#But whenever they get in fights he just gets this little urge to like. Kill him

[hogletthe2nd]

Cbeeduo in au kinda funny like how r u guys stable rn. Ur guys species literally hunt eachother out in the wild. How has Tubbo not killed u yet Ranboo.

[thanosscross]

There all along - Choi Su-Bong/thanos x reader part 1/?

Summary: Losing someone who meant alot to you was hard, having to live with it for three years you finally went back to the games to try and get revenge, but a new guard refuses to leave you alone, resulting in you being sent home for the first time in game history.

Warnings: death, you purposely getting people killed, heavy heavy drug use

During the games it was safe to say that you and Thanos got very very close, much to Nam-gyu's disliking. Thanos liked you though, you stubborn, rude, and rough, but whenever you grabbed his hand shaking like a leaf scared, you were so gentle, like you didn't even know how to hurt somebody if you tried. He got the sudden urge to protect you the moment you held onto his jacket for the first time in red light greenlight, it wasn't like you meant to, you went to hide behind him and before you knew it your hands were clenching his jacket.

You didn't mind it though, Thanos was an asshole, but he was always protective over you, only ever spitting off embarrassing raps that he'd come up with on the spot about your looks. As you walked back in from mingle you held onto Su-bong's arm, he just held your hand that held onto him walking towards their little area they claimed, cheering and chanting something about one more game. As Thanos sat down he pulled you down with him, helping you down a step lower to sit in between his legs, using his thighs and hips as a back rest "So, We got one more game, then we're gonna go right?" Nam-Gyu asked, shooting you a harsh glare "I dunno Nam-su, I think we could do two more?" You snapped in a smartass tone purposely getting his name wrong as you looked at your boyfriend smiling "We can play as many as you like, as long as you like, baby" He smirked holding your chin in between his fingers, you melted in his touch, his blue eyes staring into yours like he could see every thought in your brain "It's Nam-gyu, bitch" he snapped, you just rolled your eyes, grunting as Thanos suddenly raised his arms in the air "Stop it!, don't call her that, y/n leave him alone" He stated, shooting you a stern look.

Whenever they all left for the bathroom you laid down, thinking nothing of it, until the piggy bank lowered and started to fill, the loud speaker listing off players that were eliminated. What the fuck happened in there? You started to think before your heart dropped "Player 230 eliminated" Echoed in your brain as the doors opened and everybody started to walk in, your eyes immediately fell on Nam-gyu holding Thanos's pill necklace in his hands that were covered in blood. You jumped up rushing down, Nam-gyu immediately taking notice to the fiery glare in your eyes "What did you do!?" You screamed, swinging your fist, it connecting right where his jaw curved, sending him to the ground "T-The X's just started attacking us!" He shouted being looking up pointing at the guy who Thanos first got into a fight with whenever you first arrived "H-he's the one who did it!" He shouted, not wanting to die at the hands of a grieving psycho, you stood up, freezing as a guard shoved a gun into your back, stopping you from attacking the player "We ask that you all compose yourselves, as the voting process will start tomorrow first thing, please use this time to think over your futures" The guard shouted, you just kept your glare set on player 333, you were going to for sure kill him the first chance you got. As soon as the gaurd left you, you leaned down snatching your boyfriend's necklace from his stupid friend making your way back to the bunks, crawling into his bunk laying down.

Thanos woke up with a gasp, feeling at his throat and jaw, wincing as he felt stitching thread sitting inside of his skin holding it closed "Player 230, you have been eliminated, but we are offering you a chance to still earn money, if you are willing to accept we shall allow you to become part of our staff of guards for the games, if you choose to decline, we will eliminate you from the games" The guard spoke.

Whenever you walked into the address Thanos had left you with, you were greeted by a fluffy dog, a note sitting on the counter of the kitchen

'Su-bong! Congrats on the game show! So glad you're back home, we took care of your baby for you!'

Su-bong, it was a pretty name, you weren't sure why he chose Thanos instead of that, you explored the house further, getting a new sense of who your boyfriend was beyond the games. You would continue on for three years, growing close with Thanos's previous friends and neighbor, as you were lying on the couch one night, you heard soft scratching at your door, slowly walking over and opening it, you spotted a small black and pink envelope, you felt like it was a dream, or like it was some sick joke, as you opened the card you saw the familiar shapes and numbers. You felt sick, but deep down, you had a drive, a drive to revenge Thanos in the only way you knew how to. Hearing the phone trill and the deep voice ask for your name and date of birth, repeating the information back you looked at your baby "Don't worry, your daddy would want me to do this"

Oh were you so wrong, as soon as Su-bong got information back that y/n l/n was becoming a player again, he was fuming, why the hell would you come back? What was your reasoning? God he wanted to kill you for being so stupid.

Waking up in the large room again was startling, you didn't even go to a pick up spot, you literally just fell asleep at home, now you were back? Slowly walking to the center of the room with everybody, you took notice to the different things they had added and taken away, and how quickly they rushed you to the first game. Walking into redlight greenlight you held the cross necklace tightly in your hand, yelping whenever a guard yanked you back behind one of the large green doors that were propped open "What are you doing back, y- Player 243" The guard said, and for a minute, you could swear you knew his voice, but you quickly shook it off. "Just like everybody else, trying to win money" You snapped shoving past the circle guard, not being able to shake him whispering 'still just as rough' like he knew you. After being through the games once before it made the game relatively easy, but slightly boring aswell. You opened the cross locket, new fresh pills sitting neatly inside, you never said you were clean, you had picked up the habit about three days after getting home, emptying out the remainder of his stash within a week. As you set the pill on your tongue locking the necklace back you waited for it to kick in, not ignoring the guard slowly making his way to the other end of the field.

The pill hit you faster than expected, leaving you a smiling mess skipping around the field as people panicked, having the same realization you did the first time you ever played, but you didn't care though, you jumped and skipped towards the end, purposely bumping into people as you went by causing their eliminations. As you leaped across the safety point you cheered, flipping the doll off before a hand grabbed you dragging you off through a doorway hidden within the wallpaper. You looked around, this area was different than the rest, dark blue and purple walls with no doors, just stairs "Are you high right now?" The guard asked, the way his hands grabbed you relaxed you rather than scared you, you couldn't place why though, you tried to break free of his grasp, but he just tightened his hold "l-let go y-you're hurting me" You whispered trying to break free, the walls opened up as the players funneled in to go back to the room, an older man coming over "Excuse me, but I believe she asked you to let her go" He demanded, the guard dropped his hold, you immediately clung to the man holding onto his jacket tightly as you both walked back to the room. You spent dinner time getting to know player 213, who ended up being a younger guy who was fucked over in the same way your late boyfriend was.

When lights out came, you tried to make your way back, but three guards stopped you, rising their guns and escorting you out, your hands shook violently, this was new, maybe they were onto you? You were stopped in a large room, a giant screen showing the field for redlight greenlight "Player 243, you're causing quite the distraction for one of my guards" A man in a black mask and long coat said approaching you "I-I don't even know any guards! He is causing a distraction for me!" You argued, trying to hide your body shaking to the point it could be mistaken as a seizure, you weren't sure if you were going to die or not, you had a puppy had home to care for, you couldn't die. "So we're willing to offer you a deal. go home. Don't come back, and don't try to either" He said, you tilted your head "How does that benefit me in any way?" You asked, attitude lacing your tone with a hint of annoyance "Just take the deal, y/n, it's safer" You heard someone speak from a few feet behind you "Oh my god...you!? What is your fucking deal with me!? Who are you!?" You asked looking at the stupid O mask "You look so stupid just standing there!" You shouted starting to grow angry "Go ahead number 30" You heard the other masked guy say, and you watched as the guard pulled his mask off, the black underhood covering everything that a few strands of hair and bright blue eyes, and for a moment you had to remind yourself, Su-bong was dead.

Watching him pull off the underhood your breath got stuck in your throat, his overgrown purple hair was laying in every different direction, being slightly shorter than him allowed you to see the scar underneath his jaw. "S-Su-b-" You started but he shot you a harsh glare, you felt your hands start to shake, your mind starting to spiral, god damn did you need a high right now, and a damn good one at that. "30" He replied harshly, this was a different Su-bong than you knew, you barely recognized this version. "I thought you died" You whispered, feeling yourself lose your voice "I'll explain later, just take the deal, leave. go. don't come back" He said harshly, taking long strides to stand in front of you staring you down "O-Ok, If you want me to go" You whispered, looking back towards the man in the black mask who just nodded. Su-bong put his mask back on as he walked you out towards a dock inside of a cave somewhere within the building you had played the games in. You stayed silent, occasionally looking at him, studying his face, almost four years of not seeing him, of thinking he had died, and yet he was here. As he walked ahead slightly to scan his mask you took the opportunity to pop another pill into your mouth, ingesting it quickly right as his head turned around to stare at you, somehow even without being able to see his face you could feel his glare on you.

You stepped on the boat watching as Su-bong stood back as another person held a cloth to your face, you didn't fight it off, his words repeating in your head 'Ill explain later' Was he coming back? Waking back up in your actual bed was relieving, but you had a need deepness in your chest, Thanos was still out there..and he left you. You laid in bed for what felt like months, trying desperately to find a way back to the island to find Su-bong while being high out of your mind, until one night. It was maybe three or four am, you were wide awake, music blaring in your headphones while looking at the paperwork you had out in front of you, a rolled joint in one hand, a pill in the other. Popping the pill in your mouth you groaned, none of these papers made sense at all, and you could've sworn you heard the lock to the door try to click three different times in the last minute, thats whenever you did hear it click, you quickly walked over holding the door shut, not wanting whoever was trying to break in, in. "So help me.." You heard a frustrated and exhausted voice mutter before you were knocked off of your feet.

--

part two comin soon, like always lmk what you think lovelies <3

[sunderwight]

SVSSS "no Abyss" fluff AU where Shen Qingqiu just keeps accidentally proposing to a full grown disciple Luo Binghe in ways that don't register to him, but do register to Binghe, but Binghe also knows that his Shizun is clueless and doesn't actually mean it, so he's trapped in a hell of constantly getting what he desires most and fighting the urge to take advantage of the situation in order to actually claim it.

For instance, it turns out that PIDW has a knock-off version of Valentine's Day thanks to one really ill-planned VIP chapter. Shen Qingqiu found that one so egregious even he mostly scrubbed it from his mental records, but the long and short of it is that in the PIDW chocolate exists, but it's a symbolic treat that is only meant to be given to someone you intend to marry.

Of course, Shen Qingqiu discovers chocolate in PIDW and IMMEDIATELY hands it over to Luo Binghe, because he wants to see how Binghe's magnificent cooking skills can utilize this ingredient. Also he wants bon bons and this seems like the only way he's gonna get any in this lifetime.

Naturally, Binghe does make delicious bon bons, all the while fighting down the urge to be like "you proposed so we're getting married now, no take backs!"

Shizun eats the chocolates and Binghe counts slowly backwards from ten and reminds himself that getting what he wants by way of trickery would ultimately deny him what he wants most, which is for Shen Qingqiu to choose him of his own volition.

And of course, this shit just keeps happening. Somehow Shen Qingqiu keeps "forgetting" (read: subconsciously repressing) the little details about various proposal customs in PIDW (of which there are A LOT thanks to all the wife acquisitions) and proposing to Binghe almost constantly. This part of the world has a special ritual proposal wine? Better give some to Binghe! This demonic cult requires one to present a specific monster kill to their intended? Shen Qingqiu just so happened to kill one such monster himself and now he's given it over to Binghe to claim the parts (Binghe's cultivation would make better use of them!) They're visiting a neighboring sect where couples traditionally tie their wrists together with a particular type of rope as a symbol of engagement? Somehow, someway, Shen Qingqiu is going to find a good reason to tie himself to Binghe with the betrothal rope.

Not only is this dance giving Luo Binghe intense mixed feelings, and causing him to lie awake at night trying to figure out if Shen Qingqiu somehow does actually know what he's doing, and wants Binghe to bamboozle him into a marriage (or is that just wishful thinking??), it also causes him ever-more stress whenever SQQ goes on a mission with anyone else.

Especially Liu Qingge.

What if he does the clueless not-proposing to Liu Qingge? What if Liu Qingge proves to be less strong-willed than Luo Binghe (absolutely possible) and "accepts"? What if he's stupid enough to not figure out that Shen Qingqiu is a clueless idiot, and thinks it's genuine?

Shizun might marry him just to avoid having an awkward conversation!

Anyway things come to a head when finally, for once, Luo Binghe is the one who does the accidental proposal. And this time Shen Qingqiu does notice, and he gets all flustered and scolds Binghe to "be more careful" and "not waste such gestures on this old master, or anyone Binghe doesn't want taking advantage!" and Luo Binghe, who has aged one thousand decades in the past few years, still nobly resists the urge to lay out all the times Shizun has made this exact same "mistake" towards him and instead just confesses. Shoots his shot. Now or never!

He almost immediately regrets it because he had a whole plan for how to slowly ease Shizun into the idea over the course of several years, and he's prepared to be rejected now that he's fucked that up. Because he knows his master is delicate about stuff like this. Why else would he be so atypically obtuse?

But, well. Shen Qingqiu always said that the most realistic thing about the harem was that no one in their right mind would turn down a marriage proposal from Luo Binghe.

So he just, uh, says yes?

Binghe's like, you mean this whole time all I had to do was be the one to ask?!

But also he's really too happy to give a shit about the particulars either. They will have a beautiful wedding! No take backs. If SQQ gets cold feet then Luo Binghe has a list and compiled evidence of fifty million marriage proposals from him, so now he definitely has to follow through!

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny is Diana's Big Brother (and annoys the hell out of her)

So!

Danny decided to reveal himself to his Parents one day, and it didn't go well. Thankfully, Jazz managed to get him out of the Lab and they fled into the Ghost Zone, destroying the Portal behind them.

They seek refuge with some of their friends, and after a while they find a permanent home with Pandora in the Ancient Greek Sector. She found them while they were wandering the Zone in search of a place to sleep and happily took them in.

Danny also finds out that he is the new Ghost Prince after an incident where Fright Knight almost kills Skulker for "Daring to attack the Prince!"

So life is getting better for Danny. But he soon finds out that as the Ghost Prince, he needs a Parent to take over until he comes of Age. And he doesn't really have parents anymore.

He tries to set up Jazz as his Legal Guardian, but since she is his sister (and a newly forming Halfa, therefore also too young) she doesn't count.

Thankfully, he had the perfect candidate right there with Pandora! And she happily adopted them, she was basically already acting like their new Mom anyways, do it wasn't that much of a change. All she needs to do is keep the peace for a few decades until Danny reaches the Legal Ghost Age. (100 yrs old)

And of course, since he was adopted by Pandora he wants to learn about her Culture! So he asks her to take him on a trip to her Home Dimension and Home Country to learn about it.

So they head off to Themyscira.

And since Danny is technically Royalty, Not a Human Man, and the adopted son of Pandora (one of their greatest heroes of the past) he is tentatively allowed to visit the Island.

(Also, Danny can shapeshift, so it wouldn't be too big of a problem if he wanted to)

While there he meets Pandora's sister, Hippolyta, and her newly born Daughter, Diana.

Danny instantly decides that Diana is his new Little Sister.

And he also decides to indulge in all of the Big Brother Urges he has never been able to get away with with Ellie, and annoys the hell out of her in a way only big brothers can manage.

He teases her in front of her friends, pranks her occasionally, has play fights with her that end with a Forest being wiped off the map, and generally annoys the hell out of her.

But he also does all the good brother things like protect her from bullies, gives her wise advice, comfort her when she feels sad, and even helps comb her hair (she realized that he thrives on domestic stuff, since he never got to appreciate it when he was a kid)

He also introduces Diana to Jazz, and they get on like a house on fire! Unfortunately, Diana found out that Jazz can actually reign in Danny whenever he gets too overbearing and weaponizes this to great effect.

Ellie too, although they are hence banned from ever hanging out without supervision ever again (the observants couldn't walk right for a decade after that incident)

They go on like this for a few centuries, even after Danny takes up the Throne and has less time to hang out with her.

But Diana still loves her big brother, annoyances and all. Still, she will absolutely never let him know about the League. She wouldn't survive the embarrassment.

...

Wait, who did this Cult just say they were summoning?

[miguelhugger2099]

Eye for an Eye

Summary: Miguel rescues you in an ugly way. A/N: my guilty pleasure is sometimes i wanna be saveddd Warnings: Brief suggestion to sexual harrassment/assault, a bit of violence.

Somehow in the year 2099, most people didn't understand that Spider-Man in this age didn't follow the famous "no killing" rule that the original Spider-Man upheld in the Heroic Age. Most people meaning criminals.

Spider-Man, even when saving people from falling from skyscrapers or punching Public Eye scum in the face, if pushed to his limits- he would kill. This was his rules, his timeline, his Nueva York and if some pesky criminal wouldn't understand that then he'd get rid of them by any means.

So where do you come in all this?

