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scarlettriot · 3 years ago

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Stood Up

You (Y/N) get stood up from a date and Kaminari decides to do something about it.

Pairing: Kaminari/F!Reader

Contains: Fluff, Flirty Denki, Established BakuSquad Friendship

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Electro-Stim, Overstimulation, use of pet names (cuddle bug & cutie), oral (F receiving), consensual recording

A/N: Well, here we are with the third in my Stood Up series. There is also Bakugo & Kirishima if you're interested. This one took me way too long and it's also my first time writing Kaminari at length. I hope you all like it :)

Word Count Starting Below: 2,461

You slipped your foot into the silver heels you had picked out. Something a little fancier since this was a first date after all and you wanted to make a lasting impression. Not only that but this was your first first date in a while. Being a Pro Hero made life busy and dating difficult.

Practically the entire day leading up to this very moment revolved around you either getting ready or babbling with excitement to your closest friends.

An alert chimed on your phone with a text from your date, a smile sliding onto your face expecting to read some message about how they were on their way and that they'd see you soon, but that wasn't what you were met with.

Instead, it was a screenshot of your Instagram page, multiple of them actually, all of you and the ridiculous photos you took with your friends but mostly with one Denki Kaminari. The most recent of which was from a tea shop he met you at just earlier that day so you could show him the shoes for your date.

The message below was simple and more than enough to leave a sour taste in your mouth, this isn't what I want to see when I'm supposed to be taking you out tonight. What, one date a day isn't enough? Why are you even dating? Does your blonde boyfriend know?

You giggled at what they were implying, quick to explain how these were all your friends, they had been since high school! They are people you spent what little free time you had with. Especially Denki, your best friend since you were 15!

That joy you felt started dissipating within the next few messages. You hadn't even had a first date and they were already jealous, and that was something you didn't have room for in your life. So, you slipped the heels off your feet and put them directly back in the box to return when you had the time. Tight black jeans and fitted top were exchanged with a hoodie and sweats although your makeup and hair stayed done, you didn't have the energy to undo your hard work.

Instead, you slid back into your computer chair, your headset snuggly back on your ears and before you notified everyone you were back online, you took a moment listening to the chatter of your friends.

"Shitty Hair! Fuckin' pay attention!"

"Yeah, man! We're getting slaughtered over here!"

"Less yelling at Kiri! More shooty shooty!"

"All of you are hopeless..."

Eijiro chuckled out an apology that was accompanied by a lighter giggle also coming from his mic. "Think this is gonna be my last round for a bit, guys."

"You're so fuckin' whipped." Bakugo scoffed, before screaming profanities.

"Is it whipped if I'm the one who's wanting to get her into bed though?"

You clicked your mic back on then. "Hey, remember last week when Kats forgot his push to talk so we all heard him getting head and we party whipped because someone couldn't focus?"

"You better shut the hell up right fucking now!"

Everyone else roared with laughter. "Yeah! At least I have the decency to mute myself!"

"Hey, wait a sec, why are you online, Y/N!" Denki noted, "You should have already left!"

You screenshot your messages to the group chat because it was far easier than just explaining the ordeal.

"Cute shoes." Eijiro and Kyoka commented at the same time.

There was a lull as their game ended and the messages were read.

"Ya don't need 'em if they're gonna have their head so far up their ass like this."

"I agree." Hanta chimed in. "They're not worth your time."

"Still, sorry they turned out to be a shit." You could hear the frown on Kyoka's face, "I know how excited you were."

"Right, you doin' okay, Y/N? I can stick around and we can all shoot some things!"

"Thanks, Kiri but I'll be just fine! Go spend time with your girl!"

One by one, everyone signed off. You pulled up Spotify and Stardew Valley, something of a comfort for you to get lost in for the rest of the night.

Less than an hour later, you noticed your phone lighting up with your best friend's familiar smiling face. "What's up, Denki?"

"Open your door! I have my hands full and don't wanna put everything down to get my key!"

You sprang from your desk and rushed to your door. Sure enough, on the other side was Denki with bags in both hands and his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. You grabbed it and a bag before he had a chance to drop anything like the klutz he was. "What's with all this?"

"I feel bad."

"Why? You didn't stand me up?"

He fiddled with the edge of a paper bag. "Yeah, but, we both read those messages and no one said anything but they didn't just call our group out, they called us out.

"Denks, it doesn't matter to me-"

"But, it does to me! You were so excited about this and I got in the way, unknowingly but, still! So, I gotta make it up to you now!"

He pulled out take-out boxes from your favorite restaurant. Two bottles of your favorite wine. Your top three favorite movies and video games, and a board game you both had been meaning to try. "I mean, if they think I'm your boyfriend I kinda gotta live up to the hype, right?"

You really wanted to insist that none of this was necessary. That just because some person that neither of you really knew that well, assumed something about your relationship that didn't mean he had to blame himself for it.

But, you had to admit, this was really sweet. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to you that he knew everything you liked but it was nice. Instead of sitting across from a stranger, making awkward small talk, and trying to learn about one another, you were barefoot in your kitchen, laughing with your best friend while he plated dinner and you poured the wine.

Formalities were out the window. Both you and Denki were eating dinner in your living room, laughing and drinking just as you'd done a million times before. You snapped a photo of the delicious food on paper plates, toasting good times with your cheap wine, ready to post them to your Instagram.

"Gonna make them more jealous..."

"I think they made it pretty clear they don't want to see me so why should I care?"

He shrugged. "I just thought they might, you know, come to their senses that they obviously lost."

"I don't really care either way." You wandered back into your kitchen, putting away the leftovers, "They can forget I exist or they can stalk my page like a creep. If someones' gonna try and tell me I can't be friends with my friends or just not listen to me, then I don't want them in my life. No matter how good-looking they are."

Denki watched you from the sofa, a bit of a lopsided grin on his face that had butterflies taking flight in your stomach. "What?" Laughing to hide the bit of a crush you always had on the man. It was unavoidable you told yourself. His personality was infectious and had 15 year old you head over heels.

He pushed back bright blonde hair back off his forehead and just shook his head. "Nothin'. Uh, what's next? Video game, board game, or movie?"

You peaked on the counter at the options. "Well, we probably should have checked this but the board game needs at least four people to play... guess we'll have to save that for our next game night. Is a movie okay?"

Of course, it was.

You brought over the DVD with a refill of wine and he pulled a blanket down off the back of your sofa.

It really didn't take long, just fifteen minutes or so, and you were curled up into Denki's side. You'd make grabby hands for your wine glass and he'd pass it over with that damn grin again.

And not long after that, he'd pulled out his phone, angling it to take a picture of the two of you. "What are you doing?" You could see him on his own Instagram, tagging you, with the caption, Check out my cute cuddle bug.

"I thought you didn't want to make them more jealous."

"I decided I don't care either. You're mine tonight, their loss. And since you're mine tonight, I get bragging rights." He snapped another quick picture of you rolling your eyes at him, and then he kept snapping them.

"Denki! Why!"

"Because you're cute, cuddle bug! I like having all the pictures of you that I can!"

Even as you tackled him back down on the sofa, pinning him below you, he still managed a photo. "Bet if I post this one, they'll really get the wrong idea."

You could have moved. You were the one on top of him and you had his arms above his head. You had the power here and yet you just lingered above him.

"Y/N? Not that I'm one to complain about having a beautiful person such as yourself pinning me down, like, it's kinda hot, but..." Looking down into half-lidded golden eyes, you wondered why you had to become best friends with such a damn flirt! "Are you gonna take advantage of this situation we're in or are we just gonna keep dancing around this for another decade or so?"

You couldn't have heard him right? No... no this was your brain playing tricks on you because he certainly hadn't had that much wine tonight. You sat upright on his lap. "Another decade then, Y/N?"

"You- ha- you should stop that, Denki."

He leaned up, moving his arms around you, "Gimme a good reason to and I will."

You didn't have one. And not just because you've been in love with him for ten years but also because he was your best friend. The only reason to not go through with it was the possibility of losing your friendship if something bad were to happen but, you really didn't think anything would.

Denki might have been a serial flirt but he was surprisingly loyal in all the relationships he'd been in, not that there had been all that many serious ones.

"I'm not hearing anything." He teased, his face getting closer to yours. You could count each and every one of the faint freckles that littered the balls of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. "But, I promise, if you tell me no, I'll stop, won't push this any further."

This whole thing seemed like a frickin' whirlwind, happening faster than your brain could really process the situation but you didn't want it to stop either. You wanted to take it further, didn't want to say no.

Which was why you coiled your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. There was that small little buzz of electricity that tickled your lips when he'd kiss your nose or cheeks that was now playing on his lips, on his tongue when you welcomed him in.

He leaned back again, pulling you with him until you were both a pile of needy hands and breathy pleas. Everywhere his hands roamed you felt that faint trail of shock against your skin, making the little hairs on your body stand on end.

Clothes were shed, tossed haphazardly around your living room, both of you pausing to laugh when Denki managed to land your hoodie over a lamp. His attention was drawn back to you quickly though, still perched on top of him but now he had your chest on full display since you'd forgone a bra when your date canceled.

Electrifying tongue twirled around your nipples, sensitive normally, now it felt like you knew what it was like when he fried his damn brain. He was eager, relentless even, pulling and sucking, another hand giving your other breast a similar treatment. He had you so focused that you let out a broken moan when slender fingers found their way into your panties.

"Fuckin' hell, Denki."

The bastard winked up at you, nipple still between his lips and before you could retort, he sent another small jolt through you.

You were blatantly grinding down on his hand, reaching behind you, you found him completely solid, barely being contained in the tight black boxers he wore. You had enough sense to tug them down and wrap your hand around him making his teeth sink into your soft flesh, whining when you stroked him.

"Y/N..." He whimpered, his hand momentarily distracted from his ministrations gave you enough time to shift in his lap to scoot forward putting his cock in front of you. In one swift motion, you had his length between your slick. "Oh fuck, cutie!" Golden eyes were squeezed shut while you moved along him, feeling that pleasant curve he had, you could only imagine what it was gonna be like to have him inside you.

"You're being a little tease, ma-makes me wanna do all sorts of things to y-you."

He was kissing your neck, your chest, shoulders, and arms, anywhere on you that he could reach. His hips bucking up into you, just trying to hit that perfect angle.

Strength and agility were something most overlooked when it came to Denki Kaminari but when the man wanted something bad enough, he found a way to get it.

He had your ass rising up in the air with a harsh thrust of his hips and a small squeak from you, giving him exactly enough time to scoot down on the sofa so you were sat atop his face. If you complained, he didn't hear you. Denki already had your thighs around his head and his tongue devouring you completely.

Little shockwaves rocked you while you cried out his name, hands fisting blonde locks just trying to stay upright.

One orgasm from you apparently wasn't enough, neither was two but on the third, Denki finally relented, allowing your heartrate to come back down and your gasping breaths to come in more steadily.

You slid back down his body, his erection now smack against your ass. His hair was recked, face completely flush but he had the biggest grin on his face that you'd ever seen.

Denki kissed both your cheeks, "You are so amazing, cutie!" Kissed your lips, "You taste better than anything I've ever had!" And one more on the tip of your nose. "Doin' okay?"

You nodded, starting to really gather yourself again, and by this point, you really just wanted one thing.

"I wanna... Denks... can I take care of you now?"

"Sure, cutie! How do you want me?" The wiggling eyebrows had you rolling your eyes and pushing him on his back again.

It took little effort for you to position yourself above his cock, and with how slick you were, his bright pink head slipped right inside. He held your hands while you scrunched up your face, sliding all the way down him until he was completely sheathed within.

The curve was immaculate. Hitting in just the right way that had you moaning with just a couple thrusts from him. Before long, you were eagerly bouncing on his cock. Riding him hard so he filled you up each and every time.

You barely registered him reaching for the coffee table, his phone now in his hands. "What're you doin'?" You practically slurred, slowing only slightly. He tapped the camera lens with a wicked grin. "Seriously?"

"We could make 'em really jealous now..."

Somewhere in your brain, you knew your date wouldn't give two shits, in fact, this probably would have only validated their thoughts about your's and Denki's relationship but with his cock stuffed so deeply into you, kissing your cervix in the most beautiful way, you really didn't give a damn.

You and Denki put on the best possible show you could think of. You were overstimulated, sore, and completely elated! He balanced the phone against the wine bottle so neither of you had to try to hold it.

This way he could play with your breasts or squeeze your thighs while you dug half-moons into his chest. Shocked with the playful zaps he sent right to your core.

Your makeup you'd didn't feel like taking off now ran down your cheeks with tears. Your hair was a mess thanks to him pulling at it.

Denki had you howling through another two orgasms, telling you how perfect you were, how nice you felt squeezing him so tightly, your nails felt so good against his skin.

It was only when you collapsed against his chest did he hoist your hips up so he could ram into you, pulling out just at the last second with a strangled cry of your name.

He wiggled himself free, grabbing a towel from your bathroom and cleaning you both up before stopping the recording.

"You're, hey you're gonna send that to me right?" You asked when he handed back your hoodie off the lamp.

He dropped a kiss on your lips, plopping down beside you on the sofa again and you noticed your email already up and the video uploading. "Obviously, we share all our videos and photos. Why would this be different?"

#mha #bnha #mha smut #denki kaminari #kaminari #kaminari smut #denki kaminari smut #mha fluff #denki fluff #denki smut #denki x you #mha x reader #kaminari x reader #denki x reader

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nagito-kissmaeda · 3 years ago

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Mother May I Sleep with Danger - Servant!Nagito Komaeda x Reader

ミ☆ not a request, I’m just really horny for servant asjdkfkflddj

Summary: future foundation reader is kidnapped by the WOH and figures if they’re going to die anyway……..

Contains: Explicit Sexual Content, Fem reader, no pronouns used

Word Count: 3589

The foundation is not going to be happy with you.

Not only did you balls up your mission into Towa City, but now your uniform is ripped all to hell, basically slashed to ribbons by the Monokuma who managed to overpower you. It was your new set too, all fresh and clean. This mess is going to get you seriously mocked by the men in operations when you get back.

That is if the foundation even lets you back onto the helicopter after this disaster of a mission.

You huff and turn to face the man lurking in the far corner of your cell. He’s been standing there for the past 20 minutes, just shaking and staring at you with wide grey eyes. You had been planning to just ignore him until he left, but he isnt leaving, “What do you want?”

He doesn’t answer, just wraps his arms around himself and starts giggling.

“Are you just going to stand there all day?” You snap, crossing your arms and glaring up at him from your seat on the floor, “If you’re going to kill me just get it over with, the anticipation has all but worn off and I'm just starting to get angry.”

“Ah...kill you?” He giggles again. His voice is a lot gentler than you had been expecting. What with the manic eyes and tangled hair. You were prepared for him to be downright menacing. He sucks in a breath and levels his gaze with you, “I wouldn't kill you. That would be waste.” The chain around his throat jangles as he gestures at you with his mitted hand, knees wobbling like they are barely strong enough to keep him upright, “Honestly, a bug like myself killing you would help no one. It would be utterly disappointing for both sides, and what is the point in that? No despair...no hope...ahhhhaaaa…” he brings the cuff of his jacket up to his mouth and starts gnawing on it, “it would be completely pointless...mm?”

“Why haven't the children killed you?” Your brows draw together, watching his balance shifting from foot to foot, “You must be at least eighteen, right?”

He wheezes, throwing one shoulder up in a haphazard shrug, “Older. I think. I honestly can’t remember.”

For some reason. A terrible little voice in the back of your head whispers - Hey, at least it’s legal! You balk at your own lack of decorum. The man is still currently chewing so furiously on his sleeve that drool has started rolling down his chin, his hair is so matted that if you dug your fingers into it you would probably never get them out again. You are smart enough to take one look at this wheezing, sweating, drooling mess of a man and think: gross.

Unfortunately, your cunt is dumb enough to disagree.

Maybe it’s because you’re going to die anyway. Maybe it’s because his black jeans cling very tightly to his thighs. Maybe you just have terrible taste in men. It doesn’t matter why, but for some godforsaken reason, you are attracted to him.

“So. Are they just keeping you around as a--” you examine him again, eyes locking on the chain dangling down by his knees. (why does looking at that make you want to rub your thighs together?) “--a...pet?”

He laughs again, finally letting the sleeve he was chewing on drop back down to his side, “A fitting position for someone like me, but no. I am their servant.” The man takes a step towards you, the chain jangles in ways that your insides apparently find arousing. You swallow, “I came to this town to seek refuge, but...well...you can see how that turned out.” he laughs again, shoulders quaking with the noise. You can help but notice the stiff way the hand obscured by his mitt is moving. Like he doesn't have any real control over it.

“Ah.” You say, eyes still focussed on the hand you cannot see, but can imagine perfectly well. That hand, along with his age, seem to only lead to one conclusion, “You’re one of the remnants of despair, aren’t you?”

He grins at you, manic, all sharp teeth and wild eyes, taking another step closer to you “Oh! I didn’t expect you to recognise common garbage like me…” he makes a noise that is dangerously close to being a moan, before exclaiming, “you’re right, I am!” His grin turns syrupy in a way that you find yourself enjoying much more than you should. His eyes hooded as he breathes, “does that disgust you? Does my very presence make you want to spit in my face?”

The way he speaks, his soft lilting tone. It almost sounds like he is crooning, purring. You shift on the floor, trying to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs. You have gone from wanting to fuck a regular crazy man, to wanting to fuck a crazy man literally out for capture by the company you work for.

“Listen.” You start, suddenly nervous, “The foundation is looking for you, all of you. But Togami in the other cell and I are working with-”

Your words catch in your throat when he comes barreling towards you and claps his bare hand over your mouth. His eyes are wild when they meet yours, pupils little more than pinpricks in dark swirling circles that dig deep inside of you, his voice drops to a terrifying whisper, “No. Not yet...I have important work I must do and you will not keep me from it.”

“We want to help.” You hiss into the meat of his palm. Horrified at how you feel the jagged grin that tugs at his mouth deep in your stomach. His mouth pulls so wide that his lips tear and bleed, drool pooling at the corners of his mouth and dripping over his lips when he starts laughing again, loud and manic, wheezing and decrepit.

“You truly are an embodiment of hope. You think you can...ah...haha…” He wheezes again, tangled white hair falling over his face and he tries to hold in a laugh, “You truly think you can help me? What a feat that would be! Endlessly impressive I’m sure” He leans in closer to you, eyes calm once again, hooded and piercing, “Thank you for your kindness, but I assure you. It will not be so simple.”

His face is so close to yours now, you can feel his breath on your face, see the bags under his eyes and the way his papery skin has wrinkled around the corners of his mouth. He looks half dead, but under that. You see soft skin, pretty long eyelashes and what are undoubtedly the most stunning eyes you have ever seen. You are going to die soon anyway, so you dont stop yourself from whispering, “You were very pretty once. Weren’t you?”

His lips curl into a smile, but his eyes look almost sad, “Most would disagree.”

“Hm. That’s a shame.” you whisper, trying to ignore the seductive tone you have adopted, “I think you’re still quite pretty now.”

He lets out a wheezing giggle, dropping down into a crouch in front of you and resting his hands on his knees, “Are you trying to win me over with words of kindness? With sharp lies wrapped in goose down?”

They aren't lies, but you can tell he won't believe you even if you try to convince him, “Just tell me what you want with me.”

“What do I want with you?” He breathes, reaching out a shaky hand and running his knuckles down your cheek. One side of his mouth quirks up in a smile at the feeling of your skin, “I don’t want anything...eheh...I just...I just want to watch. I want to see what you will do, I want to see you fight.”

“I’d be able to fight better if you let me out of the cell.”

“Aha. Cute.” He drags his tongue over his lower lip, “But wouldn't it be so much more satisfying to watch you overcome impossible odds? For your hope to overcome the utmost despair?” His head tilts to the side and he smiles, “I have faith in you. I’ll be cheering you on, just dont expect my help.”

The more he talks, the less you understand him. At this point you're barely even listening to his words and are just letting the soft tones of his voice wash over you, his eyes are blinding, it feels like he is staring straight through you. The door of the cell is still locked, Togami is still far enough away that he couldn't hear you if you screamed. Help won't be coming for a long time if it is even coming at all.

And you want to fuck a remnant of despair.

“What’s your name, pretty boy?” you whisper, reaching out a hand to push some of his tangled hair away from his face.

He stills, for a moment. The panic in his eyes is so powerful that even his ceaseless shivering stops. He blinks slowly, unsurely, and his lips pull up in a smile, “My pathetic name isn't even worthy of being heard by someone like you.” he breathes, leaning into your hand as it comes to rest on his cheek, “Servant will suffice.”

You make an upset noise, sitting up on your knees and leaning in closer to his face. His eyes aren’t grey, you realise, they’re green, “Are you sure? I was hoping for something a little more...intimate.”

“Intimate…” he whispers, almost like he is testing how the word tastes on his tongue. His face is so close to yours now, your hand reaches around and curls into the mess of hair on the back of his head. He starts shivering again, a wheezy laugh escaping his mouth almost breathlessly as he (with a surprising amount of tenderness) lowers you down to lay on the hard concrete below, “Is...this what you mean?”

Your heart is racing. He looms above you, knees planted firmly on either side of your hips. His hair tumbles down over his face, obscuring his beautiful green eyes in shadow and you feel your hips twitch upward at even the anticipation of his touch.

“Exactly what I mean.” you purr, slowly sliding your hand down the length of his chain. He quivers above you, a broken moan leaves his mouth when you give it a gentle tug. Your lips curl into a predatory smirk, and then you tug it again, hard.

His mouth collides with yours and a shocked gasp escapes his throat, his arms shake at your sides, desperate and almost panicked. It only takes a moment for him to soften, returning the kiss with a newfound passion, moaning deep and loud into your mouth and leaning into you. His kisses feel a little messy and unpracticed, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm. Choking on a groan when you bury a hand in his hair and pull tight on the strands.

He moves away from your mouth, trailing down the side of your throat and sucking hard on your skin. You can feel his breath hot and heavy in your ear as his tongue lathes over your flesh, teeth sinking in hard into the join between your throat and shoulder.

A moan breaks free from your mouth, and your hips buck upward high enough to meet Servant’s and you can feel his gasp against your skin. He grinds his hips down on yours in response, sucking in a breath at the friction.

“This…this really is my lucky day…” he whines, leaning back on his heels and undoing the few surviving buttons on your shirt. Your bra is conservative, skin toned and unflattering. It’s designed for missions out into the wastes of the world, not for whatever is happening right now.

Servant doesn’t seem to mind, running his tongue across his chapped lower lip, eyes blown wide as he drinks in your form. A shudder runs through him, and he swallows, “may I?”

You nod, “please…touch me…”

He giggles, gripping your breasts in both of his hands (though the hand hidden by the mitt is only really able to press down, but he is trying his best.) before burying his face between them, sighing happily against your skin. You choke on a moan when you feel his tongue run up your cleavage, hands squeezing almost desperately.

“Servant…” you whisper, “my bra, take it off…”

He leans up, a shy smile on his face, “Ah, I would like to! But uh, as I’m sure you know-“ he waves at you with his mitted hand, “-I can’t really use these fingers”

The thought of the dead hand attached at his forearm should deter you, but it doesn’t. You sit up just enough to unclasp your bra, chucking it off into the corner of the cell before grabbing Servant’s bare hand and pressing it to your breast. Servant chokes, brushing his thumb over your nipple.

Your breath hitches, and he is emboldened enough to take the other into his mouth. Your back instinctively arches upward, chasing the warmth of his mouth encasing your nipple, the finger and thumb on his bare hand pinching at twitching the other. His tongue is wet and sloppy, this is no precision to his licks and sucks. The servant is running on animalistic desperation alone.

Luckily, that doesn’t bother you much at all.

The cool metal of the chain presses down hard on your bare stomach, his mitt is scratchy where that hand is pressed firmly to your waist, not able to grab, but it still reads as possessive. You can feel him panting and moaning against your breast, his tangled white hair brushing against your skin in a way that makes you shiver. Your sex is aching, the way he furiously circles his tongue around your nipple feels almost feral and it makes you want more.

You hook your leg around the back of his knees, and use the leverage to flip the both of you over. Servant gasps when his back hits the ground. You grin, physical training at the Future Foundation is finally coming in handy.

