#and he’s like ‘whUH I WAS JUST RESTING MY EYES’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daisies-daydreams · 2 years ago

Note

I got a funny short fic idea here. Task 141 + König + Los Vaqueros x fem!reader reacting to their bodies being switched with each other.

A bit of a scenario, both of them went on a mission and happens to get ambushed by a gas fume in a room, after some lingering time time trying to get out of there (they did eventually), they passed out and the other members had to drag both of their bodies to base. The next day they woke up in the medic room but found something is wrong with their own bodies. Could be either sfw or nsfw

Characters: 141 (Ghost, Soap, Gaz), König, Alejandro Vargas, Reader, Original Character (Dr. Laura Winston) Warnings: Some NSFW Elements (“self-examination”), Descriptions of Genitalia, Mentions of Blood, Swearing Word Count: 2k+

A/N: Thank you for your request! I’m sorry if it’s bad-I tried my best but I've never written for a scenario like this before. 😵‍💫

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

It was a shit show.

Price had sent the 141, Alejandro, König, and you to raid a covert facility in Columbia. Things seemed to be going smoothly...until a pair of doors suddenly slammed on all of you just as you were about to escape. Your eyes widened as billowing clouds of gas began to pour into the room from the vents in the ceiling.

“GET DOWN!” Ghost’s voice boomed. All of you laid flat on the floor, military crawling towards a slit of light poking through a pair of doors on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes began to water as your lungs felt stung with each shallow breath you took. Your head grew dizzy as you watched König rise to his feet. He grunted as he slammed himself against the doors repeatedly, Ghost soon joining him.

Everyone coughed and sputtered as the fumes filled the small space. Your vision became blurry as you reached your hand out, your lungs feeling like shrunken plastic bags. The door thumped a few more times before König finally burst through, the humid night air spilling into the tight space.

“This way!” he coughed, waving his arm. You nodded as you slowly slithered forward, only to collapse once you reached the threshold. The last thing you remembered was being picked up by a pair of heavy arms.

+++

Your eyes snapped open as you gasped. A sheen of sweat coated your body as you launched forward in your bed. You winced as you slam your head into a light shining above you.

“Careful!” you heard an unfamiliar voice shout. You blinked a few times, the image of the room coming to you slowly. You recognized this place as the medical facility near the base you all were deployed from. Doctors and nurses bustled around.

"Forget your own height, Colenel?" the doctor quiped.

"Whuh?" you slurred. That wasn’t your rank...

"How are you feeling, sir?" the man asked. You blinked.

Sir?

You shook your head slightly as you gazed down. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when you saw a wide, expansive chest. Your arms were utterly HUGE-wait-all of you was huge. You nervously glanced down between your legs-

“H-Hi?” you said. You clasped your hands over your mouth. That wasn’t your voice. It was raspy and guttural. You looked down, eyes widening at the sight of your massive, veiny hands.

“Sir? How are you feeling?” the doctor repeated while tilting his head. You tried to steady your breathing, though your accelerated heart rate showed up on the monitor. The doctor frowned before scribbling something down on a clipboard. You fidgeted where you lay, large hands wringing the medical gown that covered you. Your eyes scanned the room, seeing the rest of your team out cold.

"I..." your words failed to come out of your new mouth. It felt like you had pebbles in your cheeks whenever you tried to talk. Your eyes glanced over the man's shoulder.

Your breath hitched when you saw your own body lying in the bed across from you. Every inch of you crawled as you mindlessly slid out of your bed.

“Where are you going?” the doctor asked. You cleared your throat.

“I-er-restroom?” you stammered awkwardly. The doctor looked you up and down before narrowing his eyes.

“Yes. Let me go…please,” your voice rumbled. The doctor seemed to shrink away as you tore the IV from your arm. You grimace at the sight of blood suddenly spurting from your arm. You hissed as you wrapped your hand around it as you hobbled towards the bathroom.

“Hey! You can’t-“ You shot a dirty glance at the source of the voice. The doctor clamped his mouth shut as his face grew pale. You tried to be quick, but you weren’t used to the long, heavy strides. You walked around like a newborn baby deer, nearly tripping over your large pair of feet.

Relief poured over you when you made it to the restroom, locking the door behind you. You rested your hands on the sink before taking a paper towel and putting pressure on your wound. You were very cautious as you gazed up in the mirror. You gasped and touched your face, your arms-everywhere.

Well…almost everywhere.

Your eyes trailed back down as you swallowed thickly. You bit your lip. Was this wrong? This wasn’t your body, after all. You exhaled through your nose as you slowly slid your hand down your gown. Your eyes bulged when you felt a flaccid cock being squeezed in your palm. The sensation sent a jolt through your body. You winced as you flicked your hand away.

“Fuck, he’s massive,” you thought. You glanced up at the mirror again. It’s the first time you’ve seen König without his mask on. He looked rather ruggedly handsome, if you say so yourself. Ginger hair, baby blue eyes and a scarred face with sharp features gazed back at you. You laughed to yourself as you shook your head.

“Man, this is one of the craziest dreams I’ve had in a while!” you thought. You pinched your arm, only to still be staring at the same visage. Your brows furrowed as you pinched yourself harder.

Nothing.

The sound of a commotion outside stirred your attention away from the mirror. You unlocked the door and walked down the hall to hear doctors and nurses trying to calm someone down.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you-I’m not me!” your voice shouted. You had to steady yourself for a second, your hand falling against the wall. It was your voice, but the accent was…different. You slowly stepped back into the bay to find your body scowling as you were being surrounded by medical staff.

“Please, we need you to calm down,” one of the doctors said. You scoffed and started walking towards your original body.

“Nein! You don't understand! This isn’t mein,” your body yelled while gripping your hair. Step. “This isn’t mein,” your smaller hands pointed at your eyes. Step. “And these aren’t MEIN!” your body finished by grabbing and shaking your breasts. You scowled as you broke past the gaggle of medical personnel.

“Get your hands off of me! What the hell is wrong with you?!” you boomed, your new voice nearly shaking the walls. You watched your (E/C) eyes widen as you snagged your wrists, König’s massive palms engulfing yours. Your eyes locked with each other for what felt like an eternity.

“Maus?” your voice whispered. You gasped, hands slipping away from your wrists.

“…König?”

“Call security! Now!” a doctor ordered.

“That won’t be necessary,” a woman’s voice called from the doorway. The whole room halted as the source of the voice stepped into the room. A bespeckled lady in a white lab coat strode towards you, her steely gray eyes scanning you up and down. “You all are relieved,” she stated calmly.

“But, Doctor-”

“I don’t want to repeat myself,” she said. The personnel quickly filed out, leaving you and your team in the hands of this mysterious woman. She straightened her turtleneck before clasping her hands together.

“I apologize for my team. They aren’t entirely used to your…dilemma,” the woman vaguely explained. König shifted in the bed uncomfortably while you fiddled with your new fingers. She held out her gloved hand.

“Dr. Laura Winston,” she introduced herself. You took her hand, your palm swallowing her own. Your hand fell back to her side. Just as you opened your mouth, a sudden grunt rang through the room.

“Hijo de puta,” Ghost’s voice grumbled. All of you snapped your heads over as the lieutenant rubbed the back of his head.

Holy shit.

“Al-Alejandro?” you gulped. Ghost blinked a few times, his dark eyes squinting at you. He huffed out a hearty chuckle, something foreign and somewhat terrifying to you.

“Of course, cariño. Who else would it be?” Ghost laughed. His eyes widened as his lips drew into a tight line.

“Ah, so then Lieutenant Riley must be-”

“FUCKIN’ HELL,” Alejandro’s voice groaned as his body lunged forward in his bed. Ghost blinked, his brows knitting slightly as he pointed a shaking finger at Alejandro.

“¡D-D-Diablo!” the man yelled. Alejandro scowled before his face fell. The men pointed at each other, words failing to leave their lips as they stared at each other with bulging eyes.

“Right, that leaves-” A clamor echoed through the examining room as Soap flung himself out of bed. His vision seemed unfocused as he yawned and scratched his face.

“Christ-I need a drink of water,” he spoke. All of you watched silently as he padded down the line of beds. Your face turned beet red when you saw the outline of his ass peek through his hospital gown. He suddenly froze where he stood before slowly turning around. Doctor Winston seemed unfazed as she tried her best to give him a reassuring grin.

“Oh, good. You’re-”

“WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK IS GOING ON?!” he screamed. His voice stirred Gaz from his sleep, prompting him to look around the room. A wide grin stretched across his face.

“Phew, didn't think we were gonna make it,” he sighed. His smile faltered when his gaze crossed his own body staring back at him. Doctor Winston cleared her throat.

“Now, let’s all just-”

The room erupted into a fit of rancor. Shouting was heard left and right-Gaz gripping Soap by his gown, Alejandro and Ghost still pointing their fingers at each other as they yelled in their respective languages. You and König remained still, awkwardly looking at each other before with pale faces before looking back at the scene before you. Doctor Winston cleared her throat.

“IF YOU PLEASE,” she boomed. Silence quickly filled the room. “Thank you,” she nodded. “Now-as for all of you returning to your original bodies-there appeared to be a compound in the gas that flooded the corridor just as you all were escaping the facility,” she began. Gaz’s eyes instantly glazed over. “Thankfully, we were able to obtain the name and chemical structure of the substance. However…” her voice trailed off.

“C’mon, spit it out,” Alejandro huffed in irritation. She sighed.

“However, it will take a while to properly replicate it,” she finished. You felt your chest tighten.

“So we’re stuck like this for God knows how long?!” König sputtered. Dr. Winston nodded slowly.

“I’m sorry-we’re working as fast as we can,” she stated. Ghost stepped forward.

“Why in the world are you trying to replicate the thing that caused…this?” he asked, motioning to everyone. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“I believe that if we simulate the incident, it could swap your consciousnesses back into the correct bodies,” Dr. Winston said. All of you blinked.

“How does that work exactly?” Soap asked. She frowned.

“Do you want to sit through a day-long lecture?” the doctor asked. Soap's eyes widened before he stepped back. She adjusted her sleeves before looking around to each of you. “Try to hang tight. We’ll be monitoring you in case there are any psychological or physical abnormalities,” Dr. Winston said. You understood why Gaz (Soap?) was starting to nod off.

“If you’ll excuse me-I need to return and check the status of the gas,” she said before seeing herself out. You all exchanged weary glances.

“Are we sure that gas wasn’t a fuckin’ hallucinogen?” Gaz asked dryly. Ghost chuckled, though it was clearly strained. You swallowed a lump in your throat.

“What about you, love?” Soap asked, his voice a little softer than usual as he gazed at your original body. You craned your neck down and stared at the man. König frowned and pointed towards you. Soap gasped as he tilted his neck up. “Er-(Y/N)?” he asked.

“Yeah?” you replied. His jaw dropped.

"I-you-and...you have a dick now?" Soap asked. You grumbled as Ghost and Gaz snickered. König meanwhile was a flustered mess-his face completely red.

"Yes, So-Gaz, I have a penis now," you irritatedly sighed. Soap looked back and forth between you and König's mismatched bodies.

"So...then that means-"

"That's enough," König barked. Soap instantly shut his mouth. Ghost still chuckled as you sat back on your bed. It creaked as you rested on it. You sighed as you rubbed your hands through your short, ginger hair.

“Bonnie?” Gaz piqued. You gripped your locks between your fingers.

“What are we going to do if it doesn’t work?” you choked. The men around you glanced at each other. You gasped as you felt a small pair of arms wrap themselves around your thick torso. König rested his head against your arm.

“Have faith, Maus. I trust Dr. Winston-she seems to know what she's doing,” he soothed. It felt strange hearing comfort coming from your own voice. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you wrapped an arm around his new body.

“Thank you, Kö,” you breathed. He nodded before patting your back. Your head began to suddenly feel dizzy as you braced yourself against the side of your bed.

“Cariño-” you heard Ghost's voice call. You had no time to prepare as your vision went black once again.

+++

The next time you woke, you were being dragged by a pair of large hands. Your glossy eyes gazed up at the tall, muscular figure dragging you out into the open. Their ungloved hands were warm as they pulled you out of a cloud of gas. The lights blinded you as you coughed and wretched, your lungs burning and eyes watering. While you expected to be in the dark facility you raided, you were instead met with the blurry sight of the medical center’s hallway. Your eyes trailed up to meet with König’s uncovered, beaming face.

“Hallo, Maus”.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

530 notes · View notes

curliiwurlii · 20 days ago

Text

Let’s Start the Day! (Alt tape)

After solving another tedious puzzle, Riley finally got another tape. Instead of a brand-new tape, however, it’s one they’ve watched before- “Let’s Start the Day”.

Confused by the reappearance of a previous tape, they put it in the VCR.

The video is already much different from the last, starting off with the perspective of what seems to be someone on a hospital bed, with 2 surgeons above them, everything having a hazy look to it. After some time, the patient’s eyes close.

Suddenly, the tape quickly switches to the episode with a title card saying “Let’s Start the Day!” with music in the background glitching in and out. The title card fades away, with Amanda rising from her bed, yawning and then looking out the window.

“Good- morning… b-birdies…” Amanda trails off, her smile transitioning into pure horror. The music quickly fades away as the camera changes to the view of the outside-but instead of birds chirping at the window, they’re dead. Rotting. Bugs picking at their flesh.

Amanda turns away from the window, her eyes quickly darting to the camera.

“I-I’m Amanda! Let’s start the day!” She says, worry still seeping through her words.

“First, I need to make my bed. Will you help me? We need to fluff the pillows and smooth out the blanket. Which should we do first?”

