckass bob Konami what barber did you send him to#I forget that like there’s not the sections and piecing I usually draw and that he really just has his bangs straight cut in that#I guess the way I draw his hair is like a middle ground between his manual doodles and the cover art?#yeah that makes sense I’m using that explanation of it now XD#anyway love him I’ve got another page of him I’ll try to post soon hopefully#past that is some really quick OC concept sketches and like idk dissociating#aaa I gotta talk to people but I keep losing all track of time and then can’t because of guilt augh it’s a miracle I’m posting this rn tbh#daydreaming is a horrible coping mechanism don’t do it guys I’ve been stuck with it since fourth grade 💀💀💀💀💀💀#it’s addictive it starts out like ‘time to imagine a character to this song :3’ then it’s been two months#vent in the tags#but mannnnnnn 😔😔😔#anyway here’s a whole sketchbook page of my comfort character who hasn’t seen a day of comfort in his life uh—#idk if posting at like 10 PM at night is a good idea but eh whatever
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Azalin Reviews: Darklord Jacqueline Renier
Domain: Richemulot
Domain Formation: 694 BC
Power Level: 💀💀💀⚫⚫
Sources: Ravenloft (3e), Secrets of the Dread Realms (3e), Domains and Denizens (2e), Realm of Terror (2e), Domains of Dread (2e), Gazetteer III (3e).
Most Darklords are pulled into the Mists and “gifted” a land to rule (that is also designed to torment them) after committing an act of so-called evil. Others gain such titles through the act of killing another Darklord. Why one would want eternal torment, I cannot say. Self hate? Inability to recognize where they truly are? Oh and if you are thinking of doing the same, this ploy doesn't always work. Most Darklords simply come back after they are “destroyed” as even our tormentors will not let death free us from them.
Before Jacqueline Renier became the Darklord of Richemulot, her grandfather Claude Renier was Darklord. The Renier family was chased into the Mists by a group of monster hunters and their hounds when Jacqueline was a child. Most Darklords rarely remember much, if anything, of the land they came from, our tormentors erase such things from their minds. One must not believe a lying rat when they state they remember something when all evidence points to the contrary.
The Reniers fled into the sewers and given the choice between death and a vault filled with a mysterious Mist, they chose the Mist and Falkovnia. Death may have been the kinder option than dealing with Drakov...The Reniers lived in the sewers of Silbervas in Falkovnia for a number of years before Vlad grew tired of their antics and ran them out of his Domain and into the Mists once more. This indicates that Vlad was successful in defeating the Reniers. Now that is a family history I’m sure Lady Jacqueline doesn't wish you to know of.
The Mists created Richemulot, which is mostly made of river valleys and untamed forests with the majority of its populace living in the three large cities. There is no known history of what happened in Richemulot prior to the Reniers settling there. The cities themselves were said to be empty when they arrived and like true scavengers, instead of questioning this oddity, the people merely accepted it and took up whatever residence they wished. To this day, only about a third of the buildings in each city are occupied by humanity, the rest lie abandoned and given over to decay and the infestation of rats.
Claude ruled through fear and manipulation, bidding his rivals and relatives (often these were the same) against one another. Jacqueline and her twin sister, Louise, were his protegees and he was always encouraging competition between the two for his affection and praise. That is until Jacqueline had enough of it and had a servant send him a drink laced with lye. Each wererat in Richemulot has their own unique 'allergin' and lye was Claude's. Not that I would advise anyone to consume lye in the first place...
Jacqueline ensured she was there as her grandfather drank the poison so she could gloat as he died. But the poison wasn’t enough for her and she also pushed him through a window where he fell through the roof of the family kennel and was half-consumed by hounds before his body was retrieved. Considering the poison killed him before he hit the ground, this was quite unnecessary and makes it far more obvious to even the casual observer who was responsible for Claude’s death.
Jacqueline is just as manipulative and cunning as her grandfather was, ruling the land through secrets and bringing down her opposition through rumors and misinformation. It is said the nobility trade more in secrets than coin in Richemulot and that a commoner may gain status by simply hearing the right rumor and knowing how to weld it.
Instead of pitting her family against one another, Jacqueline encourages them to work together, though she herself kills anyone that appears to be working against her. Only her twin sister is the exception to this. Curious. Does Jacqueline have some form of misguided affection for her sister? Is this why she has all of Louise’s lovers and friends killed? Regardless of the reasoning, it is abundantly clear that Jacqueline does not take competition for her affections well.
