#I have his ghost form not really aging or aging very slowly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

python333 · 10 months ago

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soft spot — python333

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synopsis you've been having a bad day, and ghost feels like being extra nice to you. plot twist you're an age regressor and him being so nice is NOT helping.

relationships platonic agere cg!ghost & gn little!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 6.7k.

warnings a victorious reference, age regressor reader, usage of c/n [call sign/code name], 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself]

note please feel free to attack me as much as you want if this is inaccurate. i don't even care if it's not constructive criticism. i am begging for everyone's thoughts and opinions on this!! this is also the longest oneshot i think i've ever written!

“Having fun there?”

You turn in your seat and find Ghost leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and one eye slightly wider than the other—an indication that his eyebrow is raised.

“Not really,” You answer, setting down your gun. You’d been disassembling it, trying to take your mind off of the slowly growing headache that’s been building up for the past few hours. You don’t think it’s a migraine or anything, but it still bothers you greatly.

“Yeah, no, I can tell,” Ghost chuckles, pushing himself off of the door frame and walking over to you. He eyes your gun for a moment, the magazine already removed as well as any live rounds left in the rifle ejected, and the bolt locked to the rear. You were only maybe a quarter of the way through your disassembly, even though you started around thirty minutes ago.

For some reason, you woke up upset today. You were too tired, you felt awfully sluggish, and there was a throbbing pain clustered in the back of your eyebrows. So, in short—you were reasonably very upset. It showed visibly in the way your eyes twitched every so often, and in the way you felt the need to pinch the bridge of your nose to distract you from the pain that was still building up behind your brows.

“What’s going on?” He asks, leaning on the table.

“I have this headache that won’t go away,” You respond, sighing as you move your gaze from your gun to Ghost. You can barely see it, but from his eyes you can tell that his face scrunches up beneath his mask. He knows a thing or two about bad headaches, being someone who frequently gets migraines himself.

“Have you taken any meds for it?” You shake your head ‘no’. Ghost holds up a single finger in a ‘one moment’ motion and rummages through the pockets on his tactical vest for a moment, before he pulls out a small bottle of ibuprofen no bigger than his palm. He hands it to you.

“Here.” You blink at it for a moment.

“Thanks,” You take the bottle gingerly and Ghost nods, watching you as you struggle with the child-proof lid for a second before getting it open. You shake out a small tablet, one the size of a low-dosage aspirin, and pop it into your mouth. You don’t have much of an issue dry-swallowing it, and it only takes one attempt before you successfully swallow the tablet.

“You’ve been feeling pretty bad this whole week, haven’t you?” Ghost frowns underneath his mask.

You think for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, I guess. I think it’s mostly just stress.”

You know it’s not just stress.

For a while now, you’ve used something called ‘age regression’ as a form of stress relief. You don’t know exactly when it started, but you do know that it was before you were recruited for the 141. And originally, you made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t regress while on base, and you kept that promise for maybe a month before you broke it.

You think it was Ghost that was the trigger, actually. You can vividly remember the first time you regressed while on base; you had just finished talking to Ghost, and he called you something—you think he called you something similar to ‘kid’—that made a flip in your mind switch immediately. You can remember excusing yourself from the conversation quickly, leaving your lieutenant slightly confused but otherwise unbothered by the strange action.

And, worst of all, you can remember being in your quarters and practically burrowing under your blankets. You were curled up into a fetal position, trying to fight the urge to suck on your thumb or at least chew on something, but ultimately lost the fight and succumbed to your urges. You spent maybe a few hours like that, wide awake when you just wanted to try and sleep it away, thinking about that interaction you had with Ghost over and over again.

You’re not stupid. You know that Ghost has some sort of soft spot for you—albeit, you don’t know exactly how soft that soft spot is, but it’s definitely soft. Soft enough that he goes the tiniest bit easier on you compared to other recruits, soft enough that he spares you more time than he does for others, and the most obvious of all—he initiates most of your conversations.

Contrary to popular belief, he’s not the scary super-soldier most people think of him as. Sure, maybe he is kind of scary, and maybe his mask does jumpscare you when you’re doing missions in particularly dark spaces sometimes, but other than that he’s not scary in the slightest. If anything, he’s awkward. Awkward enough that he’s almost never the first person to talk to someone—except for you, of course. You don’t know why he acts so differently around you, but you don’t complain about it.

“That’s rough,” Ghost looks down at you with concerned, empathetic eyes, “Sorry you’re so stressed. Mind me askin’ why?”

“I don’t, but I also don’t know why I’m so stressed,” You huff out, even though you know the answer completely. You stand up, “I think it’s just me being sleep deprived. I’ve been having the tiniest bit of trouble falling asleep lately.”

“You should’ve told me earlier,” Ghost tuts, “I have melatonin.”

You give him a confused look. “You do?”

“‘Course I do.”

You blink at him for a moment before sighing, “Could I have some then?”

“What’s the magic word?” You give him an unimpressed look, ignoring the way the words make your stomach twist, and his eyes crinkle in a way that lets you know that he’s grinning under his mask.

“Could I please have some melatonin?”

“The magic word was lotion, but I’ll let it slide,” Ghost hums, “There’s some in my office. I’ll grab it for you later.”

“M’kay,” You look over at the door, unintentionally zoning out as you do. Your vision goes unfocused as the throbbing pain behind your eyebrows grows and something else grows inside of you.

Jesus. Why can’t you choose any other time to get the urge to slip into a younger mentality? Why does your headache have to make everything worse for you? Why does Ghost have to be so nice and helpful?

“Hey,” Ghost frowns, tapping a finger on your shoulder to snap you out of whatever trance you’re in, “[c/n]?”

Oh God.

Your eyes—that you try desperately to keep neutral—meet Ghost’s, his eyes soft and his eyebrows dipped downwards in a confused manner. His eyes are searching, flitting over you, trying to find something. The way he looks at you makes you want to squirm, and you can’t help but just slightly shuffle in place.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, voice as concerned as his look. That should be the breaking point for you, but you remain as big as you can be, and nod affirmatively.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You try to assure him, hoping you don’t sound as nervous as you feel, “I think I’m just a little tired.”

Ghost doesn’t look convinced.

He puts a hand on your shoulder, the act like a hammer putting another dent in the wall you had put up. The leather of his glove is warm even through the thick material of your shirt, and it feels like hot metal against your cold skin, the clothing covering your shoulder be damned.

“You can tell me if you’re not okay,” He tells you—what is he doing? Does he know something I don’t?—while his thumb starts rubbing circles into your shoulder, “I feel like you’re more than a little tired.”

You stay silent for a little bit. You don’t know how to explain yourself, the words seeming to liquify and leak right out of you, making you speechless. He seems to notice this, sighing and letting his hand slip down to your hand, holding it and giving it a quick squeeze.

“I think,” He looks around for a moment before turning back to you, “that we should head to my office so that nobody can bother us, and then you can tell me all about how you’re feeling right now. Does that sound okay?”

You nod wordlessly, not trusting yourself to talk with how heavy your tongue feels, and you let Ghost lead you back to his office. It’s only a hallway away, but that’s still enough time to overthink everything that could possibly happen. How does he know something’s wrong? What gave it away? Did I do something bad? What did I do? Wh—

The creak of his office door opening snaps you out of your thoughts, and Ghost steps aside to let you enter his office first. Hesitantly, you take a few steps inside, and you hear the door click shut behind you as Ghost walks in. He takes your hand again, making you look at him as he guides you to a chair.

You sit in the chair that’s in front of his desk, and he quickly drags out the chair that’s behind it so that it’s right next to yours. He sits down.

He’s looking at you expectantly.

“Uh.” You’re not sure what to say. He’s looking at you so reassuringly, it’s hard to keep yourself sitting upright.

“I know something’s wrong,” Ghost says, leaning forward the tiniest bit, “I need you to tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.”

He’s got to have at least some idea of what you’re experiencing, You think, trying to form some sort of explanation, He’s being so… weird?

You swear there’s some other word you could use, but your vocabulary feels so limited, and you would mentally curse if you could because you know that now your explanation is gonna sound weird. You can’t use the words you want, you’re gonna be forced to use simple words, ones that can’t convey exactly how you feel. Words that—and it physically pained you to admit this—were childish.

You can explain your situation. Just, now it would be more… blunt. And short. And also you’d feel like killing yourself afterwards. You won’t, obviously, but you can predict that you’ll come very close to doing so.

Okay, I have to say something because Ghost is looking more and more worried the longer I stay silent.

“I feel…” You trail off for a moment, trying to get your thoughts in order for the next two seconds to actually say something that makes sense, before continuing in a far less confident tone, “… small.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you regret it. Ew. Ew. Ew. What. Why? Why that word? It leaves a sour taste on your tongue and yet you can’t think of any other word that would better suit how you feel. Still. Ew.

Your thoughts are a jumbled mess ranging from fleeting thoughts of disgust to thoughts lodged in the back of your mind begging you to go anywhere else just so that you can stop having to have this conversation. This conversation requires words bigger than you have access to, and a sort of control over yourself that you can’t grasp. You can feel your hands twitching, wanting something to hold onto, anything to keep you distracted from the overwhelming urge to just regress.

Ghost blinks. He didn’t expect that answer.

“Small?” He repeats in a questioning tone, eyebrows furrowed, “I mean, compared to me, I guess you’re kind of short—”

“No, no, not like short small,” You try to clarify, feeling just slightly discouraged by Ghost’s confused words, “Like…”

You struggle to find the words that properly describe how you feel, only finding words like small and little in your current vocabulary. Your findings are making you increasingly upset, and you can feel your face start to grow hot with frustration and embarrassment.

Oh my God.

“Like…?” Ghost nudges your knee with his, trying to encourage you to talk, “I’m not leaving until you tell me.”

There’s still a level of care in his words, no matter how confused he seems, and that adds all the more struggle to your predicament. Not only do you not want to tell him, but you can’t describe how you feel in a way that’s acceptable for someone your age to describe anything. At least, not in a way that you deem acceptable for yourself to describe anything.

You’re far too old to be describing yourself as small.

“[c/n]?” Ghost nudges you again, and you blink at him. Your eyes are flickering all over his mask, going anywhere but his eyes, since eye contact with anyone would make everything significantly worse for you right now.

“It’s just—” You try to take a deep breath but your breath hitches. Everything is starting to make you feel so frustrated, and you’re starting to think that you might just throw a tantrum if you can’t do at least one thing right. You try to find the words you want to use but your throat is disobediently closing on you. Your mind feels like straight mush, and the quickly softening look that Ghost is giving you isn’t helping you at all.

To your horror, in your inexplicable inability to talk in the way you normally do, you let out a small whine. It sounds obnoxious to your ears, and worst of all, sounds like something a little kid would do.

You put your head in your hands, the quickly reddening skin of your cheeks getting cooled by the cold of your palms as you try and hide your face from Ghost. You can picture how he looks right now—somehow more confused than earlier, possibly annoyed, weirded out—and all those mental images make you bite your tongue to prevent another noise.

“What was that?” You don’t answer him.

To your non-answer, Ghost sighs, and you think, This is it, this is where he kicks me out of his office, oh my God I’m gonna get dishonorably discharged and he’s gonna give me a really mean look on my way out—

“Look at me.” You shake your head negatively.

“Why not?” He sounds so confused, it makes you want to cry. There’s still a level of worry in his voice, and it adds to the fog that builds up in your brain.

You move your face just slightly up so that your eyes peek out from above your fingertips, your hands covering the rest of your face. Ghost reaches out both of his hands, and ever so gently removes your hands from your face, uncovering your red cheeks and your lips—the lower of which quivers, like you’re about to cry. He notices this quickly, and you can practically feel the level of his worry shoot up.

He doesn’t say anything, instead just holding your hands in his for a moment, before he sets them down into your lap. He looks at you, concerned, and asks, “Is it hard to talk right now?”

You nod. His gaze shifts to his computer, and then back to you.

“I’m gonna go look a few things up really quick, okay? I’ll just be right over there,” He nods over to the space behind his computer, “and I’ll be right back here in a few seconds.”

You reluctantly nod again, and Ghost gets up from his seat. He grabs the back of the chair and drags it back around behind his desk, sitting down in it and powering on his monitor. It turns on almost immediately, much to his relief, and he goes to his browser and searches up a few things. You can’t tell what he’s searching up, only hearing the clacking of keys and the occasional final click that indicates that he’s hit the enter button.

He stays there for maybe a minute or two. It’s a long few minutes, and you can feel yourself slipping more and more the longer he stays at his computer. And the more you feel yourself slipping into that younger mindset, the more you start to crave Ghost’s attention.

The way his eyes are glued to his computer starts to irritate you. You’re aware that he’s doing something important, he must be, because why would he be so intent on looking something up otherwise, but still—you manage to feel the tiniest bit jealous of the computer. You know you’re too far gone when you can’t find it within yourself to realize that you’re jealous of a computer.

Your eyes linger on him and he must notice this because he looks up from the screen of his monitor and looks over at you. As if he can read your mind, he reassures you, “Just a few more seconds.”

But you said you were gonna be back in a few seconds a few minutes ago.

You don’t voice your thoughts. Instead, you nod, because God forbid you annoy Ghost with your need for attention now when he’s being so patient with you. He looks at you for another moment before going back to his computer and looking something else up, this time with a little more fervor.

Another few seconds pass and, true to his word this time, Ghost stops and gets up from his chair. He walks over to you, and your eyes follow him intently. He kneels down in front of you.

He looks hesitant to say something to you. That’s a first. That adds to the exponentially growing blob of fear that lives inside your mind, one of the only things that’s still prominent in the fog that conquers your brain.

“Are you…” You feel like you know what he’s gonna ask you. You’re bracing yourself for the question, and he looks like he’s bracing himself just to ask it.

“How, uh,” He’s trying to find the right wording, and you’ve never been able to relate to him harder than you do in this moment, “How… do you feel right now? How old?”

How old? You don’t really like that question. As much as you like that you’re now getting attention, you’re starting to remember how little you actually enjoy this type of attention. The question is pretty vague, but at the same time so specific, and you’re almost ashamed to know exactly what the answer is. Or, at least, you would feel ashamed if there was room in your mind to feel so.

“You said you feel small, right? Not like short small, just small?” He sounds more unsure of himself now, and you don’t think you like seeing him so reluctant to say something, “I looked up what it means to feel like that. Took some time, but I got to some person’s… website, and the person who wrote it was talkin’ about feeling like that. Something about regression, feeling a little bit younger than usual?”

