#like BLOODY MURDER screaming and they assumed he was beating up on me but they looked outside and both of us were on the trampoline | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

physicalturian · 3 years ago

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[18+] Deranged Love - Hanma Shuji x F!Reader - Part 1

[Probably contains spoilers from the anime and the manga] [She/Her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone is +18]

Words: 9403

Archive of our own

Warnings : Explicit! / Blood / Injuries / Guns / Bruises / Choking / Blood / Graphic depiction of violence / Killing / Murder / Crying / Trauma /

Summary : Wrong place, wrong guy. Wrong in so many fucking ways it only made the attraction more sick and twisted...Yet I wanted more of him and would end up doing anything for him, with him.

If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask, I'd rather be safe than sorry

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Routine.

This would be how I would describe my way of life, a routine. I liked it like that, it was safe, comfortable and I was sure of what would happen. Far from me the idea of only doing the same things over and over again, I would sometimes go out with my friends or see a movie—doing things on a whim was not off the table. But I liked knowing what I was signing up for. Surprises, however, never were a thing I enjoyed—seeing my friends in my house when all I wanted was to relax after work was something dreadful and annoying to no end. I would pull through and be a good host, nonetheless, making sure everything was enjoyable, but I would be drained by the end of their stay.

Perhaps that need for reassurance, for a safety net, was the reason why I never truly took an artistic path or even considered any artistic career. It was too free, too unpredictable, too risky. Never could I have imagined myself doing such a thing; those who did were in my eyes the boldest and I admired them greatly for following their dream, but I was not bold, I preferred the solace of a job I knew would always bring me money. A simple 9 to 5 job was fulfilling enough for me; for some it was not, but I enjoyed it. It was something I could do and found relaxing to do, even when there was more rush. It just made sense to me.

There was not much thrill in this job. The people were nice enough; the clients were a bit bitter from time to time, depending on whether the job we had done was in their favor or not. Some of my colleagues would tell me crazy stories about some firms they had worked on or with and I would have a hard time believing it, but perhaps it was because different departments would deal with different types of clients. I had simple people: homeowners, tax payers, easy stuff. I liked it.

Now, even if I was keen on this routine that I had of going to my job, using the same transports, the same paths, headphones in to ignore the people around, I knew when following that same path would bring me trouble. I knew when to break that routine even just a little bit.

Tonight was one of those rare occasions. As I walked back home from work after having had to stay one more hour to help my colleague Darren fix his mistake—I made sure to tell him he owed me for helping him this late—I saw a group of men surrounding someone on the street. With one glance around, the entire street was empty except for those seven men and their victim. The usually crowded place was completely deserted and as I wondered how it could have happened, I noticed bikes at the end of the road blocking any possible traffic. It did not take a genius to know this was something far above me, there was no way I would interfere with that. Turning around, I made sure my steps were less heavy, less determined and started walking back. I did not have time to think I was going to get out of there safely when I heard, “Miss! Call the police-“. A thud sound, followed by a pained moan reached my ear.

When I dared look over my shoulder, I saw the man on his knees, blood pouring from his nose. I recognized him, he was a creepy older man that would sometimes stay longer on the train to look at younger women. Glancing at the other people around him, I kept my face as neutral as possible. Should I call the police? The outfits they wore all had the same sigil on them, the same pattern, and since they did not look like high schoolers I hardly believed those were school uniforms. Which led to the conclusion that they were the ones the news talked about a lot. The city was filled with gangs fighting over territory, not hesitating one bit to kill anyone who would cross them. I was sure of myself, assertive, yes… but I did not possess a savior complex. Seeing that man on the floor made me realize how wrong the system was, but I could not risk taking part in the situation and helping him. There were too many and clearly a lot scarier and stronger than I was. Looking away, I kept walking and heard them laugh, “That’s the right thing to do missy, he deserved it-“ “I said I was going to pay as soon as I got the money!” The victim interrupted; he was speaking very fast, but the fist smashing his jaw was faster to tell him to shut up. “It ain’t about that, you know it!”

Playing my music again, louder this time, I walked away and let them deal with everything, taking a different route than the one I would usually take. It’s alright to not have helped, you wouldn’t have made a difference… But he deserved it… I can still call the police… A turmoil inside my head started as I kept walking. After a few minutes, I grabbed my phone and dialed the police department’s number; they picked up quite fast, asking me what the emergency was. “There are gang members beating up a man in-“ “I’m sorry ma’am we can’t help with that, have a nice evening.” And just like that, the person on the other end of the phone hung up. Looking at my phone incredulously, I called again, all while taking a turn and walking by a warehouse, “Hello, you must have misunderstood me earlier—it is not a joke, there are gang members in the-“ This time, I was not interrupted by the person on the phone but by my arms being grabbed suddenly.

My heartbeat picked up, I suddenly felt sick and my head started spinning. When things like this happened, we’d always think it only happened to others, so when I realized it was happening to me, I did not feel well. Blood drained from my face, from my entire body. It all happened so fast: one moment I was walking past the warehouse, then suddenly my phone hit the ground and I joined it when I was thrown on it with force. My cheekbone took all the damage as someone pressed the side of my face onto the wet ground and made sure to put weight on my back to stop me from moving. I was shivering in fear already, but that fear only grew when my hair was pushed out of the way by a bloody hand, its knuckles painted red and brown from fresh and drying blood. The action did not feel one bit intimate, it was scary, intimidating. With the pressure on my back, I was pressed against the hard floor and could barely breathe, but in a situation like this I knew better than to talk.

I knew that. Yes.

So why did I talk? Why were my nerves acting up in moments like these?

“I am sure you got the wrong person—I’m just an accountant-“ A gun was now pressed against my cheek, I took it as a sign to shut up and did so. The man on my back twisted the gun a few times against my cheek, making me open my mouth from the weird movements against my teeth, like someone forcing a dog to open its jaws to get food out of it. “Aren’t we noisy? Tonight wasn’t the right night to feel heroic, girl.” The man asked as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I closed my eyes in discomfort, my breath hitching. Laughing sadistically, he continued talking, this time his tone lowered, “Rats shouldn’t snoop in businesses that aren’t theirs.” I felt the weight shift on my back, then heard him ask someone, “Keep beating him up, I’ll take care of her then we’ll continue having our fun,” His voice was stern but I still heard some tones of him being carefree, he was enjoying this. He then addressed someone else, “Sounds good to you?” The answer consisted of muffled cries, attempts at screams that were cut off by hits then a gun cocking. With a sigh, the man on me pulled the gun away from my face and tutted the man who was bound on his knees.

I felt the weight leave my back but did not dare move, I stayed right where I was. Steps on the humid ground were heard, getting away from me but clearly approaching the man who I assumed was being tortured. The gun fired soon after, startling me as I tensed up and closed my eyes a few seconds before opening them again. The crazy man that put me on the ground laughed loudly, “Come on, it’s just the thigh, you can still walk for now, yeah?” He had said. Turning my head to look at them, I saw the older man on his knees, hands tied behind his back and suit bloody. His tie was undone, and he had wounds all over his face and chest. “I said you can walk, yeah?” Recognizing the voice, I could put a face to my aggressor as I watched him remove his glove before grabbing the victim by his arm and making him stand up, only to force him to wobble a bit. “See! I am being nice! Talk and it’s all over, come on.” He cooed in something that could be seen as sweet if it wasn’t happening in a warehouse with violent people and a man bleeding on the ground.

“I told you! I don’t know anything I-“ The man with the long earring in his left ear did not think twice before punching the office worker in the face with enough force. I believe I heard his nose crack. I caught a glimpse of the tattoos adorning his hands but could not decipher, from how far I was, what was written on them. The crazy man laughed after the punch, “Wrong answer! Haha, you have one last chance, ok?” He said, leaning over so that his face was at the same level as the other man’s. From my place on the ground, I could only see the wicked smile on his face, and it made me feel uneasy. The tall violent man was clearly crazy, having such a man roaming the city did not seem safe at all and it scared me to think of what else was happening in the shadows. “Alright, alright, please Reaper-“ The man he called Reaper gripped his chin tight and chuckled, “Straight to point, I don’t have time to waste on vermin like you, you’re no fun.” He said as a matter of fact, as if they both believed this. His face had turned serious so quickly that I feared the moment I felt like I could escape, he would change his mind in half a second.

The bleeding man nodded quickly, tears streaming down his cheeks, “It’s Silas&Sons—That’s the name of the firm that discovered something was off-'' While I was left in shock at the mention of the firm I worked at, the Reaper grinned and brought the gun to the man’s forehead, “Wasn’t hard, was it?” the man tried to tell him not to shoot, adding that the violent one had promised he would stop. The latter shook his head, “I said it’ll all be over! Listen carefully next time,” He said the last part like a parent berating their child then winked and pressed the trigger, killing the man in less than a second as his body hit the ground, blood spattering behind him. The man with black and blond hair looked at the body on the ground and chuckled to himself, “There won’t be a next time, but you get the jest.” He huffed with a wave of his hand before handing back the gun he had been given earlier. Turning around, his eyes locked on mine. I widened my eyes in pure terror and turned my face to be in the position he had left me in; I was aware he had seen me, but I was hoping he would not mention it.

The other people that were in the room had gone silent and were probably all looking at me, the woman lying on the floor, shaking, dreading for her life. The odds of me coming out of this unscathed seemed to be decreasing the more I observed what was happening around me. A stinging pain reached my scalp making me hiss, as someone lifted my head from the ground to make me look at them. While turning my head their way, I saw two men sitting on a crate, one with two braids that were long enough to go down to his ribcage while the other had shorter purple hair and glasses. Boredom adorned both their features alongside blood stains on their outfits, and yet they were nonchalant about it. I saw a man leaning behind another crate but barely managed to catch a glimpse of his tattoo that the man called Reaper snapped his fingers in front of me. “Here, I’m your tormentor, not them, yeah?” He grinned. Meeting his gaze again, I forced myself to keep my mouth shut and kept my eyes on him.

“You’re being courageous, not even crying yet! You’re a fun one, gotta love it.” He said happily, his hand patting the cheek that had taken most of the damage when he slammed me on the ground. I flinched when I saw his hand approach my face then winced at the rough touch against the bruising skin. “What will I do with you little rat? Eavesdropping ain’t nice, tattling ain’t it either.” The latter was said in a more serious tone as his expression turned somber, any humor that dripped from his words a moment ago was completely gone and he was now looking at me with caution. “Get up, come on.” I did not have a choice, the grip in my hair did not slacken and I had to follow his movement to avoid most of the pain. My clothes were dirty and damp from the humid ground; I felt my legs shake as I got to my feet and hissed at the pain when he yanked my hair for me to follow him quicker.

Pushing me forward, he threw me against the crate where the two other men were sitting. Hitting my shoulder against the wooden item, I swore under my breath and was about to fall to my knees again when the man with the long braids wrapped his legs around my neck and somewhat choked me. Caught off guard, I gripped his shins tight and tried to break free, but his hold only tightened. I heard him mock me while he dug his heels deeper in my biceps from the position he was in, “Stop moving and it’ll stop hurting, fuck you’re stupid.” He sighed with disdain, bringing me closer towards him but it only pressed my neck against the wood. Gritting my teeth, I stopped trying to get him to let go and let my arms fall to my side, when I felt the choke weaken and took a large intake of breath while focusing my eyes anywhere but on the man in front of me.

The manic laughter I had now heard many times in those few minutes I was on the floor reached my ears again, “I can see you wanna live, what are you willing to do to stay alive?” He asked in a light tone. It was a real question, but I did not want to do anything. I wanted to punch them and make a run for it, but they had guns and strength, none of which I could match in any way. I kept my mouth shut again.