Servant looks like a perfect ruin beneath you. His hair spread out on the hard concrete, eyes glassy with desire, cheeks bright red and mouth wet with saliva. You laugh, you can feel him quivering below you. The quivering grows worse when you tug his black jacket down off his shoulders and start working his shirt up and over his head. He is so thin, sickly, shaking, barely even there. All jutting bones and paper thin skin.

“Are they feeding you?” you find yourself asking quite seriously.

Servant giggles, “They’re children. I feed myself when I find the time.”

“You don't often find the time, do you?” he sucks in a breath when the tip of your finger runs up over his exposed ribs. You lean down and press a hot kiss to his collarbone, “Are you sure that you’ll have enough energy for this?”

“Ehehe...Don’t concern yourself with that-“ he leans up enough to lick all the way up the length of your throat, “I can be quite tenacious when required”

You don't doubt it. Leaning back down to kiss him firmly, licking into his open mouth as your hands trail down his torso and to the button on his jeans. He whines loudly when you undo the zipper and wrap your fist around the hardness in his boxers. His hips stutter up into your grip and you smile against his lips. He’s cute. It’s cute how desperate he is. You sit up, grinding your hips down against his, moaning aloud at the feeling of his cock pressing firmly against your clit through your panties.

Servant breaks out into a breathless giggle, panting and moaning as he pushes his hips up to meet yours, shivery and insatiable. The only light in the room is a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, just bright enough to catch on his teeth when his chapped lips curl back in a grin.

“Yes~” He whines when you grind down again, pretty eyes fluttering closed and white hair spreading even further across the concrete, “use me use me use me!”

You like that. You like that a lot, “You want to be used?” you breathe, sitting up just enough that you can wriggle out of your panties, hiking your tight pencil skirt up over your hips.

“Please...please…” he whimpers, hips stuttering up even though there is nothing to meet them. Drool trailing down his chin, “I want you to use me for your pleasure…” he gasps out a moan, like even the thought of it is too much for him, “...cum all over me...please...ruin me…”

“Okay…” you whisper, pulling his boxers and jeans down his thighs to expose his cock, he hisses a breath in through his teeth that turns into a moan when you grab him, “Can you be a good boy and stay still for me?”

He nods furiously. Thighs and stomach tensing as he forces himself not to move. It becomes even harder when you slowly slip yourself down on him, letting your head loll back in a moan at the feeling of him filling you. He cries out, hands jumping up to grab at your waist, trying so hard to keep his hips still when all he wants is to chase your warmth.

A smile crawls its way across your face when you lean forward, placing your arms on either side of his head. He stares up at you, enamoured with you, face flushed red and mouth hung open, “You feel so good, Servant.” you croon, slowly licking up the shell of his ear.

He mewls, thrusting up inside of you just a little. He just can't resist.

“I’m...I’m sorry, I'm so pathetic ehehe” he pants, “Can’t even follow such a simple order.”

“Well, hopefully you will do better with this next one.” You start, adjusting yourself so your bare breasts are now right in front of his face, “suck.”

He doesn't waste one second, licking up under one of your nipples and then pulling it into his mouth. Peering up at you through his pretty eyelashes as he sucks languidly on your tit, swirling his tongue around and moaning so deeply that you can feel the vibrations.

“Ahh…ah! You’re such a pretty boy, aren’t you?”

He nods

“Such a good boy.”

He nods again, moving his hands from your waists to your breasts, pressing them close enough together that he is able to suck on both nipples at once.

“Oh! Ohhhhhhhhh fuck- I…hng…” you rock your hips forward, keening loudly when the head of his cock meets your g-spot. Servant is still trying to stay still. Panting loudly as he furiously licks and sucks on both of your nipples. Wet and sloppy with little to no precision, so desperate to taste you, to devour you. The pleasure in your stomach is curling and twisting, the feeling of him so deep inside you, quivering as he resists the urge to move. It’s so much and not enough all at once.

“Servant…” you groan, hips twitching forward enough to grind your clit down on his pelvis, “you…you can move…”

His hips snap up immediately. He doesn’t waste even a second to drill himself deep inside of you, almost sobbing against the flesh of your breasts when the desperation he has been holding in finally gets to escape. He is animalistic, he is hungry. His hands move from your breasts to grip tightly to your hips, encouraging you to bounce up and down on his cock.

Luckily you don’t need much encouragement. Sitting up enough that your breasts leave his mouth with a lurid pop, throwing your head back and riding him like your life depends on it. Underneath you, you can hear the sound of his chain jangling with the force of his upward thrusts, along with his staccato breathing as he loses himself deeper and deeper within you.

Sweat drips down your forehead, down between your shoulder blades, it feels so good, it feels so wrong. The ever present itch of his mitt presses against your skin, a grim reminder of everything he is, everything he has done. It only turns you on more.

“I…I…AHAHAH! I’m…close.” He stammers, eyes wide when they fixate on the spot where you are joined, sharing himself disappearing inside of you again and again. His bare hand slides down your side and around to your clit, rubbing fast, messy circles that make your hips jump forward.

It’s too much, you can feel your insides growing tighter and tighter as his fingers bring you closer to the release you need so badly. Tossing your head back with a strangled moan as you finally cum, clenching hard around his cock and almost sobbing with how good it feels, how good he feels.

As Servant chases your release with his own, breaking into a breathless laughed as he pounds you with reckless abandon, cumming deep inside of you-

You can’t help but think that the foundation is really not going to be happy with you now.

But as Servant comes down from his high, his grip softens, his eyes grow sleepy, and he gives you a gentle smile that makes you heart race just a little-

And you realise that you don’t really care anymore.

#Nagito x reader #komaeda x reader #danganronpa x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #sorry about the formatting I’m on mobile right now I’ll fix it tomorrow lolololol

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gryffindors-weasley · 4 years ago

Text

Starlit Confession

Young!Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: On a camping trip tradition, your friends have got other plans neither you or Sirius are aware of.

Requested by @expelliarmusmyass : “can i request a classic enemies to lovers "there's only one bed" sirius x reader where all the marauders (+lily!) have a sleepover or camping trip of some sorts and lily and remus finally decide they need to get reader and sirius already and plan to get them to sleep in the same room/bed/tent ? thanks !!”

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: little bit of jealousy, mutual pining, fluff, kissing

A/N: Thank you for my first Sirius request!! I absolutely loved everything about it, I hope you enjoy!

July 1979

The breeze swept coolly across your face against the warm summer sun as you stuck your hand outside the window, the air gliding over the back of it. You were headed to the stretch of woods that you’ve all come to know so well, something that was highly anticipated the moment the summer season had begun. Camping. It was something you and your friends had made into tradition without much discussion against it for the last three years. Lily had saved up for the very Volkswagen bus you’d been sitting in, knowing for a fact she’d get more use out of it than a simple small car; she knew her four closest friends were in it for the long haul and that was something that would always remain true.

It was mostly a golden yellow color, near orange, its roof white with a matching tire cover on the front of it between two round headlights. It was adorable, it was perfect, and most importantly it was big enough to fit a boisterous group of friends that surely needed the space. It’d already housed jovial memories that would be cherished for years to come.

You’d each packed up a bag or two, tossed them in the back and set off to the ever familiar place the five of you had found to be the perfect spot. A clearing amongst the woods, a place not far from the waters edge. It looked near enchanting when sunbeams filter through old yet thriving trees, as much as it could be for being a place without the very magic you’ve known all your life. It was perhaps your favorite tradition out of all others that had been created, one that you never failed to look forward to. No matter what’s been going on with any of you, traditions were never missed or forgotten. That was one thing that was constant and one thing would never change.

Another thing that had been just the same was the constant need for Sirius Black to get under your skin. You’d known him ever since you both were fourteen years old, and every day since then had been a battle of who’d been more witty and your three best friends had yet to determine who had been the rightful owner of that title. You were always bickering about something or another, always tossing narrowed stares and scrunched noses, grumbling under breaths and eye rolls. Even despite that, James, Remus and Lily especially had been convinced that there were feelings amongst it all. It hadn’t been too terribly hard for them to jump to that conclusion. They had their suspicions with each and every look Sirius had found himself giving you when your attention was fixed elsewhere. At the very same look you’d cast upon him when he wasn’t looking. They were absent minded actions to you both, and that was all the more reason for them to think there was something there.

It drove the tight knit group absolutely mad to see their two dearest friends love each other without even knowing of that very fact—James found himself far too close on multiple occasions to flat out complaining of the sheer obliviousness between you two. To simply tell them how blind the two of you must be. But each and every time he’d nearly done so it was promptly stopped by a stern Lily Evans who was not to be defied. They felt another day of this was simply not an option, too painful to watch a second more.

Even now, as you sat in the back with the raven haired wizard, the seating arrangement proved to make for an interesting trip. There was a flurry of jests and quips to match them; it was inevitable when he’d taken the seat right next to you, Remus on his other side. It’d been something entirely intentional on Lupin’s part, though the bickering was something to be expected.

First it had been over who was taking up too much of whose space, something accompanied by a lighthearted series of shoves and stifled laughter when you looked away in hopes the other wouldn’t see it. Then it had been when he’d changed the radio from your favorite song to his with a simple twitch of his fingers, a back and forth battle of rock and ABBA that nearly broke the radio, one that nearly drove your friends insane.

But now, Sirius had found himself staring as he so often does, at the way you waved your hand with the breeze, the way said breeze sifted through your hair and the way you sang along with James to the very same ABBA song that’d been on repeat for the past fifteen minutes. He’d reckon your voice far better than that of the brunette behind the wheel. He doesn’t know just why he always finds himself settling his attention upon you every moment he gets the chance. Or maybe he does and just refuses to admit the reasons for it. But there was something about you, there was always something about you to be admired. You were utterly enamoring even when you’ve got your brows scrunched over something entirely because of him. They never seem to stay furrowed for long.

“If you take a picture, it just might last longer,” you suggest with a raised brow and a smile indicative of your teasing, effectively pulling him from his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, it’s just you’ve got a bug in your hair,” he counters quickly, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

Your eyes are quick to widen slightly as your hand rises to your head in mild panic, combing your fingers through your hair in a hurry. His laughter was a telltale sign of his deception, that ever so familiar frown pulling down your lips as you swat at his shoulder. “Sirius Black, you’re a pain!”

His laughter was immediate as he caught your wrist from swatting him once more, “I’m not lying! There is something in your hair.”

He releases your arm in favor of reaching upwards, the tips of his fingers pinching the delicate flower petal tangled within your hair. Your words fell silent as his fingertips traveled down to the very end of your hair, a gentle action that had your cheeks staining what must have been an obvious pink as you found yourself looking at the smile on his lips. One that was soft and lopsided, one that grew as he held up the small pink petal before tilting his head at you. You hadn’t even realized you’d been holding your breath until that moment, hadn’t realized the new found quiet had drawn everyone’s attention.

“Told you so,” he states confidently, blowing away the petal and leaving it to flutter to your feet.

You squinted at him and mimicked his words to quickly move on from dwelling on your burning cheeks, something that brought a different kind of smile to his face mere seconds before you’d ruffled his own hair in retaliation.

“I meant what I said,” you remind him, trying to fight your grin as you watch tangled strands of black hair fall back against his cheeks once more.

“I am so terribly hurt,” he scoffs, placing a hand over his heart in a display of faux offense.

In that moment you settle for shaking your head, biting the inside of your cheek in a pitiful attempt to conceal your smile. A smile so awfully contagious he found himself mirroring it, having lingered on his lips even when you’d looked away from him in favor of looking out of the window. In doing so, you missed the way James had been glancing at you both in the rear view, at the way he shared a knowing grin with Lily, who’d then done so with Remus. It was a moment missed by you both, how could it not be with the way your thoughts had entirely been about each other unbeknownst to you.

It’d been quiet after that, save for the radio and James’ occasional startling outburst of song should a part come on that he’s fond of. It’d been peaceful and upbeat as Sirius crossed his arms over his chest, trying desperately not to think of how you’d made his stomach twist and flutter with butterflies. It was nothing, that’s what he told himself.

—

The place was just as beautiful and just the same as you’d left it the previous year, the sun still beaming through tall trees and the birds still chirping just as contently as they always do. Upon closer inspection, your initials had been carved in the very same tree, untouched since the five of you had left your mark on it the very first time you found it. Of course, it’d become weathered over time, moss having flourished over the bark, but the engraved letters remain regardless of that very fact.

The fire pit that James and Sirius had made still sat in the center of it all, it’s crumbled stones and charred logs and sticks sitting in a heap within it, waiting to be lit once more. Even the logs circling around it to serve as seats had still sat untouched by anyone else, unmoved from how they were left the previous trip out there.

It was exciting to finally be back there, to finally be out of the car in a place you longed to see again. All was well, except one thing.

“That is absolutely not happening,” you state matter of factly, the twigs snapping beneath your foot as you frown at Lily before narrowing your eyes at Sirius. One look at his smile, just one look, and you return your displeased gaze to the two in question, James making no effort to stifle his laughter at the situation. “No way, that is ridiculous!”

“Lupin must have forgotten to pack a third, Y/n/n,” Lily sympathizes with the softest of frowns to accompany her words, though you hadn’t missed the grin she’d tossed her friend’s way as he scratched the back of his neck and fought his own. “I’m sorry!”

“Then I’ll sleep in the bus with Remus,” you state quickly with a raised brow, crossing your arms over your chest stubbornly as you squint at Sirius’ very obvious grumbling behind you. His reasons for doing it were entirely unknown to you.

“C’mon, Y/n. Pad’s won’t bite,” James chimes in with a laugh, earning a swat to the back of the head from Lily before he protests her actions in return, shrugging his shoulders and rubbing his head. “Not very hard, at least.”

You purse your lips at the brunette and glared, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your smile. A smile that quickly faded as you glanced over your shoulder at the little tent that hadn’t stood very tall on the other side of the fire pit. Your heart leapt and raced within your chest at the thought of being so close, lips tugging downward as you looked back at them with a huff.

“I would say I can’t believe you, but I can,” you groan, brushing past them to get to the lake before they could become aware of your smile.

—

The last traces of sunshine were warm against your skin as you sat along the water’s edge with Lily, taking a moment to yourselves away from the utter chaos that came with the trio in the water. It was still a bit too cold to swim in but that’d never stop them from doing just that. Despite the chill that ran through you from it, everything around you had been exactly how it’s always been.

Wildflowers had bloomed just about everywhere you could imagine amongst patches of green and overgrown grass, framing the lake in varying hues of blues, yellows, purples, and pinks. When you sat at just the right angle, the reflection of the sky over the water had been absolutely wondrous, painting the water orange and pink. The ongoing breeze had been sifting through the leaves in the trees, leaving some to fall to the ground in its wake.

It was absolutely perfect, and you couldn’t think of just anywhere else you’d rather be in that moment than right where you are. You wouldn’t want to be there with anyone else.

“I think this is our best trip yet,” Lily states, leaning back on her palms as she tips her head back, allowing the sun to sweep across her skin.

“I think so too,” you sigh, letting your eyes fall closed as you hear another aguamenti spell used, followed by a bout of laughter that had a smile pulling at your lips at the sound. Her absence in conversation was sure a sign something was on her mind. It always was without fail.

She hadn’t left you to sit and wonder for too long before she spoke up.

“What do you think about Sirius?” There it is.

Your eyes squeeze shut at the question you anticipated, at the one you hadn’t expected her to wait so long in asked you. A soft huff left your lips as you opened your eyes, brows furrowing as she gave you an expectant look.

“Why do you ask?” You say, the corner of your mouth quirking up at her nosiness.

She shrugs her shoulders as she sits up more, heaps of red hair falling to splay against her back. “Just wondering.”

Her smirk was more than obvious as she looked at you, her smile widening. Lily and Remus had kept an eye on you both for quite a while, they knew that something had been there, it wasn’t that hard for them to figure out. Even if you hadn’t been aware of your own foolish love yourself, they’d certainly picked up on it. Because after every witty remark and every scoff and glare, there was always a smile to follow. After every frown and and nose scrunch as one of you stuck their tongue out at the other, there was always a lingering stare just moments after. Anyone could see that, anyone but to two involved that are far too stubborn and argumentative to realize that.

“Well?” She continues.

“Well what?” You ask, pulling your knees to your chest as you look at her.

“You can’t possibly have nothing to say about him, not after all the banter you do. What do you think of him?” She repeats.

You roll your eyes as you avert your gaze from her, resting your chin on your knees as you look ahead. You mull over your words as a laugh leaves your lips, your head shaking slightly as your eyes fall upon him. He’s got strands of wet black hair stuck to his face, cheeks reddened ever so slightly from the combined heat of the summer sun and the chilliness of the water. His smile was beaming and bright as he tips his head back and laughs at something James had said.

“He’s a pain, Lily,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your smile. “He’s a pain.”

She laughed at your words, though she took note of the smile that’d been on your lips as she followed your gaze to the very one in question. She hadn’t failed to notice the smile he had returned to you after having done a double take, an action that was far less subtle than he’d hoped. He couldn’t help it though. Not with the way you’ve got flowers tucked in your hair and the way the sunshine made you glow. But when he found himself looking for what he felt was far too long he’d stuck his tongue out at you, wiggling his fingers before you rolled your eyes.

“Oh really?” She inquires, her smile evident in her voice, laughing when you narrow your eyes only briefly.

You pluck a flower from the ground and hold it under your nose for a moment, twirling its stem as it sat pinched between your fingers. You shook your head once more.

“Yes, really.”

—

The tent was rather average, having danced dangerously on the edge being too small. Every gust of wind, no matter how gentle, had puffed against its very walls, rattling the zippers and the flap of the door until you’d finally closed it completely. You knew for a fact your friends had to have done this on purpose, at this point there was no way they couldn’t have judged by the smiles they’d done a terrible job at hiding.

It was becoming increasingly obvious when you sat around the campfire that evening when Lily sat with James, and when Remus managed to take up the entirety of the log he’d claimed his own. It left you no other option than to sit next to Sirius, his chin in his palm as he hid his taunting smile behind his fingers.

You could tell by the way their gaze fell upon the two of you more often than not, and by the way James had displayed his emotions a little too obviously each and every time Lily had whispered something undoubtedly about the two of you in his ear. By the very way that no matter how much your group of friends could talk and bounce from topic to topic with ease, the conversation would always, without fail wind up circling back to the two of you. You were becoming painfully aware of the plan made by none other than Lily and Remus.

You should have known they’d do something like this; they’ve done it at the spring ball in sixth year. It was the very first time Hogwarts had done something like that, it was magnificent. However, you thought your date had stood you up as you sat with Lily and Remus, the mysterious date they’d set you up with. Said date had finally showed up by the side of James, and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head upon realizing just who they’d set you up with. You’d frowned as you danced with him, accompanied by a few laughs when he twirled you, accompanied by a few eye rolls when he said something witty. The night had been far better than it started, but you hadn’t spoken of it since.

They’d done it at Hogsmeade. They’d told everyone to meet at the Three Broomsticks, having diligently reminded everyone to do so. You and Sirius had been the first ones there, having sat awkwardly across from each other as you sipped your butterbeer. It was quiet until the two of you began to bicker over something too trivial to remember, one smiling when the other wasn’t looking. It took about thirty minutes for you to realize that the rest of the group hadn’t been coming, thirty minutes with Sirius Black.

So yes, you should have known better than to think that they wouldn’t do something like this again.

“Sirius?” His only response is a hum in that moment, a rather dismal one at that. “How do you suppose I’ll get any sleep if you keep huffing and puffing? It’s rather hard to ignore, you know.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” he quips, though you could hear the very smile in his words even without seeing him.

You shake your head at that with a huff of your own, but he could see the shake of your shoulders from your stifled laughter that you had fought so hard to keep at bay. No, he most certainly could not know that he’d been making you laugh, that would be absolutely terrible to your cause for he wouldn’t forget that he’d been able to do something other than make you grumble.

It was quiet for a few moments after that, nothing but the crickets singing just outside the little tent and the whisper of the wind in the trees. He hadn’t huffed anymore after that, and you quickly came to realize that it was in fact not the cause of your restlessness, though a part of you already knew that. You knew as you lay in that tent that you hadn’t hated his company, not in the slightest as much as your protests would beg to differ otherwise on the matter.

“Would you really rather spend the night with him than me right now? Remus?” He asks quietly, curious after a little while, and you didn’t miss the small bit of offense in his tone. It was the most subtle of indicators that he’d been jealous. Not terribly so, but it was enough to have your words stick in his mind for a few lingering moments longer than it should. He found himself to be just a little offended, because while he hadn’t expected this to be the sleeping arrangements, he’d hoped maybe you wouldn’t dread it as much as you seemed to have.

“In this particular moment, yes,” you quip softly, a smile beginning to tug at the corners of your mouth when you hear his displeased huff. “I might even sleep outside with the bears should you continue being jealous.”

“That is not happening,” he says, quick to add more once he realizes just what you’ve said. “And I am not jealous.”

As much as you two may have bickered near incessantly, as much as it may have seemed as though you couldn’t stand each other, he didn’t want you to do such a thing. It was dangerous after all. He knows a flimsy tent would do little to protect you, he knows you’re more than capable with magic, but he’d much rather prefer you weren’t out of his sight. It was safer that way.

“Who’s to say?”

Your back remains to him as you close your eyes briefly, your grin having gone unseen. It’d always been your personal mission to get under his skin ever since he was just a boy who had made it a point to get under yours, and now that he was nearly twenty your goals were no different. Maybe they weren’t as childish and filled with a certain annoyance as they once had been in the very beginning, but the habit was still very much there.

“Y/n/n, could you be serious just once in your life?” He asks.

“You know,” you start, rolling over to lay on your other side. Your breath hitched upon realizing your closeness, his face mere inches from your own and you nearly lose your train of thought as he’d done the same. But you quickly gathered yourself as you swallowed thickly, a smile gracing your lips. “I don’t believe I could if I tried.”

He rolled his eyes as he moved to lay in his back once more, his smile bright as his hair splays across his pillow and you follow suit. Your heart had still been beating wildly in your chest at the closeness you’d shared just seconds earlier, cheeks flushed a soft shade of crimson as you dare not look over at him. He supposed he’s grateful for that because he’s too caught up in looking at you, that same smile on his lips that he knows shouldn’t be there. One look at him and you’d have days, even weeks worth of material to tease him with. But he can’t help it.

He also can’t help it when he laughs, his eyes squeezing shut. “What is it?”

He shakes his head as he continues, your own curious smile forming in your lips as you turn your head and look at him. “I’ve got that bloody ABBA song stuck in my head.”

Your smile widens and a giggle falls past your lips as you return your gaze to the sky, the mingled laughter between the two of you having been something not uncommon as of late. “Well I’ve got that dreaded AC/DC song stuck in mine.”

“It is not dreaded, it’s a classic,” he defends, scoffing lightly as a lingering chuckle accompanies his words.

“And so is mine,” you counter, just as much defense in your voice as he held in his.

“That is absolutely false.”

“It is absolutely not.”

He responded with a heaving sigh, a smile on his lips despite it but he let you win the argument this time because surely there would be more. There would always be more when the two of you were together, but he feels as though he can hardly count on one hand the amount of times you had argued over something serious.

Your shared laughter had since died down to silence amongst everything else, leaving you know choice but to think of how close the two of you were. To think of the fact that never in a million years did you believe you’d ever share a tent with each other. You will admit, only to yourself, that you hadn’t hated it as much as he may have thought. A part of you had found yourself thinking that maybe you’d even miss him had you not been less than a foot away. You thought that a lot lately, unbeknownst to everyone else, or so you thought.

It was then, as you lay beneath the stars in a tent you’d felt was far too small to house two, that you felt his knuckles brush against your own, the very tips of his fingers soon to follow it. The simple touch felt far more electrifying than you had cared to admit to, especially for a simple accident caused from the sheer closeness of your proximity. To be quite honest, you felt rather foolish with the way your heart had skipped a beat and fluttered relentlessly within your chest.

And it was then that you risk a glance to your left the same way he had risked one to his right, eyes meeting in a gaze that’d been shared for the very same reason. You both looked away from the other almost immediately, smiles pulling at your lips as you focus your attention on the sky. No attempts had been made to move.