Despite your efforts at secrecy, in the dead of night Spider-Man would often escort you home after work or if you had gotten into trouble with some purse snatcher. Other times, he'd sneak in your apartment window after a long fight, wanting to see you and have you patch up the wounds that would take a little more time to heal.

Spider-Man had revealed to you that he was actually Miguel O'Hara, the handsome stranger that had seemingly bumped into you more and more often after your very first encounter with Spider-Man. Having already been in an established relationship, you felt your heart drop at this major secret.

A part of you was angry at him for not telling you. For revealing your feelings about Miguel to his alter ego Spider-Man and making a fool of yourself. For all the nights he cancelled seeing you without explanation-something that put a strain on your relationship for a while. 

However the other half of you was drowned in worry. So all those times his masked covered face had come in to see you, bloody and bruised while you fixed him up, it was all him. He could die, you told him. Why would he do this to himself?

"I haven't been good all my life," He groaned while you pressed a damp cloth to his wound one night. "I think of all this as repentance for being a shocking moron in my earlier years."

"There are other ways to repent. Like donating to charity or some confession booth at a church. Not some...Not risking your life." You could barely look at him, tears brimming your eyes and threatening to fall while it clouded your vision. 

"I'm not religious." Miguel replies. "It wouldn't mean anything with these in my body now. They'd probably still send me to Hell regardless." He lifts his hand, his talons auto extracting from his fingertips and he feels the bile from his stomach stir, an urge to vomit at the disgust of himself.

He forces his talons back into his fingertips so he could tilt your chin up to face him. His thumb caressed your cheek to wipe off a stray tear that had fallen. "I'm sorry I put this all on you." He whispers.

You shake your head. "You're stupid, I always knew that," You sniffle and Miguel bites his cheek so he doesn't smile. "But I could help you better now. I...I know who you are and everything makes sense now, we could-"

Miguel stops you by shushing you. "No, no, no. You're not helping me anymore." Your heart drops again.

"What do you mean?"

"This is the last time we'll see each other."

Your jaw drops this time. Eyes that widened in shock now turn to anger. "Shock, Miguel. I knew you were an asshole but breaking up with me after revealing your secret identity to me has got to be one of the lowest things you're doing."

You lean away from him, bloodied and dried cloth thrown at his chest. "I was useful when you could just pop in whenever? No strings attached–was it fun?" You scoff in hurt.

Miguel grits his teeth. "No, carajo, it's-it's me-"

"Don't bullshit me Miguel with that it's not you, it's me rhetoric." You cross your arms tightly to your chest.

"It's dangerous!" He barks back.

"Like it wasn't dangerous before?" 

"It was! That's why I can't come back! I can't let myself lead them to you!" Miguel sits up and grabs onto your shoulders tightly and gives you a firm shake. His hands shake as he holds you, his head hanging. "This...this power of mine. I...it can lead so many of those assholes to you." He whispers. "I trusted you enough to come here, which I hate myself for. I should’ve never involved you in any of this.” Miguel’s hands fall from your shoulders and down your arms to grip your hands in his. “I’ve already put you in so much danger. If you got hurt, I don’t know what I’d do.”

The feeling of his talons pricking your skin and the sight of his fangs leaking a drop of his venom made you think maybe he did know what he’d do. He would just really want to avoid it.

“Miggy,” You say softly. “How about you let me make that choice? Now that I know, it doesn’t scare me. Do you know why?” You take your right hand out his grip to cup his cheek. His tired eyes look up to yours, nostril dried with blood and a scar on his forehead that surely needed bandages.

“Because I know you’ll protect me. You’re Spider-Man.” You lean in closer, Miguel under your spell. “Let me help you. That’s my decision. In return, if I’m ever a damsel in distress, I hope you’ll help me.” You give him a small smile and his hand covers yours on his cheek. He squeezes your fingers. “I promise.” He swears. Miguel always kept his promises even if he stumbled on the way. So when he went to visit you after his nightly patrol, he didn’t expect to see your entire apartment in disarray. His mask phases off his head, scarlet eyes wide and panicked. He gulps down his fear, muscles tense as he steps into your room. Blankets and pillows on the floor, some slashed and stuffing being poured out the seams. Your desk that held photos of you and your friends had also fallen to the floor, glass shattered and frames broken. Miguel takes another quiet step outside of your room. Your entire living room was a mess. Your couch had been moved and cut in half, lamps cracked and more photos on the floor. His heart stops when he sees blood in the kitchen. Some of the knives had been taken and another wave of fear splashes down his spine. It was clear there had been some sort of resistance with whoever took you. Whoever took you. Who took you? Miguel feels the fear morph into rage, his mask phasing back on his head. “Lyla. Scan this place.” He growls. His AI assistant glitches into existence, her eyes behind her pink heart shaped glasses full of worry. She begins phasing in and out of different places while Miguel lets the anger fester in his body. HIs talons on his fingers and feet itch to come out, to be sharpened for whatever poor soul’s flesh he’ll rip into. His fangs seep out his paralyzing venom, his tongue licking off the excess. Lyla appears in front of him, more meek and smaller compared to her usual upbeat and sarcastic nature. She knew there was a time and a place. “The blood isn’t hers. They most likely knocked her out since there’s no trace of her own blood around. Fingerprints on the knife handle are hers. No other DNA samples could be acquired.”

Miguel walks towards the entrance of your apartment. His hand grazes the door frame that had been split apart. Lyla appears next to him. “Forced entry, probably by foot. There’s some traces of wet soil–mainly seawater. I’ve tracked several fishing ports–most in Staten Island.” She displays holograms of different spots, standing tall by his side while he skims through. “Did you find a match on the blood?” His voice rumbles. “Negative, Miguel. None in the criminal database, including The Raft. Looks like this is the work of someone new.” Miguel grows furious. He roars as he punches his hand through the already destroyed couch. Some novice wants his attention so badly, he’s willing to piss him off for it. Miguel swings out of your place and searches the entirety of Staten Island’s fishing ports until he finds the one he was looking for. You don’t know where you are but you can feel everything. A sash was wrapped tightly around your eyes, some rope or zip ties held your wrists together and your ankles to the chair you sat on. You felt the pounding of a headache when you woke up. The last thing you remembered was one of the intruders lifting his gun and slamming the barrel down on your temple. They grew tired of you after reaching into the kitchen to protect yourself. You held them off well but you were still just one person. The sash had been lifted from your eyes and you groaned when a bright light of a lamp shined in your face. While you squinted, you could make out at least three people in front of you.

“I’m sorry about my men. They’re still a little new. You know how it is when you get trainees for a new job.” The one in the middle speaks, you noticed he also is the one that took off your sash. “What the hell was the point of all this? You just kidnap random people from their homes?” You glare up at the man and his two puppets. “Streets say you’re good friends with Spidey.” One of the smirks. “Had one of these guys watch him crawl in your window like some squashed bug.” You scoff softly, rolling your side to the side. “So what?”

The man in front shrugs. “Either you’re his whore or you know him. So which is it sweetheart?” He rests his hand on the back seat of your chair and leans in close to your face. “Who is Spider-Man?”

You licks your lips and stare back up at him, choking back the stretch his breath was. “I don’t know.”

He grins. “Hm. So you’re his whore. A special one at that. He doesn’t appear in just anyone’s home so what services do you offer him in exchange for some protection? Do they apply here? Baby, I can protect you too.”

He’s sick, your mind screamed. You struggled against your restraints.

“Shock you.” You spit on his shirt and he lands a hard slap across your cheek.

He mumbles a string of curses before grabbing your chin and forcing you to face him again. “Don’t forget who’s in the shocking chair, sweetheart. Your hero ain’t here so be a doll and shut the hell up.”

Your chest heaved up and down in deep breaths to calm your scared heart. You feel your cheek stinging and it didn’t help with this rotten man’s fingers digging into your skin.

Your silence pleases him and his other hand reaches down to your knee. “I don’t wanna hurt you, sweet thing. It’s just one simple question and I’ll let you go.” He lies. His hand rides up your thigh and your leg tries to kick him away from you but he just grips you tighter. “I don’t know.” You plead hoarsely. “I know, I know. So you say.” Out of the corner of your eye you see one of his men snatched into the darkness with a clawed hand around his mouth. Miguel. The guy in front of you digs his nails deeper in your skin and you can feel the scratch. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.” You whine at the pain, pursing your lips to keep yourself quiet. “See, Spidey’s head goes for millions of dollars–money you can’t even comprehend so if you could do your community a favor of just letting us in on some intel on the son of a bitch; that’d be great.” “You wanna kill him?” You ask breathlessly, looking to the other side to see another newbie being hindered, his neck tilted to the side while some teeth bite into his flesh. His body slowly lost consciousness and was also dragged into the darkness silently. “Most of Nueva York wants that guy dead. All the ones on top but I’m dirt poor, sweetie. It’d be a disservice for the hero to not let me kill him. Shouldn't he give to the poor and needy?” He sighs, letting go of your cheek so both his hands rests on your upper thighs. You feel your skin crawling and try to move away as far as you can in your seat. “But you don’t know anything do you? Then I’d be doing a disservice by throwing out some useful goods here, don't you think?” His grimy hands grip your hips, looping his fingers around your jean belt loops. Before you could even think, the man is instantly ripped off of you by his shirt. He’s thrown back on his side, skidding as he comes to a halt. Spider-Man towers in front of you, his back facing you. You could still see the rage oozing from his suit, shoulders and muscles tense and claws out. His chest rises and falls with each jagged breath, the only sound coming out of him.

“Spider-Man!” The man growls, stumbling to get back on his feet. His pistol had slipped from the back of his jeans, sliding away from him. “Dammit–Darrell! Fernando!” He calls to his two men but he freezes. On the floor are both his associates, one’s clothes ripped apart with claw marks on his chest, the other with his jaw slacked open and two puncture holes in his neck–a strange mixture of blood and another liquid oozing from the wound. He lets out a strangled scream as he looks back up at Spider-Man. His tall frame stalks over to him but the man crawls to find his gun. Before he could grab it, Miguel stomps on the man's arm, giving a satisfying crack to his bone which the man cries out painfully. While he writhes on the concrete ground, Miguel grabs onto his broken arm and lifts him up–he screams, trying to push Miguel away. “You wanted to kill me?” Miguel growls, his voice deep and menacing. The man pleads for his life and another set of footsteps come from behind. “Shoot him!” The man yells as Miguel looks back over his shoulder. The rest of the group comes up from behind Miguel, raising–what Miguel considers pathetic–guns up to his face. The eyes on Miguel’s mask squint slightly and just as quickly, he turns with the man in his hands and uses his body to protect himself from the onslaught of bullets. The man’s entire group fires and every single bullet pierces into his body, splattering blood on the ground and Miguel’s suit. Miguel makes sure that you weren’t hit at any moment. Miguel tosses the limp corpse to the side and pounces into the group, attaching his fangs into some man’s neck while his talons ripped along his arm to let go of the rifle he was holding. Chaos ensues and they all begin shooting at one another in hopes that one shot could land on Spider-Man. Miguel’s claws ripped apart limbs and skin, every single hand that raised against you was littered to the ground. He continues to swing and jump around, letting everyone get lost in the confusion before tearing through chests and stomachs. His rage knew no bounds at the moment. He had planned to just come in secretly while he still had a part of his mind. Get in, use his venom, take you and get out. But when he saw what that scum would’ve done to you, touching you, gripping onto you–he lost his mind. Even with Lyla’s brief protest, Miguel couldn’t help but want to tear him apart. So he did.

It wasn’t often Miguel had to be reduced to such measures but everyone had their limits. By the time it was over, he barely noticed how silent it had become. His ears were still ringing, he felt like he was underwater as he gulped in heaps of air. “Miguel!” He hears Lyla yell at him. He snaps his head to where he heard her voice, blind rage melting when he sees you still in the chair. He sees Lyla with her arms crossed, her little foot tapping angrily in mid-air. Lyla had done her best to cover your sight and hearing of the crime Miguel had done with holograms of whatever–surely it was much nicer than watching Miguel gnaw off a piece of someone’s throat. Miguel glances at his hands stained and dripping with blood. He wipes them on his legs, hoping to get it off him before you could see. He falls to his knees in front of you with a soft whine of your name and his mask phases off. “Lyla, blur the room.” Lyla does as told and lets you see him. Your eyes are concerned and scared. “Miggy…” You whisper, feeling the trauma set in. “I’m here, I’m here–I told you I’d protect you, yeah?” Miguel uses his talons to cut off the zip ties from your wrists and ankles that were digging in your skin. Once you were free, you wrapped your arms around his neck and jumped into his arms. Miguel fell back but made sure to hug you back, his arms going around your waist while his other arm went up to cradle your head. He buried himself in your shoulder, breathing in the mixture of your natural scent and the scent of the man. He growled and held you tighter. He’d do something about that smell.

“I was so scared–I didn’t know what to do–How did you find me?” You babbled as you finally felt safe enough to sob and cry. “Don’t worry about that. You’re safe. You’re okay.” Miguel reassures you, kissing your temple and cheek, pulling away gently to brush your messy hair away from your face. He wipes your tears with the back of his hand, unintentionally leaving a bloody mark. “Shit..” He mumbles, ashamed and pulls his hand away. You stop him, holding his hand back to your cheek. You just wanted to feel him, his warmth. You weren’t stupid. You knew what happened when Lyla put up holograms that blurred what you weren’t supposed to see. You didn’t care. May they rot. “Thank you.” You whimpered. “Thank you.” Miguel presses a kiss to your forehead. “Always. I’ll take you home.” “But, my apartment–” You try to speak as Miguel moves to hold your body in one hand while he swings on his web with the other. “Not your apartment. Mine. My penthouse. I’m never leaving you out of my sight again.” Your arms were securely around his neck. He was still tense but much less before. You tried to look back down but he squeezed you tighter– he didn’t want you to see.

For tonight, he’d take care of you just like all those nights you took care of him.

[generic-sonic-fan]

Omega's Observations: Fire/Warning

Summary: Omega contemplates how others see his dynamic in Team Dark.

For @teamdarkweek. 657 words.

The assumption amongst the meatbags within the GUN organization is that Rouge and Shadow are his “minders”, and that Omega himself is some sort of crude automation incapable of processing anything other than “DESTROY ALL EGGMAN ROBOTS”. 

Omega didn’t correct their assumption at first. (His mistake. One of very few he’s ever made.) It didn’t matter what any meatbag thought at the time- at least, according to his earliest assessments. Early assessments that were made only the first few weeks following his escape from Eggman’s imprisonment. 

But now? The assumption that he is not an Ultimate Robot, that he is nothing more than a jumble of corrupted code crudely piloting the firearms on his frame? That he requires Rouge and Shadow in order to act or assess a situation? 

It’s a rage second only to his rage against Eggman proper. 

Killing everyone who turned and asked Rouge or Shadow about him whilst he was standing next to them would be a cathartic strategy, but it would also further the misunderstanding. Bystanders would assume that it was “an accident” and that he “didn’t mean it”, that he “was just programmed that way” and “didn’t fully grasp the consequences”. 

There are other battlefields besides destroying Eggman robots, he has learned, and he will dominate them all. Even if it means not acting on his impulses. Even if it means playing these stupid games that meatbags invent for themselves, such as conversation and social standings.

Instead, he gives warnings. Violent, graphic warnings, about what he would like to do with their viscera. But warnings nevertheless. The Commander is still not pleased, but upon being given the explanation, he has accepted it as a suitable compromise. 

Rouge is supportive. Shadow is. . . tolerant of it. 

Not that their opinions would ever control him. That is an arrangement the three of them reached a mere few hours after meeting each other, and it is the reason they are the only ones he tolerates joining him on missions. 

They are not his minders. They know this. They do not try to control his rampages. He fights alongside them, will destroy Eggman robots with them, but there is an understanding that if they find themselves disliking his methods they will withdraw, and leave him to it. 

They have yet to leave.

Even greater, they have kept up. Enough for him to upgrade their designation from “temporary alliance” to “partnership”, then even to “teammate”. Shadow was a given- his destructive potential is second only to himself, and he understands the rage that drives him. Rouge was the unexpected party- yet as her strategic aptitude gave way to more and more victories, she too was proven to be an exceptional teammate. 

Teammates. Not his minders. Not his leaders. 

And yet. . .

The command to “fire!” is his favorite word to hear from them. 

“Over here, Omega, fire!” 

“Kick their asses, Omega! FIRE!” 

Shadow and Rouge, not simply tolerating his talent for destruction, not covering it up, not waving it off or agreeing halfheartedly to get him to shut up about it. Not belittling him, or asking if he “cares about anything else”, or “jeez, you should find a hobby”, or “that isn’t what life is all about”, or any of the thousands of other things inane meatbags say in his general direction on a near-daily basis.  

Shadow and Rouge simply ask him to fire.

Omega is not bound to their orders. Yet there is little greater joy he feels than when he rains hellfire down-range in response- and finds them looking so pleased about it. Something like satisfaction swells in his processor whenever they clap him on the shoulder or tell him “good shooting”. It is tinged with just enough of his own pride to keep him from investigating it any further. 