The Reaper chuckled again, “I don’t know if you keeping your pretty mouth shut is a curse or a blessing-“ he stopped himself and slapped my now undamaged cheek with as much force as he could, making me yelp at the pain. I kept my face turned the direction his hand had turned it, but he gripped my chin forcefully and made me look at him. His expression had turned almost sour as he stared right into my eyes, “Fucking answer the question, what are you willing to do?” he spat, his face only breaths away from mine. Keeping a frown on, I uttered, “I wasn’t calling on you, there were people blocking another road-“ His mouth contorted into a smile once again as he pushed my face against the crate before letting go as he threw his hands in the air, and turned around on himself once, “She speaks! God it’s so entertaining to see you’re—Still. Not. Crying.” He gritted through his teeth the last three words before leaning over once again, his face very close to mine just like before.

“You’re telling me it’s a coincidence then?” He asked in a playful tone, clearly mocking me.

Fuck I wanted to make a run for it and get away from here. My heart was trying to beat out of my chest the longer I spent time here, the only thought running through my mind was: I am going to die here. How else would I end up? He had killed a man that had told him what he wanted to know, so no matter what I said he would kill me, right? Stammering a bit, I nodded the best I could with legs still around my neck, “Yes, I hadn’t seen you were here, I-“

“You’re funny! I’ll give you that! God you’re-“ He pulled back and made a rapid movement of his arms approaching me, as if putting me on display, “You’re fun! Ran, let her go.” The first part was said in excitement, the latter in the utmost seriousness. The moment he had spoken those words, the man let go of my neck and I was about to stumble when the Reaper grabbed me by the shoulders. He was tall, strangely tall, way above average, and it only added to all the traits that already made him scary. My whole body tensed, I thought this was it. He glared at me for a few moments before speaking to one of his friends, his gaze never leaving mine, “What do we know?”

An unknown voice reached my ear, it was close, so it must have been the other man on the crate, “Seems like a civilian, said she was an accountant. She also seemed surprised when the vermin said Silas&Son.” That perked the Reaper’s interest.

“Oh, so the little girl knows things. Have they sent you?” He asked, forcing me to look up by gripping my chin once more. He did not care the amount of strength he used, he couldn’t care less if I was uncomfortable, to him I was just a puppet that he could throw around and play with. Clearly he was right since I moved along and did not fight back. If I did, I would die, I was sure of it. “I was walking home from work—I saw my usual path was blocked and people were ganging up against a man so I-“ “You ran? The rat isn’t one for conflict, eh?” He patted my head and smiled almost reassuringly before letting go of me, making sure I fell on the floor. “Then? Make this quick, this ain’t the time for a bedtime story.”

“I called the police so that they could check—they said it was none of their business so I tried again and you-“ Fuck I was stuttering, the stress was too much and once I had fallen on my back, he was a lot more intimidating. He could just pull out his gun and shoot me, I could not get up with how I was shaking.

“You tried to do the right thing, right?” He asked, his back now turned to me. I could not gauge his emotion, so I replied sincerely, “Yes, it was all that I could do-“

Suddenly he turned around and pointed a gun at me, grinning, “Wrong! You could have helped the poor, poor man on the street, yeah? But you didn’t, why?” I did not reply right away, so he waved the gun around before crouching right in front of me and taking a good look at me. “They were too many-“ “That never stops a hero, does it? It’s all about charisma, determination, letting your body act faster than your brain, no?” He asked rhetorically, but while I waited for him to continue he sighed and looked down, his gun dropping lower as his arm fell limp. He started mumbling to himself a moment, using the gun to scratch his hair. Perhaps it was not the most adequate time to do so, but I looked at his outfit and saw he was wearing suit pants and a white business shirt. Quite the outfit for a murderer, but he had made sure to pull his sleeves up to not stain it. He was right in doing so since all the blood from earlier was on his black gloves and his forearms.

“Tell me, rat,” He slowly looked up and gave me a wicked smile, “Are you a hero?” He brought the gun to my forehead and all I did was close my eyes in fear. A sob escaped my lips as I tried to back away, but I was only met with the wooden crate, accidentally bumping my head against the shoes of one of the men sitting on it. “Do you believe there is good in this world? That it deserves to be saved? Hm? Would you die for this pathetic excuse of a world?” He pressed the gun even more against my skin. I heard the click as he disengaged the safety and tried to close my eyes even more than how I had already shut them, but found it impossible. My entire body was shaking, there was no helping the sobs escaping my mouth even by covering it.

I felt a gentle hand push my hand away and opened my eyes in confusion, only to see that the man who was holding a gun against me was grinning, “Answer the question.” He turned the gun horizontally and rested his arm on his knee as he placed his head on his free hand, completely relaxed. Getting lost in thoughts, I stared emptily at him while he started counting down, “Three…” Am I a hero? How would one describe a Hero? None of the mythological heroes could define me, none of those famous franchises either. “Two, think faster.” What answer did he want? Should I give him what he wants, or should I just be honest? “One-“

“I’m not a hero, I didn’t call right away because he deserved it, I-“ Taking a deep breath, I tried to take a hold of myself and calm down the best I could. “He harassed people, no one ever did anything about it-“

“See! Wasn’t hard, was it? Good girl,” He patted my head before moving the gun under my chin and raising it with the end of the gun, his finger never leaving the trigger, “You’re also a bad person then, you’re like us, right? Some people do deserve to die!”

Shuddering, I took a shaky breath and inhaled, “I’m nothing like you-“ “If he died it’s because ye didn’t act quick enough, don’t you agree?” He inquired with a pleading look, the mockery never leaving his tone. “I don’t, no.” My words were followed by the gun leaving my person as the man stood up quickly and barked out a laugh before asking his friends if they had heard that, they only grumbled in reply. He tucked the gun in the back of his pants and I quickly let my head down in fear I had triggered him somehow, frightened it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “I like you, accountant woman. I just wanna see one thing to know what I should do with you—well two, but I’ll start slow.” Bringing his arm behind his back, I tensed again but then felt the gun hit my ankle as he threw it at me.

“Shoot me,” He ordered as he crouched in front of me, his arms crossed over his knees while grinning broadly. “I killed a guy, right? I am bad, killing me should make you a hero.” His little speech was stupid, it only started a vicious cycle of death with no end. Killing a killer that killed one person? It’d make me a killer that killed one person, and so on. But he brought his hand to mine and wrapped my fingers around the handle of the gun before pressing it against his forehead. “Here, you can’t miss from this close, show me you got guts! Come on, do it.” That grin turned into something scary, manic, he was getting off on the thrill. But my hands were shaking, I had never held a gun before, never intended to, but tonight was nothing if not exceptional. When I tried to put my arm down, he grabbed my elbow and kept it up, “It’s you or me, come on, make this fun for both of us-“ “I’m not shooting you in the head! You’re insane-“

Hearing my words well, he barked a laugh then guided the gun to his heart, one of the men behind me sighed and told him to hurry up, but the Reaper only shushed him. “Here, then? Sounds better?” Nothing was right in his head; I couldn’t understand what he was doing. No matter how hard I tried, I did not know the point he was making, but taking all this time to think about it made me lose the position of power he had given me. Forcing my hand to let go of the gun, he took it and, at the speed of light, put it in my mouth, making a sob escape it as he did so. “That’s a missed opportunity, too bad.” He shrugged then as I saw him press the trigger. I closed my eyes, my hands gripping my thighs so tight, it must have left some marks under the fabric of my pants.

The click of the trigger echoed, and I felt myself jump on the spot at how loud the bang was—so this is it? That thought crossed my mind rapidly, but was shoved aside by the loud ringing in my ears. I then heard footsteps echoing around the warehouse. The gun was no longer in my mouth, there were no bullets, it was a blank; I felt my stomach churn and opened my eyes in panic before pushing my tormentor away. I was surprised when he let me do so, but it was better for him. Slamming my hands down, I was on the floor as I emptied my stomach on the concrete. Chuckles reached my ears along with the whispers of a few words, “Can’t even stomach a bit of gun play.” “Should have killed her, blood stench leaves easier than vomit.” The latter comment made one of them laugh.

When I was done, I thought for a second that death was quick, most of the time. And when it wasn’t, you expected it, you weren’t filled with stress. Hence why no one ever spoke of post-mortem vomit. It made me laugh only for a second until I was pushed back on my ass when the man with the earring pressed his foot against my chest, making me wince. “Your name, what is it?” he asked seriously.

Feeling some sort of confidence build up, I looked up at him and leaned over, using the hem of his pants to wipe my mouth, but did not answer. The seriousness on his face turned into the look of someone who had been challenged; he snapped his fingers, then I heard someone say my name, my birthdate and my birthplace. Looking at the person who kept reading out loud, I saw the man with a tiger tattoo on his neck approach before tossing my wallet at me. I did not know when they had found the time to pickpocket me, but they managed to. My cheeks were burning up from the sickness, the stress and the embarrassment this entire situation brought but I still tried to keep my head high, for what it was worth. Bringing my hands to my face, I only now felt the tears that had rolled down my cheeks.

“Okay little tattletale, I think I’ll let you go for now-“ “Are you not going to kill me? Isn’t this what you do?” I asked in a weak voice, not even attempting to get up after all the time you had been mishandled. Both the man with the earring and the tattooed one were standing in front of me. The former reached out for my hand to help me get up, I did not take it, so he sighed loudly and bent over to grab my bicep and forcefully get me up. “We only kill snitches and annoying fucks, are you one of those?” I was about to tell him no when he leaned over suddenly and pressed his index against my lips to shut me up. Startled, I tried to step back but he held the back of my head with his free hand and beamed, “No, you’re not. You’re gonna be useful, you’re just the right amount of malleable,” The finger that had left my mouth moved to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, I shivered in disgust, “I can see it in your eyes that you’ll be a fun one to work with.”

I tried to pull away from him, but his hand gripped my hair tight and kept me in place, stopping me from leaning back when he approached closer, “Since you’re not a hero, we’ll make you a villain then—I mean, it’s not going to be hard considering your stance on killing.” He grimaced at that before turning it into a full laugh and letting go of me.

“Rindou, take her back to her place-“ “I’m not doing that, I got plans with Ran. Send the tiger boy, we’re done for tonight.” The one with purple hair and glasses said as he hopped off the crate, followed by the other man on it. It made the Reaper’s face turn sour as he gripped the one who had just spoken and tightened his hold on his shoulder, “I don’t do escorting, that’s your job.” He gritted through his teeth.

Seeing the tension, I put my wallet back in my bag and cleared my throat, “I’ll—I can walk home on my own, by now they must be gone-“ All of them looked at me with a threatening gaze, I felt like a deer caught in headlights. The man with the braids started walking off, Ran was his name I believe, along with the man with the tattoo on the neck, while the two others stayed right there and glared at me. When I took a step back, taking their silence for permission, the Reaper wrapped his arm around my shoulders and held me close to him, “Right, I’ll do it tonight. Just because she’s a fun one-“ “I can walk home alone, it’s no problem,” I tried to push him away, my hands were shaky and had a few scraps. Without the constant manhandling, not that I missed it, I could feel the dampness of my clothes and how cold it was getting.

Looking down at me without any expression on his face, the Reaper turned us around and waved everyone goodbye, his arm never leaving my shoulders. “We both know that’s not true, if we let you walk home alone you might get beaten up by—how did you put it? ‘Gang members’, yeah, that was what you said on the phone.” He hummed, shoving his free hand in his pocket as he guided us outside. I felt uneasy in his hold, I felt like he was walking me towards my execution. I did not want to lead him to my house, but what choice did I have? He would find it sooner or later; at least that’s what he said, but I did not know how much truth there was to it. In my eyes, it was but a small group of violent men that had killed someone.