“Something funny, Y/n/n?” He asks, humor in his tone that only made you smile more than you felt you should have been.

“Yeah,” you start, a soft laugh leaving your lips as your eyes flutter closed. “Are you desperate to hold my hand?”

The laughter he exhaled was immediate at your words, but not out of mocking. “Love, if I wanted to hold your hand I wouldn’t waste my time brushing my fingers over yours.”

That most certainly was a lie, it was absolutely false. As brave as Sirius Black can be, as bold as he always was, he was nervous to hold your hand. He felt as though he was tempting fate already by the mere nudge of his hand over yours. To him, the thought of being in love was both exhilarating and terrifying all the same. To care deeply for someone was in his nature despite his hardships, though he’ll never ever admit it aloud. He didn’t need to.

Sirius could and would risk his life for his friends without a drop of hesitation, he always would. But the idea of slipping his hand in yours, of telling you just how he felt—it was a feat that proved to be difficult. You, you were terrifyingly wonderful and breathtakingly beautiful. You always have a quip to counter his wit, and you would never hesitate to cast a harmless jinx upon him.

He hadn’t realized just how much he wanted to tell you until that very moment, that very day for that matter. With the way you sung that song he swears he dreads every time it plays on the radio. With the way you smiled at him, your cheeks stained a rosy pink when you told him he was a pain. Or the way you’d been beaming as you tucked flowers in your hair with Lily by the lake. He hasn’t known how he made it quite this far without telling you, it was beyond him how he did it.

You weren’t just the girl he’d bicker lightheartedly with on a daily basis over the most trivial of things, always ending in scoffs and eye rolls and narrowed gazes that were more humorous than intended. You weren’t just the one who’d turn his hair every shade of the rainbow given the chance, who could outdo him on the scale of stubborn bravery. You were the girl he found himself following wherever you went, who he found himself thinking of far more often than he told himself he should.

He’s pulled from his thoughts at your soft laughter, turning to lay on his side once more. Before he could ask the reasoning behind it you’d already reached up, your fingers brushing through his hair to grab the lone petal tucked pretty and yellow amongst the strands of black. His gaze never left you, gray and admiring as you tucked his hair behind his ear, the tips of your fingers lingering for just a moment before you pulled them away.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile, his breath fanning warmly over your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

The question was soft yet confident, having had enough of the question merely sitting at the edge of his tongue for days, weeks, months on end. It’d made your heart skip a beat, and you were nearly unsure if you’d heard him correctly. Because Sirius Black, the boy who’d never failed to get under your skin, who never failed to make you roll your eyes or purse your lips, the one you’d seemingly loved all along was asking to kiss you.

The grin on your lips was nothing short of an indication that your words would be that of something jesting. “It depends.”

“Do tell, on what?” He inquires, the glow of the moon illuminating the mischief dancing in your eyes.

You moved to prop yourself up on your elbow, your grin widening a fraction the more you look at him. “Just how long has it been that you’ve wanted to ask me that?”

“Who’s to say I’ve ever given it thought before this very moment?” He counters, though he knows he has a million times. You roll your eyes then, tipping your head back only momentarily before looking at him again.

“Could you be serious just once in your life?” You ask, copying his earlier words.

“I don’t believe I could if I tried.”

You shook your head as your hand settled on his cheek, quieting his further mocking as you pressed your lips on his. His laughter sounded softly against your lips, soon dissolving in favor of finally kissing you, of finally doing just what he’d longed to do for an amount of time he’s far too prideful to admit. He found himself smiling when your hair brushed against his skin, at the feel of your nose nudging his own and your fingertips just barely tangling in his hair.

His hand came up to rest over your own, the action soft and distracted as you parted from him only briefly. Brief enough for you to smile against his lips, for your giddy laughter to puff softly against his skin. Fleeting before he kissed you again—once, twice, three times more.

You pulled away completely then, his hand falling from yours as you swipe the pad of your thumb across the dimple in his chin, your cheeks flushed and his lips kiss swollen and pink. He followed after you for just one more, gray eyes sparkling and smile blissful as you lay back on your side.

“I love you,” he murmurs, “bloody hell I do.”

“Sirius Black,” you say, taking your lip between your teeth as you looked at him. “I love you too.”

With that he tugged your hand gently, pulling you back to his lips in a soft yet lingering kiss, one that made your heart pound and another bout of butterflies to flutter in your stomach as he held your hand to his chest. He’d waited too long to ask you just that, wasted too much time bickering over this, that, and the next thing.

“Our friends will never let us hear the end of this, you know,” he murmurs, forehead resting on yours. “They’ll go on for weeks, love.”

“Let them.”

—

Tags: @vogueweasley @ch0colatefr0gs @anchoeritic @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @writeroutoftime

#sirius black #sirius black oneshot #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fic #sirius black imagine

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thatfanficstuff · 3 years ago

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Impossible - Chapter 24

Pairing: Eric Northman x Reader + Godric

Warnings: description of death

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I had a flareup and haven't written in like three weeks. Everything I've been posting was pre-written. We're nearing the end.

***

Your visit to Sophie-Anne two days later was unannounced. Your father led the small group consisting of yourself, Eric and the Magister through the grounds, dismissing Sophie’s guards as he went. His own men trailed behind you silently taking their places to secure the property.

As usual, Sophie was found lounging in what she called her day room. Your father glanced around and arched a brow. Obviously he found it a bit much. You agreed completely.

“A bit ostentatious for one so deeply in debt. Wouldn’t you agree, Magister?” Roman asked, sounding bored.

“Absolutely, sir.”

Sophie, who up until this point, was ignoring all of you, was on her feet in a flash. Her gaze darted to you and Eric briefly before focusing on the other two men again. “Hailey, leave us,” she said to the blonde that had been lounging beside her. Hailey was Sookie’s cousin and didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut. It was how your friend had ended up on Sophie-Anne’s radar to begin with.

Once her lover had left, the queen put her attention back on your group. “Magister, I wasn’t expecting you. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Try as she might, the queen couldn’t keep that tremor of worry from her tone. That alone conveyed her youth. Frankly, you weren’t certain how she’d come to the position in the first place. Politics.

Alonso scoffed as he smirked. “I believe we can all agree it is rarely a pleasure when I become involved, your majesty.”

Her smile dropped before instantly finding its way back to her face. “And who is this with you?”

Now your father smirked as well. “Just call me an interested party.”

You rolled your eyes and elbowed Eric in the ribs when he huffed a surprised laugh at your father’s words. The noise caught Sophie-Anne’s attention and she glared at your mate. You fought the immediate urge to smack her. As if sensing your irritation, Eric grabbed your hand in his. If nothing else, his touch grounded you.

Her eyes flicked down to your joined hands and you would have sworn she turned just a bit paler. Sophie-Anne knew who you were and knew you used to work for the Authority. Now, here you were holding hands with the person that had knowledge that could bury her. She wasn’t a stupid woman, she knew where this was heading. That didn’t stop her from trying to talk her way out of trouble.

“I’m not quite sure what is going on here, Magister, but I assure you if any of my subjects have stepped out of line and fabricated some treasonous lie in an attempt to cast doubt on my loyalties, I am more than capable of punishing them without the Authority’s interference.”

“Not your subject and not a lie,” you piped up.

Alonso stepped forward, one hand in the pocket of his immaculate suit. “You have been accused of conspiring to sell the sacred blood for your personal gain. How do you plea?”

As Alonso took another step, Sophie stepped backward. “Not guilty of course. I would never do anything so heinous.”

Roman scowled. “Ordering your subjects to do it on your behalf doesn’t absolve you of your culpability.”

“What-what did she tell you?” Sophie stuttered as she took another step back. “It’s not true. Any of it.”

“How would you know if you aren’t aware of what has been said?” the Magister asked, a smirk curling his lips.

She held out a hand as if that would protect her from the judgement coming her way. “Now, just a minute.” Her eyes found you. “What is this? I trusted you. Why are you doing this? You don’t even work for them anymore.”

“Because it’s shit, Sophie. You’re trying to set him up to take the fall when this inevitably goes horribly wrong. If you were the leader you were supposed to be, you would have at least cut out the middle man. Taken some responsibility for your own actions. But that’s never been your strong suit, has it?” As much as you liked Sophie-Anne, she had some serious faults as a queen.

The Authority had been aware of her failings, but until this point, they’d been able to look the other way to keep from stirring things up where they didn’t have to. Despite all appearances to the contrary, the Authority was very into maintaining the status quo when possible.

Not getting the response she wanted from you, she looked at Eric. “And you? This is treason.”

“Speaking of concerns with my mate is not treasonous. It was she who reported you to the Authority. My apologies, my queen.” He sounded so sincere but he wore that familiar smirk as he lifted your hand to kiss the back of it. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Barely.

“Enough,” your father interrupted the conversation, clearly bored with the theatrics. “Magister?”

“Sophie-Anne Leclerq, you have been found guilty of the charge against you. The penalty is the true death.” He flicked his fingers and Eric stepped forward to carry out the sentence.

“Wait!” Sophie yelled.

Alonso held up his hand to bring your mate to a halt. “What is it?”

“I demand a rehearing. I want a hearing in front of the Authority.”

You arched a brow. You weren’t certain anyone had ever tried that before. But she was a queen, so if anyone was going to try it, it was fitting that it was her.

“You are aware that I am the voice of the Authority in matters such as this?” the Magister asked with a quick glance to your father. “However, given your status, the request is not unreasonable.”

Elation flickered across Sophie-Anne’s face. It lasted about two minutes before your father spoke.

“The Authority has heard your case and affirms the Magister’s decision. Sorry, Ms. Leclerq, but there are sins that even the worst of us can’t overlook.” He straightened the cuffs of his suit as he stared at the queen as if she was a bug beneath his shoe.

“Who are you?” Sophie asked.

“I am the Guardian,” he answered with an arched brow. He glanced at Eric and gestured to the queen. “Mr. Northman, if you would.”

Sophie-Anne shook her head and backed away but Eric was on her in a flash. She attempted to fight but he took her down easily, forcing her onto her stomach. He placed a foot on her back to hold her down while he grasped her head in his hands and yanked upward. A second later and Eric was dropping the late queen’s decapitated head on ground as she dissolved beneath him.

You’d stayed behind your father and Alonso so they were between you and the mess but you still stepped backward. Vampire deaths were so disgusting. “Well done, Mr. Northman. You’ll forgive me if I don’t offer you a ride back to your home,” your father said and you frowned. Yes, Eric could get himself home, but it still annoyed you. Of course, he hadn’t bothered to mention his plan for your mate to play executioner until you were almost there so you hadn’t brought anything for Eric to change into even if he cleaned himself up.

“Understandable, sir. I’ll meet you there.” He may have been talking to your father but he was looking at you. He was letting you know it wasn’t worth the fight. You ran your eyes over his blood-soaked form and gave him a nod. He’d make it home before the three of you anyway.

Roman took your arm in his hand and steered you to the exit. His steps were long and quick until he was practically dragging you behind him. You scowled and pulled against him but he didn’t slow down. Finally, you planted your feet and jerked your arm. He stumbled to a stop and turned to frown at you.

“Why the hell are you in such a hurry? Is there something I should know?” Your gaze shifted between him and Alonso. The latter looked amused as his lips twitched. Your father closed his eyes and sighed.

“I’m sorry. There’s just a phone call that I need to make as soon as possible. Why don’t you and Alonso take the car back? I’ll ride with some of the men.” He didn’t wait for a response before disappearing into the dark.

You licked your lips and shook your head before glaring at your friend. “And just what do you think is so funny?”

He chuckled and held up his hands in surrender. “I was wondering how long you were going to let him drag you along until you said something.”

“You have any idea what that call’s about?” you asked. Roman was up to something.

“Not a clue, sweetheart.”

#eric northman x reader x godric #eric northman x reader #true blood fanfiction #eric northman fanfiction #godric fanfiction #eric northman x you #series #impossible

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uniquevocashark · 4 years ago

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A Good Servant Part 5

Content Warnings for:

graphic descriptions of gore, blood, murder, threats of murder, lady dimitrescu and her daughters eating people, threats of violence, assault, bodily harm, grievous bodily harm, blood baths, implications of murder, mentions of experimentation (very brief), mentions of manipulation, mentions of excessive eating, mental fuckery done by the protagonist

THis monster is 11 PAGES ON WORD DOCS, AHHHHHHHHHHHH

You cast a look at Daniela, who sneers at Vanessa with more venom than a viper. Vanessa’s hands raise up and she backs away from you, the cut on her neck shallower than you expected. Daniela pushed her sickled down harder until Vanessa was forced backwards, several meters away, then dashed back in front of you. She left her sickle loose in her hand, then flashed an imitation of Cassandra’s smile.

“Why did you touch our things?” She repeated, the joy leaking back into her voice. She turned her wrist slightly and her sickle caught the light brilliantly, a clear demonstration of an agonising amount of time and effort spent polishing it.

“Your ‘things’?” Vanessa said and you would have intervened if a bug hadn’t flown into your mouth.

Another crawled along your collarbone and down your hands and when you looked found that they had red eyes rather than green. Miss Bela bit down on your tongue gently when your mouth twitched into a frown and you smoothed your expression before Daniela noticed.

She grabbed your choker and yanked you forward along with it, displaying the Dimitrescu crest that usually sat proudly cradled against your throat, “This isn’t just decoration, you stupid man-thing. They belong to House Dimitrescu.”

“They don’t.”

“She does!”

“We,” Vanessa said, winking at you over Daniela’s shoulder, “Work for Mother Miranda.”

“But she doesn’t love Mother Miranda,” Daniela pouted, so caught up in stamping her foot that she yanked you even closer, “She loves us. And you aren’t allowed to touch what I love!”

Vanessa raised her brow, and you shot her a glare. Gently, you placed a hand on Daniela’s, and she looked at you moon-eyed after Bela had flown out of your bleeding mouth. “It’s alright, Daniela.” You said softly, rubbing her taut knuckles.

“It is not alright,” She insisted, then released your choker to grab your arm tightly. “Only House Dimitrescu can touch you.”

“I’m aware,” You said, and pushed her hand away, “Now, I must settle Vanessa in, Miss.”

“Fine.” She pouted, much like her mother, and disappeared in a haze of bugs. Another bug, with a bulkier wing set and yellow eyes bit your finger before fleeing as well. You brushed off the blood on your apron and shot a glare at Vanessa. The cut, you noted, had already disappeared. Mother Miranda must of improved how quickly she could regenerate.

“What?”

“’What’.” You mocked, averting your eyes.

“I am right,” Vanessa said, clutching her chest like a Victorian lady in need of a fainting couch, “We, technically, belong to Miranda. Not her adopted anger issues.”

You rolled your eyes and wiped the smears of blood of the walls that Daniela had made in her haste to get between the two of you. “Whether or not you are factually correct is irrelevant.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am,” You said tiredly, “Part of my very serious job is keeping the girls happy because it’s more important than the semantics of my situation.”

“It’s more than just semantics,” Vanessa insisted, “You’re lying to them.”

You sighed, “It would hurt them too much.”

“You’ve gone soft.” Vanessa bumped your shoulders together and smiled that smug grin you could never forget.

You crossed your arms and bumped her back. “Shut up.”

…

“Stop complaining for two seconds, would you?” You said, holding the door open for her.

Vanessa shrugged, leaning over you instead, “Who said I was complaining?”

“Go in the room.”

“I’m supposed to observe you.”

“And I need to attend to Lady Dimitrescu, now in.” You nudged her towards the room, and she stumbled more than she should have.

The room was small but warm. It was set next to your own and had been empty for as long as you had been there, so you had hijacked it for personal use until then. Lady Dimitrescu had given the room to Vanessa for the duration of her stay and, while you were attached to it, you cleared your extra things and remade it for her.

Vanessa, on the other hand, didn’t appreciate the spartan room all that much. She didn’t seem to like the lack of windows, or how dry everything was. You frowned at her for that.

“You should be used to this kind of living.” You said.

Vanessa sat down at the desk and propped her legs on the desk. “Maybe I got used to luxury.”

“Yes, Mother Miranda’s operating table is so clearly the height of ostentatious luxury.”

She laughed, then covered her mouth a moment later.

“Get comfortable,” You said after a moment, “I’ll be back later.”

“Do you have to help her?” Vanessa asked.

“I work for her.”

“You also kiss her ass when she isn’t around.”

You frowned, “I do not.”

“You do,” Vanessa cooed, “Every conversation you manage to sneak her in. Lady Dimitrescu this and Lady Dimitrescu that.”

“Not this again.”

You rubbed one of your temples. Vanessa shrugged from her seated position, her eyes barely moving from you. “She isn’t even here.”

“I’m not entertaining this,” You said flatly, “Stay in here, I’ll be back by the end of the day.”

“Define ‘end of the day’.” She said, picking up the axe you kept under the bed.

“Before dinner.”

“Okay.” You heard her say before you shut the door.

You walked halfway down the hallway then turned to look back at her door. It was closed, the corridor was well lit and warm and the noise of the kitchen from further down was the only thing you could hear. The only difference from yesterday was a thick black line that marked one side of the walls.

…

Lady Dimitrescu’s rooms were emptier without her pet, something that you always noted when she lost one. The extra bedding was gone, the extra candles, the smaller set of care products that she usually kept and the trunk for clothing. It almost looked too stark, and you could almost understand her obsession with always keeping a pet.

“Madame.” You greeted and she blew a stream of smoke at her own reflection.

“Wesker,” Lady Dimitrescu murmured, removing her gloves, “Is the bath ready?”

“Yes, Madame.”

“Good.”

She didn’t move from her spot, slowly removing one glove at a time.

Her vanity mirror was covered in a viscous substance that drooled down onto the mahogany

“Come here.” She said softly, extending one hand towards you without turning to look at you. Her hand gleamed grey in the darkness and you were halfway to her before you realised you had moved. She planted the hand on your shoulder and untied the choker around your neck.

Her mouth was dark with blood, spilling into a cascade down her dress. What you assumed was the remains of Mihaela, a few bones, a dark patch of blood and intestines strewn neatly on the floor, sat at her feet. She caressed your cheek and brought you closer to her. You flinched and she smiled, her eyes burning gold, leaning over to capture your other cheek.

“What’s the matter?” She murmured, pulling you tight against her, smearing blood over your face and chest, “Are you afraid of me?”

You sucked in a breath that reeked like open bowels, “What is going on?”

She tilted her head slightly, and her mouth split too widely when she smiled, through her cheek and near her ear. She opened her mouth and her cheeks split open, her long black tongue pouring out of the side to lick blood off her jawline.

You moved your head away gently and she moved, licking your face from chin to forehead to clean away the blood she had left. She cradled you in her lap, dragging her lips over your forehead then her teeth and you stared at her blood covered neck quietly.

“Who did you use for the bathtub?”

You cleared your throat, “The chambermaids, Madame.”

She licked one of her fangs, “How many?”

“Fifty-four.”

She growled, moving to hold your waist and hug you to her chest. Lady Dimitrescu licked the blood from your cheek, her tongue as rough as a tiger, then rested her chin on the top of your head. You weren’t sure how to move; when you moved even slowly, she tensed, and she would periodically hum before she licked your face. It did not help much that her tongue scraped the flesh from your face and that she took obvious pleasure with each scrap she took from you.

Her face slowly sewed itself back together, but it was not a painless or soundless process. You watched her face, the cheek slowly come together, veins re-establishing before being filled over with flesh that reddened as soon as it grew. Her tongue grew softer, and she was no longer slurping down your flesh to fill her stomach.

“Bring up a few of the serving staff, I’m in desperate need of a good bath.” She said but didn’t let you go. You cautiously push her face away, and she nibbled at your fingertips softly. She was staring at you, her pupils wide and eyes hungry.

“Would you prefer the pastry chefs or the line cooks, Madame?”

She smiled, and it was normal, though her lipstick was smeared down her chin, “The line cooks should suffice.” She said and licked your bloodied cheeks clean.

…

You prided yourself on many things, because you were good at many things, but avoiding the suddenly clingy Dimitrescu family was nearly beyond your capabilities. The girls you could at least avoid for most of the morning, as they were always busy with one thing or another, but Lady Dimitrescu took every opportunity to have you with her as long as possible. It seemed not a minute could go by, even if you were cleaning her room, that she didn’t have a hand on you. By thirty past ten that morning, she had already called you five more times than she usually did.

When you could get away from her, and the endless workload she had decided to gift you after eating Mihaela, her daughters were there instead. Even dragging yourself through the dungeons and moving past the ghouls, one of them would find and attach themselves to you. And the first to find you as she always was, Daniela would appear and grip your sleeve or hold your hand in greeting.

She always bounced between anxious and forward when she wanted to start a conversation, not that you minded. She was, you thought, a reflection of what you were like when you were younger but made of flies. She was also hyper conscious of how she acted when the staff were around you, which you appreciated even if the extra effort was unnecessary.

“Are you thinking of leaving us?” She asked, sitting three steps down from you on the ladder you stood on.

“Thinking?” You paused, “Something like that.”

She wrapped her arm around your shins and looked up to you, her insects buzzing reminiscent of a cat’s purr, “Yes, or no?”

You stopped wiping at the thick black stain for a moment, “A bit of both.”

“That isn’t really an answer.”

“It’s more complex than yes or no,” You continued, rubbing at the stubborn spot with more force, “And try not to sound so unsure, it lessens the stern attitude you’re aiming for.”

“Okay,” She said, resting her cheek against your calf, “Can you explain the complex reasons?”

You rung out your rag, dipped it in water and tried to wipe the stain away again. You did so again, and Daniela watched you with a growing pout. “Please?” Daniela continued, kicking her feet into the air, “Don’t you love me enough to tell me?”

“There is no need to resort to emotional manipulation,” You countered, and pointed at the brush you needed, “Practice your sternness again.”

She cleared her throat while she handed you the brush, and her tone went serious, “You manipulate people too.”

“For complex reasons, and never about love,” You said lightly, patting her hair carefully and watching her smile bloom across her face, “I don’t really have a say in whether I leave or not, Daniela. If I must go, I go.”

Daniela dug her nails into your skin, but you didn’t mind it much. She held you a little tighter against her and frowned down at the floor. “I don’t understand, she gave you to us. So, you’re ours.”

“It doesn’t always work that way, Daniela,” She nodded but looked unconvinced, “Don’t frown so severely, it makes you look upset rather than stern but that was perfect vocal control.”

“Thank you.” She said but you could see that she was still lost in thought. She touched her necklace gently and toyed with one of swords, staring at you more severely than she usually did.

You looked out of the window you had just cleaned, to the sun shining down on the village and smoothed her hair down the side of her face again. “The day is rather fair, Daniela. You should ask your mother for a horse-riding lesson.”

She perked up, looking outside the window herself. “That sounds like fun.”

She hopped off the ladder and you followed her. The stain on the window had left your water black as ink and you still needed to finish the rest of the windows in the corridor before lunch, so you said your goodbyes to her. Daniela kissed your cheek and transformed into a swarm of bugs before you could react, already gone by the time you had registered the kiss.

She had always been more affectionate than her sisters, so you could almost excuse the sudden change in farewell. Out of all of the Dimitrescu, she was the one who liked you enough to want to be physically affectionate. You knew she had started doing it out of jealousy, though, ever since Vanessa had gotten too close to you than she liked.

After Daniela had disappeared and after a late lunch, around two thirty in the evening, Bela would find you as you left the kitchen.

Bela spoke the most and had mastered that stern tone that Daniela only practiced around you when they were too busy to find her. Her bugs had brilliant red eyes and settled along your collarbone with growing numbers each time she saw you. Now she kept a few bugs on you regardless of the time and you had woken to them buzzing above your head for the past three days.

“Thank you for recommending that exhilarating horse ride.” Bela greeted sarcastically.

“Miss Daniela wanted something to do.” You replied simply.

“Daniela has her books if she’s bored.”

“Miss Daniela has had trouble with riding for the past three years, it was an opportune time for her to ask.”

Bela walked closer to you than she usually would, and though she looked at your arm she didn’t take it. “Are you leaving?”

“What gave you that idea?” You replied flippantly.

“Are you planning to leave?”

“I can’t say.”

“Were you ever going to tell us?”

You didn’t meet her eyes.

Bela grabbed your elbow and made you face her, “Were you going to tell Daniela, at least?”