He will never tell them about this. 

Instead, he will ask “PERMISSION TO FIRE?”, if only to hear Rouge and Shadow urge him forward yet again. 

[reikissu]

Baji Keisuke dating headcanons.

a/n: a new dating hcs for baji, since my last ones were ooc as hell 😟 (mikey, draken, mitsuya, pahchin, kazutora)

genre: fluff, a bit of comedy

reader: gender neutral

warnings: cursing, mentions of violence and injuries

baji’s an odd one, despite him being an infamous delinquent and being held back a year, he’s the sweetest boy ever.

he’d call you baby, dumbass or babe, it depends on different days.

he’ll do anything for you, even if it meant killing someone. need help with something? alright, he’s up for the job, but if it involves homework, he’ll try his best. you hate someone with a burning passion? he’ll beat the living hell out of them for you.

he sometimes gets into fights on purpose so you’ll take care of him, you’ll hear a stone hitting your bedroom window and you’ll see your beaten up boyfriend with a shit eating grin outside your house.

“babyyy! treat my wounds please!” “you got into another fight? oh my god. 😠” “hehe.” “don’t hehe me, keisuke! whatever.. get in here.”

his mother adores you, she’s very happy for you and keisuke. she’s proud of her son because you always tell her how well he treats you, she now knows her son will be a good husband. ryoko would give you food as thanks for making keisuke happier, she’d also always ask him about you.

“how’s y/n?” “huh? oh, they’re doing good.” “oh okay, when will they stay over again?” “hmmm.. not sure, i’ll ask them tomorrow.”

there’s times where he’s in a bad mood, he gets the urge to punch someone or burn cars, but he then remembered that you told him not to. so he just pays you a visit whenever he feels cranky.

his type of dates would be after school or at night, after school you both would go to his favorite café and eat while telling each other what happened in your day, at night he would take you out on a ride or bring you to a night market.

he dreams big, and he works hard to make sure he’ll be able to achieve that life with you. a life with you where you both are newlyweds, living in an apartment without a single worry, having cats and cute kids. it makes him blush when he thinks about it.

if you’re a hardworker who never takes a break, he’ll drag your ass out. “Huh? Kei, where are we going?” “We’re going to that place you like so much.” “Why? I was doing something you know!” “Dumbass, it’s been days since you haven’t left your room, i don’t wanna open the door and see you dead on the floor.”

he would give you small things as his way of showing you his love aside from kisses and hugs. like your favorite snacks, keychains of your favorite flower or animal, and jewelry he can afford.

you both would have matching phone charms and rings, the phone charms would be cats and the rings would be sun and moon themed. he never takes off his ring, even if he was in a fight or if he was taking a bath.

he would proudly introduce you to mikey and the others, he doesn’t care if it’s embarrassing, he wants to show you off.

“Meet Y/N, they’re my lover.” “Wait, what?!” “Woah, you got yourself a saint if they can handle how much of an asshole you are.” “Nice to meet you, Y/N.” “Man, i never thought you’d be able to get a lover!” “They’re hot.” “HA?!” and everyone else has to hold baji back from beating kazutora up.

he gets jealous, even of kids. one time, a little boy came up to you and told you that he wants to marry you one day, you just said thank you and laughed it off… while keisuke, was glaring down at the kid and was like “😠… Hm.”

he would introduce you to every cat he owns. “This one’s Yuko, this one here is Peyoung, and this one, my favorite is named Y/N Jr.” “You seriously named a cat after me?” “Duh, you should’ve expected that from me.”

he’d always crave for your warmth, even at school. whenever you two are alone in a place at school, he’d hug you, if you two are staying over at his place or your place, he’d cuddle you. his arms around your waist, his face buried into the crook of your neck as he takes in your scent.

if you have younger siblings or pets, he’d gladly take care of them if you are busy or anything. he’d be the type to get along well with your parents too.

he would smell like Versace Eros, he would probably have that as his perfume because one of his rich relatives gave him that as a birthday present. so it makes you giddy inside whenever you hug him.

he isn’t very talkative and nice to other students except you, if they’d try flirting with him he’d immediately tell them you’re his lover. you are the only exception to him, no one else can play with his hair, touch his body, or even try to fix his necktie and fake glasses.

rando: “Ah, Baji-kun, your collar’s wrinkled.” he’d swat their hand away if they even try to touch his clothes, “Don’t touch me, i can fix it myself.” but if it’s you, it’s an automatic yes.

baji would ask help from you if he was having hard time with some topics in some subjects, and he’d feel bad for bothering you. but you always assure him it’s fine for him to ask for help. that’s why his test scores went up, all thanks to everything you taught him.

in short, he’s the type to improve his flaws, to study hard, to be more careful with his attitude, all for you. he’s willing to do everything, even if it has risks of death. his heart only belongs to you.

© reikissu do not repost/steal any of my works and repost it on other platform/s. I do not own the characters i write for at all, reblogs are appreciated though ♡

[manicpixieyandere]

The League of Villains

Society and Quirks

So we just finished binging all of MHA and read the remaining chapters of the manga. And damn we did not expect the League of Villains to be some of our favorite characters to ever grace this Earth! But it's kinda unfortunate the franchise the ended up in. Let's talk about that!

First let's start by talking about the LoV and what quirks represented for them. In MHA it's quite common for quirks to be used as allegories for different kinds of marginalization.

Heteromorphs like Spinner are a representation of racism.

Toga's quirk is a representation of how she loves someone and how society deems that love "wrong". Toga is shown to love both boys and girls. People beg her to "just be normal". She is obviously queer.

Dabi's body was not made to deal with his own quirk. This reads as being born disabled. He also has the common disabled experience of being told to forget his dreams and aspirations.

Twice's double quirk and the trauma that came from it lead to him developing dissociative identity disorder.

Some in the LoV were also marginalized / had a rough start without anything to do with their quirks.

Magne is a trans woman.

Mr. Compress comes from a family lineage of criminals.

Shigaraki is a League of Legends player.

(No but seriously this poor kid was abused and manipulated his whole life).

Speaking of which a lot of the LoV were abused and / or neglected as children. Most of the shit Shigaraki went through was due to All For One, but it's not like his bio dad was stellar either. We all know Endeavor gets the worst dad of the year award for how he raised Toya, but Dabi also got the AFO manipulation to a degree as well. Toga's parents were neglectful and verbally abusive.

All of this is to say; The LoV members clearly had a rough life. But they found a family in each other! They all cared for each other in their own way! Twice and Toga were very close and would take care of each other. Dabi burns down Toga's childhood home. Spinner and Shigaraki bond over video games and were genuine friends. Compress takes care of everyone and saves them. Everyone is sad when Magne and Twice die.

All of this leads to this beautiful line from Shigaraki:

He wanted to be their hero. He wanted to destroy the world not just for his own urges, but to make the world a better place for his friends, for the LoV. But did he succeed, even a little bit?

Wellll... The hero society that doomed them all is still going well and thriving. The most change to come out of their mission was a bigger focus on quirk counseling. This is definitely important but it is not the only thing that needed to change. And it only changed because of ONE PERSON. The ONE person who showed empathy for Toga. Ochaco is the one to implement this change, but she is only one person. She cannot change the entire world on her own.

This is where we just can't get past the clear biases in the writing of MHA. The villains are not treated fairly. For example the heroes get off scott free with practically EVERYTHING. Bakugo dies? Just kidding! Oh the condition for him coming back to life was now Edgeshot has to die? Nah he's fine too. Deku had an entire arc about wanting to save Shigaraki when no one else agreed, only for him to kill him in the end. And after killing him it's not like he implemented changes to help prevent whoever the next Shigaraki is gonna be. The cycle will continue until changes are made.

So as you can see there is clear favoritism in the writing. And that is something that tends to be an issue whenever you have a plot device such as quirks that represent marginalization and you have villains who are trying to fight their oppressors. Let's look at a few examples!

For animation fans an example that leaves a bitter taste in our mouth is The Dragon Prince's dark magic. Dark magic is something that is seen as corrupt but also explained to be a way for humans to have magic to fight their oppressors as they were seen as less than since they had no magic. But dark magic is also used as an allegory for drugs and addiction, so it gets messy.

For the superhero fans let's look at The Boys. Supes are a complete mess. You have them representing conservatives and cops in an "all supes are bastards way" while also having them as a marginalized race in danger of being genocided. You can't have both.

Both of these examples show messy allegories in fantasy where rising against your oppressors is painted as wrong and the marginalized are also seen in a negative light due to some other component of their fantasy (drugs and cops respectively). MHA falls into the same trap with its villains. They're fighting their oppressors. They are oppressed due to their quirks just being who they are, but those quirks also lead to violent murderous urges (decay and transform most of all). It ends up creating a scenario where you teach the audience that it's bad to rise against your oppressors, it's bad to want change.

So what could they have done differently? Without completely redoing the quirk fantasy, the simplest answer would be to REDO THE SYSTEM! They hinted many times in the series it needed to change somehow and just never did. Normal civilians even wanted it changed, not just the villains! But it just doesn't change. They needed to put more focus on that push not just from the villains but from the innocent civilians as well to prove it's something that needed to change. But it never will. It's fiction and the book is closed.

But just because it's fictional doesn't mean it doesn't represent real world events. The story teaches negative things about marginalization and how we should never make a stand. It's like telling all the women right now in America to not be angry their anatomy and rights are being taken away from them. It's telling those women to love the man who is doing this to them. It's telling queer people to just accept they can't get married or transition anymore. It's telling us there is nothing to be done. But remember that isn't true! If you keep fighting things could change. It unfortunately may not be in your lifetime, but at least we can try to make things better for the future generations so no one has to hurt like the LoV did, like real people do today.

[dixons-sunshine]

espinosa!reader established relationship with daryl and carol treats her like a sister she always protects

Something To Prove | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Espinosa!Reader

Summary: Ever since meeting you, Carol has felt an overwhelming urge to protect you at all costs. You were like a sister to her and she would go to great lengths to ensure your safety and your happiness. Now, after you went to her after an argument you had with Daryl, she made good on her promise and decided to give her best friend a piece of her mind.

Additional pairings: Carol Peletier x Fem!Espinosa!Reader (platonic)

Genre: Fluff, some angst

Era: Alexandria/Sanctuary, post Saviour war, pre the building of the bridge

Warnings: Swearing, arguing

Word count: 1.9k

A/n: Thank you so much for the request! I didn't know exactly what to write but I hope you like where I went with this. There's not a lot of Daryl x Reader in this, but it was so fun to write about Carol and reader's platonic relationship. I love Carol with my whole heart.

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests. AND NOW THEY'RE ALSO OPEN FOR ANY SCUD FROHMEYER REQUESTS! It's actually criminal how little fics about him there are, so send in any thoughts, headcannons or requests about him, along with some about our wonderful Daryl Dixon.

—

“Woah, woah, woah. Wait a second. He said that?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, wiping a stray tear from your eye. “I understand he doesn't want me to be in danger, but I can tell how much he hates it here. I don't want him to be alone, but he keeps pushing me away. I don't know what to do, Carol. He won't even talk to me about it without starting up an argument.”

Carol pulled you into her embrace, gently rubbing your back as you quietly cried into her shoulder. She slightly rocked you side to side, whispering reassuring things into your ear as she tried to calm you down. She held you tightly, refusing to let up until you felt better.

After a couple of minutes of just being held, you pulled back and wiped the remaining tears from your eyes. You gave her a weak smile and stood up, wiping your hands on your jeans.

“Sorry about all that,” you apologized sheepishly. “I don't know why I broke down like that.”

“Don't apologize,” she reassured you, waving you off. “It's good to let your emotions out every once in a while. Bottling them up doesn't help, believe me.”

“Maybe you should try telling that to Daryl,” you scoffed, folding your arms over your chest. “He's done nothing but bottle up his feelings lately. I understand that he's not the most open person when it comes to things like feelings, but he always talked to me whenever something was bothering him. Now he's becoming more like the Daryl I knew when we first met back at Terminus. Reserved and closed off.”

Carol nodded, intently listening to you. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

You shook your head. “No,” you began, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don't want him to get pissed at you either. I'll be fine.”

Carol pursed her lips and hesitantly agreed. “Okay, if you're sure.”

“I am,” you nodded, before hearing the walkie-talkie go off in your pocket, your sister on the other line.

“There's a problem. One of these pendejos caused a fight to break out and I can't find Daryl anywhere.”

“Mierda,” you cursed under your breath. You looked at Carol apologetically. “Sorry, I have to go.”

“It's okay,” she reassured you, getting up to give you a quick hug. “Be safe out there, alright?”

“Always am,” you quipped before rushing out of the room, talking to Rosita on the walkie-talkie. “I'm on my way. Keep them from killing each other.”

With that, you were gone. Carol looked at where you disappeared into and sighed, a million thoughts plaguing her mind, but she was sure about one thing—she had to confront Daryl about the way he was treating you. Carol was the one who had encouraged Daryl to pursue a romantic relationship with you in the first place, and she'd be damned if he threw it all away because of his stubborn nature.

With determination, she got up and walked out of the door, one destination clear in her mind. She knew exactly where Daryl would be at that moment, and it was as good a time as any to try and knock some sense into the archer.

—

“Figured I'd find you here.”

Daryl looked up at the approaching woman, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He grunted in acknowledgement at Carol, turning his gaze away from her and back to the ground.

Carol sat down next to the archer. She stared ahead and sighed, catching Daryl's attention. “I know I've said this a lot, but I really think Y/n is the one for you, you know?”

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, not sure why the Peletier would bring you up as the topic of conversation. “Yeah,” he started, nodding slightly. “I think so too.”

“Really?” Carol asked. When Daryl nodded, she continued. “Then why the hell are you pushing her away? Do you have something you wanna prove?”

“I ain't pushin' her away,” he replied, more confused now. He took a final drag from his cigarette before putting it out, flicking it away from him.

“Then why the hell would she feel the need to come to me for advice on what to do? In tears, might I add.”

Daryl's frown deepened. “Wha'?” he asked, suddenly feeling small under Carol's scrutinizing stare. “She came to ya cryin'?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, pursing her lips. “She came to me about the argument you had with her this morning. From what she told me, you said some pretty nasty stuff. What's that all about?”

Daryl sighed, realisation dawning on him. Memories of the argument he had with you flashed through his mind and he grimaced. He immensely regretted everything he had said to you in that argument, but he didn't know how to fix it. You and Daryl had been arguing a lot more since he started supervising over the Sanctuary. He didn't trust any of the former Saviours and he knew some of them had it out for him, so having you there with him made him scared. Scared that the Saviours would take their anger out on you. Scared that he couldn't protect you against all of them. He felt so scared for you.

Admittedly, having you there did make him feel better. To have your presence beside him and to be able to hold you at night while you talked about your day made this hellhole a lot better for him, but it also made him anxious. He didn't want any of the backlash meant for him to get you hurt. He couldn't watch get hurt. He'd never be able to forgive himself.

“Daryl?” Carol voiced, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked over at her and frowned.

“She tell ya everythin'?” he asked, continuing when she nodded. “Then I dun' have anythin' to say.”

“You do!” she exclaimed in frustration. “Why are you treating her like that? She's your partner, Daryl! That woman would do anything for you!”

“Tha's wha' scares me!” he bit back loudly. When he saw Carol go quiet, he lowered his voice. “She has proven tha' she would do anythin' fer me by bein' here at this shit hole. I can see tha' bein' here is takin' a toll on her. And these assholes ain't makin' her life any easier. I jus' want her to be safe.”

“Daryl,” Carol started, putting a comforting hand on the archer's shoulder. “You know she can handle herself. And even if she couldn't, no place would ever be really safe. There are Saviours everywhere now. At Alexandria, Hilltop and the Kingdom. It doesn't matter whether she's here or there. If she's here, at least you'll be able to keep her safe.”

Daryl pondered over Carol's words. After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke up. “I messed up, didn't I?”

“Big time,” Carol nodded, chuckling softly. “But it's okay. Just go talk to her, and I mean really talk to her. No arguments.”

Daryl nodded and got up, turning and heading back into the Sanctuary. He only had one goal in mind; find you and beg for your forgiveness if he had to.

“Go get her, tiger!” Carol laughed from behind him, pleased that she was able to get through to him. She just hoped that his stubbornness wouldn't mess it up.

—

“Hey. Ya got a moment to talk?”

You looked up from the papers you were reading, locking eyes with Daryl. You could see him fidgeting with his hands, his body language radiating nervousness.

You nodded at him. “Yeah.”

Daryl inhaled sharply and stepped forward. You watched him anxiously, not knowing what to expect. The longer he took to speak, the more your mind started to wander—did he do something wrong? Was he bit? Was he leaving you for someone else?

“'M sorry 'bout this mornin',” he finally said, taking you by surprise. “I shouldn't have said wha' I said. I know yer jus' tryin' to look out fer me and I appreciate it. I jus' got scared tha' somethin' would happen to ya if ya stayed here with me. Most of these assholes dun' exactly like me and will do anythin' to hurt me. I jus' dun' want them to hurt ya to get back at me.”