She is patriotic and wishes to bring prosperity to her Domain. Of course, the prosperity she strives for would result in the end of humanity, but she does try. Though there’s no formal militia in Richemulot, she expects all of her people to take up arms to defend the realm. So, her defense is the equivalent of untrained peasants with pitchforks. Drakov’s ever-failing attempts at conquering her Domain must be particularly crushing for the little mercenary. Still, he seems to have created enough stir in Richemulot to encourage Jacqueline to sign the Treaty of Four Towers with Borca, Dementlieu, and Mordent in defence against the war-hungry, impaling-loving idiot.
Jacqueline’s curse is to only appear in her rat form to those she loves. A fact she discovered when she fell in love with the nobleman Henri DuBois. She attempted to inflict him with her lycanthropy but he managed to not only escape that fate, but Richemulot as well. Jacqueline, a word to the wise, if one cannot accept you in your rat form, are they really worth all this pinning and crippling monophobia?
Jacqueline is a formidable combatant, but only when she is surrounded by her allies. She can speak with rats, take mist form like a vampire, and climb along almost any surface. However, when she is alone, her monophobia cripples her to a point where she can easily be defeated.
Considering the majority of her people do not know of her wererat affliction, her mastery of manipulation and control, and easy defeat of Claude; Jacqueline is not a Darklord to be underestimated. Though, if one learns her fears she can be easily taken out by a well-placed assassin. I will grant her three skulls.
----------------------------
Domain: Richemulot
Domain Formation: Unspecified (694 BC older editions)
Power Level: 💀💀⚫⚫⚫
Sources: Van Richten’s Guide to Ravenloft (5e)
The “good” Doctor’s new guide indicates that Jacqueline is not a natural born wererat, but was inflicted with the curse instead. Does this mean one could simply cast ‘Remove Curse’ upon her person to effectively neutralize her? Or any of her family members seeing as she changed all of them herself? Our Tormentors rarely make things that easy, but a theory I encourage any with such abilities to try.
Born into the Renier noble family, Jacqueline analyzed the changes in her city as the commoners became more wealthy. To Jacqueline this was viewed as a threat to her family’s position. Would a wealthy class of commoners abide by the rules of nobility if they have no need of them? And though Jacqueline shared her concerns with her family, the other Reniers ignored them, content with these inevitable changes.
Without her family’s assistance, Jacqueline was left to her own machinations. This eventually led her to discover a secret society of esteemed families that called themselves the Trueblood Council…which ended up being made of a bunch of filthy commoner wererats.
She was disgusted to find this filth in place of what she imagined as elite masterminds. Given the amount of gold she spent on gaining membership, perhaps she should have done a bit more research on them? Was it really THAT surprising they ended up being wererats considering their secret meeting location was the sewers? Regardless as she cursed and spit upon them, they made her into a wererat.
Jacqueline easily adapted to her life as a wererat and swiftly infected all of the Reniers. Except for her twin sister, Louise, who resisted. For her insolence, Louise was disfigured and cast out. In order to gain control of the city, Jacqueline unified the wererats and together they created the Gnawing Plague. However, instead of becoming the savior to the people when they begged for her assistance, she let them die, finding her hatred of the commoners replaced with a hatred for all non-wererats. Who exactly are you ruling over if everyone is dead? Well, no one is the answer and the Mists took her after the last person in Richemulot died.
Now Jacqueline rules half-empty cities in the land of Richemulot, but can only maintain her rule by controlled releases of the Gnawing Plague in order to suppress those that would rise up against her. Given the apparently disposable armies of rats, wererats, and animated armor stuffed with rats she has control over, this seems an unnecessary tactic. Not to mention the populace cannot be all that intelligent given their lack of awareness of Reniers affliction. Jacqueline wears a shawl of rats, rat shoes, and a rat bracelet. Her love of rats could not be more apparent and the rats are known to be the cause of the plague.
No wonder she has no love of ruling over her idiotic populace. I doubt they pose any real challenge for her. Her torments are rather weak compared to other Darklords. She dislikes ruling, misses decadence yet causes such things to be nonexistent with her plagues and has to keep on creating plagues? I would take those anyday over what I have to endure.
Jacqueline can control and communicate any rat in her Domain and mostly uses them as spies. Otherwise, she is an inflicted wererat who has a love for creating plagues. Considering her control would easily break if the labs that created said plagues were destroyed, I consider this version of Jackie to be less powerful than in previous versions. 2.5 Skulls.