You pulled your elbow free from her grasp.

“I see,” She said severely, in perfect imitation of her mother, “Does Mother know?”

“She does.”

Bela frowned then let you go and then, softly. “She does?”

“I told her the day before last.”

Bela continued walking with you for a few minutes then turned to you as you were polishing a bust. “I need to talk with Mother about these secrets,” She spat the word out, “Don’t say anything to my sisters.”

Then she was disappeared in a swarm, and you were left with a group of flies clambering along the crest nestled along your throat.

…

Cassandra was never much of a conversationalist, focused more on her latest project that was undoubtedly a present for her mother than you. She had most strongly inherited her mother’s disposition towards people. She didn’t consider you a person, for example, more like a walking meal with the potential to be a person. Any opinions you expressed weren’t headed very much; it seemed to be a particular trait of the Dimitrescu family. It didn’t stop her from hooking an arm around yours after breakfast and not leaving you alone for the rest of the day.

Unlike her sisters, she kept a silent vigil over you, only speaking to shoo Vanessa away when she tried to get close to you. It wasn’t until just before dinner, when you were trying in vain to get your staff organised while Cassandra loomed over them with her sickle bared, that she started talking to you.

“You upset Bela yesterday.” She said.

You sent three maids back into the kitchen for messing up the placement of the cutlery, “Yes, I am aware.”

“What did you say?”

You paused, and the remaining maids looked at you and each other uneasily. They slowed down and you snapped at them to adhere to proper form.

“Well?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from pursing your lips when you turned back to face her, “You’ll have to ask Miss Bela.”

Cassandra forced her sickle against your throat, where your neck met your head and cornered you against the unfinished table. “If you hurt my sister on purpose, I am going to gut you no matter what Bela or Mother says.”

You pushed her sickle away from your neck. “Then you should aim your sickle at my gut and not my neck, Miss Cassandra.”

Cassandra chuckled throatily and moved away from you. She smiled and thumbed the point of her sickle with a smile, wiping the edge you had touched almost wistfully. She gave a flourished goodbye, waving her sickle happily and walking into the main hall.

…

Vanessa took up the rest of your time before dinner, still seating pleasantly at the desk in the same position you had left her. She grinned at you and sat up properly.

“Hey there, stranger.”

You gave her a look.

“You’re not looking so good,” Vanessa said, coming over and gently rubbing the scrapes along your cheeks, “Are you doing okay?”

“You know what’s strange?” You said instead.

“What?”

“I don’t feel anything. I’m not even sore and I’ve been talking all day.”

You moved into her room and sat down on her bed, gripping the mattress and letting out a long sigh. The black stains that had been plaguing you all day were also here, you noticed. Vanessa came over to you, sitting down and wiping your cheeks with a wet cloth. You hissed at the cold and she stopped, uneasy.

“It’s fine.” You said and pushed her hand away. The cloth was black with blood.

“It isn’t.” She insisted.

“It’s just a little blood.” You murmured and collapsed onto her pillows.

She lay next to you, dabbing against the scrapes on your face. She looked worried so you let her clean away the blood while your face knitted itself back together. She sat you up gently and poured you a glass of water, not leaving you alone until you had three glasses. When the bell rang you wobbled upright, and she looked almost ready to dive to catch you.

“Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”

“Will you make it that far?”

You waved her off, “Follow me if you must.”

“That would be for the best.”

You frowned, unnerved by her complete lack of blinking, “I suppose.”

…

Lady Dimitrescu was fully dressed by dinner, with her makeup freshly reapplied and her dress clean of any stains. It was one of her newer dresses, red as the wine she drank with buttons that were white around her wrists and down her back. Her hair was still wet and was kept in a bun instead her usual bob, tightly held at the side of her neck.

You dabbed at the loose droplets of blood that trailed down her neck after she sat down, and she bent her head away from you to give you ample room. It exposed the entirety of her neck to the light, and it glowed warmly in the candlelight. Vanessa slurped on her wine a little louder than usual and you frowned at her.

Lady Dimitrescu ignored the flagrant misuse of manners and turned to the cooked liver and sliced heart she was served that evening. If you were not mistaken, three bodies went into her meal, from the sauce made of blood wine, the thick liver from Rachel’s husband and Rachel’s heart. Vanessa looked comparatively smaller, nibbling on her veal and carrots drowning in gravy. It was comical to see such a normal dinner served at the Dimitrescu table and you smiled.

Daniela noticed immediately and dropped her knife on the ground.

“Whoops,” She said when you walked over and picked it up and pulled a new one from your pockets. “Thank you.” She smiled.

Lady Dimitrescu sipped her wine, “Be careful, my dear.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Bela was much quieter than she usually was, not jibing Cassandra for eating without a fork or rolling her eyes at Daniela for being so obvious. Her eyes were fixed intently on Vanessa and barely strayed while her hands dissolved into bugs and ate her meal for her.

“Tell me, Vanessa,” Lady Dimitrescu began, drawing all eyes towards her, “How are you enjoying my castle?”

Vanessa swallowed the half-eaten potato she had in her mouth, “I haven’t seen much of it.”

“Oh? Not one to explore, are we?”

She looked at you, “I was advised against exploring.”

Lady Dimitrescu put a hand to her chest, the other planting itself on your shoulder and smiled magnificently, “I assure you, me and my daughters don’t bite. You are free to explore to your hearts content.”

Vanessa leaned back into her chair, “Thank you, I think.”

Lady Dimitrescu laughed and turned her smile on you, well pleased with herself. Her eyelids drooped for a moment and her smile went softer, “My dear Wesker will always be busy, of course, but my daughters do so love entertaining foreigners like yourself.”

You cleared your throat and she hummed then turned to Vanessa and returned to their last conversation. It was a clunky transition, one that she wouldn’t have made without reason, and you moved back to where your staff were. Their numbers were halved, the others the dinner on the girls plates, and you were left with only the best of the bunch. The perfect additives, the Lady called them, fit for her most expensive of wines.

You were glad to see that two more were worthy than the last round of cattle.

But that was out of your hands now. Lady Dimitrescu had ensnared Vanessa with a menagerie of questions that had clearly been building since their last conversation and you found many of your secrets were gouged with extensive glee.

Within the hour Daniela had eaten through an entire cake and was on to her second, while Cassandra had disappeared once again, kissing her mothers’ cheek as she left. Lady Dimitrescu’s menagerie had expanded to a national park of questions, and she spoke on and on without seeming to pause. Vanessa would finish answer one and have a dozen more posed within the next minute and she was ruddy faced and out of breath from talking so much.

Bela nibbled at her own slice of cake, strawberry and lemon tonight, looking so intensely at Vanessa you thought her eyes would merge. She listened too, more seriously than her sister did, and you could practically see her drinking in every detail of the conversation with interest. She looked at you a few times, for wine or in surprise, and at one point leaned over to murmur yikes after one particularly child unfriendly story.

You remained out of the interrogation, refusing to answer any question outright. That was how the Lady got in, she asked one innocuous question and then bombarded you with a million more until she was satisfied. Vanessa, it seems, hadn’t learned her lesson after the first time and fell for it faster than a plane landing on an airstrip.

Lady Dimitrescu laughed at one point, eyeing you, “Did you really?”

“I have no recollection of what she’s saying, Madame.”

“Surely you must, it sounds so outlandish,” She licked the wine from her lips, and you dabbed away the spit. “Unless you two are playing games with me.”

“No, Madame,” You said innocently, “We aren’t.”

She smiled, “Is that so?”

“It is, Madame.” You said and began clearing the table.

…

The morning after, you and Vanessa were in the kitchen, the windows open to the cold breeze. You were cutting vegetables, Vanessa’s dexterity with knives as good as a wad of putty left in the sun, and she instead kneaded dough poorly. Daniela had inadvertently whipped her sisters into an emotional frenzy after dinner last night and caused a series of unceremonious gorging on whomever was unluckiest and unwanted by their mothers’ palette.

With the chambermaids gone, it was the cooks who took the brunt of their hunger. Your sibling remained with his most trusted sous chef and the pastry chefs.

You had taken the last line cook down to the cellar last night, while she was still alive and kicking, dragging her feet along the floor in a vain effort to stop you. She had made excellent bread and glazed wonderfully; she smiled while she kneaded and had the best work ethic of all of them. it was for that reason you had recommended her for cadou experimentation and that reason alone why she had been spared from being eaten alive.

You had cleaned her hair up after you had restrained her and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear.

“You shouldn’t glare so ferociously,” You said, setting down a plate of mouldy bread, “You’ve been given a great opportunity.”

She looked mortified.

“You aren’t going to remember,” You continued, pouring a glass of water, “You don’t understand it and you won’t remember what I’m saying now, but you should be honoured by being brought here. It’s much better than being made into a bath.”

“What?”

“What precisely did you think happened to your paramour Jessica?” You smiled at her expression and set down the candle while she strained against the shackles. “The rest of the chambermaids were put into the Lady’s bath as well. They were sorely needed.”

This was perhaps your favourite part when you cycled through staff. There was something greatly satisfying about watching the pieces fall into place, faith wavering as they learned the truth and then visiting them afterwards and seeing the light in their eyes dead but for hunger.

Playing games, as Lady Dimitrescu said once, after she had caught you unravelling one of her subject’s entire life thread by thread. She had seemed pleased by your tendencies and even instructed you on how best to reveal certain information bit by bit. But you weren’t here for the joy of it, not right now at least.

“You’ve always been good with people, Bronwyn.” You said conversationally and she looked at you oddly.

“Clearly not, since I trusted you.”

“I’ve been manipulating people into liking me for years,” You waved your hand flippantly, “What would you have done if you had known I was like this halfway through your stay?”

The chains rattled, the ghouls scuffled past you and the cell and deeper into the dungeon. You heard the girls giggling down in the darkness, the scream of a man ringing so loudly as to hurt your ears and the cackling after. You stared at Bronwyn and watched her morph from horror to disgust and everything in between.

“Escape?” She said.

“But to me, personally. What would you have done? Would you stop talking to me? Forget things? Pretend you’re fine when you’re obviously so stressed pretending as to be breaking apart at the seams?”

She swallowed and you backed away from the bars. You had ruined your mood already, and you had only been here for five minutes. The bars were grimy and rusted and you rattled them absently.

“Nevermind,” You said instead, picking up the candle, “You’ll want to rest before Lady Dimitrescu gets down here.”

As you left you heard her sharp intake of breath as she spotted her sister in the cell opposite her.

…

“You know, you really had me convinced.” You said to Vanessa when you walked into her room. She was, as ever, sitting blank faced on the bed where you had left her, her chest cavity open to reveal nothing but black mold beneath it.

“Did I?” She said, looking at you and smiling, “I don’t really remember much.”

“The last time I saw you, you were opened exactly like this on a bench in a cell. Do you remember that?”

“No,” She confessed, “I don’t remember how we got to this shit village either.”

“We were still recovering from waking up, they shoved us in a potato sack together and hauled us here.”

“I don’t remember that.” She said and moved her hand to watch it as it crumbled.

You removed the pins holding her skin open, folding them back against her ribs carefully. You lay beside her as she morphed into a blob of black fungus, nestling into the crook of her neck and hugging her chest to you carefully. She still retained a semblance of her former shape, but you could see the details of her face smudging away.

“Vanessa?”

“Yes?” She gargled; the words distorted away from her usually cheerful voice.

“What is it like? Is it painful?”

Her head was growing a large mouth, so you grabbed the knife you kept strapped to your thigh and straddled her chest after you had drawn it. Her chest was a mess of black and it had cooled drastically, like steam as it rose and changed to rainwater. A tongue lolled out of it and long black claws sharpened from her fingernails.

“I see.” You said and started cutting through her neck.

#HOLY SHIT I DID ITTTTTT #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil 8 #a good servant #my writing #5000 words cause i love my followers #<3

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saturnsstufff · 4 years ago

Note

Hey Saturn when your free and got time could you pretty please do some dad Sam headcannons or a short fic, whichever you'd prefer! I just feel like we all need some dad Sam headcannons cause the discord got me thinking about him🥺 dad Sam my beloved

-👀

Honestly he is so fresh in my mind as soon as you sent this I had to write.

Amelia- Awsamdude

Sam was such an amazing person. I mean genuinely, the man worked so hard for everything. He made sure the house you two had was comfortable, he worked hard hours at the prison, all well still experimenting with Redstone. But no matter what, he always made sure to shower you in love and affection. He never wanted you doubting your place within his heart.

Being his girlfriend, and fiancé was short lived to say the least. He wanted to marry you so bad. Calling you his, and only his, was such a high honor to him. After settling down into the comfort of a new chapter in life, you both did start to notice something feeling off or missing. It's said a lot like that, but Sam and you just genuinely felt a little off, and lonely without a little extra spunk.

So naturally when he climbed over you, and suggested maybe bringing a baby into the world, you both broke into wide smiles. It was genuinely the cutest thing ever. He was so happy that you were the mother, well you were happy he was the father.

When you told him you were actually pregnant, he couldn't contain his pure joy and excitement. He had wanted a family for so long, just something he could call his own. He wanted moments with his children like their first Christmas, Easter, ect. He also wanted the little moments in between them.

He knew pregnancies were hard, and he apologized the whole nine months. although he knew the ending was oh, so worth it, the track there was rough. But he adored every trimester you went through. What started as a adorable little bump, turned into something he could gently lift and hold for you.

His favorite thing ever, had quickly become the moments you laid against him in bed. With his hand on your stomach, rubbing gentle loving shapes, as the two of you rested your heads together. Loving the soft gentle moment you always shared. He always made you feel so safe, and you always clamed his nerves, relieving any stress held from his day.

He was one of those dad's that just adored your tummy. He always had a hand or his hands on it. Wanting to just feel close to his child and you. Of course he would also lay his head on your lap and talk to the baby bump. Saying he couldn't wait to meet his little bundle.

When the baby was born he was in love. It was an adorable baby girl, curled up ever so small within your arms. Sam loved the name Amelia, finding it perfect for his little darling.

Well you recovered, Sam was the most perfect dad ever. He never failed to get up at night if Amelia was fussy. Her little cries always cut short at the sight of her strong daddy coming to get her. He would lay her on his chest and rock so gently, singing softly and humming sweet lullaby's so she could sleep peacefully.

You would often catch him slipping back into bed from one of the nightly cries. His arm slipping around your waist tightly. Pulling your body close to his. You couldn't help the smile that graced your lips when you nuzzled his chest. Of course he nuzzled into your neck, finding comfort with your soft presence.

One particular day would always stick out to you. Sam had been working long shifts at the prison, now that dream inhabited the prison he took his job very seriously.

But because of his long hours, Amelia and you have been left alone. Sam didn't want to be gone from his two girls of course. But he also didn't want to leave dream alone.

Luckily one night he came back early, and trust me you were very thankful. Amelia wouldn't stop crying, she just wanted her dad. The crying was starting to take a toll on you as well. As soon as your armor covered husband walked in, you literally cried. Throwing your arms around him you sobbed into his chest. Overwhelmed from being too tired. Of course Sam was shocked and worried when his first interaction home was his wife sobbing into his chest.

"Baby... Hey... Is Amelia ok?..." he asked softly. Gently rubbing your back, wanting to calm you down.

“I.. I don't know! I.. I've fed her, and she doesn't need to be changed! Even when I hold her she cries!" Your tear stained face looked up at him. His face was only showing kindness, gentle eyes looking into your tear filled ones.

"Baby... baby, its ok..." he took your face into his hands softly. Gently rubbing your cheeks, wiping away your tears. He pressed his lips to your forehead, offering soft moments to you to try and ease your worries. "Go ahead and sit down a moment, ok?..." he asked gently. When you nodded as a answer he kisses your forehead once more. Letting his hands fall from your face.

He wondered into Amelia's room, his boots heavy on the wooden floor. As soon as her father came into view she reached out for him. Her little legs kicking away.

"Hey... hey now... I herd my Little Girl was causing momma problems..." He said softly. Picking her up into his arms. With gentle rocks he walked back out to you. Ami cuddled into his arms, her crying now dying down. He offered his hand out to you. His other arm easily holding your baby. "Lets get you a bath love..." you nodded and got up, taking his gentle yet firm hand.

Sam always knew what to do for you and Ami. Well you relaxed out in the freshly drawn bath. Sam had Ami layout on the bed. Her wide Grey eyes looking up at him with wonder as she tried to fit her foot into her mouth. Sam only chuckled at her cute actions. "What do you think your doing there? Feet aren't very yummy" he mused, setting his armor aside. Instead of pulling a shirt on, he just scooped Ami up resting her on his chest. With her cuddling down against him, he smiled at her. Every time he looked at her he saw you, and that only made him love you both more.

When you stepped out of the bathroom you simply head for the living room. Feeling much better now that you had a moment of peace, clothing wise Sam's left over T-shirt acted as a perfect nightgown. When you found Sam, the sight was utterly adorable.

Sam sat on the couch, laid out completely relaxed. On his chest, Ami laid completely asleep. Her soft cheek pressed to Sam's chest, his heart beat offering a soft loving tune. His hand was rested on her back, above the blanket that laid over top of the two cuddle bugs. Although his eyes were closed he wasn't asleep, with the soft pad of your feet he opened his eyes. Gazing up at you with adoring eyes.

"How was your bath, baby?" He asked softly, moving a bit of the blanket for you. You crawled onto the couch by him. Nuzzling and resting your head on his shoulder the three of you all cuddled down.

"It was long needed... better if you were with me..." he smiled and kissed your head. Taking in all the affection he was receiving.

"We can always take one together again... maybe when Ami isn't so fussy..." he muttered, his thumb rubbing over Ami's tiny back.

"She really missed you..." you said, looking down at your sweet daughter. Sam's arm snuck around your waist, pulling you tight against him.

"Well I missed you both..." Sam said softly. No matter what he always found peace with you both. With both his girls. You two were the one thing he would give everything up for. You, his wife, the one person he confided everything in, and Ami. His daughter, the daughter made of his flesh and blood. He loved you both more than words would even begin to explain. No matter how fussy she was, it was moments like this that made up for it. Sam turned his head to face you, his lips pressing together a moment before he spoke. "I Love you (y/n)..."

"I love you too Sam"

#awesamdude x reader #dreamsmp x reader #minecraft fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #asd

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mammons-tax-returns · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! I saw that your ask box was open, so I was wondering if I could request how the brothers (if not all then just Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Leviathan) would react to the mc defending them! Like they get into a fight and their only response was "they were talking bad about you" or something! -🥀 (Also side note, do you right for GN! MC's, or just male?)

BROTHERS REACTING TO MC DEFENDING THEM

Hey anon! Thanks so much for requesting! As for your question, This is TECHNICALLY a male reader blog, however, if it isn’t necessary, I will use he/him pronouns loosely. In other words, if the prompt doesn’t specify/depend on it being a male mc, it will be gn!mc! Hope this clears up some confusion! I’ll start putting whether a post is for a gn or male mc at the very beginning of said post from now on.

✖️GENDER NEUTRAL MC✖️

fluff, some angst :).

Lucifer was more angry than anything to hear that MC had gotten in a fight. The one thing he made sure they did was to stay out of trouble. And yet, they seem to be a magnet for chaos.

He stumbled upon the fight before it got bad, and had the demon dealt with as he accompanied MC to an empty room at RAD.

Although he seemed to be sweating out of exasperation, it was easy to tell that he was simply worried about them.

Well. Kind of.

If you look past the hour-long lecture it is.

MC tries countless times to explain themself, and yet he never fails to reroute the conversation back to his lesson on running from a demon before things get bad.

It gets to a point when MC has to put a hand over his mouth to quiet him.

Only then do they explain what happened, and what caused the fight to begin with.

First, he is absolutely shocked. And he can’t really find the right thing to say.

Then, his eyes relax, and his frown seems to melt away. He truly wants to be mad still, to teach a proper lesson. But he just can’t do it.

“It is true that humans tend not to think things through, I suppose.”

He crosses his arms and continues, “Well, I appreciate it, but I don’t need the protection.”

After ruffling their hair, he smirks a little.

“I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you if you rush into situations like that. Maybe put you on a leash.”

After things are cleared up, he finds the situation a little comical. A human defending a demon.

Luckily, the wounds aren’t bad, or else Lucifer wouldn’t have hesitated giving some sort of consequence to the MC.

Mammon is, unfortunately, not around to witness or intervene into the fight.

So when the next time he sees MC there’s a dark magenta ring around their eye, he loses it.

He wastes no time taking them home from RAD. We know he never really cared for classes anyways.

Unlike Lucifer, he wants to hear them out on the way home.

Although he physically feels himself getting butterflies in his stomach from the idea of being cared for, he clears his throat and tries to push it aside.

He knows that they’re not going to be taken away from him anytime soon. At least, not with his unintentionally vice grip on their wrist they aren’t.

And yet he can’t help but constantly flick his gaze back to them and their wounds.

We were all waiting for this one: he feels horrible that they got hurt because of him, albeit indirectly.

He puts emphasis on steering clear of hotheaded demons— or, all demons that aren’t the brothers for that matter.

“I hear ya, The Great Mammon is a gem that all of devildom should be tryna’ protect! But... You’re better off ignoring that... I mean, look at ya! All beat up and stuff... N-Not that you look bad or anything. Well... Um.”

When MC laughs at him, he’s both relieved that they’re not upset enough to sulk, and embarrassed because of his wording.

So they have to reassure him that they simply find him worth protecting— for exactly this. He cares for them, and is probably willing to protect them too.

As he’s sloppily tending to their bruises, he offers to spend the day with them.

He says its his payment, and that he would defend them when Lucifer found out about today.

But it’s more so the fact that he wishes more than anything to spend every day for the rest of his demonic life with them.

Levi is another brother who is unfortunately not around at the time due to his home schooling.

That’s why he’s one of the last people to find out about it, and he feels guilt hit him like an 18-wheeler.

The injuries are a little more severe, but nothing that would keep someone from going about their daily life. Nonetheless, Levi is demanding to be the one to patch them up.

As soon as MC cuts him off before he can start rambling, they make sure to explain the situation, i.e. “I had to defend you! Or else they would have kept talking bad about you.”

He turns red and covers his mouth, undoubtedly mumbling something about how impossibly romantic the situation was.

But after that, he shakily asks that MC tries not to talk as he takes time to let everything sink in. He still can’t believe it.

So he finds himself shakily asking questions like, “So... You just heard him and decided to-... To defend me? No one asked you to?”

For every reassuring nod that he gets, he feels his head spin a little faster.

It takes him a while, but all the wounds are properly sterilized and taken care off beneath his cold fingers.

He leans back in his seat, and blows out a slow puff of air. “MC... You’re badass. Seriously. I don’t really know what I, a demon, have done to deserve you... But... Thank you.”

The conversation ends with tears, but they couldn’t have been anything but happy.

He just can’t believe someone could go as far as to fight for his sake over a simple ill-intended comment.

Satan witnesses the event. Which... May or may not be a good thing.

MC doesn’t notice him at first. They’re too busy with the demon that has her hands on their uniform collar.

But then they see the green flames licking at their peripherals, emitting from somewhere behind them.

The demon girl in front of them seems to lose all color in her face at the sight of those same flames. She instantly drops MC to their knees, and attempts to run.

As Satan steps forward to grab the female student, he spins MC around with ease so that they won’t have to witness whatever he’s about to do.

MC doesn’t know how much time has passed due to the shock of the moment. It could be seconds or minutes. But when Satan pulls them back up to their feet, he is stone faced.

MC walks stiffly to the House of Lamentation with Satan, careful not to set anything else off in him.

The entire walk to his room is silent. The first time he speaks is when he offers a seat on his bed, nudging books aside with his foot.

He takes a deep breath before he begins diligently tending to the injuries.

“Mind explaining what happened?” He doesn’t sound angry at them, but it’s hard to tell with him.

Satan notices the hesitation in answering, so he gives a small smile. “Are you scared? You shouldn’t be. I’m just a bit... Tense, is all.”

After a moment, MC tells him the reasoning for the fight.

Satan sighs once more and places a hand on theirs. Oh to be so selfless yet still be a fragile human.

“MC... Demons talk. And it’s not always nice. It’s best to just let it go, okay? Well... Give me their name first, but I can’t have you losing a limb for me. Who knows what i’d do then.”