He’s being so awkward about it, and while you typically find his awkwardness funny, now it’s anything but that.

“Uhm,” Your voice comes out as a mumble and you see Ghost perk up at it. You don’t know what to say. For a moment, you’re silent again, before you get over your embarrassment for a quick two seconds and force yourself to say, “Four.”

“Four?” Ghost asks, before quickly realizing, “Right. Four. You feel four?”

You nod, and your hands instinctively start moving back up to cover your face. Ghost swiftly grabs them, keeping his grip gentle as he keeps them from reaching your face.

“Hey, don’t try to hide again,” He says, tone softening as he holds your hands, “everything’s fine, okay? Do you— what, uh— do you need me to do anything? Do you want me to leave you alo—”

“No!” You quickly answer, a little surprised by your own volume, before you clear your throat and answer in a much more quiet voice, “Don’t leave me alone.”

“Okay, okay,” Ghost’s thumbs rub across the back of your hands, a soothing gesture that makes you the tiniest bit more relaxed, “what do you need?”

You sniffle, and you can see an immediate look of panic cross Ghost’s eyes. You don’t know how well he is with crying children, and don’t want to impose such a situation on him, but you also can’t stop the tears that begin to well up in the corners of your eyes.

“Hey, don’t cry,” He borderline begs, “everything’s gonna be okay, okay? Please do not cry. Take a deep breath.”

You try to take a deep breath, you really do, but your breath just hitches and gets caught in your throat. It only makes you more distressed, adding to the urge you have to just disappear. Ghost notices your failed deep breathing and lets go of one of your hands, before taking the other and holding it to his chest.

You can just barely feel his heartbeat, his thick tactical vest and gear in the way of it, but you can still feel it. Ghost takes a deep breath, holding it for a second or two before slowly exhaling.

“You copy me, okay?” He tells you, his words an order but his tone suggesting otherwise. He takes another deep breath, this time hoping you’ll follow his lead, and you do.

You try to breathe with him, your hand on his chest helping, but your breath keeps getting caught in your throat. Ghost notices this, but continues his breathing anyway, hoping you’ll catch on soon. You do, thankfully—after a few more attempted breaths, you finally manage one almost identical to Ghost’s. The next few after that go similarly, and that’s when Ghost decides you’re alright to take your hand off of his chest.

“I need you to tell me what to do,” He says, keeping your hand in his hold, “or at least tell me how all of this works. I want to help you.”

You really don’t want to tell him what you need right now, but you also don’t think you have a choice.

Wordlessly, you stand up from your seat, balance just slightly off-center before you quickly get your footing right. Ghost watches you, not moving, before you tug on his hand to try and urge him to get up as well. He obliges, getting up.

“What—” You interrupt him by taking another step forward and letting your head thump right into his chest, ignoring the itchy uncomfortable feeling of his vest against your face. You don’t bother to wrap your arms around him to at least try and form some sort of hug, preferring to just smush yourself into him and hope for the best.

After a moment of stunned silence, he wraps his arms around you.

“You mind if we move behind my desk so I can look up some more stuff on all of this?” He asks, voice quiet, “Unless you want to just tell me?”

“Desk,” You simply mumble into his vest, making him nod.

“Alright, but you’re gonna have to stop hugging me for a second,” Ghost warns you. You reluctantly step away, and Ghost smiles softly down at you, bringing his hands away from your back and instead holding one of yours.

He leads you behind his desk, and lets go of your hand before sitting down in his chair. Pausing, he quickly realizes you have nowhere to sit, and thinks for a moment before getting back up. He drags his chair just slightly to the side and looks back at you.

“Sit down,” He nods to the chair, “It’s only gonna be a minute or two, alright?”

You nod, hesitantly moving to sit in the chair, not really liking how far away from Ghost it is. It's not that far, You try to rationalize, I’m gonna be fine.

Ghost can see your hesitation and tries to work as quickly as he can, grateful that he didn’t turn his computer off earlier, typing away on his keyboard. You don’t care to see what he’s looking up, more focused on looking at the time on his monitor. 21:44. 21:45. The time ticks by and even though it’s only been a few seconds you already want Ghost’s attention again. His attention has actually turned into good attention, and that’s the type of attention you’ve been craving for the past week.

The clock reads 21:47 once Ghost is done, and he powers his monitor off this time, the small whirring the device makes dying down to a low hum before going completely silent. He turns to you, and somehow can sense that you need more attention.

“Am I not paying enough attention to you?” He teases you, making you conflicted on whether you should be annoyed by the teasing or happy you’re finally getting attention. As if he can read your mind, he chuckles, and kneels down to your level.

“I’m gonna give you as much attention as you need, alright?” He promises, “I just need you to stay in this room.”

—

Ghost watches you nod non-verbally, and it only adds to his softening expression.

He’s always had a soft spot for kids. He knows that you aren’t technically a kid, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still see you as one. You’re young for someone in the military, much less someone in this 141, and now that he’s found out that you’re an age regressor, that you’re a little—well, that doesn’t help how he sees you at all.

He thinks that maybe the reason he has such a soft spot for kids is a few encounters he’s had with them in the past. He’s seen far too many in compromising positions while on missions; positions like being held hostage, being held as prisoner, or just generally being mistreated or even just living in bad conditions.

He looks at you, and he just sees another one of those kids.

He sees how you act around him. He’s not stupid. When he talks to you, you’re actually engaged in the conversation, compared to when anyone else tries to talk to you—maybe excluding Price, or Soap, or Gaz, heavy on that maybe—you’re more likely than not brushing them off every chance you get. You’re standoffish with everyone else, but with him, you’ll always accept any conversation he initiates.

He can also see the way you look at him. It’s like you’re looking at your idol, or your savior, the way you look up at him. He can see that curious glint in your eyes when he tells you about a recent mission, or when he tells you anything, really. He can see when you try to mimic how he holds his weapons, and when you try to copy his techniques.

He remembers catching you one day in the shooting range trying to mimic how he aims at the targets—looking through your scope with one eye closed, the other focused only on the dot centered on the scope, taking a deep breath in and out before shooting, and keeping the gun exactly like that even seconds after the shot’s been fired.

In fact, the copying has gone from guns to melee weapons recently. Ghost swings only his forearm when he uses a knife, thumb resting on the very end of the knife’s handle, and entire arm stiff as he does. He does a slow windup when behind someone, a fast one on the off-chance that he’s in front, and buries the weapon to the hilt in whoever’s flesh he’s penetrated. He’s already seen you do the same on a recent mission. Not only that, but he caught you using a knife almost identical to his.

And now, you’re still looking at him like that—except, different. Sort of like how a kid might look up to their parents.

“What do you feel like doing, kiddo?” He asks, hoping the pet name isn’t too much.

From the way your eyes light up, he suspects it isn't.

“Mmm…” You hum, thinking for a moment, before requesting, “Coloring?”

“Coloring, huh?” Ghost looks around for some blank paper and some sort of marker or pen thick enough to act as one, but can only find some highlighters. He turns to you, frowning, “Sorry, but I don’t think I have any paper, kid. Anything else you wanna do?”

You shake your head, and Ghost is just about ready to jump off of a bridge before you point to his arm and repeat, “Coloring.”

He looks at his arm for a second, confused, before he remembers a conversation the two of you had a month or so ago.

“If you ever wanna get tattoos, I know a guy in Brighton,” Ghost said, reclining his chair back so that he can lay down in it. You were sitting across from him in front of his desk, fiddling with one of his pens.

“Good to know,” You hummed, “You have any tattoos?”

“Yeah,” You perked up at his admission, and he sat up for a second to roll up the sleeve of his shirt. He wasn’t wearing his usual gear, only one of those standard issue army-green shirts.

“Here,” He pointed to a large tattoo covering his whole arm like a sleeve, a few designs you could point out to yourself being a skull, a few Roman numerals, and some kind of scythe.

“Very emo,” You commented, making Ghost snort, “I like it.”

“I’m glad,” He rolled his sleeve back down.

There’s a lot of blank space in the tattoo, despite it being a sleeve, and he can already tell that you mean you want to color in that space. He thinks about it for a moment, a fleeting thought of is that even safe? crossing his mind before he ultimately decides that he doesn’t care and would rather kill himself than see you disappointed because he denied your request, his own health be damned.

“Alright,” He hums, grabbing a few highlighters from a mesh cup on his desk in the colors pink, yellow, and blue, “Go for it.”

You give him a small smile and if he cared about if he’d get ink poisoning two seconds ago, he sure as hell doesn’t care now. You gingerly grab the highlighters from his hand, your grabbing not too secure and sort of clumsy but secure enough that the markers stay in your hand.

You hold them with both hands, and it makes Ghost realize how small your hands are—sure, you could hold the highlighters with one hand, but he’s glad you aren’t because now he can admire just how small you are as a whole.

You set the yellow and blue down on his desk, making sure they don’t roll off for a moment before uncapping the pink and hesitantly holding out a hand for Ghost’s arm. He rolls up his sleeve and obediently holds out his arm for you, watching curiously as you press the cold tip of the highlighter to his skin. You’re starting by coloring in the skull a neon pink, much to his amusement, and you’re starting in the dead center of its forehead.

You’re so much more quiet than you usually are when you’re little, and you’re so much more hesitant, it makes Ghost want to just wrap you in a blanket and keep you safe and in his sight forever.

Your tongue slightly pokes out from between your lips as you concentrate on coloring in Ghost’s tattoo, making him grin beneath his mask. The ink of the highlighter doesn’t stay within the black bounds of his tattoos at all, but he doesn’t care one bit, and he doesn’t think you care either. You finish up the skull quickly, and move onto the scythe that’s right next to it, this time capping the pink highlighter and grabbing the yellow.

Ghost is pretty sure this is gonna stain his skin for a day or two, but he couldn’t care less.

He can’t help but notice how much more relaxed you look in your regressed state. More at peace, he should say. There’s no longer a hunch in your shoulders, your eyes aren’t twitching from your headache, and you’re not bouncing your leg like you usually do when you’re sitting down somewhere. It’s like any anxieties you had pre-regression had evaporated, like slipping into a younger mentality had taken away most of your worries, if not all of them.

He also can’t help but wish he could see you like this more often. Not necessarily the regressed part, but the relaxed part. Well, maybe the regressed part too. You’re being such a sweetheart right now, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to live through this experience.

“You having fun there, darling?” Ghost asks, his grin evident in his voice. The corners of your lips quirk up at the pet name and you nod silently, and now Ghost is starting to think you’re actually trying to kill him. You’re being so uncharacteristically shy, and you’re being so quiet, and you’re just being so sweet.

It seems you’ve moved onto the blue highlighter now, coloring in the last bit of his tattoo. He doesn’t think he’ll ever wash it off—or, at least, he wouldn’t if he had a choice. He knows that he has to shower sometime soon, but surely he can put that off for a bit, right?

Once you’re finished with your coloring, you cap the highlighter, and set it down next to the others you’ve discarded. You turn Ghost’s arm the tiniest bit towards him so that he can see your work better.

“‘s it good?” You ask quietly, watching intently for Ghost’s reaction. He looks over your coloring job and hums approvingly.

“It’s amazing, I love it,” He assures you, smiling down softly at you, “You did great.”

You seem to preen at the praise, and you take your hand off of Ghost’s arm, moving to put in your lap. You’re keeping yourself very contained, Ghost notices, Why?

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when he hears you yawn, and you quickly move to cover your mouth as you do. He’s reminded that it’s almost twenty-two hundred, and while that usually wouldn’t be an issue for him, it’s an issue for you. You originally came to the 141 as someone who had a sleep schedule almost as fucked up at Ghost’s, but soon developed a habit of going to sleep somewhat early considering the training you had in the morning. So, now you get tired anywhere from eighteen-hundred to twenty-one hundred. After that, your only goal is to find somewhere to sleep.

“Sleepy?” You nod tiredly, making Ghost coo, Ghost, the man who quite literally haunts some people’s nightmares, coos at you, “Aw, of course you are, sweetheart. Pretty sure it’s way past your bedtime by now.”

“Nuh uh,” You deny, making Ghost chuckle.

“‘Nuh uh’?” He asks, amused, “What d’you mean ‘nuh uh’?”

“No b’dtime,” You shortly elaborate.

“Ohhh, okay,” Ghost feigns realization, “You think you’re too big for a bedtime, huh?”

“Mhm. Way too big.”

“I dunno about ‘way’ too big,” Ghost hums, checking to see if the highlighter on his arm has dried before he pulls his sleeve back down. “You seem pretty little to me.”

“No,” You whine, dragging out the ‘o’, “Not lil’.”

“Hmm… you sure, kiddo?” Ghost asks, “So if I ask you if you need to go to bed, you’re gonna say ‘no’?”

That makes you hesitate, and Ghost almost thinks he’s won, before your own pettiness wins and you nod affirmatively. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Alright, well, you’ve gotta sleep at some point,” He says, crossing his arms as he leans back in his chair.

You think this over for a second, and he watches as you look over him for a moment before looking down at his lap, then looking back up at him. He can already tell there’s some sort of plan forming in your mind. Wordlessly, you get up, and Ghost does nothing to stop you as you decide to just plop yourself down into his lap. You straddle his thighs, moving until you’re sitting comfortably on him, and then let yourself slump forward so that your face is resting in the crook of his neck. It takes him a moment to process what just happened, before he laughs lightly and wraps both of his arms around you to keep you in place.

“Oh, okay,” He grins, resting his chin on your shoulder, “you just wanna cuddle with me until you fall asleep? Is that what this is?”

He feels you nod against his neck, and his grin grows as he rubs one hand against your back, trying to soothe you to sleep. He doesn’t say anything else, not wanting to distract you from your attempts to sleep anymore, simply letting you stay slumped against him. Your breathing wasn’t too fast-paced to begin with, but as you relax even more in his arms, he can feel your breathing even out.

You’re falling asleep fairly quickly, and the only complaint he has is that he didn’t get to spend nearly as much time as he wanted to with you while you were awake and regressed.

Once he’s sure you’re barely awake, he murmurs, “You’re such a sweetheart, you know that?”

—

You don’t know how long it’s been since you fell asleep, but you’re woken up by the slight rustling of clothes, and then you feel yourself moving up.