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fresh cut tree- bruce
ink and slightly like cigarettes- erik
citrus specifically oranges- marcus
thrift store/ antique shop-byte
cranberries- quinn
warmth(hope this makes sense 😭)-cam
cherries-jordi
gentle smell of perfume (sorta old lady perfume)- nyssa
dandelions- june
Brucie: true, both from working outside with wood and the soap he uses (Irish spring, which has a woody base, and clean citrus top notes). He doesn’t go out of his way to buy and use extra colognes though, so the scents aren’t super powerful. He likes Irish spring because of its fresh and clean scent, as he actually has a rather sensitive nose and spicier scents can make him sneeze. He has his own natural musk, one that often mixes with the scents of his own sweat, woodworking, and occasionally blood from hunting.
Erik: I can definitely see him smelling like ink on the reg, and they do like tobacco notes in his cologne! If he ever starts to smell strongly of cigarettes though, that means he’s really stressed out for one reason or another. Smoky, tobacco, liquor, leather, and spices all feature in Erik’s preferred cold-weather colognes. He actually does tend more towards ‘clean’ or ‘cool’ scents in the warmer parts of the year. The scents usually still utilize the same base notes of tonka or woody base notes he prefers in general, but with less heavy and cloying overtones for something a little minty and soapy.
Marcus: also correct! Marcus tends towards colognes with a clean finish of citrus and woodsy base notes, making for very fresh scents that are still grounded by the wood base. Orange, bitter orange, bergamot, almond, and cedar feature in his favored scents. He wears cologne daily, and likes the thought of you being wearing his clothes and still being able to smell the cologne on them~! His taste is most certainly expensive, and he loves a very mature and refined look as far as packaging goes. He’ll only have one or two colognes at a time, and likes to use them before buying more.
Byte: the only off prediction, I’m afraid to report that Byte likes tooth-rottingly sweet gourmand scents and takes care not to let themself become dusty, and they also don’t utilize heavy woody notes that might also be evocative of antiques. They adore pastry and dessert scents, and anything with blueberries is sure to pique their interest. They’ll buy anything that fits that profile, regardless of if it’s expensive or cheap, though they do have a huge fondness for cutesy packaging! Their collection of scents is large. Other than that, they only have a slight “artificial” scent from their metal components and synthetic flesh, something almost a little bit coppery.
Quinn: I can really see her with warm scents, even as far as becoming spicy and smoky in the realm of warmth. Coffee, whiskey, amber, vanilla, caramel, sour almond, burnt wood, tonka bean, light musks. But yes, also red berries like cranberries and raspberries! The added “juiciness” appeals to her greatly. On the other hand, with the work that she does, she does end a lot of days smelling like sweat, mud, horses, hay and grass, etc. Whenever Quinn finds a scent she likes, she’ll buy it in whatever forms it’s available so the whole house might smell like her too if there’s also candles or wax warmers in the scent.
Cam: tends to gravitate towards fresh and clean types of scents— citrus, tea, mint, eucalyptus; they also like soft jasmine notes, which are generally considered cool rather than warm scents. But, from their work and interests, they often end the day smelling of various essential oils and incense anyway. So there will be a warmth in their smell, none of which is from the soap they use in the morning, some of which comes from their natural body chemistry, but most of which the lingering spicy, smoky scent of their preferred incense.
Jordi: also correct— they’ve definitely got a thing for sugary sweet top notes in their perfumes (my first thought was those candy legos 💀), like a cherry candy or pie type of scent! Candied cherry, cherry maraschino, sometimes regular cherry. Lavender, cocoa notes, pastry/sweet/cream notes as well with just a little bit of musk to round out the scent and keep it from being too “light” and “ungrounded.” Also, from spending most of his money on you, and a lack of genuine interest in scents, he usually just opts for whatever option at the grocery store smells best to xem at the time (old spice, axe, secret), mixing and matching men’s and women’s scents until xe finds a combo he likes.
Nyssa: ABSOLUTELY CORRECT LMAO 💀. They definitely wear those really powdery smelling florals. Their taste in perfumes often includes heliotrope, rose, lilac, gardenia, vanilla, tonka bean, sandalwood, and patchouli. All of the base notes are rather dialed back in the compositions they prefer. These notes can come across as old-lady-ish or as quite girly and innocent, but either way they have a feminine quality that Nyssa likes. As a vampire, and a rather sloppy one, they also have a consistent tang of blood about them that you may or may not find enjoyable to smell.