You stepped forward and embraced Daryl in a tight hug, catching him off guard. However, he hugged you back tightly in a couple of seconds, burying his face into your shoulder. He breathed in your clean scent and instantly relaxed, his body sagging slightly.

“You should've told me how you felt, Dar. It would've saved us so many arguments,” you whispered, sighing in relief.

Daryl scoffed lightheartedly. “I doubt tha'. We woulda jus' argued 'bout whether ya should stay here or not.”

“I'm not leaving,” you said with a sense of finality in your voice. “I know how much you hate it here, Daryl. That's why I decided to stay. I stayed so that you didn't have to feel alone in this place.”

Daryl pulled back from the hug to look at you, keeping you in his arms. His heart fluttered at your revelation, and he gave you a small smile. “Ya stayed fer me?”

You nodded. “Of course I did. I love you, Daryl. I'd do anything for you.”

Daryl ducked his head down to press his lips against yours, catching them in a sweet kiss. The kiss lasted for a couple of seconds before he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “I love ya more.”

“I love you the most,” you retorted playfully, giving him a teasing smile.

“Ain't possible,” he replied, scoffing lightly.

“Agree to disagree,” you said playfully.

Daryl rolled his eyes affectionately before kissing you again, this time more feverishly than before. It didn't take long for Daryl to push you back against the table, hoisting you up by your thighs to sit on it.

You giggled against his lips. “Eager much?”

“Shut up,” he mumbled before attacking your neck with kisses, nibbling on your sweet spot beneath your ear. You moaned quietly and leaned your head back, giving him more access to your neck.

However, the moment was short-lived. The crackling of static from the radio startled the two of you, Eugene's voice coming through.

“Daryl, Y/n, we need you down by the trucks pronto, ASAP.”

Daryl groaned and lowered his head to rest on your shoulder, eliciting a laugh from you. You gently pushed him away from you and jumped off the table, grabbing his hand and interlocking your fingers.

“Come on, they need us. We can finish this later.”

“Gonna hold ya to tha',” he responded, giving you a heated stare.

You smiled at him. “C'mon, pretty boy. Let's go.”

[3vergr3en]

It'll only hurt a little 🩹

(🔧) PAIRING . Dean Winchester x f!reader

(📞) A/N . guys, I'm back 🥳 ik y'all missed me !!

(🔦) ADDITIONAL INFO . in here, dean is a fean. he's disgustingly horny. mutual pinning between dean & reader! Reader cares a lot for Dean while he's too busy thinking about you in ways that only appear in his (wet) dreams.

A guttural hiss slips out the man's mouth as you (try to) gently tap some ointment onto a gash along his hairline. "Fuck." He tries to keep his hands at his sides, but it's tricky when you keep digging the cloth into his wound. "Can’t you be any gentler?" It's as if you want him to be in pain.

Okay, that may be your intention. Cause for a grown man like himself, he sure doesn't know how much of a child he really is.

"I don't know. Maybe once you stop being stupid." You shot back, emphasizing the last word with a poke to his head.

He winces, a hand snapping up to grip your wrist, halting you from doing any more poking. "Fuck! Can you stop that?" He demands, glaring up at you. "You could've died tonight, Dean," you state, yanking back your hand. "God knows what could’ve happened if Sam and I were five seconds late?" Upon receiving a lack of response, you could only sigh at him.

"You're really fucking stubborn sometimes, Dean. It's enough to get you killed! Just like tonight. Do you understand what I'm telling you-"

He wishes he could listen to you. He really does. And it pains him that he's not, you deserve to be taken seriously. And every other day, he would let you talk his ear off. But he's a man, and a man has urges—he tells himself. Sometimes those urges blinds a man of his decision-making, and right now, he can't decide whether he should respect your wishes and listen to what you have to say, or,,, bend you over the table and just fuck that little attitude out of you.

And right now, option 2 sounds more to his liking.

He knows you've been feeling a little frustrated. Like when you started averting your face when he tried his advances on you. Or how you'd give him a hard (😉) time during hunting by 'accidentally' grazing your ass against his groin whenever passing by. Perhaps you guys have been a bit deprived of each other. The countless nights when Dean had woken up with a raging hard-on or fisted his cock to you, who slept soundlessly beside him. He knows you've also missed him. You and him are so alike. It's why he has such a fond over you. And it's how he knows why you're doing this.

"You can't just be running into the middle of a fight, you can get seriously hurt." You dab some more ointment around the wound, carefully avoiding the cut. A strong, secure hold around your waist prevents you from moving away, "You care about me a lot, don'cha." He smirks almost cockily. fucking prick.

"Go fuck yourself."

"Hm, but I think I'll enjoy fucking you more."

Your breath hitches in your throat when he stands up, his broad frame towering over you. Your hands push against his firm chest, "Wait, Dean. What if Sam-" He capture your lips into a heated kiss, swallowing your words. But he pulls away momentarily to whisper against your lips, "He won't."

.

"Fuck, Dean!" You could only moan his name when he's pushing several inches into your cunt, thumb rubbing short, but fast circles on your puffy clit to help you stretch around his girth. His groans were so low, yet so arousing. Your knuckles turn white as your grip on the table tightens.

He chuckles through his teeth, "Has my girl missed my cock?" He emphasizes with a sharp thrust that has you reeling.

"Yes! my god, yes.."

He finds this so amusing. "So much that you had to go and act like a slut?"

You nod mindlessly, body twitching as the head of his cock prods at the opening of your cervix. He pulls you up with a hand around your throat, your bare back pressed against his chest. "Words, baby." He grunts deep into your ear as he rolls his hips.

His thrusts were precise, slamming into that one spot repeatedly. "Fuck, yes!" You mewl, pupils blown out wide that it nearly covers your iris. Your head hung low, swaying back and forth, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

Next thing you know, you're laying on a mattress with your knees pushed up to your chest, eyes glued down to the sight of Dean's cock disappearing in between your glistening folds. "Fuckin' pussy's made to take my cock." He curses, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth.

"Fuck, you feel so-" He moans, hips stuttering against your ass, "you're gon' make me cum." It's almost too much for him to handle. Key word, almost. His head is spinning, like he's high off of you. You're addicting, why do you think he always wants to be inside you 24/7.

He feels you clamping down on him, a sensation that's all too familiar. "I can feel you squeezing me, princess. Why don't you come around my cock? Make a mess of yourself."

Just like that, your vision goes white as you succumb to your pleasure with a cry of Dean's name. And he follows immediately after you, spilling his seed all over your pretty cunt, painting it in white.

[thewulf]

For That Long? || Aragorn

Summary: Request -Hello! 👋 Your work is absolutely amazing! Especially your Aragorn fics (My King! 🗡️👑❤️) In fact, whenever works best for you, here’s an idea: During the victory celebration at Helm’s Deep, the reader (also a Dunedain Ranger) offers a quick dance lesson for Aragorn to a) enjoy the celebration with him and.... Read Rest Here

A/N: Thank you for the sweetest little request anon! I had too much fun writing this one. I love trying to get into his head. Keep sending amazing requests my way! And thank you for you kind comments!

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k +

TW: fluff?

“Not like that, Strider.” You giggled something fierce as he tripped over his own feet for the umpteenth time that night. Somehow you had convinced him to dance with you after quite literally decades of trying to get him as your partner.

“Have I not already told you how hopeless this is, Callia?” He asked you by your chosen Ranger name. You had to abandon Y/N when you left home all those years ago. If you were captured you must never give up your true name for your family could bear danger to your chosen work.

“You just need to relax yourself. Your mind.” You poked his forehead while grinning from ear to ear.

He sighed, “I cannot keep making a fool of myself in front of…”

You stopped him by placing his hand on your hip catching him most off guard, “My King overthinks.” You whispered as you took a soft step towards him. He smelled good. Like of the woody scent he naturally had but even better.

“I am no King.”

You smiled more to yourself than him, “Not yet. But the people have decided. It be but a mere month and you shall be.”

“It does not feel right hearing you call me that, my lady.” He countered while raising his eyebrows right up waiting for your retaliation.

Trying your best, but failing, you made a face in reaction, “You know I am hardly a lady.”

He hummed. Not even realizing you had begun to lead him you kept talking trying to rid his mind of the thoughts that plagued him. For if there was anybody who knew Strider better than himself it was you. Time had a way of making your heart the softest for him and truly only him. Countless sleepless nights of diving into your worst nightmares and trauma would find a way to bond the two seemingly hopeless souls.

“The opposite is true.” He smiled down at you with a look you had rarely seen from the hardened leader. You had been away from him longer than you wished. He had told you to go to Minas Tirith after getting orders from Gandalf to help the Hobbits of the Shire. You had heard the story of the great Bilbo Baggins and now apparently Strider had to accompany his nephew, Frodo. He had told you to go to Minas Tirith and wait for his word.

That had been six months ago. You had gotten used to life without him how odd it may seem. You had made a few friends that you probably never would have had Strider joined you. It was terribly uncomfortable. Your simple life changed when you had gotten word from him asking you to join him in Rohan. He knew something was coming and needed all the help he could get.

“A lady does not count her kills.” You spoke breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. A shift occurred as he had taken control of the dancing now. Your easy banter all but freeing his mind from his thoughts. Dancing wasn’t so bad. Especially if he got to hold you like this.

“By your definition.” He smirked down but dared not look into your eyes for he knew he would cave to any of your demands, “Not by mine. And did you not say I was to be King?”

You fought every urge in you not to pinch his side, “You are impossible.”

“Do you not refute, my lady?” His smirk only grew as he noticed your face fighting the urge to react. It was amusing watching you try and stay neutral. For he had missed this. Sure, it was not only the two of you dancing but it had felt like it. You had a way of taking his mind off of whatever he needed. You had always seemed to have known what he may have needed.

“It is no use in arguing with you, Aragorn.” You gave him the eye letting him know you were not over the little secret he had kept from you for so long. You had only found out of the name when Legolas shouted it on the battlefield almost costing you your life. It had left you stunned. Who was Aragorn and why had Strider reacted as if it was his name.

Because it was. He had apologized profusely before you finally gave in. Leading you to this moment with him. You had finally convinced him he needed to learn how to properly dance since he was to be the king. And lucky for him you so happened to know many dances as your mother had insisted a girl your age to learn them all those years ago in Dúnedain.

An amused smile crossed his features as he led you across the dance floor. Maybe he was not so pathetic after all, “It is not like you, Callia, to bite your tongue.”

“Hush you.” A laugh escaped you. It was no use trying to hide your own amusement. Yes, he pushed you, but it had also shown you how much he too cared for you.

He slowly stopped the two of you from your dance before replying, “You are most fortunate the music has ended."

A quick nod left you head as it spun out of control by his soft touch and daring words, “Most fortunate indeed.” Begrudgingly you took a step back knowing the moment between the two of you had ended.

But his words had stopped you from turning all the way around, “I will stop teasing you if you lead me in another dance. For I must learn. I do not wish to embarrass you.”

You only grinned before stepping back into his hands, “You could never embarrass me Strider.”

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you took in the breathtaking room before you. Stifling a laugh, you couldn’t truly believe you had made it here with him, alive and in one piece. Your truest and oldest friend crowned the King of Gondor. How you would never have believed this only three years prior. You watched as royalty and common people alike danced with joy and glee for their newfound leader. Aragorn. It felt the most surreal as you watched him mingle with people that mattered. A King. Who would’ve thought. Glancing down at your nearly empty glass you sighed knowing you had to make the walk back to get another drink.

But you never made it as you were intercepted by nonother the man you were watching far too often that night, “Strider!” You smiled trying to play it off as nothing as his broad hands covered the length of your forearm with ease, “You best get dancing. You have many eyes on you, my King.” You grinned with ease knowing calling him such made him uncomfortable. You truly had known him as Strider for as long as you could remember. You’d met as teenagers in your youth, kids from Dúnedain.

Your fathers were friends keeping you close together often until he went off on his own. When it came time to leave you had heard Strider was a Ranger. Having a feeling you’d run into him again you weren’t surprised you were assigned to his company not long after you left home to find a purpose. Just like him. In a lot of ways, you were the same. But in so many different.

For the last sixty or so years the two of you became something of a menace in the North. Something to be feared. Always working as a team, the two of you always seemed to come out of battles unscathed.

He grumbled in response to the title name you had used on him, “I have told you not to call me that. It does not feel right hearing those words from you. Strider will do.”

You smiled seeing how you managed to get under his skin with such ease, “Strider is too informal. May I call you Aragorn at least?”

“I think Strider is perfectly formal. But you may call me as you see fit. So long as it is not, my King.” He smiled right back at you. Even he had to admit how nice it was seeing you so at ease. He had roamed the North for nearly sixty years with you. He had never seen you so relaxed. He was sure he had seen you smiling more tonight than he had in the past sixty combined. You smiled like that bright eyed teenager who had an obvious crush on the older teen. It was times like these that made him wish he had told you how he had felt the same. He had longed for you for so long in silence. He had a duty to uphold. But now? Time was different. He needed somebody on his side. He had always known that somebody was you.

You bowed just knowing it would push his nerves further, “As my King wishes, I shall only refer to him as Aragorn.”

His mouth dropped at your brazenness, but he should have known better. He was convinced you were placed with him was to keep hm grounded. You had a certain way about you that had him acting his very best, “Y/N.” He let out an audible sigh letting you know he was annoyed.

“Strider.” You raised an eyebrow as if to challenge him knowing that name was now obsolete in your vocabulary. He was Aragorn now. You could get used to it.

He looked to the dance floor before turning back to you, “Would you join me in a dance?” He held his hand out for you to take giving you your favorite impatient face. It was your favorite thing to do after all, push his buttons.

Your smirk turned up into a genuine smile, “This is a pleasant change. I would be honored to join you in a dance, Aragorn.”

“Are you going to choose a name Callia?” He grumbled as you placed your hand in his. His smile never faltered even though he pretended to be most annoyed by you. It wasn’t lost on your how gently he wrapped his hand around yours before nodding his head to the nearly empty ballroom floor.

You giggled more to yourself knowing how annoyed he was with you. Maybe you should stop winding him up. It was almost too much fun to stop though, “Am I not allowed to interchange two of your many names?” You followed along his lead down to the center of the empty floor.

He stopped once he had found a place good enough. Placed one hand over your hip and one behind your back, “Hands on my shoulders.” His voice dropped nearly an octave as he gave you a simple order. A shiver ran down your side at his touch. This was new for you as well. Sure, you had found him ever so attractive, but he hadn’t the slightest interest in you. Everything was platonic as could be between the two of you. So, you had backed off and kept it cool knowing nothing was ever going to happen.

You did as he wished and wrapped your hands around his neck, far more intimate than you had intended but you were committed now. It would be almost more embarrassing to unwrap yourself from him, “You did not answer my question.” You spoke trying to rid your mind of overthinking this situation you had seemed to find yourself in.

He gave you a grin as his eyes trailed all over your face, “I was only playing with you. You may call me as you please.”

Before you could answer the music started forcing your concentration of following his lead. It was impressive how quickly he had picked up on the steps of the dances you had only taught him only a few times a month ago. It had been a little over a month after the Celebration of Helm’s Deep after the hell that was the battle.

You were almost upset when the music had stopped knowing his hands would soon leave you. It was not right to have these feelings for such a longtime friend. Let alone the King of Gondor. But how could you not? He was Strider the great Ranger of the North. He was Aragorn the leader of the Fellowship. He was the King of Gondor. He was everything.

Fortunate for you he hadn’t move his hands from your waist even as the music stopped, “I do think I should call you Aragorn. It suits your stature. You have outgrown Strider.”

He bowed his head before slowly bringing his eyes up to yours, “Then Aragorn I shall be, my lady.” He was smirking now knowing how much you too loathed the high title he had seemed to start calling you.

With a frustrated breath your eyes narrowed at his, “If you shall call me my lady, then I will call you my King.” You too didn’t enjoy how the high title rolled off his lips. You were anything but a lady even in the dress you protested but had been convinced of.

He let out a breathy chuckle as he finally came back to his senses and let his hands go of your waist. You feared to admit how much you had enjoyed his touch and closeness, “I suppose that is fair, Callia.”

Stepping forward to straighten his collar you could only smile up at him in adoration, “You look very handsome tonight. Who knew you cleaned up so well?”

He took your hand in his once more, “It took a fair bit of work. But I must say, it is you who shines the brightest tonight.”

He had never complimented you so forthright before it drew a small gasp out of your very own mouth, “You are most kind to me. Thank you Aragorn.” You were suddenly thankful you had put some makeup on. You were praying it was covering up the sure-fire pink tint that was bound to be covering your cheeks.

He watched as you turned away from him, “You must get back to your advisor. He looks very weary over in the corner.” You tried a good excuse to walk away from him. He was suddenly becoming too much even for you.