Your mind still feels foggy and you can tell you’re still somewhat in that younger mindset of yours, but now you’re significantly less bothered by it than you were before. You’re awake enough to be aware of what’s happening, always having been a light-sleeper, but not awake enough to know exactly what’s happening. You don’t dare open your eyes, and try to keep your breathing even—though that isn’t much of a challenge.

That headache that had been building up earlier has fully disappeared, thank God, and you no longer feel the tension in your shoulder that you’d been unconsciously carrying.

You can sort of feel someone’s arms snaked under your back, and you know that you’re being moved somewhere. Quickly, you remember that it’s Ghost carrying you, and that you had fallen asleep on him, much to your embarrassment. Or, at least, it would be much to your embarrassment if you had the mental capacity to feel embarrassed about that right now. But you feel so comfy and so safe that it really doesn’t matter to you right now.

You can hear the clicking of Ghost’s boots against the concrete floors of the hallway, and he’s carrying you off somewhere; you imagine that somewhere to be your sleeping quarters. He’s walking pretty fast, not hurriedly but still at a somewhat fast pace.

Soon, he reaches a stopping point where he has to awkwardly put one leg up to support your back on his thigh as he quickly reaches one arm out to turn the knob of the door to your sleeping quarters and pulls that arm right back to support your back again. He sighs as he puts his foot back down, kicking open the door and walking in.

He’s quick to reach your bed, and he pauses as he considers what to do. You can practically hear him thinking, wondering how he’s gonna get you under the covers while he’s still carrying you, and for a second you think about showing him you’re awake so that things are easier for him before he sets you down on the bed.

He pulls the covers up and stops when he reaches the part your body covers, and picks you back up, before dropping you right back off where the blankets have been pulled away. He pulls the covers back over you.

After a few moments, you think he’s left the room, before you hear the rustling of fabric and feel him leaning down. He gently presses his lips to your forehead and pulls away after a second or two, before quietly mumbling, “Night, kiddo.”

He stays there for a moment before you hear his footsteps leave the room, and then the door clicking shut behind him as he leaves the room entirely.

You’re quick to fall asleep after that.

#cod #cod hcs #hcs #task force 141 #simon ghost riley #ghost #age regression #caregiver ghost #ghost x reader #platonic ghost x reader #platonic ghost #i find him so lovely #hes my dad guys trust #i was literally meant to be his kid #trust that if i ever get any cod games with him in it i will spend the whole time admiring him #dad pls come back home #i miss u #python333

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fandomfuntimem · 6 months ago

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More dp x dc and/or just dp stuff i would like to see more of.

(This time just stuff i think would be fun)

Danny gets more animalistic and ghostly in ghost form over time:

I've always loved the joke "from the day we are born we are slowly dying" and since this guy is half dead, he slowly looks more like a ghost when in his ghost form.

As for the animalistic thing. I dont mean legit growling or purring. I mean him having painted ears that move around and pin back when mad. Maybe a tail (tails are fun for expressing emotions). Pupils that dilate and slit. Stuff like that. He just gets more funky with time.

Constantine and Danny actually get along:

They're both tired, magical, and have seen some shit. If they are both adults when meeting they can be drinking buddies or something idk.

If Constantine met Danny as a teen tho i imagine he wouldn't look down on Danny or get too annoyed with him. He would treat him as an equal. He recognises and magic users are different, and Danny has been dealing with the magical bullshit all alone. This kid deserves some respect damn it! Infact it would be funny if the JL interacted with them at the same time and realized they were actually both really similer. Similer facial expressions and exhausted attitudes.

Danny is just stupidly calm in the face of horrific things:

I tried to find that meme with the "well that just happened" thing but couldnt find it.

But yeah. Mans is used to it.

Danny is more conflicted about where he belongs:

Too alive to be dead, too dead to be alive. Poor guy is practicly the town punching bag and ghosts always target him for what he is. He feels like he never belongs. It should be expressed more often. Like maybe he feels free and happy as Phantom, but he also knows that as Danny he's who his family and friends love and care about. Make him conflicted.

In a dp x dc context. I feel like at first you think he would fit in amoungst the heros. But he's too young to interract with the adult heros, but too experienced and powerful to interact with the younger heros. He struggles to fit in and he has to work through that. That also circles back to the Constantine point. I dont know much about the magic users in dc, but i can image theres a very large veriety of them all ranging in species and age. So maybe he belongs most with them, cuz to them he's just another acultist.

THERE NEEDS TO BE MORE FLUFF!:

STOP THE TORTURE, STOP THE HURT, LET THERE JUST BE FAMILIAL FLUFF!!!!!! LET THERE BE HEALING!!!! PROCESSING GRIEF AND EMOTIONS!!!!!!!!! LET THEM BE HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#dp x dc #danny phantom #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc comics #funtime speaketh #i wanted to do another one #i just like it #hopefully the last

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forsworned · 3 months ago

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I NEED more Elias Walker content before I die😫😫💀

God Knows I Tried ft. Elias Walker

Synopsis: Your daddy issues are raging and your long-time 'victim' has been none other than your superior and captain, Elias Walker. After a failed attempt to capture and kill Rorke, you go to "comfort" him, but he seems to have other plans for you.

Author's Note: AND GUESS WHAT I WILL PROVIDE FOR YOU, I'M GLAD WE'RE REVIVING GHOSTS IN THE FORM OF DROOLING OVER DILFS BC LORD KNOWS I NEED SOME MORE MCDADDY CLUB LOVIN

Tags: NSFW, Daddy Issues, Age Gap, Power Dynamics, Reader has long hair???

Elias ruffles his fingers through his silver hair after he removes his distressed and worn mask, setting it down on his desk as he sharply inhales. He hadn't gotten to Rorke on time and that pissed him off, and rightfully so. The bastard had been getting away every damn time. His body is tense and he feels as though his anger is brimming from within, bubbling to the surface and he yearns to do something about it.

So when you come rapping on his door, ripping him away from his inner turmoil, and he hears the pleasant sound of your voice through the small crack asking, "Can I come in?" He is more than willing to oblige.

His body completely faces you now, beaconing you over, and taking in your figure in your all-black tactical uniform. It fits you like a second skin, but his intense gaze shifts to your smooth visage. The moonlight catches in your teeth when you greet him. "Can I speak to you for a moment, Sir?"

He raises a brow at you. "Somethin' on your mind, Sergeant?"

Truthfully, you had no idea why you came in. You just found yourself walking back to his office rather than your bunk. After today's failure, you want nothing more than to comfort him. You slowly step forward, just a few feet away from him. "Was just checkin' on you...?"

God, you were so stupid. Checking in? Come on...

A flash of amusement etches into his features, he tilts his head as he studies your expression. "Checkin' in?" He leans his palms against his wooden desk.

"Yeah, I mean--I know this is something very close to you..."

Oh. My. God. Would you shut the everliving fuck up!?

He sighs and turns to the night sky. The moon is full, and its luminance brings a sense of calm to him. He chuckles at your obvious statement, but he doesn't chide you about it. Something about you makes the hardass in him a little soft. "Suppose so."

You swallow and fiddle with the leather on your gloves, waiting to think of something, anything else to add to the conversation, but your mind is coming up blank.

"Tell me, Sergeant--why did you really come into my office?"

Your heart drops to your ass, and your stomach does the thing. Not the hot-and-sexy-thing, but the oh-shit-I-just-got caught thing.

Elias is a sharp man; follows his intuition, checks every corner he treks, and was raised by plain-spoken folk. He can see through most people and unfortunately, you're most people. You wear your heart on your sleeve, your gaze lingers longer than usual and although it may not be obvious to others, you imitate most of his behaviorisms.

Where you used to take your coffee sweet and milky, you now take black. The way you now drink sparkling water over soda. Your go-to music is The Eagles and Creed over Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift (though you still did listen to them, it was seldom). Even your eating habits have changed drastically from avid fast food eater to health nut, although that seems more like a get in shape sorta ordeal due to your fast-paced, rigorous work environment. Either way, you have definitely been picking up on a lot of things that he actively does.

You avert your gaze to your fatigued boots. "I don't know."

"Step forward, soldier." He commands, and you oblige. Not because he commanded it, but because you want to be nearer to him. To take in the scent of gunpowder and the leftover aroma of his aftershave.

You're a foot away from him now, hands tucked behind your back, eyes forward. His dark eyes size you up, and you feel the sweat forming on the nape of your neck.

"Eyes up." His fingers tap under your chin and your lip quivers a bit when you meet his gaze. "You gonna tell me what's really on your mind?"

He taps on your chin once more. "And don't lie to me."

You swallow thickly. "It's not...appropriate."

He clicks his tongue and a half smile appears on his lips. "That right?"

You nod. "Yes, sir."

"I want to hear it."

But he sees the trepidation that overcomes your features. It’s been so painfully obvious to him. Your little crush. It was endearing, cute, mere puppy love, but he would be lying to himself if he hadn’t thought of molding your walls with his girthy cock. He usually tiptoes around it, but the mission from earlier is bringing on an itch that he can’t quite scratch. Not even a Playboy mag could get him right anymore.

He sighs. "You're not my bud to blossom, sweetheart." Brushing the strands out of your face. You tremble at his touch, yet you lean into it. God, he could do anything to you and you'd let him.

"But I'd let you." You grasp his hand. His eyes ream in surprise, but the building arousal jostles up his spine. He may think that blossom is not for him, but he's intently observing how your desire stirs, seeping into your veins. His breath spreads out your petals, the smell of your perfume permeating, intoxicating him.

Your lips part open and his thumb slips in, your saliva coating his gunpowder-stained skin draws an involuntary groan from him. He wants to devour you, but he can't. You're too sweet, too decadent, too fresh. He needs to take his time to savor you. It's wrong, but he can't help himself. Especially when you look up at him with those pretty, perfect doe eyes with his fingers in your mouth.

Your free hand palms at his crotch. It's intrepid, daring how forward you are about your fiery fervor for him. He cocks an eyebrow at you, but he doesn't halt your actions.

"That's a big weapon you're slingin' there, sir." You smirk up at him, squeezing his member over his trousers. "Can I cock it?"

He chuckles at your cheekiness. He wants to disarm you, wipe off everything on his desk, and throw you up there. And you'd be so easy to lift too...

But he's shocked when your lips lock with his, a dauntless action on your part. A subordinate fraternizing with her superior? It's enough to get you locked up, and dishonorably charged, but this wasn't the minor leagues anymore. You were hunting for bigger fish. Something that's beyond the crumbling American government outside these four walls. There's a spark between the both of you that you've been waiting to ignite in him, and he can no longer suppress his deepest hunger pains for his carnal needs.

And soon he is swiping away at the stacks of papers and stationery that lines his desk, hoisting you up to sit that pretty ass on his mahogany counter. A gruff moan escapes his lips as you collide once more, and you're practically clawing at his chest. His tongue slips between your lips wanting to collect yours as your teeth clash in desperate need for each other's solace.

His hands grasp at your wrists, slowing you down, wanting to relish in your taste, your smell, your touch, and the way you moan when he dips his head in the crook of your neck to sensually kiss at your sweet spot. Perspiration builds at the base of his forehead as he slowly unzips your fleece, revealing more of your skin and he kisses at your sternum. Your fingers thread through his silver hair and your breaths become labored at his hot touch.

He wants to build as much anticipation as possible before he takes all of you, all of what you'll allow him at least. Impatiently, your arms cross over your chest, pinching at the hem and smoothly peeling off the skin-tight fabric, leaving you only in your tactical bra. Elias pauses for a second. He loves to appreciate the finer things in life.

His fingers caress your disheveled plait from the top to where your hair tie keeps it bound and he gently removes it. You analyze the lust and admiration in his features as he carefully unweaves your hair.

You watch as his Adam's apple oscillates. "You're beautiful." He susurrates, carding his fingers through your hair. Your heart stammers against your chest when you notice how he looks at you. The rough pads of his fingers glide over your collarbone to the strap of your bra, and slides either side off of your shoulder to reveal your naked breasts. Your nipples instantly harden from the chill in the room, and he gulps before reaching out to squeeze your left one.

To say it had been a while was simply an understatement. The touch of a woman has been lost on him since the death of his wife. So soft, so supple. He pinches at your bud and you involuntarily arch your back and whine out. The guilt he feels dissipates the second his lips latch onto your nipple and you shudder as his tongue swirls around the sensitive skin. "Captain...!"

He gently hushes and kisses your lips tenderly, then your cheek, your jaw as he cops another feel, grabbing two handfuls of your tits while he sucks on your neck. One of his hands glides over the expanse of your abdomen, to unbuckle your belt and unzip your trousers--

"Dad?"

Shit, he left the office unlocked. But it's too late. His boys are stepping through the door, although it's not long before their eyes ream at your half-naked form, legs spread with their father between them. Hesh quickly shuts the door and you both glance down, feeling the guilt skulk into your minds.

"I should go--" Elias sputters, and you nod as you scramble to put your clothes back on. Now this was humiliating. Being caught by his sons fraternizing with their father is just the icing on the cake of it all. You straighten your hair and fix your collar as you begin to head out the door, but his hand catches your wrist bringing you back flush against his chest.

"Don't think I'm lettin' them scare you off." He caresses your cheek, with thumb and you sigh, cheeks still warm with embarrassment. "I ain't done with you yet, sweetheart. Got that?"

He raises his brows at you and you nod. "Yes, sir."

He kisses you softly and your heart skips a beat. "Go on, now." He gestures toward the door. "I'll deal with those two."

Your lashes flutter up at him and you feel warmth all over. He smiles at you, kissing your wrist and it's no wonder you keep forgetting to leave. His gaze, his aura it's alluring and you keep pulling back in for more.

He chuckles at the hearts in your eyes. "That's an order, soldier."

You straighten at his words and nod before rushing out the door, ensuring you hear the click as you close it and quickly get to your quarters. A feeling of heaviness weighs on your shoulders as soon as you shut your door. How were you going to face Hesh and Logan?

#call of duty #cod #call of duty imagines #call of duty x reader #elias walker #elias walker x reader #mcdaddy #call of duty ghosts #cod ghosts #elias walker smut #call of duty smut #cod smut #cod fanfic #cod x reader #x reader #x female reader

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mandoriana · 3 months ago

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I Could Be Pretty (funny) by grayskiesandstars

Charles deserved perfection. Edwin wasn’t perfection, no matter how hard he tried to get things completely right every time. How could he be perfection?