“In the end you did get beaten up by a gang member, but it could’ve been worse.” He said lightheartedly as he stopped in front of a car. When I paused my steps and still did not look at him, simply waiting for his next move, I felt him grab my chin and turn my head towards him. My breath hitched in fear as I met his golden eyes. He seemed a bit bored now, but I couldn't care less how he felt, I wanted to bolt away from his touch. “You should disinfect that, and you’ll definitely bruise, but you probably have makeup or something to hide that.” He shrugged.

When he leaned over again, I brought my hands in front of me and closed my eyes to stop him from touching me, but I only heard him huffing a laugh next to my ear as he opened the door of the passenger seat. “Get in, I’ll drop you off.” Looking up at him, I blinked a few times then glanced at the inside of the car. I don’t know what I was expecting, something dirty, bloody, disgusting perhaps. But instead, it was perfectly clean, not a speck of dirt in sight. It looked like an expensive car, but perhaps it was just very clean, I did not know. Still unsure, I hesitantly got inside and was about to close the door but felt a certain strength holding it back. The man was leaning on the door and bent over to peek his head inside the car, thinking he needed something. I pressed myself more against the seat to let him grab what he wanted, but his hand reached for the belt and fastened it for me.

“Wouldn’t want you to escape—ah, I mean, safety first.” He said mockingly before winking and slamming the door shut. My hands found their way to the belt and held it tight as I watched him walk around the car. His steps were too big for me to make a run for it, he would catch up on me in no time, I was stuck with him. As he entered the vehicle and fastened his own seatbelt, he pointed at the glove box and handed me his gloves, “Put them back and hand me a wipe, tattletale.”

His craziness was a lot more toned down, for a second I wondered how many faces this man had. The one I was seeing right now was intimidating from how put together he seemed, the other one was scary from how unexpected his actions were. “Why aren’t you killing me?” I asked without looking at him, focused on pushing the gun out of the way inside the glove box and grabbing the little pack of wipes. Giving it to him, his brow was quirked, “Because you’re a good girl,” He grinned, wiping his hands as he continued, “No one would ever suspect you’re working with the likes of a gang. You’re gonna be useful and that’s all that matters, you should be thankful I didn’t kill you. I hate people who eavesdrop.” He said, as he shoved the wipe in the door compartment.

“I didn’t eavesdrop.” I muttered, looking outside the window when he started the car. The laugh that erupted out of nowhere scared me, making me tense again, I dared to look his way and saw his manic smile again. “So, you’re an accountant, pretty boring. You should be thrilled I chose you.” He said in a mix of pride and humor before increasing the volume of the music then drumming his fingers on the wheel. Thinking about his words some more, I glanced his way and lowered the volume, catching his attention as he looked me dead in the eyes. “What if I don’t want to work with you?” I asked, measuring my tone to not piss him off, it did not take a genius to understand this man was unstable and that I needed to tread lightly around him.

Even with as much care as I put in my voice, his reaction was sudden when he turned the wheel and stopped the car on the side of the road. Passing cars honked in annoyance but the man did not care one bit while I had slammed my hand on the dashboard to stop my head from hitting it. Insulting him under my breath, I looked up and saw he had placed his arms on the wheel, his left cheek resting on his forearm. “Then leave. Get out right now, nothing’s stopping you.”

“What’s stopping me is that you’ll kill me, or you’ll run me over, multiple times,” I could see the smile on his face was spreading, but he did not move. The condescendence in his lack of reaction, of action, annoyed me but at the same time frightened me, was he going to slam my head against the window? Against the dashboard? I did not know, but I continued, stammering this time from how nervous I was becoming, “My life is on the fucking line, that’s what’s holding me back.” I spat. My eyes had never left his, even as his smile turned into a grin and his slender fingers gripped the wheel tighter.

When he did not look away, I did. At the same time, I turned on the seat and fully looked ahead instead of facing him. A silence set for a moment then I heard the car start and the man sighed, content, “You’re smart to stay, you’re only alive because I can use you. If you had left, I’d have shot you and left you on the side of the road to die.” He said in a light tone. The words he had spoken had the same effect of a bullet; my guts took a hit without being truly hit. I did not have a choice at all, I was stuck working for a man I did not know without even knowing what I had to do.

His hand rose and I closed my eyes, flinching slightly, “Type in your address, tattletale.” With the little confidence that remained, I lifted my shaky hand and typed it in while telling him that I had a name. Then added, “You should use it. Maybe there is a name I can call you by?” I was not asking for his ID, nor anything specific, if he had a codename in his stupid gang or something like that I would go with it, but calling him Reaper in my head sounded idiotic. “Sorry doll, I think nark or snitch suits you a lot more.” He hummed a moment, throwing me a glance from the corner of his eyes as his hands moved on the wheel absent-mindedly. Huffing in annoyance, I placed my elbow against the window and rested my chin against my fist, thinking he was done. After all, why should I care what he called me? I should simply call him an asshole if he was so keen on calling me a snitch. Or perhaps I should live up to the title and do exactly that, tell the police.

A hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me out of my daydream with my head bumped against the window. Wincing in pain, I heard the man laugh loudly while being focused on the road, “That’s deserved for not paying attention.” He said through laughter. “Pay attention to what? The road? I’m not the one driving-“ “To me, you should keep your guard up, snitch. Who knows what I could do.” He said with a deadpan expression. Without looking at me, he brought his hand to tuck my hair out of the way, then glanced at me and smirked. His touch was light, almost gentle. It allowed me to get a proper look at his tattoo, but I could not focus on it at all, I only tensed up before feeling him grip my throat and bring me closer to him. I made a choking sound and complied to avoid as much pain as possible, “You can call me Hanma, as long as you don’t scream it from every fucking rooftop.”

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. This night was not going as planned at all and every time I found any respite, it would be ruined, and the man would turn violent again. I could not let my guard down, I knew it but when he would just stay put, I could not help myself but think he was done. Clearly he wasn’t. His hold lessened a bit, so I took the opportunity to claw his hand away and pull myself back, my own hand around my throat in protection. “They called you the Reaper.” I croaked, wanting him to talk more so that I wouldn’t have to.

“They did, yeah.” He shrugged.

That was it. He did not add anything else. The matter was closed. When I asked him why they did that, he pulled the car on the side of the road again, startling me in the process. With how on edge I was, I did not realize where we were and thought he would be mad again, but instead he looked over my shoulder and nodded, “That’s you, get out.” He told me as his left arm rested on the wheel while the right one was on the back of the seat, casually leaning on it while looking at me. Looking behind me, I saw my house and felt some hope at finally being able to get home and yet… I did not leave right away and instead prodded, “The news talks about your gang, how many people did you kill?” His eyes traveled from my head to my hands then up to my head again, the arrogance never leaving his face as he leaned back against the car door and waved a hand dismissively, “Take a guess, I think it should be fun.”

I was about to give him a number when he leaned forward quickly, his face right in front of mine as he whispered, “Don’t forget those in comas or those at the hospital, they might not be dead, but they might as well be,” He chuckled happily then approached even closer, his lips right next to my ear, “They’re only alive because I said they could be, like you are. One wrong move and,” leaning back quickly, he clapped his hands, “Bang, dead.” He said dead meaning those in the hospital, but I fully understood he was threatening me, I was not an idiot.

Taking this as my cue to go, I unbuckled my seatbelt and when I was about to open the door, I heard the mechanism of the car locking it. Turning around to look at Hanma, I wordlessly asked if he needed anything else. His hand reached out towards me, “Your phone.”

“I didn’t record this or anything, I was not on a call with the police either, I-“ snatching it from my hand while I was rambling, Hanma tried to unlock it but instead was met with a locked screen. Hesitantly, I took it from his hand, mine being a lot shakier than his seeing how steady his were and unlocked it before giving it back to him. A minute passed and he handed the phone back to me, “We’ll be in contact. Things are gonna change for you, doll. Hope you’re ready for what’s coming.”

He was an unusual character, he was confusing, violent, and surely insane. All of those things added up in my mind, making me accidentally let it slip, “How can one be ready with you? Crazy man…” I said it all under my breath and huffed the last part as I pushed the door open. I let out a sigh when the door opened easily, part of me even thanked the man for not keeping me in any longer but I was still on my toes, certain he would say something else as I left the car, but he did not.

Grabbing my bag, I shuffled away from the car that still hadn’t moved and kept glancing over my shoulders until I reached the door where I struggled to put the key in the keyhole. At each failed attempt my frustration grew, the swears flooded out of my mouth easily and soon it turned into a stupid crying of frustration. “Fuck this, fucking shit-“ when the key finally fit, I hurried inside and locked the door behind me again but this time with the sliding lock, knowing full well I would struggle again too much to lock my door with the key seeing how tensed I still was.

The darkness of my home was what welcomed me. It was awful, it was cold and above everything it felt oppressive—my face was heating up, I was suffocating, my clothes were burning my skin, but I was also shaking. Fanning my face, I made my way to the bathroom with heavy steps, my breath was quickening, was it breathing or heaving? I needed to calm down, I needed to ground myself but I did not know how, this never happened but I felt like I was dying. I could not breathe, my lungs hurt at each intake of breath. “Fuck, fuck, shit, calm down“ I panted while taking off my clothes, I needed to take everything off, I wanted to burn them, it was filthy, disgusting and smelled wretched.

As I took off my top, I caught a whiff of the stench of the warehouse and let out a sob but did not let it stop me even if I could not breathe. I removed the rest of my clothes and knelt by the bath, leaning over to turn the shower on but did not wait for it to be warm to step inside and let it pour all over my dirtied body. The coldness made me take a deep breath that seemed to have helped with the panic attack I was having, but it did not help the crying, so I let it all out while I was washing up. What have I gotten myself into? What happens next? What am I supposed to do now? Is he going to ask me to kill someone? Am I going to have to use a gun? I didn’t want to do any of those, I only walked by something I had nothing to do with and—letting out a scream of frustration, I sat down in the bath and let the water rain on me. I ran my hands through my wet hair and placed my elbows on my knees, grunting again, “I don’t do gangs… I do numbers, I don’t have time to murder people…” I mumbled.

Letting my own words sink in, I let out a chuckle at first and focused my gaze on the wall in front of me then laughed again, shortly. I don’t have time to murder people, yeah… “Because if you had time you would?” I asked myself jokingly as I stood up, laughing again. Shaking my head, I shut the shower off and got out, almost slipping on the water that had splattered around the bath. I hadn’t taken time to put a towel on the floor or prepare anything, fortunately I managed to balance myself and took one from the closet. Once I was dry, I wrapped my robe around my form and stopped in front of the mirror, taking a proper look at the damage I had taken.

The scratch on my cheekbone was bruised, there was another bruise on my neck that I could probably hide with a turtleneck, the season allowed it, and if not with a turtleneck then a scarf would do the trick. Disrobing myself just to take a look at the rest of it, I had some bruises on my arms where I was grabbed to be moved roughly, without counting the pain on my ass but no one would see that. Passing my tongue over my teeth, I was glad as I still had all of them, but my jaw hurt, “Did I bite the inside of my cheek? At what moment could-“ A flashback of when the man slapped me with full force appeared in my mind, fueling me with a bad feeling of uneasiness as I put back my robe. “Bastard…” I huffed before opening the door of my bathroom and stepping inside the dark room again. Talking to myself, I continued, “Nothing’s stopping me from telling the police, who does he think he is? I could very well call them, yeah…” I paused in my steps and scoffed dryly, “Not that they’d listen.”