Riley chooses to tap on the pillows.

Amanda is about to hop on the bed, but suddenly stops.

“Actually, you know what? It doesn’t matter- I’m too tired to do this, anyway.” Amanda says, running her eyes. “I don’t even want to do anything today, not after that horrible dream… what kind of dreams do you have?”

“What if I tell her something SHE’s afraid of? It might be a way to get more info out of her…” Riley thinks. After pondering for a moment, they say their answer to the screen.

“The butcher.”

“STOP REMINDING ME-“ The static cuts Amanda off, resuming the episode as how it was supposed to be.

“I should probably head downstairs for breakfast. It’s my favorite meal of the day! But first, I’ll have to get dressed.” Amanda opens her closet, only to find dirty shirts and shorts with mud all over them.

“Oh COME ON! Now I have nothing to wear today!” Amanda whines, stomping her foot on the ground. “Sigh… I’ll just have to wear these pajamas for the rest of the day.” she says, walking out of her room.

The static cuts to Wooly in the kitchen, sleeping with his head on the kitchen counter. Stomping can be heard from the stairs, waking Wooly up.

“Wh-whuh?” He mumbles, as Amanda angrily enters the room. “Oh, morning Amanda. What’s up?” He asks, still drowsy as he rubs his eyes.

“Ugh, this morning has been the WORST! The birds are dead outside, all my clothes are dirty, and worst of all… I had the SCARIEST. NIGHTMARE. EVR!” She responds, clearly exhausted of just about everything now.

“Oh god, you too?” Wooly asks, surprised by her response. “Geez, looks like we both didn’t have much sleep. Haha…”

“Oh forget it. I’m heading to the couch.”

“Oh, okay then…”

A few seconds pass before Wooly breaks the silence. “I guess I’ll be making breakfast today… oh boy.”

Wooly hops off of his chair and walks towards the camera, but stops for a moment. “Wait a minute… YOU can help me make breakfast today!” He points to the camera as Riley turns around to find one of those toy kitchen sets with plastic food. Already familiar with random things appearing out of nowhere by now, they turn back to the TV.

“I think it’s best to make toast or bacon. I won’t be eating a lot, so it’ll mostly be for Amanda. With that said, would you like to help me make bacon or toast?” Wooly pulls out a plate of raw bacon and a loaf of bread from behind him.

“Bacon sounds good.” Riley says, as Wooly places the toast back in the fridge.

“Aw man, I can’t find anything to cook the bacon with. Do you have anything over there?”

Riley turns around to find different items all over the Kid’s Corner. “Just like before” they thought. After walking around the area, they suddenly get an idea. “What if I get the wrong items for him?” They wonder, since they haven’t seen much of Wooly getting irritated.

“Are you done yet? I’m starving here!” Wooly scolds from the TV.

Riley quickly grabs a torch from in front of the TV and places it on top of the TV to give it to him.

“I can’t cook bacon with THAT. Can you cooperate with me for just 5 minutes?” Wooly says, already losing his patience.

“Alright, alright.” Riley responds, irritated by his nagging. However, still interested in getting him angry, they pick up a lighter and place it on top of the TV again.

“Are you KIDDING ME?? What will it take for you to not mess with us?! Do you LIKE seeing us mad or something?!” Wooly yells, fed up with Riley’s shit.

The screen fills up with red static, the noise louder than ever. Riley can hear thumping from the vents above them, already regretting their decision.

The static cuts in and out, as Wooly holds his head, his fingers deep in his wool, breathing heavily. “No…no…” he whimpers, as the static finally stops and he raises his head to the camera.

“Please, just get the pan already.” Wooly demands, his voice tired and irritated. Fearing their life, Riley quickly grabs the pan that’s already in front of them in a split second and gives it to the TV.

“Finally.” Wooly mumbles. “Now, what should I use to cook the bacon- the refrigerator, the sink, or the stove?”

Riley taps on the stove.

“Good job! Time to FINALLY make some bacon. First, put the stove to high and put some oil on it once it’s hot enough.” Wooly grabs the oil bottle next to him. “Don’t do this at home, kids!” He whispers as he drizzles oil onto the pan.

Riley turns around to find a toy pan and plastic bacon on the kitchen set. They walk over to it and place the bacon on the pan and turn the knob on the toy stove to a high heat. A sizzling noise can be heard from a speaker.

Riley walks back to the TV as it glitches to the bacon now being on the stove near Wooly.

“Oooohh, it smells so good! I love the smell of bacon in the-“ Wooly stops as he jumps at the sight of the opossum on top of the fridge, observing the bacon. “Why are YOU here?! What on earth do you want?!” He quickly turns to the camera with an angry look on his face. “Get this guy out of here!”

Riley taps on the TV to make an attempt at making the opossum leave. The TV then glitches, with the opossum giving them a dirty face, hopping off of the fridge and out of the kitchen.

“My god… I’m WAY too tired for all this…” Wooly complains, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. He then turns around to check on the bacon, only to find that it’s now burnt with tons of smoke rising from it.

“DANG IT!!”

He quickly turns off the stove as Amanda enters the kitchen again.

Riley turns around to find the plastic bacon now melted on the pan. “How the hell..?” Confused by how it melted, they turn back to the TV.

“Hey, what’s that smell?” She asks as she quickly notices the giant smoke coming from the pan. “My god, Wooly, what did you do?!”

“I-I tried to make bacon for breakfast today and it all ended up getting burned!” Wooly whines, taking the pan to the trash bin and throwing the bacon out.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t make us breakfast.” Wooly says, hanging his head low.

“But… I’m so hungry…” Amanda whines.

“Me too.”

About a minute passes before Amanda speaks again.

“I hate this.”

Static fills the screen and the tape falls out of the VCR.

Author’s Note: MY FIRST AMANDA FANFIC LETS GOOOO!!! I’m super proud of this as it’s the first fanfic I’ve EVER written and now I wanna make more!! Let me know what you guys think and what you liked about this. Have a great day/night!!

#amanda the adventurer #amanda the adventurer 2 #wooly the sheep #fanfic

21 notes · View notes

memory-and-sky · 1 year ago

Note

hi I loved your dysphoria fic and I wanted to request a ftm coming out to hobie fic? Maybe somewhere pretty like a fair or a spiderman classic tall building?

yes!!! i love writing ftm fics! thank you so so much anonnnn :3 hoping you enjoy!!

word count: 666 (how cool!)

containing: swearing, mention of dysphoria, reader is transmasc, use of ‘girl’ to address reader (once), crying, a little emotional i will admit! also a little corny but as is life

the rest of the fic is under the cut!

coming out (finally).

hobie x ftm!reader

It had been a long day without Hobie.

He’s the only one that you really trusted, really loved, and the only one who really cared for you in return. He… yeah, he loved you.

Those words were heavy on your mind as you paced the streets of Camden, trying to calm yourself down before going back on Hobie’s houseboat where you knew he’d be waiting. You were currently wearing Hobie’s tattered shirt, jacket, and jeans.

He probably wondered why you were always stealing his stuff, too.

Well…

Putting it simply, you hated being a girl. You couldn’t dress like one without crying uncontrollably. You hated it more than anything ever.

That’s why you’d been favouring Hobie’s clothes over your own recently.

Also why your back hurt incessantly. All the slouching in an attempt to hide your chest did a number on you.

You weren’t a girl. You knew this. Have for a while, but subsided it because of the world you lived in. And other shit that was happening. It was too much.

You didn’t know how Hobie felt about trans people. He was gay, but that’s… different.

As you came up on the dock Hobie’s houseboat was at, where you had been staying, your heartbeat increased.

Fuck.

Could you even do this?

You had to. You promised yourself. And Hobie… Hobie’s not the type of person to hate someone like that. Not for who they are, and what they cannot change.

You walked over to Hobie’s houseboat, and climbed on. Was he even home yet?

You looked in the bedroom, under the deck, and he was sleeping. Climbing the stairs down, you went to go gently wake him up.

“Whuh…” Hobie rubbed his eyes as you shook him awake. “Oh, mornin’, pre’y girl,”

You shuddered at the use of ‘girl’, not in a good way at all.

“It’s evening. Can I…um… well, I just have somethin’ to talk with you… about.”

“Do I gotta get up?” He mumbled.

“Yes. Please?”

Hobie sat up, slid his slippers onto his feet, and then went upstairs with you, onto the deck.

You looked out at the setting sun, casting orange lighting on you both.

It was beautiful. As stupid as it might sound, it gave you a bit of confidence.

Like you had to do it now. It was so pretty, how could you not?

“Hobie, you… you’d accept me no matter what I told ya, yeah?”

He nodded without hesitation. “Barely anyfing you could tell me t’ make me hate ya, love,”

You avoided his gaze. Jesus, you were terrified.

“So, you know how I’ve cut my hair kinda short, and I’ve been stealing your boyish clothes…” You took a shaky deep breath. “I… I’m not a girl. I’m a boy. I’ve decided I want to go by (y/n) and use he and him or whatever. I wanna be recognized as a guy.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, and clenched your fists in anticipation.

“Oh… oh, han’some…” You opened your eyes to a big grin on Hobie’s gorgeous features, as he brought up a calloused hand to gently cradle your face. “I’ll do anyfing t’ help ya, aight? Anyfing, I promise. I’ll cut yer hair if ya want, I’ll help ya with getting new clothes, I accept ya, ‘kay? Even if you gotta change yer identity a million times ova’, I’ll support ya through all of it.”

You felt like crying out of happiness, and as tears sprang to your eyes, you hugged Hobie tightly, held him like he was going to disappear at any moment.

“T-thank you, Hobie…” You cried into his shirt that he had sewn himself.

You sobbed as Hobie pressed kisses onto the top of your head, rubbing your back gently at the same time.

“Of course, mate. ‘n I’m sorry fo’ callin’ you a girl, hope you can forgive me, swee’ ting.”

“I—I can. Y-you didn’t know, it’s not… on you,” You sniffled.

Whatever happens next, you were glad you did this when you did.

You loved Hobie, and he loved you, so… that’s all that mattered to you. You’d make it through together.

[sorry for the shortness of this, everyone! hope u still liked♥️]

125 notes · View notes

scoundrels-in-love · 6 months ago

Text

I remember when your head caught flame, it kissed your scalp and caressed your brain

Wolfwood has no one but himself to blame for missing the signs of too-bright-loud-too-too-too world amping up in the last two days; a frustration that is well worn and familiar and does nothing to ease the pain of steel restraint three sizes too small wrapped around his brain, just beneath his skull which feels thin and tender, pulsating in rhythm of blood and pain pumping through him.

He wonders if he could rip his own head off, as simply he has torn other bodies apart. Like Legato had crunched Wolfwood’s form as if it was a discarded paper bag.

“Wolfwood?” Meryl's voice pierces through his fantasy, and he feels his jaw clench - a bad move.

He grunts an acknowledgement.

“Can you sit up? I booked the room, but I can't carry you inside.”

This makes him open eyes. Shortstack is hovering above him, leaning through the gap between front seats and the concern on her face is something he doesn't have capacity to process right now. Probably never.

Wolfwood had been vaguely aware they'd stopped, because the inclination to give up every bit of bile in his stomach had lessened a fraction. But he'd not thought much as to why, fleetingly assuming it was for a charging station.

“Whuh,” he says, eloquently. They're low on funds and the omnipresent, bright heat pressing into the van indicates it's not even close to nighttime yet. He's been trying to hide from it by laying down in the back seat, arm thrown over his face until the weight of it got too much. Plus, the smell of tobacco clinging to his sleeve had suddenly become an aggressor in the last day which, again, should've pointed him towards the signs.

“I can't get you inside on my own, can you walk?” Her voice is softer now, as if she'd caught him wincing at her volume before.

“Sure thing,” Wolfwood replies as he moves to sit up. If you can't walk, you're dead. He isn't yet, not yet not yet not yet.

Despite his insistence that he's fine, just peachy even, she's really making fuss for no reason, it takes more effort than he expects to get out of the car with his stiff, aching joints into the bright midday sun. The light hits like physical force and he hunches beneath it, staggers towards the sling on the back of the van where Punisher waits for him.

The familiar feeling of cloth and belts scorching his hands grounds Wolfwood and he manages to walk in the inn upright and brushing off Meryl who is fluttering around him like newly hatched wormling, restless and useless.

Even indoors, there are sparks in his vision, a blur on the edges, and the way his head spins do no favors to his stomach which has come to rest in his throat ever since he began moving. Meryl guides him to the room with urgency and if he had the capacity to be annoyed, he'd be telling her off. But now he just follows.

The room's curtains are drawn shut meticulously to not let even a strand of sunlight peek through, it looks safe and quiet as much as anything does on this cursed planet. He props Punisher against the wall next to the single bed and crumbles on the edge of the lumpy mattress, beyond drained and frustrated about it. His sunglasses clatter on the side table too loudly, their arms having felt like a pinch for the past hour.

“Take your jacket off,” Meryl tells him, suddenly kneeling in front of him. He must make some kind of noise, because she meets his gaze with a tight smile.

“When I have a migraine, bending over is like a death sentence,” she explains, tugging off one of his shoes. He lifts his other foot to aid her efforts, wordlessly, because what is there to say? Thank you, you don't have to, you shouldn't , I don't deserve it, I must handle these things on my own or I might get used to idea that–

“C'mon, off with that jacket, you never sleep in it unless it’s freezing,” Meryl tears apart his thought tangle, having set his shoes aside and standing in front of him with an expectant, outstretched hand. Wolfwood manages to shrug it off with minimal waves of nausea and lays down, closing eyes and listening to the gentle rustle of cloth as she must be placing it neatly on the chair.