“Wait,” You stopped and turned back to him with that subtle blush coating your face. When you stopped he continued, “Come take a walk with me. I wish to talk with just you.” His darting eyes let you know people were listening, always listening in now that he had such a high title.

“As you wish.” You followed him as he left the hall as discretely as he could.

The two of you had made it all the way to the gardens before he had spoken once more, “I want to thank you, Y/N.” By speaking your true born name, you knew this was serious. There was no playfulness of my lady or the knowing name of Callie. Y/N.

You had no clue where this was coming from. Truly, you rattled your mind for further thoughts before you gave in, “Whatever for?”

He smiled as he led you down the path of roses he had grown fond of in his short time here, “For always being there for me. You have shown up for me time and time yet again.” He paused taking your hand in his before placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. Had he no idea what he was doing to you?

“You are my truest friend.” You answered honestly after a few long moments of trying your hardest not to cave into whatever was taking over your mind. He was your friend! Only a friend. That is all he had ever wanted. He was simply thanking you for the journey. That was all. One chapter of your lives had closed and the next was to begin. You had to wonder where you would end up. In the capital being a guard? Roaming the woodland realms for danger? Head home and care for your aging parents? The choices were endless for your new life.

He let out a short laugh, “For that you are. May I tell you something?”

“Anything.” The response was so automatic it almost took you by surprise.

“If not for you, I would not be here.” He spoke quickly.

It took you much longer to process those words, “What do you mean?”

“If I had not known you would always be there I would not be king.” He smiled as his eyes traced your nervous face. You were truly the most beautiful woman he had ever known. How had he gotten so lucky with you? And by any other stroke of luck, you would accept his next question that had been weighing heavily on his mind.

“I am not sure what you mean Aragorn.” Your heart rate sped up just a tad as he stepped back from you. He fished something out of his robe pocked. Your eyes went wide as he held an old relic. A beautiful ring covered in gemstones.

“You have always been there for me Y/N. I fear nobody could ever take that place. I wish nobody to take that place. For I am the happiest when I am with you. Those last six months have not been good for me. But now that I am back with you I feel whole once again. There is no lady that could take your place Y/N. For your place is next to me.” The last words to come out of his mouth almost came out as a whisper for even he was nervous. The mighty King of Gondor afraid of some feelings he had almost his entire life. Oh, how his father would be laughing now.

Your heart rate kicked it up another notch. It felt like you had been training it was racing so fast, “Forgive me, I fear I am not enough…”

He stopped you this time though by placing a gentle finger on your lips, “I wish to not hear you speak poorly of yourself. For I do not respect those words. I will never believe them. I do know your entirely Y/N. Please, do me the honor of letting me court you.”

Your breath had been taken from you now, “You like me?” You had managed to get out feeling oddly faint.

“I love you.” He said so effortlessly you weren’t sure you had him quite right.

Your eyes turned up to his as he stepped closer to you, “You love me?”

A quick nod came from his head as his eyes bore right into yours, “I do.”

“I love you, too.” You spoke back before you could let your thoughts get the better of you.

His hands moved to your cheeks as he held you in his own, “For nearly seventy years I have yearned to hear those words from your lips.”

“For that long?” You asked in bewilderment to his statement. How had he kept it from you with such ease? It amazed you he had managed to be so stoic when you had been so obvious. Why had he fought it for so long?

He did what you least expected and bowed down to you, slowly. He had made sure you knew his intention, “I may not have always been wise to it but indeed. I have always loved you.”

You nodded quickly, your smile beaming brighter than ever before. He was sure that was his new favorite look on you, “Yea.”

“Yea?” He asked you as confirmation.

“I accept. I would be honored to stand by your side Aragorn.” Before you could bow to him he caught your chin in his hand shaking his hand to let you know that would be most unnecessary.

“You are doing me the honor.” He fastened the necklace with the ring on your neck tucking it underneath the top of your dress. His hands trailed down your sides resting on your hip for longer than he should have. He needed to take a step back or he would kiss you. Not that you wouldn’t let him, no. He was sure you would be more than happy about it. He simply wanted to charm you before he kissed you. He would not rush into this with you. For he had taken nearly seventy years to admit how he had felt. What was a little longer?

“You made it, Strider. You did it.” You brushed his wavy hair away from his face knowing that would be the last time you referred to him as such. From here forth he would be Aragorn. And you would wed him. How a life you dreamed of had come to fruition was beyond you.

He shook his head grabbing at your hands once more, “We made it. We did it.” He spoke of all the wishes the two of you spoke about in your many long nights. The dreams had seemed to come truer than either of you could have imagined. It almost didn’t feel real.

You nodded with nothing but love in your eyes, “Indeed, we did it.”

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Ten

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : R for smut

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Just the usual smutty behaviour, some of it happening in a public place. There's also a very brief mention of a car crash but no details are given. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~4.7k

A/N : Billy is finally getting to take reader for dinner! So, yeah, that's kind of it. This is roughly the halfway point of the story, so thanks to everyone who's been reading and stuck with it this far, and thank you for all the lovely comments and feedback!! Also, OMG I hit 50 followers - I genuinely did not expect that to happen, thank you all so much!! 🥰

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE

Chapter Ten

You weren’t sure what to expect when Billy picked you up for dinner, but it certainly wasn’t a Rolls Royce (a Wraith to be more precise, as Billy enjoyed explaining to you when he caught you staring at the car). At least it wasn’t a bright red Ferrari, you supposed, but you couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable once you were sitting in the passenger seat. It was so expensive and perfectly cared for that you were scared you might do something to ruin it, like you weren’t even worthy of sitting in it.

Billy explained that it had been another impulse purchase, another big ticket item just because he could, because as a boy he’d always wanted a fancy car. Another expensive thing just to try and fill a void. You wondered how empty he must feel to need so many expensive and shiny things, but you didn’t dare ask.

In fact, you remained mostly quiet on the way to the restaurant, not wanting to distract Billy while he was driving. 

It wasn’t far, less than twenty minutes. He hadn’t told you where you were going, but once you saw the restaurant, you found yourself nervously playing with your sleeves. You’d never eaten there before, but you knew it by reputation; one of the best Italian restaurants in the state, and you had a good idea just how much it cost to eat there. Suddenly you felt underdressed in your black dress, suddenly you found yourself wishing he had taken you to Pizza Hut. 

Parking at the back of the parking lot, Billy killed the engine and, for a few seconds, you were too caught up in your own thoughts to realise that he wasn’t moving. 

His hands were still on the steering wheel, gripping it tight. It was something you were getting used to seeing; moments like this where Billy seemed to be fighting against himself, trying to hold himself back. You wondered if he was always like that, or if it was something he did because of you, because he was trying not to scare you. In the time you’d known him, you’d come to realise that Billy was a man of action, that he liked to do things without thinking and he didn't like to hold back when it came to certain urges - he’d called it poor impulse control, Krista had called it hypersexuality. You didn’t know what it was, but you liked to think he felt the same desperate neediness you felt whenever you were together.

“Billy,” you muttered softly, drawing his attention to you.

Your breath caught as he looked at you, his dark eyes flickering with a barely contained desire that had you wanting to crawl onto his lap. Clenching your thighs together, you tried not to think about all the things he could do to you, all the things you wanted him to do.

“We should go eat,” he finally managed, forcing an uneasy smile to his lips before getting out of the car. Before you could fully climb out of the Wraith, Billy was at your side, his hand extended to you. Of course, you took it and let him lead you into the restaurant, all the while smoothing down your dress, wanting to make sure you looked presentable enough to be seen with him. If Billy noticed, he managed to keep it to himself, he just gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as he opened the door for you.

You stayed quiet as you were led to a table - that Billy had somehow managed to reserve yesterday, despite how exclusive the restaurant was. His hand left yours so he could pull out your chair for you and, still, you didn’t speak. You didn’t know what to say about any of it.

When the menu was placed in front of you, you really started to feel uncomfortable; there were no prices listed but, judging from the sort of things on offer, none of it was within your price range.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, though it was clear from the look on his face that he had some idea what was going through your mind.

“Nothing, it’s just -” you gave an awkward sigh, “- this place is really fancy...”

“Order whatever you want, I’m paying.”

“Billy -”

“I know, I know, you don’t want my money, and I promise I’m not trying to buy you. I just really like eating here and I think, if you give it a chance, you’ll like it too.” His shoulder ticked. “Besides I can either spend my money having a good time with you, or I can waste it on something dumb.”

You managed a laugh at that and, despite how awkward it made you feel, Billy probably had a point; he had enough money that he probably wouldn’t ever miss what he spent tonight, and you could at least try to make sure that he wouldn’t be left feeling empty at the end of it. You relented with a sigh and a nod, dropping your eyes back to the menu, though you still tried to think about what would be cheapest.

In the end you settled on pasta, while Billy ordered steak. Without much in the way of conversation, he also took it upon himself to order a antipasto platter for the two of you to share - which, you might have briefly felt uncomfortable about, but seeing the way he lit up when the food started arrive seemed to reinforce his point that he liked eating there, and you didn’t want to do anything that might ruin that for him.

And, you had to admit, the food was very nice. So much so that you were content to eat in relative silence for a little while. From time to time, Billy would ask you what you thought of the food and if you the wine that he’d ordered was alright - and it was, you could already understand why the restaurant was so raved about - but there was something almost shy about the way he was being. And shy wasn’t a word you thought you’d ever use to describe Billy.

It wasn’t until your main course arrived that you really started to notice, wondering if Billy just preferred quiet when he was eating, or if it was you.  But, regardless of his silence, every time you happened to look up from your food, you’d find Billy staring at you. The first couple of times, he’d smile before returning his attention to his steak

But, finally, you had to ask; “what?”

“What?” He responded, looking up from his plate.

“You keep looking at me like - like that.” 

“Like what?” Still confused, though he managed to give a little huff of laughter.

“Like you’re barely holding yourself back.”

“From what?” He asked, shifting in his seat, sitting a little straighter and leaning back in his chair, like he thought the extra inch of space it created between you could save him. You could tell just by looking at him that there was something he wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut. Was what he was thinking really that bad or did he just think you didn’t want to hear it? (Did he think you couldn’t handle it?)

You decided to lean forward, destroying the distance he’d tried to create. If you were going to do this, you needed Billy to understand that he needed to talk, otherwise you’d overthink every little thing until you tore it all apart.

“Like there’s something you want but you’re fighting against it?” You tried to explain. “I saw it in the car earlier, and the night of the gala; you get this look like you need to do something but you’re scared to do it.” You watched his face, taking in every little flicker of discomfort as his eyes searched your face, trying to figure out just how much you could handle.

“I told you, I have poor impulse control,” his shoulder ticked upwards, “I’m trying to work on it, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Who told you that - that you have poor impulse control?” You asked, but Billy didn’t need to answer, you already had a pretty good idea. The flash of unease on his face said it all; Krista. Your expression instantly softened, and your heart ached for him. “Billy, I’m not worried and I don’t need you to protect me from you. You don’t need to hold back when you’re with me. If you’re scared something might be too much you can just ask.”

“Sweetheart,” he started softly, a warm smile on his lips, “if I didn’t hold back, we’d never leave my bed.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad to me,” you joked and Billy’s gaze seemed to darken with want again. 

As much as you wanted to get to the bottom of it, you knew that it wasn’t something you could figure out in one night. Clearly there were bigger issues at play and, in a restaurant, on your first date probably wasn’t the best place to have this sort of conversation.

Your attention returned to your food for a minute or so before you looked up again, catching him staring again.

“Did you sort the thing at Anvil yesterday?” You decided to ask. “The security problem?”

“Not yet,” he answered and fell silent again, attention returning to his dinner. But, after a few seconds, he seemed to realise that you genuinely wanted to talk to him and that his being silent wasn’t conducive to a good dinner date. “I think Frank’s just blowing things out of proportion, it’s probably nothing to worry about,” he shrugged, “we get people poking around a lot, it’s just the nature of the business.”

“Oh, well that’s good, I guess?” You smiled, wanting to show that you appreciated the effort he was making.

“How was your day?”

“It was okay. Work was kinda crazy, but things always start to get insane this time of year,” you shrugged, chewing your lip and thinking for a moment before adding; “but I, uh, got some good news?”

“What kind of good news?” He set his cutlery down and reached for his wine glass, attention completely on you.

“Well, I know this guy who runs a little gallery in Queens, he told me he’s got an opening in the new year and asked if I wanted to put on a show.” It made you nervous seeing the way that Billy practically lit up at the news. “I mean, I don’t know if I’ve got anything worth showing at the moment, but it was nice he asked...”

“You should do it, I’d love to come see some of your work.”

“I’ll be sure to put you on the guestlist,” you laughed despite the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach; the new year was months away and you weren't sure Billy would even still be in your life then. (But seeing him smile at you made you want to hope that he would be.)

“Do you make any money from your shows?”

“Some, but not a lot; mostly just from the door but sometimes people buy things.”

“How much is some? Ballpark figure?”

“Ballpark figure?” You laughed. “You’re such a businessman.”

Bill let out a laugh of his own, shaking his head.

“Sorry, force of habit. It’s hard to switch it off sometimes.”

“Well, I guess some people probably find it incredibly sexy.” You smiled, watching the smirk grow on his lips.

“Oh, some people, eh?”

“Yeah, y’know, the kind of people who get all hot and bothered over men in expensive suits who drive fancy cars and know how to get what they want?” You leaned forward a little more, trying you best to sound seductive, despite the ridiculous grin on your lips.

“Yeah? What about you? Does it get you all hot and bothered?” He smirked, falling right into your trap.

“Nah, I like men who wear jeans and drive Toyotas,” you started laughing, and the look on his face was priceless. As much as he might have wanted to feign upset at the comment, Billy couldn’t stop himself from letting out a ridiculous laugh, and it was the most joyful sound you’d managed to pull from him.

“You’re such a tease,” he took a drink, though his eyes stayed fixed on you.

“Don’t worry, Billy,” you reached for your own glass and took a long, slow drink, “I’m prepared to make an exception for you. What you lack in fashion sense, you make up for in other areas.”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” he prompted, a hint of impatience in his tone, like he needed to hear you say it.

“Well, you have a very talented tongue,” your cheeks started to warm but the ridiculous smile stayed plastered to your lips, “and you have quite a way with words. And you’re very hands on...”

“And you like that, do you?”

You decided not to answer him, instead you made a point of returning your attention to your food before it got cold. Billy’s eyes lingered on you for a few moments more before he did the same. The game wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot, but you needed some time to consider your next move.

After finishing your main course, you excused yourself, heading for the bathroom, as a terrible idea formed in your mind. You could practically feel Billy’s eyes on you as you walked away, and you could almost picture the look on his face as he did, that hungry glint in his eyes, the way his lips curled upwards ever so slightly whenever he stared at you. Especially tonight. Your silly games had gotten to him, but they’d gotten to you too, and it left you craving what would come next.

Standing in the bathroom stall, you took a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart but there was nothing for it. Now that you were doing this with Billy, now that you were finally willing to let him in, you were terrified in the most inexplicable way - it was scary how much you wanted him after so little time. But you did want him, and you wanted him to want you just as much.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you slipped out of your panties, trying not to think about the telling wet spot before balling them up in your hand. 

When you left the bathroom, your cheeks were burning; your free hand nervously smoothing down your dress, terrified that everyone would suddenly be able to tell that you weren’t wearing panties. Billy gave you a confused look as you approached the table, and it was almost enough to make you completely lose your nerve. You awkwardly offered your hand to him and quickly handed him the balled up red lace before retreating to your seat.

“What’s this for?” He asked, fighting back a grin, momentarily looking at the panties before shoving them into his pocket.

“They were getting wet,” you managed to answer, nervously biting your lips before adding; “they’re my favourite pair, I don’t want them to get ruined.”

“They’re my favourite pair now, sweetheart.” He smirked at you, a devious glint in his eyes. “If I’d known this was what you were doing, I would have followed you to the bathroom. I hate to think of your needy little pussy all wet and unfulfilled.”

“Billy -” cheeks burning, glancing around, hoping that no one could hear him.

He leaned closer, smiling softly as if the pair of you were exchanging romantic sweet nothings. You felt his ankle nudge yours beneath the table and your breath caught.

“What’s wrong? Am I making your tight little hole drip? Are you making a mess thinking about how my cock would feel inside you if I bent you over this table in front of all these people?” And, just like that, he’d turned the tables on you. You’d wanted to drive him crazy, but you’d underestimated him. He reached for you, his hand covering yours. 

“Is that what you’re thinking about?” You dared to ask in little more than a whisper, leaning closer.

“I’m thinking about crawling beneath the table and eating your sweet little pussy as my next course.”

You bit your lip again, thighs rubbing together beneath the table.

“I can’t wait to get you home.” He smirked, obviously noticing your discomfort and revelling in it.

“Does that mean we’re skipping dessert?” you asked, suddenly feeling breathless.