The news was always talking about the gangs in the city, telling us that the police were working on stopping them, but no one knew the people that were supposed to defend and help were a bunch of sellouts, bribed out idiots. The system we had put our trust in had decided to fuck us over and to leave us to ourselves, it was because of them that I was in this situation. It’s not like it had been hard to stumble upon one of their gang meetings. They might claim discretion, but if anyone could find them, it was anything but. “Who am I kidding? I am fucked,” I barked a laugh and turned on the light, “Guess I am a gang member-“ I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the man my thoughts were plagued with, sitting on my couch, his legs crossed with one ankle over a knee. “Not exactly, you still need to prove yourself. But I love the enthusiasm!” He said while placing an arm on the back of the couch and looking at me with a satisfied smile, not even fully facing me, only to look right ahead once he was done talking.

Usually, one would say don’t turn your back on your enemy, but he was the predator here, he had nothing to fear, I was the one shaking in my metaphorical boots. Deciding to not be useless, I was about to shuffle to the kitchen discretely when I saw him beckon me closer by bending his index finger. Thinking I could play it off as not having seen it, I took one step towards the kitchen when I heard him click his tongue over his teeth, “I said, come here.” Stopping dead in my tracks, I did not speak, and silently opened my bag to pull out my phone and start recording. His hand gripped the back of the couch and I heard him chuckle mockingly, “Ran said you were stupid, but we both know you’re not, now come.” Putting the phone properly on the furniture, I followed his order and walked up to him to stand right in front of him, my arms crossed over my chest to close my bathrobe up to my neck.

“How the fuck did you get in?” I spat. He was not driving, which meant he could not throw me out of a speeding car. He was not surrounded by other maniacs either, and if he had a gun and decided to shoot me, I would have proof of it. There was a semblance of safety, even amidst the fact that the man had broken in without caring. It led me to have some confidence.

The man grinned and leaned over, his elbows resting on his knees. His demeanor was one of a man in control, he knew he could do anything to me because I would bend, he said it himself, I was malleable. But not for lack of will, simply by fear. And if he kept bending me this much, I would not last long, I would break. As long as I feared him, he had the upper hand… but I was not feeling fearless yet. With a low chuckle, he simply said, “Broke in with pliers,” then showed me the pair of pliers lying on the couch. I glanced at my door and saw the chain of my lock was broken as he had said, but that loss of attention directed to him annoyed him. Snapping his fingers, he brought my attention back to him, “Here, you should make a double of your key-“ “I’m not doing that. First, you’ll pay me back for breaking my lock, then if you want to meet up for whatever you got planned for me, you pick a spot but not-“

My breath hitched when Hanma rapidly stood up, his form towering mine as he looked down at me with his hair falling randomly on his forehead. “We got a lotta confidence suddenly, don’t we? Go ahead, finish your sentence, I’m listening.” He cooed in a condescending tone, his face approaching mine as he hovered slightly over me. Looking up at him, I looked down to his chest feeling my confidence wane slightly. When I tried to step back, not liking how close he was to me, he placed his hand on my shoulder to stop me. “Come on partner, let it all out, you seem to have a lot on your mind. Keeping it all bottled up ain’t gonna end up well. We should get along if we’re gonna work together, yeah?” He said in a fake listening attitude, we both knew he didn’t care but I was riled up and clenched my fists.

“I don’t want you in my house, you’re a piece of shit. I don’t want to get along, I want you to fuck off—Get out.” I managed to say everything without stuttering, but his grip tightened on my shoulder, making me tense up even if it was not painfully tight. Simply knowing that nothing was holding him back, not his mind, nor his ethics, nothing. His mood was the turning point of his actions, which means one change of emotion could make him go feral and hit me, it scared me. Hissing mockingly, he tilted my chin up to make me look at him, a smirk adorning his face, “Make me leave then, do something about it.” Grabbing both my shoulders, he pushed me back slightly then spread his arms wide, a huge smile on his face, “Go ahead, I won’t do anything—it’s free hits,” He taunted. When I did not move, he pointed at his face and licked his lips like an animal looking at its next meal.

“Do it, show me your guts, little rat! I hit you right? I put a gun to your head, that must be so annoying, right?” Biting the inside of my cheek, I could feel my frustration building up inside me again. He had done all those things, and no regret was written on his face, none. He had killed a man, broken inside my house, manhandled me and hit me. He had mocked me, humiliated me, mistreated me and while it all happened in a short time span, I already felt strongly about him. Reminding myself all that, I hadn’t realized the hit that flew from my person until it landed on his jaw, my fist feeling like it had hit a wall. His face turned to the side by the end of the action.

Using the heel of his hand to wipe the blood that dripped from his mouth, he looked at me with hooded eyes and grinned, his teeth colored red, “That’s hot, but ye shouldn’t have done that.”

[Part 2]

#tokyo revengers #hanma shuji #hanma x reader #hanma shuji x reader #fanfiction #writing #writers #physicalturian AO3 #physicalturian #deranged love #archive of our own #tokyo revengers hanma #tokyo revengers x reader

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crumbledcastle28 · 3 years ago

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Chapter 8: An Apology

Warnings: depression, suicidal thoughts, references to an incredibly painful past, references to murder, references to torture, lots of crying, references of being shot/stabbed. This is really heavy, so please proceed with caution.

Author’s Note: Thank you to EVERYONE who has shown any support for this! I am very proud of this series and it makes me very happy people are enjoying it 💜

(I cannot remember where I got this gif from, so if it’s yours please let me know so I can credit you!)

After Mando left, you sat in your silent sobs for what felt like hours.

It could have been hours for all you knew. It’s not like you cared anyway.

All you did was sit in your guilt and shame, allowing yourself to digest all you’ve done. You have been pushing this down for so long, and now it feels like there is no stopping it.

A person can only pretend for so long, and you would give anything to just go back in time and reverse it all.

So many faces flash in your memory of people you’ve killed and cheated for the Empire, and it’s an absolute hell. None of these people deserved what they got. None of them. And yet you still did it.

No matter how many excuses you make for how you became a part of the Empire and all the torture they put you through, you still did it. You are still an enemy to the people you held so dear after so little time.

You are a monster.

After a while, you hear Mando’s footsteps entering Kuiil’s house again. You don’t even know where Kuiil is, you honestly forgot he even existed.

Maybe he will forgive me, you think to yourself. We were in a similar situation?

You see Mando’s helmet enter through the doorway and you feel the smallest, tiniest fraction of butterflies you once had for the man returning.

But the butterflies are immediately squashed when you remember you are about to be thrown out. Again.

Just because you handled it once before doesn’t mean you have the strength to go through that now. Especially after everything you’ve done.

You feel his eyes scanning your pathetic, patched up form on the ground, and the storm inside of you starts to rumble again.

Please… please not again.

He sits down on the opposite side of the ship, resting his hands on his knees. He folds his hands, and you swear you hear him take a deep breath.

“She needs to calm down, that’s all,” he says, referring to Cara, and you find some strength to nod. Your eyes are burning and your muscles want to explode from exhaustion. Your mind is keeping you awake, while the rest of your body just wants to sleep.

“I…. I wouldn’t have let her kill you,” he says, and you shut your eyes, feeling the tears start to rise again.

Why, you think to yourself. It would be easier for everyone if I was just dead!

You still somehow keep yourself together, wiping your nose with your sleeve. He can see how much pain you are in, but you were praying he didn’t pity you. You didn’t deserve it. Especially from him.

“I have only heard stories about red lightsabers. They belong to an evil, dark side of the powers that the kid has,” he says, and you nod.

He has to understand. You know he understands. He always has.

“They’re called Sith… right,” he asks, and you finally make eye contact with him.

“Yes,” you croak out. Your voice sounds like you hadn’t talked for a hundred years, but Mando just nodded.

Yes, you think to yourself. I am a Sith.

The fact that Mando knows who and what you are now is the weirdest combination of feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders, but at the same time, one double the weight has been added.

He was talking so gently. Like he didn’t want to rub it in your face.

He has to be doing this so I don’t kill him when he kicks me out, you think.

Why else would he have any respect for me? No one else ever has?

He takes a moment to process, and then he asks, “The Emperor was a Sith… wasn’t he?”

You feel like a sword has been stabbed through you one final time, but you don’t want to make him feel like he’s hurting you, so you just nod slowly.

You have to save your strength for when he asks you to leave. You know he will ask you in that calm, gentle voice that will haunt you forever.

He understands you fought for the Empire. You killed, destroyed, and lied for them. Their blood is forever stained on your hands, and now you got Mando bloodied.

He deserves an explanation, or at least an apology, so you mumble a quiet “um,” signifying you were about to speak.

Even if he doesn’t believe you, he needs to know you didn’t want this. Ever.

“My uh… my parents sold me,” you mumble while sniffling.

You can tell his interest is peaked because his entire body leans forward, silently asking you to continue.

How can he even look at me right now?

You proceed to tell him the story of how your parents were servants to an evil family who never gave them a fair pay. They were incredibly poor, and they had you outside of wedlock, so they were looked down upon even more in their society. They hated you for it. They took any chance they could get to get you away from them.

When the Empire came to your planet looking for recruits, your parents jumped on the offer. They didn’t mind the extra handful of credits that came with it too.

“No matter how much I hated them, they were still my parents,” you say.

“I didn’t want to leave them, so when the stormtroopers went to drag me away, I got so angry. I didn’t know it at the time, but the force channeled through me in my anger. I used all my strength, and sent them all flying through the air,” you say, while laughing uncomfortably at the memory.

Your eyes still burned and your muscles screamed for relief, but you had to keep going. Mando deserved to know the truth.

“That’s the last thing I remember of that day, and the next thing I knew, I was sent into training. I went through countless masters, but none of them could control me. I was just so angry. All the time,” you said with a sigh.

“I would refuse to do what they asked, and even when I did what I was told, I would hurt them instead. I never listened.”

You took a deep breath. This next part was going to hurt.

“They finally realized that I could not be controlled, so they….. tortured me,” you say, trying not to allow the weakness in your voice to show through.

If you got emotional, it was more likely Mando would think you were crazy. You had to keep pushing.

You cleared your throat, and continued.

“They made me do everything, Mando. They made me tear down towns, cities, planets. And if the people didn’t succumb to the Empire’s rule…,” you say, and you can’t even finish the sentence.

“I finally got away years later, and I escaped to Tattooine. They tried to stop me, but it was no use. I could beat any stormtrooper or Imperial guard they threw at me,” you say.

“They hurt me enough to know that I wouldn’t come back…… I hadn’t even come close to helping anyone but myself until I met you,” you say.

You take a deep breath and rub your eyes.

You did it, you think. He knows.

You let him digest your story. He listened intently and respectfully the entire time you were speaking. He never interrupted, he never became angry, he just stared at you and digested it all.

It was quiet for a while, until he stood up.

“The Empire killed my family,” he said, and all your composure went out the window.

You assumed that the Empire hurt him, it has hurt everyone, but this is on another level. It felt like you had been shot again, but this was way more painful. Your heart shattered for him.

You always knew the universe was cruel, but you had done horrific things, so you always thought it was payback. Now you knew the universe was truly cruel.

“I am….. so sorry,” you manage to say through your burning throat. Tears were streaming down your face, but you managed to stay relatively quiet. It’s not like crying for them would bring Mando’s family back.

He moved to you slowly and kneeled down in front of you.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. You just stared at the floor and wiped your eyes. You were hurting him, just like you hurt everyone else. It felt like hell on earth and you were convinced you were the worst person that ever lived.

“You… you don’t have to believe me Mando. I know I hurt so many people, and even if I didn’t want to, I still did what they asked,” you say, trying to fill up the space.

“You can kick me out, kill me. Anything. I just want you to know that I didn’t choose this. I swear on everything I would do anything to be any other person in the whole galaxy.”

You finish and finally meet his gaze, begging him to say something. Anything.

He stands to leave, and you finally accept your fate.

He gets to the doorway, your final hopes of forgiveness leaving with him.