MC can’t completely promise that they’ll simply forget about anyone that talks badly about him, but Satan only gives a helpless sigh.

“What ever will we do with you.” He is much more relaxed than before, and his tone is affectionate.

MC doesn’t know what happened to that girl, and you figure it’s best to never ask.

Asmodeus is preoccupied with a hand mirror, but a circle of gathering demons certainly catches his attention.

He hums, interested. He’s always been one for drama.

But as he peeks over the crowd, his heart sinks impossibly deep in his body.

MC isn’t bloody, but by the looks of it, they may be very soon.

While he’s ridden with shock, a punch lands on their face, and the crowd roars. The yells overtake his own, and he can’t get through the group of people pushing and shoving.

Diavolo and Barbatos were alerted of the congregation of students, and are only just now arriving. And at the sight of them, students scatter like bugs. Leaving MC on the ground and clutching their face in pain.

Diavolo and Barbatos leave MC in the care of Asmodeus while they turn to resolve the problem with the attacker.

Asmodeus is frantic, fanning his face as he helps MC to sit up. He doesn’t know what to do first, does he ask to see the wound? But what’s the point when he doesn’t really know how to treat it in any circumstance? No one has ever socked him in the face before.

So he opts to carry them off to the infirmary, bridal style. All along the way, he gives reassuring words that seem to slightly calm the injuried MC.

“Hey, beautiful! Ughh, the nerve of some demons! I can’t even begin to— Oh right... The ice pack, I’ll get that now, so sit tight, love!”

While he allows them to press the ice to their eye themself, he is massaging his frowning face. All while he seems to be worried about all the wrong things.

“Is this type of injury permanent on humans?? Your face is too good for that!” “That low-level demon... I wish I could ruin his face a hundred times worse than what he’s doing to innocent bystanders!”

MC patiently allows him to vent, because hearing him fret of the most “Asmo” things somehow brought light to the situation and distracted from the throbbing in their face.

An hour must have passed before Asmo actually takes in the situation. “Oh, but I haven’t even asked... What in devildom were you doing with such a grotesque demon? Do I have to replace Mammon in guarding you?”

Finally, MC explains.

He’s less than shocked. Instead, he holds his own arms with an almost sympathetic smile, “Oh, darling... It’s better to talk to Lucifer about things like that... If at all. As the Avatar of Lust, It’s kind of part of the program to get nasty birds twittering about you... Fan behavior.”

MC seems less than convinced, replying with a small, “But...”

Asmo grins and puts a gentle hand on their shoulder. “It’s adorable that you’d do that for me, MC, really. I wish I could just dress you up and show you to the world, show them how special you make me feel! But please. Don’t sacrifice your complexion for a-ny-thing!”

Even Asmo can feel himself get butterflies when MC does the smallest of things for him. But taking care of that face is no joke to him.

Beel is at the gym when it happens, and is the last one to hear about it. The brothers are all discreetly trying to decide whether or not to tell him. We all know how scary he can get.

MC listens to Mammon... For some reason. And that entails avoiding Beel until the scrapes and bruises on your body heal.

Bad idea. Beel now looks like a hurt puppy, and is desperately trying to figure out what he has done.

The fateful moment of realization for him comes on a Tuesday night, less than a week after the incident. MC walks into the kitchen, searching for a late night beverage to drink and also hold against their wounds.

Beel is already there, instantly looking ashamed when he sees them.

“Beel...” MC starts, forgetting that they were supposed to be avoiding him. They stop themselves before hastily pulling their sleeves down to cover the lingering bruises.

This catches Beel’s attention to detail when it comes to others.

His eyebrows furrow a bit, and MC gulps. There was no getting out of this.

Before completely explaining everything, MC has to calm him. Because if not, he’d be checking every inch of their body for serious injuries. And even if there were none, he’d never let them leave bed for the next week. At least.

They take a deep breath and start with the people poking fun at his soft personality in such an intimidating body. And then finishing with the plan of steering clear of him to keep him from getting worried. (you leave out mammon’s part last second)

At first, his eyes are serious as he listens intently, silently going over things more than once in his head to ensure that he was understanding the story properly.

Once MC has finished, his eyes change completely. They’re soft, and concerned, but not overbearing.

MC felt a bit guilty seeing him like this.

Beel reaches out to hug them, but is hesitant, worried that they’d still be hurt. So MC has to let him know that their wounds have healed for the most part.

“MC.... Firstly, thank you.” He pulls them into a soft hug. “It makes me all happy on the inside when you do things like that.” His voice is quiet, but much too unstable. MC knew that this was a telltale sign that he was near tears.

MC doesn’t hesitate to reach up and stroke the back of his hair, feeling him bury his head into their shoulder.

“Beel? Are you okay?”

“I should be the one asking you that.”

‘you should know better’ is what he wants to say. But maybe they don’t, he thinks. Afterall, when was the last time a human with such limited magical capability was surrounded by demons 24/7?

“I just need you to promise me.” He carefully pulls back and sucks in a breath, keeping himself from imagining MC scared and hurt without him— because of him.

“Promise me that you’ll tell me about things like that first. Before you get yourself hurt, or... Or worse.” There’s another word that he has to stop himself from saying. He doesn’t know how he could handle that thought.

There, he thinks. If they didn’t know before how serious it was, now they did. Hopefully.

The brothers notice that Beel is a bit more normal than the days before, so they assume that things have been cleared up for the two.

Although they have to pretend as if they had never heard about the incident when he mentions it.

Belphie was definitely not there when it happened.

But unlike with every other brother, MC was unable to be saved immediately after having found themselves in a brawl with a low class demon.

MC silently curses as they find themselves limping through the halls of the House of Lamentation.

They’re lucky to have only gotten out of that with an injured ankle, they remind themself. It didn’t seem... Broken. But it definitely needed more medical attention than it received now— A knee-high sock they pulled off of their foot wrapped tightly around a ruler they used as a makeshift splint.

They were sure that the majority of the brothers were at school, so they’d have at least a few hours to figure out what to do.

How would the brothers react if they saw them like this? Would they feel that this was a mere inconvenience? Afterall, this may just be a bad sprain, and now look at them. They can barely limp. Much less walk. But maybe after a bit of rest, it would magically heal.

They decide to head to the music room (?), where they knew that none of the brothers would immediately run into after school.

After finding a stool to sit on, MC hisses when they bump their ankle on the floor. The throbbing seemed to shake their whole body.

“Holy shi—“

“MC?”

A sleepy drawl from the couch behind them causes them to freeze. They wanted to slap themself. Of course Belphie would be sleeping here, why didn’t they think of that?

“What’re you doing h—....” He stops.

MC can already tell that he had noticed the poor job they had done with their ankle. “I fell down the stairs. But it’s okay, I just—“

“MC. I’m not stupid. Why are you home so early, alone? If you skipped or left early, Mammon would have sniffed you out like a dog and be here, too. Spill it.”

If Belphie was good at anything (besides sleeping), it was reading emotions. There was no lying anymore. And so MC simply explained the fight and its causes.

When they turn to look at him, he simply blinks. He doesn’t seem very concerned, but he sleepily walks over to inspect their leg.

He’s careful to support their foot as he lifts their entire leg, checking the swelling.

“... Geez. You’re stupid.” His eyebrows knit together with an unknown emotion. Worry? Irritation? A mix of both? “I don’t care about what such irrelevant demons think, and you shouldn’t either.”

MC is a little speechless, but only laughs. “Yeah. It was a little dumb looking back at it. But you should have heard them, Belphie... There was no way I’d go without a fight, okay?”

Belphie smiles back. “If you wanted to prove yourself to me... There were other ways, you know?”

“Should we get Beel to help us set up the pillow fort?”

“Well, how else are you gonna heal? You can’t get better if you don’t rest with me.”

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me gender neutral mc #gn mc #fluff #fanfic #lucifer #mammon #levi #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #belphie #beel #belphegor #beelzebub

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pedros-mustache · 4 years ago

Text

the rising sun

summary: “be still, sad heart! and cease repining / behind the clouds the sun is still shining.” — henry wadsworth longfellow

word count: 2.8k

warnings: angst, discussion of depression/anxiety, general not-so-happy tone to the whole thing, some fluff thrown in there for good measure

a/n: to be honest, i almost didn’t post this. i’ve not been doing well the last week, and this fic is pretty indicative of my current mental state. i decided to upload it despite my reservations and embarrassment on the hope that this might give someone struggling just like a me a moment of peace. xoxo. ❤️

it’s raining when marcus comes home.

you sit on the living room’s padded window seat, plush blanket tangled around your legs, forehead pressed against the chill windowpane at your side. bloated raindrops slide down the glass, and you watch, halfheartedly willing one raindrop to reach the lip of the window before another.

the narrow street below your window is empty. puddles gather on the red brick sidewalks, and the birch trees planted in small earthen squares along the road tremble with each sharp gust of rainy wind. it’s cold out. you can feel the chill through the window, but you don’t pull away.

you hear the front door shut and marcus toe his shoes off. his keys jingle as they drop to the catch-all bowl on the foyer table, and then he’s hurrying into the kitchen, shouting as he goes. you can’t see him from where you sit, but his voice carries through the small apartment. you blame the high ceilings and exposed brick walls. sound travels too easily in this space, and sometimes it's too much for you to bear. you sink lower on the window seat, shutting your eyes against the sound of his voice.

“hey! sorry i’m late. there was this—this thing at work, and then i had to get the groceries, but then i forgot about dinner—” he sighs heavily, places something on the kitchen island that crinkles. “whatever, it doesn’t matter. i’m home. d’you have a good day?”

you huff in response. the sound gets trapped in the blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders.

“i got chinese.”

he’s close now, his voice dropped to an even timbre. you can feel him, feel the sudden shift of his mood when he enters the living room and sees you, curled up on the window seat like a pillbug caught in a storm. where he was unruffled before, on the verge of relaxing after a long day of work, he is now worried, concern rolling off him in crashing waves.

you hate that you do this to him.

“you okay, bug?”

opening your eyes, you tilt your head over your shoulder to look at him. you manage a weary smile, wavering around the edges, entirely unconvincing and pathetic. “mhm. just tired ‘s all. long day.”

marcus’s brow pinches. he puts his hands in his pockets, and the jacket around his shoulders tightens with the movement. “you’ve been tired a lot the last few days,” he says. his words are slow, calculated, like he’s dancing around the point.

you shrug, dancing around the point with him, a slow-footed, wary sort of dance. “i guess.”

“are you sure you—” he stops talking, removes a hand from his pockets, drags his thumb over his lower lip as he stares at you. his brown eyes are warm, and his stare is intense. it’s as if he’s trying to peel back all of your layers with his eyes alone, each bat of his long eyelashes another layer closer to the most vulnerable places of your heart.

you sit up, suddenly nervous under his scrutinizing gaze. frowning, you brush a stray lock of hair away from your face, teeth tugging at your lower lip. “what? what are you staring at me for?” there’s more than a bite to your tone, and you wince at the harsh sound of your voice.

he doesn’t deserve that.

turning your face away, you return your gaze to the puddle third from left of your front tire. it’s grown bigger, and your car’s reflection seems to flutter as wind pushes across the top of the pool of water.

“can i sit?”

you look from marcus to his outstretched hand to the empty space across from you on the seat. after your timid nod, he sits with another heavy sigh, his second of the night. you wonder how often you are the one to make him sigh like that.

he leans his head against the wall and watches as a bird swoops down from the roof ledge to a tree across the street. he sits in an awkward sort of fold, his legs too long to sit comfortably on the seat with you there as well. twisted at the waist, legs stretched to the side, he folds his hands in his lap and inhales deeply then exhales through his mouth.

your face softens as you wait for him to speak. you inhale too, mirroring the slow rise and fall of his chest with deep breathing of your own. the panic that’s gripped you all day begins to ebb. the blurry edges of your vision clears, and he comes into focus. for a moment, you allow yourself to study the lines of his neck, his sun-kissed skin, and strong jaw. he’s solid and firm in all the places you are not—physically, mentally, emotionally.

your chest tightens again at the thought.

he shifts his gaze away from the cramped georgetown street. “you forget to breathe when you’re anxious.”

ducking your head, you nod. “i know.” with a sigh of your own, you meet his eyes through the tops of your lashes. “i’m sorry.”

“why are you apologizing?”

“well, i don’t… i mean—” you shake your head, caught off guard by his question and the earnest look on his face. why does he have to look at you like that? so open and honest and caring? he shouldn’t look at you like that, not when you’re like this.

you study your knees, pushed tight against your chest. there’s a frayed thread on your pant leg. you pluck it off and drop it to the side. finally, you say, “i’ve been off the last few days, haven’t really been myself. i know i’m not fun when i’m like this…”

“not fun?” marcus scoffs as though offended, and your head snaps up to level him a glare. registering the look on your face, he lifts his hands in surrender. “wait a second—i wasn’t making fun. i just—” he tilts his head to the side. “baby, you don’t have to be fun all the time.”

your shoulders sag. you look away. you can’t look at him too long. he’s too good to you.

in the year and a half you’ve been with marcus, you’ve had your bad days. they come and go. you’ve taken to comparing your bad days to the ice-cream truck which wanders through your neighborhood from time to time. it’s never consistent, always appearing out of the blue after an extended absence, looking more and more worn down upon each new arrival. your bad days are like the neighborhood ice-cream truck.

marcus has seen you in your anxious moments: the afternoons where it hits you and suddenly you can’t breathe or think clearly and everything feels topsy-turvy. those moments you can handle yourself. you know what to do and how to bounce back without causing too much of a fuss.

he’s seen you in your depressed moments too: the evenings where all you want to do is curl in bed and never leave, your thoughts a swirling mess of perceived rejection and bleakness and despair. those moments you prefer to work through on your own, though he makes it abundantly clear he’s only an arm’s reach away. still, you know what to do and how to bounce back without causing too much of a fuss.

you don’t like to cause a fuss.

this week, though—fuck, this week has been bad, and you both know it.

from the moment you wake, it starts: muscle-gripping fear, racing heart, dry mouth, and weary limbs. you stumble through your morning routine, pushing it all down, down, down because you have to go to work. you have to do your job. life doesn’t stop just because you’re anxious.

when you come home in the afternoons, the bed is waiting, cold and unmade. you sleep—sleep the worry away and the fatigue away. it’s all you can do to be ready for marcus to return from the city. he doesn’t need to see you like this, a lump of trembling hands and bone-deep exhaustion.

this isn’t what he signed up for.

for a week you’ve been hanging on by a thread, shoving him and everyone else in your path away because it’s what’s easiest. you can take care of yourself. no one needs the added weight of caring for you, least of all marcus. if you opened the door, let him have a peek inside, he’d know, he’d see—it’s too much. it’s better if you keep this part of yourself to yourself.

“bug?”

you pull your face away from your elbow. “yeah?”

“come here.” he opens his arms, and it’s an invitation you cannot decline.

the transition from your side of the window seat to his is awkward. it’s a tangle of arms and legs in the narrow space, an elbow against his stomach, a grunt of pain, and a hurried whisper of apology. when you settle your back against his chest, his warmth pushes through the chill clinging to your skin. you’ve been sitting by the window too long. you turn your face to press your cheek against his shoulder, winding both of your arms around his bicep. you squeeze tight, inhaling his cologne and the raindrops still clinging to his jacket.

“there.” his chest rumbles beneath you when he speaks. “that’s better.”

“marcus, i—”

he shushes you with a gentle whisper. “hold on. just breathe with me, okay?”

you swallow past the lump in your throat and nod against his arm.

inhale, exhale—you follow his lead.

your eyes drift shut. he feels good, safe and steady.

unbidden, tears prick your eyes, and you are powerless to stop them. you push your face further against his arm to stem the sudden flow of tears. the taste of salt floods your mouth, and you sniff hard, dragging the back of one hand across your cheeks. marcus doesn’t say anything. he just drags his hand over your hair, his own cheek pressed to the crown of your head. he holds you tight, and you surrender to the weight of his arms around you, his body pressed against yours.

when the tears stop, you sit up to wipe your face. marcus drops his hand from your head to your back. his touch is smooth and gentle, and you laugh against the ridiculousness of it all.

“i’m sorry,” you say, dragging your sleeve under your nose. “i know you didn’t come home anticipating this.”

marcus is quiet for a moment. his palm spreads across the width of your lower back. you can feel the warmth of his skin perimate the thin cotton of your sleep shirt. “baby?” you turn your face to him. “you gotta stop apologizing.”

you swallow hard with a nod. “yeah, i know. i’m so—” he quirks an eyebrow, and you laugh despite yourself. “you’re right.”

“come here,” he says again. “lean back.”

you do as you're told, your head nestled against his shoulder. he slides his hands down your arms, a slow drag, until he can fit his fingers between yours and squeeze. he kisses your temple, and the hair on his cheek tickles your skin.

“i love you,” he whispers.

you smile—a genuine smile, small as it is.

inhaling deeply, you decide to lay it all on the table. you love marcus. if he ever asked, you’d marry him in a heartbeat. but you’re tired of running from him when all he’s ever done is proven himself to be a gentleman with a heart of solid gold. he deserves to know the truth, the whole truth and nothing but it. even if it drives him away in the end.

“when i was a freshman in college,” you start, shifting your back against his chest. “i dated this guy. we were together for only a few months, but he was a real asshole.” the way marcus stiffens behind you, his arms tightening reflexively around your middle, warms your cheeks. his subtle display of protectiveness emboldens your story, and you continue with a clearer voice.

“i was really anxious back then, like every day. it was a constant battle between myself and my anxiety, and he hated it. one night we were on the phone and i was telling him about my day and he got really quiet and then he told me, ‘i can’t deal with your anxiety. it’s too much.’ i’ve never forgotten that.”

when marcus says nothing in response, you twist to face him, laying your hand flat against his chest. you can feel his heartbeat beneath your palm. it beats fast, a hurried gallop in his chest. his eyes dart back and forth between yours, his lips parted in something akin to shock. you don’t give him a chance to speak before you continue.

“marcus? please—please tell me you can deal with it. i don’t know what i’d do if you couldn’t.”

marcus’s face crumbles. with tears welling in his eyes, he lifts his hands to cup your face. “oh my god, baby,” he breathes, rolling his forehead over yours. “i’m so sorry.”

he kisses you. it’s short and sweet and perhaps another thread in his apology. you grip his wrist, holding him tight, willing him to stay—stay with you now and forever, until the sun no longer shines and the earth vanishes to dust.

when you break apart, he skims his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks. “what a fucking loser,” he says, and you laugh, tossing your head back at the sheer vitriol lacing his words. it’s not often marcus gets angry. to see a red flush on his cheeks and frustration in his brow, all over some guy you haven’t thought about in years, it makes your heart flutter in the best possible way. “no, i mean it! god, what an asshole.”

he sucks in a breath and catches your eyes. his thumb and forefinger move to grip your chin, a gentle hold but one that leaves you powerless to ignore anything he’s about to say. you steel yourself, lungs tight with anticipation.

“it—this—you.” he shakes his head. “it’s not something i deal with. i don’t deal with it. do you hear me? say you do.”

eyes misty, you nod. “i do. i hear you, marcus.”

“i want to take care of you. that’s why we’re together. we’re a team. teammates rely on one another—”

“marcus, i don’t watch sports.”

he smirks. “just humor me.” releasing his hold on your chin, he smooths his hand down the side of your face. “i want to help you. you don’t need to carry this all by yourself.”

“i just thought that—”

“look, all guys are idiots. if you’re feeling some type of way, you gotta tell me. i can’t read minds. but all guys aren’t assholes. i want to help you.”

you cover the hand on your cheek with your fingers and nuzzle your nose against his palm. “i love you.”

“i love you more. really, i do. more than the stars in the sky and all the—”

you pull your face away with a grimace, holding up your hand to stop him. “okay, please, that’s too much. too sweet, too schmaltzy. try and preserve some of your dignity.”

marcus laughs, a deep, hearty sound that warms you to the center of your being. he winds an arm around the small of your back to draw you close, his lips descending to the curve of your neck. he peppers your skin with kisses—warm ones, wet ones, gentle ones—until you push at his shoulders. he drops back against the wall, chest heaving and eyes glistening with mirth.

you catch your lower lip in your teeth and shake your head. “you hopeless romantic you.”

“guilty as charged.”

sliding out from between his legs, you drop to the floor. “you said you got chinese?”

“yeah, but it might be a little cold by now.”

you offer him your hand. “that’s okay. i’m hungry.”

marcus slides his fingers between yours. “i’ll warm it up then.”

as he leads you to the kitchen, your bare feet padding behind his socked ones, you catch a glimpse of the world outside. it’s no longer raining. the clouds have parted, revealing a bright sun. the sun’s rays drench the street in the warm glow of sunset, all orange and pale yellow and dusky red. you smile and lean against marcus’s arm as he sets about warming dinner in the microwave. he follows your eyeline to the window and throws an arm around your shoulders.

“do you want to go on a walk after dinner?”

looking up, you grin. “yeah, that would be nice.”

“the rain never stays forever.”

he’s not talking about the weather, and you both know it. you squeeze his hand.

“no, i guess it doesn’t.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pm writes

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lady-literature · 4 years ago

Text

ayy, so ya’ll know that Miraculous/DC crossover I screamed about a while back? I found plot for it.

It is not quite finished yet, but it’s also so much longer than I originally planned on it being. (me: I’ll just write a fun little thing to get this out of my head!

me, 13k words later: oh no)

SO! Here’s a little sneak peak!

(or, find the finished product here!)

***

There is an unspoken rule, kept by any outsider who’s ever set foot in Gotham, that you should only ever visit the city once. Most find that visiting even once was already too much.

The most dangerous city on earth isn’t kind to its residents—much less strangers who don’t know how to watch their pockets or keep off the streets after dark. It’s gotten better, perhaps, in recent years since the Bat started lurking on rooftops, but that doesn’t mean the city is good.

Normal people stay as far from Gotham as they can get.

Marinette, (un)luckily, is far from normal.

***

The touring of Metropolis, New York City, and Gotham had been going well as far as Marinette was concerned, no matter what Chloé says to her about carelessness and naivety.

She’s glad her, Adrien and Chloé all decided to take this summer trip before they started University in the fall. It sucks that it was just the three of them, she wishes more of their friends could’ve tagged along but, alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

Kagami was in the middle of training season and couldn’t come. Luka was touring with his father, learning the tricks of the trade and other things. Nathaniel had already been commissioned to paint a mural downtown before they really finalized dates. Nino was in much the same boat as Nath, just with music and pitch meetings. Felix hated traveling and Alix was doing… something. Time travelling, probably. Or at least spending more time in the burrow.

Marinette was certainly starting to notice the way she’s begun talking about ancient history like she was actually there when she goes on rants now. Felix also probably noticed but Marinette’s also sure that he’s aiding and abetting her in exchange for insider information so…

She’ll probably have to deal with that later, unfortunately. But not today.

Their tour group was going to Amusement Mile later that afternoon, but had been given free roam until then. Marinette decided to spend the time up until lunch at the park near the meetup spot in Gotham Square and Chloé hadn’t complained or vetoed that idea so the trio happily camped out on the grass.

Marinette had returned to her sketch of Lady Gotham in between eating bites of her sandwich. She thinks she much preferred the style of it to New York City’s Lady Liberty. There was just something about the Statue of Justice that inspired her.

She’d been doodling about it since they left the marina yesterday. She also had plenty of pictures of the statue for inspiration later. There’s one she especially likes and thinks she might even print out to put up on her wall at home.

She’s playing with the idea of draping fabrics for formal wear designs like the roman togas both Lady statues seem to wear when a tennis ball rolls up and bumps into her leg. She has only enough time to move her sketchbook out of the way before a large dog bowls into her, tail wagging happily and barking up a storm.

“Oof!”

Adrien’s already halfway up the tree, startled out of his light doze by the barking and Chloé only daintily moved away from Marinette, leaving her to her fate.

Pushing herself back up so she’s not crushed by what feels like one hundred pounds of dog, she comes face to snout with quite possibly the biggest dog she’s ever seen. From there, there was really only one choice of action Marinette could have followed.