Next, she disappears into the bathroom and all he has left to focus on is each squeeze of metal around his brain, that tender blob of guilt and bad decisions that makes him him or some shit.

He can't even lay still, with the aches in his hands and knees and hell, every other joint, too. But even a shift, even if he stretches his fingers to curl them slightly in a minute, feels like it resonates up his body, into his skull. It's absurd, but he supposes so is his existence.

The bathroom door creaks open and then is gently shut behind Meryl before her weight dips the very edge of the mattress. It's not a bed for two people which, actually - did they even have money for two rooms?

“Can you lift your head slightly?” she whispers and Wolfwood cracks his eyes open to see her holding two wet towels.

“I don't need-”

“That's not what I asked.”

He must preserve energy in case something happens, something where he needs to wield the Punisher and keep her from becoming another ghost haunting him (like Vash, like Livio -), so he capitulates this battle and gingerly lifts head so she can arrange the damp cloths around his head. It's an unpleasant, soggy sensation when he lays back down, but the coolness is almost instantly soothing.

She doesn't leave the bed immediately like Wolfwood expects as he tries to find words that aren't thank you, but would convey sentiment frighteningly similar to that. Instead, she scoots a little lower and gently takes his right hand in hers, smoothing fingers over his painful knuckles like trying to suffocate the ache with her tenderness.

“The vials wouldn't help?” Meryl asks as she repeats the motions and his whole body tenses up as a powerful wave of nausea roils through him at the memory of one time he'd tried. The wounds he'd left on himself trying to rend himself apart to end it had healed immediately without so much as a scar, but he will never forget the excruciating ways every blood vessel in his brain had pulsated with agony.

“Oh. I am sorry,” her voice cuts through the memory and Wolfwood forces himself to relax again. Her hand feels so small in his - when had he clutched it so tightly, did he leave bruises?

“It's nothin’,” Wolfwood lies as he shakes her hold off, “stop coddling me and go to your room, I got this.”

“Well, tough luck then. I don't have anywhere to go, this was the last room they had.”

He isn’t entirely surprised and it won’t be the first time they share a room or have pressed close to endure the cold of desert night. But it’s worse because all her attention is on him, his comfort and he feels flayed open by it just as much as the pain.

“We coulda kept moving,” Wolfwood grumbles, trying to regain some control over his thoughts.

“But we didn't. Money is already paid so we aren't moving until tomorrow morning.” There is finality to her voice and the last fight leaves his body. With a heaved sigh he allows his consciousness to loosen its grip.

His sleep is shallow, pain threading through it and pulling him close to wakefulness several times before he sinks back down. Wolfwood feels the cool cloth on his head being changed several times and Meryl smoothing his hair back from his damp forehead, but pretends to sleep through it. It's simpler that way. It's all for practicality, anyway. She needs him in good form and…

When Wolfwood wakes up, the pain has receded to a nuisance at the back of his skull and clamps on his temples. He pulls off the towel covering his forehead and eyes, blinks in the dim light, before setting it to the side and looking around to find Meryl.

She isn't far - curled in on herself and awkwardly propped against the wall and the headboard, one leg stretched out while the other is curled beneath her. Asleep, by the sound of her breath. He thinks about how she used to complain about sleeping in the car, shifting endlessly back and forth before settling down, but after Julai she's learned to sleep wherever and for what little time disasters might afford them.

Reminiscing does him little good, but it's hard not to, looking at her face, brow scrunched a little even in sleep. It isn't the first time she has kept vigil over him and every time Wolfwood swears it will be the last one. But he and promises have never gotten on very well; several absences in his life are a clear proof of that.

Meryl shifts slightly and her head slides forward. Without thinking, he reaches out and stops her head slipping further, crashing into the headboard's edge. Her cheek is warm in his palm, the skin soft against his calluses so much that it makes him want to rub his thumb over it, but she's awake now, staring at him wide eyed and slightly disoriented.

“Couldn't let that big brain of yours get knocked around,” Wolfwood scoffs as explanation, withdrawing his hand. Something flashes across her face, eerily alike hurt, before she settles for mild annoyance.

“You must feel better if you're back to being an asshole,” she mutters, straightening up and then stretching.

“Never stopped, sweetheart,” he waves at her, dismissive of her words and aches in his joints both, then sits up a little too carefully.

“That's true, the moment you genuinely do, I will be calling an ambulance.”

He points out that this is such a big city girl thing to say and they bicker back and forth some as he stands up and gets his cigarettes, meanders over to the window. Still barefoot because she'd been right – bending to put on shoes does feel like an execution even now and he's lived through a few.

The late evening sunlight still hits Wolfwood like daggers through his eyes, despite the sunglasses he had fetched from nightstand, but he grits his teeth and leans against windowsill, almost challenging the angled sun rays to chase him back into the shadows. He knows he belongs there. He knows.

“I'll be right back,” Meryl says over her shoulder, already halfway through the door and he mock-salutes her.

When she returns he's through with two cigarettes and her hands are full with a tray of food, pitcher of water with a couple glasses.

“Eat, you can empty your pack after,” Meryl gestures to the plate of empanadas as she places it on the rickety table near the window. He knows she remembers his throwaway comments, notices the things he enjoys, but every reminder still strikes a cracked bell in his heart, its sound too overwhelming.

Wolfwood speaks over it, as he always does: “Gonna spoon feed me while yer at it? I could've gotten something if I was hungry.”

“If I must,” she says, hands on her hips and mutters that sounds a lot like you prickly bastard .

He could argue, but he knows the food will do him good, even if he is still mildly nauseous. And in this year spent together, he's learned that the determination with which she'd broken Vash out of the tank prison is generously applied in many other aspects of her life.

So, to not delay the inevitable, Wolfwood joins her for the meal. They talk about doing a few jobs around the town tomorrow to replenish the funds, bicker over the last fry which he eats on principle and also enjoy a spell of silence.

It is good while it lasts and he has no one to blame but himself when it doesn't.

His head still feels tender, tendrils of worse pain slithering on the edge, and his body feels heavy. It's almost as if sleeping through a migraine is not very restful, he snaps at Meryl who comments he looks tired.

“Then go to bed, Undertaker,” she scoffs, gathering things for a wash up.

“Stop herding me, woman,” Wolfwood snaps and watches the corners of her mouth drop into an upset scowl.

“Suit yourself, I'm using up all the hot water for that.”

He watches her leave and wishes he had something stronger to wash down the bitterness in his mouth. It's better that way, better to be a nuisance that she won't care for, but sometimes it feels like it's too late, that all he can do is hurt her heart that is already attached. Again and again, from the day he’d led Vash to Julai and countless times after.

But even if that's true, there's no trust and no misplaced affection that he can't break. If not today, then soon she will see him for who he is and the disappointment will curdle into loathing.

They don't talk after that, she hardly looks at him once she comes out of the bathroom and by the time he's clean and ready for bed, Meryl has already made herself comfortable in the bed, facing away from him, arms drawn close to her chest.

Wolfwood doesn't know if he's committing to being an asshole or just avoiding another argument when he settles on the other side of the bed. Probably the latter because he doesn't wrestle more of the blanket away from her. He is tired , far beyond the physical drain today has taken. Tired of being him, tired of the ghosts in his ribcage, tired of longing for a world where he could be the person Meryl and Vash thought he could be.

All that immaterial exhaustion and still he can't fall asleep.

Their backs are almost touching as he listens to her breath level out while his sleepless minutes twine into an hour. An excellent sense of time is yet another skill Chapel instilled in him by any means necessary.

But he is losing this sharpness he's been given, his edges are growing dull, Wolfwood knows, can read it in the way he wants to say sorry and thank you, to fix the crack in their fragile peace he himself has carved.

He can't afford to, not truly, but he can turn around without Chapel beating him for giving into his bodily urge to shift in the bunk beneath his teacher's. He can look at the gentle shape of Meryl's face in the darkness, his eyesight adjusted and changed for thriving in night, and -

Well, he shouldn't let the tender yearning take a breath and expand in his chest until his heart is engulfed in it, but he does anyway.

He will sharpen himself soon, with blood and death and hatred, with anything but her and the gilded memory of Vash, but tonight, tonight Wolfwood shifts to loosely wrap himself around her small form. Listens to her even breathing and presses his lips carefully to the crown of her head, mouths thank you there, inhaling the gentle floral and citrus scent of her shampoo, and lets it lull him into sleep.

#trigun #trigun stampede #stryfewood #merylwood #my fic #rainy writes stuff

31 notes · View notes

t0ast-ghost · 10 months ago

Text

STARTING THIS ONE OFF STRONG. Episode 16 (Shore Leave) which starts with Kirk thinking Spock is giving him a back rub…

Here’s the rest!

- McCoy mentioned within the first minute of an episode is a win on my account

- McCoy AND Sulu! I must be dreaming! A rabbit as well!- wait what

- He’s got the “Whuh” and the “Huh”

- Spock doesn’t touch grass confirmed

- SPOCK FUCKIN GOT HIM (YEAHH GET HIS ASS! Captains gotta rest)

- “then you’d have whole armies of Don Juan’s to fight off… and me too” I took that as he’d also get a Don Juan not that he was into her

- there’s a whole ass tiger

- THAT HAT! Jadzia wears it better…

- I think Spock isn’t real and Kirk is just dreaming him… (gay action) (edit: sadly this is wrong)

- the only reason they split up McCoy and Kirk is so they wouldn’t continue on their escapades

- WHAT MCCOY FUCKING DIES WHAT NO NO

- okay that was me a couple seconds ago, I am now alert and thinking and I’ve decided that he simply cannot be dead

- McCoy’s body is gone? Where

- Jim’s fucking run, I can’t (what is he doing with his arms?!)

- WHAT WHEN DID HIS SHIRT GET TORN?!? (I checked and in the wide shot immediately before his shirt was indeed intact)

- Kirk really wanting to slap a bitch

- “dangerous if we happen to be thinking about-” “yes, we must all control our thoughts” Spock interrupted that awful quickly…

- Spock talking about “amusement parks” with his hands on his hips like this is normal

- “yes, play, Mr. Sulu. The more complex the mind, the greater the need for the simplicity of play.” This is a very interesting line for two reasons. Reason number one being that this is true, but not just for the complex beings of Star Trek. Everyone can benefit from play, when people are playing it’s easier to learn things and increases health. Number two is I think this is so true for so many of the Star Trek god-like beings, like Q.

- his eyes are more blue than usual. He’s also more heterosexual than usual.

- part of me hopes this is just mass radiation poisoning or something.

- whew, they’re back on the bridge surrounding Jim, normality hath returned.

Originally I was going to combine this post with the next episode, but it turns out I have a lot to say on The Galileo seven so... wait for that one. (trying not to flood tags with my posts, sorry if it's not working since I'm basically posting daily)

Master list link for other episode reviews

#star trek #star trek the original series #star trek aos #star trek kirk #tos kirk #captain james kirk #star trek spock #tos spock #spock #star trek mccoy #tos bones #leonard bones mccoy #star trek sulu #tos sulu #hikaru sulu

23 notes · View notes

starlitheaven · 2 years ago

Note

hi azul! you’re literally so amazing, i’ve been a huge follower of your blog for a long long time :)) I wanted to know if I could get a matchup with satoru? all the content for him the last few days has my heart overflowing, you write him so lovely, a song would be photograph by ed sheeran? sorry if this seems random I really love your blog and writing!!

hi! your words are so so sweet, i'm keeping them in a lil locket beside my heart. i hope you like this <3

through the viewfinder of the polaroid camera, you focused on the sight of your husband, still in his suit from the reception, laying on the plush king sized hotel bed. two bottles are beside him, cider and champagne. your lips curl up in a soft, honeyed smile as your index finger presses down.

click!

"eh? how's that? handsome, right?" satoru grins when the photo reveals itself. it's boyish, reminding you of the first day you met him. back when you swore you'd never want to see him again. he's chewing on the complimentary chocolate covered strawberries. "told ya i could be a model, babe."

satoru shifts then, leaning back on an elbow while he playfully attempts to seductivley pop another strawberry into his mouth. you laugh and snap another photo, not missing the opportunity to capture the moment. satoru doesn't expect this though, making a 'whuh' noise low in his throat, narrowly avoiding choking on the fruit.

as he's having a dramatic coughing fit beside you, the polaroid fades from stark white to a kaleidoscope of colors, revealing satoru at his most raw—endearingly lame. the sight melts your heart, and you can't help but fall in love a little more.

satoru snatches the camera as you're busy cooing over the photo, aiming the lens towards a profile of you to catch you off guard—hair a little out of place and in your hotel bathrobe, fresh from your post-wedding shower. the day came and went, flying by in a rush of people and commands and timings and music and perfection. there was still a ringing in your ears, your blood still buzzing and limbs heavy with exhaustion. you've done enough mingling and socializing for the rest of the year.

now, it's just you and satoru; the man you've promised your entire life to. the one who holds your heart in his hands. and—a photo of you!

"look at that, my wife," satoru murmurs, testing the word on his tongue. wife. his wife. he’s a married man. "i should keep this in my wallet, huh? a picture of my pretty wife."

you frown, fighting the heat that rises on your cheeks. pretty? you're all bare and exhausted from today. "w-wait, toru—no! take another one! let me go fix myself up and—"

"nuh uh," satoru grins teasingly, holding up the polaroid between two fingers. "i like this one. when i look at this five, ten, twenty years from now—!, i'll remember this exact moment." when you settle back on your knees, he continues. "the lighting right now, that airplane that just went by, the smell of your shampoo, how tired your eyes look,

and satoru looks exhausted as well—broad shoulders sagging just slightly, hair out of the slicked back style he wore today, morning star eyes fighting sleep. you stay quiet for a few moments, just taking in your husband and knowing that you really will remember this moment decades from now. lifetimes.

in every universe you’ll remember your husband on your wedding night.