“No, I promised you dinner; it wouldn’t count if we skipped a course.” He kept smiling, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. “Your needy little pussy will just have to wait.” His smile got wider as you almost pouted. “Though, it's driving me crazy knowing how wet you’re gonna be when I get you out of here.

“Now who’s being a tease?” You squeezed his hand, giving away just how much he was getting to you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, did I ruin your plans?” He asked with an unapologetic smirk. “Was I supposed to get flustered or did you want me to drag you out of here and fuck you in the car?”

You dropped your gaze, cheeks burning, not really having an answer for him; you’d just wanted to make him feel as out of control as you did.

“I appreciate the effort though,” Billy continued, “I like knowing the effect that I have on you.”

Your lips parted, about to say - you weren’t even sure what, when you were interrupted by the waiter bringing your dessert.

You ate dessert slowly, your eyes fixed on Billy, knowing that once you were done eating the rest of the night would begin. You both remained calm and composed, as you finished your meals, and as Billy paid the check. You pulled on your coat and slowly let him lead you from the restaurant, but things quickly changed the moment you reached the parking lot. 

It was dark save for the flickering of a single street light, only two other cars remained but Billy had parked at the back of the lot, out of the way.

By the time you reached the Wraith, his hands were on your hips, turning you to face him as he pressed you back against his car. He kissed you, nipping at your lip before slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your fingers gripped his tie, holding him close, surrendering yourself to him.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he muttered against your lips, “you got me so fucking hard with that little stunt with your panties.”

“Good,” you answered, your hand slipping down his body to palm his erection through his pants.

“You keep that hand there and I’m not gonna be responsible for my actions, sweetheart.” Billy groaned.

“You should be more concerned with what I’m gonna do to you,” you smiled, your hand releasing his tie and gently pushing him backwards so you could drop to your knees in front of him. Your hands started to pull at the fastenings of his pants, pulling his hard cock through the zipper. Billy gave a groan as your fingers ran along his shaft, his own hand finding the roof of the Wraith for support.

He was barely breathing when you looked up at him. 

You took a deep breath before leaning forward, your hand still gripping his cock while your tongue slipped between your lips.

You felt him twitch as your tongue touched hot skin, heard him groan as you ran your tongue from root to tip, lapping the salty sweetness that had already leaked from him as your tongue swirled over his tip. Lips trailed hot kisses up and down his shaft, smiling as he swore under his breath, and loving the marks your lipstick left on his skin. 

You wet your lips with your tongue before finally taking him into your mouth, pulling an eager moan from him. He reached for you with his free hand, fingers fisted in your hair, gently guiding you up and down the length of him, while your fist pumped the base of him.

Billy was completely yours in that moment. With just your lips, you’d rendered him speechless, helpless, and hopeless. The feeling of power was intoxicating; the way he moaned and shuddered and swore made you want more. It made you want everything. Your cheeks hollowed against him, tongue working along every inch of him, your moans vibrating around him.

“That’s it. Look at me, sweetheart,” he grunted as your eyes found his, staring up at him through your lashes, and the look on his face had moaning even harder around him, “I wanna watch you suck my cock.”

His grip tightened, his chest heaving with every panted breath. He was getting closer and you didn’t want to stop. You took more of him, managing to sink lower and lower with the encouragement of his hand, earning more desperate moans from him. Eyes watered when he hit the back of your throat, but you didn’t stop, you barely even slowed. Tilting your head a little, he slipped into your throat and you felt his grip tighten, but just a fraction. Billy was barely managing to hold himself back, you could see it in his eyes, in the way he grit his teeth. You almost wanted to push him, make him lose control completely, but you didn’t want him to take over. You were in control of the moment and that was how you wanted it to stay.

You heard your name and the start of a gasped warning before his hips bucked and his cock started pulsing, filling your mouth. Despite trying to warn you, his grip on your hair didn’t loosen. You kept pumping his length with your fist, swallowing down everything he gave you, milking every last drop from him until it was too much for him to bear and he had to gently push you away. You dropped back against the Wraith, knees protesting and aching, licking his cum from your lips, feeling very proud of yourself.

“Fuck,” he muttered, breathless as he forced his cock back into his pants and offered you his hand. 

Your knees ached from the gravel as you stood back up, but once you were up, Billy’s arm was around you, supporting you, holding you against him.

“Did you enjoy that?” You asked quietly, almost shyly, as if there was any chance someone else might overhear. 

“Sweetheart, I think I just about lost my goddamn mind,” he smiled, lightly pressing his lips to yours before reaching around you to open the car door for you. “I’m gonna show you just how much when I get you home.”

Your shaky legs just about managed to get you into the car, and Billy shut the door behind you. While he made his way around to the driver's side, you checked yourself in the mirror, and found your lipstick smeared around your mouth. As Billy climbed into the Wraith he shot you a very smug look before handing you his handkerchief. He started the car while you did your best to fix your makeup.

There was a relative silence for a while, and you were content to just look out the window at the New York City lights. You didn’t talk, again, not wanting to distract Billy. But it felt like there was something in the air between you, a tension, a longing for things to come.

He glanced your way a couple of times before his hand found your thigh, causing you to tense suddenly. The hand was quickly pulled back and the car was very quickly filled with a different kind of tension.

“What’s wrong?” He dared to ask, his attention fixed on you more than the road, and that just made things worse.

“Watch the road, please...” you awkwardly pleaded and, to his credit, Billy did as you asked.

An awkward silence filled the air for the next few minutes; he didn’t dare look at you so he didn’t see the way you were awkwardly pulling at the sleeves of your jacket, your eyes fixed on the road just beyond the windscreen. He didn’t look again until he hit a red light and the car had come to a complete stop.

“What did I do?” He asked.

You didn’t want to tell him, you weren’t ready to share that part of your life with him, but you’d agreed, hadn’t you? You’d told him that you’d stop pushing, that you’d tell him if he fucked up. And he had fucked up, just not in a way he could have anticipated.

“Nothing,” you answered quietly, “It’s not you. I - I was in an accident and, now, being in cars makes me nervous sometimes.”

“Is that how -” he didn’t finish the question, he didn’t have to. He put it together, at least part of it. Your scars had come from a car crash. “Shit, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t know. I should’ve warned you.”

Whether out of respect to your anxiety at being in the car or just because he didn’t have anything else to say, Billy stayed mostly quiet the rest of the way back to his apartment, save for asking you if you were alright a couple of times and if you were warm enough. It was more than enough time to get over the awkwardness of Billy knowing a little bit more about you and, by the time the car was parked, you were ready to put it all behind you and continue the rest of the night with him.

He took your hand in his as he led you from the car to the elevator, your bag slung over his shoulder and holding you extra tight - you weren’t sure if it was meant as a reassurance or a sign that his patience was wearing thin. Either way, you squeezed his hand in return. His other hand, you soon noticed, was in his pocket along with your balled up panties. 

You found that familiar look on his face once you were in the elevator. He didn’t look at you, he didn’t dare, you just kept squeezing his hand, silently telling him that you were there, that everything was alright. The elevator dinged when it reached the penthouse and everything quickly became a blur.

By the time the elevator door had closed behind you, Billy had you against the wall, your legs around his hips and the bag with your things abandoned somewhere on the floor. His hands awkwardly tugged open his pants, dropping them to the floor before, thrusting his cock into your wetness. You cried out, straining around him, wet but not entirely ready, your fingers curling in his hair. He didn’t give you time to adjust or get used to him before he started to fuck you, roughly laying claim to you.

“This is what you get for trying to play games with me, sweetheart,” he all but growled against your lips. All you could think was that if this was the sort of punishment you’d get for playing games and trying to rile him up, then you’d have to do it more often.

Your head dropped back against the wall, moaning and completely at his mercy, losing yourself with every snap of his hips.

There was no holding back the inevitable and, soon enough, you were moaning his name as you came undone, and Billy soon followed suit. He kept you against the wall, his weight holding you in place as he came inside you, still moving until he’d completely emptied himself, leaving you feeling oddly triumphant. 

“See?” You panted, smiling widely. “I like your poor impulse control.”

His hand moved, gripping your jaw loosely with his fingers, looking at you like he was trying to make sense of something incomprehensible. You held his gaze, wanting him to see that you wouldn’t waiver, that you wouldn’t shy away from this side of him. Then he kissed you, softly, reassuringly, telling you a thousand things he didn’t have the words to say aloud to you.

He lingered against your lips as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him not because he was still inside you, but simply because you wanted to hold him. (How many people had just held him, you wondered.) Your fingers ran through his hair and you smiled against his lips. When he pulled back again, he still had that look, like he just didn’t understand. But you didn’t ask; it wasn’t your place to tell him how to feel, you just hoped he’d figure it out eventually.

Without a word, he lowered you and, once your feet were back on the floor, he was pulling you towards the bedroom so he could spend the rest of the night keeping you from sleep.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

END NOTES : So, yeah this is about the halfway point with what I have planned (I've got about 20 chapters planned, unless any get too long and need breaking up) but now that reader and Billy are in a nice place with their relationship, it's time to turn up the angst. There might be some more triggering stuff coming up in the next part, so please check the warnings! Next part should be up same time next week.

As ever, thanks so much for reading!! I know I say this every time but I'm honestly just overwhelmed with the likes/comments/reblogs/follows, it really does mean so much to me! (I have no idea how many of you are real and how many are bots, but you're all great - if you're not a bot drop an emoji in the comments idk)

If you want adding/removing from the tag list let me know (if it's not working for some reason... I honestly have no idea how to fix that but I hope it is working??)

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley @slayerofthevampire @rensolodriver @lovelydoveval @doloreschanal @uncontainedsmiles @damagelove @danzer8705 @unlikelystarlightcowboy @schlotzshewrote

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I want it to be known that every time I finish one of these, I let out the most gremlin, 'heeheeeheeheehee' you could possibly imagine.

Why don't we start off with a different POV? Find out what a certain monkey has been up to?

Dove Masterlist:

Storm

That little menace has Sun Wukong at his wit’s end.

The Monkey King flies east atop his cloud, with nothing to do but fume over this new obstacle as he makes his way to his destination. Sure, maybe he could have said something to the others about the disguised demon they found dangling from the tree. Maybe taking care of that brat quicker would have been the better solution, but the sage didn’t want to kill the demon outright and risk a painful headache in case his master didn’t give him a chance to explain. Still, the risk of that might have been worth it, seeing as that little imp took both his master and Dove. It irritated him, how the kid stuck to her like that.

Wukong and his brothers were lucky enough to meet some of the gods of the mountain, they were more than willing to tell them about Red Boy and where he lived. It’d be a lie to say the Monkey King wasn’t surprised to hear the boy is the son of his bond-brother, the Bull Demon King, he doesn’t remember his old friend living anywhere near here. If he gets the chance, he’ll have some words to share about his nuisance of a son.

He would have beaten that child easily if it were not for his obnoxious little trick. Just as Wukong was about to land a blow, the boy began to punch his own face! As if that wasn’t off-putting enough, fire began to shoot out of his face. The fire wouldn’t have bothered the sage all that much, but before it could even touch him, the smoke it emitted completely obscured his vision. He couldn’t find the entrance to the cave amidst the heavy fumes, much less the brat who went in for some cheap shots with his lance. Nephew or not, Wukong cannot wait to get his hands on that little terror.

The Bull Demon King really ought to teach that kid some respect, what was he even talking about? Evil urges?! The gall, ugh! What a– why would he–ugh! What does that boy take him for?! He has no clue what he’s talking about. That kid is the one who wants to eat them, he’s the one with evil urges! Wukong only wanted to protect his friends, it’s not that he wanted Dove to himself. What a ridiculous accusation!  How else is he meant to react when any of those idiots find themselves in danger?!

The king can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Damn, that comment really got to him. Why did the boy's words irritate him so much? Looking down at the terrain below as he rushes towards the ocean, he can’t help but sigh. He’d rather feel this annoyance, this irritation than what has really been prodding at his chest.  Every time Tripitaka has been kidnapped, he’s known he would get him back. Sure, there've been brief lapses of doubt, but they only ever lasted so briefly; the time he was blinded, or when those demon brothers trapped him under all those mountains. But whenever he had those moments of doubt, she was there to snap him out of it.

He hates the worry that has been building in his chest. She was right there, he nearly had her… close enough to feel her slip out of his grasp. Ugh, it’s infuriating!

At least after his fight with Red Boy, Sandy came up with the idea to ask Ao Guang for help. If that kid’s fire is the one thing that stopped them, then certainly the Eastern Dragon King will be able to help them extinguish those flames. It was strange, the boy’s fire. Despite not taking any of the flames head-on, Wukong could have sworn he felt their heat. It didn’t feel like any fire he’s ever been near. The heat… it almost hurt.

Perhaps he’s just overthinking this, there’s a lot of things he’s been feeling lately that make no sense to him. Besides, fire has never hurt before, not since gaining his immortality. No fire can truly burn him, not celestial nor earthly, he had to have imagined it.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. What is important now is getting the aid of Ao Guang so that he can save his master and Dove. Wukong can only hope those two can last on their own until he comes with reinforcements.