He wasn’t even pretty.

~~~

or: Charles likes to draw. Edwin likes to write. They both believe that they are unworthy of each other.

The Case of the Looping Boy by NobleDragon

When Edwin escapes Hell for the first time, in the year of 1989 in his schools basement, he never thought he would be a detective. In fact, he never thought that his first case would be something he would ever solve nor be something that he would never tell of.

Edwin never thought that he would have to solve a ghost looping his own death over and over, ending with the boy dying from the cold and thrown stones in St. Hilarion's dusty attic.

Terrible at keeping secrets (5+1) by ASingularSadSoggyPringle

AKA 5 Times someone finds out Edwin is a demon, and 1 time he tells everyone.

Edwin crawls out of Hell on the day Charles Rowland dies- it ties Edwin to him in a way he can't explain, or admit to Charles, at risk of exposing himself as not what he seems. He doesn't want to lie, but he doesn't want to lose those closest to him, either. Too bad he's terrible at keeping secrets, and it seems they already know.

i'm not free at all (my heart is like a haunted house) by halffulljampot

“Are you okay m’am?”

Beatrice Payne looks up to see a young man, a young ghost in fact, standing in front of her. She has seen the decades slowly turn since her death and so would guess, based on the ghost’s attire, that he originates from the 1980s. He really is very young. A similar age to her son when she lost him.

*****

Five times that Beatrice Payne and Charles Rowland talk about Edwin without knowing it and one time they do.

Become So Numb by snowkatze

Charles never manages to convince the Night Nurse to let him rescue Edwin.

boyfriend jacket by skadii

Five times Charles gave Edwin his jacket and one time Edwin stole it.

You said, “I’ll never leave you alone” by Aster_Flower114

A 2 part fic where Edwin and Charles both have to turn into their orb forms to recharge their energy. The story of Orbwin and Chorb.

a world without you (isn't meant for me) by fairest

When Charles finally finds him after what feels like hours of searching in the endless stretches of hallway, he is not expecting a second boy.

Or,

Simon accepts Edwin's offer.

The Case of the Living Ghost by Creepypasta_fander

When a spell goes wrong on a case, Edwin finds himself living again. Despite his best attempts to find a solution to this problem before the night is out, he must eventually succumb to the functions of a normal, living body

back to back they faced each other by ShanaStoryteller

The Night Nurse has a theory about Charles.

Everyone has favorites

#dead boy detectives #dbda #dead boy detective agency #charles rowland #edwin payne #payneland #the sandman #crystal palace #niko sasaki #fic rec #fanfiction recommendation

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vladdyissues · 20 days ago

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I like the idea of "halfa's ghost form changes with their personality". First of all, it looks the age halfa feels himself/herself (so, yes, I doubt that Phantom is forever 14). I guess, Danny will get a full knight armor and, maybe, some stuff like a cape.

As for Vlad, I have more headcanons (but I should warn you, I see his hair as long and loose which is better for bitter broken lonely soul). The first change should has happened after "Masters of All Time": Vlad was at full force all the time to heal yourself, preventing ecto-acne symptoms, but since he is cured, his ghost form is in normal state, Plasmius' eyes aren't the whole red anymore, it's human-alike but still red, maybe, there're some pink inclusions.

At the start of Vlad's redemption arc he must develop his creative skill (ecto-constructions, weapons that works on his pink ectoplasm), trying new forms. Slowly but surely he will approach to his dream - to raise a child - he will learn how to create a life. It will take decades or even centuries but soon he will learn to make something beautiful and durable. Something like this will add to the ghost form, something like a… pink rose's tucked behind the ear.

And the last change in Plasmius' look I see is breezy hairstyle which is formed after the mutual love confession of Vlad and Danny.

I'm sorry if these hcs sound too corny for Vlad but after all I see the bitter broken lonely man who develops by love and the young halfa into the beautiful burning soul but still bitter-sweet because he can't forget what he comes through. (I love him)

No no no, these headcanons are great! Beautiful, actually. (I firmly believe there's no such thing as a "corny" headcanon. That's like saying only certain hopes and dreams have value while others are worthless—and what are headcanons but our hopes and dreams for stories and the characters within them?)

Evolving ghost forms, especially for halfas—who, unlike spectral entities, are still changing and aging—makes a lot of sense. And the idea of Vlad having long, flowing biseinen hair is very appealing 🌹

You also brought up a fantastic point about Vlad's ecto-acne being cured in Masters of All Time and how that would affect him going forward. I have a pile of headcanons about that myself but I'll make a separate post about it since it's more general meta.

But yes, imagine if Vlad was allowed to be more than a 2-dimensional cartoon villain, and curing his ecto-acne removed a terrible, irritating thorn from his side. When one is no longer suffering or in chronic pain—or living in fear of the next flare-up—imagine the difference that would make mentally and emotionally.

How could Vlad possibly be unchanged after that? The Fentons cured him. (Okay, it was more Danny discovering the cause and Maddie developing the vaccine, but still, it was their combined efforts that ultimately saved him.) If there was going to be a turning point for Vlad's character, that would have been the place to start, just like you said.

And hey, we can still dream that's what really happened, right? 🔮

#asks #danny phantom #pompous pep #vlad masters #headcanon #meta #redemption arc #hjbendergifs

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 years ago

Text

i’ve got you

plum, chapter nineteen

warnings: Joel Miller x reader, smut, MILD SPOILERS for the last of us (both games and the hbo series), timeline wise this is set in between the first and second game (so when they live in Jackson), age gap (20 years), rape recovery, ptsd, kissing, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, dirty talk, love confession

word count: 1301

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“Hey, are you okay?” Joel asked as he felt your body suddenly stiffen up in his lap.

“I-…” you exhaled slowly, focusing your jittery vision on his warm eyes, “this just got very real all of a sudden…”

“Yeah…” his wide palm moved gently over your bare back, his respectful gaze staying on your face and not drifting down to soak up the distracting vision of your collective nude forms moulded against each other, “do you wanna stop?”

“No,” you shook your head lightly.

“Do you wanna do something else? Because you know I’m fine, we don’t have to do this.”

“No, I really really want to, I just-…” your eyes drifted down to stare at his shoulder while you spoke sincerely, “I wanna stay here with you and not have my mind wander off and get confused…”

“I want you to stay here too, more than anything,” his fingers tangled themselves in your hair, bringing your eyes back up to meet his, “what can I do? What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know…” you offered him a shy shrug, “I guess you could try and remind me? Help keep me focused on this, on you…”

“Okay,” he agreed softly, his thumb swiping over your flushed cheek, “well you’re right here with me, there is no one else, just you and me, plum.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, your shoulders relaxing under his comforting touch.

“And you know that I’ve got you, right? No matter what, no matter how, I’ve got you.”

Feeling a soft smile warm up your face, you echoed, “you’ve got me,” and absentmindedly rolled your hips once more against his own, rubbing your leaking cunt all over the underside of his length as it stood proud.

Leaning in to steal a chased kiss, you sneaked your hand down between your forms and ghosted your fingers over his girth. Joel sucked in a breath as you slowly gained more confidence, dancing your fingertips over his slick stained dick.

With a hand rooted on his chest as an anchor, you needily began to buck your hips against him, your weeping folds enveloping his cock as you rocked against him.

“Fuck,” Joel hissed in pleasure, his nose bumping lightly against your own as he commented on the slick sounds accompanying every desperate rock, “you’re so wet.”

Brows knitted together you let your head drop down and hide in the crook of his neck, your whimpers vibrating against his skin and as you felt the fire inside of you begin to grow out of control, and so did the confession that irrepressibly flowed from your blissful lips.

“I love you.”

You instantly froze up, feeling your swollen clit throb against his hard cock.

“Oh my god…” he breathed, sounding utterly amazed.

“I-…” you continued to hide, “oh god, I’m sorry… I-, I’m sorry…”

“No, hey, hey,” his hands found your neck and gently pulled you back, “why are you sorry, huh?” he searched your averted gaze.

“I didn’t mean to say that.”

“You didn’t mean it?”

“No, I just didn’t mean to blurt it out like that!” completely mortified, you brought your hands up to shield your face.

“…so you-”

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“Plum,” you felt his thumbs swipe over the backs of your hands, begging them to reveal your face to him, “please stop apologizing for telling me the best thing you could ever say to me,” holding your breath, you slowly let your fingers fall down. Sucking in a gasp of air, he gazed into your nervous eyes and uttered earnestly, “I love you too.”

Feeling lightheaded, you breathed, “what?”

“I love you,” he repeated with a small chuckle as the words sank in.

“You-… you do?”

“Yeah, of course I do, I mean, how could I not-,” but he didn’t get to gush any further as you feverishly grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss, an amazed giggle soon interrupting your adoring lips.

“I love you,” you smiled, planting a dozen pecks all over his face, his arms wrapping around you and enveloping you in warmth as he contentedly rocked the both of you lightly in his embrace.

“I love you,” he beamed as you gently raised your hips up and grabbed his twitching length, aligning it with your entrance, “I lo-… love-… holy shit,” he cursed as you slowly sank down on his fat girth.

The sensation of him stretching you out had a confusing cocktail of emotions flooding your system. It both felt so beyond amazing because it was him, it was Joel, but it also had your body trembling with the assault of tainted memories.

Your wide eyes eventually locked on his as you stilled in his lap, letting the warmth of his kind eyes ground you as you breathed, sounding like you were sucking in your very first breath, “Joel,” your chest rose and fell rapidly as your vision washed over his face.

One arm staying safely around your torso, the other hand drifted up to the side of your head, “yeah, it’s me, it’s just me,” lovingly taming your wild hair as you steadied your fevered breath.

Feeling your body relax under his touch, your fluttering eyes darkened as you instinctively rolled your hips, “Joel,” watching his face contort beautifully as you grinded in his lap, letting his cock nuzzle in that much deeper.

“Yeah, that’s it,” the arm that was tangled around you snaked down so that the hand could supportively grip your backside, “keep saying my name, just like that,” you desperately picked up the pace, moaning intoxicatedly at the sound of his deep voice, “it’s just me, I’ve got you.”

Half of the time when his name left your lips, the mantra sounded utterly incoherent as your moans drowned it out, leaving the whispered prayer completely unrecognizable.

Asking for permission with his gaze, he kept his eyes locked on yours as he lowered his head down enough to bury it in the swell of your tit, feeling his hot tongue swipe across your skin as his cock stretched you out so intoxicatingly.

With one hand firmly aiding your fevered pace, the other one stayed right where your bodies met, swirling your swollen clit with a firmness that made it difficult for you to keep your hazy eyes open.

“Joel,” you let him take over as you neared the end, surprising you with how effortlessly he bounced you in his lap, sloppy wet sounds filling the living room as your skin slapped against each other with every needy thrust, your juices undoubtedly dripping down onto the couch at this point. “Joel,” you whimpered as you clambered down around him, nearly choking his dick to death as you came on his cock.

Your thighs trembled violently as he let out a string of beautifully lewd moans, holding you there and fucking your spasming pussy just a few more times before he pulled you back just enough for him to yank out his angry cock, pumping it quickly in his tight fist, his forearm flexing under the strain as hot ropes of cum spilt out and painted your heaving belly.

“Fuck,” he cursed, breathing heavy as he pulled you in to kiss your cheek. Draping both of his arms around you and holding you close, you felt his heartbeat thump against your chest as you slowly regained composure of your own ragged breathing. “You okay, Y/n?”

“I-… I think so…” you blinked back at him, completely starry-eyed, “oh my god, I love you.”

“I love you,” he couldn’t help the relieved, breathy chuckle that bubbled out of him, “fuck, I’m so proud of you. You-, you’re-…” his eyes flicked across your face, his brain visibly melting at the way you looked back at him right now, “christ, I love you…”

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yellowbunnydreams · 3 months ago

Text

The Blood Runs Thicker (part 17) ~vampire!William Afton x F! Reader~

~I have many plans for this series still! I wanted to thank everybody for their continued support.~

Tag-List; @ruh--roh-raggy @randymeeksisafinalgirl @sleepy---head @robin-the-enby @hungrhay @likoplays @slxsher-whxre @nicolezghostz @spiderlilytengu @yondus-girl @puppetstr1ings

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Want more or something different? *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

CW:Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - ??), graphic acts of violence, biting, knife-play, blood, blood-drinking/licking, mention of dead children, anaemia. Mentions of torture. Drama/Angst. Possessive behaviour. Descriptions of a medical nature and disability.

Charlie's words still rang softly in your ear by the time you crawled into bed.

You hadn't quite believed that you had heard them, you asked the half-ghost what she had meant, but had only been met with silence in return. You supposed she had made her request, and it was time for you to enact it before William decided you were leaving to where-ever the next stop on his little road-trip was.

The vampire hadn't crawled into the large bed with you, but rather, Henry had given you separate rooms. You supposed it made sense, since he was probably very unsure of who exactly you were and how you were acquainted with William Afton, but you felt a little hurt that you hadn't been stood up for by William, that he hadn't said 'we're together'. This was the first time you'd seen the vampire get emotional though, uncomfortable, you had seen him confused and afraid when Michael and Elizabeth arrived, but even then he came back out swinging.

This was the first time he had really been vulnerable.

Getting up, you sighed and ran your fingers through your hair, taking a deep breath before slowly standing up and stretching your back. Padding out into the dark hallway, only the soft beep and whine of Charlie's medical devices to accompany the low lighting as you made your way down the stairs and to the kitchen, hoping to grab a glass of water and take it back up with you.

Instead, you found Henry Emily in his kitchen, fridge door open as he poked around inside it. His face ghostly in the blue LED from inside as he glanced up, eyes unfocused for a moment before he seemed to gain some clarity and smile at you.

"You're up late, young miss." Chuckling as you rubbed the back of your neck and gestured somewhat loosely to himself.

"Same could be said for you, Mr. Emily."

"Please, call me Henry. I appologise for not telling you you could earlier. I just..." he seemed lost for words as you both looked at each other for a moment before you piped up.

"Had a lot on your mind?" The older man smiled and nodded his greying curled head.

"Yes. Probably the best way to put it. Please, take a seat, I'll make some proper tea." Your stomach turned at the thought of more incipid tea, and you shook your head lightly. Henry chuckling as he moved carefully to one wall and flicked on the light switch, taking your sight for a few blinks. "At least let me make you proper tea, I realised after you went up to see Charlie how bad it was. I'm surprised you drank it at all."

