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afreakingdork · 7 months ago

Text

Spring Break

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader One-Shot

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, POV Second Person, Friends to Lovers, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Yearning, Romance, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, One-Shot

Synopsis: You're on your first spring break of college and returning back home to NYC. Donnie has agreed to pick you up from the airport and the season of change is ready to exercise its rights upon your friendship with him.

Also available on Ao3

I cannot thank @tmntxthings enough! She took my half formed plot bunny and helped me finish it up and embellish it with the cutest ideas!! This fic would not exist without her and she gets my endless affection! 💞

Plane descent, it was the one part of flying that really felt like a roller coaster. With its little dips and adjustments, your stomach would rise in turn. It made some sick, but you found it exciting. It was a manifestation of coming home. With each drop in altitude you were a little bit closer and, no matter how people felt about plane rides, the excitement was palpable. Even those tired and exhausted, ready for their changeovers, were glad for a moment on the ground.

This was your stop and you were especially excited for what waited for you.

Clinging to your phone, there was a final announcement and you looked out the window. Watching fields and houses grow closer and closer, your heart alternatively soared. Ants took on definition and eventually you were doing the careful careen through buildings to land in LaGuardia. With a squeaky landing that jarred your body, people stood through the taxiing process which prompted fights with flight attendants.

You were back in New York City.

A fervor running throughout the plane, there was still the docking process and each second ticked by through syrup until you got a text.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: I am at the appropriate baggage claim.

It was a new entry in a sea of others that had you momentarily closing your eyes. You then typed out a response about what you’d endured since landing and Donnie kept you occupied with messages right up until it was time to deboard. Bumping and jostling and giving appropriate glares back, you were soon just shy of running down a tunnel. Just like descent, you were closing in by the moment and once you broke free from a certain pair of doors, you paused only to take stock. It was fate, you thought, that people parted and there he was.

Donatello stood bundled up both for some kind of anonymity and the early spring weather. A balmy cool outside, trees were clinging for a bit more warmth before they burst with color. You were going to miss the blossoms this time around, but you had a lifetime of watching the petals dot the otherwise dirty streets before. You always liked this season. There was a sense of change in the air. A metamorphosis, you saw not just the growth between your youth and now, but everything from the last half year.

You were offered a full ride to a school all the way across the country.

You accepted and left behind everything.

The long days of your first semester would have been lonely if not for a certain purple coded turtle offering to marathon shows with you online.

You texted in the cafeteria until you found your crowd.

You continued to message him because he had to know the latest gossip.

A webcam was sent to you as a gift so you could better work on projects together across multiple state lines.

You clung to Donnie as a virtual lifeline through your first set of finals.

The Christmas holdover in California due to a lab opportunity had been a daunting choice.

It was made all the better as you were given a digital spot at the Hamato family table during Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Then came another bout of studying for midterms.

All to now, where he’d offered to pick you up after something had come up with your parents and you had complained of the taxi fare on your spring break budget.

You were in motion.

In fact, you were barreling towards him. He heard the footsteps, but didn’t connect them to your person as he looked up. Now knowing the source, he jammed his phone in his pocket and took on a sort of prepared alarm. Then, at the last second, he pivoted a foot out. A careful rotation, he lowered his stance into a readied one. It was all the confirmation you needed as you leapt.

He caught you at the same time for the hug and you crushed yourself to him. Momentum should have knocked the air out of you, but he swung. Your body twirled up with your heart and, by the time you were set down, you were groping to get more of him. This was new, you remembered. His scent wasn’t like coming home. You’d never been close enough to really get a whiff. Clinging to his worn hoodie didn’t crop up memories of softness because you had at most brushed it in passing.

You’d known this mutant for seven months and this was your first hug.

You wanted more.

Your only saving grace was he appeared to feel the same. For each tug, to get your arms tighter around his neck, he gave equal pressure around your waist. As you butted your head to his, he clawed into your own jacket, trying to get you that much closer.

It was warm.

It was overwhelming.

You didn’t want to let go.

“Hey.” You murmured against him.

“Greetings.” His voice responded. “How was your flight?”

“Good. Boring. Long.” You nuzzled closer.

“A full work day’s flight.” Donnie hummed, amused.

“Thanks for picking me up. It’s good to see you.”

Finally, after what must have been too long, Donnie pulled back enough to view you with a chide. “You as well.”

A little shy, your arms slipped to rest against his plastron and an announcement interrupted citing luggage. A quick check found you were at the right carousel and you sent Donnie a wry look. “We’re in the right place.”

“I was clear about my location.” He playfully rolled his eyes and reluctantly relinquished you to approach the long luggage circle.

You followed close behind and bumped arms with him. “Oh, there was this lady who would not stop yaking about the toast squares she got in that plane snack mix.”

“Ah, yes, the snack gacha.” Donnie chuckled and bags began to drift down the line.

He explained the odds and you walked him backwards through your trip. There was a gap from when you’d set off for your flight until arrival. He’d been on a video call when you’d packed your suitcase so when said luggage came winding down the metal slide, you didn’t need to say a thing. He knew it and hoisted it up where you shouldered your backpack. You’d returned with mostly things to wash, but you figured that was part of coming home.

You soon drifted away from the building. Working through the bustling drop offs zone, you headed to where Donnie had sequestered one of his vehicles. Parking cost too much for the tank, he settled on something visually low key though the interior was just as technologically stacked as the others. It was a resistance in temptation to press buttons on the dash you had never seen. They felt familiar as he’d taken you on a phone tour when he completed retrofitting the van, but it felt different in person.

Conversation took you home and, before you realized it, you were idling on the street.

Time had slipped through your fingers like water and you hadn’t cupped enough to drink. There’d even been traffic, you’d sat through it, but it hadn’t prolonged the journey. You were due inside. Your parents were waiting. You also would need to leave Donnie. He’d only ever been here to give you this ride. Heart sinking regardless, you moved to give Donnie your regards with a forlorn tilt of your head.

“Let me help you with your bag.” He rushed the statement.

Your eyes met.

You were both a little too eager to delay the inevitable.

“Thank you, I’d appreciate it.” You told him though your heart wanted to ask him over for dinner.

You’d already skipped coming home for winter break and there was no way your parents would allow an interloper to impede on catching up with their child.

You were required to spend time with them first, then friends.

Duty was a strange thing. It brought you home to mom even though you were an adult with a supposed choice. It had your friend hoisting your stuffed suitcase out of the back of a van where you had created the burden of the heft. You clicked up stairs, your luggage wheels hopping steps and Donnie felt the need to fill the space as if he were required to keep from giving you a moment of quiet.

You were thankful.

You didn’t want to think of how you’d miss him.

Again, he’d felt the same.

You liked that about him.

Reaching your door, you knew you hadn’t messaged your parents for this same reason.

It was your own coveted surprise amongst what you had to do.

Donnie was careful in carting your suitcase up silently.

It felt like a stolen moment. “We still on for Wednesday?”

“Yes.” He nodded and pulled up a ninpo calendar for the sake of it. “Mikey has forewarned Señor Hueso and if you make April wait a moment more, I think she will strangle whoever is closest.”

“Of course.” You bobbed your head and felt the reminder of the knob.

You needed to go home.

You needed to see your parents.

You hadn’t seen them in so long.

You hugged Donnie.

Slower this time, you still moved quick enough that you avoided the awkward shuffle. It was an instant threading of bodies where you had to stave off a sigh. You fit so well without practice and his toned arms slung so comfortably around your waist. You bumped your head to his for the sake of closeness. He stilled and you thought it too much until he turned his beak to nuzzle the side of your head. From his inhale, he was catching your smell so you openly breathed him in the same.

Then you came apart, heads down, unable to bear to see the other leave as you mumbled out promises of seeing each other soon.

Donnie left by the sound of stairs and you unearthed your key to head inside.

Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough.

The rest of your Saturday had been a flurry of catching up with your folks. You were pelted with every question under the sun and the few phone calls with them you’d had throughout the school year seemed to have never happened. Your parents remembered none of the details no matter how much you whined about how you’d already told them about your class load. You were struck with backhanded comments about missing the holidays and how this cousin had proposed and that nephew had gone skiing and would you believe the tan your aunt got?

Then came sleeping in your old bed which was now a foreign one.

You called Donnie with your headphones on and he answered after only one ring.

Unable to stand the odd sheets, you curled up beside your window for faint outdoor light and watched Donnie on screen eat snacks as you unloaded about how annoying it all was. You loved your parents, but it was always something. He took his time in the conversation after your most heated complaints were air cooled and then subjected you to his own. His family’s separation anxiety was on another level, but he never made it a competition. You instead felt commiseration, even if the comparisons were outlandish.

Exhaustion took you to bed and the old smell of you drifted up like one you didn’t recognize. You were just tired enough to mention the discrepancy and Donnie made a comment on how you’d changed. You weren’t sure you had as you hadn’t felt like it, but you guessed of anyone, he would know best.

How had that come to be?

Your best friend was here and someone you’d known since elementary school. You still loved them, but they’d fallen to a certain wayside once Donnie appeared. Meeting him had been an accident at best. From senior year finals, you’d picked up a local coffee shop as your own. During summer, you switched to drinks for fun instead of necessity and a new barista started that you liked. She was great at conversation and better at upsizing drinks with a wink so you always made sure to tip. There came a day when you forgot to have cash on hand and you promised to come back by to fork it over. Now on a first name basis, April had scoffed it off, but you still returned after making change at a nearby bodega. It hadn’t been more than 20 minutes and yet she had disappeared. You waited for her to return from break only to notice a mutant was similarly off to the side and one you’d come to find was waiting for the same April.

That was early August.

You’d gone to UC Berkeley in early September.

That was less than a month knowing the turtle in person.

Now you were drifting off to Donnie complaining about how he’d been found sneaking into East Laird’s lab yet again.

He just needed access to one chemical.

They wouldn’t miss it.

He’d doctored the supply sheets himself.

The janitor was paranoid.

You giggled and it must have come too late because he ordered you to sleep.

You told him you missed him.

In truth, you did.

He murmured the same along with a mention of Wednesday.

It wasn’t here yet.

Texting helped as Sunday led straight to a family meal with whoever was in town. You rehashed the exact same stories about school more times than you could count. Your scholarship was both held up like a heavyweight champ’s belt while others spoke to you like you were some Hollywood convert. It didn’t matter that there were six driving hours between the two places. You’d betrayed some inane state pride by going to a far flung college and whether that was a success or pompous choice was your family’s to debate.

You went to bed so angry afterward that you broke your 125 day streak of saying goodnight to Donnie.

You woke up under your old ceiling.

Breakfast reminded you of high school.

Dad had work.

Mom had lunch.

She talked and you listened.

You saw your best friend in the 3 o’clock doldrums.

It was awkward until it wasn’t.

It took about an hour, but you fell in line to your old pattern.

You meant to message your bestie more, but college had taken both of you in different directions.

Who’s this guy you keep mentioning?

Donatello, was it?

Did you meet someone?

What a story that was and it came with a growing smile from your best friend. Each passing word felt like guilt off your lips and you were teased mercilessly.

No, stop that! We aren’t dating!

Why would you ask?

It’s perfectly normal to help a friend out like he did.

Yes, we’re close.

Not that close.

He’s a nice guy.

Yes, really nice, what are you insinuating?

It wasn’t like that.

You wanted to call Donnie on your way home.

Your best friend’s words kept you from it.

Tuesday your dad had off from work and, though they took you, you ended up showing your parents around Prospect Park. Where they’d only heard it was nice, you had seen enough from social media to actually maneuver it. You picked a restaurant they hated and then a bakery they loved. You were nagged incessantly and then pestered.

Tell us about your new college friends!

You don’t sound like you have many, what happened?

Oh, whos’ that?

Tell me more!

Are they nice?

Go to any crazy parties? We won’t judge.

They did.

They judged everything.

You kept Donatello’s name out of your mouth, though he appeared with each question.

He kept you sane.

He had been there for you.

He made things better.

You texted him as you ran to a bathroom stall for a moment of peace.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Hard to go back after your taste of freedom?

It was such a him response.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Tomorrow, you’ll have us.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Don’t worry.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Until then, say the word and I can call you away with a lab emergency.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: I know the codes for several. Do not ask why.

It helped as you rejoined your parents.

One more day.

Wednesday morning and afternoon were tedious affairs with little to do outside of the dreaded laundry. You aired and disinfected your suitcase and ended up cleaning for the sake of it. It made your mom happy and you prepped ingredients for your parent’s dinner even though you wouldn’t be partaking. It would be another nicety in hopes that they wouldn’t say a word when you stayed out late.

It wasn’t like you had a curfew, but you knew the biting remark would be there.

You left just before your parents got home so you sent messages to both of them to cover your bases. Their sent confirmation was like a final school bell and you were running down stairs at an alarming pace. Donnie’s text window appeared next and you shot out a message about your imminent arrival. You felt a buzz in response and wound an oddly familiar path to the necessary sewer grate. One prepped for access to the turtle’s tunnel, you climbed down and only then brought up a map. Above was one thing as you knew your local streets, but the journey below was one you’d never had time to memorize. Donnie’s map was clear and as you switched from sewer to subway lines, you soon came to the brighter lights of the lair.

The Hamato were piled in the living room and you saw Donnie amongst the bale.

He smiled, but it was Mikey who wrapped around you.

Your name was shouted and it summoned the others who hadn’t been paying as much attention. You got friendly pats, several more squeezes from Mikey, one bear hug from April, and a litany of pelted words from the others. Leo’s Hollywood comment didn’t sting as much because he pulled it out in a reference to Son in Law. He did a pretty good Pauly Shore impression and your praise had him pulling out more impersonations. As the chides and jokes flew, you thought about how they hadn’t pelted you with a million and one questions about your college life. They cared little about class and only if you’d had time to catch any local movies or shows.

You nearly wept at not having to talk about only the studious side of your life and you got to share a movie you recently streamed with Donnie. The others hadn’t known either of you watched it and you both excitedly regaled them on reasons not to without spoiling anything. You laughed about a plot line of having been plucked from their environment and joked about red squirrels. Donnie responded in kind about grey and you both laughed until you realized you were the only ones.

“What’s that about?” April asked where she was folded over a couch beside Raph.

“O-oh, it’s-!” You choked on giggles and held onto Donnie’s arm since he was close.

“You see, there was this inane test question that kept coming up.” Donnie filled in for you.

“Non-native grey squirrels have basically put native red ones on the endangered list!” You spoke with too much levity for the topic.

“Now this is a known ecological issue, but the way the professor framed the question…?” Donnie shook his head with a smile.

“He made it out to be like a gang war! So-so Donnie made this joke because they always, freaking always run out of breakfast in the caf when I get out of my morning class about my territory being disrupted!” You giggled.

Donnie bumped you to chastise. “Wait, you’re leaving out your classmate who runs to beat you there, your grey squirrel!”

“Omigosh! I don’t even know her name!” You cracked up.

“You’ve yet to mention the actual campus grey squirrel!” Donnie pressed.

You laughed harder. “Omigosh, he hates me and anyone that goes near his door on South Hall!!”

You both hurled more examples that fit into your branching squirrel joke and you thought everyone was having a good time until Raph’s voice cut through. “Sounds like a good inside joke.”

You weren’t immediately sobered, but your giggles grew strange.

“Yeah, I’m not getting it, but hey that happens.” Leo shrugged. “Squirrels aren’t my first comedy punching bag.”

“They’re cute! What do you mean they kill each other!?” Mikey had a watery expression. “To extinction!? How could they!?”

April patted his back. “It’s a dog eat dog world.”

“Is that why we were the Mad Dogz?” Leo looked to Raph.

“No, but I’m going to say yes.” Raph shined back a snaggletoothed grin.

With that the others moved on.

Suddenly feeling painfully self-conscious, you shirked and felt that Donnie’s hand behind your back.

You looked up at him and he had a grin and whisper waiting for you. “These dum-dums don’t know good comedy.”

“You are the funny one.” You softened up and, in an instant, felt reassured.

He pressed lightly for you to join the room and you jumped back into the conversation which had moved onto pigeons. A hotly debated topic, you took sides and spouted facts you had learned in class. Memes were then shared and eventually you went to Hueso’s. The rowdiest table for what was a comical argument about whether they were his favorite customers, the skeleton yokai refused to answer and only spoke of cash spent and tabs to be paid. Leo chased the man into the kitchen to be his usual intrusive self and you stayed present in table conversation the best you could.

It was difficult when Donnie kept sending you reaction images based on said speech and you found it impossible not to reach right for your phone so each joke would land fresh. It eventually meant both of you were side by side texting on another and it was only when the food came did you jar out of it.

“Can’t leave your significant others for even a second?” Mikey jeered before he tapered off. “Though I kind of thought it was you that Donnie was texting… But that’d be weird right!? You’re literally sitting together, why text?” He laughed.

Others laughed.

You and Donnie didn’t.

It spurned April to steal Donnie’s phone.

Some kind of betrayal, Donnie nearly flipped the table to get it back, but the flash of screen April had seen was enough.

You two were outed and ruthlessly drilled.

This was supposed to be fun, you thought to yourself as you tried to field lobs. They weren’t supposed to be rude like your family and yet you were back to fending vultures off.

Yes, you spent hours talking.

No, you weren’t dating.

Yes, you texted.

No, it wasn’t because it was a secret conversation.

Yes, you were just friends.

No, you weren’t more.

It was only when Leo reappeared and saw the distress mounting on you and Donnie did he step up in his leader position and caught the table’s attention by the throat. He laid out a new topic in the form of recent battles and that conversation took the heat off. You sighed into the booth, feeling particularly drained and when Leo shoved in to have more seat, it bumped you right into Donnie.

Donnie made room, but his hand stayed on the seat, close to yours.

You tapped a questioning finger to his.

Your heart was heavy.

Were you wrong?

Was your friendship weird?

Donnie had gotten you through moving across the country.

Donnie had done so much.

You really, really liked him.

His finger curled around yours for reassurance.

You’d asked once hadn’t you?

Something about if you bothered him early on since you talked just about constantly.

Donnie had scoffed by saying the word itself and told you that he put forth as much effort as he cared to.

You’d be the first to know if he was displeased.

He’d been honest.

When you complained about a science he liked, he didn’t care how hard the class was, you got an earful.

One of the few times you’d tried to use him as an excuse not to study, he’d hung right up and temporarily blocked you so you’d be forced to.

Your hands moved and, with a rush of your pulse, you tucked your other fingers up and over his.

He held your hand with one and ate pizza with his other as if nothing strange had occurred.

You did the same and spoke more normality by responding to something Mikey said.

It was taken with its own retort and everything felt right.

“I’m stuffed!” April flopped back and her jacket slunk down lazily on her shoulders.

“Can’t… move…” Raph groaned.

“That’s what happens when you are here for four hours and thirty seven minutes ordering non-stop.” Hueso commented as he picked up several empty pizza trays.

“One for the road?” Leo burped.

“Depends…” Hueso cracked a brow and slid over the check.

Leo flicked his eyes down once and then over to his tablemates where everyone dodged the question.

“Maybe next time.” Leo spoke guilt and Hueso hummed knowingly as he departed. “Split time! Cough it up!”

Complaints were loud as all sorts of money was deposited on the table.

“I love and hate catching up!” Leo crooned once an appropriate amount was placed.

“We were literally here four days ago.” Raph didn’t have the energy to eye his brother.

“Bah!” Leo swung a lethargic arm and it flopped on the table.

“No more pizza for… four more days…” Mikey grunted.

“Heh, you guys’s diet sucks.” April chuckled and fell over into Mikey on purpose.

The youngest squeaked and dominoed into Raph who shouldered the weight without moving.

“We’ll see you again, what? Friday, right?” Leo craned his head toward you.

Leo was dismissing you.

It was late.

This had been the plan.

Two days.

Donnie squeezed your hand.

You had never let go.

“Well…” You tried to respond.

“You know!” Donnie cut through conversation as if he hadn’t heard how it was coming to a close. “Remember how we weren’t able to find Jupiter Jim and His Majesty Cromslor anywhere online?”

The table quieted and you looked to Donnie curiously. “Oh yeah… We missed it in our marathon.”

“I purchased a copy then, but it only came in a few days ago.”

“That took…” You flicked up a few fingers to count. “Months!?”

“Oversees. Probably a boot leg, but it does indeed work.” Donnie smiled at you.

You felt a flutter in your gut. “We should-”

“Watch it now?” His brows bobbed. “Well everyone?” Donnie looked out, carefree to his inebriated brethren. “Movie night?”

“I’m sleeping!” Raph announced. “Don’t wake me and we’re good.”

“But Don…!” Leo’s head fell onto where his arm was still on the table.

“I could watch.” Mikey’s shoulders bobbed beneath April.

“I’m out. Got work.” April yawned.

“Then it’s settled.” Donnie turned back to you. “Not that we needed permission.”

You chewed on a giggle. “Can’t wait.”

Everyone else dragged themselves back to the lair, but you and Donnie took up the rear as you discussed some lab work. Delving into the study you’d monitored over winter break and what came of it, you were soon sat around the projector where Splinter was asleep in his chair. Raph used the last of his energy carting his dad off to bed and Mikey settled into a bean bag with commands to turn his head towards the screen. Leo helped in that matter and set himself up with his phone in hand to hang out more than watch. You and April said your goodbyes and then Donnie joined you on the couch. Raph didn’t return until well past the first quarter of the movie, but didn’t seem to mind as he flopped down to watch a film presumably the family had seen many times before.

The room was filled with the quiet sounds of the movie until Donnie leaned into you. Your shoulders brushing, he whispered to you a fun fact about the movie that gave way to more. With your head turned against the cushion, you eventually stopped watching the film to instead stare at him. He was enthralling. His lips moved with specific enunciation that you knew came from his love of pizzazz. He topped it off with eloquence from IQ and his flair was infectious no matter how emotionless he tried to present himself.

You adored him.

The credits rolled and there was light after movie discussion where you all found Raph had fallen asleep as promised. Donnie regaled you in his theories on how this movie affected the larger Jupiter Jim universe while he threw a blanket over his older brother. Leo pitched in a few notes about his comic knowledge, but no matter how obsessed the Hamatos’ were in this film series, there was still a limit of how much conversation could be shared.

“Welp!” Leo announced, coming down from a stretch.

That was the second final call of the night.

You had already overstayed your welcome.

You pulled out your phone to text your parents.

Donnie touched your wrist. “Before I forget, I finished my latest project. That targeted hearing device.”

You slowed. “Oh yeah, were you able to work out that model on how it decides what to filter?”

“Yes, in fact, I had a breakthrough-!”

“You finished that two nights ago right? When you were pacing in that fit?” Leo interrupted.

Mikey perked up. “Oh yeah, you were so upset, but you wouldn’t say why! If it was just because you were doing your usual tech walk things, then why not tell us?”

Donnie had obvious guilt and raised his hands.

You stared.