#this is so late i'm so sorry #last one was angsty with wedding so I wanted something softer!#gojo x reader

120 notes · View notes

theonetruegnome · 5 months ago

Text

Oh my god it's been like 4 days, I'm sorrryy, you must all be so mad at me, I'm sorry. But at the same time, I feel I am constantly churning out content and feel somewhat anxious about not pacing myself. I'm sure I have enough steam left to at least tie up any loose ends, so don't worry, the story will finish itself. But I just wanna know; Should I pick back up my old pace of 'one thing every day or so', or do you prefer waiting a few days? Feedback on this would be greatly appreciated. Anyway, enjoy the show!

There was complete silence following Conk's words. Eli was staring, mouth agape in shock, at the small figure. She was short, no doubt about that. She came barely up to her brother's midriff. Yet she seemed much larger than she actually was, due to the large amount of lilac downy feathers covering her whole body. The fluffy young feathers looked soft to the touch and worked to make her appear older and stronger than probably she was. The only parts of her body discernible from the plumage were her hands and the part of her face not hidden by her fringe. She wore a pair of faded booties with very heavily patched soles, as well as a deep purple scarf that was a bit too big for her, having been tied up several times so as not to appear ridiculous. Near her chin, sewn into the fabric, were the initials 'C.O Featherby'. The entire time they had seen her, her face wore the brightest smile any of them had seen, and that's coming from the group that frequently hung out with Callum!

The silence stretched on. Eli and Dandy were both blushing a prominent red. Mana had one hoof pressed against the bridge of her nose. Finally Eli spoke up.

'Conk, I am so sorry, I-I didn't know.'

'Eh, it's fine, these things happen.

'No, really, that was... That was just bad, we... Sorry...' 'Yeah, we shouldn't have assumed... Sorry' The elephant averted his eyes down to his feet while Dandy's cheeks went redder still.

'You guys apologise too much. I really don't mind, and I'm sure she doesn't, do you?' 'Whuh?' 'See?'

Eli gave a weak chuckle at the young hen's confusion, face clearing somewhat of the red incursion. Callum approached the chick and bent down to talk to her,

'So what's your name then little lady?' 'Chamomile!' 'Well, isn't that a pretty name! Do you like your name?' 'Uh-huh! What's your name?' 'My name's Callum.' 'Your name's pretty too!'

As Callum kept up the conversation, the rest approached the trio to get a better look at the fluffy little bean.

'So... You have a sister. That's new then?' 'Huh? Oh, no, she's three years and four months old now. Really *Yawn* Growin' up fast. Ahh.' 'What?! How can I only be finding out about this now? I've been to your house like a dozen times this year!' '*Streeetch!* I guess you're just not observant.' 'Conk, I have five siblings, two of which are younger sisters. I find that very unlikely.' 'And yet you didn't even notice the toddler that suddenly appeared in my house?' 'Says the guy who forgot my birthday two years in a row and told me a story to compensate.' 'You love my stories! And I didn't exactly hear you complaining when I said 'The End'.' 'I was passed out for the next eighteen hours, I didn't get a chance to complain.'

As Conk tries to answer, he's cut off;

'Alright, settle down, neither of you is perfect, we can agree on that. Let's just end it there.' 'Hey, why is she wearing your clothes?' 'Why do you ask?' 'It's just that it looks like you have a poorly-made Mini Me following you around. Nothing else.' 'They're hand-me-downs. She was so happy when she first got 'em she's never taken 'em off.' 'That can't be true!' 'Those are her clothes, P.Js and even her bath clothes. If they need a wash we have to sponge her down and huh- *Yawn* hang her outside to dry as well. She loves them that much.' '...Ok, that's the most adorable thing I've ever heard.'

Chamomile, having finished talking, toddles over, looks up at Conk and raises her arms above her head.

'Up! Up!'

'OhMyGod it got cuter.'

'*Snap!* This is one for the scrapbook!'

'Okay Chicklet, *Oof* uuuup we go!' Conk Groans like a middle-aged man with a bad back as he lifts his sister onto his shoulders. Next to the perfect little chick right next to him, the others notice for the first time how truly awful he looks. Feathers sticking up at odd angles, eyelids twitching, he's shaking like a leaf and his eyes are so bagged it looks like he's been punched in the face.

'Uhhh, Conk?' 'Huh? What's up?' 'What's up is that you look like the grim reaper. How long did you sleep last night?' 'I pretty much didn't, and now I can't tell if I'm dead or not. Which is why I'm going to be taking this little pickle home for a nap, she's too energetic.' 'Nooooo! I dun wanna sleep!' Chamomile tries to stand up and climb away from Conk's reach pulling on many feathers in the process. 'Oww! Ok, Cham, I'm going home to rest anyway and I should take you home for Mom and Dad's sake, they'll be worried sick about you. You're sweet for trying, but you can't just go toddling off looking for me when you miss me.' 'Bu' I Don't wanna sleep. I wanna play.'

'I mean, we could take care of her while you go home and sleep.'

Conk's head whips around to look at Sunny. 'What? No, not possible. Out of the question.' 'Why? We-' She glances over at Dandy, Eli and Mana. 'I am responsible enough to take care of her, so you can tell your parents that. And she won't be bored at all with Callum and Leah fussing over her.' Conk glances over at the two, who are looking at Chamomile like a pair of arsonists would look at a gas station. Okay, they'd all take good care of her, but... 'But, I'm her brother...' He stifled a yawn and rubbed his temples. God his head hurt. 'So? Nobody ever said she had to be looked after by a relative-' 'Gimme the baby!' 'Woah! Tone it down Callum! You're at a fourteen, we'd like you at like a four, max, ok?' 'Ok, sorry, I just got excited...' '...I... I guess you guys could hold onto her for a few minutes...' He gently lowered her to the ground and knelt down to speak to her face to face. 'Cham, you're going to stay with Sunny and the others for a while, ok? I'll be at home taking a nap. If you want to go home, just tell someone and they'll take you home, got it?' 'Otay! I love you!' 'I love you too Cham.' Conk gently kissed her on the forehead before letting go of her. As he trotted away, he looked back. Chamomile had wrapped herself around Leah's legs, the latter appearing to be experiencing cute-induced hysteria.

Conk slowly trudged the well-known path back home, forcing himself not to drop into nearby hedgerows and flower beds to pass out. Finally, he reached the Featherby family household. He stepped inside, mumbled to his parents where his sister was and that they shouldn't worry, and tucked himself into bed. A single thought swam to the forefront of his mind as his breathing slowed and his limbs went light. 'I must be the luckiest cockerel... in the world... To have... such good friends...' Finally he closed his eyes and entered the familiar folds of calm, numbing oblivion.

#shifted critters #swap au #smiling critters #callum cuddlekit #eli electrophant #leah lensbear #munchypup #dandydoe #mana mare #conk out cockerel #sunnyshoat #Last name reveal #Someone get me some adderall #This took a week of procrastinating #God I'm lazy

7 notes · View notes

shapeshiftinterest · 2 years ago

Text

Morton Helps: bowser x luigi

i love morton’s caring vibes towards junior in the video games and the headcanon that the koopalings are adopted

luigi and bowser are not dating yet; bowser’s starting to get a crush and luigi is oblivious

morton kidnaps a green man while trying to help his dad with his love life

bowuigi valentines event

prompt mix:

day 3: love rival

day 4: just friends (?)

day 6: secret admirer

story under the read more

Morton Helps (also on ao3)

Morton wasn’t book smart.

Morton wasn’t street smart either.

But he noticed things. Things like King Dad acting funny around Green Stache. Things like how he looked at the plumber the same way he used to look at Princess Peach. Things like how lately he’d been using the other’s name more often instead of a nickname.

It was because Morton noticed such things that he was currently in the dungeons, arms crossed and frowning at his wriggling hostage.

Wasn’t his fault he’d panicked! Morton just wanted to watch the green plumber and make sure he was good enough for his dad is all! It just so happened that he’d caught sight of the bean prince leaving the Mario house this time and may have, uh, forcefully invited him to Bowser’s castle.

Huffing, Morton yanked the bag off his hostage’s face and was almost blinded by the unnecessary anime sparkles if he hadn’t stolen borrowed one of Roy’s sunglasses. The koopa stomped forward and grabbed a fistful of the other prince’s tunic.

“ACK!” Only to get a mouthful of blond hair a second later. “BLEGH! PTHHBT! PPTHHBBT!!”

“Heh heh heh! Take that, you fiend!” The prisoner laughed triumphantly. He did another hairflip and whacked Morton in the face again, causing the other to let go and drop him. ”Oof!”

“NO HITTING MORTON! MORTON ONLY ONE WHO HITS!” Morton yelled, raising a fist.

“Wait!”

“HUH?”

“I am Prince Peasley of the Beanbean Kingdom, how dare you treat royalty like this, you cur!” Peasley blew a strand out of his face and sat up as regally as he could. Morton scowled.

“MORTON PRINCE TOO! NOT CURRY!”

“Really?” Peasley asked, surprised that another royal would act so... ill mannered. “Pray tell, why have you captured me then? I don’t recall meeting you before, so I don’t think I’ve done anything that would get me kidnapped.”

“s..ayw.yfr.ml..g.i.”

“I beg pardon?”

“STAY AWAY FROM LUIGI!!”

The green prince was stunned, not just from the volume but the statement as well. “And why should I?” He asked, rolling his eyes. “Luigi is my friend, I don’t think you have a say me visiting him.”

Morton stomped again, frustrated. If he had more hair he’d be pulling it out by now. Why didn’t this little sparkly man understand?

“KING DAD LIKE GREEN MARIO! YOU NO VISIT! NO ROSES, NO SPARKLING, NO NOTHING! STAY AWAY!!”

Oh. Oooooohhhh! Well this was certainly interesting. Apparently his mustachio’d friend had a secret admirer, and the violent king of the koopas no less!

Peasley stood up and rubbed his wrists, bean dagger tucked back into its hilt as his ropes fell to the ground. He supposed Morton would have to learn to search his captives for weapons the hard way.

“WHUH-,” Morton looked to Peasley, then back to the ropes, then back to Peasley. “HEY! NO FAIR!”

“Heh heh heh.” Peasley struck a dashing pose and wagged his index finger at the other prince. “Worry not, Prince Morton! For I meant what I said.”

He flipped his hair, producing more anime sparkles. Morton sneezed. “Dear Luigi and I are merely close friends. Bosom buddies, if you will.”

“BUZZ??”

“Nevermind all that,” Peasley waved his hand at the topic. “I can’t promise I'll stop visiting Luigi but rest assured, I am no love rival. That I swear.”

Morton blinked, brain still trying to process the flowery language.

“And with that, I bid you adieu!” Suddenly, the cell wall behind the bean prince exploded and he lept backwards, landing on... a bean platform with wings?

“WAIT!” Morton yelled, grabbing his cape and almost yanking Peasley off his ride. “DON’T- DON’T TELL!”

The prince gave him a smile and tossed a golden rose at his face. “You have my word that I will keep the koopa king’s crush a secret.” It’d be more fun to watch what would happen anyway. They’d be an interesting match for sure.

Morton watched the prisoner fly away; he was still there 15 minutes later when Roy came down to take his glasses back and started freaking out about the blasted hole in the dungeon wall.

BONUS:

morton was spying on luigi and kidnaps prince peasley because he thinks they’re either dating luigi, or that luigi has a crush on the prince (that’s in the past but he still gets blushy)

peasley cut the ropes, i remember he had a sword in one of the games but he either has a dagger here or the sword can change size

peasley won’t tell anyone (including luigi or bowser) about bowser’s crush, or that morton accidentally told him BUT! he will consider flirting with luigi in front of bowser a little, just to speed things along

#my words #my fanfic #fanfiction #shapeshiftinterest #theme event #bowuigi valentines event #games #mario #bowser #luigi #morton koopa jr #roy koopa #roy #koopalings #prince peasely #LGBTQA #bowuigi #luigi is not the one getting kidnapped

112 notes · View notes

lilkrissmuffett · 10 months ago

Text

Don't Let the Bedbug-Man Bite

(Part II)

Perfect Cell/Fem!Reader

NSFW. Approximately 3k words.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Read part I here!

Roused from the unconscious void just before day breaks, your sleeping form shudders awake from the touch of something warm and sticky-wet against your bare shoulder. Clawed fingers card through the knotted mess of your hair and brush it away from your eyes as they flutter open, only to be greeted by darkness. And yet, you have to admit it almost feels kind of…nice. To wake up in the arms of someone (or something) that wants you there.

Even if it happens to be a murderous bio-android with a severe god complex and almost zero empathy for good measure.

“Whuh…huh?”, you mutter groggily, yawning into your pillow as you again feel what must be the android’s surprisingly soft lips, this time suckling at the sensitive skin right beneath your ear. You can hear the faint, low rumble of his dark laughter as he pulls away, shooting upright in bed and abruptly dragging you with him in the process. Your head reels with whiplash, leaving you dizzy for a moment. But it takes another few seconds for you to realize Cell is holding you in his lap, powerful arms wrapped around your waist. He squeezes you like a well-loved stuffed animal and you swear you hear your ribs creaking. You grimace, knowing for a fact that he’s probably grinning like a fiend at the mere thought of the pain he’s causing you.