“Oh! Well, aren’t you just the prettiest boy?” she tells the dog happily, reaching up to give him scratches. “Such a big boy! You nearly bowled me over, didn’t you?”

If it’s possible, the dog’s tail begins to wag even faster, enough that he accidentally overbalances himself and decides to roll with it, flopping onto his back and letting her rub his stomach. Marinette does so enthusiastically, her baby-talk to the dog devolving into broken not-words and the occasional exclamation of good boy! in both English and French.

The dog was a great dane, and had the softest coat of black fur she’s ever seen. There was a thick red collar around his throat, and Marinette stopped furiously rubbing his belly long enough to look at the silver tag attached to it.

“Titus, huh?” she says to the dog. “Such a strong name for such a distinguished boy, huh?”

“Oh god,” she hears Adrien groan from his spot still up in the tree. When she looks up, she finds him eyeing Titus with distrust, the absolute kitten. “I hope whoever his owner is, they’ve never read Shakespeare.”

Both her and Chloé blink at the strange non sequitur.

“Uh, why? Exactly?”

“Because they have shit taste in his plays if they do! Titus Andronicus is, like, Shakespeare’s worst play.”

Chloé glares up at him. “You’re such a nerd. Now stop being ridiculous and get down from there.”

“But, Chloé! It’s a dog.”

“Adrien Agreste!”

Marinette tunes out the two blondes as they devolve into sibling-like bickering. It’s a skill she’s had to learn and learn quickly with living in such close quarters with the pair for the last few weeks and also being friends with the pair for the past three years.

“Speaking of your owner, I wonder where they are?” She scratches under Titus’ chin thoughtfully. “Should we go look for them?”

Titus' head flops to the side, almost like he’s listening for something, before he’s clambering up onto his feet to tower over her. He’s almost twice as tall as she is sitting, which is just ridiculous. Why is everything in America so big?

Getting to her feet herself, Titus still stands almost as tall as her. She can rest her elbow on his back when she grabs his collar to make sure he doesn’t run off. He leads mostly, pulling her along at a steady trot she has to jog to keep up with.

He truly was such a well behaved dog and certainly lived up to his breed’s reputation as a gentle giant.

Or at least she thought so, until the call of “Titus! Here!” echoes through the park and he goes racing off towards it, dragging Marinette along for the ride no matter how much she tries to slow down.

Titus comes to a skidding stop, and Marinette barely stops herself from falling by keeping her arm around Titus.

“And who are you?”

Looking up, she finds a young man, probably around her age, staring down at her. He does not look happy—but most Gothamites don’t, Marinette’s found. He’s also, despite the almost glare he’s giving her, very attractive.

When she opens her mouth, incoherent French comes tumbling out, much to her embarrassment.

Ah. ‘Not being able to speak coherently to people she finds attractive’, she had wondered where that particular personality trait had been as of late. Even after so many years hanging around people who should be—and are—super models, she still acts like a spaz. Why is she like this?

The man raises an eyebrow at her, looking very unamused.

She tries again. “Ah- Je suis- I mean, I am very sorry. Your dog found me sitting over there with my friends and I figured I should find his owner instead of letting him just wander around and I assume your his owner because if you aren’t this is very embarrassing for me. Not that it wasn’t embarrassing before but, oh, I’m definitely rambling and I’m going to shut up now.”

Pressing her lips together as tightly as humanly possible so her tongue will stop making horrible life decisions, she holds Titus’ bright yellow tennis ball out to his owner.

The man huffs, taking the ball from her hand. “I didn’t ask for your life’s story.”

Marinette blinks and then frowns. Her hand tightens around where she’s still holding onto Titus’ collar and she has to very carefully unclench her hand before she breaks it or something.

“I didn’t give it,” she says through clenched teeth, embarrassment abruptly forgotten. There’s no need for the man to be rude.

He scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me.”

She doesn't really have anything to say to that. Instead, she turns to Titus, who’s sitting like the good boy he is. She very seriously leans down to eye level—she does not have to lean down far—and tells him, “Your owner is an ass. But you are still a very good boy.”

She plants a kiss to his forehead that makes his tail wag, gives him one last scratch behind the ears and walks back towards her friends without looking back at the rude man.

***

Colonel Bug: so I met kagami and felix’s lovechild today

MY HONOR: I would never stoop so low.

the evil twin: I would never stoop so low.

ShutUpTurtleMan: Nettie

dearest

the evil twin: Okay first of all-

ShutUpTurtleMan: sunshine

light of our collective lives and reason I breathe

what the fuCK

YoureUnderAgreste: Kagami, my love, how could you?

The Betrayal™

GottaGoFast: ew

Queen of Salt: ew

sneaky snake: Send pics or it didn’t happen

give me art or give me death: [a photo of the ‘right in front of my salad?’ meme]

Queen of Salt: wait

I was with you all day when did this happen?

was it the owner of the dog that attacked you?

ShutUpTurtleMan: WHAT

Colonel Bug: he didn’t attack me!

chloe stop spreading misinformation!

titus was a sweetheart!

YoureUnderAgreste: incorrect

he was, in fact, a menace

give me art or give me death: wait was Titus the dog or the lovechild

ShutUpTurtleMan: ^^^ ?

Colonel Bug: shut up adrien

all animals are great

stop being elitist

give me art or give me death: okay but seriously what kind of dog was it

the evil twin: why exactly was he our lovechild?

GottaGoFast: because of the dramatic tryst you and Kagami had obviously

keep up

Colonel Bug: because he was as pretty as he was rude actually

And gave me the feeling that he’d rant about his honor and parentage if it given the chance

MY HONOR: you say something once as an unsocialized teen

GottaGoFast: MARI YOU DOG!

ARE GETTING TAIL IN GOTHAM OF ALL PLACES?

Colonel Bug: no alix

did you not read the part about how rude he is

YoureUnderAgreste: i mean,,,,,

Felix is pretty rude and we all still like him

ShutUpTurtleMan: and Chloe

YoureUnderAgreste: oh good point nino

Colonel Bug: i hate it here

i spoke to him for like 2 seconds

Queen of Salt: Okay first of all-

YoureUnderAgreste: so i mean it’s not really a dealbreaker yaknow?

Colonel Bug: this familys a nightmare

i shoulda left you all on the street corner where i found you

YoureUnderAgreste: BUT CHA DINDT

ShutUpTurtleMan: but yA DIDNT

GottaGoFast: BUT CHA DIDNT!!

sneaky snake: but ya didn’t

***

I have every no regrets. stay tuned for more!

#my typewriter #miraculous ladybug #batfam #maribat #daminette #mlb #dc #mlb x dc

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hellowkatey · 3 years ago

Text

it's late night writing hours my guys. so here's a little bit of what happens before and after Echo gets absolutely wrecked by a cafeteria tray in Aftermath

2.6k words ~ CW: PTSD/panic attacks/medical trauma

For a glorious moment, Omega revels in the chaos she had started. She isn't quite sure what foodstuffs make up the greasy loafs that are served in the trooper's mess hall. Whatever they are, they make a satisfying splat noise when hitting armor, and get quite a bit of air when thrown.

Now, the revolting loafs are sailing through the air from every direction. Omega ducks behind Hunter as he decks one of the clones clear across the table. His other hand reaches back to lightly pat her upper arm, as though to make sure she's still there. Her heart soars at the gesture, and she grins as wide as her face allows while jumping on the table to chuck another handful of food at a trooper winding up to punch Echo. It smacks him in the cheek, distracting him long enough for Echo to land a left hook of his own.

Crosshair is still seated, ducking out of the way of projectiles while continuing to shovel food into his mouth. Omega watches with great amusement as Echo is kicked backwards— straight onto Crosshair's tray. His face begins cycling through the stages of grief, and ends on anger. She can't help but giggle at him slamming his fist on the table and whipping his ruined tray like a frisbee, hitting three separate troopers in the process. Though he seemed hesitant to engage earlier, he lunges at a clone that has Tech in a headlock, sending all three of them in a tangled heap.

Omega's adrenaline is pumping, heartbeat in her ears as she takes a running start and throws herself onto the shoulders of a clone. The room blurs as he whirls her around, hands trying grab her small arms. When he can't seem to whip her off, the clone suddenly bends forward at the hips, bucking Omega down onto the table. He obviously didn't expect her to be so light because she slips from his grasp and slides toward the end of the table, the air getting pushed out of her lungs. She lies still for a few seconds, breathing heavily.

What she's above makes her adrenaline high suddenly vanish. In the window that overlooks the cafeteria, Lama Su glares down at the food fight. Standing next to him is a military officer— high ranking by the looks of him. He sneers at the flying food and the troopers, saying something to Lama Su with his lip curled in disgust. She's seen his expression before on the faces of others that come to tour the facility. People revolted or offended by the very idea of clones. They're the type of people that seem little too interested in the decommissioning process. Omega has not idea who this is, but he looks official and that gives her a bad feeling.

With her breath back in her chest she rolls to her stomach just in time to see Echo sitting on the floor in the midst of the fighting. He also stares up at the officer and Lama Su, disgust across his own pale face. Does he know him? she wonders.

But as he is distracted by their spectators, the clone he knocked to the ground picks up an abandoned tray and raises it above his head.

"Echo, watch out!" Tech yells, reaching out to the cybernetic clone, but getting tackled to the ground before he can do anything. Omega's eyes widen in horror as the trooper puts his entire strength behind the tray as it swings, slamming into the side of Echo's head.

"Echo, no!" Omega screams as he pitches to the side, eyes already closed and mind dead to the world before he even hits the ground. She quickly presses a button on her commlink that alerts medical to her location and jumps off the table to weave through the troopers that have been momentarily distracted by the jarring sound of a metal tray hitting cybernetic implants.

Tech has fought his way to Echo's side, two fingers pressed against his neck as he yells out his name. The rest of the Bad Batch has taken notice of their fallen brother now, and suddenly the entire atmosphere turns serious. Wrecker isn't laughing anymore as he picks up clones and literally throws them out of the way to clear a path. Hunter and Crosshair, who were displaced to the other side of the caf, now run across the top of the tables, landing punches and throwing trays without breaking stride. Tech has hoisted Echo over his shoulder as the rest of their squad form a protective circle facing outward. Omega slips behind Hunter, unable to take her eyes off Echo's unresponsive face.

"We need to get him out of here," Tech says, his eyes flickering to every one of the cafeteria entrances. Probably doing a calculation of some sort for the quickest way to the med wing.

"Medical is on their way, we can meet them in the corridor," Omega offers, but the others don't seem to process that she's even there. She cowers at Wrecker's side, anxiety that they're upset with her eating away at her heart.

"Keep tight, let's move," Hunter says, and they all seem to know exactly what that means. Wrecker, Hunter, and Crosshair flank Tech on both sides and at his back as they run toward the exit.

They nearly pass the medical droid rushing toward the caf with a stretcher.

"Wait!" she yells, louder this time. Even if they're mad at her, at least she can try and make it up to them. This time, they actually listen to her. "This stretcher is for Echo,"

The boys look at one another and then seem to accept this. Tech gently places his unconscious brother on the stretcher as Nala Se comes rushing around the corner. The medical droid wastes no time and performing a quick scan.

"CT-1409 preliminary assessment: head trauma resulting in loss of consciousness. Patient is stable but require further testing."

"Echo isn't going to like that," Wrecker mutters.

Nala Se's blank eyes flicker from the unconscious clone to a food-covered Omega a she comes to a stop at the foot of Echo's stretcher. The medical assistant can already tell she is in for a big lecture after this stunt.

"Take CT-1409 to the medical-wing," the Kaminoan scientist says in her airy voice. "Omega, assist in the transport."

Omega places her hand on the side of the stretcher, avoiding the hard gaze of her mistress. "Yes, Nala Se."

The Kaminoan now looks at each of the others. "All clones involved in the cafeteria incident are required to be assessed for injuries," she says. "You will report to the lower level medical wing immediately."

A weak chorus of "Yes sirs," rings out and the Kaminoan continues down the hall toward the caf.

Omega starts pushing Echo's stretcher toward the medical wing, feeling the heavy footsteps of four shadows trailing behind her. Apparently a direct order wasn't enough for them.

"They won't let you guys in while he's getting tests run." Omega says while staring straight ahead. Looking at them now will fill her with too much shame.

"We're staying with him," Hunter replies as-a-matter-of-factly.

"You'll get in trouble."

"We're already in trouble, what's breaking one more rule?" Wrecker says.

Omega suddenly stops, forcing herself to look at them. They all have varying degrees of worry etched across the faces. She locks eyes with Hunter, hoping she can at least get him on her side. The last thing she wants is to be the reason they get in trouble again. "At least go get your check-up and clean the grease off your armor. If you show up with me, covered in food, then you'll have to change into medical gowns... and I'll get in trouble." Hunter's eyes soften slightly, but she can still see his hesitation. He doesn't want to get her in trouble, but this is also one of his brothers she's telling them to leave. She knows how deep loyalty runs for these men. "I promise I won't leave his side until you come to see him."

"We'll be back in ten minutes," Hunter says after a heavy sigh. "If he wakes up before then, comm us."

"You got it," Omega nods in understanding. Though the others don't seem too happy about leaving Echo, he gives him a pointed look and their shoulders slouch with compliance. Omega starts pushing the stretcher again and is halfway down the hall when Tech appears at her side.

"Echo does not do very well with medical tests," he explains, staring at Echo's prone figure rather than directly at Omega. "I recommend, from experience, to wait until he is conscious and aware of what is being done to him before performing any procedures outside of contactless scans."

Her eyes wander over the complex configuration of wires and tubes that wrap around Echo's head and body. She looks back to Tech, nodding.

"Thank you for telling me. I will do what I can to make sure he's okay."

Tech gives her a small smile, turning around, but then pausing. "Oh, and when he does wake, he might start swinging. So keep your distance and remove any possible projectiles." With that, he starts jogging after his brothers. She cannot tell if he was joking or not.

Omega lets out a shaky breath, holding back the urge to cry as she pushes Echo into the medical wing. AZ takes over as she ducks into the scrub room to change her soiled clothes.

Somehow trying to stand up for her friends has turned into one of them getting hurt— she didn't want that to happen she just... wanted to show them she was on their side. For a little while she did feel that incredible rush of belonging. But was it worth landing Echo in the medical bay?

Of course not. They'll never let me be one of them now.

It was dumb. Provoking a room full of troopers that already have it out for the Bad Batch was a thoughtless act. Nala Se is no doubt going to remind her of that and use it keep her sequestered from now on.

Omega emerges in fresh clothes as AZ is completing the brain scan. Echo is still unconscious.

"Is he gonna be alright, AZ?"

AZ's bug eyes always make him look like he's pitying whoever he's looking at. "CT-1409's"

"Echo," Omega interrupts him. "You can call him Echo."

The droid pauses, taking a moment to process that request.

"Patient CT-1409, a.k.a. Echo's scans are clear of skull fractures or bone contusions. My preliminary assessment is that he has sustained a mild concussion consistent with blunt force trauma. He will require a brain tissue scan to ensure there is no bleeding or clotting,"

"Good," Omega lets out a sigh of relief. "That's good."

"Your services will not be required further, Omega. You are free to return to your assigned duties."

She glares at the droid, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm staying, AZ. I promised the guys."

"But mistress Nala Se summoned you to the sub-level medical wing. You must go."

"No!" There's no way she's taking orders from a AZ. Even if he is her friend. "I'm staying here until he wakes up."

AZ shakes his head, his unexpressive droid face somehow looking disappointed. He hovers over to Echo to begin performing the tissue scan, and Omega goes to look for a blanket or something to make their patient more comfortable.

The distinct whirring of the scan is interrupted by a sharp gasp. Omega turns as Echo starts to flail.

"No! Get them off," he gasps, his arms swinging but hitting nothing. There's a clouded look in his panicked eyes as they frantically search the room.

"But my tests are not yet complete," the droid tries to explain while continuing to move closer. Omega is already running across the room, shoving AZ to the side.

"Echo, Echo, it's—" his unfocused gaze shifts from the corner filled with bacta tanks to her. "It's okay. It's me, Omega." His chest rises and falls as though he's been running for miles, and she raises her hands so he can clearly see them. "I understand." As his breathing slows, she realizes that AZ must have attached a heart and respiration monitor to Echo while she was changing. She slowly reaches down to pull them off of him. "I don't like being hooked up to their machines either."

A few brief memories float passively through her mind. Wires and needles and tubes coming from various places on her body. The sticky feeling of bacta on her skin and gathering between her fingers and toes. Silent tears streaming down her face every time she saw the instrument cart was full for the day.

Omega releases him from the monitors and looks up at him. Echo is still coming out of his panic, but he seems calmer now. He looks at her as though she has seven eyes and two noses, but at least he finally sees her.

"Hello CT-1409," AZ pipes up.

"His name is Echo," Omega reminds him.

"My name is AZ-34521189..." as he drones on with his serial identifier, Echo and Omega exchange glances. She offers him a comforting smile and though he doesn't really react, he does scoot himself further from AZ and closer to her, which is good enough for now. When AZ finishes, his body spins around on its axis, and Wrecker's voice suddenly rings out through the med wing.

"Ha! Told you he's alive!" The rest of the squad, now clean of grease, stroll in. "You owe me two credits," Wrecker says, jabbing a finger at Crosshair. They seem surprisingly relaxed, most of them nodding or even smiling at Omega as they gather around the foot of Echo's bed. The fact they even acknowledge her is unexpected.

AZ turns to the rest of them to give his assessment. In the mean time, Omega turns her attention back to Echo. His eyes aren't glazed over anymore but he still seems uneasy. Definitely uncomfortable sitting on a medical table. Omega has overheard the rumors of what happened on to him— how Echo was an ARC trooper that got captured and experimented on. It's obvious from his chemically bleached skin and the complex assortment of cybernetics that he's been through a certain kind of hell. But judging from how he reacted to a simple scan and heart monitor, she cannot imagine how bad it must have really been.

She decides to take the risk and lays her hand gently over his. His wide brown eyes look from the rest of his squad to her hand atop his, and then finally to her. Echo gives her an appreciative nod and a slight smile. Warmth fills her body again, stronger than it was when they were joining her in her food fight pursuits.

The young medical assistant looks to the others now, only to find Hunter has been ignoring AZ's grand reveal that they are genetically defective and is instead watching her. The sergeant's lips form a curious half-smile as he watches her pull her hand away from their injured brother. The giddy warmth in her chest builds even more. They aren't mad at her after all. In fact, she gets the feeling that they might even like her. Or, at least, acknowledge her existence-- which is progress from earlier.

Omega realizes that maybe grand gestures shouldn't be her approach in trying to get them to notice her. Maybe just showing them how much she truly cares about them is enough.

Definitely no more food fights... unless one of the others is the one to initiate it, of course. If that's the case, Omega will be the second one to throw the greasy Kamino caf loafs.

#not me whipping out one shots when I should be working on stuff that's due soon #lets call this a warmup exercise #Kate writes #insomnia check: it's 1am #cw: ptsd #cw: panic attack #the bad batch #the bad bath aftermath #s1e01: aftermath #echo #tech #hunter #wrecker #crosshair #omega #echo whump #echo ptsd

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urlocalbunny · 4 years ago

Note

Headcanons of sleeping with the guys

Aaron:

If you're the type to like to sleep far away or turning your backs to each other, forget about it. He's going to hold you CLOSE. Arms AND legs, and he sniffs your neck and cheek.

"you're so cute :3" *smoooooooch* "i love you ;3 sleep tight." You're gonna sleep tightened in fact. Doesn't let go and if you complain about the heat he's gonna tell you to do it like him and sleep naked.

He usually tells you some happy stories and talks to you A LOT if you're not willing/can't sleep yet. Lots of headpats and kisses. If you return them to you he's gonna go silent and smile shyly.

If you ever run your hands through his hair while he tries to sleep, he's going to look at you with so much love :3

Sometimes holds you facing him and his legs and arms latch onto you but he REALLY holds your thighs. Your bodies fit perfectly no matter how tf you sleep and he's a heavy sleeper unless he's watching you to make sure you're safe.

He's the calmest among all when he wakes up. He moves slowly in bed, stretches and smiles at you cutely, plating a kiss on your forehead and grabbing his things to shower. His face looks puffy and cute.

Overall a cuddle bug.

Raphael:

He's mostly the small spoon no matter how tall you are. He holds you softly if he isn't, a hand in the waist, leaning into you and sighing in contempt.

If you feel like facing him, he's going to keep his eyes trained on you and ask you many things while you kill some time before bed.

He seems like he kind of knows if you're looking into his eyes too, so you just keep looking bc he's so pwetty i-

He usually likes to just stay in bed forever if he can but it's not that he's lazy, he's actually very active. It's just that he prefers cuddling over the other stuff.

He's a light sleeper, and he mumbles sweet nothings while you're together. That's because he keeps talking so much with his runny mouth lol and he doesn't realize he slept iabcksnjc I'm laughing chemically sorry reader.

He smiles a little if the day was really good too. Caress him when he wakes up for an extra big smile right before he wakes up and kisses your forehead.

Beliath:

Turn your back to the side, you'll feel him there like a tick. Turn to the other, he'll latch onto your back AGAIN. Turn on your stomach, he'll lay under you. don't turn your back to the ceiling, you'll probably get crushed by himbo material.

He LOVES to spoon you no matter how big or small you are. His cheeks get crushed against your back or head and he sighs in contempt. He gives lots of kisses and almost dies in happiness if you scritch scratch his head before turning the lights off.

The type to keep a hand on your chest no matter if you have big titties or if you have titties at all. He just likes to feel your heartbeat under his palm. It calms him knowing you're right there.

When that guy sleeps, he sLEEPS. Stab him, scream, jump on him, he won't wake up. If you move your back tho... ">:( Where are you going??????? Huh???????"

He smiles openly when you both wake up and he LOVES to draw shapes on your thighs and put his cold gremlin foot on you as soon as you're distracted.

Tells you how much he loves you as you both get ready for the day. Tries his best to cuddle as much as he possibly can before bed too. If you massage him, he'll sleep even better. He be carrying this house on his back with Aaron and that takes a toll on them.

Vladimir:

THIS SLY RACCOON LMAAAAAO. You won't live a good day when you start sleeping together. He sleeps in starfish position like he's planning on shifting realities with the crow method ajxnkancjs you'll fall off the bed.

Kicks the covers in his sleep and you wake up all startled to find him fighting the gods above with the cover tangled on his hand. Moves like a pancake and plasters himself on the bed. Throws pillows aside and flips them like a sandwich maker in a busy day bc of the cold surface too.

But... That's bc he's used to sleeping alone. When he sleeps with you near him, his body kinda reminds itself of when he slept with his younger siblings and they hogged his covers (so he's used to not using any).

When you start to pet his head in his sleep to try and appease him with his nightmares too, he will automatically cuddle into you, under your chin. If you're tall, his feet might dangle off the bed so he curls into you.

From there on, you'll sleep tight because he hugs you as soon as he falls asleep. Kind of tucks you in in his sleep and kisses your forehead from time to time.

Sometimes he still plays sandwich making pancake bc anything slightly warm for him except you is like jumping on fire and dancing with three coats on while satan watches. He likes cold beds.

8/10 just wait for baby.

Ethan:

The polar opposite to vlad. He fucking hogs the covers and curls up against the wall as if you're some sort of plague but that's how he sleeps EVERY day.

He loves you, it's just how he sleeps. He's just a small hedgehog. He'll uncurl from his ball of distaste the more you hug his back. Then he'll turn around and curl himself by your side. He'll look into your eyes a little, then grin as if you're some silly person for sleeping with him.

Then... He'll tackle you. He keeps a tight grip on your waist and he doesn't let go even if you want to pee. He'll come with and wait by the door. Then he'll walk with you and he'll tackle you again.

You wake up all hot in the morning but he can be sweating and he doesn't care AT ALL. He'll keep you close to him. You mad? Be on your underwear or something.

When he comes home from parties, he sighs and keeps his eyes on you as he wonders how the hell did he come from a person with a very good reason to never open up to anybody to a person who has someone very precious to him waiting for him. On his bed. Sleeping like a little ball of fluff.

He'll curl to the side of the wall again, just with you as the little spoon under the covers and smiling this time.