“I believe you,” he mumbles, looking back at you.

“We will talk more tomorrow” he says, and he leaves you.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @bookloverfilmoholic @farfromjustordinary @440mxs-wife

#din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

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monodipita · 3 years ago

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PLATINUM (Yandere!Jotaro x Reader)

Hello! I just wanted to mention that this is a part of a series on AO3. All of the works are old and were written back when I had a funky writing style, so I don't believe they're worthy of being put on my Tumblr right now. Check out the series though if you enjoyed this one! <3

Word count: 1,740

Warnings: Yandere content warning, blood, gore, mean yandere Jotaro

Of course you couldn't expect a response from Jotaro over something as big as this... but this man never really said anything at all or did anything at all for that matter. The relationship felt one-sided as is - and on top of that, Jotaro didn't seem to be interested at all in having a relationship. You felt unwanted. And now, it was finally time to put your foot down. This guy was still not saying anything.

"Look at you!" You exclaimed at him with a swell of upset and fury, "you aren't even saying anything! It's like you didn't want to be in a relationship with me to begin with!"

Nothing. Not even a change of facial expression - he just stared at you with his usual expression, half of it covered by his ridiculous hat. One, two. . . no. You merely scoffed and flipped his hat off of his head, glaring at his newly-exposed face before turning on your heel and walking away from him. "No more, Jotaro! No more, we are through!"

But that wasn't the end of Jotaro it seemed. He began to tail you, there wasn't even a pause to go pick up his hat. He just started following you without any motive. It was so creepy. You knew it was him without even having to turn around because you could hear the jingling of his chains colliding with one another, it meant that he was matching your brisk pace, trying to reach out to you, but you wouldn't hear it nor would you fall for it.

You needed to run.

Soon after the thought, your body began to pick up the pace to match what you currently felt at the moment. You ran as quickly as you could muster in your school uniform to the nearest bathroom, your heart beating like drums in your ear, fear quickly rising in the beating organ as you hit the door of the bathroom, pushing yourself inside and kicking your way to the bathroom stall. No one was there but you—and that wasn't good at all. Maybe he would leave you alone then? You didn't even know if he followed you to begin with when you started running, but your safe assumption was that he did. At least you were offered this brief moment of respite in this bathroom stall. The silence was both unnerving and calming at the same time. You felt as if you couldn't sit still.

"[Y/N]. I know you're in there." Jotaro's voice sounded eerily calm from this distance. "I'll go in there if I have to. Don't make me do it."

Now you felt the need to panic. You were worried about what he was going to do to you once you stepped out of this very stall. Beat you? Or worse, even kill you? While you weren't afraid of him going far or even doing something like that, for some reason you just felt. . . scared. You didn't want to and felt like you couldn't face him without something bad happening. You stayed still in your spot and didn't make a single word from the stall that you sat in. You hoped that he just... wouldn't come in here, even if he was threatening you with it.

"[Y/N]."

...

"[Y/N]."

No, no matter how irate his voice became, you never wanted to leave this spot. You squeezed your eyes shut and curled up on the toilet seat over the fear that he would be coming into this very bathroom, over to this very stall. You held your breath and waited for him to leave.

"It's because of him, isn't it [Y/N]? That guy that you've been talking to recently behind my back- it's him, isn't it? He's the reason why you're considering leaving me?" You chose not to answer. The more it just seemed like you weren't there, the easier it became to relax.

Complete silence.

Your body was rigid with anxiety, and you were stricken with fear. But, you needed to get up, and you needed to get out of here. Maybe he was either waiting, or he actually left to continue on with his business—you assumed both because he definitely seemed more than pissed off right now, but at the same time, he was never the one to pursue you if you got into an argument. However, that didn't really express how he was feeling right now. He was... angry at your words. Angry that you wanted to stop the relationship and move on. It was a much weirder, almost darker side of him that you didn't want to see.

After some waiting, you wordlessly stepped from your position in the bathroom stall and completely moved out of it, into the open of the bathroom. You could see yourself in a mirror when you looked to your left. A small puddle of water wasn't too far away from the very first stall closest to the bathroom. You barely had time to even breathe before you could hear the rustling of the doorknob of the bathroom, you darted helplessly into one of them instead of utilizing your surroundings and simply retreating back into the one you were just in. You muffled your whimpers with your hand going over your mouth (though it truly didn't do any good) as you heard Jotaro walking into the bathroom, or who you assumed to be. . . until you noticed that there were two pairs of footsteps. The horror on your face when you realized that they were speaking with each other.

"L-look, man, I don't want any trouble! Please, could you let me down—" that voice... it was so recognizable. Was that. . . [bestfriend name]? What was Jotaro doing!?

The scuffed sounds of feet squeaking against the floor were a sure sign that your friend was being dragged across the ground. Jotaro said nothing to your friend, presumably carrying the same wordless demeanor he had from before he left when he was now dealing with your friend. You could only bow your head in fear and hope that he wouldn't do anything to him.

"Hey—what are you—AAAAH!"

The disturbing and traumatizing noise of bone and flesh colliding with the sink of the bathroom was perhaps the worst sound you'd ever heard in your life. In the thick silence that followed for just a split moment, you tried not to make a single peep as the tears slid down your cheeks. He couldn't find out that you were here, or maybe, just maybe you would be next.

"What did you do to [Y/N]? Why does [Y/N] want to leave me? You poisoned [Y/N]." Jotaro's gruff voice asked to the sack of flesh and bone underneath him. Your wide eyes could see the two of them in the puddle left undisturbed on the ground. . . almost like he knew you were looking, but you could already see the damage done to the poor guy he was dealing with. [bestfriend name]'s teeth were gone, knocked out. Blood smeared his lips and cheeks. It was a horrid sight.

"W-what are you talking about?? I didn't do anything to [Y/N]! I only said to be yourself and let him know how you f—"

Another sickening smash filled your ears. "Not a good enough answer," Jotaro answered loudly over the sounds of [bestfriend name]'s screaming. "I DON'T KNOW!" He cried out to Jotaro, "PLEASE! PLEASE ST- AAAAH!"

You let out a sob as a final smash against the sink was heard—the sink underneath the boy falling to the ground underneath, emitting a piercing, loud noise around the entire bathroom. The boy fell to the ground as well, but Jotaro was quick to pull him up to act as both a shield from the water and letting the guy know that he wasn't fully done with him yet. "You're going to help me find [Y/N], or I'm going to kill you."

"I-I don't know where [Y/N] i—" he was silenced, but you don't know how he became so. Your worry became so paramount that you dashed out of the bathroom, ready to piss yourself running right now, but you were determined to at least get your friend some help.

"Stop!" You cried to Jotaro, "he doesn't need to be involved in this! I made this decision on my own!"

Jotaro glanced over at [bestfriend's name]. "Do you hear that? My babe said you get to walk away free. Consider yourself lucky." He dropped the guy from the tall height he held him at.

[bestfriend name] stumbled forward, his eyes staring at you, bug-eyed and nearly bloodshot. He made it two steps before you. Two, single, steps before you, before Jotaro took the boy's skull into his massive hand and smashed the boy's skull against the wall next to the two of you. Your eyes were glued open as they watched his body slide down the wall, to the floor, where blood pooled underneath his body. You flinched and screamed at the noise of your friend being so brutally murdered to only see the grisly sight of the aftermath, bloodied and disfigured by the hefty slam into the wall, and more importantly, lifeless.

By then, your fight-or-flight response kicked in. You turned on your heel almost immediately and sprinted to the door, but Jotaro was right on your ass. He pinned you to the door and laughed at you as you helplessly screamed and pounded against the door, saying, "you're so silly [Y/N], no wonder I found you to be so attractive. But, I think this is getting a little annoying now, don't you think?" He reached around and grabbed you by your frozen shoulder, turning you around to face him. His hand was quick to clamp onto your lips, ultimately forcing you to silence and even calm down.

You were left to stare into those deep blue eyes of his in horror, though the tears overpowered your sight and eventually left Jotaro to be nothing more but a blur.

"Why are you crying, [Y/N]? I think you should be happy. Look," he pulled his hand away from your lips to pull you into his body, crushing you even and holding you tightly as he made you turn and face your best friend. "He's dead now, so there's no one in the way of our relationship anymore. We are free to be together for as long as I can say 'you're mine'.“

#jojo's bizzare adventure stardust crusaders #jjba x reader #yandere x reader #jotaro x reader #yandere #jotaro kujo #yandere jotaro #gender neutral insert #reader insert

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rotworld · 3 years ago

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3: Salamander

The apprentices of Magister Hezethril seem to be dying of horrific accidents with suspicious frequency.

->contains gore, murder, non-consensual touching, yandere, threats, and extreme power imbalance (basically teacher/student).

There’s a commotion in the hallway. A crowd of apprentices, swarming together in a sea of black cloaks, have gathered in the open doorway of the alchemy laboratory. But there’s no excitement among them, no jovial anticipation. They’re whispering and weeping, clinging to one another anxiously. Your heart skips a beat. It can’t be. Not again. You push your way through the crowd, refusing to believe it until you see it with your own eyes, ignoring the voices all around you.

“...looks like Bianca…”

“...the third this week…”

“...couldn’t have done this to herself…”

“Excuse me,” you mutter, shouldering past a pair of gawking boys. You’re hardly a step into the room when the stench hits you, sharp and unnatural, rust and ozone. Something pale green and foul-smelling is spilled across the stone floor, dripping from an upended cauldron, but what’s worse is the blood. You can follow a trail of pain and slow suffering; a bloody handprint on the glass case in the back of the room. A smear across the table. A spattered drag across the floor, all the way to the lifeless body of an apprentice, her hands frozen in rigor mortis claws in front of her face. Her mouth is still open in a silent scream.

“What in the seven hells is going on in here?”

The words crack like a whip through the tense air, cold and razor sharp. The crowd parts silently, allowing Magister Hezethril into the laboratory. You make way for him, scrambling out of his path. The Magister is imposing in his long red robes, towering above the apprentices and pushing them aside with webbed hands. His bronze skin turns ink black halfway down his extremities, his nails lacquered with gold. He sweeps forward wordlessly, tendrils of long black hair waving in his wake. His frightening eyes, spots of gold in black sclera, fall upon the dead apprentice. He scowls in distaste. “Who was in the room when this happened?” he asks.

A trembling apprentice steps forward, a young man with blood on his hands. “I was,” he says hoarsely. “I came in to use the lab. Bianca was already here, working on something. She dropped something into the cauldron, I didn’t see what. But all of the sudden, she was gasping and convulsing. She started,” he swallows hard, his hands trembling, “scratching. At her own throat. I tried to stop her, but she fought me. She just kept scratching. There was this awful, wet noise, and then she…” One of the other apprentices puts an arm around him as he begins to sob.

“I see,” Magister Hezethril says. He turns on his heel and walks away. “Clean this up,” he orders, leaving shaken apprentices in his wake. Some scatter, eager to be far away from the gruesome mess, but you stay with a handful of others. The young man who saw Bianca die sits, unresponsive, against the wall. He’s going to need all the help he can get. Several apprentices cover Bianca with a white sheet and take the body away. You and a few of your peers begin scrubbing blood from the floor. You wince at the fleshy chunks of tissue among the mess.

Luca finds something in the bottom of the cauldron that makes him wrinkle his nose. “She was poisoned,” he mutters. “This brew was extremely toxic. No one in their right mind would have brewed it, but there’s some kind of residue in the bottom. I think she was sabotaged.” He pinches a fine, ashy dust between his fingers. You can’t recognize it anymore, singed as it is, but you believe him. The smell in the room leaves a distinct burning sensation in your throat.