Your shoulders relaxed an unknown tension in them. Despite the fact that Henry had seemed so full of rage and sorrow before, he felt more like a dad now as he shuffled around the kitchen and boiled some water in a kettle on the stove. The warm light of the aged kitchen making you think to your grandparents house that you used to visit when you were small. Somebody was always in there, making something that smelt great, and the light was always some form of sickly yellow.

He placed a mug down after a few moments and he held ones in his frail hands too, the banding across his knuckles telling you that despite his age, he was once a strong man. Perhaps not as strong as William looked, but he seemed to have been healthy and fit, once upon a time. Sipping the new drink, you were pleasantly surprised that it had a spice to it, sipping it again and your brow furrowing as you realised that there was cinnamon in the tea.

"Oh, I must have used the cinnamon sugar! I'm so sorry, I can make it again, it's how Charlie likes....liked...it." his lips pursed as he trailed off, the years catching up with him once again as you reached your hand out and gently held onto one of his cooler ones.

"It's nice...It seems like Charlie has some good taste." Henry smiled and he chuckled softly, his thumb idly stroking over your knuckles and you weren't sure whether he was trying to soothe himself or you. But you were sure that in that moment, but you felt like you really were being soothed by a parent.

"Yes, I know I'm biased since she's my little girl, but she was always a special girl." Swallowing thickly, he glanced up at you and held onto your hands with both of his, giving you a warm smile. "I wish she could see William again one more time, she adored him growing up."

You weren't sure how to react. You knew that William had killed probably killed children before thanks to the ghosts of Freddy's that seemed to haunt the animatronics, but they had never mentioned knowing him. This felt different. You weren't sure that Afton was capable of leaving somebody alive unless they owed him something, but Charlie...He seemed almost surprised that she was alive, like he hadn't expected her to be.

And then there was her request.

"I'm sure they were close." A tactful response, rather than the thoughts that wanted to spill from your lips.

"They were...and I know William would want to kill the bastard that did this to her." There was something icy in his voice that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and your heart begin to race in your chest. Despite his initial anger at William, the confusion, the hurt, he still sounded somewhat warm beneath it all.

"P-Pardon?"

"They said it was an animal attack, but Charlie had barely an defensive wounds. I love her, but she was a trusting child." The venom slowly creeped into his voice as his grip tightened on your hands, his knuckles turning white as you realised that despite looking older he had maintained quite a lot of his strength.

"Henry..." The older man's eyes began to well up with tears, loosening his grip on you as you stood and came around the kitchen table, gently hugging him to your side and soothing his curly hair as he began to cry silently.

"Will..He was my best friend..And he disappeared when I needed him, and then he turned up and I just..."

"I get it, it must be hard to see him after all this time." You didn't get it though, you had assumed initially that perhaps William had maintained contact with the man he had brought the both of you to. But all you were finding was that William Afton left people broken in his wake, even before he was a monster.

Henry clung to you like your life depended on it. Like he couldn't bear to lose another daughter. Your t-shirt that you had changed into for bed was stained with tears before he seemed to take a few shaking breaths and look up at you. Frowning as he seemed to notice something whilst looking into your face, flinching slightly when his hand reached up and brushed against your ear. You'd forgotten that Will had bitten your ear whilst at the mall on the way to visit Henry, and you could feel the small puncture in the skin and cartilage catching on his rough fingertips. Heart racing in your chest as he seemed to notice the faint scarring on the inside of your wrist, the four pointed bite mark on your neck from where Will had bitten you during your 'thanks' for saving him.

Suddenly, why Will had wanted you to wear a turtle-neck made sense.

"I'm very clumsy! Don't know how Will puts up with me." Chuckling nervously as you reached up to rub your shoulder, inadvertently touching where Michael had nearly drained you dry what felt like a lifetime ago, but really may have only been weeks. Swallowing down the nerves, you offered Henry a large smile, watching the old man blink in confusion before giving you a soft, concerned smile back.

"Will...Has always been unique." He said, making you furrow your brow in confusion, watching as Henry gently patted your arm and stroked it for a moment. "As long as you're being safe. Maybe eat some broccoli? You're looking a bit anaemic."

Henry stood slowly, holding onto you and the table for support before he grabbed his tea and made his way towards the stairs, slowly sipping at the warm drink and leaving you standing in his kitchen, the yellow light casting what felt like a sickly glow onto you as you picked up your own drink and took a few more sips before taking it up stairs with you.

His comment had shaken you slightly, and you couldn't help the sinking feeling that Henry Emily knew more than he was letting on.

In the morning, you could hear pottering about downstairs and so you headed down. Glancing into Charlie's room and noticing she had been moved out of bed and dressed, loose comfy clothes that wouldn't hinder her care as she stared wordlessly at the TV playing some kids programme. You could vaguely make out the ghost lingering nearby to her body, prompting you to go inside and change the channel over to something a little more her age before heading back to your room when you realised you should cover up again.

'Thank you.'

You got changed quickly, finding the pile of clothes you had left on the floor and giving them a quick sniff before pulling them back on. Padding back down the stairs, you noticed Henry pottering about once again. He seemed calmer this morning, unlike what was really a precious few hours ago, and that concerned you greatly. His curly head turned towards you and he had that same fatherly smile on his face as he lifted a pan filled with bacon, eggs and what smelt like fried bread.

"Morning sunshine! I've made breakfast for you." You were clearly over thinking, perhaps he was substituting you for Charlie in his mind, but you didn't blame him. You'd spotted photos of his family in the lounge before, a happy one, a wife with blonde hair and a bright smile. Charlie beaming at the camera. You'd also noted the obituary, paper yellowed with age and sun exposure, tucked behind a photo of his wife.

"Oh, thank you Henry, you didn't have to." Sitting down at the breakfast table, you went to sit with your back to the door, but Henry shook his head and gestured to the seat on the left. The one that looked the least worn down.

"I did! It's been a while since I've been able to cook for somebody and I have to get you to try this. Sorry about the chair, my mother always said bad things happened to people who sit in doorways." It seemed like a strange superstition, but you supposed that there were many cultures and personal experiences that shaped them.

You were just happy to oblige as Henry piled your plate up with fried goods that William would never let you eat in a million years, and poured you some apple juice.

The bacon and eggs were even arranged into a smiley face on your plate.

You heard footsteps coming through the house and turned your head to see William entering the kitchen, his hair perfectly slicked back and wearing his shirt that he'd had on the day before, minus the sweater. His golden aviators sat a little low on his nose as he pushed them up, Henry giving him the same warm smile. You noticed then that there were only two plates of food dished up, and you felt an intense guilt in your stomach that Henry could probably only afford to feed you and William since Charlie undoubtedly had expensive medical bills. His smile fading as he gestured to William's glasses with a frown.

"You've got something on them." Will frowned back and you saw his eyes moving about like he was looking for the dirt that Henry had pointed out.

"Where?"

"Right there, don't you see it?" Will shook his head and reached up to pick his glasses off of his face, squinting as he held them up to the light.

"Might as well clean them, but I can't see shit on them." Sighing as he moved his glasses to the bottom of his shirt, untucking one corner from his waistband and moving to clean them with the fabric. You couldn't help but smile, they were like an old married couple in their own way, and part of you wished that you had known them back in the days of Freddy's so you could see them working together.

That thought was broken when a pan went sailing at William's head.

You heard Afton swear as the heavy 'thunk' of the cast iron hitting him square in the face, blinking rapidly and stumbling back as with surprising grace and speed for an old man, Henry Emily vaulted part of the table and landed on top of his old business partner. Pounding into him with a flurry of fists and fury, you could hear the meaty 'thud' of flesh hitting flesh already.

It took you a few seconds to react to it all, brain short-circuiting as you tried to process what was happening. William's hands moved up and he was scrambling to push off Henry, but you could hear the sound getting wetter and noticed a bit of blood splattering across the tiled floor. A cold spot behind you told you that Charlie had decided to come and watch as you managed to peel yourself off of the chair and rush forwards.

"Henry!" Calling his name as you wrapped your arms around his torso and tried to pull him off, grunting at the unexpected work-out of trying to remove a very angry human man off of the vampire. You could hear William growling and his hands flailed, legs scrambling for purchase on the floor as Henry began to slow down, landing a few more blows before sitting back on his heels. Breathing laboured.

Will's face was swollen and you could see there was the start of two rapidly developing black eyes and a broken nose, skin mottled and bruised as you noticed the split lip and nose-bleed. Henry's knuckles were bleeding too as he stood up and headed over to the sink like nothing had just happened.

"William!" You called out, shaking his shoulders and hearing the vampire groan as one eye fluttered open. Unsteady and unfocused as he gripped onto your arm tightly enough you knew there would be more bruises later on. Shuffling so that his head rested on your lap, you looked up at Henry, eyes wide in shock and horror. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"He'll be fine." Was the calm reply, the man bringing a first aid kit down from a cabinet and opening it to retrieve some sterilised alcohol to clean his knuckles up with.

"You've beaten him, of course he's not going to be fine! Fuck I don't-"

"And yet, you're not worried enough about him to call an ambulance."

The silence that hung in the air for a beat was intensely uncomfortable, it felt almost like ozone settling around your skin. Henry was staring intently, hyper-focused on you as you realised he had caught you in a lie you didn't even know existed. You didn't know how William felt about hospitals, whether he would flag up as something not human when they performed tests, but he was still healing from the springlock failure and he was slow to heal from relatively minor wounds compared to what you'd seen from two vampires fighting.

William took a few shuddering breaths as he seemed to gain his bearings, slowly sitting up with your help and nose dripping blood as he reached for his glasses on the floor. Wiping them with a clean part of his shirt and putting them back on his nose, reaching it up and hooking two fingers into his nostrils before using the other hand to crunch it back into place. Sniffing deeply afterwards as his slowly swelling eye focused on Henry.

"Bastard, the fuck was that?" His own breathing laboured as he reeled from the ambush by his best friend.

"I've only seen those four points that your friend here has on her shoulder once before, do you know when that was?" Henry queried as he put down the alcohol and picked up some bandages, wrapping them slowly around his shaking hands to protect them.

"What marks, I don't know what you're-"

"Oh, but you do William. You know, I thought at first it might be co-incidence. Charlie gets hurt after you go missing for two days, you disappear again two weeks later after your youngest dies. Michael shortly after that along with Elizabeth. But then you come back twenty years later, and so do those marks."

It took your brain a moment to tick over, but it snapped into place all too quickly as you felt yourself blanching.

"Charlie. They were on Charlie." You whisper, watching as Henry shifted his attention from his hands to you as he nodded, with the same fatherly smile he had given you when he was serving eggs. William looked startled and you could see the gears turning in his own head as he looked at Henry. A million and one little expressions flickering across his features.

"Hers were much deeper, and a lot more jagged of course. Tore half the back of her neck out, crushed part of her spine, but the doctors said it all came down to six points of contact. Four on top, two on bottom." He picked up the plate that had been left on the table and brought it in front of him, looking at the selection of knocked over condiments and straightening them up after he had vaulted the table.

"I don't know what you're-" William began, but Henry sucked on his teeth and tutted, shaking his head at the man slowly trying to stand and supporting himself on the chair so that he could sit down.

"You do William Afton. I know what you are." The tone was so cold once again, but the cold air surrounding you didn't help either as you tried to control your shivering. William blinking slowly and unsurely up at his friend before he curled up his lip into a snarling growl. Bloody spittle coating his now very visible fangs, the double set you were more than acquainted with. Henry's expression softened a little as he watched his former business partner growling ferally. "There you are. I knew you would never tell me."

"Henry?" You asked, confused by the last bit of his statement before the older man got up and walked over to the fridge, rummaging around like he had been the night before and throwing something to William, who managed to catch it despite the fact his face was slowly reducing the swelling, leaving behind some bruised and blood-shot eyes staring angrily before his attention flickered to what was in his hand.

"I suspected something about him had changed back in eighty-seven, after Charlie was attacked, he was acting strange. Speed walking from the room if a kid so much as fell and scraped a knee, wearing sunglasses through the light-shows or if he was outside. Never taking his lunch, or if he did, I noticed there was half-chewed food in the trashcan nearby soon after." Henry explained, and you listened, realising that Henry had known something was wrong with William since the attack. He more than likely had his own suspicions about his involvement in Charlie's attack.

Hearing gulping next to you, your eyes widened as William slammed a glass bottle down onto the table, the thick claret inside clinging to the glass as you watched his face slowly returning to normal. Well, as slowly as William Afton could heal.

"So you decide to beat fuck out of me to test your stupid theory?" William growled, and Henry shrugged his shoulders, beginning to tuck into the breakfast before him.

"Oh? No, that was for Charlie, and it felt damn good." Nochelant as you stared incredulously between them, wondering why and where Henry got glass bottles of blood from, how long had he had them. "Figured it was better twenty years late than never."

"Well, at least I know you're keeping yourself in good health." Afton brought the bottle to his lips again and drank from it like it was a cold beer at a BBQ. You were still shaking and incredulous.

"Sorry, what? How would you...oh." The realisation set in as you looked at Henry, who did seem a little paler in the yellow kitchen light than you remembered being the night before. "Did you ...just so you could...?"

"Oh, yes. I know you would never have intentionally hurt Charlie, Wills, but you understand, I had to do something."

"How do you know it wasn't intentional?"

"Because of the times I caught you at the hospital despite the lights hurting your eyes, by her bedside and holding her hand. Telling her 'I will put you back together'." Henry said softly, and you watched as William stiffened before his expression softened too. The two men either side of that small kitchen table, Henry sat so he was blocking the daylight from the window behind him getting into William's bruised face. It almost looked like a halo from where you sat.