Two nights ago was when you hadn’t been able to text him goodnight.

You were in motion and interjected yourself with force into the fray. “Show us!”

Leo and Mikey looked at you curiously.

You tried not to balk. “It was for you guys too! It will help you gather intel on missions!”

“I thought it was just for your goggles or business people who never take their Bluetooth out, even at dinner parties?” Leo quizzed Donnie.

“The applications are wide ranging! Why do you think I patented it?” Donnie held his head haughtily and headed toward his lab.

The line there went first Donnie and Leo paired where Donie was putting his all into convincing Leo of his inventions use and then you and Mikey who trailed behind in a conversation of your own.

You weren’t sure, but you thought the blue brother glanced at you twice.

Mikey regaled you on a video game he had recently beat and, by the time you entered the lab, Donnie was in full presentation mode. A space you had only been in virtually, Donnie walked everyone to where the buds were and tried them on Leo first since he was the naysayer. They proved to work nicely as you and Mikey played examples by moving around the lab to make noise for the technology to hone in on.

You remembered locations from your guided tour, but definition had been sparse over the phone. Now here and moving about, gadgets kept catching your eye. Donnie explained them with quips from his brothers about use or malfunction. You heard all manner of stories and saw a part of Donnie you had yet to see. Donnie was quick to hang up if his brothers tried to intervene, but he was no stranger to complaining about them. You felt like you knew them better than you did because of it, but seeing the brothers in action was something else entirely.

They carried through, soon fatiguing of reminiscing and giving space for Donnie to show off his more successful tech. He shined, putting his best foot forward in a way you assumed he prepared for investor meetings. He eventually let you examine his bo staff and demonstrated how it could be reformed within his ninpo. He was detailing how his schematics process had changed since acquiring his mystic powers when Leo suddenly yelled up to the ceiling.

“Nope! Beep, beep, beep! Hear that? That’s my brain at full capacity! No more! No more science for Leon! Honk-shoo! Bedtime alarm.” Leo threw his arms up and seemed ready to spin around to leave before he caught sight of you. “Great seeing you, by the way. We’ll be seeing you, but not again tonight! Later, losers!”

You all watched Leo walk out.

Mikey saw his own chance to pull away.

The youngest did nothing distinctly, but you could tell he was ready to head to bed himself.

You had been together for hours now and it was definitely the AM of the next day.

You needed to text your parents.

You needed to go home.

You’d see Donnie again.

You had one last time before you flew back across the country.

You got your phone in hand and messaged your parents to check in.

“Michael.” Donnie held his own anxiety.

That meant both remaining brothers were ready for you to go.

Having already proved to your parents you were alive, you moved to next pen a message about how you’d be home soon.

“Huh?” A bubble popped on Mikey’s attention.

“Have you checked the time?” Donnie moved away from you.

Looking up your screen found the time at 2:47am.

“Oh ho!” Mikey sang with scandalous purpose.

You paused and looked up to see him sporting a huge grin.

“I get what you’re putting down, brotha! It is the one and only reserved time for my most exclusive dish!” Mikey moved fluidly through a few poses.

“Yes.” Donnie looked pointedly at you. “You might have heard of it.”

You blinked a few times not realizing some kind of ploy was in motion. “Special time…?”

Sliding to the right, Mikey’s whole body dipped below his raised arms. “It is time for my unmatched, out of control, unparalleled 3am dump nachos!”

A memory slapped you across the hippocampus.

You did remember.

Mikey had sprung them on Donnie when he was helping you study for finals last year.

The Mikey of the present then snapped to attention in a business-like manner. “Proprietary reserved and guaranteed to eradicate night munchies.”

Your phone buzzed and beckoned with annoyed responses from your mom.

You’d thankfully never sent that message about heading back.

She knew you were doing alright, that was enough.

You closed your phone. “Who am I to say no to the clock!?”

“Nacho time!?” Mikey turned to confirm with the last party. “That was what you wanted, right?”

“Yes.” Donnie tried to stave off a certain amount of joy. “Nacho time.”

“Woo!” Mikey started to holler but caught himself off to whisper. “Quieter woo because people are sleeping!”

You all filed down to the kitchen where Mikey took point in commanding his own cooking show. Talking about all his past chip and cheese related mishaps, he walked through pantry staples and what wasn’t for good nachos. Donnie settled in by your side and eventually grabbed a few drinks. The pair of you mingled together, sharing little glances amongst Mikey’s display until the nachos were in the oven for a quick melt session.

“Oh man, this was a great idea.” Mikey looked at Donnie approvingly. “I can’t remember the last time we did 3am nachos.”

You did, but you kept quiet.

“Probably after April’s midnight launch at that movie theater.” There was an air to Donnie that said he was purposefully making something up.

“Eugh, was it one of those ones where they watch like six movies back to back?” Mikey made a face.

“Are those marathons bad?” You asked.

“They are when you can’t pause and do stuff like this.” Mikey gestured around the kitchen.

“Helps to be allowed an oven.” Donnie cocked a brow at you.

“It’s not my fault someone started a fire in the dorms a few years ago.” You shot a smarmy look back.

“Finesse.” Donnie’s fingers came up to floss the word.

“This again!” You rolled your eyes.

“The rules are in place to protect! As long as you don’t violate them obviously, then I don’t see the problem.”

“Your homemade oven thing was way sketchier!”

“You could make it out of all the materials you had on hand! It’s completely safe!”

“Just because one can, doesn’t mean one should!”

“Look! I can recreate it now! You never tried.” Donnie went for a junk drawing and came back with supplies. “The most you needed was wire, then a containment unit, easy enough to build…”

Donnie nearly pressed to your side as he cut and created a wire and then spliced it with a battery. Showing you how to then encase the coils, he asked for your help holding something in place. You did so and he eventually came around with electrical tape to bind his creation. He complained about how soldering should be allowed if hot glue guns were. You spoke against that point and your hands brushed. He scoffed at live flames and slipped his arm through yours in lieu of reaching for a piece of plastic that had rolled away. You pressed into him and told him that with that logic you could simply weld.

“Couldn’t you?” Donnie’s face was near yours.

“I’d need…” You reached up and his cheek tipped into your hand as you activated the release on his goggles as you’d seen him do on video.

His lenses came down and you were close enough to see through them to his eyes beneath.

“… something like this.”

“I see… Safety first…” Donnie murmured, leaning in.

“Mhm…” You mirrored him.

A timer dinged and you jolted apart.

“3am nachos!” Mikey came around with oven mitts as if oblivious. “After hearing both your arguments, I’m gonna go with no homebrewing ovens in the dorms. It looks like you’re building a bomb.” He set the tray down and the smell was undeniably delicious.

You might have enjoyed it more had your heart not been pounding out your ears.

“To the uneducated, perhaps!” Donnie grumbled and looked over the spread.

You moved to better reach and heard Mikey talk about the best constructed bite.

What were you doing?

You had almost kissed Donnie.

If that was what just happened.

Donnie.

You had a nacho in hand.

Donnie.

What you had to label as your newest best friend.

Donnie.

Not a replacement, but an embellishment.

Donnie.

Next to you, the man in question said something about guacamole.

He helped you through your semesters.

You still had 10 more after the current one.

Four total years.

That didn’t include masters which you aimed on getting.

On the other side of the states.

As far as possible in the continental US.

That was only the grand scale.

On a minor one, you’d be back there in only four days time.

You’d barely seen Donnie.

You’d also arguably spent more time with him in just seven months then you had lifetimes with some of the people you still happily called friends, but 90% of that time had been through an internet connection.

Donnie.

A chip entered your mouth and it tasted so good you wanted to weep.

It certainly wasn’t for any other reason.

Mikey’s cooking was that good.

Eating.

Eating was happening.

You tried to tune into what Donnie and Mikey were discussing.

Donnie had put his goggles back up on his head.

His eyes looked pretty as he talked to his brother.

They always seemed lazy in expression, but they caught so much.

They also took in nothing if he didn’t care to look.

He’d been looking at you.

Right through that red and blue glass.

The make-up of purple.

Mikey hummed an exhausted note. “Oh man… 5am already? Sun’s gonna be up soon…”

“That late?” Donnie asked absently.

At least your parents had gone to bed and wouldn’t hassle you.

They might because you were absolutely going to get home after they woke up for the day.

That was less than ideal.

You also had lunch plans.

What were you doing?

“I’m hitting the hay!” Mikey announced even though you were sure he’d said other things. “Hug for the road!”

Mikey hugged you and you were sure you hugged back.

“Finish those off or whatever. They don’t keep so toss ‘em! Night, D!”

“Night.” Donnie spoke.

Alone.

You were alone with Donnie.

You’d been avoiding this hadn’t you?

Both of you had.

“Still hungry?” Donnie spoke timidly.

“Sure.” You had barely had any.

You worked through building that perfect bite Mikey talked about and then went for some salsa Mikey had whipped up.

Donnie was right there with his own chip and your knuckles brushed.

You both froze and looked at each other.

You saw it all there.

The budding feelings.

The long distance.

The fear.

The longing.

“It’s too soon…?” Donnie broke away to look at the sheet pan. “Don’t you think?”

You did.

You know you did.

You were weepy as you nodded and ate more than necessary just because the taste helped abate the sadness.

Donnie offered to take you home in his own melancholy.

You’d barely experienced college.

You were so young.

In spite of knowing him so well, it wasn’t enough.

When he pulled over on the empty morning curb outside your apartment, sunlight was peering in on your exchange.

What would you do?

How would you say goodbye?

“Walk me to the door?” You asked.

“Of course.” He put the van into park and turned it off.

You walked side by side in silence up the stoop.

The moment you were both on the same level, you hugged him. Hard into his middle you squeezed him for all he was worth. Not to be outshined, you were similarly scooped. Donnie created a protective outer layer where his face buried down into the top of your head. You both siphoned as much of each other off as you could feeling like it would be the last.

Was that right?

It didn’t feel like it, but for right now it was hard to parse anything.

It was exciting to be close to him.

You hadn’t known when he offered to give you a ride that you’d tackle him right out of your airport gate.

You’d never hugged before that.

You’d never touched at all as far as you could remember.

All of this was sudden.

Too soon.

You rooted your face into Donnie’s plastron. “I’ll still see you Friday?”

“You’ll see me tomorrow if available.”

You blinked up wide right out of his chest.

“You’re on break. I want to make the most of it.”

This time you threw your arms around his neck and he hoisted you up into the hug. You laughed into it until he set you back down and your heads bumped together. Sting moving to cradle, you lingered against one another. You felt more then, how you were rushing. You were jumping to conclusions. You were deciding years down the line before being present in your own moment.

Too soon.

“Dinner.”

“It’s a date.”

You entered your apartment on a cloud nine bubble that even your parents couldn’t pop. It prevailed through your mother’s nagging and you finally catching blissful shut eye. You barely made your lunch appointment with your friend and were disheveled for it. They laughed at you and joked about a rough night. The unsuspecting victim who just happened to ask the wrong question at the right time, you unloaded on them. Not usually the type of friend for long talks, they took it in stride and came out like an MVP.

They gave you advice on how to proceed and shared how they themselves were doing long distance.

It wasn’t for everyone.

You were young.

You needed to prioritize you.

There was also a certain amount of trusting your gut.

All a tricky balance, you came away feeling optimistic and closer to your friend than before.

You also crashed as soon as you got home and had a screaming match with your mom when she returned from work to find you in bed. It was enhanced by you not telling her about your dinner plans, but it all felt like a certain amount of stride. It was par for the course with growing pains of your adulthood and you got yourself gussied up amongst it. Donnie came to get you and you felt whisked away where your dad sent you off in good humor.

You wished he fielded your mom, but you guessed you could only ask so much.

Your date was a romantic one. Dictated by closeness, you counted in touch. There were brushes to the hands that morphed to holds. He’d pressed your back to indicate he wanted to pull your chair out and would eventually pull you to his side when some drunk adults stormed by on the sidewalk. You snuggled close to him during a concession selection and later would rest your head on his shoulder during a movie. Afterwards when you lingered for a walk in twinkling night lights you spoke your feelings into reality and what to do.

You’d wait.

It was too soon.

There was so much more to see.

You didn’t feel sad about anything other than not being able to kiss him when he brought you home.

Those hugs were hard enough to break apart from.

Friday then came and went and this time you felt fully present amongst the Hamato. Sunita and Casey joined for a rowdy bunch and you felt strong enough to take over the entire city. You also were always placed by Donnie’s side whether it be by both your conscious choices or simply your draw to one another which earned some ire. Unlike the last hang out, you were validated and both breezily brushed it off with knowing smiles. That brought more confusion, but any and all were left guessing what your relationship was.

Your family and a huge friend group hangout took Saturday.

Then you packed with Donnie on a video call.

It was just like a week ago, but wholly new.

You wished him a somber goodnight and right before hanging up he asked to drop you off.

You would have to fend off your parents, but you decided you could oblige.

There was little complaint as the next morning your mom asked you point blank who the boy was. You admitted to them the events of the last seven months, mutation and all, which they took in various stages. What your dad heard mostly was your loneliness and how this guy had gone above and beyond to make you feel less so. That was enough for him and in a stern decision, he refused to be moved. It left your mom high and dry outside the marriage unit and she eventually sighed to dreamily say that was why she loved your father.

Comparisons were then made between them and your relationship with Donnie and you shut that down as quickly as you could.

Donnie was then there and in an impromptu parents meeting.

He was surprisingly adept at it and you had a feeling he was aware this would happen. You ended up drilling him on the way to the airport where he admitted he prepared for at least seven possible scenarios regarding him butting in on the airport drop off. He regaled you in them all until you were sick of his preparations and you were at the airport.

He walked you as far as he could.

You hugged.

It should have been scented with desperation, you thought.

Instead, it felt like a promise.

With the same clingy digging, he gave equal pressure to your waist as you gave his head. He clawed your back and you pulled at his mask tails. It caught puffs of laughter from both of you as you drank each other in. You knew his scent now, a specific one you wished to curl up in. You’d remember prolonging time together even when you talked to him on the phone, presumably as soon as you landed. You’d be exhausted and want to shower, but you’d make time. You liked to give it just as he’d do the same.

You parted.

With smiles that were plump with tears unshed, you waved to him and he lingered as long as he could. You thought he even might have continued past that and used his goggles for some x-ray business. In case he did, you metered your steps and kept looking back to send him more grins to log. He probably had a thousand already from the calls or even this week, but you’d give more. You boarded a plane and spring break ended.

Across the country you flew.

Back to school.

Back to work.

Through summer and an internship.

Opportunity and papers.

Talk of job and studies galore.

Late night calls and walls of text.

A flurry of messages.

Arguments.

Cold shoulders.

Apologies.

Fall Semester.

Winter break.

Spring Semester.

Spring break.

Rinse and repeat.

Donnie became your only airport ride. No matter when you came, everyone knew he was designated. It became common knowledge as much as anything else. As much as your friendship, everyone knew that was to be expected.

You grew.

Four years passed.

You found yourself yet again coming into LaGuardia on the cusp of spring. You had plans for furthering education on this side of the country. California had been nice, but Donnie had mentioned a study once that stuck with you. Eight in ten adults lived within 100 miles of where they grew up. It seemed like such a silly statistic four years ago when you’d made your college choice. You weren’t sure if you necessarily understood now, but there was a certain comfort in knowing you’d be in New York for the foreseeable future.

It helped that you grew up in such an amazing city.

What a town, Donnie would say reverent regardless of whether it was bad or good.

Shouldering your bag, you walked out to baggage claim. While the spot may have changed and the man was still growing like a weed, Donnie would still always appear to you between crowd waves. A sort of fate, he’d part pedestrians like the sea and he looked up from where he was tinkering with something on his gauntlet.

A smile spread on his face and he was in motion.

You had to keep up.

A hop and a skip and you collided in a spin. Twirling out for the sake of it, you both murmured affections until he rooted your face out from his shoulder. There he dipped you first for the sake of flair, but brought you up to properly execute what came next.

Your hands tucked behind his neck.

He locked his arms around your waist.

His gaze poured over you.

You tugged him lightly as he was taking his time.

He was hovering, no doubt committing all of this to memory.

You didn’t fault him; you had started dating a few weeks ago.

He’d blurted out the question saying he was unable to wait until spring break or even until you graduated with your undergrad.

You were long past first kiss territory, but this would be the first with the label.

“Donatello.”

“Not to be confused with the famous Italian sculptor.” He staunchly said the same thing he had since the moment he’d first introduced himself.

“Please.”

“Please what?” He jeered.

“Kiss me, dum-dum.” You pulled him as hard as he’d allow and he snuck in a laugh before your lips met.

You would always appreciate this time of year for its change.

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silverskye13 · 2 months ago

Text

Angst prompt courtesy of: @theunderscorwolph

[Part 1 of 2]

[Part 2 Found Here]

Helsknight waited... Probably too long to check in on Tanguish. In his defense, the last time he spoke to Tanguish, he was heading to Hermitcraft, and while Hermitcraft was far from safe, it was, in its own ways, safer than hels. There were fewer people, fewer hazards in general, and there was Tango. Tango wasn't a fighter. As far as Helsknight could tell, he was mostly just squirrelly, and a bit cowardly. But he was fiercely loyal. That went a long way. He had even, misguidedly, attempted to save Tanguish from Helsknight once. Helsknight, who recognized he was a big, scary, angry-looking, armed and armored knight, could respect that. And Tango and Tanguish were friends, and they got wrapped up in each other sometimes, and this was far from the first time Tanguish was gone all day talking to his other half about some project.

It was, however, the first time he'd been gone for two days in a row.

Helsknight didn't really consider himself to be a worrier. Tanguish was an adult. He could take care of himself. And even if he couldn't take care of himself, Helsknight could recognize that everyone had some level of pride. Butting in on someone else's business uninvited was a great way to be a nuisance at best, and a problem at worst. So, Tanguish didn't come back by the evening? If there was a problem, Helsknight would respectfully let him handle it. Tanguish knew to come get him for help. And while Helsknight would feel truly guilty if his dithering caused Tanguish to respawn, he could take some solace in knowing he would wreak holy vengeance on whoever did it.

[That was one of the perks of being a knight: when you pointed at someone and said something along the lines of "Through hels or high water I will smite thee" or some such dramatic nonsense, people tended to get out of your way and let you get to business.]

Day two of no Tanguish, and Helsknight went from being passively concerned, to something closer to open nervousness. He asked, as subtly as he could, around the Colosseum if anyone had seen him. No one had, though Martyn did make a joke about Tanguish finally getting wise and finding a real knight to squire to.

[EB really needed to stop getting between them when Martyn said things like that. The power of a bloody nose on shitty humor was astounding.]

Eventually, Helsknight had given up and decided the best thing to do was go to Hermitcraft and track the little pest down himself. He suited up for what he thought might be a mild amount of trouble -- it was always possible he would run into Wels when he was on Hermitcraft, and if he planned on searching for someone, he wanted to minimize the time he was fighting his double. He donned his chainmail, and the netherite gauntlets and grieves. He made sure the clasps on his boots were pulled tight. He cinched on his netherite sword, and made sure it pulled easily from the sheath.

He picked up his cloak last, and gave it a contemplative frown. In hels, the cloak was a distinctive and somewhat necessary piece of costuming. It was the visual shorthand he needed to inform everyone that he was a knight, and therefore probably knew his way around a sword [and wasn't worth mugging]. For those who knew knights, it told them what Order he was a part of. Useful. On Hermitcraft, however... Being able to tell at a glance that he was a red-themed knight in dark armor, who looked suspiciously like but not quite enough like one of the other server members...

While Helsknight weighed the pros and cons of stealth and subtly, two things he was famously very bad at, the shield hanging on his wall shuddered and kicked, and someone tumbled out of the reflection with a shriek. Helsknight sighed and rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling. He did a slow count to ten in his head, and tried not to be very, very annoyed he'd just spent twenty minutes putting on armor for no good gods-damned reason.

"Tanguish," Helsknight hummed, when he thought he could keep his voice relatively neutral, "for no reason in particular, I think we should make some ground rules about when you should check in with people--"

Helsknight turned, looked down, and anything else he was going to say vanished out of his head with such abruptness, it made his ears ring. Laying prone on the floor of Helsknight's cell, staring with wide, somewhat terrified eyes and the kind of grin that screamed about recently realized mistakes, was Tango. The Hermit blinked up at him. Helsknight blinked down at him. Somewhere down the hall, somebody laughed at something, which was their only indication that the whole world hadn't frozen with them when they made eye contact.

Helsknight could say, with honesty, he never expected to be put in a situation where a Hermit stumbled into hels, much less into his cell in the Colosseum, surrounded by all the biggest, scariest, most dangerous people in hels. At a complete loss on what to do, he fell back on what he thought was safest: namely, making sure no one got killed over it. Helsknight leaped over Tango -- who screeched ingloriously -- crossed to the door of his cell and slammed it shut. There was no lock -- he'd never needed one until now -- so he settled on turning his back to the door and bracing against it, content in the knowledge that, should someone come inside, he would be the first one to know.

It did not hearten him to see that Tango was still on his floor. He had apparently, when Helsknight stepped over him, curled up as small as he could, anticipating some kind of attack. He'd thrown his arms up over his face, and now peered at Helsknight through his fingers, humming tuneless, horrified syllables.

"Tangotek," Helsknight said, concentrating on keeping his voice very calm and very quiet, "you aren't welcome in my home."

"I didn't know I was going to end up here," Tango whispered back, his voice high and tense as a violin string.

"Go home."

Something flickered in Tango's eyes, something like determination. Helsknight hated that look.

"Uhm. N-no can do. Sorry."

"Can't." Helsknight said, barring his teeth at the Hermit. "Or won't."

Tango made a face at him, tight-lipped and tense. He propped himself up on his elbows. "Uhm. If. If I say won't, will you kill me?"

"Possibly."

"Then I can't. Definitely, definitely, physically can't." Tango looked around, scrambled to his feet, and dashed to Helsknight's bed. He, admirably, only winced a little when he set his spawn -- probably worried hels worked like the nether, and the bed would manage to explode somehow. With a bit more confidence this time, Tango stated again: "Can't."

"I can break that." Helsknight seethed quietly, and tried very hard not to grind his teeth. "It would piss me off. I like being able to sleep here. But I can break that, and send you back to Hermitcraft."

"But you don't want to do that," Tango said nervously. "Because-- uh-- you'd have to kill me, and Tanguish would be really, really upset about that."

"Tanguish isn't here. So either run home, or I will... escort you there." Helsknight put on his most wicked grin, and placed his hand on his sword meaningfully.

Tango staggered a step back away from Helsknight, somehow managing to go paler than he already was. The redstone freckles adorning his face sparked, and the flame of his hair took on a slightly green cast. The idiot Hermit was apparently made of very stern stuff, though, because he didn't flee for the nearest reflection. He took a few seconds to breathe. He had his own sword, a fact that Helsknight only noticed because his hand twitched towards the hilt uncertainly. Helsknight wasn't alarmed. Tango didn't move like someone who knew how to use a sword well, and he was fairly sure the Hermit's hands were shaking so much he would drop it if he tried to draw it.