…Who is he kidding, he can almost see Dove fighting with every tooth and nail to get the monk and herself out of that cave.

~~~~

“You see, what I’m doing is focusing on your energy and giving you some of my own.” You kneel in front of Red Boy in that same room your burn was wrapped in. You hold the boy’s face in your hands gently, focused on taking care of his black eye.

The demon child is silent, leaning a bit into your healing hands while his attention stays entirely on you. “A little bit is enough to give you a little peace of mind, and if I need to, I can use some more to heal physical injuries.” Once you finish, you stand back to take a look at his face. It looks as though it was never injured in the first place.

You rise to your feet a bit too fast and take an unbalanced step back. You sway a bit, lightheaded but otherwise fine. Usually, you only use your gift like this in more dire circumstances, and you’re used to it taking more out of you than just this.

Still, Red Boy is quick to take your hand and guide you to sit down. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I just need a moment.” You reassure him, sitting back with a bit of a sigh. “Your injuries were pretty mild, but maybe you can restrain from punching yourself in the face anymore, alright?”

The boy quietly nods, frowning with this inquisitive look. “Is this why you said you couldn’t do it until your arm got better?” He asks with a hum.

You look away with a slight chuckle. “Ehh, that may have been an exaggeration. But generally, it’s easier for me to heal if my body isn’t busy trying to fix itself.”

Red Boy nods in understanding, his head tilting a bit in curiosity. “Well, if healing other people tires you out too much, can you take other people’s energy to make yourself better?”

“I, uh…” You hesitate, the question is a little uncomfortable. “…in theory, yes. That would involve putting another person at risk, though, so I wouldn’t even think of using it like that.” The idea of using the gift Guan Yin gave you to help people in such a way made your skin crawl, you wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

The boy’s brows furrow. “Why not? Father taught me that all my abilities have a use.” He argues, taking a seat next to you. “ I think that draining your enemies of their life would make things much easier for you and your monk friend.”

His reasoning makes you shake your head. “The easy way is not always the best route. Besides, I only fight to protect, and I can do that with my own strength and wit.” You smile, though your words are met with a disbelieving look.

“Do you really believe that?” He deadpans, apparently quite doubtful.

“I do.” You cross your arms, refusing to drop your smile.

Red Boy rolls his eyes with a scoff. “I think that’s nonsense. If you can make things easier for yourself, you should do it! The Samadhi Fire makes everything easier for me.”

“Really?” You hum, raising a brow to give him your own look of doubt. A fire you make when you punch yourself in the face doesn’t seem like the most practical power.

The boy’s eyes light up. “I’m not the best with my lance, but it doesn’t matter when I can just burn all my enemies to a crisp!” He looks down to his hands as he speaks, a mischievous grin crossing his face.

You frown for a moment, a little confused by his excitement. “I thought you said it’s difficult to control?”

“Oh, it is. Sometimes it just comes out when I get too mad.” He admits, glancing away as he rambles. “When I summon it, the fire just comes out of my face really fast– like my eyes and my mouth and stuff. I can’t really see where I’m shooting it, but as long as it hits whoever I’m fighting, it doesn’t really matter.”

“What if you’re fighting with an ally at your side? Or what if someone gets caught in the crossfire?” You question, which makes the boy look back at you for a moment. He goes to speak, but stumbles on his response before stopping himself.

You turn a bit to face the kid more. “I know the easy path feels– well, easy– but you should still work on controlling that fire of yours.”

Red Boy frowns, turning to look away from you with a grumble. “I know… it’s part of why Mother and Father sent me out here.” Oh?

He’s mentioned his parents a few times, but their lack of presence has definitely left you with questions. “They sent you here to learn how to control the Samadhi Fire?” You ask, leaning over a bit to see the troubled look on his face.

“I think I set a few too many fires at home. If I get too mad, it’s hard to stop the fire.” He confesses, bringing his knees close to his chest. “Plus, things are awkward right now and I don’t think they want me around.”

That makes you frown, why would he think that? You put a hand on his shoulder. “What makes you say that?”

Red Boy keeps his eyes wandering the room, his voice a bit annoyed. “Father left to live with some other woman, and Mother isn’t very happy about it.” He explains. “She said something about how Father forgot his manners and gave into his evil urges, like all men do.”

Oh. Oh, wow. That poor woman, this poor kid. “Mother said I could stay here for now so I can focus on training and getting better at controlling the Samadhi Fire, but I’m already good at that!” He pouts, looking back at you with an offended frown. “Yeah, I’m not really great, but I can control it enough!”

Wow, that was more than you were expecting. “Maybe so, but there is no such thing as too much practice. I am sure your mother would appreciate you keeping up with your training.” You offer him a small smile, it’s hard not to sympathise with the boy.

“Yeah, I know.” He groans, letting out a huff before resting his arms over his tucked knees.

“Make sure the next time you see her, she can see all the progress you’ve made.” You suggest. “I’m sure that would lift her spirits to see some improvement.”

Red Boy looks back at you, his brows furrowing at your words, thinking them over before cracking a little smile. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Mother would like that.”

His response warms your heart a little. From how he’s spoken before, it’s clear he cares deeply for both his parents and what they think. It’s unfair to him to be in a situation like this, away from the both of them.

With a sigh, your gaze trails up to the ceiling. “You know, I never knew my own mother. She passed away when I was an infant, but my father was able to care for me. If I remember correctly, he had many duties in our village, but he mostly worked as a physician.”

“So being a healer runs in your family?” Red Boy hums, the question making you chuckle a bit.

You haven’t thought of it like that before. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

The boy hums, seemingly content as you lift a hand to massage your temple. You’re still feeling a bit light-headed, but you shouldn’t take too much longer. Part of you feels bad leaving the kid now, but your first priority is Tripitaka, and with your side of the deal done, there’s nothing stopping you from going back. You’ve already spent enough time here, but maybe you could check in on the boy after the journey is complete.

“I should be on my way now, Red Boy.” You sigh, glancing over to see the boy's look of disappointment.

Red Boy pouts a little. “Aw, already?”

“The others are still waiting for me.” You remind him. “I’ve spent enough time stalling our journey, and I still don’t know where Sun Wukong went off to.”

You go to stand, though you’re still a little shaky on your feet. Red Boy follows you to stand as well. “Are you sure? You still look drained.” He holds your arm to help steady yourself, the gesture sweet.

It’s funny to think he’s the same boy that wanted to eat Tripitaka and egged on Wukong. “It’s alright, I can rest properly once I’ve reunited with my friends.” You smile as he walks you to the cave opening, still holding onto your arm to help you. It’s like you’re an elderly woman he volunteered to assist.

When you get to the cave opening, you’re surprised to find the sun is nearly gone. Only a small trace of light remains in the west. It’s nearly night, did you really spend so long in the cave? It might be harder to find the others under the cover of night, but not impossible.

You step away from Red Boy, but he quickly tightens his hold on your arm. “The sun has set, you can’t go now!”

“They’re probably worried for me, Red Boy, I have to go.” You offer an apologetic look with a shrug, but he refuses to give in.

“But how will you find them in the dark? All the wild animals hunt at this time, it isn’t safe for you to wander through the mountain on your own.” He reasons, not giving you a chance to argue as he continues. “A-And you’re tired, too! Please, Miss, just stay here for another night? You said you would feel better after you rested, right? Mother would say a gentleman should never send a woman off on her own at night.”

You’re a little taken aback by his insistence, though you find his offer and reasoning cute. “I can even get you a fancy pillow, if you prefer to sleep as a dove!”

That gets you to laugh a bit. “It sounds like you’re being overly-sweet to get me to stay the night.”

“…Is it working?”

You shake your head in amusement, letting out a tired huff before looking out to the sky again. You’ve maybe got a half hour before the little light that’s left sinks into the horizon. With how far the flight was before, and with how tired you are now, you doubt you’d find them in time.

It wouldn’t be the end of the world if you rest here for the night, right? You have your weapons with you now, which definitely makes staying in a demon-filled cave feel a bit safer. You doubt Red Boy would have his demons do anything, and you can leave first thing in the morning. An insulated cave to protect from the wind is also a much nicer option compared to sleeping on the mountain in the open.

With a bit of a dramatic sigh, you look back at Red Boy. “Alright, I suppose I could stay the night.”

At your acceptance, the boy practically beams with excitement. “Great! Come, I can show you where the guest rooms are.” He drags you back in with a big smile, and you stumble a few times just to keep his pace as he runs through the halls. “My mother has some clothes she leaves here for when she visits, you can borrow her sleepwear if you want. I don’t think she’ll mind.”

Red Boy takes you to a nicely furnished bedroom before leaving you to rest. The minute your head makes contact with the pillow, your eyes begin to droop. It really has been a long day, as if getting pulled into a wind storm wasn’t exciting enough this morning. At least it’s all resolved now.

You’ll rest, wake up early, and find your friends. Hopefully Sun Wukong will be with them by then. Ha, to think the peach-loving sage was so concerned about you carrying Red Boy. It was a little rocky at first, but the kid isn’t so bad. He ended up being surprisingly sweet. You wish you could do more for him, he would definitely benefit from having someone around that wasn’t one of his soldiers. Someone to re-enforce those better habits of his and show him how not to do things like… well, like eating people.

As you drift off to sleep, you smile to yourself. You’re glad to have met the kid, but you can’t wait to see your friends in the morning…

.

.

.

.

.

.

You wake to the crack of thunder.

You jolt up in bed, your heart racing from the sudden wake-up call. Several thumping footsteps can be heard outside your room, people shouting to one another in a panic as more thunder rumbles from somewhere outside. You’re not sure what time it is, but however long you slept has you feeling more energised now. But maybe it’s more than just your well-needed rest doing that.

The noise outside puts you on high alert, and you quickly jump out of bed to see what’s going on. When you exit your room, you’re nearly trampled by a horde of demons running through the corridors, handing off weapons to one another and fixing their armour.

More thunder echoes through the cave as you manoeuvre around them in an attempt to get outside. It sounds like there’s an intense storm, but yesterday had been nothing but clear skies! You make it to the cave opening, only to nearly be blinded by a flash of lightning.

The sounds of metal clashing and angry shouts are almost entirely drowned out by the storm overhead. Rain pours down over the scorched land around the cave, soldiers in scaled armour meet Red Boy’s army with steel, there’s fire everywhere you look. What is happening?! That scaled armour… is this one of the dragon kings? Why would one of their armies be here? What is going on?!

There’s so much rain, the stream that ran down the mountain by the cave has grown into rushing rapids. Even in the heavy downpour of the storm, the fires only grow, as though the water fuelled them more than the air around them.

All that fire– where is Red Boy?! You run out of the cave, scanning for the boy before hearing a shout from above. Overtop the mountain, the vicious cloud of smoke shoots out an unending spiral of fire.

Acting quick, you begin to rush up the mountain to get closer to the boy, switching between avian and human form to avoid flying arrows and spears, Flying up steeper parts of the mountainside while running where you can. You nearly slip a few times, the rain leaving you drenched and the ground a slippery mess.

As you get closer, you finally see him. It isn’t Red Boy you spot, but Sun Wukong jumping out of the smoky fumes atop his own cloud. He’s breathing heavily, his staff held securely in his grasp as he narrows his eyes at the fire that shoots out from the smoke.

“Wukong!” You call out to him, the monkey demon immediately freezing when he hears your voice. His head whips down to where you stand, and in an instant he is at your side.

He  tucks his staff into his ear before wrapping you in an embrace. The demon lets out a heavy sigh as you feel his arms wrap around you, one holding you by the back of your head. “Thank goodness you’re alright, I thought I might’ve taken too long.” He mumbles into your shoulder before lifting his head up to face you. The worry on his face is almost palpable, and you feel something pull at your chest.

You hate to see when he gets so worried. “Where’s Master? I need to get the two of you out of here.” His hands drop down to yours as he looks out over the two armies.

“He’s not here.” You frown, and Wukong looks back at you in confusion. “I got him out yesterday, he’s with Pigsy and Sandy. I was going to leave in the morning– where have you been?!”

“I went to find help dealing with the demon brat after our last fight.” He explains, his brows furrowed. “Sandy thought of using water to put out his flames, but…” The two of you look out to the battlefield. All the fire Red Boy is creating is only spreading, reaching farther and farther out.

Red Boy screams, and you look up to see the spiral of fire growing larger as it shoots wildly through the air. Your eyes widen in realisation, the boy’s words echoing in your head. “He can’t stop it.”

You take dove form, taking off before you’re caught by your foot. “Where are you going?!” Wukong gives you a look of exasperation, his hold preventing you from going any further.

He lets go as you turn back. “I need to calm him down! At this rate, he’ll kill everyone beneath him!” You explain, throwing your arm up to gesture to the boy.

“You think I’m letting you near that thing?!” Wukong steps closer, taking your shoulders in his hands. His tail lashes out, reflecting his anger as you shoot him a glare.

What does he think he’s talking about? Let you? “I’m not asking for your permission! Wherever the others are, there’s nowhere they’ll be able to hide if his fire burns down the mountain!”

The Great Sage returns your glare, but you refuse to give into the look. You won’t argue with him on this, not when all these people could get hurt, not when that kid needs help.

His nose scrunches for a moment before grumbling something under his breath. He looks away and summons his cloud, letting go of your shoulders. “You’re the most stubborn woman I know.”

“I’m well aware.” You nod before returning to avian form, the two of you flying up to the boy as his fire blazes across the battlefield.

The closer you get, the more the two of you have to duck and weave to avoid being hit by the flames. It’s near-impossible to predict where he shoots it next, sometimes the fire flickering out before coming back even greater than before and accompanied by the boy’s cries.

You look for an opening. If it weren’t for the thick cover of smoke, you might be able to figure out how to grab the boy. You dodge out of the path of the spiral again, finding an opportunity as it moves away, and you make your move.

As swift as you can, you dive for the smoke. Your vision quickly becomes obscured, the fumes heavy and thick. You can barely breathe, but you can’t stop here. You listen out for Red Boy, following his voice to navigate through the smoke.

 “Dove, look out!” Just as you’re about to reach him, you hear Wukong hurtling towards you. You’re about to grab the kid, there’s no time to look back before you hear Sun Wukong scream. You crash into Red Boy, he’s hot to the touch, like blood boiling beneath the surface of his skin.

You use your gift to soothe him while whipping around to look for your friend. Where did he go?! That scream– he must have been hit. But he’s the Monkey King, how could it have hurt him like that? Where is he?!

As the boy calms, the fire begins to dissipate. The smoke clears and the two of you begin to fall out of the sky and towards the rushing water below. You turn back, holding the now unconscious Red Boy in your arms as you search the sky for Sun Wukong. “Wukong!” What happened? Where is he? Why can’t you see him?! “Wukong!”

The fires across the battlefield extinguish all at once, and through the downpour you finally spot his limp form– just for a moment before he crashes into the water rapids. Wukong vanishes beneath the waves and you prepare to go in after him, turning your back towards the water to shield Red Boy before making contact with it. You slam into the water, plunging down before getting pushed downstream. You fight to surface, holding Red Boy and your own head above water.

With the boy in your hold, it’s a struggle to stay afloat in the rapids, but you do your best to scan the waters for your friend. “Wukong! Wukong, wh–” You can barely speak, the water choking your speech as your head goes under.

Once you reach the surface again, you start to push yourself to the riverbank and back towards the cave. You see Red Boy’s men falling back, all rushing to get back into the cave while you inch closer to land. By the time you reach the edge of the water, you’re hardly able to pull Red Boy onto land.

Your head swivels to and fro, searching for any signs of your friend as you run back to the cave. Red Boy begins to come to as you make it up the steps of his home, coughing up water while you're swept into the horde of demons rushing to get back inside. Arrows fire with lightning tight on their heels, and in the chaos you’re pushed inside.

Red Boy looks around in a worried panic, and seeing that he’s conscious, you set him down on his feet. “Are you alright?” You ask, the boy nodding hesitantly, confused. “Stay here, okay?” You don’t give him the chance to respond, your heartbeat echoing in your ears so loudly you couldn’t even hear him if he did say anything.

That scream– how hurt is he? Did he surface after he fell into the water? You run out to the lip of the cave, pushing past soldiers to try and get a better look. Where is he, dammit, where is he?!

“Wukong! Sun Wukong!” You call out, your throat scratching in pain. There’s nothing, not even a body floating downstream, where could he be? 

Bolts of lightning strike at the cave, but you refuse to move. You’ve never seen him go limp before, did he lose consciousness? Surely he would have resurfaced by now if he was conscious, right? What if he can’t? Can he drown?! Sandy and Pigsy usually take care of any demons underwater, dammit! What happened to him?!

He’s been hit by fire before, he should have been fine! No, what if the rapids pushed him further downstream? What if he’s at the bottom of the river? You have to move, now!

You move to run out when another lightning bolt strikes, this time hitting the cave just overhead and breaking off chunks of rock that come crashing down. They fall just at your feet, and you step back to avoid them. You look up in time to see more following, just barely giving you the time to jump back and avoid being crushed. You slip on the wet stone floor, falling back and scooting away as more of the entrance caves in.

By the time it stops, the only source of light in the surrounding area are the torches that are posted on the walls. The thunder begins to quiet, but your heart refuses to slow as the reality of the situation sinks in. “No… no!” You jump to your feet and throw yourself at the rubble blocking the entrance.

You begin to dig at the blockage, your mind racing with worry. Wukong, he’s hurt! You can’t be stuck in here, he’s– how is it even possible for fire to hurt him?! Forty-nine days in the Trigram Furnace did nothing to him– not even the Jade Emperor could kill him with fire, how is this any different? He might still be in the river, he can’t drown, there’s no way– but you thought there was no way he could get burned!

You fall to your knees, your mind racking with different questions and thoughts on what just happened– what you have to do. What can you do? Before you can spiral any further, Red Boy steps up to you. His eyes are watering, wide and scared. “I– I’m sorry.” His voice is shaking, barely even able to get the words out.

“I was trying to stop, I was trying to! I tried closing my eyes b-but it hurt– it just wasn’t stopping!” Tears run down his face, and the trembling boy is enough to ground you for a moment. You pull the child into your arms as he sobs. “I wasn’t trying to hurt anybody, I promise! They just attacked! I didn’t mean to use it, I swear!”

“It’s okay…” You mumble to the boy as you hold him close, rubbing his back in comfort. You can’t believe your own words, but it’s all you can think to say to him in the moment. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Sun Wukong, please be okay.

[imagine-shenanigans]

I've got severe brain worms from @391780 's fic Into Your Veins, and now I'm thinking of all the different scenarios where the 141 are also monsters in the apocalypse. like. obsessively. Also fat/chubby reader because mmmmmm yaes <3

Also this is basically just rambles and ranting over ideas for like, however long this got i didnt actually check teehee

We already have vampire simon so I won't touch on that because that is Specifically Their Brain Worms but I can't stop laughing every single time over the sunflower seeds incident (and every other similar one).

//

Soap as a werewolf is soooooo funny to me. Like he's constantly in this battle of "Don't swallow don't swallow don't swallow" whenever he rips a zombie in half with his teeth in wolf form and then confusion as to why people would think he's possibly infected. "Wdym I'm infected I'm just a little guy. I'm so cute. I wouldn't ever do anything. Smiles." He can't cover distance like Ghost or Gaz can, and sure he doesn't have the same authority that Price does, but he's a damn good soldier, and he's got some of the most sheer brute force on the team. So when Price tells him to start scouting in an area for survivors, he does! He's very thorough, combs over the area with a precision that would make most soldiers weep with jealousy.