Beside you, Sheila squeaks, “Sabotage?” She’s had to leave the room twice to vomit, and she looks like she might need to again.

“It’s not unheard of,” Phoebe says, shrugging. She wipes Bianca’s bloodied handprints from the cabinets. “Lots of mage apprentices die under suspicious circumstances. It’s new apprentices, usually. Young, impulsive, trying to compete. They just want to get ahead.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Sheila insists. “What’s there to compete over, anyway? The Magister hates all of us.”

That gets a bitter chuckle from everyone in the room. Working together, you get the laboratory cleaned up in no time, every trace of blood and poison mopped up and disposed of. It leaves an empty feeling within you. It feels like you do this more and more often lately, erasing all traces of your fellow apprentices. Memorial services, if there are any, happen in the distant hamlets and villages where the apprentices came from. Life in the Magister’s tower goes on uninterrupted and you’re expected to behave as though the sudden holes opened up at certain desks and in certain dormitories simply do not exist.

The others are thinking about it now. You can feel that heaviness in the air even with the body gone and all traces of death washed away. Accidents happen anywhere you gather inexperienced mages, but not nearly this many, not so close together. There’s a field south of the tower full of fresh graves and wooden crosses. “Why isn’t the Magister doing anything?” Sheila whimpers. “Is this what he wants? Are we all supposed to kill each other until only one of us is left?”

“Of course not,” you insist. You give her the water pail you were going to use to rinse your hands, letting her take it first. She sniffles as she scrubs Bianca from beneath her nails. “The Magister must know something’s happening. Maybe he’s just being careful. He doesn’t want to say anything until he’s certain he knows who’s responsible.”

“Are you kidding? Magisters get off on things like this,” Phoebe says, rolling her eyes. “It’s a power trip for them. You saw how he looked at Bianca, right? Like she was an insect. He only cares about his favorites. Bet you get extra credit for offing somebody.”

“That’s awful,” you tell her.

She shrugs. “That’s life.”

“I assume you’re done in here if you have time to gossip.”

The Magister’s voice is like ice down your back. Sheila practically sprints from the room. Phoebe sheepishly greets him and keeps her head down as she leaves. Luca eyes the Magister suspiciously but passes without a word. “Magister,” you address him, bowing your head. He holds out his arm when you try to step past him.

“Just a moment, apprentice,” he says. You’ve heard him speak to your peers, reducing them to tears with nothing but his hard gaze alone. But when he looks at you, his strange gaze softens with affection. He says “apprentice” as though it’s a term of endearment. You shift uneasily, peering into the hallway behind him in search of your friends, but they’re long gone. A sinking feeling overtakes you when he bumps the laboratory door with his elbow, shutting it behind him. “I won’t keep you long,” he assures you. “Solstice preparations will begin soon. Could I persuade you to assist me?”

Could I persuade you, he says. A phrase unheard of, coming from the mouth of an elder mage. They don’t ask favors. They don’t plead or beg. They give orders, and apprentices jump to follow them. Magister Hezethril is no different, but for you, he will dress up the truth in pretty language, will say it sweetly so it scares you less. But you know better. You hear the threat unspoken. His hand hooks beneath your chin, demanding eye contact. The webbing between his fingers is soft and damp, slick against your skin. “Yes, Magister,” you say quietly. “I would be happy to assist you.”

The Magister’s smiles are uncomfortable, too wide and hungry, too inhuman. “Excellent,” he says. “See to it that your schedule is open, I’ll need you the next few evenings for preliminary research.”

“Of course,” you say. “But, ah, I will need tomorrow evening to myself.”

“Oh?” the Magister says, sounding so unconcerned and casual that you almost slip up, forget who you’re talking to. “And why is that?” You try, subtly, to slip out of his grasp. A mistake, you realize too late, Magister Hezethril’s pupils narrow into slits and he corners you against the back cabinets, slamming his hand against the wooden panels beside your head. You hear the cabinet door splinter, feel it shaking and collapsing inward. You hold your breath. The Magister bends slightly from his great height, his gaze piercing and heated. “Where are you going, apprentice?” he hisses. “Why the rush? Are you hiding something from me?”

“I’m not, I swear I’m not,” you insist, too weak and hesitant to convince him. You can never lie to him. He always drags the truth out, one way or another. “I just...I promised one of the others that I’d tutor them in incantation.”

The Magister makes a frightening, inhuman sound, somewhere between a hiss and a growl, flashing fangs and a black, forked tongue. “This again?” he mutters. “How many times must I tell you that you are above them? They do not deserve your attention. How could you possibly learn everything I have to teach you when you are too busy with these wastrels you call your peers?” He doesn’t give you time to answer, nor the space to breathe. His sharp nails trace your jaw, titling your face towards him when you try to turn away. He looms so close you can smell the fire in his lungs, magic that could reduce you to ash if he so desired.

“It would be such a shame, wouldn’t it, if another apprentice were to die,” he murmurs, looming inches from you, his breath warming your lips. “Such a terrible waste. So many accidents these last few months. So many dead.”

“Please,” you whisper, clutching his shoulders. His robes bunch up beneath your grip but it’s worthless. He’s so much older and stronger than you. “Please don’t hurt anyone else.”

Magister Hezethril tilts his head, drinking in your fear and submission. He traces your lips with the sharp tip of one nail. “Are you available tomorrow, apprentice?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say shakily. “Yes, I swear, I’m all yours.”

It’s just what he wants to hear. Smiling, he pulls you into his chest. Gently, he smooths down your hair where it ruffled against the cupboards, pushing the creases from your cloak. But he pauses as he does this, catching sight of the thick turtleneck fabric you’re wearing beneath. He toys with it, peeling it down to expose tender flesh. You shiver under the attention, the careful stroke of his fingers along your pulse. “You aren’t just yet,” he says. “But that’s alright. I can be very, very patient.”

You wince when he slices into you, just enough to break the skin. He rolls your turtleneck back up. The wound throbs hot underneath. “See you tomorrow, apprentice,” he purrs. You nod numbly. The laboratory opens and slams the shut, the sound echoing off the stone walls.

#rotpeach writes #teratotober #i know salamander seems like a weird one lol #but they were traditionally given mystical properties in various cultures #so this one is a mage lol

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sirenascales · 4 years ago

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-> double black [part five] 18+

-> Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai

-> Who knew getting fired from work could lead to this?

-> Content: SMUT, slight angst, violence, murder, swearing

The killer is revealed! What surprises are in store? [Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai]

2,420 words

warning: mentions of domestic violence and rape, violence and straight up murder

note: here we go... this is the second to last chapter :) hope you all enjoy reading! no smut again lol

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Final || masterlist

"This place... is creepy as hell," I mumbled under my breath, glancing curiously over at Dazai as we climbed out of the car and started walking towards the large abandoned factory. "Are you sure this is where Ranpo told us to go?"

"Yep~ He's usually never wrong, so there must be something here we can find~" Dazai sang, nonchalantly walking inside the factory. I sighed deeply and quickly followed him, shivering at the creepy aura it gave off.

"Ugh, does somebody really hide out here? It's giving me the creeps," I whined, hugging myself and rubbing my hands up and down my arms.

"What if there are ghosts here?" Dazai wondered and I shuddered deeply, fear striking my heart at the mere thought.

"Don't say that!"

"Will you two shut up?" A third voice spoke up and my eyes widened in surprise.

"Chuuya? What are you doing here? And... who's that?"

In the middle of the factory, Chuuya stood before a man tied up to a single chair, a linen bag over his head. Chuuya had a deep frown on his face, obviously extremely irritated with something.

"Wh-who is that?! Please, help me!" The man begged, howling in pain when Chuuya kicked him in the stomach.

"Shut the hell up!"

"Is that the one?" Dazai asked and Chuuya nodded. I looked at them in confusion.

"The one... what?"

"This," Chuuya started. "Is the one that's been stealing from the Port Mafia for well over a year. Along with that bastard Taichi."

My jaw fell open in shock, not expecting that at all. "Wh-what do you mean stealing?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. Taichi was in charge of moving product and bringing back the cash from the Northern area of the city. He's been getting his hands in the product, selling them little by little on the side to line his pockets." Chuuya seemed to grow angrier and angrier by the second as he explained. "We've been investigating that thief for three months and we finally pieced it together. Thanks to you." Chuuya's angry gaze is now on me and I feel my heart drop to the ground.

"What do you mean? Me?" I stuttered, looking over to the man as he began to struggle in his chair. He rocked from side to side, pleading loudly for his life.

"Please, let me go!"

There was a large bang! followed by a scream as Chuuya swiftly brought out a handgun, shooting the man right in the head. I was the one who screamed.

"I hate disloyalty," Chuuya spat, his voice cold. His equally icy glare narrowed on Dazai, who didn't even react to the man being killed, unlike myself. My now shaking hands were clamped over my mouth, in shock by what I've just witnessed.

"So tell me," Chuuya began, now turning to face me. "How is it that you knew that Taichi was meeting a drug dealer... the dead man at your feet specifically?" He didn't even give me a chance to answer before he continued. "How did you know that? Were you there?"

I rapidly shook my head, heart thudding in my chest. "No!" I exclaimed, taking a step back.

"Really? Taichi was killed in the South. That wasn't his area, and he wasn't even assigned to move the product. Hasn't been for months since the investigation started." Chuuya's voice was even, and it sent shivers down my spine. I took another step back. "Well? Explain yourself."

I gulped, absolute fear coursing through my body. I could feel the sweat slide down my temple and. "W-well, I overheard him talking about what he does for you. So! I just assumed..."

Chuuya scoffed, laughing dryly. "Plausible, yes." He dug into his coat's inner pocket and I gasped sharply when he held up my knife. I was stunned, thinking I had lost it, but Chuuya had it all along. Suddenly, that day I went to visit him in his office ran through my head, and I realized that was when I last saw my knife. Fuck.

I felt a sense of dread wash over me.

"I know you take excellent care of this knife, clean it regularly. Except for the blood in the hilt."

"And the bloody clothes I found under the sink in your bathroom," Dazai finally spoke up and I gasped sharply. "You probably should have thrown those clothes away before you had me sleep over. You know I like to snoop," He continued on as I clenched my shaking fists. Dazai circled around so he and Chuuya now stood before me, tall and intimidating. "You're the killer, aren't you? Actually, you don't have to answer that. We already know that you are."

I didn't say anything, my lips pulled in a thin line as I stared at the ground. I started to breathe a bit heavily, heart pounding and my blood boiling with the anger and rage I tried to keep at bay from the moments I wake up in the morning to the time I go to sleep at night.

"Well?" Chuuya yelled, growling. "Aren't you gonna say anything?! You killed him!"

I lifted my head up, and the two men looked genuinely surprised at the look in my face, eyes dark and narrow and full of anger. I was seething, but I couldn't help the sick, twisted smile that grew on my face. "And what if I did?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. "Hell hath no fury, right?"

Suddenly, there was an almost inhuman shriek as a figure jumped out from behind the men, knife brandished and slicing right at Dazai. Dazai luckily dodged it, the figure landing on its feet before standing tall. Dazai and Chuuya are both shocked, as they now stared at the perfect clone of myself. The clone didn't give Dazai any time to process, running towards him again and slicing almost wildly with the knife in hand.

"My, what a turn of events!" Dazai exclaimed a bit excitedly, taking in my clone's features. She looked exactly like me, except she looked more wild, her face contorted into one full of rage, anger and anguish with a seemingly endless stream of tears pouring down her face. Her movements were erratic, cries leaving her mouth as she lunged for the attack.

Meanwhile, I had engaged in a fight with Chuuya, but even I could immediately tell just how outmatched I was and that I had no hopes of beating him. Still, I threw a punch at him, able to get him right in his cheek, but he quickly retaliated with a harsh kick to my side. I cried out in pain, clutching my side.