The clock in the lounge ticked by for a while as nobody said anything else. William occasionally drinking and Henry eating his breakfast, you picked at yours, heart racing as you wondered if another fight was going to break out between the two of them.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, Henry." William eventually spoke, making you jump slightly as Emily paused and looked up at him too. Raising an eyebrow as if to prompt him on, Afton sighed before continuing. "I...I didn't mean to hurt Charlie. And one day, when...when this is all done, I'll tell you my reasons. But I will hold myself to that promise."

The vampire slowly stood and began trudging back through the house, leaving you and Henry in the kitchen as you stared at his broad back. Wondering how he was going to fufil his promise, you wondered if he was going to end the fact she was trapped between life and death. Wondering how Henry would take having to bury his daughter.

"You're right. I don't forgive you. I just wish you had enough trust in me all those years ago to tell me."

William nodded his head and carried on, you stood up to go after him, but Henry gently pulled down your arm and forced you to sit.

"Leave the demon to his demons. Rest, find peace." He murmured, waiting for you to nod before he let go of your arm and you couldn't help but wonder how much of this mess was all your fault.

#william afton #william afton x reader #steve raglan #springtrap #steve raglan x reader #fnaf movie #springtrap x reader #william afton x you #fnaf x reader #william afton smut #vampire william afton #monster au

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fujii-draws · 11 months ago

Text

Regrets

Summary: As golden orbs of light brought an end to Dusknoir’s existence; he’s confronted with a thought. One he’d long been avoiding since the day he arrived in the world of the past, and came in contact with two young, small Pokémon. The same two he’d eventually come to grow fond of, only to betray as part of his mission. As he’s forced to finally confront it in his isolation, Dusknoir finds himself coming to an epiphany. One he’d been denying for a very, very long time.

[Word count: 2130]

–––––––––––––––––––––

‘Aimilios... Ribbons...’ The ghost type melancholically lamented to himself. ‘They… did it….’

The black, paralyzed skies had begun to shift as the morning came. Rays of light hit the ghost type’s body; although numb, even he’d felt the warmth of the sun course through him. Time was finally moving again… and all Dusknoir could do was helplessly watch as his body faded; the light bringing an end to his existence.

Dusknoir cannot describe the emotions he’s feeling. Proud…? Accomplished…? Fearful….?

Damn it all. Arceus… if only he’d realized the mistake he was making. If only he’d defied Primal Dialga and had his change of heart sooner… perhaps those two would’ve still…. The three of them could’ve been-

No.

It’s over.

He ruined it.

…Dusknoir turns his head slowly, his gaze falling on to Grovyle; the reason he decided to go against Primal Dialga’s wishes in the first place. The reason he lived; for what would perhaps be the first time in ages… Had it not been for his speech back at the icicle pillars…Dusknoir doesn’t even want to think of the calamity that would’ve ensued. He continues to stare at the slowly disappearing grass-type, almost thoughtful.

“Grovyle…”

The grass-type’s eyes meet the black specter’s pained expression.

“My M-my life… Did it shine….?”

Dusknoir wanted to hear it from Grovyle. He wouldn’t feel satisfied, or even happy hearing it from himself. The ghost’s self-hatred was deep rooted enough as it was. Especially after all of what he had done. He needed a second opinion.

“…Yes.” The lizard Pokémon smiles, softly reassuring Dusknoir in what would be his final moments. “…Extraordinarily.”

…Dusknoir, despite not believing Grovyle, chooses to do so. Offering a small smile back at his old friend. “Grovyle… Thanks to you…..”

He pauses.

“…I have no regrets.”

…Dusknoir starts to feel himself slipping away completely; his physical form fading into illuminated lights in the sky as he draws his final breath… His death is almost comforting... At least- it would’ve been, had he made peace with his unspoken feelings… towards them. Even when he’s disappearing. Even when he’s dying…

He still couldn’t tell the truth.

One regret.

He had all but one.

…And now, he’ll never see them again. Never be able to tell them how sorry he was. Never be able to tell those two how much they meant to him… what they actually meant to him.

How foolish was he…? To get attached like this…? To care so much about their futures as well as his…? ..He couldn’t even admit how much they mattered to him in his final moments… Dusknoir grunts. really is just a liar, isn’t he? And that’s all the two will remember him for. Their scornful expressions when he’d laughed at their misery during their confrontation in the future. Their looks of betrayal. Tears rolled down the eevee and riolu’s faces as they unhinged their claws and teeth at Dusknoir. To think at the time, he found their reactions simply hysterical…

——————

“YOU LIAR..!”

“W-WE TRUSTED YOU..!”

“Pray tell… who’s fault is that?” Dusknoir sneered. “Not once had I asked for your background, or your names.”

Dusknoir began to float menacingly towards Aimilios. “Last I recall, you were responsible for your own partner’s downfall.”

“I-I….”

“LEAVE HIM ALONE…!!”

——————

…Now all he feels is a sharp pain stabbing through his chest recalling that horrible memory.

If there was a heaven or hell; the latter would be awaiting him right about now.

Speaking of…

Dusknoir opens his eye, attempting to browse his uncanny surroundings. What meets the ghost-type is… emptiness?

“…What on earth..?” His eye wanders down to his body.

…He appears in what looks like a pitch-black void. Dusknoir himself would’ve blended right in with the endless abyss had it not been for the yellow outlines distinguishing the features of his silhouette-like shadow… the same exact hue of yellow lights that’d been responsible for his disappearance moments ago… it’s almost as if he’d become a ghost all over again... He’d find the circumstances slightly amusing had it not been for his current dilemma. Dusknoir stares at his golden-laced hand, before contemplating something.

‘…Perhaps..’ Dusknoir thinks to himself. ‘Perhaps… it’s better this way…’ He knows it’s selfish. He knows he’s being a coward. But… now he doesn’t have to face Ribbons and Aimilios. He doesn’t have to look at those same faces that once revered him with such adoration; now fear, in the eyes… And yet… The thought of never seeing those two again… why does the thought bring him so much unnecessary pain? They were only means to an end to begin with- so why does he even CARE?!

“…GWOOH.. GWOOOOH..!!!” The ghost-type’s head begins to throb uncontrollably; Dusknoir clutches his head; nearly identical to how he did when breaking down in the midst of Grovyle’s speech. He clutches his temple harder in a feeble attempt to satiate the pain. Why couldn’t he just stop…? He’d tried so hard to detach himself from Ribbons and Aimilios once he realized who they were... Yet like a complete and utter fool; he stayed close. So close to an eevee and riolu he was ordered to execute. Why couldn’t he just forget about those two…? It would hurt so much less. They were means to an end to begin with- so WHY?!

“B-BLAST IT..!”

He slams both of his fists on the onyx colored ground beneath him in frustration. The yellow outlines of his body begin to glow violently as he draws heavy, shallow breaths.

…Dusknoir is suddenly plagued with a memory- of those two. He… remembers the eevee and riolu smiling widely; at him no less. It was… around the time when he��d referred to them as his ‘friends’. A mere front to gain their trust. Dusknoir recounts just how overjoyed they looked… and how that happiness made something in his chest hurt for a split second. He didn’t have to give them false hope. He didn’t have to play this ruse as far as he did… and yet. There was a small, foolish part of him that genuinely enjoyed it; and an even smaller part of him that knew he’d regret it.

————————

“You mean it?!” The riolu beamed. “You’ll really help us?!”

“But of course!” Dusknoir smiled, placing a hand on his chest. “I offer you two, my full cooperation!”

Dusknoir watched as the two Pokémon whip their heads towards eachother; almost trying to confirm the other’s disbelief. They look back at him; tails wagging rapidly in unison— before Ribbons excitedly jumps onto the ghost-type. Dusknoir nearly stumbles from just how sudden it was. Despite this, he catches her with his quick reflexes.

“Thank you thank you thank you!!!” Ribbons cheered. “You have no idea how much this means to us!”

Dusknoir recollected himself; before putting a hand on each of the overjoyous Pokémon’s heads.

“I’m… glad to hear. Truly.” A lie, obviously…but even he couldn’t help but smile a little at their shared enthusiasm.

“By golly..! Huff… huff…”

All three of the Pokémon had turned their heads to the out-of-breath Bidoof. Dusknoir immediately put Ribbons and Aimilios down; a slightly embarrassed blush crossing the ghost’s face as he brushed himself off coughing, returning to his more professional, stoic-like persona.

———————————

…He didn’t have to play with their emotions. He could’ve just as easily stayed acquaintances- kept his distance- but no. He just had to enjoy spending time with them. He had to get closer to them. He had to remember their favorite foods. To enjoy laughing with them until his stomach became sore, protecting them, watching over them, loving them as if they were…

Were…

…Dusknoir can’t help but hold his hand under his eye. He… he really did care those two... As if they were his own… his own…

“….Hoh…”

His train of thought comes to a complete halt. The idea of those two? Seeing him that way? After what he had done? After the horrible things he’s said…?

“Ho..Hohohaha..! HOHOHOHA-HA-HA-HA!”

His laughter becomes more and more erratic; holding one hand under his eye as the other grips his head- his cackles echoing into the never ending void.

“HAH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahaa…!“

Dusknoir’s broken laughter echoes throughout the void; until there’s nothing left but silence. Both of Dusknoir’s hands now cover his face as he crumbles to the ground. A shell of what was once the ‘Great Dusknoir’… was nothing more but the husk of a broken ghost. Too selfish and weak to do the right thing; and stand by the only two Pokémon who were willing to trust him with their lives… He wishes the endless abyss he was in would just swallow him already.

“Aimilios…Ribbons…” Dusknoir’s voice cracks; calling out for the ones he’d hurt.

…They deserved so much better than him. He didn’t deserve them. And to think in the beginning, they’d been the ones who were trying to prove themselves to be worthy of him... When it’d been the other way around this entire time. How ironic.

How absolutely ironic.

…Which reminds him-

“Ribbons…!” His head shoots up in a panic; his eye filled with worry.

She had already disappeared at this point, didn’t she..? In front of Aimilios no less..? He can’t even begin to fathom how horrible it must’ve been for both of them… at such young ages… maybe if he’d assisted them on their perilous journey to Temporal Tower…. he could’ve been there to remedy the weight of their situation… but of course instead, he used it in a pathetic attempt to beg for his life. Dumping everything onto Ribbons in a last ditch effort to save his own ghostly skin… in the small desperate hope she’d finally understand why he…

…Selfish.

So selfish.

Of course his train of thought immediately went straight back to him. He can’t think about anyone’s wellbeing except for his own. His ‘self preservation’. His ‘life’. Nevermind all of the Pokémon he was going to deny the futures of. He was at risk. So they all had to pay for it. Because of his cowardice.

This was his atonement.

He deserved this.

Dusknoir closes his eye. Maybe in his next life he’ll be a decent Pokémon. One worthy of respect. Of adoration.

Of love.

“Gah...”

Dusknoir groans. Why does it feel so cold all of a sudden..?

Wait.. cold?

He sees… ice… and feels… wind?

‘…What..?’

He slowly gets up; using his hands to suspend himself in the air. He looks around- only to see himself back.

Back on the mountain.

He stares at his hands for an indeterminate amount of time before they begin to tremble. His expression contorted into one of self-loathing and confusion.

“W-we’re still here…” His fingers curl into fists.

“I didn’t disappear…! Wh-Why?!”

Dusknoir shouts; almost disgusted by the fact he was revived- rather than questioning how it was even possible in the first place. No. He doesn’t- He shouldn’t be here. It must’ve been some kind of mistake… That’s it. There’s no other logical explanation for why he should be still here. Perhaps the higher being that brought him back into this world will immediately realize their error, and make swift work of him.

“We… we truly are still here…” Grovyle lamented, breathing a sigh of what would be an overwhelming rush relief. Celebi begins to flutter her wings happily around the grass-type.

“Wonderful!! I don’t know why we were fading and didn’t disappear…” She twirls, overjoyous now having gained all her strength back. “…But everyone is safe!! Oh my beloved..! Isn’t this just an amazing wonderful thing?!”

Grovyle chuckles heartedly. “It is.”

Unfortunately among the three; the ghost type was not experiencing the same joy as the grass type pokemon. Dusknoir had been drowning out half of their words of cheer and relief with thoughts of contempt. Self-depricational thoughts clouded the ghost-type’s mind as he kept searching for logical answers for his revival… Everyone else made sense. But why him of all Pokémon..?!

“Why..? Wh-Why me..?” Dusknoir whispered to himself dejectedly; mirroring his words from when his Sableye ‘betrayed’ him.

The only difference being how genuine it was.

Pr- Dialga had appeared to explain the whole situation to the trio. Once that had been done, Grovyle, and Celebi walked and flew individually near the edge of the mountain to feel the sun on their skins; their accomplishments finally having been paid off, soaking in the sun…

……Dusknoir, however; had stayed in the exact spot he’d been revived. His thoughts plagued him. This was not his victory. This was not for him to enjoy. What was he to do now..? Live his life as if nothing happened..? As if he didn’t hurt countless Pokémon..? Guilt had almost immediately begun to eat away at the ghost-type. He looks down at his hands one last time... Perhaps death would’ve been too good for a despicable Pokémon such as himself. The torment of being alive, and living with what he had done seemed like a fitting and ironic enough punishment… but that wasn’t what truly scared him.

Far from it, in fact.

Without a doubt in Dusknoir’s mind; Grovyle and Celebi would want to return back to the past… perhaps not this very instant; but at a given point. And when that time finally arrives…

Dusknoir stares at the Passage of Time facing him. Almost mocking him.

…He’d have to face them.

“…” Dusknoir clenches his fists tightly; his brow furrowing.

…The mere thought of confronting those two again- No no no no no. He- he should have disappeared. Death would’ve been a mercy. He can’t face them- not again. Looking at the same two children he tried to slaughter with his bare hands mere hours ago face-to-face..? Dusknoir’s fists tremble as his terror consumes him. What would they say..? Let alone think..? They’d run at the mere sight of him. He…

He doesn’t want to scare them.

He doesn’t want to hurt them.

He..

…Now he has something else to be afraid of.

#pmd eos #pmd writing tag #Another Dusknoir-centric fic I worked on!!! :D I hope you like it!!#this took me like a week on and off #also second time writing!! YIPPEE!!!#I’m still not as good but I’m still having lots of fun and learning !!#anyways. I need to see that old man on the floor writhing in agony.#/j BUT YKNOW #dadnoir

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lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love · 1 year ago

Note

may I request an Danny phantom x reader I’m not sure if u see that one episode of Danny phantom d-stabilized where the reader is half ghost like Danny but she unstable in her ghost form (like in the episode Dani was) and she trying to find Danny before Vlad catches her and maybe she gets capture and Danny has to save her maybe reader slowly dying .I hope this sense

Can u add a bit fluff angst to mix aslo this romantic fic since Danny like the reader anyways I love this show sm aslo take as much time as u need no worries

Notes: I’d like to thank @supernerdycookietrashblr for the request & I hope you enjoy it! This ain’t my best work and I’d like to apologize. I’m gonna make a part 2 of this if that’s okay.

I don’t own any of the gifs/pictures used.

Warnings: Half-ghost!r is unstable, some angst, possible romantic feelings, spelling/grammatical errors, anything else I failed to mention

Word Count: TBD (give or take)

Masterlist: Click Here & Here

You have heard all about the Fenton boy, Danny. The half-ghost kid who refused power and wealth for his family. The stubborn child who couldn’t see past Jack’s idiocy. And you had to wonder: Was Danny really in the wrong? This Jack Fenton guy was his father; why is Danny defending his father so bad? If anything, it should show what kind of person he is; good.