He ends up scenting reader before he sees them, watches their little house from a distance. He's not patient like Simon, but he does watch reader for awhile, watches them surviving, all on their own in this little plot of land. Ends up watching your plush hips sway as you set out the laundry to dry. He's mesmerized, as he watches the sweat drip down your skin while you reinforce a few of your traps, go over the house with a fine toothed comb. You can't see him in the shadows, but by god is he seeing you. (And your ass - god he can't stop staring.)

He's not nearly patient enough to wait, so he waltzes right up, thinking his charming smile and accent is enough to win him some brownie points. He's halfway through a pickup line, maybe, when you level a shotgun at his face, completely unamused.

He's in love.

You refuse to go with him, but Price gave him orders and there's no WAY he's letting you go, not after he's seen your thighs and imagined himself using them as earmuffs. Not after he's thinking of a cute domestic life, providing for you like a good mate, and look at how precious you are, threatening him and -

and you shoot him.

Right in the chest, and thank god for the fact that it takes more than a few bullets to kill him because he's tearing through his skin in an instant, bones cracking and sinew melding as he quickly drops into his wolf form (which, jesus christ he's fucking HUGE) to help ease some of the pain and kickstart his healing process. He snarls right in your face and snaps your damn gun in half with his teeth before he tells you he'll be back in a week. (later, he feels bad, certainly, but only for frightening you)

You freak out, because JESUS CHRIST WEREWOLVES ARE REAL TOO????

Johnny's back in a week as promised, after spending a few days in bed and eating anything he could get his hands on all while gushing about the pretty little soft thing he's bringing back. He even goes out of his way to bring you a gift!!! He hunts down a deer on the way through the woods near your home, bringing dinner so he can butcher it and you can cook it because of course he's bringing you back for practical reasons but if he's going to court you no you don't need to know that.

You're gone when he comes to the home, every last item packed away and shoved into the back of the car he'd seen you drive. He's furious that his hard work will go to waste, so he helps himself to the rest of what you've got in the house and decides to store everything away for when he's on his way back to base. Fights his urge to track you down only for long enough to be practical, and then he's on the hunt.

It doesn't take him long to find you - he can run faster than your car can go cautiously while trying not to attract attention from a horde of zombies, and even though he's living he doesn't attract the same attention from the freaks that you do in a car with a gun. He tracks you down in no time flat, smiling as he taps on your window where you're parked inconspicuously to catch a few minutes of sleep.

When you scream, he laughs and waves, threatens with one clawed hand to slash the tires if you don't come out. Practicality wins in this case, and he has a long talk with you about coming back with him. He's sure he's just about convinced you when you slap him, throwing something at him that has him howling in white-hot pain. He can hear your apologies through sobs as you push him and he tangles with whatever you've thrown at him, trying to get it off in a blind panic, and you've driven off before he can stop you.

When he finally has a moment to breathe, the damn thing off of him, he realizes you'd tied together a small net of necklace chains - silver. necklace chains.

He's as angry as he as endeared, really. It's a game now, of fetch, of tag, he's not sure - he just ends up changing pace, gently herds you back in the direction of the base like a cattle dog. You're furious when he finally pops your tires when you're a good two days away from the base, just hefts you up on a shoulder and pats your ass while he walks with you. He's so smug about it too, and by all accounts, he's won your hand in marriage by finding you, whether or not you agree yet.

//

Now, I'm not as familiar with Gaz as I'd like to be (because I got introduced with Ghoap stuff for my entry into the fandom) so please pardon if my characterization is off but I do love him dearly and eat up all content I end up seeing of him.

I'm slightly biased with Gaz being a harpy because I just love the idea of him being a bird of prey like a peregrine falcon (and i think its bluegiragi who has the monster au of him as a harpy?) or a shifter of some sort like a panther or a cheetah (i'm biased towards cheetah actually, because I love the pictures/videos of cheetahs getting emotional support golden retrievers).

Since my idea for this isn't EITHER of those options, please consider reader putting spike traps on the roof for a bird Gaz like stores put up on their signs. He gets real angry about it for a couple days and then figures out exactly how/where to land so he can perch on your roof anyway, scaring the shit out of you when he's just sitting there, chin in his hands, with a shit eating grin when you go to make sure everything's alright on the roof.

Anyway, for this I'm actually thinking fae Gaz - he's been living amongst humans for as long as he can really remember. He's not a changeling, but his mum was fae and she loved his dad. He's visited the fae realm once or twice (and, as convincing as his mum is when he visits her, he nearly forgets about the time dissonance every single visit - none are as bad as the first time, when he had no clue about it, and ended up being gone for fifty years.)

He's sent to greet you when Ghost majestically fails, and Cap'n doesn't quite want to set Soap loose on the poor reader (yet). Ends up falling in love with how clever you are, soft hands slipping into gloves as you pile leaves over the thin nets over the punji pits and bear traps. He's military trained across multiple decades, he's seen all kinds of war (even though he's still relatively young in comparison - he stopped physically aging somewhere in his twenties, but he's barely been alive for like, fifty years) and he's seen all kinds of tricks.

He watches you pour over old books that you've either scavenged or already had, learning how to make simple, but effective traps. The older types of traps are such a clever idea when combined with new ones. The type doesn't matter much to zombies, but the combination of different types will keep humans (and others) on their guard.

He really really really intends to talk to you, instead of lingering in the shadows like a creep.

You end up seeing him, and through sheer luck (or wit, Gaz isn't honestly sure) when he asks that you give him your name, you say; "Give me your name first."

He's stuck at that one, because Gaz has spent years talking around subjects but this pretty little human just points a shotgun at him and demands his attention. He can't even think to talk around the reason he's there when he changes the subject awkwardly, and you insist on his name.

He can't give you his name, his power, not even his nickname, so it ends with him awkwardly leaving.

He's the absolute butt of the joke when he gets back to base after slipping into the trees (so embarrassed that he doesn't take the time to make sure you can't see him do it) and goes straight back to base utilizing a mushroom circle and the sheer willpower to not get distracted as he slips between realms. Makes a week long trek into an hour's worth of walking.

When he returns, he knocks politely, eyeing the newly replaced doorknob.

When he touches it, out of curiosity, he's gobsmacked to find out you've either found a new knob, or cast the old one in cold iron. He touches it three full times in complete disbelief, watches the skin on his hands grow irritated and blister.

You smirk when you open the door, make some shitty joke that he's pretty sure is a twilight reference that would make Ghost furious, and then you tell him you figured it out pretty quickly.

In comparison to Ghost and Soap, his romance is altogether extremely easy - he just keeps visiting every single day, calls you a nickname when you won't give him an actual answer.

He admires your caution, and falls just a little more in love when you call him something stupid like mushroom man.

In the end, what ends up convincing reader, I think, is that he fully gives them his name. It's akin to a proposal, and Gaz isn't quite sure how he feels when you don't realize it as you roll his name - Kyle Garrick on your tongue, testing it. You ask if you can keep calling him Mushie Man and some other stupid nickname and he laughs, presses a kiss to your temple for it. Says it's only fitting, and whispers your full name like a prayer.

He lets you stay in your home a little longer, as long as you need really, laces a misdirection hex into the branches that'll really only work on humans. He comes by every day, no matter what.

When you finally agree, he grabs your face and kisses you like you've given him the sun and stars and hung the moon just to illuminate his way.

//

For Price, I'm going to say dragon price because mmmm hot. Anyway I like to think it's a little bit of everything.

Ghost is the first - you find out really quickly that he fucking hates the counting trick you pull, so you're sure to carry a pocket full of something small just to piss him off if he gets too close. When you don't make eye contact (whether intentional or because you hate it) he's absolutely bewildered that this Soft Little Thing in the woods has so effectively blocked him from getting his job done initially that when he complains to Price, he puts his foot down. Says if Price thinks is so funny, he should send Johnny or Gaz out, see if they can do better.

And Price, sides hurting from laughing so much, agrees to make it Soap's problem next.

Soap returns, a net-like burn across his forearm from where you'd thrown tied together necklace chains at him. He's pissed, whines and moans for hours about how bad it hurts, and Price just snorts and tells him Shouldn't have tried to drag them out, then.

When intimidation and brute force don't work, Price lets Gaz have a go at it.

The man is practically radiating smugness as he goes to win, and Price is crying with laughter when Gaz comes back, his hands blistered and pride bruised. He clears his throat and says I think ah, I think they've just gone ahead and put every guard on the house they can think of. He does not tell anyone that the human ended up catching him in a net for half an hour afterwards, chiding him for the full thirty minutes about trying to open someone's door without asking.

(But Price knows.)

He ends up saying he's going to go deal with it himself to "Show them how it's done."

Really though, he's absolutely smitten with the idea of you. He knows that, given the time and will, his boys would absolutely bring you back - but he doesn't want that anymore. He has to see for himself the cute soft little human in the woods that's managed to catch all three of his best soldiers off guard because all three of them underestimated you.

He can't very well let anyone on base know (especially the civilians) what he is, so he waits until the dead of night to start flying - only does so when he's well past the point of being seen, even if it means he has to fly in his hybrid form, which is a little awkward when he doesn't do it as often.

He's a perfect gentleman when he walks up to your home at daybreak, letting his form go back to human.

He avoids every trap, tripwire, and camera that Simon and Johnny and Kyle had all warned him about so you don't have to spend your precious time and energy fixing them. He knocks on the door and waits until you open it, introduces himself as Captain John Price, love.

Apologies for the heavy handed attempts of his men as he stands on your doorstep. When you slam the door in his face he simply sighs and knocks again. And again, and again, until you finally relent and open the door back up.

He smiles, and asks if he can come in - you say no, and he smiles.

Love, if I wanted to I could push past you, I'm asking to be polite.

You freeze at that, trying to think, trying to evaluate. You're clever, he thinks with a pleased hum, half lidded eyes staring down at you. You sigh, and relent, finally - knowing that whatever battle that you'd be fighting uphill could at least be done over the breakfast you were starting to cook, and you didn't want to waste it.

Something twinges in John's chest as he sits at the table, and decides, like the rotten, greedy bastard he knows he is, that you're his. And not his like the rest of the people he's got, but his. You'll be his, no matter how long it takes him.

He lets you cook in silence, enjoying the mundane domesticity of it all, tucks into the plate of food gratefully, and feels like he's home.

After breakfast, John takes the time to ask you questions. About your past, about your hobbies outside of survival, how many things you've got that'll be coming with. When you remind him you haven't agreed, he chuckles and smooths a hand over your hair and reminds you that he hasn't asked.

You finally ask him what he is, and he blows a mote of smoke at you, watches the realization hit you before you go blank. A fucking dragon? You ask.

A fucking dragon, he responds.

John is extremely amused when you tell him to wait on the doorstep, and you go upstairs for something. When you come back down, you hand him a box full of jewelry (he almost laughs when he notices the amount of silver chains missing.)

He hands you the box back and curls a finger beneath your chin, calls you a silly girl/boy/pet and tells you that not all the stories are true. In this case, they are, of course- but he doesn't need to tell you that he hoards people, not things. That his hoard is every single person on base - doesn't tell you that his most treasured parts of his hoard are the three strong men who work directly with him, that he intends to keep them for as long as he lives, which will still be a damn long time coming, even if he's been around since before the middle ages.

You'll be his favorite of all though, he thinks.

He gives you a week, but tells you that his boys will keep an eye on you, make sure you're still there every day until he personally comes to escort you home. When you remind him, stubbornly, you are home, he laughs, and presses a kiss to your forehead while you stand there, bewildered.

In between that moment, and when you get back to base with him, I can't decide if its better if he ends up singlehandedly destroying a small horde of zombies with fire breath as the pits you've got full of traps fill up, or if it's better if he shows up with a box truck and a few men and they all end up moving you out of the house without asking. Maybe it's a mix of both - you decide!

But regardless, it ends exactly as he wants - you, tucked up into his lap as he reads reports and issues orders. He skips the dating and goes straight into being your husband - makes some sort of quip about being far too old (fashioned) to entertain the thought and goes straight to being married like "it used to be." Even though for a dragon he's still kinda young, hasn't even hit his comparative forties yet, actually. Even though it doesn't really matter, because as far as he's aware dragons don't die of old age so much as they die of other factors beyond their control. It's why he's so carefully cultivated his life towards survival thus far.

John lets you do whatever you want to keep you busy, the only real stipulation is that you come home to him at the end of the day. He's even quite respectful, really. He never touches you without your consent, aside from placing soft kisses on your temple or forehead, or cuddling up to you in your shared bed. (Which you say you only entertain because he's warm, and there's no heating in his room. But really, you love it when he holds you, and lets you hold him with no questions asked, all under the pretense of being half-asleep.)

He acts like he has all the time in the world for you to come around - and he does.

You'll be awfully sore later when you realize he's bound your life to his, even angrier when your teeth adjust and you can start seeing better. He'll pretend not to notice the changes at first to see what you think, and then he'll help you through all of them, cooing and sighing and rubbing into sore muscles as you learn how to control changing into your half-dragon form. Maybe in a couple hundred years you'll figure out how to fully transform into a dragon - maybe not.

[fujii-draws]

I feel like Aimilios would also have his own little ‘resentment period’ towards Dusknoir when he returns years later. But not in the same way Ribbon’s secretly berates and spits venom when Celebi/Grovyle have their backs turned.

Aimilios’s aura sensing was the biggest double-edged sword for the riolu. Not only because of how he was able to tell when Dusknoir was lying, and turning a blind eye, but also how the aura pup was able to tell when he was being genuine. When he was enjoying his time in the present with them, even as ‘The Great Dusknoir’. When he consistently fretted over him and Ribbons. When he laughed with them while ordering drinks from Spinda’s. When he held back during training sessions—

When he held back during their fight at the temple.

Aimilios… knew for the longest time. That Dusknoir was pulling his punches, but never spoke a word of it to Ribbons. This only led to the fighting-type dealing with the haunting realization that the Gripper Pokémon could have done away with them so easily. Every time they were alone. When he trained them. When Aimilios felt vulnerable enough to sleep near him.

He could’ve killed them at any given moment.

So when he suggests that they talk alone on the beach. (The very same one he gave the Riolu false hope to of being ‘friends’, lying to his face.) Aimilios brokenly asks in the most hushed tone of voice why he stayed close. Even as Aimilios’s instincts, tell him, urge him, to run from Dusknoir. He silences the desperate pleas from his jittery body. Forcing himself to stay long enough to get the answer he wants— needs.

The answer to why. Why Dusknoir could have easily avoided them once he knew who Ribbons was. Or why he even indulged in them. Why he protected them as vigilantly as he did, if they were only a means to an end. Why he looked astonished whenever the small fighting-type showcased his sharp wit towards the elder ghost. Why he told Aimilios how proud he was whenever he landed a hit during their training. Why Dusknoir looked genuinely upset whenever he patched up his wounds.

Why Dusknoir listened to all of his small retellings of his journey with Ribbons with endearment. Why Dusknoir held him closer when he accidentally fell asleep on the gargantuan wraith. Why he held his paw whenever they traversed Treasure town together. Why Aimilios felt like his life was over staring down the Wood Gecko with his blood stained claws— before Dusknoir saved him. Why the wraith was the one who even bothered healing him, when the fatal wounds from Grovyle could have just—

Just. why why why— it would’ve made hating him so much easier if he didn’t do all of that. Aimilios would be just as resentful as Ribbons— but he isn’t. Because the smallest, desperatest part of him still missed Dusknoir. (And an even smaller part hoped he felt the same.)

So, he begs Dusknoir, to be honest with him. For once in his life.

And when he fails to respond in time (due to Aimilios sounding like he’s on the verge of tears. Unable to find the right words to not break the dam—)

“Aimilios, I—“

“You should’ve let Grovyle finish me off in the Azelf’s lake.”

Dusknoir eye only widens. Unable to look in the Riolu’s direction in fear of seeing his torn face. Yet his eye betrays him when it slowly trails towards the Aura Pokémon. Who’s already facing away— black, mittened paws covering the mess of tears spilling from his eyes.

“It—“ The aura pup’s breath hitches “I-It would’ve hurt less than this.”

[honey-minded-hivemind]

In a regular X-Men Evolution AU, imagine Sabretooth adopting one random teen out of the blue. Why was he interested in this random teen? Maybe they were an experiment, or were taken by scientists. Either way, the Acolytes and Brotherhood and X-Men want them, and if he can possibly annoy his boss and steal a kid from his brother and possibly lure him to him, then sure, let him try his hand at parenting.

And he ends up with some feral-*ss kid, who keeps curling up in the corner like a scared kitten, yet they have sharp claws and teeth. Reader could be smaller than Logan or almost as big as Victor, but they're a feisty, ferocious little creature. And Sabretooth? He thinks he's in (platonic) love for the second time in his life (the first time was with Logan, his baby brother). Finally! A kid who has every drop of ferocity and danger that he and Wolverine have! A worthy heir, and someone to take care of and love on...

Reader keeps trying to run from this absolute behemoth of a guy who possibly saved them? Only to kidnap them and take them with him. And he won't leave them alone. He keeps trying to fight them, keeps chasing them through the woods, and whenever Reader sneaks away, he hunts them down and drags them back, drugging them if they don't calm down enough.

And he doesn't give up on them. He keeps trying to tame them to accept him, but he keeps doing things that are just weird for someone who wants to use them. He IS using them, right? Or plans to? Whenever they fight, he'll drop after a good bit, then lets Reader have a minute ... Then he's back up again, edging them to fight once more... He keeps bringing food, even urges them to hunt, and keeps the bones from any creature they successfully kill. He even shares his own food... Then he keeps trying to get them to sleep. The moment they've gone forty-eight hours without sleep is the moment he's forcing medicine in their mouth or injecting them, and no matter what it is, it leaves Reader in a tired, sleepy heap, until they eventually are pulled into a deep slumber...

Reader isn't sure how much of this they can resist. This guy is weird, scary, and knows way too much about how to kill people... But he keeps being nice? In his own strange, creepy way. So now Reader hopes they can hold out a bit longer, until they can either run far enough, or find someone who can get them out...

(Reader likely has a surprised reaction to soft beds and comfortable rooms and good, warm food. Sabretooth keeps trying to feed then a bit of everything if he cooks, to feed this starved kid and to see their cute reaction to tasty, good food... It also gives him a chance to drug them, if need be. Can't have his kid running off after dinner, they'll get too cold and he doesn't want a repeat of when they first ran off into the snow...)