"Are you crazy," Chuuya hissed. "Ability user or not, I'm one of the best martial artists in the Port Mafia! You're not beating me!" He dodged yet another of my punches, jumping back before he kicked me again right on my torso. I grunted in pain, falling on one knee.

"I'm afraid I don't like you," Dazai told my clone as he ducked down to dodge a wild swing. He quickly shot up, successfully headbutting the clone. She cried out in pain, covering her face with her hands as she fell back, Dazai reaching out to grab one of her wrists. As soon as he did so, she disappeared, his ability coming into effect. He let out a tired whew! dusting his hands off before turning to the fight between Chuuya and I.

Even if Chuuya did outmatch me, I tried to keep fighting him, until he suddenly grabbed me and threw me hard on the ground. I gasped, the wind knocked out of me. "Fuck!" I cursed, struggling to breathe as I tried to stand up. I am forced right back on my knees, a hand pressing on my neck. My anger disappeared, and by then, I knew that it was Dazai.

Now that all my anger, and fury was gone, all I had left was the immeasurable despair that settled in my chest, tears now freely sliding down my cheeks. I couldn't stop my sobbing, feeling the two men's wide eyes on me.

"He was beating her!" I cried out, just desperate for them to hear me out before they passed their judgements on me. "Taichi... was beating Keiko and... I never knew! She's been my best friend ever since I moved here and I never had a clue! Not one! Until that day she called me.. when I was at your place," I glanced at Dazai, lip quivering as I struggled to continue. "I went home and when she came over... I knew something was wrong I... then she took off her clothes and there wasn't an inch of her skin below her neck that wasn't covered in bruises I-"

I choked up, covering my face as I started to sob uncontrollably, the pain of once seeing my friend who was so full of life, looking like a scared, beaten animal as she stood before me. As I cried, Dazai and Chuuya looked at each other, just stunned beyond words.

"I knew..." I spoke up after a moment. "That one of these days, he would actually kill her. That's why she was so afraid to leave him. He was already beating her, and raping her, what would stop him from killing her if she defied him?! Huh?!" Even with Dazai still holding onto the back of my neck, I started to grow angry. "So, I killed him. I killed him before he could have a chance to kill her!" I then stared at Chuuya in his blue eyes. "And I'll do it again."

"After Taichi dropped Keiko off at my apartment, I snuck out through the emergency stairwell and back exit to follow him. The building is old, so I knew there were no cameras."

I carefully kept the hood of my hoodie over my head as I followed Taichi from a distance, a determined look on my face, one that said that I will not stop.

I soon followed him into the alleyway, where I hid behind a dumpster and watched him do his drug deal. He was grinning and laughing, acting smug and it was honestly fucking disgusting.

"I waited until he was completely alone before confronting him. He didn't expect to see me at all."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Taichi demanded, glaring at me. He wasn't that nice, friendly guy he played himself to be anymore. "What the fuck are you doing in Port Mafia business?"

"I honestly don't give a fuck about the Port Mafia. I do give a fuck about Keiko, and you're going to stay the fuck away from her."

He just stared at me, before he threw his head back and laughed loudly. "Okay... okay, stupid bitch. That was kind of funny. Just go back home before--"

"And before he could finish his sentence, my clone stabbed him right in his back."

I watched Taichi fall to the ground, my clone falling on top of him, shrieking as she stabbed him over and over again in a rage filled flurry. There was blood everywhere, some even spraying on my clothes as I watched.

Then, I stepped closer, pulling out my knife and landing one more final blow right in his chest, killing him.

"And he was as good as dead."

"... was Keiko in on this?"

Keiko opened the door to my apartment, letting me rush inside before closing and locking the door. She turned to look at me, eyes wide as she took in the blood on my clothes.

"Did... did you..." she stuttered softly, and I nodded.

"He's dead."

Keiko burst into tears.

"You know the answer to that already."

I was sitting on the ground now, head hung low as I stared at my hands. "I killed someone," I said softly, eyes burning with tears as I clenched my fists. "But when it comes to the people I love... I will do it again. So," I turned to Dazai. "Turn me into the police." I then turned to Chuuya. "Or just shoot me in the fucking head. I'm not strong enough against either of you... I just ask that you keep Keiko out of this. She has suffered far too much already."

I kept my head down, Chuuya and Dazai standing above me. Chuuya had a displeased look on his face, though Dazai's expression looked a bit forlorn.

"You'd do anything to protect your friends," Dazai stated and I looked up at him, looking broken, and small. Dazai gritted his teeth, frowning deeply.

"This is so fucked up," Chuuya grumbled, his mind moving at a mile a second as he rubbed his temples. Taichi was as good as dead anyways, seeing as him stealing from the Port Mafia was punishable by death. So what the hell is he supposed to do now? Chuuya growled in frustration.

"Did you guys..." I started, voice small as a thought plagued my mind. "...know all along...?" I bit my lip, keeping my gaze on the floor. "And when we-"

"It's not what you think," Dazai spoke up, knowing exactly what I was thinking. "You were just sloppy. But I don't blame you for panicking, bella."

"I knew as soon as you brought up the drug deal," Chuuya spoke up and I scoffed, laughing at my own stupidity. "I just wanted to fuck you 'cause of that dress."

Dazai snorted while I couldn't help the short laugh that escaped my mouth despite the situation. I shook my head, sighing deeply. I just decided to accept their answer, as this wasn't the right time to dwell upon my insecurities. I glanced over to the dead body of Taichi's accomplice, thinking he was probably going to die by the Port Mafia's hand anyway.

Dazai followed my gaze, tilting his head a bit as he tapped his chin. "There is no DNA evidence," Dazai recalled and Chuuya narrowed his eyes at him.

"Yeah, so?" he replied, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

"So," Dazai started, glancing over at me still on the ground. "There is no proof of her involvement. Man, just what will I tell the Boss now?!" Dazai threw his hands up dramatically, Chuuya's eye twitching in annoyance.

Still, the Executive kept his mouth shut, taking in the meaning of Dazai's words. Then, he looked over at me, blue eyes staring me down before his lips twitched upwards a bit.

"Oh yeah... I won the race."

-End

tags in replies!!

#bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya smut #dazai smut #yeehaw!!!

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thelargefrye · 4 years ago

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kill to the beat. trickster!hongjoong x reader.

── drabble :: horror :: thriller ::

── warnings. allusion to kidnapping + hair grabbing/pulling + getting injured + tied to a chair + throwing knives + assumed murder + blood

── word count ݁ ⩇⩇:⩇⩇ ⠀712

── early access. @teeztheflag :: @closer-stars :: @barsformars ::

── developer’s note. this is just something short but i do want to do a longer fic with this concept of trickster!joong. this is just me testing the waters lol. let me know what you think!!

the only sound that you could hear right now were the sounds of your heart thumping impossibly loud in your ears. you felt like the organ was no longer in your chest, but in your throat and if you did anymore running then you possibly throw it up.

you tried your best not to reveal your hiding place, but damn was it hard to breathe. your lungs basically on fire from all the running.

damn, how did this even happen? how did you allow yourself to be tricked so easily by him. maybe that’s why he “jokingly” called himself the “trickster” but now you think about it maybe he wasn’t joking at all.

“awe, my sweet little muse, where did you go? i know you’re not trying to runaway from me,” he says and you could hear his familiar giggle that at first you thought was cute, and kind of sexy, but now terrifies you.

if he finds you, he will surely kill you. there’s no doubt about it, you’ve already pissed him off to no return by running away from him and hiding. if you can just make it to the exit, then you make a run for help.

you if you can only make it to the exit...

his little giggle resonates through the corridor once more, but it sounds closer than ever and you clamp a hand over your mouth. eyes staring widely and your senses on full alert as you can only hope he doesn’t open the locker you’re hiding in.

go away, go away, go away, go away, is all you can repeated think as you listen to his heavy footsteps hit the floor. almost to a sinister type of beat. like he was getting a joy out of searching for you and you could nothing but feel helpless.

“come on~ i’m getting tired of this hide and seek bullshit!” he shouts before hitting his bat against the wall not to far from where you are hiding. tears start to stream down your face as you can slowly feel the light of hope escape you.

it’s only a matter of time before–

“found you~” he laughs as he wrenches the door, his laugh echoing in your ears as he grabs you by your hair and pulls you from your hiding spot.

“no! no! please! hongjoong! don’t do this please! let me go!” you shout and scream and kick as he drags you by your hair before promptly throwing you back into the room you escaped from.

the recording room.

the recording room that hongjoong trapped you in and recorded your screams for his sick pleasure of using them in his songs. your screams, cries for help, and wailing cries; he captured them all with a sick grin on his face.

then you watched as he entered the recording booth where he had you tied to a chair, “if you won’t be a good muse and stay then i’ll treat you like a bad muse and force you to comply,” you remember him telling you as he tied you to the chair.

the binds around your limbs loosen and you turn to look at him in shock; however his face was emotionless.

“go on before i change my mind,” he says and you quickly dash out of the chair and out of the room and towards the nearest exit.

it was right there! the bright red sign reading EXIT was right the–

you suddenly fell to the ground with a cry as you felt pain all throughout your body. doing your best you turned to see hongjoong with that sinister smile on his face as he holds his throwing knives between his fingers. you can’t help but glare at him before turning to try and crawl to the exit.

“awe, did you really think i was going to let you leave?” he says as he walks closer to your slowly bleeding out body. his bat dragging across the floor like it was some type of dead weight and you’re almost there!

your bloody hand reaches for the door, barely just a few fingertips away that you taste freedom and then–

your hand falls limps to the ground and hongjoong’s laugh is the only thing resonating throughout the corridor.

#ateez x reader #ateez blurbs #ateez imagines #ateez blurb #ateez scenarios #ateez hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x reader #ateez horror #ateez thriller #trickster!hongjoong #dream games.#khj.

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tornrose24 · 3 years ago

Note

Another addition to the RE8 Happy AU:

Transportation to the village can be done by the Duke, since he has a cart and all. Or Ethan can trade the duke something valuable or interesting so the Duke can build him a functioning cart.

To address Alcina’s dislike of men, how about when it is her turn to see Rose, Mia is the one who supervises instead of Ethan (although this does not stop him from worrying very much because he nearly lost his wife once in RE7). Ethan maaaaaaay have snuck into the castle a couple of times just to check, and Alcina has to pretend with every ounce of self control she can muster to pretend she does not notice (but she totally knows).

Heisenberg would totally teach Rose how to swear. Also I imagine he once accidentally static shocked Rose with his poofy hair, causing her to cry, and after that Mia is comforting Rose while Ethan starts screaming bloody murder and straight up starts beating Heisenberg with a metal pole (Or Mia beats him up while Ethan holds Rose). Alcina never let Heisenberg live that one down.

Donna definitely puts on puppet shows to entertain Rose. And has a new doll for Rose every visit, and soon Rose has amassed a collection of varying dolls. Angie likes to play patty cake with Rose, which always makes Rose laugh. Also tea parties are a must.

Moreau was allowed to carry Rose using a crate since they weren’t sure if he could carry Rose without accidentally dropping her in his reservoir. Sometimes she would fall asleep in the crate and Moreau would use a cloth sack as a blanket so she doesn’t get cold.

@xx---locketdragon---xx

Honestly I’m not sure how transportation normally works between the outside world and the village. I’d see The Duke involved, but I think he’d have his own things going on/stuff to do too. If the lords left the village they’d need their own customized modes of transportation (though I can’t imagine Moreau being able to leave if his transformations happen without warning, and I don’t know if he’d be down with just leaving the village for too long).