Tango swallowed hard, darted a tongue across his lips, and asked with only a minimal tremor in his voice, "Uh, T-Tanguish isn't here? Like, not here here, or like... Not in hels, here?"

Helsknight narrowed his eyes. "Is he supposed to be?"

"He left my place yesterday, and said he would be back in a few hours," Tango explained quickly. "I thought-- like, you know, maybe he decided to wait until morning? But. He didn't come back. And I got worried. He. You know. He tells me if he can't make it. It's-- all it takes is a reflection to talk. You know? And I did look in my reflection, but I couldn't see anything, which normally means he's not by one. It was just dark."

Tango crossed his arms. It was a gesture that somehow made him look smaller.

"I thought-- I hoped-- you know. Hopping through the reflection. I could just check on him. Make sure he was okay. I think. I think maybe it just took me to his spawn point."

Tango thought that statement over, then flashed Helsknight an incredulous, almost horrified look, "Why is his spawn point your bed?"

"Tanguish was supposed to be with you," Helsknight frowned.

"You haven't seen him?"

"No." Helsknight rested his hand on his sword hilt, mostly just so he wouldn't fidget. "Could he have gone back to Hermitcraft and you just missed each other?"

"I checked," Tango said, shaking his head. "I have... X gave a few of us console access. I did a few scans... Is there. Anyone you know with that kind of access for hels?"

"Hels and Hermitcraft are different places." Helsknight wrinkled his nose. "Maybe Evil X?"

"Cool! We'll talk to him then!"

"Oh sure," Helsknight spat derisively, "I'll just go knock on the front door to Evil X's tower and ask politely for admin access, will I?"

Tango grimaced. "Will he not... Like that kind of thing?"

"Oh he'd just love it. One more thing to hold over my head." Helsknight snorted. "It wouldn't work anyway. I have a pact that says I can't directly oppose him. If he, for the gods know what reason, has Tanguish, and I knew--" Helsknight made a parrying motion with his hand. "It's better if I don't know. Keeps my hands from being tied."

"Huh," Tango leaned back against the wall, slightly more at ease. Helsknight wasn't sure if he liked the fact that the Hermit was getting comfortable. "I kind of figured you and X-- uh, Evil X, would be friends."

"Why in hels would we be friends?"

"Well, I'm friends with Wels. And. You know. X. I just kind of figured..."

Helsknight decided the best thing to do with this statement was ignore it.

"I will check the house," Helsknight said. "You go back to your server. When I find him, I'll tell you."

Tango shook his head vehemently. "No! Nuh-uh. This is my rescue mission."

"While I appreciate your tenacity," Helsknight bared his teeth at the Hermit, causing him to shrink back a step, "hels is for helsmets. You wouldn't last ten minutes here. And I'm not wasting time keeping you safe."

"You protect Tanguish just fine."

"Tanguish can outrun everything that chases, and out-clever anything else."

"And he came from me," Tango said, crossing his arms petulantly. "I'm plenty smart! And I can be speedy in a pinch!" He sniffed. "We'll just give your house a look-around, easy-peasy."

Helsknight made to argue, and then a thought occurred to him.

"This isn't my house."

Tango blinked. His eyes shifted around the small, relatively bare room. The single desk, shield mounted on the wall, and bed.

"Is it... An outpost or something? You put this up while you were exploring?"

"This is my Colosseum cell," Helsknight said. When Tango only stared at him blankly, "Surely Tanguish has told you about the Colosseum."

"I mean... He did."

"I have a room here. For when I don't want to walk across hels to sleep."

"There's a bunch of fighters out there."

"There is."

"Fighters who... Dislike... Hermits."

Helsknight snorted.

"W-well!!" Tango sputtered, noticeably more nervous, but doing his best to ignore it. "I'm! Still not leaving! So! We'll just have to be quick. And once we get outside--"

"We'll have to walk across hels. Hels, the city, is very big, and has a lot of people in it."

Tango put his face in his hands and let out a keening whine of dismay through his fingers. It was the kind of noise that suggested he didn't know how to growl in exasperation, so he howled instead. Helsknight, begrudgingly, admitted to himself he was being [a little] harsh. He decided, against his better judgement, to have a little mercy.

"You really want to find Tanguish."

"Yes! Yes I do!" Tango snapped, looking up at him beseechingly. "I mean, is it really that hard to believe you're not the only one who wants him to be safe?"

Helsknight's skepticism must've shown on his face, because Tango let out another of his exasperated, half-syllable noises and ran his hands back through his hair.

"Look, I promise I won't get in your way. And I'll go home the second we find him. I just... I'm worried."

Helsknight sighed and tried his best not to roll his eyes. He crossed the room to where he'd left his cloak, and motioned for Tango to join him. Hesitantly, nervously, Tango stood and waited as Helsknight flung the cloak over his shoulders. It would have been far too long, but he gathered some of the length to turn into a makeshift hood, bunching it awkwardly around Tango's shoulders. It took some folding and some pinning, but after a few minutes, Helsknight stepped back and nodded. It was passable anyway.

"Keep this on while we're in the Colosseum," Helsknight informed him, pulling the hood down low over Tango's face. "With any luck, people will assume you're Tanguish. Or at least that you're supposed to be with me."

"And, uh, if that doesn't work?" Tango asked, his voice pitching the barest bit higher in nervousness.

"We'll burn that bridge when we cross it," Helsknight snorted. He checked one last time to make sure his gear was all in place, and, squaring his shoulders, led the way out and into the cells.

Nobody noticed them leave the cells. Or, at the very least, nobody noticed who Tango was. A few people stopped Helsknight to try and talk, but when he made it clear he had places to be, they let him pass. Helsknight's patience was not a thing anyone wanted to shorten, even those few dangerous people who could probably weather the aftermath.

Soon enough they were walking down the streets of hels, Tango hovering so close to Helsknight's side they occasionally walked into each other. Helsknight wanted to be annoyed. He wanted to be even more annoyed by all of Tango's jabbering. The Hermit would make observations as they walked, pointing at buildings and asking questions that Helsknight rarely deigned to answer.

They weren't here to sight-see. They were here to find Tanguish. So when Tango asked him his twentieth question of the morning [You guys have a working water fountain? How do you have water in hels? Is it an update suppression thing, or does hels have different rules than a standard nether hub?] Helsknight scowled and started walking so quickly, Tango had to jog to keep up with his long strides. Panting, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping over cobblestones, he couldn't ask any more questions.

[Praise every god and saint in hels.]

Eventually they turned onto the street Helsknight's house was on, and immediately he knew something was wrong. Even from the end of the street, Helsknight could see the front door was open. A cold fist of dread clenched itself in his stomach, and Helsknight ran up the street, Tango protesting as he tried to keep pace.

The house had been ransacked. The door wasn't just open, it had been halfway knocked off its hinges, and the window at the front of the building had been smashed. He hadn't yet stepped inside, but from the red light streaming into the open doorway, Helsknight could see his little dining table and chairs had been knocked over. There was broken glass on the floor, and the pale gleam of metal -- Tanguish's dagger, dropped in a scuffle. There was no blood that Helsknight could see, but that was cold comfort.

"Oh... Shoot." Tango panted, standing beside him. "This is your house?"

Helsknight found himself swallowing past a growing lump in his throat. "Yes."

"Did you... Not go home yesterday?"

"No."

"Shoot." Tango said again, tugging on the edges of Helsknight's cloak nervously. "He left Hermitcraft in the afternoon. Would he-- would he have gone straight to the Colosseum if--"

"Probably."

"So. So this probably happened when he got here," Tango glanced up at Helsknight, gauging the knight's hesitation, and then picked his way cautiously to the door. "Does your house get broken into often?"

"If it did, there would be a lot fewer thieves in this city."

"I'll uh... Take that as a no." Tango stepped gingerly inside, the broken glass crunching beneath his boots. His tail, a liquid, fiery thing like his hair, swept around the floor, glinting off the glass shards like a field of sparks. He picked up Tanguish's knife and flipped it over in his hands, studying it before slipping it onto his belt. "No blood. Obvious signs of a struggle. I mean, he had to have been ambushed right? Otherwise he would've run for it. And they took him alive because, well, I mean, he would've just respawned right?"

The lump in Helsknight's throat got tighter. It was suddenly very hard to breathe.

"Right?" Tango prompted again.

"How much do you know about helsmets? How our respawns work?" Helsknight asked quietly.

"I know respawn is rough for you guys." Tango raised an eyebrow at him. "Or, I assume, I guess. Tanguish seems pretty scared of dying, anyway. And I know you take deaths in the Colosseum very seriously. A lot of warrior culture weirdness stuff."

Helsknight swallowed. The fear of speaking his thoughts out loud grabbed him by the throat and pinned him still. Adrenaline, cold and sourceless, sent ice through his veins. His fist clenched around the hilt of his sword, his instincts as a knight searching for a source for his alarm to fight and dispatch, even when his logical mind knew there was none.

[He didn't want to say it out loud.]

"Sometimes."

Helsknight cleared his throat uncomfortably. He didn't look at Tango. His eyes wandered around the broken glass at the Hermit's feet, watching the flame of his tail glint off the brittle, jagged edges.

"Sometimes."

He swallowed again. He adjusted the buckle on his gauntlet. It suddenly felt too loose around his wrist. He was too vulnerable to talk about this. He needed plate mail, or a helmet. Hels, he needed castle walls and a full garrison.

"Sometimes we... When the universe... We are. Uhm. We're different than--"

He could feel Tango's gaze heavy on him. His skin prickled with the weight of his stare and his own growing, frigid alarm. Something like panic, a rare and terrible beast, was crawling awake in Helsknight's stomach. It gnashed its teeth against his insides, and he felt the desire to laugh, or shout, or throw something, or maybe just throw up in general.

[Don't say it out loud.]

"Tango, sometimes we dont--"

"Well it's about gods-damned time!"

The amount of relief Helsknight felt at the sound of that hostile voice was profound and dissonant, and incredibly welcome. Mostly though, it was an excuse to focus all his pent up fear on something physical he could kill, and he praised every god and saint in hels as he turned to face the newcomers.

A group of four vaguely thug-like helsmets stood in the street less than twenty paces away from him. Helsknight's gaze swept across them, noting their mix-match of leather and gold armor. Two had swords -- gold and iron. One was twirling an axe in her hand in a flourish that was probably supposed to be threatening, but mostly just told Helsknight she'd been practicing axe-flourishes instead of axe-throws. The person who'd spoken, a rather weasely looking thug with a knife on his belt, grinned with glad maliciousness.

"We've been waiting for you to show up, tin can."

Helsknight didn't rise to the [insult?]. It wasn't worth his time. He cast a quick glance in Tango's direction, catching the fading flicker as the Hermit hid somewhere in the house. Good. Helsknight would prefer he not be under foot.

"Who are you?" Helsknight asked coolly, not really expecting a response. He flexed the fingers of his sword hand restlessly, itching to draw his blade. "And what have you done with Tanguish?"

"Come quietly and maybe we'll tell you," the ringleader said, motioning broadly with one hand for his thugs to fan out around him.

The three fighters moved to circle Helsknight, one stopping just in front of the ringleader, while the other two began stalking further up the street. Helsknight did the mental math of four against one, while he was surrounded, and decided he didn't like the odds.

Helsknight attacked before the first swordsman, the one with the golden sword, could pass him. He turned and drew his sword in the same motion, and the strength behind his cleaving overhead strike shattered the softer metal of their blade neatly. His second swing, lightning quick, took them in the throat. He pointed his bloodied sword at the second swordsman, who froze in shock, blade up in a shaking guard position, as they watched their ally fade into twitching death throws.

"Will you make me ask twice?" Helsknight hummed, his voice as level as the point of his sword.

The swordsman's eyes darted over his shoulder. Helsknight frowned, felt more than he heard the approach of something. He ducked and spun, sword arching over his head to catch a weapon strike that instinct told him was coming. There was the loud clash of metal on metal, and when Helsknight straightened, he found two more thugs had joined from... Somewhere. The roof perhaps. Helsknight backed up several steps, trying to keep the entire group in his sight line, and his back to his home. At least with his back to a wall, no one could get behind him. The four with weapons drawn advanced on him slowly, wary of his speed, and the efficiency of his strikes.

"Throw down your weapon, gladiator," the ringleader called to him. "If all you want is to see your friend again, we'll take you right to him." He flashed a wicked grin. "Though we might rough you up a little first."

At that, the axe-weilder leaped forward -- some uncanny sense of Helsknight's, honed for danger, demanded he duck as a whisper of noise hissed by his ear -- and she fell back shrieking, a bloody hole punched in her shoulder. It was only when the arrow cracked against a far wall that Helsknight realized she'd been shot at close range with a very high power bow. Tango leaned through the broken window, a terrified grin on his face, another arrow already knocked.

"Fight fair why don't ya!" He crowed and loosed his second shaft. This one grazed the thug closest to Helsknight, and he used the distraction to ram his sword through their chest.

What followed was a frenzy of breath and movement, seconds that ticked by as ages that he measured in the studied arc of his blade. One thug, then two, then three, scythed down like wheat in a field, crude skill and cruder weaponry breaking against his fortress of an onslaught. It was only when the last one fell that he realized the ringleader was making a run for it. Silent as a breath, Helsknight yanked his knife from his belt, aimed and threw. It hilted itself in the back of the ringleader's left knee, and he fell to the cobblestones howling.

"Holy-- nice shot!" Tango laughed, the high piping sound of the traumatized and terrified. "What are you--? Wait! Helsknight! Wait a tick--!"

Helsknight wasn't listening. He was angry, and the implication that Tanguish was captured somewhere goaded him on like a burning brand between his shoulder blades. There was a very mean little animal of panic in his chest again, warring with the adrenaline of the fight, and he thought, if he had the mind to, he might tear the ringleader in half with his bare hands.

[It would be easy. One hand on the back of the neck, one at the base of the spine. His boots were heavy, and if he planted a few strong kicks at the knuckles of a vertebrae he was pretty sure he could--]

It was a mountain of restraint that made him stoop instead to pick the ringleader up by the collar and slam him into the nearest wall. His head bounced against the bricks behind him and his breath whooshed out of his lungs, leaving him dazed and gasping while Helsknight leaned his full weight into him to pin him still. Not that he was going anywhere fast with a bad knee anyway.

"Talk," Helsknight growled, nearly nose to nose with the thug. "My friend. Where is he."

The thug whined, eyes screwed shut and teeth gritted in pain. "I'm not-- I'm not telling you anything. Y-you're not that scary."

For a very brief moment, Helsknight was so angry he actually did see red. He pulled his gauntleted fist back, fully intent on putting a dent between the thugs eyes -- when Tango leaped up and grabbed his forearm in both hands, dragging it down again.

"Hey! Hermitcraft to Punchy McMurderface!" Tango shouted frantically, clinging to Helsknight's arm for dear life. "Don't do that!"

"Why shouldn't I?" Helsknight snarled, grinding his teeth.

"Because if he's concussed unconscious he can't answer your questions, skippy!" Tango snapped fearfully, flinching back as though he expected Helsknight to punch him instead.

Helsknight, who had been expecting a much more stupid excuse [Something like, "Oh no Helsknight, don't punch the bandit that's mean and icky!" maybe] was momentarily caught off guard by the logical answer. He stood there, glaring down at Tango, panting as the red tinge the world had taken on faded back a bit.

"I'm st-still not answering your stupid questions," the thug sputtered bravely. "If you th-think I'm going to betray my guild--"

Helsknight hissed a breath out through his teeth. He reached for his dagger at his hip-- and remembered he'd already thrown it.

"Besides!" The thug gasped fearfully, realizing, probably, what Helsknight was looking for. "Y-you're a knight right? You've gotta be! No run-of-the-mill gladiator swings a sword like that! Knights don't torture people! It's against your religion or some shit."

Helsknight, whose anger was boiling up his throat again, considered the implications of renouncing his knighthood for one afternoon. Less than an afternoon. Surely it wouldn't take more than an hour to break a few bones. His Saint could only damn him to a lesser ring of hell. Maybe if he explained it was for something very important when he went to confession--

Tango spoke first. "Yeah but, knights are the law, too, aren't they?"

The thug briefly stopped breathing.

"I mean, they're deputized, technically." Tango continued, shoving his hands in his pockets. Helsknight suspected it was so no one could see them shaking. "At least, that's how knights in my world work. And I haven't seen any cops around. So. He's the law right now. And I don't know a lot about hels law, but I know you cut people's hands off around here for stealing things."

Tango looked up at Helsknight. "What do you think, Killer? I mean, technically they stole a person, right?"

Helsknight, despite his current fury and desperation, and despite his fearsome reputation, and despite, even, his ugly thoughts of a few moments ago, was not a torturer. He had inflicted some terrible wounds on people before, some to the point of what he would call cruelty, but never had he drawn a weapon with the explicit aim of causing pain and suffering. It was a line he had never really dared to cross, barring a few very harrowing fights with Wels, when he had flirted with the idea of that danger and eventually stayed his hand. There were some things a man could not do without carving out pieces of his soul in the process, where the gap between thought and action was a chasm, and to cross it was to never return to safety again.

Helsknight searched the darkest parts of himself for the will to remove someone's hand to get information. He searched the darkest parts of himself for the will to torture someone to find out where Tanguish was. A very sick, cold, empty feeling opened up in the pit of Helsknight's stomach. When he looked to the thug again, he had scrubbed himself of anger, and adrenaline, and, he hoped, fear. His expression must have been truly grim, because he watched the thug's face pale fearfully, his pupils pinpricks in too-wide eyes.

Helsknight threw the thug to the ground, forcing Tango to stumble back a few steps to get out of the way. His boot came down on the thug's shoulder, pinning him against the cobblestones. Panicked hands scrabbled at his ankle, nails sliding off the metal of his grieve. Helsknight was reminded of a rat trying desperately to climb out of a well, drowning.

"Hold your arm out, and hold it still," Helsknight said, his voice deathly calm. He leaned more weight into his heel, eliciting a long whine of pain from his captive. "I would hate to miss your wrist, and take your arm off at the elbow instead."

The thug was clearly panicked. Helsknight honestly couldn't blame him. He was very close to panicking himself. He kept shoving his feelings down into that cold empty place in his stomach, and replacing them with the mask he wore when he played the villain in the Colosseum. He quietly, forcefully, informed himself that this was a role he was playing, and like every role, he would play it very well. And then the performance would be over, and he could feel feelings about it then. After the screaming had stopped, and the blood had dried.

Tango had turned his back to him, his hands clasped over his ears. He did not run away. He did not leave. It was a show of solidarity Helsknight neither wanted nor expected, but found himself grateful for anyway.

"Last chance," Helsknight said. He lifted his sword, ready to plunge it down into the outstretched arm. He thought, in the detached way of the horrified, that if he could catch the tip of his sword between the bones of the wrist, that might be the fastest way to... To...

The thug closed his eyes and turned his face away.

Helsknight let out a long, slow breath. He drove the sword down. The thug screamed. The blade cracked against the cobblestones.

There was no blood. There was no dismemberment. The thug had pulled his arm away at the last moment, and clung to Helsknight's boot with both hands, shrieking. Helsknight's ears were buzzing. He couldn't hear what the thug was saying. His heart was racing, and his mind was so terribly, terribly empty. He felt... Numb. It was very hard to keep his sword in his hands.

A hand tapped gently on his arm. Helsknight blinked down at Tango, feeling vaguely like someone was waking him from a nightmare.

"Let me go!" The thug was yelling, scrabbling with renewed vigor against Helsknight's boot. "I told you what you wanted! Let me go!"

"Did you... Catch all that?" Helsknight asked, trying desperately to pluck coherent thoughts from the droning emptiness in his head.

"Sure thing."

[Ah... Good.]

Tango kicked his boot against the thug's side, more a nudge than anything. "Alright. We're going to let you go. Tell your guild boss or whatever that we'll be outside his place tomorrow at noon. Be ready to negotiate or -- uh -- be ready to get dead, I guess."

It was not a threat that would go down in the annuls of history as a great villain monologue, but the thug, shaking and terrified and in pain, took it deadly serious. Helsknight released him, and he hobbled away down the road as fast as he could on a bad leg. They watched him in silence until he disappeared down a side alley, leaving them in an empty street scattered in left over items from the other fallen thugs.

"Tomorrow?" Helsknight asked, his voice sounding very far away in his own ears.

"Today," Tango answered. "Telling them tomorrow makes them think they have time to prepare, and if they're preparing, they're not, you know, hurting Tanguish."

"Ah."

"You alright?" Tango squinted up at him. "You look like you're in shock."

"Mh." Helsknight dropped his gaze to the ground. His dagger had been left behind. He took a step forward... and sank to the ground.

"Woah! Hey, hey! Easy big guy--"

Helsknight found himself on his hands and knees, shaking, smothering under the weight of guilt and his own potential for horror. His head was buzzing again, a nauseating sound like the static of the void. His eyes found his dagger again, and he lunged for it. Moving on something between impulse and habit, driven by guilt and self-disgust, he ripped the blade across his wrist, spilling blood across the ground. With shaking hands he grabbed up his sword and set the tip against the cobblestones, his forehead pressed against the hilt, eyes screwed shut.

"Saint of Blood and Steel," Helsknight breathed, with all the desperation of a sinner crawling to an altar, "forgive me for what I would have done." He pressed his forehead so hard against the cold netherite of the hilt, it hurt. "Please, please, forgive me for what I would have done."

His nose stung with the smell of blood and metal and salt and sealing wax. His mouth tasted like bile, and he could feel every fluttering heartbeat in the cut on his wrist. The buzzing in his head, slowly, slowly, alongside the speed of his racing heart, ebbed. The animal panic curled up in his chest and grumbled as it started to ease itself to sleep. He realized someone was rubbing circles into his back, and whispering at him, and tugging at his hands.

Tango was not trying to be reassuring. At least, he wasn't trying to be reassuring so that Helsknight would be calm. He muttered things under his breath like, "Okay, easy now, no big deal, it's fine," and "Let it go. Nice and easy. Good knight. Scary knight..." The circles he rubbed into Helsknight's back were shaky and awkward, and very clearly a distraction for his other hand, which worked on uncurling Helsknight's fingers from the knife. Helsknight, his exhausted wits finally returning, had mercy on him and released it. Tango snatched up the knife like it were a snake he feared would bite someone. He grimaced at the blood on the blade, and, not knowing what else to do, wiped it off on Helsknight's cloak, before shoving the knife beside Tanguish's in his belt.

"So, just for establishing the rest of this afternoon," Tango said, when he realized Helsknight had come crawling out of his stupor. "Should I be worried about you hurting yourself randomly? Like, does this happen on a regular basis? Do you have triggers I should be making safe words for or--?"