June: The dandelion is a fantastic idea for June! It goes perfectly with her preferences. I can see June going for very light scents, that’ll go easy on the base notes of tonka bean, or maybe mosses. She gravitates towards juicy, fresh fruit scents, and whimsical flower scents. Some of her favorite notes include peach, daisy, plum, strawberry, nectarine and nectarine blossoms, orange and orange blossoms, magnolia, freesia, and sometimes tea as well. She loves anything that reminds her of a warm spring or summer day! She could also go for a sweet gourmand scent as well, something cake- or boba tea-like. She really likes going shopping for new scents with her Darling and making haul videos about what all they found :]
#mail 📬#oc Bruce#oc Brucie#brucie babyyy#oc Erik#oc Marcus#oc Byte#oc Quinn#oc Cam#oc Jordi#oc Nyssa#oc June#my thoughts#yandere#yandere oc#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere x darling#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere cw
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for the dark oc asks 💀
1, 4, 7, and 13 for ermmm Thomas (⁉️ IF YOU WANT), Evelyn, Sam, and Lulu :3
SORRY THIS IS SO LATE GAAH!!!
also just and FYI i do like Thomas-LMAOAOAOA it’s fine to ask about him i just haven’t told you his updated lore and it’s. kinda fucking HORRENDOUS so you might see some of that here. :3
TW: mentions of violence, yandere themes, and sa.
1. Excluding murder, what is the worst thing your OC has ever done?
Thomas: he’s on the naughty list man. Blackmail, bribing judges/police officials, distributing illegal drugs/weapons, kidnapping, and a sprinkle of human trafficking, yeah. :3
Evelyn: SHE’S ONLY A MURDERER FOR A SIDE HUSSEL! (N/A)!! FREE HER!!!!! no but seriously the worst thing she’s done is brutally dissect like twenty people. she’s innocent 💔
Sam: aside from the murdering, he just stalks and kidnaps for the most part, so probably that. oh but he also drugs his victims so ig that’s sorta illegal too haha :3 (guess where he got the drugs from.)
Lucian: kidnapping probably….i feel like cannibalism ties in with murder so!!
4. What appears in your OC’s darkest nightmares?
Thomas: this man doesn’t HAVE nightmares. he goes to bed after dissecting someone like: 😴!! he could care less.
Evelyn: having violet give up on her. i mean, she wants to cure her condition more than anything, and having violet there to guide her has brought her a long way. without her, man…she might as well return to how it was. and that alone scares her more than anything.
Sam: his mother’s death is always his darkest nightmare. he knows its coming soon and one of these days he’s just gonna wake up and she’ll be gone.
Lucian: his (s/o) or friends sexually assaulting him. he ofc has nightmares about his stepfather’s abuse more often, but the darkest nightmares always originate from the thought that they would betray him like that too.
7. How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?
Thomas: anything. if thomas hall wants something, he’s gonna get it. there’s no doubt in my mind that he would commit mass genocide just for a fucking soda. the thing about thomas is that he doesn’t take no for an answer - take that as you will.
Evelyn: honestly, if she can’t have it, she’ll be fine with it. unless it’s a very dire need, she’ll drop it sooner or later. but if it’s something that pertains her well-being or condition…well…a few heads might roll.
Sam: very persistent. not for physical things, but emotional. he could care less if he didn’t get some shoes he wanted. now to have riley’s eyes on him? anything in the world will do for a sacrifice. <3
Lucian: oh he’s persistent alright. if he doesn’t get something minuscule he wants, he’ll be okay with that. but if it’s something dire, something he truly needs, his sweetheart mentality suddenly becomes a bit tainted. depending on what it is, some people may or may not make it out alive.
13. Who does your OC hate the most?
Thomas: his mother. there’s no other competition.
Evelyn: thomas lmao. not only does she hate him as a person, but she hates his fake persona that he puts up so people don’t know what kind of monster he really is.
Sam: lindsey hall and her little bitches. yeah. even if they’re six feet under the ground, sam will always be their #1 hater til the day he dies.
Lucian: this one was actually hard…but i would probably say his mother. he’s been manipulated by his stepfather so much that he can’t help but “love” him, even if he knows how wrong it was. his mother, however, LEFT HIM WITH THAT MAN knowing EXACTLY what he was capable of. so he hates her more than he will ever hate him.
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