“Good morning, pet. Awake at last, I see! I hope you weren’t planning on slumbering the whole day away.”, he chides you gently, kissing his way up the nape of your neck until he’s resting his chin atop your head. You scowl and gesture to the digital alarm clock sitting on what used to be your father’s side of the bed. The numbers glow a garish shade of red in the darkened bedroom.

“Christ, gimme a break, will ya? It’s literally five in the morning and your stupid game doesn’t start ‘til like noon, soooo…can you NOT?”, you respond with a childish whine, hating the fact that this creature's uncanny mockeries of human affection can still melt you into a puddle, regardless of how convincing it sounds.

Cell doesn’t even glance at the clock. He doesn’t need to. Time is too much of an irrelevant, man-made concept for a perfect being like himself to be much bothered by it. He is, however, annoyed by your complaining. Releasing you from his arms, he levitates your body off the bed with a wave of his finger and flings you onto the floor. None too gently either.

You hit the polished hardwood and skid into the wall with a decidedly unladylike grunt, face-planting on the ground with your ass in the air briefly before toppling over on your side. “Owwww…What the hell was that for?!” And there you go, whining again. Cell responds by crossing his arms over his chest and clearing his throat. Loudly. Something that an artificial being should never have to do for any reason other than to demand attention. That’s when you realized you must’ve really rustled his jimmies with that rude remark.

“Ah-heh-hem. You will not address me in such a disrespectful manner again, human.", he scolds you firmly, though there remains a faint hint of amusement in the curve of his lips, "Know…your…place. And that is either by my side like the good girl I know you can be…” Quick as a flash and the buzz of bio-mechanical wings, Cell is now looming over you, his bright yellow boot nudging you over onto your belly and soundly planting itself right on top of your spine. The squeal of a hinge in need of oil undermines the current threat he poses…but not by much. That shit hurts.

“...OR crushed beneath my foot like the rest of this planet’s miserable vermin.”

Just then, it dawns on you, that overwhelming sense that something is missing. All of a sudden, you aren’t thinking about the irony of getting stepped on by an overgrown bug. Instead, you’re whipping your head around in a near state of panic, shaky hands frantically pawing at the floor. The stress causes your voice to rise sharply in pitch as your throat tightens, scratching at the lacquered hardwood finish before you raise your trembling hands to your face. Dry, brick-colored residue caught beneath your nails, smelling of copper, snaps you out of your momentary panic and you round on Cell (or try to, anyway) with a shrill accusation.

“Ummm…Where are they?? W-what did you do with- with my—”

“Hm? What are you talking about?” Cell’s deep, butter-smooth voice is cool and maddeningly calm. He senses your distress and slowly lifts his weight off of your back before crouching down next to your squirming form, one arm casually draped across his knees. His eyes are aglow with curiosity now that much of his earlier anger has dissipated.

“M-my mom!! And dad! And-and…the blood– there was…so much blood…”, you blurt out, dangerously close to tears as you instinctively curl yourself into the fetal position. The android observes this little tantrum with a jarringly stoic expression, in stark contrast to your anguish-contorted features. He peers down at you, unblinking, taking stock of the range of emotions on display and mentally logging them away for future reference. As super intelligent as Dr. Gero’s most perfect creation may be, Cell is not exactly perceptive when it comes to understanding, well…feelings. But to his credit, you find that he’s learning quite a lot from what you’ve been teaching him. Inadvertent as those lessons are.

“Aw, now, now...Come here.”, he finally offers, reaching down to hoist you up by your arm and help you to stand on your own two feet. You sway and wobble for an awkward second or two, but he supports you with strong, steady hands on your hips, drawing you in. You bury your face in his chest, wetting his shiny plate armor with your tears. But Cell doesn’t seem to mind. He may absolutely detest whining and complaining and just general bratty behavior, but crying is a unique and fascinating concept to a creature that cannot produce tears of their own. In fact, he normally takes every opportunity to encourage it, but this time he deigns to show a shred of sympathy towards you instead of actively exacerbating what turned on the waterworks in the first place. Tipping your chin up with one finger, he uses his thumb to gently wipe your cheeks dry, mindful not to mar your delicate skin with his sharp, black nails.

“Not to worry, dear. I took it upon myself to properly dispose of the corpses after our coupling in the wee hours of the morning. I rightly assumed it would be prudent to clean up the mess while you were fast asleep, lest I upset you and provoke more of those…irritating mouth-sounds.”

You can practically hear the way his upper lip curls in disgust on that last part, which is also what may have sent you over the edge into full-blown rage mode. Your whole body goes rigid, shoulders shaking as you attempt to angrily shove him away. Naturally, he doesn't budge at all; you may as well be a mouse trying to move a mountain...or more accurately, a sentient battle-tank.

“Those corpses…? That so-called ‘mess’ you cleaned…? Yeah, that was my family, you monster!”, you ground out through grit teeth as you plant your palms on Cell’s exo-skeletal chest-plates, trying in vain to wrestle yourself out of his clutches. Your fingers ball up into tight, white-knuckled fists and start pounding away, but the most you can do to make yourself feel even a smidge better is continue to verbally assault him.

“God DAMMIT, they fucking…raised me, they- they loved me, they took care of me my whole LIFE and you—”

“And I…do not?”

You pause, noticing that Cell is barely reacting to your impassioned blathering, much to your surprise. Merely sliding his hands up along your back, he lifts your shirt with his movements to better feel the warmth of your skin. He rubs in soothing circles, lightly tracing the shape of your spine as you dissolve into wordless, hiccuping sobs. What you don't see during your brief outburst, is your captor staring down at the top of your bowed head with a mix of mild confusion and…something else that might’ve been mistaken for genuine concern.

“There, there...surely my pet knows better than that. If I did not care for you, I could safely say that you would have already joined your dear parents at the bottom of the ravine not a mile behind this very domicile.”

Frozen still at Cell’s well-articulated, but frighteningly casual point, you try your best not to blow up all over again. Pissing off a ruthless death machine hell-bent on obliterating the entire human race would not be your smartest life decision.

But it might be the last.

“Now. Eyes up here, kitten.”, he commands, knowing that this particular pet-name has the ability to lower your defenses, rendering you even more vulnerable than usual. Crafty bastard. “I would like to see your face. Even when you are not smiling, I find that your appearance is quite visually engaging to look upon.”

“Pff- Wow, you suck at compliments.”, you pout, sniffling a bit as you reluctantly raise your eyes to meet his own. You absolutely can’t stand that Cell can tame your fury so quickly just by virtue of being himself. Pompous, self-important windbag that he is.

“Oh? Well, would it be more acceptable if I said that the sight of your physical form stimulates my pleasure receptors?”

“Uh...you’re getting warmer, I guess...” Unable to suppress a bittersweet smirk at just how clueless Cell can really be, you’re quick to notice that his reply is as predictably him as you’d expect.

“Am I really?”, he asks with a slight raise of a brow-ridge. “Hmm…that is a bit odd. Perhaps I should run a core temperature diagnostic and…”

“No, no, that’s not…wait a sec.”, you sigh in exasperation, shaking your head and pinching the bridge of your nose. “What I meant was that your second try at complimenting me was better. Kinda weird and awkward, but still. Not awful.”

Confusion gives way to a toothy smirk, fangs bared and magenta eyes gleaming with pride when he scoops you up as if you were nothing but a doll. Your feet dangle in the air helplessly while Cell looks you up and down. But before you can voice a single word of protest, he hugs you close and presses his lips to yours. Hungrily. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was practically starving for you. It's no wonder, since you doubt that a seven-foot cicada man born in a mad scientist's laboratory could possibly have much experience in the ways of...l'amour.

“Ahh, my darling pet. I am glad to be able to please you with my words as well as the rest of my perfect form.”, he purrs between slow, deep kisses, slipping his long, violet-hued tongue into your mouth without warning, tangling with yours. He's aggressive, though you can tell that he's trying to show some semblance of restraint just by the way he doesn't try to smother you to death. But as he explores every ridge and crevice of your teeth and gums, it somehow feels even more disgustingly intimate than when you were riding his nasty hentai tentacles. Cell doesn’t kiss you like he wants to kiss you. He kisses you like he wants to absorb your very essence. “However, I must admit I do enjoy this sort of activity. Quite a lot, in fact. You taste almost as delicious as you look…Almost.”

“Mmm…Cell, are you saying you think I’m, like…pretty?”, you manage to murmur against his mouth, unable to get used to the strangely chemical, yet faintly sweet taste of him, almost like licking a latex glove dusted with sugar.

This unusual show of candor earns you a low chuckle, humming like a revved engine motor at the back of his throat.

“Perhaps. Perhaps I am.”

He mouths along the line of your jaw before settling on the side of your neck, latching onto the soft flesh as if to suck you dry. The hand that isn’t cradling the curve of your waist sneaks further south, helping itself to a handful of your ass as you wrap your legs around him. His chest rumbles with approval when you inevitably arch into his touch, savoring the power he wields over someone much smaller and weaker than he.

“Heh…So needy~", he teases, pulling away from your kiss-bitten skin with a wet, suctioned pop. I can see that it does not take very much to arouse you, human. Even your scent strongly indicates that your womb is fertile. That you are primed and ready to, as you would so crassly put it…get fucked?”

Aaaand there’s that trademark condescension again. Oh, how you’ve…not missed it at all. Still, you’re already a bit too turned on for his big, dumb mouth to kill the mood yet. Something about that vulgar word rolling off his tongue in that ridiculous pish-posh accent of his makes your thighs clench a little tighter around the solid pillar of muscle that is his waist. “Nngh– S-stop it…I’m supposed to be pissed at you, remember…?”, you grumble indignantly, looking the other way in red-faced shame as Cell leans in to playfully nip at your earlobe, tugging the studded piercing between his teeth.

“Pretty thing…Did I not tell you once before?”, he growls seductively, breath hot and moist and yet somehow weirdly sterile as it fans across your flesh. He wields every new word he learns from you like a weapon he doesn’t even need. “I can make you forget…everything.” Cell’s voice is hushed yet softly evil, his tone as tender as the touch of his claws teasing across the small of your bare back. He takes one of your hands in his, lifts it to his mouth as if to kiss it. But instead he goes for the thumping pulse point of your inner wrist, slowly tracing the visible veins with his tongue, causing you to wince uncomfortably and turn your face literally anywhere else until he finally lets go. The touch of this cold-hearted machine softens you like nothing else, his voice makes you shudder like you've just seen the ghost of a future long since passed.

Everything.

You cling to his muscular torso as the first rays of early morning sun begin to seep into the room. He’s the harbinger of the coming apocalypse and yet you somehow find safety in the hard shell of his embrace. Whether or not he plans to exterminate you once he's drained every drop of entertainment's worth from planet Earth is no longer a question, it's not like he can carry you off to the far reaches of space like in some inane fairy tale with a dark sci-fi twist. It is inevitable that Cell will emerge the victor in his silly, pointless little tournament and the world you know will be reduced to nothing but a cloud of stardust caught in the beat of his wings while he gracefully flies away without a backwards glance.

A wild thought strikes you out of the blue as you marvel at how truly terrifying Perfect Cell appears bathed in the light of dawn, towering and regal in his sharp-featured, otherworldly beauty. You can feel his gaze following yours as it roams from the tall peaks of his crown to the flawless, marble-white skin between his neck and shoulders. Why do you want to kiss it so badly?

How can such a threat sound so…sweet?

“I am the only exception, pet. I am all that remains.”, he finishes with unwavering conviction. Like his word is absolute. Perfect.

And the worst part is…you’re starting to believe it.

#my writing #mister perfect cell 💚#perfect cell #dragon ball cell #dragon ball #ao3fic

14 notes · View notes

misschimotosuwa-blog · 2 years ago

Text

Chi Awaits

Genre: hurt/comfort

T/W: none

A/N: I've had it stuck in my head forever that I'd like to see what it's like to be Chi, especially when she waits at home for Hideki. So this fic is you in the perspective of Chi.

"........Hideki?"

“…Hi… de… ki…..?”

You stared at the door that Hideki left through. Pain filled your chest.

“Why does Chi’s chest feel this way whenever Hideki leaves?”

You closed your eyes and clenched your chest as you felt overwhelming emotion come over you.

darkness.

light.

a voice.

“….i….”

“……..Chi”

“Who is that? Who is talking to Chi?”

A warm presence surrounded you from behind and covered your eyes.

“shhh… Chi… it’s okay… I am here.”

“….who is here…?”

“You. I am you.”

“Me?”

“Yes… your chest has been tight ever since Hideki left, is this correct?”

“Yes” you gushed with pain. “Chi doesn’t know why, but Chi wants to always be by Hideki’s side”

The figure referring to herself as you, sighed. She then released her hand from your eyes and moved in front of you. She placed her hand on your cheek and looked into your eyes.

“Chi… do you love Hideki? Is he “The Someone Just For Me”?”

You pondered.

“Does he love you and only you? Do you only want to be by HIS side?”

“Chi only knows things Hideki taught her but…”

“But”

“Chi does know that her heart aches for Hideki. Not for Manager or any customers, or Sumomo or Miss Manager. No. Chi’s chest only feels this way for Hideki”.

The figure caught you in a warm embrace. Then pulled back and smiled.

“Then that settles it. Hideki is “The Someone Just For Me”! You must confess and see how he feels!”

You stopped. Then a smile took your face and you looked up at the figure. “Yes! Chi will confess to Hideki!”