"No." Helsknight said, trying not to feel ridiculous.

"Right. So that was just a one time thing? Because if it's not a one time thing, I'm not judging or anything. But, like, I might recommend seeing a hels therapist or something."

"No I--" Helsknight had no desire to explain that he had a Saint, and that Saint had tenets he'd sworn to, and he had been preparing to go smashing through them like a sledgehammer, mostly because she didn't want to admit it to himself either. He didn't want to admit that he had been on the verge of turning his back on everything that made him himself, because he was desperate and scared, and he didn't want to admit that if he wasn't a knight, he had no idea what he even was at all. Instead he fell back on what the thug had said, because it wasn't wholly true, but it also wasn't a lie. "Knight. Torture. Against my religion. Or. Whatever."

Helsknight leaned on his sword like it was his last hope of salvation.

"Very, very against my religion."

"R-right." Tango put on a complicated expression. The kind of expression one gives when they're realize they're walking on a minefield. "But. You know. You didn't actually torture anyone. Right? So. God can't be mad. So you don't have to slash your wrists for god, right?"

"I would have." Helsknight's eyes found a chipped cobblestone. "If he hadn't moved... I... Would have."

That feeling of frigid dread spidered it's way down his ribs again to pool in his stomach.

"Well. But. But. You didn't." Tango swallowed audibly. "You didn't. And that's what god cares about, right? And, even if god does care, you were following the letter of the law. And if god cares about that too. Uh. God. God can. Take it up? With me."

Helsknight barked a half-hearted laugh. "You going to defend my honor from god, Hermit?"

"Yes," Tango said uncomfortably. "Because I was the one who told you to do it. So. Double damn both of us, right?"

They looked at each other. They looked away from each other.

"Tanguish is going to kill us when he finds out what we did to find him," Helsknight said.

"I won't tell if you don't."

They looked at each other. Tango offered a hand to help Helsknight stand. When Helsknight took it, they grabbed each other's forearms, and it felt uncannily like a pact, or a promise.

"I won't tell if you don't," Helsknight murmured.

Helsknight sheathed his sword, and ran a hand through his hair, trying, with some success, to pull himself back together.

"We should... Get moving." Tango observed, looking up the street.

"I didn't hear a word he said."

"I've got it all up here buddy," Tango said, tapping the side of his head and offering a half-smile that didn't quite make it to his eyes. "So uh... You know anything about a Thief Guild?"

#the barking writer #rns ficlets #rns angst prompts #helsknight #tangotek #tanguish (mentioned)#tw blood #tw violence #part 1 #whatever it was getting long anywag #im not mad it posted youre mad

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uno-san · 3 months ago

Text

True to His Word (Stanley Pines x Reader)

Greetings! @princeasimdiya12 requested a special Aladdin Inspired short that was a delight to write! I didn't follow the prompt to the tee but I hope that you enjoy what I cooked up regardless. And to those in my inbox, have no fear! For YOUR 🫵 request might be next. Stay turned!

On dry and scorching days like this, traversing through a crowd of folk buying and selling wares was like a death sentence. Not only did the added body heat of the crowd make you dizzy but the added cramped space reminded you of the very prison you were trying to escape from. Your home. The palace to be more specific, but certainly where you grew up.

It was only from your place of privilege that you could call your position as princess a curse. Knowing that your life didn’t simply just hold fancy banquets that filled your belly or expensively imported fabrics from countries that most peasants couldn’t even conceive, it also held a role for you to play. A script that you shouldn’t dare stray from in fear of everything around you crumbling into nothing. The pressure of failing hundreds of years worth of ancestors.

You know. Easy responsibilities of a princess.

Perhaps that’s why as of late you’ve taken to finding your way out from behind the palace’s walls. Without protection of your family and city guard you could simply exist. Not practice another language, skills to attract a suitor, or bend under the will of your parents.

This was your chance, even for a few hours, to be free. With either being yourself or even discovering what kind of person you are without outside pressure. Even getting the chance to know the citizens that you will one day rule beside your partner was a gift that most royals often refuse.

Your attempts at rebellion had been successful only a few times which wholefully gave you a disadvantage when visiting a street market for the first time. Was it always this busy? Or was today a celebration of something far beneath your station that you weren’t even aware of it? Admittedly it did make you miss your palace servants. That pang of homesickness frustrated you after all that talk of freedom. Though perhaps old habits die hard.

“We have newly brought in dresses from our sister nation, for the low, low price of-”

“Fresh fruits and vegetables are available here! Straight from the ground and into your hands for the best prices. Fill your basket and get-”

“Offering trades for any one of my wares!”

Hearing one sales pitch after another was like hearing a cacophony of balls all at once. Maybe you were even being rung yourself as you struggled to walk without getting knocked around by someone far sturdier than you. The hustle and bustle of the market didn’t even allow you the chance to give apologies from the invasion of space.

Your heart raced with all the stimuli you had yet to grow accustomed to, pounding away at your chest as if you didn’t have enough things bumping into you already. It was nearly too much for a pampered princess. Almost. After all, if this is what the general populace have to deal with on a day to day basis, shouldn’t it be your duty to understand their plight on a more personable level?

Suddenly a hand shot through the crowd to grasp onto yours. The contact was enough to knock both the wind and confidence out of you before you were dragged out of the market and off your feet. Looking ahead to see who had grabbed you proved fruitless with everybody you were being brushed past. Even your cries of protest were outbid by the various merchants already calling for attention.

Have you been found out? Was it the guards? Or worse? Some criminal looking to make a big buck with the kidnapping of a princess. The thought made you pale. That, and the ever looming alleyway that you’ve just now realized you’re pulling into to get out of sight from the main streets of the open market. At least it wasn’t claustrophobic.

“Hey!” Your voice finally boomed in the stone alleyway, “I demand that you release me immediately or else I-”

You were shoved against the wall. Your shoulder blade nearly scratched against the coarse surface but a large hand covering your mouth stopped your wince of pain. Staring back into your wide eyes were a pair of brown ones that were dark and foreboding. The man had tanned skinned from days spent out in the sun while his long brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail that hung off of his shoulder. There was a roughness to the man that made you scared, yet…intrigued as the hand used to silence you lifted itself. In its stead the man raised a finger to his mouth for a ‘Shh’

Just outside where you two hid the sound of rushing footsteps dragged your attention to the source. In small groups were guards dressed in armor you could recognize from being from the palace. Your family’s personal colors. Not the city. Though they did not have their blades drawn they still traveled with an urgency.

“Gah, where did she go?” One voice growled while they skulked passed while seemingly not noticing or caring to check the alley you were hidden in, “Scatter and find her now.”

With a scattering of ‘Yes, sir’ the sound of their ever growing search became distant. You still held in your breath as your gaze cautiously slid back towards the stranger. His attention was still towards the entryway to the alley, leaving the positioning of the light streaming into cast harsh shadows across his face to highlight his sharp jawline. The sun nearly made his eyes glow gold.

In spite of the situation at hand you found yourself turned red.

Thankfully only an eternity passed before the man let out a sigh of relief and turned to address you, a wide grin nearly splitting his face in half while he allowed air to flow between your bodies again.

“That was a close one, eh?” He winked at you, “Saw them tailing ya for awhile now. Luckily your pal Stanley was here to help out or who knows what might have happened.” The man, now identified as Stanley, patted your shoulder before stepping out to the entrance to look both ways for any incoming trouble. “What’s got palace guards so hyped up about ya anyway? Must have stolen something good, or…”

His gaze swept back to your still bewildered form and hummed. Was he trying to judge your character at this moment? Or maybe even recognize you as the princess of this city and realize what a prize he’s just passed up.

The palm of your hands finally grew sweaty and you moved to wipe them off on the fabric of your cloak that hid a majority of your form, only allowing your finer curves to shine through. Had you really been so reckless? A part of you was beginning to understand your family’s paranoia a bit better.

“-princess?” “WHAT?”

Stanley gave you a look, “I said, ‘or pissed off the princess’ since you’re, well…y’know…attractive, or…” Now his own pause gave way for awkwardness. His eyes wandered to anywhere but your growing smile before he coughed, “Forget it. Anyways, I’ve got some stuff of my own to attend to so I gotta get-”

“Thank you,” You politely interrupted, raising a hand to tuck away a strand of hair when a ray of light hit the golden bracelet wrapped around your wrist. It had been a gift from your family last year for your birthday and since then you’ve hardly taken it off, even with your peasant disguise. Again he began to stare so you quickly added, “You didn’t have to go to the trouble of helping me out, but you did. I hope to one day pay you back.”

“Oh, pffft, don’t worry about it! Besides, the street trash has to stick together, don’t we? We’re a rare species, me and you.”

‘You and I’, you internally corrected.

He stepped forward with an arm outstretched to wrap around your shoulders, guiding you further into the alley without much resistance from you. Though he did not draw you in, Stan did take charge in what was soon becoming a casual stroll through the streets. Every now and then you’d catch him eyeing your surroundings as if more palace guards would jump from the shadows at any moment to drag you away once and for all.

“Listen…How about your pal sticks around for a bit longer? You might be a rat like me but I can tell you’re new to these streets. I’ll just keep an eye on ya. Make sure the heat has gotten off your back.” Again he winked.

You blushed in return and you caught his grin from the corner of your eye while you glanced away to gather yourself, “At any point should I be worried about you as my guardian?”

“Eh, was gonna rob ya at the end of the night so you’ll be fine ‘till then!” The uproarious laugh that followed afterward made you join in with your own, though not as powerful as Stanley’s.

The two of you conversed for a long while. At first it was mainly comprised of Stanley telling jokes that you’d have to either genuinely or politely laugh at, or he’d take his time telling a daring story of some petty theft he’s done in the past with an excitable gleam in his eye. Having no actual street experience of your own you did your best to contribute to the conversation with a few embellished stories of your own.

Though the mood remained light you did catch the occasional glance of Stanley actually trying to take care of you. Either with keeping an eye down the path you both walked, or drawing you into his side in a near embrace when somebody brushed past you to attend to their own business. You felt selfish in relishing in the attention. Especially when you had loathed the same sort from your family.Yet despite all of his talk, Stanley still felt so…safe.

Eventually a silence fell between the two of you that was only filled with the soft dragging of your shoes against the paved ground beneath you. With the sun beginning to fade away you could also just faintly hear the chirp of the bugs that came out at night. It was the exact sort of peace you were hoping to find outside of the palace.

Stanley broke the silence first, “So, ever plan on telling me why?”

“Hm?” You cocked your head.

“The guards,” He reminded you, “Why were the palace guards chasing ya?”

Choosing not to respond straight away you kept your gaze fixated on the ground, drawing in air from between your teeth. You’ve had all this time to come up with a lie. Had you been so preoccupied in his presence that basic safety wasn’t a priority? In the face of your silence Stanley fell out of step with you, instead standing with a stern look in his eye that made you want to shrink in on yourself.

“Don’t try and tell me ya stole something. Else they would have made a ruckus when they found ya, but they didn’t. They tailed instead.” The thoughtful expression he held felt almost unfitting on the man you hardly knew, “Not that I’m paranoid or anything, but-” “THERE SHE IS!” Before the shock could even hit your system Stanley was dragging you behind him again. This time you were able to scramble on your feet faster than before. The peaceful sounds of the night were replaced by the pounding of your heart in your ears. Glancing over your shoulder you could just make out the silhouettes of your pursuers who were hot on your tail.

Stanley’s attention remained ahead. He’d take you left from right without a moment's thought as to where the two of you were actually headed. That became abundantly clear when Stanley finally made a wrong turn. A dead end that branched off to another dead end filled with discarded crates from shipments long past. You heard him curse beneath his breath before trying to find an alternative route. It was too late.

Sensing that the jig was up you unceremoniously placed your foot on the curve of Stan’s ass, shoving with all your might to kick him back into the alley and plummeting into the boxes below. He was left swearing from the fall while you hurried to smooth out your outfit as if to suggest you hadn’t done anything wrong by evading the guards all day who, at this point, managed to catch up to you.

You stepped forward to the clearly out of breath party to stop any perceptive eyes from spotting Stanley. The leader of the pact, whom you unfortunately did recognize, was the first to step forward. Not with a sword in hand but a furrowed brow. “Princess,” The man emphasized as if to ensure Stanley heard, “You’ve been fleeing from us all day. Do you have any idea how worried your parents are?” His tone was polite despite the venom hiding behind it. He didn’t like playing babysitter for someone like you.

“I apologize for making you run around all day. I was being selfish for wanting some outside air. Your dedication in doing so however will be rewarded by my father,” A part of you truly did feel sorry, and prayed that your politeness would soothe over what was sure to be a fight the moment you stepped behind palace walls. When he didn’t reply right away you bit the inside of your cheek.

His eyes must have burned themselves into your soul before he faced away from you. Immediately he began to bark orders to his still recovering guards. Secure a path to the castle, inform his royal blaah, blah, blah blah, blaaaaah…

You were back to being a treasure to protect. Without voice or opinion. For having people’s lives revolve around you it felt like a karmic justice to have none of your own. Deciding to play further into your role you folded your hands into each other, offering no opinions or comments. It would have been infuriating if you weren’t given the opportunity to slide your gaze towards the branching off alleyway where you had kicked Stanley into.

Stanley’s presence nearly made you gasp aloud as you had expected him to have abandoned you long ago. While he still made an effort to hide from the sight of your guards you could barely make out his head poking out from between boxes. It appeared he had time to process the reveal of your status as a princess as his face had a clear look of ‘Really?’

There was an almost embarrassment to it as well, considering all that he had to say about you earlier. Yet in spite of the fear that you would retaliate against such behavior he still stayed. From the shadows he made an obscene gesture that made you giggle and cover your mouth, your bracelet clattering soundlessly against your-

Soundless?

Your eyes snapped to your bare wrist that sported a light tan line. Immediately you search the area around you in the hopes of a light reflecting back from its metallic band. A soft whistle dragged your attention back to Stanley who had swirling on his finger-

Your bracelet.

His grin was infectious as you soon copied it. The bracelet may have been a gift yet it wasn’t one to be robbed with abandon. You had many more like it back at home.

Stanley winked at you while taking a step back into the shadows, out of reach of both the guards and you with each passing second. It was just as you heard the murmurings of your group beginning to prepare for their trip back that you noticed Stanley mouthing to you before he was gone himself, “Told ya so.”

#gravity falls #my story #stanley pines x reader #reader insert #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls x reader #Gravity Falls au #gf stan #gf fanfiction #requests #gravity falls romance

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mywritingonlyfans · 1 year ago

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Your girl. // Alex Turner X Reader! (Smut)

prompt: alex feeling a little insecure about being right for her and her assuring him.

words: 3K.

warning: it's mainly riding him, bites, choking, cockwarming, and some more... well, it's my regular soft/sexual smut.

He wasn't angry with you, but he seemed distant, lost since he returned home. The cigarette dangled lazily between his fingers, and he was far from actually smoking it, the ashes accumulating excessively before falling into the air. His arrival and immediate move to the balcony made you wonder if he might be avoiding you, although it wasn't hard to tell he was uncomfortable within himself. "Al, babe," you held the dress, struggling to unzip it completely. "Could you help me with this?" A furrowed brow and a heavy sigh. He was irritated, yet he discarded the cigarette before coming over to you. You found it endearing how he kept the smoke away from you, always managing to disappear with it whenever you approached him, as if instinctively protecting you from it.

His cold fingers brushed your skin, tracing the zipper of the dress and slowly undoing it. He pulled the fabric gently, pressing his lips to the exposed area and kissing softly, immersing his nose in your scent, eliciting a smile from you. It was a familiar routine, like something done without conscious thought, yet something both of you enjoyed immensely – it was involuntary for him. "You know, I've started buying more zip-up dresses just to get those kisses when you need to take it off," you remarked with a playful grin.

…

You nestled between the sheets, free from the dress and feeling lighter. Alex wasn't any different; he was covered from the waist down and bare-chested, his arms up in the air. You curled up against him, seeking comfort as if you were two pieces of wood generating sparks, which elicited a laugh from him. He still felt like he was in another world, but being there with you was enough. You wanted to ask, wanted to know how to ease his mind, but you didn't want to pry and potentially make things worse. He lay there, looking tired, perhaps it was just his social battery that had drained, though you didn't quite believe that. When he closed his eyes, holding you tighter, you let it be; maybe he just craved silence after the hectic day you both had. You wrapped one leg over his waist, burying your face in his neck, letting his warm scent lull you to sleep. Thin sheets were the only barriers between you in the warm night, and being able to feel the texture of his skin and his arms around you made you feel relaxed and oddly secure. It was the purest sense of feeling at home.

…

Your eyes slowly opened, as if in pain. What was warm and comforting had turned cold and irritable; Alex wasn't there. You wrapped yourself in the sheet, huddling a bit before noticing the balcony light on. With lazy steps, you made your way there. He, too, had the sheet covering his lower body, a cigarette in his hand. The scene amused you, its dramatic flair matching his, and he noticed you there, not shivering from the cold but from the lack of clothing. He seemed even more exhausted, with swollen bags under his eyes and flushed cheeks from scratching, a sign you had learned to interpret as him overthinking. He had been fine in the morning; you knew he had become like this due to something at the party.

"May I?" You gestured towards his lap, and he chuckled so sweetly that you began to wonder if it was all in your head. Maybe it was just insomnia, right? He nodded. "It's okay if you want to be alone, babe," you persisted, but he assured you it wasn't necessary. Once again, it was just layers of sheets separating you both.

Before you could even rest your cheek against his chest and have him wrap you in a tight embrace once more, he took one last drag from his cigarette, even though it was barely lit, and stubbed it out, placing it aside before planting a kiss on your head. As your hips moved in a slow, tentative yet persistent rhythm and his strong hands held you close, he chuckled, making you laugh a bit too and apologize. He claimed it wasn't necessary, and as you looked at him, your excitement faded; you knew he was still bothered by something.

"Al, babe, what happened? Did I do something wrong?" Your eyes were concerned, so far calm, and Alex felt guilty about that. The problem wasn't with you. "Not you, princess." You nodded, and he pressed his forehead against yours after kissing your nose. "It was something from the party, wasn't it?" You tried again; he needed to talk about it, to stop you from feeling like it was your fault. Still, it was something so minor that he didn't feel like burdening you with it. "It's..." He paused thoughtfully, swallowing hard before continuing, "it's kind of a trivial thing."

You gazed at him, letting him know that your full attention was on him, and lightly kissed his nose. "It's clearly making you sad, so it's not something unimportant." Your fingers intertwined with the curls at the nape of his neck, and your body nestled closer to his. He relaxed in the not-so-fancy chair, surrendering to the comfort of having you in his lap. Even with the sheet, it was obvious you were naked, and his luck seemed endless that you felt so at ease with him. It was unsettling because he was aware that you loved him, yet he still occasionally spiraled into anxiety over the thought of losing you.

You displayed patience, exactly what he needed, a few more minutes under your soothing touch until his mind felt lighter. "I think it's just me, insecurities and all," his voice sounded weak and drawn-out, his hand covering his already flushed face.

You breathed in, forming a smile. Was it wrong to find that cute? "No way, Al." You lifted his chin to meet your eyes, and then noticed the welled-up tears, silent but somehow even more distressing. "Alex, babe, you should have told me," you whispered, not quite sure where to take this conversation. You held him in a tighter embrace as he struggled to fight back tears. "I think it's just my own insecurity, it has nothing to do with you. I don't want you to think that way." He shook his head, and you let your fingers trace his chest, following the path from his chest hair to the necklace around his neck.

"That's good, Alex. You can always talk to me; I wouldn't think any less of you for it, just as I don't now." You used the edge of the sheet to wipe his face. In return, he nuzzled your collarbone, gently biting it until he heard your relaxed sigh. It was intimate and timid, but it was exactly what both of you needed. He held onto your waist, his touch delicate, and reached for the upper parts of your breasts. Your hands lightly tugged at his hair, making him look at you so you could understand him better, until your mind was flooded with how vulnerable he seemed, how easily he could be hurt, and it made you feel a little guilty.

"I'm afraid of suddenly not having you, as if you'll slip through my fingers. I hate not having enough time for you, hate 'earing the sadness in your voice over the phone when you miss me and I can't do anything about it. You were so happy tonight with me, and it ‘urts to think I'll be without you for so many months soon. I know you deserve someone better, someone who fits you more, but I don't want that someone to not be me." He let out as if he was expelling all the toxic air from his lungs, his eyes even sadder than before. The fluidity of his words told you that this had repeated so many times in his mind that there was no space left for punctuation when he voiced it out.

You were speechless, your own eyes misting over. You didn't fully grasp it, but you knew you would try and make it better. He buried his face in your chest amid the sheet still covering you, his soft hair and light body surrendered to your embrace. "You've never failed me, not once. I don't want anything else... I don't want anyone but you." You felt helpless, unable to completely fix or improve the situation. Even your words trembled as they left your lips. You kissed his head, holding onto his arms and letting him stretch out comfortably on the bench. His body was relaxed, and he was a bit vulnerable, yet he still looked at you with affection. His head might be in a daze, but he trusted you. You felt more at ease, seeing that he felt comfortable after sharing this with you, even though it had burdened him. You chuckled softly, and he mirrored your laugh, soon melting as your lips brushed against his, warm and tender so far urgent.

You leaned against his shoulders, lifting your hips and then adjusting to him. The fabric was still a barrier, and your intention was simply to tease him; he gasped into your mouth. "I wish your mind would be kinder to you, Alex." Your voice caught in your throat, and he slowly opened his eyes as if he hadn't realized he had closed them. He seemed a bit sulky, his face and hair still disheveled from sleep. You were equally lazy. Your fingers danced along his jawline, your eyes meeting at the same level, then moving to his broad shoulders, your nails lightly grazing his pale, soft skin. The thought of the future marks you would leave, combined with your rubbing against him, heightened the butterflies in his stomach. He already felt breathless.

Alex was easy to handle, though you might not have noticed that this was true only with you. He was well aware. His pink lips parted as if to say something, but a soft moan cut him off as you pressed your hips between his and moved up and down. There was a mix of characteristic morning excitement and the view he had of you. You could feel him well, his entire length, as you excited yourself while lubricating him. Mornings often felt more needy, and both of you knew how to play into that, but this time it was your turn to take advantage.

His hands went to your waist, gripping it, understanding better than to disrupt your rhythm. He agreed that it was about what you wanted to do with him. Your palm followed his, the sheet slipping down a bit, granting him a better view, though not completely revealing everything. The tips of his fingers traced you slowly, appreciating every detail. He looked at you, his face flushed, and it made you smile. You kissed his shoulder and neck while making him harder and more aroused.

He held you even tighter, your chests touching, every inch of skin connected. You entwined your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling firmly and feeling yourself getting wetter as you saw his hair standing on end as you brushed your nose against him and dragged your teeth along his skin before biting him firmly and leaving with wet kisses. The low groan and his eager hips were so satisfying for you. "Trying to kill me?" he looked at you with clear desire in his eyes, his lips slightly swollen.