But your “father” didn’t see it that way.

Danny’s constant rejections had started to pile up. Your “father” was beginning to lose his patience. The continual reminder that Jack Fenton had a family with the woman of your “father’s” dreams had reached its boiling point.

Your “father” was desperate in his attempts for the perfect half-ghost son. Instead of using Danny’s DNA, your “father” opted to use his own. Round two turned into another string of failures. Even you were considered a failure. Not only were you a girl, but you couldn’t even maintain your ghost half for very long.

He wasn’t very happy with that.

You’d escaped, but the longer you stayed as a ghost, flying from Wisconsin to Amity Park, the weaker you became. You saw ectoplasm starting to drip from your form; your body was destabilizing before your very eyes.

But you had to go a little further. If you didn’t, he’d find you and you’d be done for. You didn’t want to die; but if you stayed in your ghost form for too long you’d become a pile of ectoplasm. If you stopped even for a second to recuperate you’d be captured, dissected and melted down into a pile of ectoplasm. Either way, you’d be dead.

So you kept pushing, even when your vision blurred. Even when your body began to burn and your head started pounding.

And then everything went black.

When you woke up, you were lying on a bed in a room you didn’t recognize. You felt your heart drop. As desperately as you wanted to believe this was a good thing, you couldn’t for the life of you believe it. Slowly sitting up, you wince at the splitting pain going through your head.

You jumped at the sound of the bedroom door opening. The sound practically had you falling out of bed. You peered over and saw a dark-haired boy come in. He seemed about your age, with blue eyes and a leaner build. He seemed surprised and relieved to see you awake.

“Good, you’re awake,” he remarked.

“Where am I?” you stammered.

“My room.” He walked over and sat at the foot of the bed. You moved away from him. “I found you passed out just outside the city limits.”

The longer you looked at him, the more something began to click in your mind. Familiarity. But how? Why was he so familiar? You’ve never met him before—or have you? You chewed on the inside of your cheek, brows furrowing as you regarded him more closely.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I just—” Then it clicked. “You’re the ghost boy!”

He paled, eyes widening as he stood up from his bed, taking a step away as if you’d burnt him. “Who are you?” he asked shakily.

“I need your help,” you exclaimed, standing up. Your body ached, remnants of the pain you felt earlier. “Please—he’s going to kill me.”

“Who?” he asked, swallowing thickly. “Who’s going to kill you?”

“My father.” You felt a shiver run up your spine—mere thought of him making fear bubble in you. “He’s going to kill me. I didn’t turn out the way he wanted.”

His brows furrowed. You saw reluctance swirling his blue eyes, mixing with the curiosity and worry over your words.

“I’m half-ghost,” you stated. “He wanted a son but I—” You motioned to yourself. “He doesn’t want this.”

You see realization come across his face before it twists into anger.

“My father told me about you,” you added softly, “how he tried taking your morph DNA. There was another girl like me, but made from you. I’m made from him, but my ghost half is unstable. I’ll die if I stay in that form for too long.”

You see him eye you, looking for something—what it is you’re not sure. But you let him study you. You just hope whatever he finds is good, or at least lets him agree to help you.

After a long, almost drawn-out pause, he nods. “You’ll be safe here,” he states firmly. “Vlad won’t get you.”

You give him a soft smile and nod. You feel a warmth in your chest at the honesty of his words. But deep down you prepare yourself for the worst. Just as a precaution.

#danny phantom x reader #danny fenton x reader #danny fenton #vlad masters #danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #fanfiction #tw: slight angst #tw: dying

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camille-lachenille · 10 months ago

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End of the Year Fic Rec

I was tagged by @echo-bleu and @dreamingthroughthenoise and it was very difficult to select only five fics for each category but here's my Must Read fanfics list, mostly Silmarillion but with a few LotR and one Hobbit. Also, I cheated at some point so you have one more fic rec as a treat

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

We will make this place our home by @leucisticpuffin

Summary: Elrond and Elros are sent to live with their distant cousins in a house that is crumbling slowly to pieces. They aren't especially happy about this. For Maedhros and Maglor, the twins are a rare chance to start living again.

Why you should read it: This is a whimsical, heartwarming yet bittersweet at times story about finding one’s place in a new world and what makes a family, grappling with the ghosts of the past and the pain of being a child left behind. Also the most exquisitely written modern AU (the style is just chef's kiss!) I’ve read so far, 100% recommend it!

Maglor is an Eldritch Horror by @thescrapwitch

Summary: After thousands of years singing to the sea, Maglor has become something strange and terrifying. But he still loves his family, and his family still loves him.

Why you should read it: Sometimes, family is a Half-Elf, his wife, their children, a shy and whimsical bard and the Eldritch kidnap grandfather who haunts the house; or how to write slightly creepy fluff. This series is pure heartwarming material and giving Elrond the happiness he desserves.

The Day the Horse-Lord wed the Lady of the Seas by @colinnoahmayhare (rated M)

Summary: After the War of the Ring, Lothíriel, Princess of Dol Amroth, finds herself at the receiving end of the search for peace and prosperity by being used as a pawn in an alliance made between kings and princes. Married to the King of the Riddermark, Éomer, she has to navigate being a foreigner in a foreign country, being a Queen to a King, and to learn to live and love with a man she hardly knows.

Why you should read it: This story is an intricate, gut wrenching exploration of what happens in Rohan after the War of the Ring, featuring delightful worldbuilding, lots of politics, revenge and honour. Now with Familial TraumaTM and Couple AngstTM for extra flavour!

And the Stars Shine the Same by @runawaymun (rated M)

Summary: After the Éothéod revolt against the Wainriders, the northern tribes seek to form strong alliances with their neighbors. Lord Frumgar tasks his son Fram to lead the delegation to Imladris. With him, he brings gold, fine horses, and two young thralls chosen by his father to be given to Lord Elrond himself. Elrond is conflicted to say the least.

Why you should read it: Do you like pre-canon Third Age history? Do you like worldbuilding about a few names from the Appendixes of LotR? Do you like found family and Good Dad Elrond? Do you like complex characters learning how to live with their traumas? This story is for you! (Just mind the warnings in the tags)

The ghost you dress up as (knows how to haunt) by @deadqueernoldor (rated M)

Summary: Maedhros was not the first Finwëan to be captured and taken to Angband, nor did he remain there the longest. Ranyatinwë, twin of Caranthir, was the first.

Why you should read it: Tinwë is such a complex character, 50% spite and 50% trauma, and this whole story is so, so promising already! (Really, you should read all the Strength of our Bonds series for extra unhinged, spiteful and unrepentant kinslayer Tinwë. I support women’s rights but in Tinwë’s case I firmly support women’s wrongs). This is pure post-Angband angstfest and dysfunctional siblings caring for each other in their weird way. If angst can be a comfort story, I found it.

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Life in Miniature by @thescrapwitch

Summary: Turgon uses his hobby of building cities to recreate Gondolin, this time on a much smaller scale.

Why you should read it: For re-embodied Finwëan rebuilding their relationships as they work together on a miniature city; a heartwarming and really nice metaphor.

Hearth Fire by @dreamingthroughthenoise

Summary: Findis and Feanor speak before the Flight of the Noldor and share in their grief the best they can.

Why you should read it: Because there are so few stories centered around Findis and her feelings about her family and this one is so interesting and well written. Also, Findis is my Blorbo and everyone should read about her until they're consumed by the Blorbo.

your veins are empty of dust by @echo-bleu

Summary: Anairë finds her late one day in her workshop, surrounded by slabs of stone larger than her. Nerdanel is hammering forcefully at one of them, the barest hints of an elven shape already taking form in the marble. Bitter, stinging tears run down her cheeks and into her collar, and her arms ache with exhaustion.

The body is only barely sketched, but the face is already chiselled, smooth curves and angular cheekbones.

Fëanáro emerges out of the marble, looking like he’s about to take life.

Why you should read it: For a heartbreaking dive into Nerdanel's grief, her friendship with Anairë and how Nerdanel's art becomes her way to cope with loneliness and grief.

see it fall, child of war by @swanmaids

Summary: Elwing's time runs out.

Why you should read it: Because these may be the 740 most impactful words I've read about Elwing since I discovered the Silm fandom.

soldier keep on marching on (waiting on that morning sun) by songofswiftsunrise

Summary: Boromir lives. The world is the smallest bit brighter for it.

Why you should read it: Do I need a more convincing argument than what the summary says? Boromir lives and everyone is happier. I love a good fix-it and this one is very well written indeed.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies.)

The Carpenter’s Son by Zimra (rated M, warning for rape/non-con)

Summary: An untold story of conquered Dor-lómin, in which an Easterling carpenter has a child by his Hadorian slave.

Why you should read it: This story explores in a very interesting way a par of canon that is almost never mentionned (except in the Narn). The main character is attaching and I really cared for her and her son. The hindsights in the slavers' minds are chilling with their realism and this whole story is just so well written. Also, it ends on a note of hope.

And what I am needs no excuses by aurembiaux

Summary: Sam has always been in love with Frodo. It's only that it takes him forty years to realize that he is.

Why you should read it: Probably the most heartwarming and relatable self-discovery story I’ve ever read; set in England from the WWII to the 80’s, with all the social changes that happened in this time period. Featuring Supportive Dad (and Friend) Sam as the main character and a whole bunch of introspection. One of my all time comfort read!

Mark of a Warrior by starryeyedknight

Summary: After the funeral for Theoden, Merry wakes up to a problem experienced by many a young man after a night of heavy drinking. The ink on his arm doesn't appear to be washing off…

Why you should read it: This one shot explores the relationships Merry formed with the RIders of Rohan, the grief he has in common with them and how he found his place amongst the riders, all of this with delightful humour and lightness despite the initial situation.

Dancing with my punchlines by LiveOakWithMoss (rated M)

Summary: In which the sons of Fëanor throw house parties, the beer is terrible, 20-something hipster elves act like their drama is as bad as it is in canon, and macking on cousins is fair game.

Why you should read it: If you like a good old modern AU with tons of drama of various sorts, amazing ace representation and general Finwëans shenanigans, this is the story for you.

Old Maggie Took by @deadqueernoldor

Summary: The headcanon about Maglor, second son of Fëanor, lives hidden in the Shire? Yes.

Why you should read it: My ultimate comfort read series; featuring mouth-watering descriptions of food, kidnadopted fam and Maglor being an overgrown hobbit and trolling everyone in ME and Valinor. This is fluffy, this is silly, this is prefect.

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Dreams of Doom (rated M, warning for Major Character Death)

Summary: “She runs in the dark, alone. Where her feet carry her, she knows not, and her heart is heavy with dread. Someone - something - is watching her.”

Niënor from the moment she arrives in Brethil to her death.

Why you should read it: Because this fic is my firsborn child and I am insanely proud of it, especially since I went so out of my comfort zone to write it. It features two of my obscure blorbos and I poured my soul into it.

Ice Age(s)

Summary: Ice skating through the ages, from Idril learning with her grandfather to Elrond perpetuating the familial tradition.

Why you should read it: This is a fluffy fic, mostly, and it's also a gift for the amazing @echo-bleu. I also wrote it in a sort of trance in the middle of the night, passed out the moment I posted it and had no memory whatsoever of what I had written upon waking up in the morning, yet I still love this fic dearly.

I never wanted to walk in your steps

Summary: Tilda was ten, the same age Sigrid was at her birth, and her world was collapsing more than when Smaug had destroyed Laketown.

Why you should read it: Because I privately call this fic Hobbit angstfest. I took a sad, doomed ship and asked myself "how can I make it sadder?"

ar ámen apsenë úcaremmar

Summary: Few know of Findis the Faithful, eldest daughter of Finwë, who never lost hope for her family.

Why you should read it: I took my obscure blorbo and set her in a medieval-ish AU. It's sad and a little hopeful too and there's a lot of Quenya interspaced through the story.

Quiet morning in Gondolin

Summary: Idril and Eärendil spend some time together before the city wakes up.

Why you should read it: I'll put the link to the beautiful art that inspired this ficlet and let it speak for me.

And I tag everyone I tagged in this post who hasn’t already done this fics rec tag

#fic recs #tolkien #the silmarillion #the lord of the rings #the hobbit #long post

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trashlama · 2 years ago

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FUTURE RISE!LEO X READER

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Heyyyy-oooo it's me your guys favorite friendly pervy neighborhood consumer! Back with some more fics!

Yeaahh

Oh yeah I can totally sense your guys' excitement.

So this idea wasn't mine. I was lurking through the ROTTMNT fandom since recently I was too busy being dragged down the Record of Ragnarok fandom pit. It's like Hetalia all over again.

Anyways— I was lurking and came across one of my favorite creators ( @yanteetle ) that got a request for a fic. And like the idea was too good not to write a one-shot for it.

Like there was already a fic for it out there but, I thought I'd try my hand.

I really enjoyed writing this, I'll probably do another part except with the second idea with young Leo being little brother blocked by Casey Jr. cause Casey knows how Leo is with his future relationship with (y/n).

And maybe another one that has a different take on the first idea. But with a ✨ Age Gap✨. Cause man do I love myself a DILF.

Like brah there is no way you can't tell me future Leo isn't a DILF.

Anyways—

Enjoy the fic!

PICTURE NOT MINE! FOUND IT ON PINTEREST AND FELT LIKE IT WAS PERFECT-O

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Rushing water flooded the ancient channels that you were trudging through. The bottoms of your cargo pants were drenched despite being tucked into the openings of your pleather boots. Frigid rosey digits clung to the insides of the pockets to your cobalt colored coat. A shiver shot down your spine. Not from the chill of the down pour above you but rather, the ghost that didn't seem to want to leave you alone. Even now you were quite sure. Somewhere amongst the ruins of New York's sewer system, he was lurking. Never too far behind but, still too close for comfort.

You've been here for two years and five months in a few days according to the calendar that hung in your shared quarters. However you weren't planning on staying for the anniversary.

A brown satchel that hung from your shoulders carried all that you had for the perceived future until you could wrangle up some more scraps of rations from orphaned establishments on the road.

You weren't going back to the base. You refuse.

Onwards you marched. According to the directions Casey had given you it was just a little further until you reached a small opening that you would need to crawl through to get to the connecting manhole that would lead you straight out of the safe haven of the sewers and into the fry-pan of NYC city boundries. The teen even went as far as described an outpost just a couple miles Northwest towards New Jersey. Having scrambliled together a poorly drawn map of the terrain to gift you on your journey.