Almost immediately, the vision of the figure faded.

*step step*

You could hear footsteps in the hallway, and your chest leaped with excitement.

The door handle turned.

You raced towards the door.

The door opened.

The Man you loved stood in the doorway.

You leapt onto him and pinned him to the ground.

“Hideki! HIdeki! Hideki!!!”

Hideki chuckled.

“What’s all this about Chi?”

You mustered up your courage and gathered your thoughts.

You looked him straight in the eyes.

“Chi is in love with Hideki. Is Hideki in love with Chi?”

“…H…whuh??”

“Whenever Hideki leaves, Chi’s heart feels like it’s getting twisted tightly. Chi only ever wants to be by Hideki’s side.” You placed your hand on Hideki’s chest snd looked as if you would cry.

“Chi….”

You looked more earnestly into Hideki’s eyes.

“Hideki? Are you The Someone Just For Me?” You gripped his shirt.

Hideki blushed furiously as he tried to gather his thoughts.

Silence.

He sat both of you back up and embraced you tightly.

“I don’t know what that means… or if I can live up to that title… b-but…” His chin rested upon your head as he squeezed you tighter. “Yes Chi… I have fallen in love with you too… and I’ll do everything in my power to protect you and provide for you!!”

Your chest knots untwisted, and felt light as a feather… almost bursting with glee.

You pushed out of the embrace to look at Hideki. A giant smile painted across your face as you tackled Hideki to the floor again and nuzzled his face. “Hideki! Hideki! Hideki!!!”. You kicked your legs happily in the air.

Hideki smiled and pet your head lovingly.

You pulled at his shirt “Chi is happy… very happy… that Hideki loves her too…”

“Oh Chi…”

You looked at each other.

“….I’m happy too”.

#chobits chii #chobits fanfic #chobits #chi x hideki

15 notes · View notes

s0lar-ch3ri · 11 days ago

Text

if only you knew what goes on in my mind (another fizzfags fic)

no spoilers but absolutely ooc i fear also like. sleep deprivation ig (title is in mind by madelyn mei i think)

the ao3 link can be seen below

“Theo? Hey man, you okay?”

“Whuh? Oh, yeah man, I’m fine.”

“No, you're not, you can’t lie to me.”

Theo was absolutely not fine. Awake purely through the power of several copious energy drinks and coffees, Theo had been awake so he could talk to his boyfriend at night (daytime is where he’d sleep, and Theo knows to not disturb that) and function as a member of society in the day. However, for some reason, his body still didn’t like being awake for what was at this point around 72 hours.

“I have no clue what you're talking about babe.”

Emizel got on top of Theo, getting a closer look at his partner’s recently sunken life-filled eyes. He rubbed the bags that’d been forming under Theo’s eyes. Theo felt his face go a little red, a mix of embarrassment and love for the cute vampire boy he had been playing video games with just before.

“These? Do they ring any bells? Man, I’m meant to be up right now, what about you? You're like…well you're more than just a dude, you’re my best friend and boyfriend, but like, you’re human. How fucking long have you been up?”

“Not that long dude, it’s no big deal.”

“Theo Collins.”

Theo goes silent. God could this man read him like a fucking book. Was it cause he drank his blood? No, it’s just because he knew Theo. He knew Theo would pull some dumb shit like this.

“...Emizel Tucker.”

“How long.”

“Maybe like…3 days?”

“Wha- fucking hell man, jesus…” Emizel gagged, then looked back at Theo. “I’m still awake because we both know what would happen in the day, but I get some fucking sleep then. You…are you staying up just to talk to me and shit?”

“Well, like, kinda-”

“No. Nuh uh. You're going to sleep now.”

“What? Come on man, it-”

“Nuh. Uh.” Emizel turned off the switch and put the controllers back in the side. “Off to bed with you.”

“Psh, who are you, my dad?”

“Worse, your boyfriend, and I know my boy’s weak spots, come on.” Emizel picked Theo up with ease by his waist, and plopped him somewhat carefully onto the mattress. Getting situated, in no time was Emizel cuddling with Theo, the 2 messily entwined. Theo felt under his chin the feeling of hair.

“Bastard.”

“Don’t talk. Sleep. I’m going night night too.”

“This is gonna fuck up your sleep schedule dude, I couldn’t do that to you.”

“I fucked with yours already, so it’s even.”

“I,” Theo yawned. “I am fine.”

“You're the worst liar, alive and undead.”

“Fuck off.”

“Ooooooooooo, give in to the slumber temptations….”

“I hate you.” Another yawn. Even with his iron will, Theo couldn’t help but succumb to the feeling of tiredness. In the arms of his loved one, head on top the other, as though they were some tangled wires, he drifted off to rest.

#jerwee supreme #the bright smoothie of words #atvl this ones not long!!!!#jrwi fic #jrwi fizzfangs #jrwi soda #jrwi emizel #emizel tucker

0 notes

asbestieos · 2 years ago

Text

the context is my non enstarrie friend bestie made a writing game out of combining TWO (2) enstars characters, making a fankid from them, and writing out a hypothetical meeting between parents and fankid ^_^ dont think about how this meeting is happening in the first place. dont think about the temporal or spacial dilations nedcessary for any of this to happen .dont think about it too hard . there is no real logical explanation other than shenanigans. anyway have fun!!! @bluestbluejay @head-full-of-empty

“Thanks for coming in, Chiaki-san.”

Chiaki nodded to Madara as he slid his coat off, eyeing the child sat atop Madara’s bed. He couldn’t have been older than ten.

The boy’s hair was dark brown near the ends but a brighter orange at the top. Though cut relatively short, it covered his ears and seemed to brush upwards at the back. He wore a puffy little white jacket, a red t-shirt sporting the image of some kind of humanoid monster, and cargo shorts. Freckles adorned his cheeks, pupils the same hue as Chiaki’s own.

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! RYUSEI Red!” the kid gushed, his eyes abright with excitement.

“… Haha! Mikejima-san, it’s not like you to host a private meet-and-greet!” Chiaki exclaimed, offering him a grin. “Who’s this little guy?”

Madara, who had closed the door to his dorm, now leaned against it, arms crossed. His face maintained its detached smile, but his eyes were creased with concern. More than usual.

“According to himself… that’s ‘our’ child.”

Chiaki blinked, all of his RYUSEI energy quickly draining from his body and face.

“Whuh?”

“Madara, shhh!” their apparent ‘child’ hushed, a finger to his lips. “Someone outside could hear you! In public, Chiaki is RYUSEI Red, not my dad!”

Though flubbing his words, Chiaki tried to recover, “Our— Our child?”

“Oh, sorry… I’ll introduce myself!” The boy straightened his back, setting a fist on his chest. A wide grin decorated his face. “My name is Yuki Judai[1], but m’ birth name is Morisawa! Nice to finally meetcha, Papa! Or- I can’t say that… Chiaki!”

Chiaki felt as if he might pass out.

“Chiaki, is Madara watching me?” Judai asks one night, just as a tired Chiaki, eyes bogged down by sleepless months between idol work and childcare, tucks him into bed.

It takes Chiaki a moment to absorb the question, and even then, he’s perplexed and disoriented from exhaustion. “Hm? Aahh… What do you mean…?”

Judai falls quiet, his gaze directing towards the wall. Chiaki takes the silence as hesitance.

“I’ll listen to you, Jyu.” He rests a hand on the child’s head, gently petting it.

“Sometimes Koko[2] and me watch mahoshojo movies when I’m over at Kuro’s,” Judai mumbles. “And sometimes, when the protag girl’s mom is missing, it turns out her mom was watching over her the whole time, but couldn’t live with her, to protect her.”

Oh. Chiaki’s eyes widens.

“Is Madara watching over me like that?” Judai’s gaze slides back towards Chiaki, who now looks away at the floor.

Of course it’d be a heavy question. Another one he couldn’t answer honestly. Another white lie he had to give to spare him some of the heartbreak Chiaki carried himself.

Chiaki drew his memories back to the last time he spoke to Madara . A few years ago, just a few months after Judai had suddenly came into their lives. They’d agreed to cut off contact completely for the sake of their careers, and it was on Chiaki to raise ‘their’ kid on his own as subtly and secretly as he could to avoid scandal. Even in all their time together, Madara never said a word of why — beyond he ‘didn’t want them to be hurt’.

It was maddening. How was Chiaki supposed to tell their kid that? How was he supposed to take that as anything but treason, anything but Madara Mikejima once again abandoning those he loved, doing what he thought would spare their feelings (and maybe his own)? And though Chiaki objected afterwards, since that day, he could never get in contact with Madara, even as he continued to tour as MaM.

There were signs that Madara still cared. Occasionally, sometimes with weeks between, unmarked envelopes with checks of thousands of yen upward arrived in his mail, so the two of them must still be a thought in Madara’s mind. But not enough to warrant visits or calls or even letters beyond money.

Maybe it was time to break that truth to Judai. That Madara wasn’t watching and never was, that he would never acknowledge either of them again. A small part of Chiaki believes Judai had already figured it out on his own anyhow. An even smaller part of him, the one keeping their reality in the dark from Judai in all that time, tries to claw his throat shut as he opens his mouth.

Before he can speak, Judai turns over on his side and tucks his head under the covers.

“Nevermind. Sorry I asked.” He whispers, “I already know he’s not paying attention. You don't, either.”

His heart drops to the floor and shatters like glass.

His mind now scrambled, Chiaki tries to force what comforting words he had out. Something to the tune of no, no, he loves you or he still thinks of you. The usual words given whenever Judai’s mourning Madara’s absence. Anything to tide him over until the morning when Chiaki would hopefully be more awake, have more energy to sort out the mess of a mental state both of them must be in, have more time to squeeze between jobs and RYUSEITAI practice.

Instead, he relents quietly, “I’m sorry, Judai.” He rubs the kid’s back through the blanket, offering what little comfort he could give without lying through his teeth for once. Surely it wasn’t enough. Far from enough. Years of starving for their affection could hardly be satisfied by a backrub.

“… Tell you what— I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, okay? Omurice with ketchup and maybe some miso.”

He doesn’t expect a reply, and he doesn’t receive one. After a good amount of silence, once he can hear Judai’s incredibly fake snores, Chiaki leans down and kisses his head through the blanket.

“Goodnight,” he sighs, finally rising to leave.

[1] sorry only the Yugioh GX luvin girlmutuals will understand this one, judai yuki just reads sooo ChiaMada baby to me

[2] bs'd name for kuro's little sister ^_^

um tee hee tenk yu for reading the silliness. i was super bored and nutricula besties helpedme kill my boredom with this writing game :thumbsup: tenk you nutricula girlmutuals

twirls hair cutely would anyone want to read silly chiamada drabble

#piper ens posting #.#..#...#....#enstars #chiamada #madachia #sarv dont look #sarv look away #<- I THINKI HAVETO TAG FOR SARV I. DONT REMEMBER #ophanem art

24 notes · View notes

marwhoa · 2 years ago

Text

request: marloweeee c; ‘tis me (tmntxthings) what about a oneshot for 2012 vampire!donnie x fem or gn reader?! the rest is up to you though a dash of jealousy would be amazinggg orrrr vamp!donnie being like a super-mega bad boy and reader gets warned against falling for him but reader is just like “so he’s a bit of a fixer-upper, that’s a minor thing~” iendjcksoejddi idk totally up to you I’ll love anything you write <33333

🝮 “ the sheep loves the wolf ”

2012!Vampire!donnie x female!reader

author’s note: hihi !! I love 2012 donnie smsmsmsmsmsm, so this request got me squealing !! there are a few… side characters! I’ll put all their text in green, to minimize how many different colors I’m using, so don’t get confused like, “Whuh, I thought he was green, why is she green too?” They’re just all side characters in the story between donnie and y/n uwu as always, thank you for reading, and consider dropping me a cute wittle request!!

word count: 4.8k

The feet of two in love danced in synchronized steps, across the barren ballroom’s floor. Hand in hand, their eyes never left the other—completely captivated in their waltz. A loving sigh left Y/N’s lips as she was twirled in the hands of a dashing fellow with mahogany eyes that glinted a tad bit redder than she would have liked in the chandelier’s light.

Nonetheless, the red flags might as well have been green through her rose-tinted glasses as her dress bellowed and fluttered with each spin and delicate yet swift footwork. The two lovers made the dance look so much easier as they swayed here and there, fingers interlaced, hand upon shoulder, and the gentlemen’s hand fitting puzzle-piece-perfect onto the lady’s hips.

It was upon the last spin that Y/N had finally caught a glimpse of something much too frightening to mask. Some walls in the ballroom were dedicated to being pristine, decorative mirrors, so that it’s dancers could see them and their partner’s wondrous performance.

But, all she saw was herself, and her hands placed upon…

Nothing.

With a nervous intake of breath, a hitching in her voice, Y/N had tried to mask her discovery as she gazed back to her partner and saw he had been looking too. A skin-crawling grin crept upon his features, and goosebumps grew upon her smooth skin. Reddened irises glinted with hunger as they gazed upon the scared doe eyes.

“ Now, now, “

He purred, bringing their dance to a slowed halt. Your dress riveted as he pulled your shaken frame flush against him. The once-upon-a-time welcomed fingers caressed your chin, stroking with the kindest adoration—akin to possibly the same touch you would give to a treasure,

“ Why did you have to go and ruin the surprise with those curious eyes, my dear? “

Thunder echoed in the distance, illuminating the already dim room. Your skin crawled as memories of how you made it here flooded in.