And you kissed them, his smile soft as he felt your touch. Your warm tongue met his until breath became scarce, and he was left with a series of your kisses and nose nuzzles. In the final one, you gently sucked his lower lip, biting it hard, and he whimpered, gripping your thigh in approval. You chuckled, a bit smug, and it indeed made him feel good, seeing you so confident. "Not really, more like showing you just how much I'm your girl." He nodded, even rosier now. At that point, you were perfectly aching, pulsing, with your head throbbing for him. Alex noticed how your knees were spread around him, focused on the movement centered at the same spot repeatedly.

"I know you are," he said, low and tender. You pressed your hand gently against his chest, pushing him back so that his head was supported. "Can you say it?" He ran his thumb over your lips, finding comfort in your sweet smile. You lifted your hips quickly, although to him it seemed in slow motion due to his neediness, and kissed him with the same intensity as before. You straddled him calmly, patiently, painfully, as his sighs were overtaken by you. He slid easily inside, and soon you felt comfortable, filled completely. "Tell me I'm your girl, Alex," you were breathless, that much was clear, and you paused, needing to adjust for a few – he was quite a thing to be taken. He chuckled, a guttural sound that vibrated through his chest, a bit too addictive considering you were so close to him. Your fingers traced his neck, almost begging for more, and he held you to stabilize you, not that you were going anywhere. He was so lost in you that it was difficult for him to form coherent sentences from the words that left your mouth.

"You're mine, babe." His raspy voice was a breath, his eyes still shining with desire. "You're my girl." He chuckled lazily, your eager hand tightening around his prominent veins, making him sound a bit breathless at the end. He was so hot and entirely yours. "I like that,"

"Do you, babe?" He gently guided his hand along your leg, his thumb reaching your clit and moving in slow circles. You moaned in relief, helping you endure him better. You let your forehead touch his, peppering his face with affectionate kisses. Gradually, you pressed tightly against him, adjusting your hips to favor your movement. His broad hands roamed around you, feeling your lower belly fill as your rhythm grew more forceful. Holding onto the sheet wrapped around you, he kept you close and firmly pressed against him. His body trembled, his eyes closed, clearly surrendering to the sensations, yet he couldn't take his eyes off you, your breasts following the rhythm, and how entangled you were with him.

He was losing control of his breathing, and you weren't faring much better. He kissed your collarbone, trailing the tip of his nose along your skin and stopping just below your breast. Repeating what you had done minutes ago, he bit into your flesh with desire, then planted heated kisses over the marked skin as your moans escaped quietly. Your nails dug into him, and by now, his hands were defined by the lines of the sheet he gripped so tightly. "Fuck, babe," he groaned, mouth slightly open, his head thrown back on the support. Tears growing in his eyes.

You leaned over him, resuming your attack on the sensitive skin of his neck, a territory you knew well. You allowed for friction against your clit with each movement of your hips, noticing him growing more restless. Your own body was involved in spasms, and you maintained the pace he wanted. You gave him what he needed, letting him have you fully, and brushed the messy hair from his face, granting you a privileged view of his features. His grip on you tightened, and as you grew more breathless, he corresponded appropriately to your stimuli. It didn't take long for your bodies to collapse against each other, your face buried in his neck, muffled moans escaping your trembling legs and weak knees. He held you even tighter, peppering your forehead with more kisses, lost in your breathless state nestled against his chest.

The sounds of your breathing mixed together, still leaving him a bit dizzy, but in a good way. He pulled the sheet over both of you, and as he unwrapped the mess, he saw that he had torn the fabric at some point. His cheeks flushed as he heard you laugh. He held you in his arms, your bodies connected, and brushed the hair from your face. Your voice was still dizzy as you said, "I must be really good at this," he chuckled softly. You were cradled in his arms, attached to his hips. He pushed the hair away from your face, and your throat was still dry. "You truly are," he affirmed, a loving gaze fixed on you.

A soul-warming silence enveloped you, comfortable and cozy. You could feel him growing solid hard within you once again. He didn't have much energy left, and you were almost falling asleep from exhaustion. This was evident in how gently you clung to each other, avoiding any sudden movements. Taking comfort in this, he stayed inside you, warm and somewhat snug. Your delicate hands encircled his waist, his arms covering you and keeping you pressed against him while the sheet did a good job of covering your bodies. You looked at him briefly, wrinkling your nose as you heard the hoarse groan escape him with your abrupt movement. Whispering, you said, "I hope this was enough to quiet your mind a bit. I don't like seeing you upset." You buried your face in his neck again, intoxicated by his scent. He observed you, realizing how foolish he was, yet there you were. "You're perfect, my dear," he said, feeling your laughter and how at peace you were wrapped around him. You were clearly a rational part of him, and he had no reason to deny that. Yes, you had quieted the noisy voices tormenting him.

"I'm your boy, all yours," he breathed into your ear, burying his nose in your hair and planting kisses on you until you fell asleep, so then the intimacy of the moment may allow him to drift into slumber while holding you.

...

taglist: @ohladymoon @indierockgirrl @bloo-wisteria @bellaturner @cosmoschaotic @nikisfwn @andrews-lovr @nela-cutie @ilovealexturnerlots

to be tagged you can just lmk or open my !google form! (you can decide in which ones you want to be tagged and also let you're request or thoughts there with me!)

...

here's my ko-fi

...

#alex turner x reader #alex turner #alex turner smut #arctic monkeys #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner fanfic #alex turner imagine

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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 1 year ago

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Part 2 - let the world know

“I wish I could let the world know that it’s okay to let the pain show and even though times seem bad, it always rains before the rainbow.” -A Little More by Machine Gun Kelly

Dp x DC: Regent!Jazz AU Vigilante!Jazz AU

Prompt Masterlist

In traditional Fenton luck, shit goes sideways when Jazz wasn’t looking.

The Joker breaks out of Arkham.

Now, Jazz is fully aware of the Clown’s evil-ness and Danny’s trauma with all things Circus thanks to Freakshow has her hackles raised when the spirits of Gotham start screeching in her ear mid-patrol that “Joker is free!”

Like hell the guy would stay that way.

Lady Gotham is anxiously watching the Regent stomp towards Arkham, where the Mad Clown had yet to fully leave the premises into Gotham proper.

Would Jazz kill the Clown?

Many of the Unquiet Dead of Gotham are the staunchest supporters of kill, kill, kill on a good day, but with the Clown?

They seethed, they writhed, they thirsted for their vengeance and with every life taken by the Joker, the number grew.

Jazz hated the thought of death, ironically.

It’s one thing to rule the Dead and Never-born, but to add to the Realms' population by her own hand?

(It wouldn't be the first time.)

Well, Jasmine Nightingale would have to check her morals at the door, because when Lady Gotham begins to hesitantly (then vivaciously) root for you to “please end him, dear” one has to reconsider a few things about themselves.

For instance, how would she avoid becoming the next Joker? It was a hushed confession of the Lady that made Jazz hesitate at the border between Gotham and Arkham-

A dead man's switch would trigger a Joker Venom bomb, infecting those nearby.

Would the gas affect a Liminal?

True, Jazz was very much a living being (she often woke up in a cold sweat with a hand at her neck, heart beating against her fingers), but she was Death-claimed.

Was this how Danny felt as a Halfa? Weighing the living half vs the dead to see which would win out in a fight?

Not for the first time, Jazz found herself thankful that she was only Liminal.

Heart in her throat, Jazz considered her options.

It would be easy to just run him through with her ecto-sword, a gift from her once-mentor Pandora, but she would likely have to fight her way through bats and birds to both get to and away from the Clown.

Jazz could also just ask for aid from Lady Gotham and/or the Unquiet Dead to enshroud her from vigilant eyes as she absconds with Joker to Crime Alley.

(Jazz was sure Red Hood wouldn’t mind if she dropped a dead clown at his feet. He seemed the type to appreciate a job well done.)

(If her heart raced slightly in response to that thought, no it didn’t.)

Despite all her reservations about murder, killing the clown felt like an honor for the Regent.

(Blood had long since been on her hands.)

The morning would bring chaos as the people learned of the Joker's fate, Batman's failure to return him to Arkham, and how someone finally had enough of the black furry's inaction to stop the clown.

Sometimes, inaction is just as bad as action.

(A Fenton who learned that well.)

Jazz, in full Regent armor, mounted the Joker's head at the mouth of her alleyway, the same one that she used as a checkpoint between her apartment and the Park Row graveyard. A grotesque trophy that would be used as a symbol of the Regent's authority to avenge, of her willingness to cross the line of morality.

The Unquiet Dead who owed their demise to the Joker could now pass on and Jazz could call it a night.

That was, until whatever tomorrow brought around to spite the younger Fentons.

Typical.

=============================

[This was more of a short fic rather than the prompt I first started with, but it just came to me. I want to explore some things with events leading up to Danny and Jazz in Gotham, but I'm not sure. I need help to describe Jazz's armor because I have a general idea, but I'm not sure about the details. Ideas?]

[Hopefully I'll be able to put more Regent!Jazz than Vigilante!Jazz, but I also really like Jazz as one. Bet you can't guess the name I use for her as a vigilante!]

#dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc au #dpxdc #jazz fenton #Regent!Jazz #Liminal!Jazz #Jazz kills Joker #Sprinkle of Anger Management in there somewhere.#Vigilante!Jazz

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fuckyeahmhawkefenris · 5 months ago

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It is unbearably quiet on tumblr lately, and what little talking there is, it's all about the next game. Yeah, we're no longer in 2012, I get it.

I'll just keep entertaining myself however I can.

I've always wanted to talk about one fic I secretly refer to as one of the hidden gems in the fenhawke archives. I have never ever seen anyone bring it up, and in all these years I've never dared to recommend it to anyone... Don't think you can even find it so easily? For good reason tbh...

Thing is, it's a fill for da kink community on livejournal. Anyone remember that place? The safe haven where anyone could anonimously submit the kinkiest most shameless things you could think of - offering prompts, filling them... Those were some desperate times when we were painfully low on content, and it was very hard to find something to read. Finding a story with characterization that suited your vision was near impossible!

I myself was desprate enough to brave through countless pages of imageries I could not stomach, skimming through them just to get the general idea until something captured my attention.

So I found this, and honestly, to this day to me it is one of the best examples of... idk, not just good characterization, but the overall feeling of the fenhawke relationship, why I can't let go of them after 12 years? It's all subjective, of course, but no fanfic ever resonated with me as deeply as this. Also back then mage Hawke was not very popular and most stories featured rogues... I used to be very sad and lonely!

Warning: it's extremely triggery. I wouldn't even recommend reading the first part at all, because it's too difficult and painful to get through. Hell, I couldn't read it! I was looking through the text very VERY briefly to get only the most basic and vague understanding of what was happening, and it was still hard! There is a lot of abuse, rape, slavery things...

To get the idea:

The Alone quest did not get resolved as planned. Danarius managed to win that battle, captured Fenris and returned to Tevinter, gravely injuring Hawke in the process (Fenris thought he was killed). To break the remains of his will, Danarius threatens to erase Fenris's memories of Hawke, and he succumbs and stops resisting altogether. I don't want to recall the details, but it was awful. Go straight to part 17 (it's a flashback) to read a very lovely take on fenhawke first night together. It's super sweet and gentle, though painfully sad in context. Still, beautiful. Well, it gets worse before it gets better! Somewhere in part 19 Fenris's friends come for him (they sailed all the way here on Isabela's new ship) and he's rescued. What follows is an exceptionally touching tender reunion with Hawke. Oh, and then, once all is settled comes the second part - All the King's men, which is much less controversial and fairly easy to read. Fenris copes with his experiences, and Hawke is always there for him. There are some truly fantastic moments as they slowly get close to each other again! Isabela is pretty great here, and Anders... sorta made me warm up to his character? And it's all fairly believable and close to how we see them in the game.

I'm saying all this and linking this fic on the off chance that someone with tastes similar to mine ever needs something like it. I know I am grateful it exists, and still hold it very dear to my heart. Definitely never regretted finding it!

#dragon age 2 #da2 #fenhawke #hawris #fenris #garrett hawke #male hawke x fenris #fenris x m!hawke #private ramblings #FicRec #FirstNight

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slashersgostabbystabstab · 1 year ago

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Object of Obsession

Ghostface x Reader Smut

Mmm...old fic from my old, deleted blog...felt like posting it cause why not. I remember if anybody remembers this fic.

Warnings? SMUT. And everything else you would expect in a DBD fic (I'm sorry it's midnight and I'm posting on my phone,I'll fix this whole post tomorrow)

I stg if this gets a decent amount of notes(just to show people wanna see more) I will post the other fics I had deleted (these involve the Blight, more Ghostface, and possible Wraith ones...)

Words: 6,021

"Hello?”

“Hello there.”

It had all started with a call, a mere and simple call.

“Who's this?”

“Soon you’ll discover.”

You assumed it was a telemarketer, or some kind of prank perhaps.

“I'm sorry, sir, but I think you have the wrong number.”

Now that you thought about, you had wished it was some stupid teenagers or some guy offering to buy some stupid prodcut.

“How are you so sure? Tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine.”

“My name? But why?”

Yet it wasn’t either of those.

Had it been one, you wouldn’t be limping through the lone yet crowded streets of this neighborhood.

“I want to know who I’m looking at.”

Putting aside the lack of doors and completely run down homes, one could have said the neighborhood...was normal looking.

Normal.

That was what you could now consider the life you no longer lived.

A life in a neighborhood not too different from the one you found yourself in.

Everything had been going well, even if life was shitty, it was no doubt better than this.

“You sick fuck!”

In your mouth you perceived the taste of iron, one you knew belonged to the blood smeared over your lips. Thinking about it, you weren’t even sure if the blood came from your lips that you bit to contain desperate whimpers of pain, or from the blood that was found nearly everywhere you limped through.

“I’ll gut you like a fish!”

That voice, you despised it with every ounce of remaining blood in your body. You weren’t even sure how much you had left after everything you had endured. All you knew was that your complexion had indeed turned into a paler one, your loss of blood evident as you unconsciously continued to bleed.

It had all started with a call, a mere and simple call.

Why did you have to pick up the damn phone?

Why did you pick it up all the following times that bastard called?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a scream that prompted you to skid to a stop, nearly crashing into one of the trees you were now surrounded by. With the hand that was not holding your impaled side, you clung onto the tree as your teeth now released your lip and you allowed yourself to pant after so much running.

Another scream was heard, a voice telling you to look to your right. Once you did, there he was.

In a panic, you shut your mouth as tightly as possible before rushing towards the direction you had just been coming from. You gulped and concealed whimpers that were created by the pain coursing through your ankle. As you fixed a generator earlier with one of the many people suffering the same, neither of you ever realized the looming presence that failed to strike your shoulder, instead hitting the generator that further damaged it.

You and the other person saw him, that bastard who was brought into this world of chaos with you. A man with a ghostly mask and dark clothing that helped him blend in with his surroundings. And he stared you down after you had fallen onto your bottom, already raising his blade above his head to strike upon you. But to your relief, the person behind stood in between the two of you, flashing the ghostly mask with a light so bright that made him loudly groan before your teammate helped you up and away.

The woman ran to the left as you ran to the right, never realizing that your footsteps were enough to have the ghostly figure chasing after you once more. However, before he had the chance of piercing your skin, you jumped through a window before falling to the harsh floor, injuring your ankle in the process. As you got up, you stared up at the window where you saw the figure peering down at you with a tilt of his head, deciding that now was not the time to continue your chase.

Obsession.

That was what the other survivors called you, as well as others like one who you learned went by the name Laurie Strode.

According to the others, there was more than one being with the goal of killing, and each one was somehow matched up with a being with the goal of survival.

You were one of the poor souls who had been matched up with a killer obsessed with their survivor.

Even more unfortunate was the link created with this obsession, brought to life by the very being that brought you and that bastard into this world.

“What do you want!?”

“What do you want…” you muttered through grit teeth, remembering that those words were the last you cried out after being chased in your own home. You remembered being cornered in your bedroom with the obsessed predator standing between you and your freedom.

“I want to see what your insides look like!”

Those words the last words he shouted, right before the lights in your bedroom turned extremely bright and blinded the two of you. You brought your arms up to shield your eyes, realizing that the lights had turned into swirls of red that flashed once and quite intensely, all the while a thick fog engulfed you and the figure.

Once the light show had ended, you opened your eyes, finding yourself alone and in a strange place.

A strange place you eventually learned was one of the realms conjured up by The Entity.

Your thoughts were once again interrupted, this time by the sound of a phone ringing.

You cursed under your breath and immediately pressed the ‘answer’ option, pressing the device against your ear as you heard the same ringing coming from one other location that had previously been three others, one for each survivor.

Two had now been sacrificed, and the third...well, the latest scream was more than enough information.

From the other line you could hear a dark chuckle, making your eyebrows furrow deeper and your teeth grit harder.

“I always feel like somebody’s watching me.~”

“Fuck you! Fuck you!”

“Aw, Dollface, no need for that kind of language.~”

You angrily ended the call before resuming your limping around, having to stop for a moment to wince in pain and grit your teeth even harder, causing a new pain to be created. Right then, you heard the phone in your pocket ring again and this time only yours, making you the last survivor again. But, it also made you the only one around with a phone, making you much easier to locate.

“You sick, sick fuck!” you hissed into the phone once you replied, frustrated how this so-called Entity made it so that you could never rid of the phone unless you were given a moment of peace or faced against another one of those bloodthirsty predators.

“Why so angry? All I want is to play a little game.”

“Well game’s over asshole!” you gripped onto the phone, scouting the area while being cautious, knowing how well this man hid. “I’m gonna find that damn hatch, and I’m living another day!”

“Oh, is that so?” the man chuckled once more. “That’s not what happened last time.~”

Death was something nearly inevitable in this realm, and it was something that you and the others were able to experience multiple times.

The last time you were faced with this man, you finally had a taste of sweet, sweet death, deciding that that would be the first and last time you would.

So you ended the call in a fit while scanning every inch of the overgrown grass you currently ran through, hurriedly searching for the hatch you hoped he hadn’t shut back. Without a key, the hatch was useless, especially because you still needed two more generators to power up the gates.

The phone rang again, further irking you before you answered.

“What do you fucking want!?”

“The question isn’t, what do I want.”the killer cooed at you, somehow being heard over the sound of your heart rapidly beating in your ears.“The question is, where am I?”

“Where, are you?” you jeered, holding your side with your fingers digging deep into your ripped shirt that had been slashed earlier.

“Heads up.~”

At the sound of that, a feeling overcame you...a dreading feeling that you were completely exposed.

You felt your eyes widen as you ever so slowly turned to look up, lips quivering upon the sigh of the ghost mask looking down at you from one of the roofs. You gasped as the killer waved at you with a tilt of his head, then rushing away from the home for you knew he had jumped down with ease and no pain.

Not that there was no need to hide your sounds, you panted loudly while sprinting down the empty street, never daring to look behind you for you knew the killer was just a few feet away.

Had it not been for your racing heart, you would have heard the heavy steps coming from the killer’s boots as he continued to chase. Yet you knew those running steps were heard, so you made your way towards a sidewalk that was placed between a tree and a fence.

Of course, the killer followed right through but was immediately thrown back when you cleverly pulled down one of the leftover pallets.

As the killer tried to recuperate, you took your chance and ran through a space between the homes before making a right and continuing until you found yourself limping into the front entrance of one of the far houses.

With the feeling of exposure gone, you silently made your way towards the living room where you found a pair of lockers. Carefully grabbing the handle of one, your bit your lip while attempting to open it as quietly as possible, something quite impossible.

And this you witnessed like several other times, ignoring it and placing your body in the space before shutting the door to then be immersed in a darkness. The only light came from the three slots on the door, giving you the slightest view of the outside world.

With a hand clasped over your mouth, you tried to steady your heart pace and your heavy breathing, ignoring the pain on your side and ankle that you found it impossible to stand on. Your eyes were shut tightly as you gave a slight wheeze, the stab wound on your side continuing to bleed out.

“I want to see what your insides look like!”

Those words replayed in your head, especially as you heard muffled breaths outside your locker, making you gulp and clench your free hand into a fist, ready to strike if needed.

You opened your eyes, feeling your hand shake but forcing it to stop once you saw the killer just outside the locker.

He stopped walking as he was a few feet away, deciding to crouch down with one of his hands holding his blade as his other dialed something into his personal phone, prompting a deep panic to course through your body as you readied yourself for whatever happened after your phone began ringing.

Yet...your phone never rang.

“Fuck!”

Through the slots you could see the man stand in pure frustration, kicking a leftover couch as you both realized that your phone had run out of juice. Thankfully, the Entity kept things considerably fair.

You saw as the killer angrily made his way out of the house, giving you a chance to sigh in relief before placing your hands on the locker’s doors, opening them in an instant before looking to your right and feeling the relief once more.

“The hatch!” you whispered to yourself, grinning ear to ear before making your way over to it.

Another day-

With the sound of a loud creak and then slam, you skid to a stop before your grin fell into a frown oh terror once you looked into the void-like eyes of the ghost mask, it’s owner just having shut the hatch before your eyes.

“No!” you barely cried out, turning before trying to make a run for it until you felt the back of your shirt be grabbed and pulled, making you fall backwards and onto the hard, wooden floor.

After wincing in reaction for the briefest of moments, you looked up and immediately reacted with your healthy leg, kicking upwards to where you saw the killer ready to strike his blade.

You heard an ‘oof’ from behind the mask, right before the killer dropped down after having been kicked in the abdomen. After rolling onto your stomach, you attempted to drag your body out of the house as the killer took his time, but you shrieked in pain once you felt a leather glove wrap around your injured ankle.

Soon you were pulled backwards by the ankle and then turned onto your back again before feeling a hand be placed on your chest, keeping you down as you attempted to move it away. Instead, you felt something heavier hold you down as your wrists were held above your head, realizing that your waist was straddled by the killer. You saw as he felt his hands above his head again, ready to plunge to blade deep into your heart several times.

Memento Mori.

You gasped at the memory of that phrase, shutting your eyes and covering your face with your arm as you expected an immediate kill rather than sacrifice.

However...it never came.

Hesitantly, you opened one of your eyes and to look up at the man who’s blade was no longer above his head but already down. Now with both of your eyes opened, you glanced up to where your pinned wrists were, seeing as the knife had been struck into one of the aging wooden planks.

“Gotcha there, didn’t I?” the killer spoke through his mask, chuckling at the sight of your helpless form. “Thought to myself, how fun would it be to stab you like the game before? But then I thought, no...maybe not this time.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, blinking up at the man who tilted his head like every single time.

“I’ve seen the way you stare.” he started once he retrieved his blade, still never releasing your wrists. “That glint in your eye when I grab another one of those pathetic idiots, slinging them over and onto a hook like nothing.”