Ivan:

The most delicate honestly. He drapes an arm around you and kisses your forehead. From there on he sleeps easily. In case he wakes up at night (which is a few times, he's a light sleeper), He turns you if you're looking too crooked and keeps your head on the pillow or on his arm.

Ivan prefers to sleep close to you and he doesn't move too much, so it feels like he's not there when you wake up but then you feel his soft snores tickle your neck or move your hair.

Catboy enjoys covering your heads with the sheets when the night falls and you already cleaned up. He tickles you if you don't mind, or if you hate being tickled he just cuddles you and tells you how much he appreciates your company. His minty breath and body lotion smell nice.

He hates if someone abruptly wakes you up and he really will send them off if they wake you up. Aaron is the only one who can get in bc he's never noisy or mean.

He will always tuck you in if he's not coming with you first and he'll ask you if it's okay for him to leave if he thinks you're down. He'd never leave the bed if you say so.

He snores a little but it's small snores, then he wakes up because he's scared of the snores. Then he realizes it was him and goes back to sleep. He doesn't notice you know it.

#moonlight lovers #sfwbunny #moonlight lovers headcanons #bunny's writing #moonlight lovers fanfiction #ml aaron #ml raphael #ml beliath #ml vladimir #ml ethan #ml ivan

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fan-art-ic · 4 years ago

Text

Don't Stop Here

She's back. Anne is really back on Earth. She can hardly believe it.

(Picks up immediately after the episode ends) (ao3 link in reblog)

Anne can hardly believe it. Cars honked around her and every breath is heavy with unnatural smog. She meets eyes with a human stranger, who lifts a phone very quickly and stares bug-eyed at her. Not at her, no, at her family. She turns to Hop-pop, Sprig, and Polly, all scratched, bruised, tired, afraid, and looking at her with trust in their eyes. Hop-pop croaks and coughs and Anne notices her frog family's skin is graying. She has to get them out of here. Off the hood of the car, over five lanes of traffic, hopped over the guardrail, down the hill, through a sparse copse of trees, to the sidewalk under the bridge and-

"Anne?" A pink hand tugs on her wrist. "Anne, stop. Please." Her feet stumble to a stop and her socked foot lands on something sharp and cutting and she gasps.

"Anne!"

Two sets of hands catch her torso, and she faintly feels a wet touch pulling at her ankle. Her family carefully let her down, so she lands heavily on her butt instead of her nose. Anne's next breath is a punch of air and her lungs brighten with pain as she loses control of her inhales and exhales. Her eyes hurt and burn. When she wipes a dirty hand across her face, she winces as hot tears and snot sting her injuries. A light weight settles onto her back and rubs in a circular motion. Anne clings to the sensation. Between sputtering breaths, she begins to hear. "-in...and out...in...and out," Hop-pop's soothing, raspy voice repeats and then she can hear Sprig humming. It's a song Wally wrote about a silly snail getting lost and he had sung it at her Frog of the Year party. A laugh bubbles up into a sob and Anne reaches out her arms to pull all three of them close.

"I love you guys," she chokes out, and Polly pats her cheek.

"We love you too, Anne," says the polliwog, normally so energetic now wrung out and too bright-eyed. She needs to pull herself together. Anne releases her grip and her family takes a step back. She runs her hands through her hair and shakes her head, dust and dirt and surprisingly long twigs falling to the broken concrete.

"Alright, froggy fam," she begins, "I'm going to take you to meet my human fam." Sprig whoops, but he's clearly flagging.

"Yay!..."

Anne grimaces and looks at Hop-pop. The old, orange frog meets her gaze steadily, but she can tell how much he is missing his cane. "Hop-pop, you got Polly, I got Sprig?" He nods. "Alright. Let's make our way to the highway, follow along till we hit an exit, follow that till we hit town, figure out where we are, call my parents. Sound good?" No one protests and Anne helps Sprig up to her shoulder as Hop-pop collects Polly.

They're maybe ten minutes into their walk, and every step is a jolt to her nervous system. Her skin feels prickly, her jaw too tight, her muscles ache like never before. The pressure of her Newtopian breastplate, once reassuring, weighs her every step like a lodestone. The heron-leather straps pinch at the underside of her arms. Sprig's cool, damp skin is refreshing against the back of her neck, but it's not slimy enough and it concerns Anne. She bites her lip and tries to time her steps so that her sneaker hits the rocks and roots, while her socked-foot hits bare earth. She isn't always successful, and everything is starting to throb. Her temples pulse loudly in her head and her knees are weak and her mouth is parched.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, Polly..." Hop-pop murmurs behind her. She can't see him, but she hears the dragging footsteps crunch the dry grass and the low comfortings of the grandfather to the polliwog. A stabbing pain shoots through her chest, and Anne forces her legs into a march. Focuses on the act of raising her thigh, swinging her calf forward, shifting her weight, repeat ad infinitum.

In seventh grade health class, there had been only one day dedicated to 'mental health issues' and something mentioned was meditative breathing. In multiple P.E. classes, Anne heard the teachers talk about making sure to breath while exercising. One, two, three. In. One, two, three. Out. Anne can do this.

The clouds parted a bit as they walked and the sun is nearly blinding Anne, as she squints at the sign. DALY STREET EXIT, it read in giant white text on green. Okay, so now they can get out of the weird in-between highway area they've been hiking. She points at it. "This way."

Something is mumbled behind her back.

"Huh?" She stops to turn and looks at Hop-pop. "What's up?" The elderly frog's face is twisted in a very non-confidence inspiring way.

"Well...Anne, I can't help but notice you don't have your backpack. Or...or your phone. So-" All Anne could hear was a piercing, ringing sound. Her hands clenched and unclenched.

"Right," says Anne, interrupting whatever the old frog had been saying. "Right. I don't have my backpack or phone." She blinks rapidly and Hop-pop's brow furrows deeper grooves. Her fingernails dig grooves of equal depth into her palms. "Okay, so," she claps her hands and ignores Sprig and Polly startle, "we will keep going. We will find someone kind and nice who will be willing to call my parents. End of plan."

"Great plan," Sprig yawns in her ear, and she can't help the yawn in return. It stretches her neck muscles and she yawns again for good measure. Polly yawns, then Hop-pop, then her and Polly at the same time. They all smile and the moment of brevity gets the family going again, the plan -no matter how little Anne believes in it herself- solidly in mind and the goal spurring them on. Not too much further now.

The sign for 7-11 flickers and there is a closed down Redbox sitting stoutly next to a ash-tray/trash can. The ad in the window advertises Berry Glam Blitz Bomb and a two for four hotdogs sale. Her stomach rumbles.

Her family is crowded together outside the storefront, and Anne doesn't know what to do. She's loathe to leave the Plantars by themselves, but maybe the cashier won't be the most cynical soul in Los Angeles. Then the frogs won't go under the risk of wandering the streets, talking to strangers. She can't bring them in though, what if the employee freaks out (like...any reasonable person confronted by talking frog people would). A clammy, orange hand taps her arm twice. She looks down.

"We'll be okay for five minutes, Anne," reassures Hop-pop. "Hand me Sprig." She doesn't hand him Sprig so much as the pink frog melts off her back and flops down next to his grandfather, but either way transfer successful. Okay now it's just time to interact with a human who isn't one of her two childhood best friends. She can't be totally out of practice right?

Marcy's eyes had been so wide when she died. Her pretty, dark brown eyes glittering from the light of Andrias' sword. From the flashing blue of the portal home. From tears.

Anne swallows roughly and steps toward the entrance. She scolds herself when the self-automated doors startle her, and she glances around the store. Someone tall and bald by the coolers, someone on the phone in the back, besides them and Anne the place is empty. Well, and the cashier. She approaches the register before she can one-eighty out the stupid doors, and she clears her throat. The cashier, a young guy with bright green and black hair and a name tag reading 'Jared', looks up from his phone.

"Hey-o, ready to check out?"

"Um, no actually," Anne starts and stops. What is she supposed to say? "I...dropped my phone and it cracked badly," she lies. "I was supposed to meet up with my mom but I can't get the dang thing to turn on." She laughs, short and high-pitched, rubbing her neck. "Is there like, a store phone I could borrow to call her?"

Jared raises his eyebrows. "No, there isn't a store phone. If you buy something I could exchange dollars for quarters, I think there's a phone booth near here." The lights are buzzing really loudly, Anne notices. She takes a deep breath.

"Sorry, that doesn't work. Could I borrow your phone?" She sees how the older guy assesses her. She sees her dirty torn school skirt, her scorched copper armor, the twigs that she can't stop finding in her hair. "Or could I give you her number? Please, I just want to get back to my mom." Jared's frown softens and his mouth opens to speak, but is cut off by a voice behind Anne.

"Annie Bone-choy?" Her neck complains at the speed she turns to look. The bald person she saw earlier. Face contorted in open surprise, finger pointed in her direction, he says in a nasally SoCal accent, "Your parents have been looking everywhere for you."

"Do I know you?" Anne asks. Bald guy shakes his head. "No. I like your parents restaurant, amazing noodles by the way, and they have your missing posters all over the front. Yours and two other girls."

"I thought you lost your phone and were meeting up with your mom," Jared unhelpful interjects. Anne looks between both of them.

"Can I please use someone's phone to call my mom?" The two adults look at each other.

"Tell me your mom's number," says Jared tentatively. Anne rattles off the ten digit code with ease. She remembers sitting in the kitchen and her mom helping her arrange plastic magnet numbers in the order of her cell phone number. Jared puts the phone on speaker and the dialing tone begins to ring. Once, twice, three times, four...

"Hi! This is Madee Boonchuy. Not here right now, please leave a message!" The messaging system beeps and Anne just shakes her head at Jared. He ends the call.

"Can you please try again?" She pleads. Jared frowns, but does as requested. The dialing rings again. And gets voice-mail, again.

"I could call the restaurant," the bald guy offers. "It's not exactly rush hour but they are open right now, right?" Anne blinks away the stinging in her eyes. She has no idea what time it is, no idea what day or month or even if it's the same year. Who knows how Amphibia time lines up with Earth time?

"Can you? Please?" He nods and pulls out his phone. A minute while he finds the contact, and now for the third time, the phone rings on speaker. Anne knows what they say about third tries, and she crosses her fingers tightly.

"Hello? Delivery or pick-up?" Familiar, accented English, and Anne has to resist falling to the floor.

"Mom," Anne whispers in Thai, and the voice on the line speaks rapidly.

"Anne? Sweetheart? Oh my god, Anne? Anne?"

"It's me Mom. It's Anne," Anne sniffs and hiccups.

Some sharp, unintelligible yelling comes out the receiver, and there is a rustling and slamming sound before Anne's mom replies, "Where are you?"

Anne blue screens for a second. "I'm..." She struggles to remember. "I'm at a 7-11."

"What? Where? What street?"

"Daly Street," Jared pipes up.

"Who is that?" Her mother says sharply.

"That's just the cashier, he was, he was helping me. Well and another guy who comes to the restaurant apparently? I uh, he says he recognized me from my posters, huh, I didn't realize I'd have any," Anne rambles.

"I'm coming to you, Anne," Her mom promises. "I'm going to hug you so much. I'm coming to you. I have to hang up now, to get in the car, but do not go. Please."

"I promise," says Anne, and when her mom ends the call, she starts crying.

She exits the 7-11 once she gets the bald guy and Jared to distract each other (i.e. purchasing a bottled soda), and she spots the Plantars immediately. They're on top of a parked USPS truck. When Anne peers around the vehicle to see the other side of the street, she spies the mailman making his way towards the truck. Crap.

"Guys!" She hisses through clenched teeth. She raps her knuckles against the truck's side and hear Polly yelp. "Guys, get off the truck!" A moment later, Hop-pop and Sprig land beside her, Polly in her brother's arms. Anne pulls them over to the Redbox and huddles on the side opposite to the store entrance. She steps in front of them, hoping her body will shield enough of the frogs so nobody looks closer.

"Your mom is gonna be here soon?" Sprig asks. Anne nods.

"Yep, she'll...she'll be here soon." There's no response, and there is a take-a-tab paper taped to the trash can advertising singing lessons, and it's all Anne can do to not remember the time Sasha threw a karaoke party and they all started singing badly and together, and Anne blinks and keeps talking.

"My mom will come, and she's probably in her mini-van, oh man she's gonna tear through like twenty stop signs and scare other drivers so bad," she snorts, "and maybe there'll be a loose water bottle or a chip bag in the car, and oh man, you guys don't know what sour cream and onion chips are I can't wait to show you-"

"Anne," Hop-pop cuts her off. "Don't forget to breathe." She sucks in a deep breath and feels bile creeping up her throat. She tries to swallow but her mouth is so dry it just hurts. She can't imagine how her frog family's is feeling compared to her, they must be feeling so much worse than her, and they haven't said anything yet. Anne exhales forcefully. When a hand squeezes around her own, she squeezes back reassuringly.

They all jump as a dark red mini-van screeches to a halt in front of the 7-11. The driver exits the car, not wasting time to even park, and runs towards them. "Anne!"

"Mom!!!" Anne cries and she takes only a few steps before she's barreled over.

"Anne, oh my god, thank the heavens it's you! Anne, Anne, oh my baby," Anne's mom sobs into her shoulder before pulling back. Anne stares at her mother. Lets her eyes trace the deepened wrinkles, notice the shining, brown eyes the same shade as her own, the beauty mark on her chin. Her mom's glasses are new. Anne can't remember what they'd been, but now her mom wears tortoiseshell frames.

"I like your glasses," is the first thing to tumble out of Anne's mouth, and she nearly slaps herself. Her mom laughs wetly.

"Oh, Anne, oh, I've missed you so much." Her mother folds her back into her arms. Anne hugs back as tightly as she can for a second before her mom stiffens with a surprised grunt. "And you're so much stronger, when did that happen?"

Anne smiles. "I'll tell you about it." She steps back and grabs her mom by the shoulders. They're the same height now. "I'll tell you all about it." And that means... "Mom, let me introduce you to the Plantars," Anne steps to her mom's side and reveals her froggy family.

Her mother gasps and says something in Thai that Anne doesn't know. She would bet it's one of the worse swear words. "I know it's a shock, cuz, well, two foot tall talking frogs," says Anne and motions for the trio to come a bit closer. "But they protected me, fed me, and loved me while I was stranded in their world." Hop-pop shuffles the closes with Sprig and Polly poking their heads out behind him.

Hop-pop extends his hand. "My name is Hopadiah Plantar, it's an honor to meet you Mrs. Boonchuy." Her mom looks down at the wrinkly, orange hand and then back at Anne. She nods encouragingly and her mom steels herself before meeting the hand with her own.

She gingerly shakes it. "Pleasure to meet you...Hopadiah," Anne's mom says his name carefully. "My daughter says you kept her safe?" Hop-pop nods.

"To the best of my ability," and his face gains a wry look and he rubs the back of his neck. "When she and my grandkids weren't off chasing trouble."

Anne's mom smiles tentatively. "I'm sure. Are these your grandkids here?" Sprig comes out behind Hop-pop's back and puts out his hand.

"I'm Sprig Plantar! And this is-" A loud honk interrupts him and everyone in the group startles, moving to look at the source. A silver BMW is stuck behind her mom's mini-van and the one-way street doesn't give any wiggle around room. A shout filters out of the sports car. "MOVE YOUR CAR!" Except with a lot more swears. Anne's mom sighs.

"Introductions later, let's get in the car," she instructs and everyone moves.

All the frogs hesitate as they get closer, Sprig even flinching when Anne hauls open the back seat door with a slam. She gestures inside. "C'mon guys, it's just like a wagon," Anne says. Polly hops in first and settles into the closest middle row seat. She bounces a couple times.

"It's comfy," the polliwog reports. The jerk in the BMW honks again, even longer. Sprig and Hop-pop pile in and Anne closes the door behind them. She gets into the passenger seat and the feeling of air conditioning against her skin is like. Magic wind. Super relaxing. Like insane luxury. Oh, Anne missed technology.

"Buckle up." Her mom clicks her seat belt into the lock and starts pulling away immediately. Leaving Anne to explain what 'buckle up' means, and what a seat belt is, and no she doesn't know when they were invented. The questions continue as the mini-van pulls onto the highway, but the group soon quiets down. Anne blinks slowly and looks outside the window. The trees and billboards and other cars pass by her so quickly, so much quicker than Bessie could ever go. A pang strikes her heart as Anne realizes Bessie will be all alone. She hopes the Plantar's family snail is taken care of while they're gone. Anne looks away from the window as nausea grips her throat. She's almost home. She can hold off on falling apart for just a little longer.

"Anne, honey, are you awake? We're home."

Anne blinks and she squeezes her eyes tight and yawns loudly and long. She hadn't realized she dozed off. "I'm...home." She opens the door and doesn't let her twinging feet deter her from getting a good look at her home. The small bushes that lined the driveway, the slightly dented mailbox, the umbrella her dad always left outside the red door. Anne drinks it all in.

For the past several months she had been in a world with fantastical flora and fauna and shocking experiences every day, but Anne feels dizzy at the sight of her home. Her eyes catch on every detail, the once too-familiar not familiar enough. The bristly door mat; the unpolished brass numbers: 301; the creaky porch step; the small, pink, clay owl figurine Anne had given to her mom for Mother's Day in fifth grade and sat tucked in the corner. Her eyelashes are sticky with tears.

"Your house is SOOOOOOOOO BIG!" Anne snorts and is grateful for Sprig. She turns around to look at the small, pink frog.

"It's pretty nice! I've loved growing up here. Three-oh-one Silver Spring Lane." A gobsmacked look.

"You have springs made of silver?" Sprig's jaw drops. Hop-pop's head pokes out of the van.

"What's this I hear of silver springs?"

Surprisingly, it's Anne's mom who answers. She laughs, and it soothes Anne, before saying, "No, Hopadiah. It's just a nice name for a road." Anne tunes out what Hop-pop replies in favor of turning back to the door.

The metal door handle is hot to touch, searing from the oppressive California heat. She breathes out in a harsh whoosh and forces herself to yank the door open. It slams against the wall and the hinges squeak. Anne hears a sound of protest from her mom, but she can't acknowledge it when there's a bullet of fluff running towards the door.

"DOMINO!" The cat jumps into Anne's arms and she catches her, swinging Domino around and around and gosh, will Anne ever stop crying today? She hides her tears in Domino's soft, white belly, and laughs as the cat wiggles around to climb up her shoulders. Domino wraps around her neck and rubs Anne's check with her cute, little face.

Anne collapses to her knees and she pulls her cat around and holds her so carefully and so, so close. Domino allows this longer than ever before, but soon she does squirm and fall to the carpet on all four feet. She chirps and purrs vacuum-like. Anne's hands move on their own accord, stroking down Domino's back, scratching all her sweet spots, reacquainting herself with her Domino, her beautiful angel baby.

"Anne, could you move your reunion a few feet more into the hallway? So we can come in?" Her mom says, her tone telling Anne she's smiling. Anne kisses her baby's head one more time before standing up and moves to the side. Ugh, her knees hurt from carpet burn. That's one thing she hadn't missed.

"Sprig, Polly, Hop-pop! Remember the killapillar?" Anne scoops up Domino and holds her out. "This is Domino One!" Sprig steps closer, squinting. He pokes at Domino's paw and she mrrps! at him. He flinches back for a second before staring deep into her eyes. Anne watches this stare-off with no small amount of amusement.

Eventually, Sprig asks, "So this Domino won't kill us for dinner?" Anne shakes her head and a leaf drifts from her hair.

"Nope!"

Sprig oh so slowly reaches a finger to Domino's long-haired back. "Oh!" He says, curling his fingers through the fur. "She's even softer than peatmoss."

Polly joins her brother and jumps up and down on her new, little legs. "Let me pet her!" Anne leans back down, but Domino wriggles out her grip and runs down the hallway, disappearing around the kitchen corner. Polly pouts. "Aw! I wanted to touch Domino One."

Anne pats her yellow bow. "Don't worry. There's plenty of time for that later."

"I believe a good use of time right now," Anne's mom says, still lingering in the open door, "would be for you to change out of your dirty clothes. Go take a shower."

Anne stares at her mom stunned. "Oh my god...," she whispers. "I shall finally be clean." Sprig laughs.

"Are there no showers where you come from?" Anne's mom asks Hop-pop as Anne still revels in the very idea of pressurized water.

"I can't say I know what a shower-whatsit is, but we did bathe," Hop-pop says archly, half at Anne's mom and half at her. Her mom nods understandingly. Then frowns.

"Do you have any spare clothes with you?" She asks and all the Plantars go wide-eyed.

"We..." Hop-pop can't finish his sentence hands twisting his ascot. Sprig looks morose and he's holding onto his slingshot tightly. Polly is similar, tugging at her frayed and dirty yellow bow. Anne's heart twinges, and she cuts in.

"We didn't exactly have time to pack our wardrobes when we came, Mom," she says. "I have piggy bank money, we can go shopping guys! You guys have to see the mall. This time, my treat," she tries to cheer up the little frogs.

Sprig and Polly perk up at the mention of visiting the mall, but Hop-pop and her mom both protest at once.

"Anne, that's mighty kind of you, but-"

"Anne, that's very generous, but-"

Both stop and her mom motions for the frog to continue. Hop-pop waits a second more before saying, "Anne, you don't need to spend your savings on us. We can make do if you just show us to a wash bucket and a needle with thread. When these get worn out, we'll cross that river when we come to it." Anne's mom then lays a hand on Hop-pop's shoulder, slightly crouching to reach. Hop-pop nods at her.

Her mom smiles before saying to him, "I can certainly show you the washing machine, but we'll figure out another set of clothes for you." Her gaze casts over Sprig, Polly, and Anne. "For all of you. And Anne," her mom walks up to her and she smiles with glistening eyes, "when did you grow up so much?" She brings Anne into a tight hug before releasing her. And boops her nose. Anne squeals. Her mom smiles. "I will pay for the shopping. Now!" She claps. "Shoes off."

Everyone looked down at their feet and noticed the frogs didn't have any. "Ah well, shoes and...shoe off. Anne, what happened to your shoe?"

Anne waves it off. "Lost it a few months ago." Her mother grumbles and Anne suspects she'll be getting a new pair of sneakers in the near future. Then it occurs to her, "Where's Dad?"

"He had to stay to make sure the delivery went smoothly since Jackson quit and everyone else messes it up," her mom explains while running her hands through Anne's hair.

Anne gasps. "No! Not Jackson."

"Yes, Jackson," replies her mom. Her fingers tug painfully through Anne's hair and come away holding a handful of leaves and twigs. "Is there an entire forest in your head? Now off you go, shower. Get the dirt off," she commands. Anne rolls her eyes.

"Yes, Mom," Anne says in Thai and kisses her cheek. She looks to the Plantars. "You guys okay with my mom showing you around the house? Show you somewhere to sit and some water?"

Hop-pop nods and Polly wiggles. "I have a mighty THIRST," she yells. Anne giggles.

"Well, alright froggy fam. See you on the flip side," and she starts to head up the steps, her fingers trailing the railing, when a cough causes her to pause. She glances back.

"Anne..." Sprig says, "welcome home."

Tears spill over her cheeks and Anne half-falls down the stairs to give him a tight hug. Quickly, other froggy arms surround the two and are joined by a pair of human arms. All together, all safe, all alive. Anne takes a deep breath, and exhales heavily. She's back home.

#amphibia fic #amphibia #anne boonchuy #hopadiah plantar #sprig plantar #polly plantar #mrs. boonchuy #amphibia season three #my writing #if you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this pls consider reblogging

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yanderecandystore · 4 years ago

Note

Rip Tumblr D-do you have any dragon ocs that might kidnap their s/o? Also I know that this is a stupid question but can I call myself Cold anon? ;-;

Hello 🍨 Cold ❄️!! I'm really glad you sent me this request!

The current app that I use for writing is bugging out a lot, so I'm sorry if there are many grammar errors and mistakes here and there.