———-

“ Y/N! Do not be foolish, you know we are not to follow the Willow’s path at night—have you no brain? Have you forgotten where that path leads, woman! “

Your frightened mother held your hand, tugging you away from a path your village had so fearfully deemed the forbidden trail—clearly-named-so by the path which was lined by dozens of weeping willows, far too breathtaking this time of year, and the creeping thyme had hues of purple that made that little route all too alluring. The wind bellowed through the willow’s tresses, and you couldn’t help but feel something pulling you forth. It was almost as though the wind was whispering your name.

“ Yes, mother, but I know how foolish the townsfolk are to be afraid. I have seen the man who lives atop the Willow’s path, and may I say that he is nothing like the tales say he is? “

“ You may not! Now hush that delinquent mouth and heed my words. I may be so kind as to forgive this insolence, but I assure you the foolish townsfolk will not take such sympathy for ye who dare fool with that monster. “

With a huff, your mother tugged you home. Upon your hips bounced a woven basket filled with various fruits and berries, as well as a handful of herbs, and even a vegetable here or there.

You were but a regular little lady in a humble village, raised on a story that one day four men had been ever so ignorant as to venture to the castle atop the weeping willows and creeping thyme hills. They were in search of the monster who lived there, plaguing the lands with an insatiable appetite of blood. Hope had riffled through the townspeople, hoping his reign upon them would finally be stopped by these sudden heroes.

Alas, not every story is meant for a happy ending. The four never returned, and the townsfolk were still ever so afraid as those drained of their blood appeared once again—though at a slower, much slower pace than before. Rumors spread that one of the men still roamed the castle grounds, agonizing the loss of his brethren while praying upon the youthful and naive ladies of your quaint community. Despite such a story, filled to the brim with reasons to never give in to the siren’s call that beckoned you up the purple-hues road—the one call that held your hand, tugging it as if to say, “ please, please. come help yourself, i guarantee your safety “, you still found yourself inching closer and closer to climbing the path.

With each passing day of the path’s begging you to come forth, your ability to resist it dwindled.

Some days it was stronger than usual. On those days, you would swear there were eyes on you. And one day, you had even been able to catch the eyes while picking medicinal herbs.

Your hands had brushes of green upon them, kisses left behind by the plants so mercilessly torn from the ground for human benefit. Your eyes held a calmness not even the ocean’s waves could achieve as glowing red eyes pierced through you. A smile quirked upwards as you shifted your sitting position to face him, smoothing out the skirt of your dress.

“ It’s you, isn’t it? The one in the tales, the rumored Count Dracula, lord of the vampires, right? “

The anticipation and excitement swirling in your eyes, twinged with a hint of courage and need to challenge, all disappeared with a trace as the red eyes contorted with a look of sadness.

“ The Count Dracula? “

His voice came out all too normal (go on, hide that disappointment! what, had you expected him to sound scarier? a disembodied, gravelly tone?), and all too depressed as he slips from the bushes. His tall frame was clad in full black & brown; a long trench coat, hat, neat button-up, and fancy shoes. Unlike the people of your town, this man seemed even less like the town’s story, and definitely less dangerous than when you had seen him at the hill’s tallest point one night, and a silhouette you assumed was tending to a garden? It was dark and far, forgive yourself for not having caught all the details!

“ I could never be that fool. “

His hands clenched into a fist as you caught what seemed to be anger. Turned to your basket, you would shift herbs here and there until digging out a pristine red apple that caught your eye on the way here.

“ My deepest apologies then, are you perhaps one of the four men who were said to have ascended the Willow’s path some time ago? “

Y/N extended the apple, hoping to offer it as an extension to her apology. Her smile grew as it was accepted by the gentleman’s gentle touch. Their hands brushed—hers with tinted green fingertips, and his with smooth leather gloves. It had flown straight over her head that the gloves had only three fingers.

“ I am, those other three men were my brothers. “

A crunch of the apple being bitten filled the blanketing silence. You hesitated, but after casting your gaze to the basket, you pushed on,

“ Were? “

“ Yes, I assure you my speech holds no errors. What I say is what I mean. “

“ May I ask what became of them? “

“ You may not. “

His red eyes met yours, and you felt a heartbreaking blue twist in your chest. That was the look of a lonely man who had quite literally lost everything.

Your conversation continued until your basket was full. By then, it was time for you to return home and he gave a tip of his hat as farewell before ascending the purple hills.

The siren’s call begged you to follow him, it whispered in your ear, “ go on, don’t leave the gentleman all by his lonesome. have you no heart? were those weary eyes not enough for you, dearest lady Y/N? “

Y/N continued home with her basket.

Come the next day and the next after that—and far more days after— you were always able to find him somewhere near you. Fear was a foreign emotion when he was near. One of the days, you finally caught his name, Donatello. Donatello Hamato. He was not a monster per se, but rather a mutant of sorts. He described it as having been similar to a yokai.

He was the remaining brother of three others like him, the lone survivor after they had taken care of the true Dracula. Amidst your amazement, never had it crossed your mind to question who exactly had been draining the ladies of the town. In fact, there had been no found bodies since you had met this man and been seeked out by him each time you tended to laundry by the river or collected ingredients for that night’s dinner. No, no, he was much too confident you would never question any of those things.

After all, your focus revolves around him. He had never not noticed your searching eyes, a sheep who brightened at the sight of the wolf rather than shrinking away and rushing to safety.

Even the townspeople were beginning to notice you, searching for someone no body knew. That was, until one unlucky day.

There was no need for you to be out collecting berries and herbs today—your daily treks had made the inventory far too full. They could survive a whole winter without another trek. So of course you would find yourself to be followed by the village’s strongest, a well-known Caspien from a family of hunters, sent to see what nefarious deeds hast led themselves to you.

“ I knew it, you have been bewitched for that monster, Dracula, and only come here for him to have easy prey. “

Standing beside an imprint in the grass, where you and the one you almost would call beloved had sat for so long, discussing this and that—in fact, you had learned something about him that made all the pieces fall together. He told you about a world—or, rather, a time? A time after this one?

No, never mind that. Y/N, startled, whipped around to have her eyes met with the hunter’s forestry green ones seeing through to her soul.

“ Ca-Caspien? What are you doing here, following a lady like this? Have you no respect or mind to know it to be inappropriate! “

You were nervous, taking a shaky step back each time he got closer. Never had you felt it with Donnie, but right here and now with Caspien, you couldn’t help but shrink into the role of a frightened sheep before the hunting wolf.

“ Y/N, dear, with all due respect, it is not inappropriate at all for a hunter to ensure the safety of his people. “

Caspien took more steps forward, cornering you until you lost your footing and thumped hard against the ground. Fearfully, your eyes watched as his hand reached out, gesturing to help you up. What did he have to gain being out here? Would he hurt Donatello? Would he…

Would he hurt you?

Y/N’s hand stiffened as it took his, trying to play this out normally.

That was, until her frame was yanked up from the ground, stumbling into Caspien’s chest before then being thrusted into the tree whose roots previously tripped her.

“ I will force that monster’s hold off of you, even if I am to need to slay it. “

Y/N trembled, from both the night air’s chill and from the fear that ran down her spine. That, and the pain from having been slammed against the rough surface.

Unbeknownst to either of you, there had been a pair of watchful eyes taking in the scene for the past few minutes. Had his hands not been obscured by leather gloves, then it would be visible just how pale they turned as he gripped a log his weight was knelt into.

The scene, before now, had come off to him as two lovers meeting beneath moon’s light, albeit with a little trip from behavior Donnie couldn’t reason with (who backs away from their lover?). This would have been something he ignored, had it not been you that was here. You dared to lead him on? To smile at him as you had all these days the two of you sat together? He watched with a grin as it seemed that your affair was to be falling through. This guy seemed like a far-cry from the gentleman Donnie would proudly say he was, and he hoped that the souring quarrel in what should have been a romantic moment would prove to you just how much better he was. He could only imagine you running to him, pretty lips glossed up and kissable, your eyes shining in their usual doe-like shimmer, and your impeccably soft hands caressing him.

That dreamy fantasy whirled around his head, until he started realizing this situation was much the opposite of what he had assumed. The pained sounds from you were doing things to him, and none of them were of the good, nonviolent, potentially suggestive kind. There was a raging flame he himself hadn’t known laid dormant within. He bared his fangs in the shadows, slowly losing his ability to resist intervening.

You weren’t meeting some random human here, in this very place where you and him would share your time together. No, no, you were coming to meet him, weren’t you? But this nosy human had come to disturb that, hadn’t he?

Donatello agonized over whether or not to appear between the two of you, tearing apart this rattlecap. It had worked in his favor this long to never appear before anyone aside from…

Well, that didn’t matter, since now he had you and a dastardly mutt dared lay his mangy hands upon you.

He wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt his beauty. So, when the softest squeak slipped your lips as this man dared injure you once more—pinning and frightening you—Donatello wasted no time in making it at your side.

Y/N whimpered in pain, closing her eyes and wishing for her special someone to rescue her from this hunter (though, part of you wanted him to stay away. What would Caspian do if he saw Donnie?). A hand placed itself upon her hips, and Y/N cringed at the sight she imagined opening her eyes to. Sure that it would be Caspien, far closer than she could ever need him to be and with his hands far from where they ever should be, her heart skipped as she opened her eyes who see the familiar brown collar of a coat. Topped with a fancy black hat.

“ Donnie… “

You whispered, your voice a mixture between afraid and affectionate. His hold on your hip tightened as your quiet voice reached his ears, feathering kisses with the innocent longing braided into each syllable. Your eyes trailed up to find his other hand latched tightly onto Caspien’s arm. For once, you saw the hunter assume the position of prey. You almost swore a cracking sound vibrated through the still night as Caspien tore his hand from your body and out of Donatello’s vice-grip.

“ Muh-Monster, you dare show your face here and hold Y/N as though she belongs to you? ”

The collar of Donnie’s coat might as well have been laughing a Cheshire’s bout as it was obscuring your vision, stripping your nosy gaze from catching the all-knowing smirk grow upon the tortue’s face.

“ How laughable is it for the monster to call someone else a monster. No, no, you are not the monster—not the one who held his hand to a lady! The monster could never be the one who forced himself upon an innocent lady? “

His arm pulled you closer. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was preparing to move…?

“ I believe we both know who is the true monster here, O’ Great Hunter Caspien. “

He was taunting the hunter, Caspien. And for what, to throw him off his rhythm? Or just for petty delight? Regardless the reason, you had no time nor leisure to analyze anything. There was only a split second to respond as the atmosphere thickened, and you watched Caspien’s hand move to his hip.

“ Donatello! “

Cried out Y/N as she put all her strength and weight into shoving him out of the way. A shot rang out, followed by her fearful shriek, but thankfully the bullet had missed them both—whether that was from your quick thinking or Caspien’s shaky aim was anyone’s guess, though.

Anticipating to slam against the ground, Y/N was surprised to instead feel weightless and hear the wind whisking past her. It felt like it was bellowing down her bare skin, as though to be running faster than humanly possible. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes to see she was held against Donnie’s chest, and he was running—no, leaping? No, they were quite literally soaring through the tree tops! It was right about now that the stories of his ninja training played back in your head.

Your hold on him tightened and your face buried in his chest, letting slip the content smile he had as he realized you were becoming his more and more, bit by bit. What didn’t slip, however, was the slight tremble you felt while pressed against him.

“ I’m sorry. “

He said, a gasp escaping you as he thumped down to the ground while holding you securely. Donnie straightened up, placing you down outside the window of your room.

“ Why? “

Your hand lingered on his chest, falling after a few extra seconds of shared silence.

“ For letting you get hurt. “

Donnie decided it best to hold his tongue and not tell you he had been watching it play out with jealousy whirling around his head. But, his hands stroked where the hunter’s hand held you much too tightly. You shared his gaze, looking at were a dull pain radiated. For a second, you shifted the shoulder of your dress to reveal the faintest crescents starting to pearl a ruby red.

The man before you found himself blushing for more than one reason, averting his perverted gaze from both the bare skin of your shoulder and the beads of blood growing. You shifted your dress’s fabric back, seeping into the uneasy quiet.

“ … “

Y/N bit her lip before going in for another hug. She just knew he wasn’t the bad person everyone thought he was, and that made falling in love with him all the more easy.

“ You couldn’t have known, but I am grateful to have had a knight such as yourself rescue me. “

You stared into his mahogany eyes, noticing a slight unsettling white glow. Was the moonlight hitting his eyes just right? You gave but a quick glance up to the moon, noticing clouds covering its pale spotlight that could have casted that shine to his eyes. But, before being able to put anything more together, Donnie’s hand turned your head back to him by holding your chin with a light pressure.

“ A knight? Why, my lady, you flatter me..Though, I should leave you now, “

He smirked, winking,

“ Not appropriate to be with a lady so late at night. “

“ Wait, you heard that? “

“ Heard what? Y/N, I am a gentleman, and a gentleman knows how to treat a lady. “

He leaned down, placing a kiss upon the surface of your hand, before then taking a step backwards and waving goodbye. Back up the rolling hills, he went to the castle awaiting his return at the top.

You found yourself wanting to follow him, but instead you turned on your heel and went inside to sleep. Slumber found its way to you instantly, lulling you into its pillowy embrace. Alas, as quickly as sleep had come, just as swiftly away it would have gone, with you reawakening before the sun had risen. Your mother shook you awake, shouting to you things that your slumbering brain couldn’t make sense of. All you could see were glowing orange hues outside and your mother pushing a bag into your hand. Pulled from the bed and shoved out the back, your ears finally made sense of what she was shouting.