“What?” you finally spoke up.

“Don’t play dumb Dollface.” he presented his blade, holding it horizontally before it teasingly made its way over to your neck to now graze over your skin, threatening to break it. “You think I know nothing, but I know everything about you.”

“Because you’ve been fucking stalk me even before we were brought here?” you attempted to move your arms, but the man’s hold grew stronger.

“You could say that.~” he purred while sliding the tip of his blade up to your chin, now gliding it against your jaw as he leaned down and close to your ear. “Kitten.~”

Fuck.

Fuck no.

“Oh, don’t tell me you liked that.~”

You squirmed beneath the killer’s grip, then choking out a gasp once you felt both of his hands place themselves on your body after he had repositioned himself.

With the knife being no more but instead an accessory on the ground, you found a gloved hand wrapped around your throat while the other ever so casually placed a finger on your thigh as he kneeled in between each one.

“What are you-” you croaked out as your hands wrapped themselves around the one on your throat, attempting to remove it as you felt its grip tighten.

“Drop the act.” he purred right into your ear, taking notice of how your breaths and heart rate quickened, prompting him to slide his lone finger up and down your thigh in a teasing manner. “You fucking love this shit."

“I-” you wheezed out, feeling as his finger on your thigh was now joined by the rest of them, squeezing your denim covered leg. “Fuck!”

“Look at that,” he pressed his mask against your ear as you shut your eyes, digging your nails into the hand that refused to let go of your neck. “Just a small squeeze…”

“Stop…” you tried to gulp, now feeling as his hand sank to the inside of your thigh, caressing it soft enough to make you squirm beneath him.

“Stop?"

“Y-yes!”

No.

Never.

“Stop!” you exclaimed as best as possible, especially as his hand now squeezed your thigh, basically massaging it before his hand traveled under it to hold it securely.

“Is that really what you want?” he lifted your leg into the air, pressing the cheek of his mask against it to rub himself. “You want me to stop and hook you?”

“Yes, I-I mean...no?” you stammered, finally breathing in peace when the man released your neck and instead placed his hand on your leg so that both of them gripped on.

“You’ve kept me waiting for this long, better make up your mind now before I do.”

“W-waiting?” you blinked at him a few time, then feeling something...somewhere.

Your eyes trailed down his body that kneeled in between your legs, then making your eyes widen once you noticed that beneath all the dark clothing was a bulge pulsating right in front of your crotch.

Wow.

Fuck.

“Whoa…” you started as you attempted to sit up, only to be pushed down in a rough manner. “Whoa, whoa-!”

Soon you felt as your leg was lowered and the killer’s hands were instead placed on your waist, dragging your body so that the bulge between his legs poked the opening you unintentionally provided.

“Crap…”you muttered out once a heat came upon your cheeks, this being due to the newfound heat in between your legs.

Before you could react any further, you felt as your body was hoisted up and onto the killer’s shoulder. There was no time to attempt and wiggle out of his grasp, for you now found yourself being thrown onto the nearby couch, purposely having been put in a slouching position as the man once again kneeled in front of you and between your legs.

“What are you…” panted words escaped your lips as the killer placed each hand on each of your thighs, spreading them further to lean in extremely close to the in between. “Hey..!”

“What?” he asked, never turning away from your area as you felt your cheeks burn hotter.

“A-At least take me out on a date first!” you semi-joked, grateful for the mask he still wore and the jeans covering you, for if neither of those hadn’t been in the way, you would have felt his hot breath over your… “Shit…”

“First you’re fighting and trying to kick my ass,” the man dragged his hands closer to the center, making you squirm a bit more. “But now, you’re here squirming under my grip, shy over the big bad killer being in between your legs.”

“Big? As if.” you scoffed as you attempted to regain your composure, instead giving a slight gasp when he dug the fingers of one hand into your leg, just as the other reached up to the hem of your pants.

“Take them off.”

“W-what?”

“Pants.” he posited in a deep voice, squeezing your thigh once more before his tone grew much more assertive. “Now.”

With a shaky nod, you reach down to unbutton your jeans, soon feeling as they were quickly being slid off your legs before being flung to the side like nothing.

“I-”

“You never know when to stop talking, hm?” the man shushed you as his hands grew close to your center once more, this time taking their time to taunt you. “You never know anything.”

This time, you kept quiet as you felt him press one of his thumbs on your briefs, rubbing a few circles that made you hiss through your now grit teeth.

“You’re a stupid one, but maybe not that stupid.”

You could tell this bastard was licking his lips right behind that mask, eyes watching your every move and getting off it.

“You don’t know just how long I’ve been watching you.” he continued as he rubbed the slight dent on his mask against you before sinking it further. “How long I’ve craved for you.”

“Craved?” you breathed out with fluttering eyelashes, not daring to look away from the man who snuck a finger under your panties, tugging on them to only tease and expose your opening.

“I thought that after all our previous encounters you would have figured it out by now.” he finally placed two fingers onto your entrance, making your arch back as he went under your folds to encircle your bud by dividing and reuniting his fingers various times. “I thought, maybe all this chasing and slashing was enough to tell you."

With your mind in a haze, you kept what could have been considered quiet, not being able to speak a comprehensive response, let alone word.

“But fuck you’re an oblivous one.” the killer stopped his motions, making you give the slightest whine as you looked down at him with half lidded, pleading eyes. “But now that I have you here...I sure as hell am gonna have my way with you.”

You bit your lip at the sound of his husky tone, hands desperately reaching to the couch as you now felt as your bud was roughly rubbed, but in such a satisfying manner that made you throw your head back.

“I know you’ll love every second of it.” he continued to tease your clit, now using his other hand to open your folds and breathe heavily against you.

Wait.

“Moments ago you were ready to run, but look at you now.” you heard his voice, realizing it was no longer muffled. “So wet already.~”

You managed to look down at the man between your legs, surprise filling you as you saw that his mask had been slid up and away from his face that was unfortunately not visible to you.

At his words you shut his eyes: he was right, he was so right.

Maybe...just maybe when you first saw the news with a picture of this man’s mask...just maybe…

“The Ghostface Killer” was what the news said, and just maybe you...

“No…” you shook your head to yourself, not realizing that the man had looked up at you with a quirked eyebrow.

“No what?"

“Huh?” you glanced down at him, barely being able to see a scruffy chin after he had lowered his head again. “N-nothing-!”

You immediately clasped a hand over your mouth and shut your eyes as you felt something wet against your entrance, a moan muffled right behind your palm.

“Fuck…” you whispered as your other hand attempted to grab whatever, just so you had a hold on something while the wet appendage continued to move against you.

Seeing as the killer no longer made any comments, you could guess that he was now using his tongue as his hands held you down and open for him.

You managed to grab onto the top of his head, the man not minding nor worried that you would see his face due to how you arched your back and even rolled your eyes to the back of your head as he continued to lick your bud.

“A-ah…” you whimpered, digging your nails into the man’s hood as his tongue moved in a circular manner before moving up and down, making you choke out a sound of pleasure. You especially moaned at the feeling of one of his fingers teasing below that, right before plunging itself into your hole that made you bite your lip intensely.

But what made you a complete writhing mess was his lips planting themselves on your clit, sucking on you, making gross, sloppy sounds that turned you on even more and made your toes curl inside your shoes. Now, both of your hands were gripping onto the killer’s hood as one of his held you down with how much you moved around.

“Fuck, fuck, f-fuck-!” you wailed out, the man’s hands on your hips as you felt a knot in your stomach, something that was ready to explode at any moment. “Oh fuck, oh...Ghostface!”

Now that was enough to make the killer reach down to his crotch, cupping his bulge as you said that name.

“Say it again.” he paused his treatment on you, allowing you a moment to recover and grasp a bunch of your own hair.

“G-ghostface…” you wheezed, then shrieking in delight once you felt him suck on your clit once more. “Ghostface! Oh, fuck, yes!”

Squeezing your eyes even tighter and your legs attempting to repeat the action, you felt oh so close to sweet, sweet release.

And that moment finally came, right after Ghostface went back to licking you as his fingers wiggled inside you, mimicking a ‘come hither’ motion before he detached his lips from you and instead rubber his thumb on your clit.

You weren’t sure what it was you said, but you swore and you screamed into the cold air as one of your legs kicked up. You didn’t know how long this moment lasted, but it was a blissful moment that had you seeing white whether you had opened your eyes or not.

Ever so slowly, you returned to your senses and could hear the faint sound of your juices being slurped by Ghostface as you felt the slight stubble of his chin brushing against your wet skin.

You heaved with a euphoric sigh as your eyes fluttered open, then glancing down at the killer who adjusted his mask enough to cover his face while making sure to keep a space open.

He lifted his two fingers that he had used on you, bringing them up and into his lips as you heard him sucking on the remainder of your juices.

“Look at you,” Ghostface cooed as he stood up, now fixing his mask so that it properly covered his face. “So worn out, and I haven’t even finished.~”

“What?” you lifted your head to look at him, seeing as one of his hands cupped his throbbing bulge once more. “M-more?”

“After all the chases and kicks and punches,” he reached down and under his top, and you could hear the sound of a belt unbuckling right before an unzipping noise followed. “I think I deserve a little more.”

Your eyes fell onto where his hands were, widening at the bulge that he now unfurled out of his pants to reveal an erect member pointing right at you.

One of his hands held onto it, slowly pumping the member as you noticed trickles of precum at the tip, threatening to spill onto your abdomen once he had stepped closer towards you.

“Such hungry eyes.” Ghostface breathed out a chuckle, not realizing that he himself had grown desperate, nor that he began rubbing his tip over your drenched briefs. “Such a good hole...just for me.”

Before you could say anything, you felt his free hand grab under your right leg before he lifted it and set it on his shoulder which opened your entrance even more. Once that was done, he kneeled on the edge of the couch while still supporting himself on the ground, leaning in until the forehead of his mask was pressed against yours.

He tucked his arm under your raised leg to keep it in place, placing his hand on the couch to hold himself as his other hand guided his member, using it to move your undergarment to the side before he rubbed himself at your entrance. As he breathed deeply, he felt you wrap your arms around his neck before he finally brought himself inside, making you arch right into his chest that provoked a deep growl in his throat.

“Fuck…”you heard him grunt behind the mask, especially as he sunk himself deeper inside you which made your toes curl once more. “Fucking, hell…”

After a moment, you brought your left arm to his back and eventually slid it down to his bottom, unconsciously pushing on it so that he could continue.

“What are you waiting for?” you sighed out, staring into the lifeless eyes of his mask before you felt him pull out and thrust into you rather harshly.

“Quiet.” he commanded, just as he felt your other hand claw at his hood, grabbing a bunch that nearly removed it. “No...don’t keep quiet...scream. Scream for me.”

“Scream…” you gulped before feeling Ghostface repeat the same action from before, this causing you to give exactly what he wanted.

“That’s better.” his voice sounded through your ears over the sound of your heart beating fast. “Say my name. Scream my name.”

“Ghostface,” you panted out as you felt him slowly pull out again, then thrusting back inside at the same teasing pace that made you give a whine. “Please...Ghostface, please.”

“Ghostface what?” he questioned as he continued his movements in a slow manner, creating a new knot in your stomach that was instead bothersome, ever so irking with this terrible, terrible taunting. “Say it Dollface, tell me what you want me to do.”

“Ghostface,” your bottom lip quivered as you dug your nails right into the killer’s back and neck now. “Please...f...fuck me.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” the killer purred against your neck, right before he quickened his movements, feeling your left heel dig into his back as well.

“Ghostface,” your voice grew louder. “Ghostface, oh fuck-!”

“Mmm, Ghostface. Oooh, Ghostface!” the killer mocked you, now pressing his right hand on your throat as he squeezed. “You fucking like that, huh? Tel me how you fucking love it.”

“Ghostface,” you started, removing both of your hands from his body to place them on his wrist. “Ghostface, I fucking l-love it.”

“Of course you do.” he laughed as he squeezed your throat. “You love it when Ghostface fucks your little hole; nobody knows what you want but me.”

You breathlessly nodded while tightening your grip on his wrist, especially as his thrusts became even faster and roughed.

“Fuck!” you choked out, feeling as Ghostface did not hold back in the slightest bit.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head once Ghostface finally removed his hand from your throat, instead bringing it down to your clit to rub it with a pace that matched his thrusting.

“Oh, fuck, oh my-” your hands once again returned to Ghostface’s back before one went to his head yet again, clawing at his hood which you accidentally lowered, the man not seeming to care. “Ghostface-!”

“I’m so fucking close.” he whispered into your ear, hand clawing into the couch that neither of you heard squeak and creak with every rough move. “But not yet...not yet.”

Before you yourself were able to come to another release, you gave a disappointed breath once you felt the man’s member missing. You turned down, giving somewhat of a pout as you saw him hovering just above your entrance.

“Ghostface…"

“Move.” the man told you after having lowered your leg and sat on the opposite end of the couch. “Now.”

You gave a shaky nod before getting on your knees, looking at his exposed member that dripped with a mix of your and his juices.

Ghostface spread his legs before patting his lap, you already knowing what he wanted.

So, you carefully climbed onto his lap, straddling him as you held yourself above his member, only the tip touching you.

His hands were placed on your hips and they forced you down onto his cock, making you gasp in surprise once you felt your skin smack against each other despite him still wearing his pants.

You stared down at the killer, once again pressing your forehead against his mask before you felt him move under you, prompting you to bite your lip to contain any other sounds.

He moved his hips in a way that made you plant your hands on the couch as he began to move you upwards, right before his hands brought you down again. Ghostface watched every expression you gave, a chuckle rumbling in his throat as he had you panting against his mask. His fingers dug into your hips, no doubt leaving bruises that would eventually match the ones he had caused on your thighs earlier.

Ghostface huffed as he now moved his pelvis upwards so that your body wasn’t the only one moving, his thrusts becoming sloppy yet remaining rough and quick.

“Say my name.” he aggressively grabbed your chin, squeezing you as he brought you to a more appropriate eye level. “Scream.”

“Ghostface!” you finally opened your lips, wrapping your arms around him again as his hugged your frame tight against his chest. “Ooooh, fuck! Faster!~”

You struggled to do anything, you didn’t even know if you were still calling out to him or gave all kinds of shrieks and moans. All you knew was that the knot from before had returned, and you were having a hard time both hiding and restraining it.

“Such a tight little-” Ghostface had to stop himself, hips continuously clashing against your bottom that was probably also bruised at this point. “Squeezing my cock, you fucking love this, don’t you?”

“Y-yes!” you managed to cry out, nails once again digging into what you could only assume were Ghostface’s shoulders or arms. Considering the pads he wore, it was probably the latter.

“I’m, I’m close!”

“You don’t finish until I fucking tell you to.” Ghostface hissed at you, one of his arms still holding you tight while his other hand snaked up and inserted two of his fingers into your mouth.

With his fingers in your mouth, you choked out all kinds of sounds, never realizing that a bit of drool dripped out and down your chin, making Ghostface lick his lips.

“Yeah...yeah…” he breathed out, marveling at such a sight he waited far too long to see.

He picked up the speed, grinning like a deviant once he felt himself twitch inside you.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop…!” you mewled after his fingers were pulled out of your mouth, once again on your chin to pull your gaze down after you had thrown your head back lost in ecstacy.

“I’m not fucking stopping.” he gave a few grunts, pulling you face even closer to press himself against you. “Oooh fuck. Should have waited to kill the others, just so they could hear your cute little moans.”

“Mmm, Ghostface!” you whimpered as you felt yourself even closer, the possessive hold on your chin and body making you clench around the killer’s cock that continued to pound inside you. “Ghostface, G-ghost-”

“Do it, fucking do it.” he teased right into your ear, practically licking and nibbling you as you finally released that tension inside you.

With a scream, you wrapped your arms around the man who let go of your chin to wrap both of his arms around you again.

His thrusts became faster before you felt a hot liquid be shot inside you, eventually dripping out and sliding down your thigh as you once again had that hazy feeling.

You held onto Ghostface like your life depended on it, feeling your bottom half tremble as his speed slowed down with every final thrust until eventually there was no more.

Ghostface bit his own lip, both to hide his slight pants and the cheeky grin that crept onto his features, now leaning his head to the side where you panted exhaustively into his ears. His hands slid down from your back and waist to your bottom, supporting you so that you wouldn’t fall backwards after such an experience.

The killer squeezed your body, chuckling once more into your ear as his muffled voice spoke.

“Our film’s finished, but you can hope for a sequel.~”

#dbd #dead by daylight #dbd ghostface #ghostface x reader #danny Johnson x reader #jed olsen x reader #it's shit byt whatever lol #smut #dbd smut

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nardo-headcanons · 5 months ago

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Hi, I never get tired of saying how creative and talented you are ♡♡♡ I wanted to know if you would write about the Senju Clan. I know it's strange, since I haven't seen you writing anything like that and usually I don't see anything like that. I like the way you write, you're the best

Sigh. I have let this sit in my inbox way too long. I am so sorry. Thank you so much for your kind words, nonnie. I have some thoughts about the Hyuga as well, let me know if you would be interested in hearing that.

Also please note that I will change around some canon things and all of this is fanfiction/headcanon.

tagging some people i think will like reading this post: @narutobrainrotstuff , @the-real-sasuke-uchiha , @spookyphilosophertaco , @danceofthexdragons

cw for mention of genetics, racism, religion, genocide and human experiments

The Senju Clan

People

Compared to the Uchiha clan, who are phenotypically rather monotonous, the Senju clan had a very diverse population with a wider range of skin tones, eye and hair colors. There were generally very little restrictions when it came to marrying into the clan and becoming a part of it. The only traits most of the Senju shared were that of fine, straight hair whilst the Uchiha had thick and dark hair with curls not being uncommon.

The reason the Senju died out were two sides of the same coin - with many of the clan's members birthing less and less children, and those who did marrying outside of the clan to the point where there are many Konoha ninjas nowadays who are part Senju but may not even know it.

Traits and Abilities

The Senju were rather unspecified, wanting to hone their skills in all three fighting styles, though I like to think that Taijutsu was one they particularly excelled in. Once one's movements were fast enough to be evaded by the base sharingan (Mangekyou sharingan was, depending on the source material, either extremely rare or nonexistent), the Senju had an easier time fighting the Uchiha. Many of them became weapons and taijutsu specialists, making me think that Tenten might be part Senju and her idolization of Tsunade was a way to connect with her roots and get to know a fellow Senju.

Another skill of the Senju was wood style, which was a skill many Senju before Hashirama posessed, but they rarely ever utilized it in battle. Said ability was caused by a point mutation in the exome, prompting Orochimaru to later carry out experiment's on embryonic DNA to artificially induce said point mutation, killing dozens of newborns in the process.

Religion

While the Uchiha followed the way of Shintōism, most of the Senju were buddhists, like their distant relatives, the Uzumaki. Initially, the people living in the country of fire were engaging in both buddhist and shintōist practices, but with the continued rise of war between the shintō-believing Uchiha and the buddhist Senju, these two religions were more or less divided.

The Senju and the Uzumaki

The establishment of Uzushiogakure in the whirlpool country was received with mixed feelings from its inhabitants. Most Uzumaki, although practiced in the arts of combat, preferred their pacifistic lifestyle of teaching their ways on paper, and not on the battlefield. This instability made it easier for the hidden mist village to send colonialist forces, killing most of the Uzumaki in fear of their congenital abilities. And with the Senju living more and more decentralized and being too occupied with themselves, Uzushiogakure lacked the manpower compared to Kiri's extermination force.

The Senju's Legacy

Nowadays, after Konoha was founded, the Senju started living more and more decentralized, therefore there wasn't such a thing as the "Senju compound". The language of the Senju was adapted as Konoha's official language, causing the other hidden villages to adapt it as well. (You can read more about my thoughts on language in the Shinobi world here.)

There were shrines for both buddhist and shintō believers in the village, but once Hashirama became the first hokage, more and more citizens adapted the Senju's religion of buddhism, with the shintō believers dwindling in numbers. Tobirama's segregation policy did not help in the slightest; although the Uchiha, who believed in family unity and support, lived closely together, being redlined and pushed into the same profession felt patronizing. But even though the Senju as a clan is no more, their legacy continues on, in good ways, and in bad.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto headcanons #naruto imagines #naruto scenarios #naruto fanfiction #naruto worldbuilding #hashirama senju #tsunade senju #tobirama senju #senju clan #uchiha #uchiha clan #uzumaki clan #uzushiogakure #konohagakure #konoha #shinobi system #tenten

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deadboyfriendd · 5 months ago

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Captain Seeks Mate

This is so stupid.

At four cents a word, Early Bird had taken Steve Harrington for all he was worth.

“Captain seeks mate– must be into pina coladas and getting caught in the rain. Mid-to-late 20s, witty and funny. Tall, dark, & handsome. Write to me and escape. Box D183.”

He couldn’t believe himself, yet, here it was, nestled between Handyman Wanted and 1978 Plymouth Volare. The product of his own desperation, printed in Times New Roman– staring him in the face for this Sunday’s very own Early Bird edition. He wondered where it had all gone wrong, wondered where he went from Steve Harrington, local heartthrob, to an ad in the personal column of the absolute rag sheet that The Early Bird had always been.

He wanted to blame Scoops Ahoy, those stupid little shorts and sailor hat. He wanted to blame Nancy Wheeler, who made him out to be an absolute idiot– No, he shook his head, you did that to yourself.

And then he thought about you, golden under the blistering sun of Phoenix, Arizona. Arizona State University wreaked havoc on this life and he left with a minor in possession, 36 C-average credits in Business Administration, and a heart kicked directly in the ass. He wanted to blame you, he wanted to blame his father for sending him there– his own alma mater, he wanted to blame W. P. Carey himself, but even Steve wasn’t stupid enough to try to push this on someone else.

Stupid, but not that stupid.

It had been three years, and Steve had found himself settling into the comforts of blissful, beautiful stagnation. His apartment was nice– far nicer than his current job would allow him, thanks, Robin.

It wasn’t like he frequented this place often. His home was adrift, on board The Lady May. It was an inherent truth that Steve belonged on a boat, preferably in the absence of a shirt– and this job had been the calling of a lifetime. Where Steve had struggled in the areas of statistics and business analytics, he learned the laws of the sea, learned the fishing regulations and how these animals functioned. Now, Steve got to live life as slow as the rolling waves of San Diego would take him. For that, he was thankful.

“You’re seriously advertising yourself in the paper now?” Robin asked him, her eyes peering over the top of the paper with both wonder and disgust, “Do I dare bring back the board?”

“What?” Steve asked her, turning around from his barstool.

“Captain seeks mate, Steven? This has you written all over it.”

“Why are you even reading the personal column?”

“Because I like to laugh at them.” She said to him with her brow raised. Her hand came down to gesture at those horrible, ambiguously worded advertisements, “But this? This is just sad.”