And uh... Cold? I think I fucked up your ask? I think I got a little too excited and went in a different direction?? If you don't like it I understand, I could always do another one 😳😋

TW/Tags: Guess who is being an emotional ball once again?? Me! Yey! Send help! // look, I'm sorry but, low-key? This is edginess overload lol (medieval bitch times, which by that I mean: dark times with terrible people in it) // deaths // abuse of power // Reader said: eat the rich // non-binary reader just because // cursing // slight plot twist? But, like, bad plot twist // soft dragon boi

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

You curious little thing - [Yandere!Dragon x Reader - Short Fanfiction]:

" Deep in the forest, up in the mountains, legend says that a dragon sleeps deep within the caves. And as the old story goes, gold awaits inside his domain, but only those courageous enough to enter the deep cave and defeat the dragon, would be able to take the creature's treasure.

Many have persuaded the quest of defeating said dragon, yet no one ever came back to tell the story.

And while you sit at the comfort of your small cottage reading about the old tales of the dragon's cave, you can't help but consider the story to be just that, a story. A piece of fiction made to scare the local children away from the mountains, or to enchant those that were easily invested into these types of stories.

It seems like you're one of those that were fascinated by the old tales. Regardless of if you find it true or not. The old tales still hold a mysterious charm that manages to keep you intrigued no matter what age you re-read them.

Tales of the forest spirits protecting their land with mischievous wit, tales of monsters that crawled out of your bed to cause nightmares on the simple minded, tales of mighty dragons who could easily rule the world if they so pleased to.

Yet they didn't. Either because they didn't want to, or maybe they really didn't exist. Who knows, right [Y/N]? Not that you, a simple commoner, would know any better.

Although, from the tales you read, isn't always the common folk the ones to first encounter these things?

It always ends bad, but still.

A commoner would be the first one to be affected by the wrath of such supernatural creatures.

However, as stated before, there is no way of knowing if such a thing is real or not, right? It's been eons since the last time someone even mentioned a dragon's presence in your kingdom, and it's been centuries that the concepts of dragons had fallen into the mythological category.

There hasn't been a single person to mention the beast's names in years. There was no visible way of them being remotely real, right? That sounded absurd.

But of course, like all tales are written, your's seem to have reached the beginning of your own personal adventure when the king mentioned the need of soldiers willing to face the beast inside the cave, who was presumably hibernating throughout this whole time.

And of course, the public had only laughed at this sort of news. You see, your king's authority over the entire land has been dangling by a thin thread. The taxes, the frauds, the imminent wars threatening to occur at any second now, has helped a small portion of people to start questioning if not downright rebelling against him and his reign of terror.

The revolution was rising slowly, yet something needed to push it forward, the straw that broke the camel's back.

"What could it be?" You might be wondering.

How about kidnapping and force recruitment with the help of blackmailing? Specifically targeting the poorest people in the kingdom and taking their family members hostage if they don't comply?

Sounds so evil that you may think it's bullshit right? So inhumane, that the villain of this story might as well be your crazy king, right?

Oh, [Y/N]. You're absolutely right, yet a little bit wrong considering that even if such an evil act sounds absurd, it's absolutely real. It's part of your reality now.

And even if your king is a vile creature of pure hatred and deserves to be fed to the rats, by being a terrible ruler, husband, and father- You were soon about to learn that there are worse, more powerful forces that can easily overpower the insanity of that sad, pathetic evil man.

To your dismay, your family was one of the chosen ones to suffer from this. Because of poverty, you and your father lived in the outskirts of the kingdom. It was perfect for the king and his soldiers, as you and your father lived distant from the main town, if any of you two ever die on the process of going into the beast's cave, or disobey the king's orders, no one would notice if you two were suddenly wiped from the face of the Earth.

And of course, holding hostage just one person was easier than multiple family members. Although your king was absolutely insane if not completely psychotic, you could at least understand how he moved his pieces in this massive game of chess.

I mean, yes, you understand his reasoning. Still doesn't mean he is right.

Soldiers didn't wait too long to show up and try to force your father to go with them. But you didn't take none of that, you wouldn't let your dying father be taken by them.

You screamed, you shout, you let venom spill out of your mouth by each profanity you threw at the soldiers and the king they claimed to serve. It didn't take long before the general noticed that you were one of the rascals forming a rebellion. Well, you didn't really need to be officially part of the revolution, just disagreeing was enough to make the general decide to take you instead of your old father.

You can still remember how he was trying to scream his lungs out, to stop the soldiers somehow.

This was it, right? The day, for you and possibly all these other commoners to die in the name of an asshole. How honoring.

Among you and other miserably unlucky individuals, there were all kinds of different people. From innocent, to criminals. From young to old, from poor to… Well, mildly not as poor. Nobles would never be subjected to this, you know that. All of these individuals were carried away by a carriage. All crammed into one little vehicle, away from the public sight.

After being far enough from the town and now deep within the forest, the soldiers commanded all of you to get out of the carriage as now you'll begin to walk straight to the mountain while carrying… Gold?

"- It's a gift from the king. Survive long enough, and you'll be able to take it with you." The general said, his tone being condescending as ever.

You could…. Technically run away, right now. They haven't really put any restrains in any of you-

"- Over there!" A soldier alerted the general, who looked little surprised by seeing two of your group running away with the gold in hands.

Without hesitation, or even a slight hint of empathy, the general shot both with his crossbow. Their bodies fall flat in the forest ground, with all that gold and jewelry accompanying them. All that gold being wasted and left behind, just like the bodies of the people carrying them.

You felt sick, the need to vomit was surfacing through your stomach. This- This is terrible!? This is so cruel! How can they continue to walk like nothing happened??

God, how did a once prospering kingdom has now fallen in such a low pit?

As you can imagine, the walk was torturous and it felt like it was going forever. Of course, a lot of questions were emerging about the strange situation.

One: how did the king know and was certain that the myth of the dragon was real and that the dragon was awake?

Two: why didn't he call his own army to attend to such issues instead of the common folk being forced to go with his wishes?

Actually, now that you think about it, why are there so few skilled, trained soldiers taking a bunch of people to a cave unprepared?

Carrying a bunch of gold for fucks sake, this stuff is heavy!

If it was truly a gift from the king to your group, then why were you obligated to carry it all the way to the cave? Sounds unreasonable and if anything, absolutely ridiculous. It would only slow your group down, and for what?!

Sounds like a trap to be…. Honest. Wait a minute-

"- Shit!" You whisper to yourself at the sudden realization that you're fucked, which unfortunately, caused a soldier that was near you to hear it.

"- Nothing sir, I just stabbed my foot in a rock." You weren't lying though. This whole walk bullshit your doing has destroyed your low quality sandals, and now you could basically feel the ground stabbing you every time you stept.

The soldier just grunted at you, and as much as you wished to take his sword and shove it up his bum, you couldn't help but go back to your original train of thought before you got interrupted.

You were going straight to death right? You're not supposed to fight a dragon, but rather serve as an offering?? What?!

You can't even speak or alert your fellow companions in any way. The last three people that have spoken without being directed to, were shot in the head.

The realization has sadly come in too late for you to make any plans now, as you forward as your group walk upwards, following the mountain's trail, you find yourself facing not only the entrance to a presumably dangerous cave infested with predators, but also the gates to your inevitable death.

You would now have to think of how to escape the soldiers and their arrows, or how to possibly make your death less painful. Being eaten by a dragon doesn't sound really fun.

When entering the cave you're met with more-

"- Are you fucking kidding me?!" Someone screamed, while easily accepting their death.

You couldn't help but agree with the person. While entering the cave, you're met with a great ravine, going in a spiral fashion deeper into the cave.

In other words, you have not only walked all the way up to a fucking mountain, but you would now need to get down into a creepy cave.

You almost considered asking for some eternal peace before remembering that your father's life was still in line. You just… Don't want to go away like this, you don't want your father to go like this.

And once again your group, that was now a lot shorter due to the amount of deaths along the way, was now following the general once again. Only this time, the soldiers were behind all of you, probably to guarantee no one ran away. Too late for that now anyway, so why even bother?

You didn't realize how you were on the very front of everyone, side by side with the man that was leading you to your doom.

You felt his eyes fall into your form a couple of times, but he never really turned his face to look at you. After a long silence of just a bunch of miserable people stepping closer to a terrible plan that was not well thought-out, he said:

"- You know it already. Right?" His voice was rough and still held the nonchalant tone that was written all over his face. You doubt this man could have ever smiled once in his life.

You almost choked with your own breathing, the nerve of this man! You couldn't help but let out the only thing you have wanted to say this whole time:

"- I hate you." You say as your eyes start to become a little watery. The feeling of desperation was eating you up ever since you entered the carriage, but only now you felt how bad the teeth of despair hurt.

"- I know kid. Me too." He responded, his tone never changed, even while saying that.

You guess he didn't really appreciate his job as much as you thought he did. Yet, you couldn't find in your heart to pity the man, as he was complicit in all of this mess. But I guess, you do hope for this man to find some sort of redemption, either presently or in his after life.

You still think he did a lot of bad things of course, his crimes are probably never gonna be forgiven. But just because of that, it didn't mean he couldn't start to do some good actions now, not for the sake of finding inner forgiveness, but for the sake of others. For the sake of the innocent people being not only met with unfair treatment, but also being ruled by a psychotic tyrant who is a complete imbecile. No wonder the queen and his son were missing for so long, you would probably have run away if you were them too.

When finally coming down, with your feet now hurting like a bitch, you can find some time for yourself to appreciate the beauty of this place.

You know, before you lose your head? To a freaking dragon??

Honestly, you at least hope that the stories you read were true, because holy fuck- Imagine how exhausted your body is from walking for what it feels like an eternity, holding jewelry made with gold, only to find an empty cave?

Then you would be able to go feral kill one or two soldiers before getting your ass beaten. As you don't have enough reason to just do that right now, right?

You expected to be met with disappointment, but what you truly saw while finally getting into the dragon's territory, you were able to not only feel enchanted by the magnitude of these treasure places, but also forget the danger of the situation, as you look around and remember the tales you read.

This is so much better than what you have imagined it to be like. It's… Mesmerising! It 's beautiful! The underground pond, the glowing crystals, the pile of gold, the stolen statues of the great warriors of your kingdom, golden weapons all scattered across the floor, the white feathered looking dragon staring down at you from his nest, that little tea set that is really cute and fragile yet it probably cost way more than your house, your clothes, and all of your furniture all together.

Oh no wait-

"- We came with what you asked for, Artemio." Said the general fast walking his way to be in between you and the beast.

To say you were freaking out would be an understatement. You knew dragons were huge, but you didn't expect it to be so… Huge! You know??

Oh my God, you're dead-

You looked around to see only you, your group of commoners ready to be probably eaten, and the general. And while looking for the soldiers, you noticed them trying to close the opening with a man built gate, created to keep the beast.

But obviously, that gate looks absolutely ridiculous, there is no way this guy couldn't destroy it by simply slapping it. It's quite laughable, yet…

You feel this is not just a coincidence or a bad made joke. You have a feeling they know the gate is essentially useless. It was really old, so, clearly this has been going on from quite some time.

Has… Has your kingdom been doing this for centuries?? Bringing offerings to please the dragon and beg it to sleep for more centuries to come?

"- This is absolute bullshit!" You screamed, not noticing how your heart was racing and your breathing had started to become frantic. You were panicking while coming to terms with the fact that your whole world was collapsing in front of your eyes. Your scream clearly surprised your fellow companions, yet it didn't surprise the dragon or the general.

The dragon had, well, a dragon face, so you have no idea what it was thinking, and the general was still with the same non-expressive face since the beginning of this stupid trip!

"- What?! You have nothing to say?? You brought us here to die, at least say something, you coward!" You were fuming with rage. How can a person like this be so annoying even when he is not saying anything.

He looks at you with an understanding expression, yet you don't think about what it could mean as you reach to one of the many golden weapons spread around across the floor. They were heavy and quite frankly completely useless, yet you still hold into that golden sword like your life depended on it.

And it did, actually.

Have you gone insane or just completely blind with rage and the instinct of survival? You're not sure just yet, but you'll lose your last bit of sanity to stand your ground.

You aren't going down without a fight.

"- Come at me, you big bird!" You yelled, looking kinda epic and kinda goofy at the same time. You probably shouldn't insult a dragon who hasn't decided who he'll first, it may change his appetite.

Before the general could interfere with your foolish behavior, the one and only had spoken:

"- Where exactly is what we had agreed on?" Like in true entitled brat fashion, Artemio asked the general while putting his head in his pawn.

"- We had to eliminate a couple of the troublemakers. In the end some of the gold was left behind in the progress-"

"- No, I mean, where truly is what I asked for? The jewelry is quite frankly ugly, the gold coins don't matter as I already have plenty, and none of these humans look really edible. Or well… Appetising." You could swear a pouty face was appearing in Artemio's face, yet only one thing had taken your attention. That's the reason why they needed so many disposable people? Oh… Wait a minute, did the dragon just call everyone here too ugly to eat?

"- If you can't compromise with your promises, then I think we'll have to change the deal-" Artemio started getting up from his nest, stretching out like a cat.

"- Oh, please no, can't you just-" The general panicked, thinking that the dragon would destroy the village.

"- I want that one." Artemio said. Pointing at you.

"- What?" You looked behind you just in case you were in the way of someone else. No, you weren't.

"- Uhn… What?" Oh look, even the general was confused as you, and well, the entire cast of people that were thrown in this hell hole.

"- Yes, that one holding the spear."

"- Just… That one, or-"

"- Just that one. And I won't get out of the cave for at least a century, I promise!" He sounds and acts like both a child and a cat, preparing himself to pounce on its prey any moment now.

"- ….. Okay then, fair enough. It's your problem now kid." He said, making a motion for all the other captives to follow him. Which they gladly did, because, you know, they aren't the protagonist of the story.

"- What?! You can't leave me here, you bastard!!" You screamed, although subconsciously you already knew his answer.

"- I think I'm just doing that!" He screamed from the other side of the cave, fuckz they really didn't waste no time at all, did they?

Sigh, who are you kidding? If you were one of them, you would have ran away as fast as you could. At least some gave you sympathetic looks before going back to their "freedom".

You heard the heavy gate closing. Well, shit. It's you and him now.

You tried going back into your original threatening stance, but before you could, you saw a glimpse of Artemio coming in at full speed, taking no time to jump at you. This is it [Y/N], send your last prayers to your father and your old life before-

Before he starts licking you... like a dog? What?

He pauses and you tense up, looking up and seeing a dragon powerful enough to destroy villages, looking at you like a precious little gift.

Artemio picks you up and hugs you in an almost bone breaking hug. Confused and frustrated with how the situation was going, you asked:

"- A-Aren't you going to kill me?" Yes, it was a pathetic question, if a dragon isn't killing you, then why ask it to do it??

"- I have been so lonely since the last human that I chose! I usually prefer to have many friends around but all of the other options seemed so boring, you know?" His voice is oddly cheerful and sweet to someone that sees humans as pets, or "friends". So… What is really going on here?

"- I thought you ate people." You said, still frustrated that you were betrayed and lied to through this entire day.

"- Well, I guess I can eat humans-" Says the giant bird-lizard acting like a child trying to lie about doing something wrong- "- But I really don't like doing it, I promise!"

"- I just wanted someone to play with, you know? All the dragons that I know are just so boring and take everything seriously." He huffed in annoyance.

"- Well… Do you-" You started questioning if you really want to to know the answer, but curiosity sure is killing this cat!- "- What happened to the other humans that were here?"

"- Oh, they… Uhn, they died, because of your shirt lifespan and all ya know." He responded.

"- Oh… Then why did the soldiers bring us here saying you were going to eat us?" Why not go full balls in and ask everything, right?

"- It's- Sigh, it's really embarrassing, but I didn't know any other way of how to ask for company down here." He said shyly, which only confirmed your suspicion of this being complete bullshit.

"- And you threaten to burn a whole kingdom just because of that?" You asked.

"- Yes!" He answered with no shame whatsoever. This guy was a dog wearing a dragon costume, you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"- Sigh, oh my God…"

"- Hey, uhn, what's your name?" Artemio spoke, he thought that he should also ask questions as he wants to be able to enjoy every second with his new pet.

"- It is [Y/N]. And you're Artemio, right?" You can't believe any of this, really. You went from an absolutely terrible life or death situation, to a… Well, you can't even tell what the hell is going on anymore!

"- [Y/N].... [Y/N]! [Y/N], that's such a good name!" The excited dragon repeated your name multiple times before interrupting your peace once again. You can't be mad at him, but-

Come on, you needed some time to accept everything that just went down. You didn't even notice you were on the floor until Artemio was in front of your view again.

"- [Y/N]!" He was so easy to please, that just saying your name was fun to him.

"- Sigh… Hey Artemio." You sighed as there was no way in hell this dragon would leave you to deal with this weird feeling of emptiness arising in your chest.

"- What do you want to do now?" He asked cheerfully, but not completely oblivious to your feelings of being abandoned underground with him by force.

You stayed silent for a second, again, trying to come with terms with this new lifestyle that you were subjected to. You technically could ask Artemio to open the gate, he doesn't seem to have any intention of hurting you. But who knows? He has a different point of view in this whole thing than you do.

Silence was taking over the cave, but not exactly an awkward silence, just… A comforting one.

The water dripped from the ceiling. You felt the ground underneath you shake a little as Artemio followed your "guidance". He decided to lay on his back near you.

He wasn't really doing any self reflection at all, he just wanted to join in with you, yet all he could think is how happy he is to have someone else to spend time with.

You may only see him slightly from the corner of your eyes, yet you still feel a little, strange, by seeing a dragon mimic your ways.

You don't feel nessecerally homesick, but you do miss your father. You absolutely hate the idea of coming back to the kingdom, but… If you could see your father one last time, and probably help him with the gold that is in this place….

Maybe you could even-!.....

"- Artemio."

"- Yes, [Y/N]!*

"- AAH!" He turned himself to meet your face so fast that you whimpered because of his sudden motion.

He was going to check if you were okay, but you stopped him showing that you were fine, just a little spooked.

"- Hey, Artemio-" You said again, as you were still reformulating your question in your head-

"- Do you know how to burn an entire castle?"

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #sheep stuff #yandere oc #sheep's stuff #yandere x reader #yandere oc fanfiction #yandere oc x reader #yandere dragon #yandere dragon x reader #yandere dragon fanfiction #yandere fanfiction #yandere fanfic #yandere monster #yandere monster fanfiction #special delivery request #special delivery fanfictions

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a-libra-writes · 4 years ago

Text

How the Peaky Blinders React To You Being Worried About Them

Specifically, worried about t heir gang life, bc these kiddos get up to some shit. This was requested⭐

In this imagine, you’ll be worrying over: Tommy Shelby, Arthur Shelby, John Shelby, Ada Shelby, Polly Gray, Michael Gray, Alfie Solomons, Lizzie Stark, Isaiah, Luca Changretta, Aberama Gold

THOMAS SHELBY

Tommy used to dismiss your concerns offhandedly, insisting he was fine and there was never a reason to worry. As he began to involve himself in more dangerous schemes, he realized your concerns were valid ... but he didn’t want you to wait up, fretting and making yourself sick with worry. So he did something he felt was cruel: he simply didn’t tell you. He kept his business quieter than usual so Ada or Polly wouldn’t mention it, either. He was fine coming home ragged and tired, but if he ended up bloody, he’d wash up first and try to make excuses for his wounds. Tommy respected your cleverness, but he hated the idea of you getting involved with the business and getting yourself in trouble from it. He couldn’t stomach the idea of losing you - lying came easy once he thought of that.

ARTHUR SHELBY

While Arthur adored that you were so concerned for him, he began to feel guilty for showing up a bloody mess, often fresh off a fight. It was worse if he got drunk afterward and you had to deal with that on top of cleaning his wounds. It hurt even more that you were more worried and anxious than mad. So, if he got into a fight on Tommy’s orders, he’d do his best to clean up before coming home to you. If he had to go away on something important, he’d do his best to tell you what he could so you’d know when to expect him (and knowing him, he’d end up spilling a lot, especially if you kept looking with those concerned eyes).

JOHN SHELBY

He’s full of bravado when he tells you there’s nothing to worry about. Even when he comes home with a busted lip and a tired swagger, he tells you all about how he got them back twice as good. John won’t tell you every detail because he knows better than that, and he’ll bug Ada to keep quiet when he’s off to a dangerous job. Sometimes John doesn’t realize how much you worry until he shows up at an ungodly hour after being gone for more than a day. He’ll buy you flowers or make you breakfast as an apology, and try to distract you with some other matter.

ADA SHELBY

Ada preferred being honest with you. While she wasn’t directly involved in the messy side of business, she had to do her share of shady deals, and you were important to her, so she told you of them. She often sought out your advice, although she’d rather you weren’t involved in it. Ada likes the fact that you’re her’s, something separate from the Shelbys that she can keep safe. If it’s seriously distressing you, or she’s had to deal with something particularly nasty, Ada will try to keep it to herself. She prefers the idea of your shared home being a place you two can escape to and not think about whatever the hell her family is doing.

POLLY GRAY

She initially scoffed when you began to express worry about the work she’d be doing, and wryly reminded you that she’s been doing it since the war. Then you looked hurt and she realized the depth of your concern. While Polly had always told you the truth of what business they have to do, after a certain point she began to cut back and tell half-truths or just hide the nastier business all together. This has the double benefit of minimizing your worrying and keeping you out of any dangerous situations, and she’s confident you won’t find out … as long as Michael or Tommy don’t say anything.

MICHAEL GRAY

Michael would give you simple reassurances whenever you brought the issue up, and it was always the same “it won’t be any trouble” and “I know what I’m doing”. It wasn’t until he was nearly killed by the Italians that you put your foot down, expressing how truly worried you were and how much you hated how closed off he was about it. The truth is Michael preferred hiding things from you because he didn’t want you to see the moments when he worried and doubted himself. He wanted you to think he was always in control, and always safe. He is touched about your worrying, which is why he wants to alleviate them where he can; he wants to be the one looking after you.

ALFIE SOLOMONS

Right away he thought your worry was adorable, and you were telling him to be serious. He waltzes in with bullet holes on his coat, some blood on his shirt (not his, he insisted), and he had the nerve to call your concern “darling”? No matter your protests, Alfie is always a secretive man and gives you some heads up when he has to be gone for a day or two, and no amount of you worrying will make him give you more details. He’s sure it’s better this way. When he comes home, he brings gifts he knows you’ll like and gives you plenty of affection, jokingly asking if it makes up for his few days of absence.

LIZZIE STARK

Lizzie counts herself lucky that she doesn’t have to be involved with too much of the really dirty business, not just for her own safety, but for your nerves. She loves that you’re so worried about her - god, when was the last time someone really cared like that? - but she hates causing it. So, Lizzie often only speaks of the good, legitimate side, noting how it was a boring day full of paperwork or notation. Sometimes she avoids bringing you to the parties or gatherings, especially with Arthur and John, because they’ll open their big mouths about something that happened.

ISAIAH JESUS

Isaiah quickly figured out that maybe he shouldn’t go bragging to you about the fight he won or the dangerous job he was trusted with. The way you froze up, how your eyes got wide, your smile instantly falling, the awful way his gut clenched… no, he didn’t want to repeat that over and over. He isn’t the best at hiding what’s going on, but he goes out of his way to promise he won’t make stupid decisions. Your concern makes him blush when he recalls it, but it also gives him the determination to keep his head on straight and focus so he can come home in one piece.

LUCA CHANGRETTA

While he doesn’t discuss details, sometimes Luca will mention his darker business with such a casual, easy tone that you almost miss what he said. Anytime you express concern, Luca takes your hand and gently promises he’ll be safe. Doesn’t he always come home, in one piece, and besides - he rarely dirties his hands like his boys do (so he says, anyway). While Luca is glad that you care so much, he’s also bothered that he’s responsible for upsetting you, so on top of his usual reassurances and promises, he tries to distract you with something.

ABERAMA GOLD

Aberama’s always felt guilty about worrying you with his jobs. No, you never tried to make him quit the life or get into huge fights over it (he’s grateful for both), but you did spend entire days wondering if he’d come back alive, and he hated doing that to you. So whenever Aberama comes home, he brings flowers or wine you love and instantly tries to distract you with lots of sweet words and attentions. He’d rather distract you and enjoy the time he has than address the real danger he faces on each job.

#peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagines #thomas shelby x reader #arthur shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #ada shelby x reader #polly gray x reader #michael gray x reader #alfie solomons x reader #lizzie stark x reader #isaiah jesus x reader #luca changretta x reader #aberama gold x reader

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