“ Y/N, you foolish, foolish girl! “

She sobbed out in harsh, choked whispers while shoving a wrap around your body to fight the midnight chill,

“ Go on, you have to get away! Sir Caspien is saying you were cursed by the monster, Dracula, and they have come to do away with you. “

Holding your face, she planted a rough kiss on your head before shoving you out and shutting the door.

Knowing she meant only the best, your tired hands clutched your bag and looked around. Where could you slip away to?! Where could you hide without them seeking you out? Where, where, wh—

The siren’s call came to you, but this time in the forms of three silhouettes, all beckoning you to follow them. Astral bandanas swayed in the wind as their whited out eyes watched you with anticipation, eagerly praying you would heed their call.

You were no fool. Giving in to the tempting invitation, you trailed after the three apparitions, and they led you up the Willow’s path. One held your hand, flashing a big toothy smile as he led you up. The other two lagged behind you, almost as if to protect you. Had you not been running for your life up the lavender hills, you may have noticed how similar these three looked to certain stories Donnie had told you of his brothers.

Never mind that, though. Y/N stumbled through the gates as they gave an eerie creek. She took a few hasty steps forward, crunching autumn leaves under the weight of her feet, before turning to look for the three spirits.

Nothing.

A chill ran down her spine, but a nervous gulp would push down all of that as she turned and ran up the castle stairs. The large door was given a heaving push then let to close behind her shaky frame.

It was dark, far too much to see, so instead Y/N took a blind step in the dark and readied her voice,

“ D-Donnie! “

Silence answered you, wrapping a shawl of empty fright around you. Your blood was running oh-so cold as tears threatened to slip, glossing over your eyes with an irresistible sheen.

“ Don—Donnie, please, it’s so—umphf! “

You stumbled, falling onto a soft surface. After a few pats, you deducted from touching it a few times that it was a carpet that you tripped on.

Well, touch, and the lights that came on just a second ago, illuminating the ornate indigo rug, tasseled at the edges. It rolled up the stairs, which split into two towards the top. A large painting was hung in the divide, between stairs going to the left and stairs to the right. Whatever was depicted had been slashed through, leaving hardly enough puzzle pieces to put the original back together.

But, that mattered far less than the figure descending the left side of the stairs, hand on the gold railing. The light basked his green skin in a warm orange hue.

“ Y/N? What are you doing here, at this hour? “

His voice was alarmed as he descended the stairs—though, looming behind him was a larger desire. Behind a mask, he was rejoicing at his victory. You had come up the path, and he didn’t even need to drag you here himself. His arms welcomed you, and you accepted the offer as you dove into the turtle’s comforting embrace. Snugly, he rubbed your back and gazed towards the windows. He wore a sinister grin, which melded into false security and worry as he pulled away from the embrace to feather-light stroke your cheeks.

“ Never mind my inquiries, dearest. Your silence is answer enough. I knew it would be only a matter of time before those snakes bared their fangs at the prettiest flower blooming. ”

You pressed into his loving hand with shut eyes. Soft sobs escaped you as light tears strum down your cheeks.

“ Where will I go, Donnie, they wish to harm me. Caspien has told my people that you have corrupted me, joined me to your evildoings, but dearest Donatello I know your truth,”

Had it not been for your softened heart, blurred eyes, and shaky touches, you would have caught how stiff those last four words made him.

“ M-My truth? “

He stammered, hands ready to betray their gentle hold on you.

“ Yes, I know you are not the monster they speak of, love. You couldn’t be. ”

Donnie loosened, leaning in close. His breath rolled over your delicate lips, of which were practically begging him to kiss them. Your doe eyes gazed up as you leaned into him, taking his lips for the first time.

One sweet kiss.

And one naive girl, obliging to belong to the true wolf.

———-

And that, my sweet lady, is how you got here.

In this gorgeous ballroom of the rumored Country Dracula’s castle atop the Willow’s path. Thunder rolled down the hills, illuminating your dimmed dance floor as well as the paths out below. Your heart dropped, seeing the smallest silhouettes in the distance marching forth.

“ Y-You … You were, you truly were the Count—-hyii! “

Y/N screeched as she was suddenly dipped, their previously dropped dance renewing itself. Her dearest partner had not missed the lamb’s eyes that gave one last once-over to the silver-backed mirrors that lined the walls.

“ Love, no. Heavens no, that was no lie. “

The dance which previously made you swoon was now making you sick. There were millions of thoughts rushing through your head: the silhouettes outside, that was the townsfolk in a mob, yes? Likely lead by Caspien, no less! And Donnie, he had no reflection, so surely that means he is… If not the monster, then surely a monster. But also, someone as kind as he—monster or not—could not truly be so foul? Though, there is the chance he could have been leading your poor heart along, but surely not! Could these gentle, loving hands truly be so…

Misleading? Manipulative? Desiring to corrupt?

“ Tut, tut, tut, Y/N, my lady, your mind seems to be straying when I,”

Another squeak slipped you as he spun you away from him then twirled you back, dipping you again with his face dangerously close. Your heart is sent fluttering.

“—should be your priority. “

The lovers’ feet begin to synchronize as he lavished your full attention.

“ As I have said before, I am not the Count Dracula. I wouldn’t even claim the title, despite living in his home. No, that, this home, I have taken as, say, payment. “

“ Payment? “

Your fingers interlaced, you noting his three fingers with familiarity.

“ Revenge might be a better word for it. My brothers and I were led here some years ago. Our guide, a time-keeper, had hoped we would be able to fix a small issue of hers. “

He spoke with a bitterness, tightening the hold his hand had with yours. You winced at this. Donnie noticed and was quick to correct his mistake.

“ The first to go was my brother, Raphael. Turns out the one true weakness my brothers and I shared was that we were powerful together, but if you take even one of us away, the rest will fall. “

“ Your brothers,”

Y/N had an eerie calmness settling in as she began to dance with almost the same liveliness as before she caught her dearest’s reflection. Her dress was riveting with almost as much excitement and energy.

“ Were they… Slain—ah! “

He pivoted, jerking you towards him with an almost graceful twirl.

“ Watch your tongue, Y/N. “

The spark of fear igniting once more in your eyes was enough for him to smirk. And this time, you caught it.

There was an uproar outside, muffled and distant, but slowly becoming too much to ignore any longer.

“ I… Apologize. For my reaction, but yes, they were… “

Your gaze left the window and returned to him. This time, he wore a new expression—one you hadn’t seen on him before. It was a sadness unlike any other you had seen. The way it played at the strings of your heart was all you needed to know for now.

You were truly, through in and throughout, enamored with Sir Donatello.. In far too deep…

“ Your silence is answer enough, my dearest Donatello… “

The way his eyes melted into yours… Whether they were just a clever ruse or a genuine show, you were prepared to venture down this path.

“ I… I am not afraid of you. That is a promise. “

“ Y/N… My lady, you are much too true and sweet. I fear you will be my undoing.. “

The two of you shared one more—or maybe, one last— kiss as the doors downstairs began to shake with thunderous banging and the crackling of outside lightning.

Everything was a recipe for tonight being a night no one would ever forget, for better..

Or for worse.

#Donatello x reader #Donnie x reader #tmnt Donatello x reader #tmnt Donnie x reader #2012 Donatello x Reader #2012 Donnie x reader #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt x reader #2012 tmnt x reader

351 notes · View notes

antilocaprine · 2 years ago

Note

2. Frenrey plz

(Kiss prompt list)

2. ...goodnight.

Gordon on morphine was the cuddliest, loopiest Gordon Benrey had seen yet. And given the fact that Gordon on morphine had decided that Benrey was his favorite teddy bear, he wasn’t complaining.

“I don’geddit. How’s your shirt so hard?”

Benrey glanced down. Gordon’s fingers were tracing over the panels of his bulletproof vest.

“That’s, uh…not my shirt,” he said.

Gordon gave him a puzzled look. “But you’re wearing it,” he said, forcefully.

“Yeah, well, you’re wearing this tin can, aren’tcha?” Benrey rapped his knuckles on the chestpiece of the HEV suit. Gordon looked down and started like he’d never seen it before. “Does that mean this is a shirt?”

“Whoa…” Gordon dropped both hands to his own chest and tapped at the orange metal. “This is th’ hardest shirt ever,” he slurred.

Benrey tried to shift over, to give Gordon some space to explore the suit he’d been wearing for days and was now looking at with new eyes - but Gordon just slumped over and ended up collapsed across Benrey’s lap.

“Um,” Benrey said, and gave the rest of the Science Team a wild-eyed look. “Help?”

“I think you have everything under control, Bipper!” Dr. Coomer chirped.

“Y-yeah, you’re - this is all OSHA-approved,” Tommy added, giving Benrey a thumbs-up.

“Betrayal,” Benrey complained, struggling not to pay attention to the warm weight across his legs.

“Oh, please, like this isn’t exactly where you want to be,” Bubby scoffed.

Benrey flipped him off. He wasn’t sure what else to do.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Bubby snorted. “C’mon, Harold, let’s give the lovebirds some space.”

“Ah, young love!” Dr. Coomer said brightly as he followed Bubby across the hall. Tommy got up to follow, and Benrey blanched.

“Tommy - no, Tommy, don’t,” he begged, reaching out a hand. “Don’t leave, he - he’s gonna sober up and think I - I did something, I need you to, uh, to…”

“Chaperone?” Tommy asked.

“I was gonna say be a witness, but, uh, yeah, that works too, I guess,” Benrey mumbled.

Tommy chortled and settled back down, his back against a looted snack dispenser. He had an empty bag of pretzels in his hands and twisted it idly, crinkling it back and forth. After a moment, the sound drew Gordon’s attention. He looked over sluggishly, then reached out like a toddler, wordlessly expectant. Tommy smiled and leaned forward to place the empty bag in his outstretched palm.

Gordon brought the bag back and held it over his face. He was on his back, now, with his head on Benrey’s thigh. He crinkled the bag himself, tightening and loosening his grip repetitively. Then he held it up, nearly clocking Benrey in the nose with it.

“Look,” he said proudly. “S’crunchy.”

“Yeh - uh, yeah,” Benrey cleared his throat awkwardly and plucked the empty bag out of Gordon’s lax grip. “That’s, uh…s’really cool. Good, uh. Good job.”

Gordon beamed up at him, and Benrey felt his heart actually stutter. He wasn’t aware it could even do that, and he didn’t know how he felt about it.

“You c’n keep it,” Gordon said magnanimously, and smiled expectantly. Benrey gave Tommy a confused look, and Tommy raised his eyebrows and wiggled his fingers. Benrey frowned at the bag and squeezed. It crinkled.

Gordon’s eyes almost completely closed from how wide he was smiling. “Good job, buddy,” he said, and Benrey’s heart stuttered again. Oh, he was so fucked.

“M’tired,” Gordon said after a minute of rubbing his gloved fingers together. “Gonna go t’sleep.”

Benrey blinked down at him. “Okay.”

“What’re you…get down here,” Gordon grumbled, and reached up to fist Benrey’s tie, yanking him down at an awkward angle. One of Benrey’s palms slapped the concrete floor to keep himself from collapsing onto Gordon, and the other came down on the chest of the HEV suit.

“Wh- what,” Benrey said blankly.

“G’night kiss,” Gordon said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Whuh -”

But Benrey didn’t even have time to ask Tommy what to do before Gordon’s other hand came up and tugged the back of his neck down close enough to haul his own head up and press their lips together.

Gordon’s lips were wet - he’d been licking them a lot since the suit malfunctioned and gave him a little too much morphine. He’d needed it after the fall he suffered, but this reaction was unexpected. Still, Benrey thought as he closed his eyes and sank into the kiss, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

Tommy cleared his throat loudly and Benrey jolted, pushing down on the chestpiece of the HEV suit enough to break Gordon’s hold. Gordon didn’t seem to care, gazing up at Benrey’s shocked face with a beatific expression. Apparently, as far as he was concerned, nothing was amiss.

“G’night,” he said, then rolled onto his side and snuggled down further onto Benrey’s lap.

Benrey sat motionless for a second before looking up at Tommy, whose eyebrows had almost reached his widow’s peak.

“Was that good chaperoning?” Tommy asked.

Benrey coughed and glanced down, but Gordon appeared to be unconscious. Benrey wished he was, too. “Uh, yeah,” he said instead. “That was, uh…great chapern - great. Thanks. Uh. Yeah.”

Tommy smiled at him, then shuffled down so he was reclining against the snack machine. “It was a good idea for me to stay,” he said happily. “Mr. - poor Mr. Freeman doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’ll appreciate knowing that, um, that we’re looking out for him in his vulnerable state.”

“Uh-huh,” Benrey replied vaguely, really wishing he’d let Tommy go with the others. He could have dealt with a lot of Gordon yelling at him later if he was also able to think back on kissing Gordon. He’d have to just be satisfied with the couple seconds he got, because it sure as hell wasn’t going to happen again.

“It’s a good thing Mr. Freeman’s suit got that software update,” Tommy was saying. “If the settings got messed up again, what - who knows how often this might happen?”

“Hmm,” Benrey said, his mind whirling.

“Yeah, it sure is good that everything’s fixed,” Tommy said.

“Uh-huh,” Benrey replied, barely listening. Software, huh? Video games were software, and he was a pro at video games. He could figure out the settings on the suit, probably.

After all, that may have been their first kiss - but there was no reason for it to be their last.

#hlvrai #my words #kiss prompts #snippets #askbox #becrimedogay #swearing #drug mention

105 notes · View notes