He reached over to her, snatching the paper from her hands. He unfolded his glasses, letting them sit low against his nose, now unabashed by his need for them– his unyielding desire to see outweighing the once debilitating vanity that overtook his ability to simply wear them. Robin never pointed this out, she was just glad to see him doing something for himself for once. But this? There was no way she was letting this die.

He read the paper with his brow furrowed, feigning confusion and nonchalance. Perhaps he could play this off, but there was nothing he was able to skirt past her.

“Nope. Not me.” He started, face stone cold. It was an immediate sellout, but Robin was feeling generous today. She would let him have this.

As he handed her the paper back, she gave him a sideways glance through a raised brow, wondering what had ever prompted him to be this desperate. Maybe he had finally gone crazy, all of those hours on the water finally turning him into a regular Castaway.

This is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen.

Well, second most. The first had been moving to San Diego to cut your teeth on some rag sheet with the promise of being the sole graphic designer. Something new and exciting. You could do new and exciting, you tried to convince yourself of this. You had graduated summa cum laude from one of the top ten design schools in the country– you just didn’t mention that that had been Arizona State and you had also gotten a minor in underage drinking. New and exciting was your game.

But this? This had been one of the most entertaining things you had ever seen, staring you right in the face. You couldn’t stop the laugh that tumbled from your lips, drawing looks from the editors perched at their beige desks like the world's most modern gargoyles. Had no one else seen this?

“Captain seeks mate– must be into pina coladas and getting caught in the rain. Mid-to-late 20s, witty and funny. Tall, dark, & handsome. Write to me and escape. Box D183.”

It had been three years since Steve had disappeared without a trace, your golden boy under the glowing sun of your homeland. He was the greatest gem the Midwest had to offer, a diamond in the rough. Gold-skinned and eager, with a laugh like sunshine and a touch like Midas, gone back home with little to no warning. Your heart had been shattered in the process, manifesting itself in a nose to the grindstone and an early release of a BS in graphic design. The sun stung too much in his absence. You’d needed something frigid.

Or maybe you’d been frigid enough.

You rolled your shoulders at your desk, the cramping in your neck signaling the end of the work day and your ticket out of here– your home the promised land of naproxen and that waning bottle of Don Julio 70, a gem you’d grown to love an appreciate with all of your newfound adult money.

You’d drained the last of your savings on a (most-likely overpriced) two bedroom a block away from the ragged coastlines of La Jolla Cove, where, every morning, you would watch the run rise along the tide pools where you’d tote your lukewarm mug of coconut cold brew, and watch the sun set over a rocky shore. It was a slow life, and you’d liked it that way.

But tonight, as you watched the boats bob back and forth in the orange glow of the marina, you couldn’t help but to feel a semblance of nagging withing you.

Captain Seeks Mate.

It was ridiculous. It was stupid. But maybe something ridiculous and stupid was what you needed. Something with no pressure, something that was fun. Something that wouldn’t shatter your heart into another million pieces when it would disappear.

So here you were, stupidly folded into a stupid, ridiculous pile at your stupid counter, drafting a big dumb letter on to a piece of paper:

Hello tall, dark, and handsome.

I am writing in response to your ad in the personal columns of The Early Bird from the Sunday, June 27th edition. Three years ago, my heart was broken by another tall, dark, and handsome type. I read that the ocean heals, so I traded my land legs for sea, and now I seek a captain to guide me to smoother waters.

I will spare the formalities. I am not into hiking or health food. I live a life of comfort and leisure. I eat when I am hungry and drink when I am thirsty. I like to live my life in good company between work days, and you seem like the company I’d like to keep.

I am particularly fond of getting caught in the rain– when it happens, that is. I hail from the desert southwest, and I thrive on sunshine and sand. I live quietly. I like to read and paint. I keep houseplants. I am nobody’s poet, but I’m into champagne.

I want to meet you. I want to cut through all of this red tape.

It is true, I like pina coladas, though I prefer a tequila sunrise at the best of times. The Pisces bar on Mission and El Camino De Playa conveniently has both. Meet me there at tomorrow, noon.

Sincerely,

Tequila Sunrise

Box 1751.

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #steve x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you #This is the worlds dumbest blurb #sorry I'm incomprehensible I'm just having fun #Spotify

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katakaluptastrophy · 9 months ago

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@greatandquestionablecontent noted that my discussion of Paul and St Paul didn't touch on the latter's awful views on women and sexuality.

And while I very much hope those aren't relevant for our new Lyctor-ish buddy Paul, they very much do haunt the narrative of The Locked Tomb.

We get one in-world bit of theology in Gideon the Ninth: the Sermon on Necromancers and Cavaliers, which talks about how the Houses understand the relationship between necromancer and cavalier and god. And it's pretty much St Paul's Letter to the Ephesians, ctrl + F'd for necromancy, with a few other infamous Pauline verses thrown in for good measure, especially from 1 Corinthians:

A necromancer who must leave her House and fight requires a swordswoman./For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife, and they shall be two in one flesh. - Ephesians 5:31

Our necromantic characteristics make us more like the Emperor...the necromancer and the cavalier are no different./[A man] is the image and glory of God; but the woman is the glory of the man. - 1 Cor 11:7

As [the Emperor] was once man, and became God...so were we dead and became alive./And as in Adam all die, so also in Christ all shall be made alive. - 1 Cor 15:22

Their love is the love that fears only for the other: the love of service on both sides. Some have tried to characterise this relationship as the cavalier’s obedience to the necromancer, but the necromancer must be in turn obedient to the needs of the cavalier without being asked or prompted: theirs is arguably the heavier burden./Loving one another with the charity of brotherhood, with honour preventing [anticipating] one another. - Romans 12:10 (I suspect this one is also meant to call to mind Ephesians 5's instructions for wives to submit to their husbands, while husbands are asked to love their wives like Christ loves the church - an instruction proponents of so-called Biblical gender roles will often describe in language similar to the Sermon as being the bigger ask.)

The love of the cavalier for the necromancer, and the necromancer for the cavalier...cannot be libidinous./But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any kind of impurity...because these are improper for God’s holy people. - Ephesians 5:3

So cavaliership very much reproduces the gendered asymmetries of power found in many traditional Pauline-flavoured interpretations of Christian marriage.

But when you look at some of the invective around a romantic or sexual necromancer/cavalier relationship, it's coded rather more as homophobia.

The Sermon on Necromancers and Cavaliers hedges around explicitly condemning necro/cav relationships as specifically against the will of god, but makes it clear that's very much a view held within the Houses:

"after a myriad of thought about the matter, marrying your cavalier remains taboo at best. There have been those who have argued eloquently that it is traitorous to the ideals of the Necrolord Prime."

While St Paul isn't the only source of egregiously homophobic Bible verses, he's responsible for a good chunk of them, and the idea of this specifically defying the designs of God is a recurring theme...

It's worth noting that not all of what's generally described as St Paul's writing likely actually is. And Ephesians, which features so strongly here, is one of those "pseudo-Pauline" letters - a sort of Pauline fanfiction written to fill in perceived gaps or deal with issues as they arose.

But it feels oddly appropriate that the Houses' theology of gender cavaliership, itself an imitation of St Paul, is so strongly inspired by an imitation of St Paul...

#the locked tomb #tlt meta #tlt paul

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peach-and-bugs · 2 years ago

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teen nat with “You look exhausted, you know that?” ?? (maybe pre-crash)

❤️Blame Game - Natalie Scatorccio (1996 pre-crash) x fem!Reader❤️

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

GIF by gayliennn

Summary: Natalie seeks refuge from the rain (and possibly comfort) after the death of her dad...

Warnings: canon themes: dead parents, spousal abuse, guns, general angst

Word Count: 2,539

A/N: Hello Lovelies! it's been a minute. I was so busy this past semester, but I'm now on summer break and I want to get back to work on my writing with requests for dialogue prompts with characters with Yellowjackets! here's my first dabble at writing for the fandom with pre-crash Natalie! I really hope you enjoy it, and as always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading ❤️

"Nat" Natalie Scatorccio Tag List:

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-❤️-

It had been raining for most of the afternoon by now, which you had found strange given the sun being so high when you'd left school. But the rain persisted into the night and you now found yourself sitting at your desk, scribbling away in your diary about your day and just general thought and feelings. You'd found that even when you had a mundane day, writing was still good. It helped keep up the habit for when you needed the outlet.

You started to run out of things to say and instead began to chew at the eraser of your pencil. One of your cassettes played quietly in your walkmen, but you could still hear the rain’s muffled tapping on the roof over the song. However, as you moved to start scribbling again, maybe adding doodles to your entry instead of more words, your attention was caught by a different tapping. It was sporadic and out of tune with the rain and it paused as though some other element controlled it.

Cautiously, you paused your song and listened. The tapping started again, clicking against the glass of your window. When there wa another pause you made your way over to it and opened it with caution. You paused again, licking your lips and biting your cheek. Why did this feel like the start of every slasher movie? Maybe youde watched those Halloween movies too many times.

“Hey, y/n! That you?” a familiar voice broke through the rain. Without any more hesitation, your head poked out of the open window, hands gripping the windowsill as the rain began to wet your hair.

“Nat?” you called in a whispery yell. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night?” thanks to your porch light you could see her fidgeting, hugging herself as she crumpled under the rain. She opened her mouth like she wanted to talk, but stopped herself.

“Can I come up?” she said instead. You hesitated again, head going back inside as you checked the time. It was nearly one in the morning by now. Your father would be furious if he found out, but it was Nat after all, it was pouring and you knew she had to have walked here. You huffed, your brows knit as you nodded, ducking your head back into the house ans shutting the window behind you before running downstairs as quietly as you could. You quietly unlocked your front door, pausing after it clicked open to listen for the sound of any unexpected movement. When nothing turned up you opened the door just as Natalie stepped onto your front porch.

“Be quiet and wipe your feet,” you insisted in a hushed voice, eyes already training on the staircase once more. You unconsciously took her hand tight and sprinted as quietly as you could up the stairs and ducked into your room, shutting it with the softest click you could mister. You shut your eyes, listening against the door for any sign you might have woken your parents, but once you felt it was all clear you relaxed with a sigh and turned back to look out on your room.

“You didn’t have to let me up if I was gonna get you in trouble,” Natalie mumbled. She’d begun to fidget where she stood, her thumb stroking over the strap of her soaked backpack. She didn’t move from where she stood and seemed to avoid making eye contact with you or anything in the room for that matter.

“It’s running outside and you’re soaked,” she shrugged, eyes turning down to her dripping shoes.

“I don't wanna put you out’s all,” your eyes transfixed on her in the quiet. She didn’t look at you for any of it but in the short time you stood awkwardly in front of you you could tell something was wrong. You knew Nat well. Well, maybe not this Natalie specifically, but you knew the Natalie from middle school who had sleepovers at your house nearly every Saturday and loved playing board games with your family and stopping for secret ice cream with you on the way home from school. That all had been some time ago, but you knew her, and even with all that she’d hanged that Natalie was still in her. You saw her right then.

“You doing ok? You seem off,” you inquired, slowly approaching her like she was a skittish dog. She looked up finally, slightly geared by the sudden proximity change, but she relaced as your reached for her fidgety hand. She let you take it, watching the tenderness in your motion. She hated being fragile.

“My dad’s gone,” she breathed, biting her lower lip. She’d been doing it for a while now. The skin of it was dry and chapped, red from repeated tearing away at the layering resulting in a swollen tenderness.

“I’m sorry. For good this time?” you weren't sure that was the right question to ask. Natalie’s dad always had a tendency to come and go, but given her demeanor either it was over or something else was going on. She sniffed heavily and let out a dry laugh as she jerked her eyes from you.

“Yeah, well seeing he put a bullet in his head I’d say it’s for good,” she pressed her lips together, sucking her teeth at the bitter sting, and exhaled hard through her nose. She swallowed hard before she shakily turned her eyes back to you. She tisked at the expression on your face and felt your hand tighten around hers. “Fuck, I'm sorry, I shouldn't unload on you like that I-”

“Hey, no it’s ok. It’s fine. I’m sorry,” you reached and grabbed hold of her other hand ans squeezed tight, forcing an awkward smile. “Do you want clothes to change into? You’re sopping wet,” she shook her head but you tisked.

“I'm getting you clothes ans you aren't arguing,” you turned from her and sauntered to your dresser, wrassling around in your drawers for anything comfortable for her to wear. Unbeknownst to you, Natalie was looking down at her hand, squeezing them into fists before she rubbed her sweaty palms against her jeans. She never liked clammy hands. You turned back to her eventually, shoving the pile of clothes in her hands. “Batheroom’s where it’s always been,” you pointed to the door that connected to your room.

“And feel free to dry off with a towel. Are you spending the night?” you rushed most of what you said, adrenaline pumping through you at an alarming rate as you tried to keep your cool. Nat eventually nodded awkwardly and made her way to the bathroom. The click of the door allowed you to let go of the hot breath that had been boiling in your stomach. Her dad was gone? Like, gone, gone. That was a good thing, wasn’t it? Well, maybe not given how upset she seemed. You never would have thought of Nat to be the type to mourn her father, cruel as that may sound. And why had she come to your house of all places? She hadn’t talked to you in years. She’d gotten so committed to the soccer team that she’d moved away from you but here she was now, dropping the bomb that her dad had killed himself.

“You alright?” Nat opening the door and talking to you had pulled you out of your head. She’d dried her hair off with a towel and was now draping it over the floor to sit her bookbag on top of it to dry. Her brown hair was tousled and knotted from what you assumed had been her vigorous rubbing to dry off. She’d folded her clothes in a pile that she added next to her bookbag and stood awkwardly barefoot in a pair of old shorts and a baggy tee shirt that used to be your dad’s.

“Yeah, I'm good,” you smiled, standing again. “You want some socks? The hardwood gets cold,” you said as you actively moved to grab a pair of fuzzy socks you'd gotten for Christmas from one of your drawers. You shoved them in her hands before she could decline. She held them for a moment, unmoving despite the gentle sway of her thumb over the cotton material before leaning over to put them on. As she did that you took her clothes and draped them over the footboard of your bed to air out.

“Are you staying over?” you asked again. You knew if she said no you'd still keep her here. You didn't want to worry about her out in the rain again.

“Only if that's alright,” you smiled with a single nod.

“Of course. It can be like before,” you chuckled, turning to adjust things on your bed. You might have caught the tiny flicker in Nat’s lips had you been looking. But you hadn’t and climbed into bed instead, shimmying under the covers to get comfortable. Nat slowly followed but lay on her back over the blankets, folding her hands on her chest. You only watched her for some time, not knowing what subject to broach, if any at all.

“You look exhausted, you know that?” you eventually murmured. Nat turned her head to you and let out a warm sigh. Her eyes seemed sunken, bags growing dark under them. You wondered how much she’d been sleeping.

“That kinda happens when-” she stopped herself abruptly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No…” her voice lulled to a whisper as she paused. That pause felt like it lasted hours till she sniffled. “Maybe a little,” she swallowed thickly. You scooted in closer to her, reaching your hand out t her ever so lightly to wordlessly offer it to you.

“It was my fault,” you shook your head.

“Nat. you’re seventeen,” she sniffled loudly and quickly dried her tears just as they fell from her eyes. She didn’t look at you, her eyes transfixed up at your ceiling in a feeble attempt to keep herself together.

“I grabbed the gun. He wouldn't have had it had I not,”

“It’s not your fault,”

“He was beating on my mom again because I had a boy in my room,” frustrated disdain filled her tone. “And it’s not like anything was happening! I mean, it was just Kevyn,” she scoffed at his name. Unbeknownst to Natalie, you knew the boy had the biggest crush on her known to man. How she didn’t realize it baffled you, but that wasn’t relevant at the moment.

“But I grabbed the gun. And I left the safety on and he took it from me and fucked around with it,”

“Natalie,” you kept your voice low. Her breathing had started to flair as she fully cried now. You took her hand, squeezing it tight. She didn’t look at you but unconsciously clenched both her fists around your fingers, and brought them to her chest, pressing it tight to her in some kind of attempt to ground yourself maybe. “Natalie, Who had the gun?” she managed to get out. She sniffled again. She would have called it pitiful, but you basked in the sound. Not in a weird way, but because she could trust you with this. She shook her head.

“Did you shoot him?” her breath shook as she took a deep inhale.

“He did,”

“So, who’s fault it that?” she turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut as she covered her mouth to suppress a sob. She let go of your hand and turned onto her side, leaving only her heaving shoulders in your view. You scooted out of bed, moving slowly behind her. She flinched as your fingertips made contact with her back, but you found she quickly relaxed under her touch as you began rubbing your hand in circles over the surface area.

“Nat, it was his fault,” you murmured. She continued to cry, curled into a ball on the edge of your bed. You weren't even sure if she was hearing any of what you said, but you didn’t feel you should prioritize that. You stayed that way with her for a while, till you maneuvered onto your side, laying behind her and wrapping your arm around her instead of continuing to massage your back. You felt her take your hand again, bringing your fingers close to her face. She seemed to bury her face in your hand in some feeble attempt at self-soothing.

Eventually, she turned around in your arms and found herself up close and personal with you. Thanks to the dim light she prayed you wouldn't see the red in her cheeks burning from the sudden proximity. She let go of your hand quite abruptly.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, eyes darting away. You only smiled and nodded, scanning her puffy, tear-streaked face. Without giving it much thought, you reached forward, brushing loose, now dry hair from her face. Your fingertips skimmed over her forehead with a delicateness Nat couldn't find herself familiar with.

“You look exhausted, you know that?” she shrugged but locked into your gaze.

“I’ve always been like that,” she forced a chuckle but found you frowning. You thumbed away leftover tears from her eyes ans found your hand lingering. When you noticed you made the motion of pulling away from her but she grabbed your hand, holding it where it was. She bit her bottom lip, her brows knitting with overwhelming consideration till she hissed out the words “fuck it” and leaned it.

She’d let go of your hand in exchange for the back of your neck, which fit quite comfortably against the flat of her palm. She’d shut her eyes hard and had kind of clumsily crashed into you, definitely taking you by surprise. For a second it was quite startling, but you didn’t panic or pull away. But once you got over the shock, you relaxed into her, smiling against her lips, which given their chapped nature left a metallic taste against your tongue.

You’re hand, which had been hovering above the covers after being abandoned slowly settled on Natalie’s hip as you shut your eyes and you felt her exhale through her nose as the air flittered against your cheek. Yet, just as fast as she’d moved in she was done, leaving your lips to chase after her. Her eyes were wide and blown when you opened yours again and she seemed to have a grimace on her face.

“Shit, was I that bad?” you sucked in a breath through your teeth. Her grimace subsided and she shook her head, now looking confused.

“No. I was more so waiting for you to be pissed with me,” she admitted. You smiled and laughed quietly.

“Why would I be mad?”

“I dunno, I kinda just did it and I didn’t ask-”

“Didn’t ask if I liked girls?”

“Do you?” she chuckled again, scooting closer to her.

I dunno, I might. I mean, I might at least like one girl,”

“That's so fucking corny,” Natalie finally smiled, letting go of a laugh in her throat.

“Yeah, but I got you to smile finally,” you squeezed her hip. “I consider that a win in my book,”

#fanfiction requests #fic request #◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ kay's at it again♡#yellowjackets requests #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfic #natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 8 months ago

Text

Memory Case ~Rita Calhoun xFem Smart!Wife!Reader

Summary— Some at-home fluff, Rita is working on her case that’s he’s taken home, while talking with her wife. Thoughts and conversations about memory ensue.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: all fluff, some science talk, talk of trauma, kissing, happy endings, etc.

Enjoy (;

It was the evening, and you and Rita had found a comfortable routine of doing your late night work at the dining table together, that way you two felt like you were still spending some time together as your jobs ate away your free time.

As you were nose deep into some paperwork, the sound of your name on the other woman’s tongue pulled your gaze up towards her.

“Mmmmm…?” You hum.

Rita paused for a moment, paper and pen in hand, tilting her head at something she was looking at. Your brows raised in curiosity.

“What’s up, babe?” You verbally asked.

“What’s the earliest memory you have…?” The brunette asked out of the blue, obviously having a train of thought behind her words, but having not yet revealed her thinking to you.

You thought about it for a moment, leaning back in your chair.

“Ummmmm… probably my childhood home… when I was around 2 to 3 years old… I remember the street I used to live on, and all the leaves falling because it was fall.” You replied.

Rita finally meets your gaze with a curious look on her face, her contemplation running deep.

“Huh. Interesting…” she commented, before scribbling something down on her notepad.

You put your things aside for a moment, your attention now grabbed.

“Why…?”

“I’ve been thinking about memory a lot recently…” she hummed, going back to her files.

You nodded along in intrigue.

“For a case?”

Rita took a prompt breath and nodded.

“What about it…?” You asked.

The woman then stopped what she was doing to collect her thoughts and meet your gaze once more.

“It’s correlation with how we process… how we remember certain things… how trauma can block certain memories…” She paused for a moment, “I’m thinking of using it as a defense…”

You nodded along, listening to the woman, as she went back to working.

“What do you know about memory?”

Rita snorted a little. Her snorts always made you melt.

“Not much. You?”

“A good deal.”

At your words, Rita put her things down and looked at you once more.

“Really?”

“Baby, I’m a therapist. Memory is like my domain.” You chuckled with a shrug.

Her hands then came forward above the table, nonchalantly prompting you to fill her in.

“Do tell.” She said, cocking her brow in wait.

You chuckled lightly and nodded, pursing your lips and thinking of where to begin, already picking up your hands in preparation to lecture the brunette on your expertise.

“Ok so firstly, Memory can be defined as the faculty by which the mind stores and remembers information. Now there are generally four different kinds of recognized memory— those are sensory memory, short-term memory, working memory, and long-term memory.” You explain, waving your hands about in the way you always did when you were teaching.

Rita tilted her head and listened with intent, nodding along to show her understanding. Her eyes softened at the sight of your hand gestures. She found them to be the cutest rhing.

“Alright, I follow.”

“Good. So according to Baddeley and Hitch, the following is how memory works. First comes the input, this is filtered through our sensory memory, which is where the processing starts. Then with attention, the information moves to the short-term memory, this is where information can be stored for a brief period of time. Another word for this hold is the Central Executive, this is the function of working memory that delegates what information should be retained and processed and what should be forgotten. From there, the information stays in the working memory, able to go to the Visuospatial Sketchpad or the Phonological Loop, the former is for visual and spatial processing, the latter for auditory processing. Still following?”

At this point, Rita had started taking notes, and she eagerly looked up and nodded, prompting you to continue.

“Good good. So from there from the working memory, the information can go to the episodic buffer and then to long-term memory. That’s the basics, it can get more complicated easily, but that’s what I would teach anyone interested in starting to understand memory.” You explain.

Rita lets out an intriguing hum, and you can see the cogs turning in her brain behind those dazzling eyes.

“So what if someone can’t remember what they did…?” The brunette asked.