You and Casey both knew of the dangers there were trying to escape this place. Mutant or not. Though it didn't mean it was going to stop them from at least trying to free you from your gilded cage.

You had thanked the boy who had felt like a kid brother during your encampment at the base. Both shedding a tear for one another as you departed ways. Wishing the other luck as the world slowly continues to crumble around them. Unsure of the others fate.

The flashback helped to revitalize your will, spurring the need to flee as your pace began to pick up. Heart beat and foot falls mirroring another.

You didn't know how much longer you had before he caught up with you....

Speaking of the Devil.

A random splash not too far off sent you rocketing forward. Feet pounded through the stream of water lapping at your ankles. Unrelenting like the hunter that was behind you.

You didn't even want to look back. You feared if you did your knees would buckle at the very sight of his domineering form lunging for you.

Tokyo Drifting the corner, you spun to the left, a skirt of water splashing your legs once again, in further indirect efforts of creating a swimming pool in your boots.

He was fucking with you. You could tell.

If Leo was really being serious he would've captured you in his hold the moment he originally found you. Most likely had woken up due to the lack of your warm presence next to him in the cot you shared.

If you knew the red eared slider, which you felt at this point you did.

You knew he had been on your tail since the minute you left. Stepping foot outside the main body of the base.

°°°°°°°°°°°

"(Y/n)....? Honey...." Leo groaned half awake. It was the middle of the night and his body had suddenly woken him from the bliss of his dreams.

Tired olive hands searched the sheets for your figure...only to find the lack of it.

Dark eyes flew open.

You. Weren't. Here.

Out of the bed he sprung, eyes stabbed through the dark. Only to find the lack of you and your belongings that had been here when the two of you had gone to bed.

His mind flew into chaos at the realization however, unlike his adolescent self he was able to control his panic. He calmed his ragging breath remembering his father's sage advice to not let his feelings get the better of him. That it was unbecoming for a ninja and a leader.

Honestly Leo should've seen it coming.

He wasn't any genuis-boy Donnie by any means but, didn't mean Leo was a fool.

He had saw the signs for a while now.

Eagerly you'd volunteer for any job if it meant being at odd schedules with him. It didn't matter if it was patrol or scavenging, if it got you away from him, even for a little while, you did it.

When approached about it, you simply claimed that you wanted to be useful for The Resistance. Reassuring Leo that your desire for work came from your feelings of being needed rather than the lumbering turtle's overbearing presence being the cause behind your disappearing acts.

Leo being ever so observant would notice how your close comrades and Casey Jr. would also actively participate in these same runs with you.

Everytime.

Tigers gnawed at his stomach lining and baboons pounded in his chest when he thought about what they could be discussing. What they could be doing.

In the beginning you and Leo had been soooo close.

Since teenagers. He had known you even before you knew him.

He had saved you.

Him.

He was seventeen and feeling free. The Krrang hadn't attacked yet, he still had his arm, and Ralph wasn't dead.

You had been just another girl he came upon on a nightly patrol.

Beforehand he and Raph had gotten into another disagreement. Something stupid about him not being a team player and not listening to his comrades.

Whatever. Leo didn't care.

Leo was his own one-man show— he liked to believe. Although when the going got tough, he knew he had his brothers to fall back on. They relied on one another even if they didn't like to admit it all the time. They were children after all.

Squeaky sneakers and labored breaths filled the illuminated basketball court. Within the fenced primiters was a single girl shooting hoops. And not too badly for the self-proclaimed professional's standards if he did say so himself.

She kept herself grounded but, still agile. Launching the basketball from all the points lines, even the ones that have long since been faded by eroding weather and age. (h/l) (h/c) hair pulled back into a high poney tail that whipped around with her movements.

She was like a basketball ballerina dancing a Lebron James Swan Lake. It was ethereal.

Time passed like rain droplets down car windows. Before he knew it the similarly aged female was packing up getting ready to go. Obvious signs being the (2f/c)towel around her neck and the (f/c) sports jacket she threw on over her fitted tank top.

Alas Leo didn't have the right mojo to go pursue her. Nor the right disguise.

For the next few weeks(at least how long he felt it had been emotionally. He wasn't keeping track.) Leo would return to that same basketball court, eager to see the basketball ballerina again.

Sometimes she was there, sometimes not. When she was it typically was late, at least for human standards. And always alone. Leo felt for her but, didn't particularly mind since that meant there was no one to disturb the skilled performance.

The (y/c) haired girl would show up. Shoot some hoops for a while before walking away into the night.

Her (e/c) eyes always looked absent when she shot her baskets. Emotions didn't voice themselves on her neutral complexion. The only real thing that was direct about her was that she was focused with the task at hand. Which was shooting hoops.

Leo wasn't a hundred percent sure what led her to the rundown court almost every night but, he was grateful for the occurrence.

Until one night he wasn't.

Like the last few nights, the red eared slider teen came to the court to spectate his favorite four pointer dancer. Only to find a lack of her usual performance. Instead sat the empty eroding court.

It was two in the morning and his brothers would start wondering where he is soon.(Not that they weren't already curious where their blue bandana brother was going.) A light sprinkle had started to pick up overhead that pushed the olive turtle to call it night.

Standing up from the ledge the turtle was about to leap from his position but, only froze upon hearing laughter. Down below underneath the iridescent fluorescent lamps was you.

The obvious lack of your usual athletic attire suggested you weren't here to play basketball. Instead of a tank top with a pair of shorts; dark jeans hugged your hips complimented by a (2f/c) Lou Jitsu t-shirt and (f/c) sport jacket.

With said jacket you shielded yourself from the drizzle. The lighting made you look like you were glowing, the uncharacteristic smile on your face added to the image.

What broke the breath-taking view was by whom he assumed were your friends. The two of them ran after you into the court with their own grins plastered on their complexions.

The scene of the trio caused the red eared slider's stomach to bumble with jealousy. He wanted to be down there with you. The sound of your guys' conjoined laughter would make together would simply be the best. Leo didn't have a doubt about it.

If only.

For the next two hours the three humans ran through the city streets. Asphalt turned into water slides as they slid and skid. None of them aware of the mutant turtle following them from the rooftops.

By four, the other two humans who he learned names were Jonathan and Melissa(I know so unique) departed for the night.

(Y/n), as he overheard from your comrades, left to go your own way home.

Leo knew he shouldn't continue being out this late by himself. Especially without telling his brothers where. But, Leo couldn't pass up the chance to see where you lived.

By the time you got back to your apartment complex it was pushing five in the morning. Leo could make out from his spot hidden in the fire escape that you were an only child.

Apparent by the lack of anything in the unit. The only things that pointed towards any form of life were the pictures that hung on the plain beige walls.

Inside the cramped dingy apartment you procured yourself some top ramen before sitting on the old futon in the main room to watch some TV. Switching to a channel that played older movies.

Zapped onto the screen was an old Lou Jitsu film. The sight of the movie excited the red eared slider, hopeful thoughts of having similar interests made the monkey in his rib cage pound harder.

Before Leo knew it you were passed out with the remote in hand with the sun peeking out over the Manhattan bay.

Giving one last look towards you before retreating back into the sewers.

The following weeks passed by and Leo grew to like you more. Even if it's from a distance. Always excited when you appear whether it's on the court or in his dreams.

His heart was always so elated when he watched you perform. And the one time he's late of course some dumb delinquents want to mess up his usual date.

Upon arrival he could tell something was wrong right away. Your (f/c) bag sat on alone on the bench left halfway unzipped and abandoned. The ball you brought with you every time you came to the court was flattened and punctured.

Something was very wrong.

"Back off Creeps!"

It was your voice.

Leo not giving a moment's thought to the possibility of being seen by the public eye. Leapt from his perch down to the court.

Hidden off in the alleyway was you and a pair of petty thieves. One a mutant rooster the other just a normal ass-hat both dressed in stereotypical black attire.

"Shadap! If you'd just given us yer stupid wallet and phone from the start then we would've been gone already!" The rooster barked. His beak set in a displeased frown that matched his human accomplice's equally displeased sner.

Both were armed.

The human with a baseball bat, and the rooster with a small pocket knife.

Observing the scene, Leo quickly determined this would be a rather easy take down as long as he did it right.

"Stop the stallin' and give us yer cash!"

The rooster's feathers acting like fingers reached out for you. Instantly the rooster's right wing received a sudden shave.

"WTF!?" The avian mutant screeched using his left wing to clutch his clipped one to his chest.

Quick to defend from the unforeseen attack the human whipped around to swing his bat; .... only to find an empty space.

"What in the name of..."

"Aaghkk!" Straight in the face you had punched the rooster.

Leo swore his chest grew warmer at the action.

While Leo was temporarily distracted by your fists of fury, the ass-hat had swung at the olive-green turtle. Quickly the red eared slider dodged the attack to only return with his own. Easily slicing the bat into small unusable chunks.

Whilst Leo dealt with the ass-hat you fought the retaliating mutant chicken.

It was a somewhat fair fight considering the difference in DNA and physical capabilities.

You would've won too, had you not underestimated how strong a mutant chicken's punches were.

Next thing you knew you were K.O.ed. Your (H/c) head in a tizzy from bouncing your brain around in your cranium.

The blue bandana wearing turtle was not pleased by this.

The rooster gulped at the obvious displeasure emanating off the red eared slider. Not even having a chance to escape Leo swiftly knocked the chicken out before tying him up with his accomplice.

"Oh (Y/n).... I'm sorry I was late for the performance.." Leo apologized under his tired breath. Adoration gleamed in dark pools as he stared down at the object that plauged his dreams for last month.

Even with three digits per hand the sturdy turtle held you against his plastron securely as he returned you to your apartment.

The cold air whipped around the two of you as he sprinted across rooftops of Manhattan.

He was the happiest turtle alive having you in his arms. He never wanted to let you go.

But he did.

And how Leo missed you so dearly for the years that followed.

Not until he was pushing forty did he find you again.

New recruits weren't too much of an uncommon occurrence. However as leader it was his job to familiarize himself with his team to the best of his ability.

And when it came time to welcome in the greenhorns, there you were.

Despite the years that have added on your complexion you were still that beautiful basketball ballerina he found all those years ago.

His heart swelled.

Leo did his best to protect you better this time.

Even if, it meant keeping you here with him against your wishes.

Very quickly it was known amongst The Resistance how much you meant to the Commander.

Within six months he had you transferred under his supervision despite your skills aligning with General April's or even General Donnie's precincts.

It didn't matter.

Leo wanted you. And that was that.

There was no room to argue when it came to the leader's order.

Within the year, you were sharing quarters with the adult red eared slider and in the following months, his cot.

The few freedoms you found away from Leo were doing patrols or hanging with deceased General Cassandra's son.

Even then the interactions were limited.

It's hard to say no when the world around you is dying and you have no other choice in survival.

Which brings us back to the current present.

Racing like a bat out of hell you fleed your pursuer who was hot on your trail.

The basketball bunny runing from the hunter with a shell.

Oh God please! Please let me make this!

It was right in front of you.

Approximately two turns up ahead laid a small tunnel. It was a tight squeeze even for your stature but, if you could crawl far enough into there before Leo reached you. You'd make it.

You threw yourself into the stone wall. The rough texture scraped your palms but you didn't care. You kept running.

"(Y/n) please come back!" Leo hollered.

His voice was not far behind. He had to be literally on your tail.

This would be a miracle if you made this.

"(Y/n) wait! You can't leave!" Anger could be heard in his deep voice. The same tone he used when displeased with your behavior when socializing amongst your fellow comrades.

There it was!

Right there!

Not even thinking about it—

You dove for the small tunnel. Knees instantly bowed to the floor as you began crawling into the opening. The hole was disgusting but, you didn't mind that as you shuffled your body forwards.

" NO! " Leo growled.

A yelp escaped your throat. Clawing hands clasping around your ankle before attempting pull you back. Despite scraping at the edges of the rusted entrance. All it took was a single tug from the adult red eared slider to dragged you out of the small hideaway. Sadness and anger quick to take over his desperate senses.

"Why!? Why did you try to leave me!?" The mutant demanded.

You didn't know what to do. You were frozen. He caught you. You didn't plan for this. You hadn't really thought—

You really had hoped—

"(Y/n)! Answer me!"

"Is everything I do for you and your kind not enough? Why can't I have you?" Leo cried.

His aged but charming features stared you down with so much hurt. He loves you so much. Too much. So why would you go?

"I've always been there for you (Y/n)... my basketball ballerina...don't I...deserve you?" Leo reasoned. His voice displayed the hurt he felt as he reasoned with you.

Well more like manipulated.

"I love you so much.... I just can't lose you again."

Muscular arms pressed you against his plastron. Underneath it you could hear the bird fluttering in his ribs.

Your mind was running a mile a minute, terrified, flustered, unsure what comes next.

" I love you (y/n)...". Was the last thing your brain registered before feeling a pinch to the bundle of nerves in your neck. Falling limp like a ragdoll in the Commander's arms.

Releasing a sigh the tired adult red eared slider held you in the one-sided embrace for just a little longer. Relishing in the warmth from your body that wasn't accompanied by the small trembles from you.

The hug didn't last long before the mutant readjusted his hold on you so that you laid in his arms. Leo didn't mind doing this every once in awhile when the anniversary of your arrival came up. As long as you don't do it again for another year.

He would have to disperse that support group of yours....

Once back in the safe confinements of Resistance HQ; Leo made a B-line to your guys shared room. There he stripped you of your drenched coat and boots before tucking you back into the shared bed. In your spot next to him.

The blue bandana wearing turtle let out a tired yawn as he closed the door before crawling inside the sheets to lay besides you.

Leo was aware he was being selfish but, he just couldn't live without you. Not again. And certainly not in this cruel world that just wants to take away everything he holds dear.

Dark pools stared down at your resting face. His prosthetic hand lovingly caressed the soft skin of your face. Soothing both you and himself in the process.

Slipping away into the land of rest. Even while dreaming the Resistance Commander held on dearly to you.

Not allowing you the same chance to escape his embrace twice.

¶¶ Creator's Notes¶¶

Thank you for reading!

If you liked this part please enjoy part 2!

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