“Well sometimes it’s because you forget the exact neural pathway, the recollection to the memory. Memory goes through the episodic buffer, something that helps you recall things in episodes or in correlation. When you trigger memories near the one you’ve forgotten, you can recall the one you don’t remember.”

“Hmmmmm I see.” Rita mused aloud, “And trauma?”

You pursed your lips and nodded with a sigh.

“That’s more complicated… Trauma has a way of building blocks or obstacles let’s say for you to access the traumatic memories. It’s best to uncover those with a professional.” You explain.

“And how do you know if it’s just forgotten or if it’s trauma…? I want to make a case for trauma but I don’t want it to bite me in the ass if he suddenly remembers it all.” Rita explained.

You nod again.

“I see. Well then I would say get him clinically evaluated. They should be able to tell you if it’s suppressed, repressed, or just forgotten.”

Rita smiled lightly at your words and nodded in agreement. She didn’t respond immediately, seemingly in thought.

“You okay, babe?” You asked, sitting up a little.

Rita nodded, standing up and making her way over to you. She came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your frame.

“I love you. You know that?” She purred.

You blushed and squirmed in your seat a little. Even to this day, your wife using the L word made you all giddy.

“I love you too, Rita” you hummed.

The woman then swiveled your head to the side and gently connected your lips together. You pressed into the light, caring kiss with a hum of contentment.

“How’d I get so lucky with a genius like you?” She chuckled into your lips.

You shrugged accompanied by a little giggle, as Rita drew you out of your seat and into her close embrace. She literally kissed your breath away. You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect partner.

~~~

Rita Calhoun Masterlist

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chloessleepystories · 1 year ago

Text

Chocolate Fog

Mind control, Drugged, Male/Female, Male Dominant

This was sparked by a patron's three-word prompt: Airplane. Eyes. Chocolate.

***

The setting sun was glaring through the little airplane window, so Amber, squinting, lowered the shade halfway. She was a pretty white girl in her early 20s, blonde, with a thin sweater stretched over generous breasts. Her seatmate had noticed them – noticed her beauty – but hadn't been creepy about it, and she appreciated that. They were only an hour into their 4-hour flight, and she didn't want to feel creeped out the whole time.

He seemed like a gentleman. Older man, with dusky skin and a trim white beard. Dr Suresh or something like that, he'd said, with just a hint of an accent, as he'd smiled and exchanged pleasantries before takeoff. She got a warm feeling from him – partly from his nice smile, partly from his rich, deep, soothing voice, but mostly from his eyes – they sparkled with warmth and mischief, and there seemed to be golden flecks in those kindly, chocolate-brown eyes.

The snacks and drinks trolley was coming down the aisle. She found she was really looking forward to that little packet of peanuts. She pulled down the little tray, moving her paperback to the empty seat beside her. How fun air travel was! And how cool that the flight wasn't fully booked, so she had room to spread out. Dr Suresh had spread out too – he'd laid a small case on the seat between them when he first sat down. So that was nice – a shared space, but also a buffer.

She ordered her peanuts and a Diet Coke from the nice stewardess.

"There you go. And for you, sir?"

"A scotch and soda, please. Neat."

"That's all?"

"That is all. Thank you. Oh – a blanket, perhaps, when you have the chance."

Amber leaned over, once the stewardess had moved on. "No peanuts? I think the peanuts are my favorite part. For some reason, peanuts on a plane just taste better than peanuts anywhere else!"

He chuckled in his throat, as she giggled. "This is true. Perhaps someone should do a study as to why. Me, I do not need them, for I bring my own snacks." He patted the small sample case between them. "The finest chocolate bars no one has heard of – yet. New, from my company."

"Wait – you make chocolate?? That's awesome! What are you, Willy Wonka?" He laughed again at her little joke. She liked his laugh. "Wait a second, I thought you said earlier you were a scientist?"

"This is indeed true. I am a scientist," he said, and his eyes twinkled. "There is a lot of science that goes into making good candy. Did you know this?"

He was already opening the case, so she decided he didn't mind talking about it. "So what's special about it?"

The bars were packaged more like an extra thick Hershey bar than a Snickers or 3 Musketeers – a dark-brown sleeve around a foil wrapper. The sleeve said "Chocolate Fog."

"Our chocolate is made from a very special bean just recently discovered deep in the Amazon rainforest," he said in his rich, melodic voice. "Its flavor is unlike any other kind of chocolate previously tasted outside of Peru. In our labs, it goes through a special process designed to enhance its unique properties, until we arrive at what I believe is the best chocolate bar ever created."

He peeled open one end of one bar to show it was segmented. He broke off a chunk and held it out. "You will have a taste, and you will agree, yes?"

Well, how could she refuse free chocolate? She popped the thick square in her mouth, and her eyes lit up at the explosion of taste on her tongue. "Mmmm! It's so rich, and ... nutty? But also there's a softness, like ... almost a little nougat in there?"

"That is what gives it its ‘fog,' I believe," he murmured. "That airy quality."

"It's amazing!" she said, and drooled a little speaking around a mouthful of chocolate. "Could I ... Could I have a little more?"

"You may have the whole bar, dear lady," he said, and the golden flecks in his eyes sparkled as he smiled. "I have plenty more ..."

Half an hour later, the plane interior was much darker. The sun had finished setting, and people were dozing, or watching movies with their headphones. Only a few overhead pinpoint lights lit up the interior gloom.

Amber had a tummy full of chocolate. She'd finished the bar in a surprisingly short time, and had been allowed to devour a second too. Now, she leaned back in her seat, feeling the gentle rocking of the plane and hearing its dull roar, and feeling ... lulled. Lulled into a repose.

Lull, lull, lull. What a funny word, she thought. Lol. Lull. Lulllllled ...

She looked over at Dr Suresh, with a dopey smile and lidded, glazed eyes. "Thasss so good ..." she whispered. "Bess chocklit ever ... It makes me, like, happy ..."

The chocolate taste coated the inside of her mouth. It felt like was coating her brain, too, which was sluggish. Thoughts were moving slowly through the rich, chocolatey fog in her head.

"I am very glad to hear that," said her seatmate. "You look like you are enjoying it thoroughly."

He raised his armrest and, moving his sample case and the blanket he'd gotten from the stewardess, slid into the seat beside her.

"I am always interested in learning more about the special properties of these special beans. So I do enjoy finding more test subjects. Tell me – and please be honest, this is for posterity – how do you feel?"

She giggled, quietly. "I feel ssoooo goooood ..." she whispered. "Like, rosy! Like no worries, no stress, all the tension I was feeling in my body that I didn't even know I was carrying, has melted away! Like every cell in my body has gone on a happy lil vacation!!!"

"Well, that does sound delightful," he said, making a few notes on a small pad.

"Whadid you ssay was in there?"

"A mild sedative to slow the limbs, dopamines and opioids that produce a gentle euphoria, similar to being pleasantly intoxicated. Some components of the bean that inhibit activity in the prefrontal cortex and make you highly suggestible, that we have ... enhanced. And of course some pretty damn good chocolate."

He smiled, and his teeth seemed to shine in the dim light of the plane interior. She could see his eyes glittering, almost like a cat's.

"... Huhh?" she slurred. There was a bit of chocolate-brown drool at one corner of her mouth. She seemed to be having trouble focusing on him.

"Now," he went on. "Here's my question. I know the chocolate makes you happy. Makes you dopey. And it sometimes can be addictive. What I don't know is ..." And he leaned closer. "Does the chocolate make you horny?"

She blinked, and focused a little bit, looking deeply into his eyes. "H-horny?"

"Yes. You can feel it now, can't you? You can feel the rich, melting pleasure coursing through you, from your tongue up to your brain, and down through your whole body ... Melting away your inhibitions, covering your objections with flavor and pleasure." She was captivated by his eyes, dancing and sparkling. She hardly had to listen to his words. "The chocolate fog fills your whole body, making your nipples erect, yes? Your tummy tingle. Your arms and legs are like lead, heavy with the weight of their happiness, and your pussy ... oh, your pussy is singing, and buzzing, drinking in the rich, chocolatey heat. It's getting so aroused, so needy. Why, if you think about it – and it is hard to think, isn't it? – but if you think about it, you can feel your whole body, and all your mind, melting into your needy, foggy pussy. If only you could lift your arms, you would be desperate to pinch your nipples. Desperate to rub your clit. As it is, you can't help but squeeze your thighs together, around that heat, that aching need ... Isn't that right? You're squeezing right now, aren't you?"

She couldn't look away from his eyes. She could barely blink. Her eyes were watering. She nodded. Her whole body was consumed with hunger – no longer for chocolate, but for sex. For carnal pleasure. For cock. Yes! She needed to be filled with cock! That's what she craved now!!

She whimpered, quietly, in that dozing, dark plane filled with unknowing passengers, staring into the eyes of her kindly seatmate.

He moved the blanket over her lap without breaking eye contact, and pressed his hand into her crotch under its cover. He raised her skirt and stroked a finger along the moist heat of her panties-covered mound. She moaned and twitched, her mouth falling open, staring into his eyes.

"Please ..." she whispered. "Please, I'm so horny ..."

"My only question," he said, smiling directly into her eyes, "is whether you would have gotten so horny if I hadn't suggested it. Did I implant that thought into your suggestible brain? Or does the chocolate actually make you horny by itself?"

He moved her panties aside, and stuck a finger deep into her wetness. Her eyes filled silently with gratitude, already dreaming how she wanted to spend the whole weekend with him, letting his fingers and his cock and his chocolate do everything he wanted to with her.

"Every time, I tell myself I'm going to just wait and see," he went on, stroking her sex, already bringing her close to her first mind-breaking orgasm. "I won't say a word, just observe. But every time ... well ... I can't help it. I tell you how good your body feels. And it does."

She grasped his strong arm in both her little hands, and gasped in ecstasy, trying to be as quiet as possible and mostly succeeding.

"Six times now, and every time, I ruin the experiment. I just can't stop talking! It is a failing. I am a bad scientist."

He grinned.

"But you forgive me ... Don't you?"

And his eyes sparkled.

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not-to-me · 10 months ago

Text

Ask For My Love (DW One-Shot)

(Gif is mine)

Fourth Doctor x f!afab!reader — 18+ NO MINORS

Requested by anon: May I request a fourth doctor x female reader with a daddy kink + innocence kink with Fourth being the dom?

Summary: A quiet day in leads to a heated encounter between you and the Doctor.

Warnings: SMUT, daddy kink, (my attempt at) innocence kink, unprotected sex, creampie, slight cockwarming? Four being sweet is still kinda rough dhskdf, one (1) spank, English is not my first language and I did not read his through ToT

———

“…Doctor? …Why are you staring at me like that?” You looked up from the book you’d been reading. You had noticed the Doctor staring in your general direction, and you couldn’t focus anymore. When you’d made him agree to spend a quiet day in the library of the TARDIS, you had expected him to at least try to read something.

“Like what? I was just thinking.” He snapped out of his entranced gaze and looked at you as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“You had some look on your face…” you told him, sounding lost in thought. Absentmindedly, you fidgeted with the edges of your book, your attention elsewhere.

“Did I now?” The Doctor leaned forward in his chair across from you and continued, “Maybe I was thinking about how good you’d look sitting in my lap instead of that chair.” He grinned an unreadable grin, as usual. Your brows shot up, and your eyes grew wide. You fancied him, yes, and you’ve even kissed before, but you still weren’t prepared for those words. And yet… something tingled in your tummy as you processed what he had said.

The Doctor could tell. He leaned back again and casually spread his legs, resting a hand on his thigh. A noise got caught in your throat. You looked down at your all-but-forgotten book as your mind reeled with its inner debate. Should or shouldn’t. But ultimately, you couldn’t see anything wrong with it; after all, it was just getting comfortable in his lap instead of your chair. Sounded nice, actually.

Hesitantly, you got up to walk over to the tall alien looking at you expectantly. You paused awkwardly before him, between his legs, prompting him to pat his thigh, leaving no doubt where he wanted you to sit. You thought about how to go about it for a second, and then, as smoothly as you could manage, you moved to straddle his lap. It was the easiest position since he had his legs spread like that.

The Doctor smiled, satisfied. His hands came up to rest on your hips, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your sides.

“Ah yes, I was right… You look absolutely wonderful in my lap.” You shifted awkwardly as you took in the compliment, making the Doctor’s smile darker. He pulled you closer yet. Your heart beat a little faster at that, and you felt butterflies soaring in your tummy.

The Doctor liked you a lot. Some would say he loved you, even, but he tried not to think about such feelings too much. He liked your clever intuition, and that’s why he decided to let you come with him. But then, somewhere along the line, he started having eyes for your looks. Something about the cute face you’d pull when he showed you affection, how naïve you could be despite your smarts… and maybe your cluelessness when he’d finally kissed you that one time.

You liked that kiss. A lot. You just hadn’t been expecting it. In your life, you guessed you had focused on more than love. And yet, here you were, perched on the Doctor’s lap with your eyes fixed on his lips. He smiled.

“Go on,” he encouraged you. You shyly leaned forward until your lips brushed his, kissing him gingerly. That is until he started kissing back, his lips working against yours with purpose. It made you gasp, much to the Doctor’s satisfaction, as he could then deepen the kiss further. One big hand of his came to pull you even closer by the small of your back while the other had found its way to your thigh, slowly travelling up. Once he reached mid-thigh, you breathlessly pulled away, though there wasn’t much room between you two.

You said his name with a weak voice. Your breathing was shaky from the kiss, but you could tell that the Doctor only wanted more. You hadn’t pictured your relationship with him going quite this fast, but that’s how it usually goes with the Doctor. The heat between your thighs convinced you, however, that you wanted this. You just needed him to guide you. As if he read your thoughts, his hands both travelled to your hips and pulled you further down upon him.

He was hard. You should’ve expected it at this point, but the realisation still wrenched a gasp from you. The Doctor only held you tighter against him.

“Feel that? Yeah?” He looked at you with icy fire in his eyes, “Do you want it?” he asked, making you whine and nod timidly. This made the Doctor’s expression darken.

“Ah, ah… use your words,” he commanded, a barely noticeable smile on his face. The kind of expectant smile that told you he knew he had you wrapped around his finger.

“Yes— yes, Doctor. I want it,” you said in a more certain voice than you had dared to hope for, though you were still in his grasp, not quite knowing what to do. His smile strengthened.

“Good girl.”

Something in you blossomed at the simple praise, and you melted into his hold. The Doctor took this opportunity to kiss you again, his lips working in tandem with yours. You soon felt his hand grasp your thigh again, starting to approach your core, making your heart skip a beat and your body tremble in anticipation. This time, you weren’t going to stop him.

And he didn’t stop either. Pushing his way under your skirt whilst you whimpered into his mouth, he found your soaked panties. He smiled into the kiss. His fingers soon began pleasuring your pussy through the thin layer of fabric, only making more noises escape your lips. Eventually, you had to pull away again, immediately burying your face in the crook of his neck in a futile attempt at containing your moans.

But the Doctor wouldn’t let you, no, but instead of depriving you of the comfort of clinging to him, he simply made it impossible to hide your pleasured noises through other means. Namely, he pushed your underwear to the side and rubbed your clit directly. Your hips bucked against his hand, and you let out a gasp. He soon decided to up the ante as he felt himself twitch in his pants, so he carefully plunged a thick, calloused finger into your tight, wet hole.

“Does this feel good, little one?” he asked, thrusting the finger in and out slowly but making sure to drag nicely along your walls. Your head shot up to look him in the eyes again. You were beginning to look like a needy mess, but the Doctor found it incredibly endearing.

“Y— ye-sss— ah! Doctor!” You moaned and ground your hips down on his hand.

“Do you know what would make it feel even better?” He paused, though it was a rhetorical question, “If you called me daddy instead.”

After briefly processing his words, your core erupted with desire at the proposal. You weren’t confused as much as you were surprised; you knew of this kink, but you hadn’t expected to be into it. You clenched down on his finger inside you and whined. You almost couldn’t get your following words past your lips as you could practically feel your tongue tying, but a wiggle of his digit against your inner walls made you blurt it out.

“Daddy!” you cried.

The Doctor grinned in amusement and fulfilment. Immediately after the word escaped you, he rewarded you by curling his finger just so and thrusting just right for you to see stars.

“That’s it… good girl.” His free hand soothed over your back as you rocked against him. He felt you tighten up around him at the praise, and his pants got unbearably tight at the thought of you clenching like that around his cock. He added another finger soon after, suddenly more eager than ever to be inside you properly.

“Doesn’t it feel good? Daddy getting your cunt all nice and ready for him?” You could only nod desperately and whimper out broken moans as he started to bang his fingers against your G-spot. You clung to him like you’d fall if you didn’t. You were building up to a climax. Your moans took on a different tone, and the Doctor noticed, doubling his efforts and waiting one, two, three seconds before adding a thumb on your clit, drawing tight circles.

Your orgasm solidified, and you cried out for him; all the while, his eyes raked over your body and face, committing every detail to memory. Your slick was dripping on his hand, which made him groan. The Doctor helped you ride out your high, not stopping until you weakly pushed at his hand. He then pulled out his fingers, letting you catch your breath.

The Doctor looked not unlike a mess himself. His face was flushed, and his clothes were ever so slightly askew. His throat looked oh so kissable. You let out a pathetic little noise and dropped your head to the crook of his neck once more, rolling your hips against him as you felt his cock twitch beneath you. He growled. Unable to rein himself in, he took firm hold of your hips and ground up against you with powerful movements. It made your body light up with even more desire, and you whined into his shoulder.

Making a decision, the Doctor stopped. He pulled you upright and swiftly lifted your top up over your head while breathing heavily from the brief but undeniable pleasure. He admired your newly exposed skin, and his large hands travelled up the curves of your body to your breasts to hold and squeeze them. While rubbing his thumbs over your nipples, he looked into your eyes. His eyes appeared to be deeper than an ocean at this moment. Your lips were parted from the small gasps that escaped you.

“Will you let me fuck you, little one? Let daddy fuck you senseless?” There was a slightly desperate tone to his otherwise deep voice. He needed you to say yes so badly.

“Please! Please, daddy…” You nodded and begged him, never having wanted anything more.

“Yeah? Get undressed.” He let go of you, giving you the freedom to get up and drop your panties and skirt to the floor. While you did this, the Doctor freed his cock from its confines. He stroked it leisurely as he watched you step out of your clothes. When it dawned on you what he was doing, a noise of part protest, part arousal escaped you. He only chuckled in response, patting his lap to invite you back.

Filled with a need for him, you climbed into his lap again with trembling limbs. The Doctor’s hands slid appreciatively over your body, guiding you to where he wanted you to be, just above his dick.

“Go on, my dear… Take it in your speed; I know it’s big.” A slight smirk was apparent in the Doctor’s voice and on his lips. You whined, slightly unsure of yourself, so you locked eyes with him. Luckily, he knew exactly what you needed. With one hand on his cock and the other guiding your hips, he pressed himself against the entrance of your soaking wet pussy. He mumbled words of encouragement to you, letting you control the moment for now.

Slowly, you sank down on his thick cock. When the head popped in, you gasped, your core abuzz with pleasure. The Doctor hummed, looking pleased. He was big, so did your core tell you when you slowly let him into you. Your breathing was shaky by the time you had taken about half of him. He looked to be in absolute bliss, which made you tighten up momentarily. You willed yourself to relax around him as you sank down on the last bit of him. A broken moan fled your lips, and the Doctor groaned as he felt your wetness engulf him so utterly.

“Doing so well for daddy, so tight around me… fuck,” the Doctor rambled in pleasure, “Tell me when you’re ready,” he commanded, both hands running soothingly over your hips and thighs. He had no intention of letting you ride him; he didn’t even think you could with the way you were whining.

After a hot minute, your muscles relaxed around his girth, and you breathed deeply, rolling your hips against him, causing a gasp from both of you. You nodded your confirmation, but the Doctor quickly swatted at your ass, landing a nice spank and making your cunt even tighter for him.

“Do I have to tell you again?” he said sternly. You had to wrack your brain for what he meant, but then you remembered with a whine how he’d told you to use your words.

“N-no, daddy… fuck. I’m ready,” you said, and you felt him pulse inside you.

“Good,” the Doctor simply said. Big, rough hands came to hold your hips tight. He planted his feet firmly on the floor, guided you up slowly so only the tip of him was inside you, and then he fucked up into you. Hard. You yelped, the sharp sensation both giving you pain and pleasure, though you quickly felt pleasure winning overwhelmingly as the Doctor simply continued his rough movements.

The Doctor couldn’t remember a time he had been more pleased. You were letting him debase you like this. His lovely, little companion. You were all his… no one would be able to fuck you quite as good after this. He basked in the unending stream of noises that flew from your soft lips, feeling pride that he was causing them.

Your tits bounced tantalisingly in his face, tempting his hand up to cup one not too gently. Your eyes were partly closed in pleasure as the Doctor rocked your world.

“All I’ve been thinking about is this,” the Doctor said in between grunts, “Your tight cunt taking my cock, those noises you make, fuck… Do you like my cock inside you? Yeah? Good girl.” He was panting with the effort of fucking you so thoroughly, but that apparently wasn’t enough to stop his tongue as he rambled.

You leant down to kiss him. You both needed the nearness and for him to shut up lest you cum already. However, with every vigorous thrust of the Doctor’s hips, you felt your end draw nearer. Your moans were swallowed by him as you kissed, and he held you close, almost possessively. His clothed chest against your naked one provided a nice contrast, and it made you clench down on him as you realised he was still fully clothed whilst you were completely naked in his lap.

Feeling your walls flutter, the Doctor also sensed your impending high. He parted with your lips and kissed down your neck quickly, marking you with bites and hickeys.

“Going to cum for daddy? Go on, baby, Daddy is close too,” he said, and it was true. You felt his cock twitch and throb inside you, preparing to paint your walls with his seed. You threw your head back with a cry. You were right there, teetering on the edge. The Doctor smiled against your shoulder, kissed your skin there and brought a calloused hand to your cunt to give your clit a flick, consequently sending you hurtling over the edge. You screamed and sobbed, thrashing in his hold as a forceful orgasm took its hold of you. You milked his rock-hard cock, causing the Doctor to bottom out inside you with a yell, shooting his seed into you. He groaned and rutted against you as his peak washed over him. The warm, sticky mess inside you warmed you up and made a couple blissful tears fall from your eyes.

You were panting messes as you held each other close and basked in the afterglow. The Doctor looked at you with a soft smile, glint in his eyes. He cupped your cheek in a sweet gesture.

“You feel wonderful in my lap too, might I add,” he said, making you chuckle as you remembered how this all started. You didn’t have a witty comeback, though, so you just sighed peacefully and snuggled into him, your head under his chin and his cock still buried in your cunt. You’d both soon get up to get clean, but you were content in each other’s arms for now.

#fourth doctor x reader #the doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #x reader #fourth doctor smut #smut #doctor who smut #my fic

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