Yeah, I think Mia would be more welcomed in Castle Dimetrescu (hopefully she was treated alright while in captivity, because whatever DLC you guys get probably won’t be forgiving for her). She won’t worry about being added to Lady D’s wine, but there’s still a slight uneasiness on her end. And it’d get awkward if Alcina finds out about Mia’s involvement with the ‘sort of but not quite fifth sibling’ a few years back.

I could see Ethan doing that, but I think Alcina would eventually snap and kick him out since she’s not always patient. But at least its Rose’s father and not yet another disgusting man-thing with lustful intentions, because THOSE guys aren’t as lucky as Ethan.

Rose learned a few curse words from Heisenberg, and unfortunately for the Winters, the first one she spoke was the dreaded ‘F***’ word. And since neither of them curse around their daughter, it doesn’t take them long to figure out who imparted that knowledge to her.

I’m not sure the full effects of Heisenberg’s power, but him static shocking Rose at some point on accident would make sense. I think it’d be funnier if Mia beat Ethan to the punch and was the one to beat Heisenberg’s ass. Oh, but it’d get better–one of Alcina’s servants was nearby at the time and actually recorded the beat down with her phone to show her Lady in addition to recounting what happened. And after Alcina has a good laugh, she’d look at the servant and says “I will give you a significant raise in your salary if you can find a way to give me a replica of this recording so I can watch it whenever I wish.”

I don’t know if Donna would give Rose too many dolls, since she’d be too small to properly care for them for awhile (and I’m sure those dolls would be expensive for a reason). Plus Ethan might put his foot down at first given what happened last time he ran into any of Donna’s dolls. The idea of Angie herself playing with Rose is adorable, though since Angie is Donna’s special doll, Donna would be cautious with how Rose interacts with Angie. Yes, tea parties are a must. ^_^ The ultimate tea party with the dolls. (I admit a part of me has imagined the monster baby in that scenario too, but I’m not sure if it’d actually work or not if is an actual hallucination).

Moreau would absolutely need something specially designed to keep Rose secure around the water, and it’d need to float if it ended up in the water (actually, maybe she’d need a little life vest and floaties to be safe). Assuming he started hiring workers to help with the reservoir, he’d have some help on hand. (Also, the sack as a blanket is oddly cute).

Also, I just remembered he has a TV and ‘supposedly’ a PS4 if the puppet show holds some canon. And there’s a lot of potential with those in mind, like he’d try to get her to play ‘Marvel vs. Capcom’ or whatever would exist in the Resident Evil universe, but she’s way too little and tries chewing on the controller instead.

#resident evil #resident evil village #what if #four lords and a baby au #rosemary winters #Ethan winters #mia winters #re village spoilers #alcina dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #there's a lot of fun things to imagine #I'd be open to someone turning that 'recording the beatdown for Alcina' into a Alcina/ female!reader fic if asked nicely

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systlinsideblog · 3 years ago

Text

Part 2

The Lady walked, unseen and unheard, through the grass.

She looked out from the eyes of animals, felt through the grass, through the soil. She was, after all, a goddess of soil and fertility and life, and all life was her domain.

She followed her child, as Systlin walked.

It was cruel, sometimes, the uses to which she must put her chosen champion. The Lady regretted it, on occasion. But it was necessary, and her champion had the fortitude and skill to accept such hard tasks, to stand her ground though the whole world be against her. Her champion had the power to change worlds.

There was much on this world that needed changing. The cries of pain had reached the Lady, though she was not the native goddess of these people.

But the gods here were silent. The Lady was, among other things, a goddess of mercy, and she’d not been able to bear it.

Justice was what was needed, but there was none of it to be found in this place. Justice was not one of the Lady’s domains. But there was one for whom it was, even if that one still railed against what she’d become when she’d taken the soul of a slain mad god into herself.

She watched, as her champion killed, and though it was not her domain she could taste the justice of it. She’d brought justice and protection to a world with none, and granted mercy to the millions who cried for it. It was honey in her mouth.

A breaker, to break a whole world. The Lady thought, and smiled.

The leader of these...people...would not been pleased with her. She knew this, because she would not be pleased with anyone who came before her in her court and challenged her as she planned to challenge him. She would probably have had them seized, had they tried such a thing, and likely killed.

But then, Systlin was fully ready to burn this entire camp down, and quite honestly the only reason she hadn't yet was because there were helpless innocents in among the monsters who called themselves men.

Every step she took led her past women collared like dogs. Some wore nothing but bells, and Systlin was no fool; she guessed the purpose of such things. Some were chained to wagons. The ones allowed clothing wore little of it. To a one, the women gave way to men. On some of them, Systlin could see whip wheals and healed scars from beatings.

Her power curled within her, and oh but the lure of it was a powerful thing, as her blood ran hot and the red rage misted her vision.

But that was a dangerous path, and for now she kept her power under tight rein.

The women she passed looked at her with something like wonder; they had never seen, she supposed, a woman armed like she.

One woman, a chained girl wearing little but scraps of leather, had in fascination reached out to touch the hilt of Ice. Systlin paused to let her, and smiled.

"Warrior caste?" The girl's voice was wondering. "But..."

"Women," Systlin said, her voice gentle. "Make excellent fighters. It was a woman who trained me."

The girl smiled, and then all at once a man angrily grabbed for the back of the collar around the girl's neck, and moved to cuff her. The girl yelped and cowered, apologizing, begging forgiveness, and it was enough.

Ice was in her hand without conscious thought as she moved, and then she was standing over the cowering woman, legs planted, the point of her sword at the man's throat. The Power-bound blade, sharp as a razor, drew a drop of blood where it dug into skin.

"If you touch her." Systlin's voice was a snarl. "I will kill you."

She let, at last, the tiniest curl of her curse rise. It came cold and eager, and she reached out, feeling, feeling the million tiny flaws in everything around her, in her bones, in the bones of those around her, in the girl's collar...

"How dare you!" The man was furious. "She is mine! I will do with her as I like, I am her master!"

Systlin pushed, a thin little thread of Power, delicate as a needle.

The girl's collar cracked with a sound of over-stressed metal, and fell from her neck in two halves.

"She," Systlin hissed, "Is a woman, and a person, and not to be owned. What the bloody fuck is wrong with you people?"

"She is a woman!" The man hissed right back at her, heedless of the sword at his throat. "Her place is as a sla..."

It was the last thing he said. Systlin ran Ice through his throat, out the back of his neck. The sudden gurgle as his windpipe was severed was as sweet as music.

There was a roar of outrage, and she felt rather than saw the lance shoved for her back. She bent away, and it went past. She whipped her sword around, getting her back to the wagon, and looked down the length of ice-blue steel at the snarling faces of hundreds of furious warriors.

“Eighteen.” She said, coldly. “Whoever wants to be nineteen, step forward first.”

“Give me one reason, woman.” Kamchak was deadly serious. “Why I should not order you slain where you stand.”

“Because you said that you would take me to this Kutaituchik.” Systlin shrugged one shoulder. “And go on and do it. I would be delighted to kill some more of you.”

“You’re mad.”

“I fear that I am the only sane one present.”

“I should kill you.”

Systlin’s patience snapped. She called again on her curse, and with a terrible cracking of wood fifty lances snapped in a moment, dissolving into splinters in their owner’s hands. There was a cry of astonishment and…ah, yes, there it was…fear.

Several warriors…didn’t quite step back, but leaned back a bit, and looked uneasy.

“Try.” She said, very softly. “Please try. I’ll make a soup bowl of your skull.”

Kamchak regarded her for a long moment. “So you are a sorceress.”

“The next thing I break will be you, and the twenty men closest to you, unless you take me to this man as you promised.”

There was a long, tense moment, and finally Kamchak turned and jerked his chin at her to follow. Systlin did, warily. She did not tamp her power down and lock it away; she kept it to hand, a constant itch under her skin, a temptation to crack the femur of the man ahead of her just to hear him scream.

She did not. She’d long ago mastered her power, as perhaps no other Breaker had. She ruled it, not the other way around. She felt the temptation, but discarded it, and kept the terrible boon of her power close at hand.

She would need it. She knew it in her bones already. The sun was dipping towards evening. She’d been a warrior for decades. She was a warrior, a conqueror, a queen who’d fought two wars against people and one against a god. She’d won all three.

She knew, in her bones, that tonight she’d be spilling blood. A lot of it.

The girl rushed to stay near her, trembling. Systlin let her; the poor thing was terrified, traumatized, and clinging to perhaps the one thing that had ever offered her a helping hand. She had never been particularly good at comfort, but she tried; she patted the woman on the shoulder, somewhat awkwardly. The girl flinched, but then looked at her with wide frightened eyes.

“It’s all right.” Systlin tried to keep her voice gentle, for all murder was singing under her skin and gleefully anticipating a slaughter. “It’s all right. To touch you again, they’d have to go over my dead body.”

This seemed small comfort to the woman. “They’ll like that.” She said, in a very small voice.

“They won’t. I can and will kill every man in this camp if I must.”

A wide-eyed look. “No one can do that. No one but a god.”

“And I killed a god once.” Systlin shrugged. “Men die easier.”

The look she got was skeptical, but the girl clearly remembered the shattered lances. The trembling faded perhaps a little.

She was led to an open area before a wagon of exceptional size and make. Jewels and gold glinted and glittered everywhere. Systlin waited as men ducked into the wagon and hurried conversation were had. She waited as rugs and cushions were brought out, and finally with ceremony an old gray robe was spread over them. She waited as an older man was escorted with great deference from the wagon. He assumed the seat, still chewing a string of some substance. Systlin noted the somewhat sleepy detatchment in his eyes.

The lines of his face were familiar. She looked from him to Kamchak, and back. Kamchak was just turning, and took up a position very close to the older man.

Ahhh. She remembered the deference shown Kamchak by the other warriors, and noted how they looked to him even now. Ahhh. I see.

The old man… Kutaituchik …looked her up and down. She looked back, with all the self-assurance she had, which was enough to break an army against.

“I am told,” The old man said at last. “That you killed eighteen of my warriors.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because they offered me insult and implied that they would put me in chains and enslave me.”

“You are a woman, are you not?” The old man said mildly.

The rage boiled again, and Systlin forced it from red hot into ice. “Slavery is abomination.” She said sharply. “It is among the greatest crimes, to hold another person in bondage. Those who would break another person to their will are monsters, and killing them cleanly is too good for them. Enslaving another for the purpose of sex is beyond abomination, for rape is another of the greatest of crimes. To even suggest such a thing is vile, and I sincerely wonder what in the name of all the gods and spirits is wrong with the men of this camp.”

A short laugh. “Ahhh. Another sent by the Priest-Kings then, new to Gor?”

Gor. The name of this world, then? And Priest-Kings; gods of some sort? “I am not from this place, no, and thank the Lady’s mercy for that.”

“You’ll find,” said Kutaituchik, “That the ways of Gor are different. You may as well get used to them, woman; you’ll find that the Tuchuk are quite fair masters, all in all. As you are new, I shall not have you killed. The male kin of those you have slain will draw lots, and the winner may put his collar on you and claim your sword as recompense. If he is charitable, he will loan you to the other men seeking recompense.”

There was a general murmur of approval from the surrounding men. Systlin felt the itch under her skin grow more insistent. The girl clinging to her side sobbed. “I told you,” she said. “I told you!”

“I have a counter offer.” Systlin said. She was drawing up power now, and readying it, because she knew with absolute certainty that she was nearing the point where it would turn to blood. She looked Kutaituchik dead in the eyes. “You acknowledge me as your new chieftain and acknowledge my word as the new law. You remove the collars from every slave in this camp. You renounce your crimes, and abase yourself for forgiveness before those you have wronged. You pay recompense and escort every newly freed woman wherever she wishes to be taken, and leave her there with funds and supplies enough to piece a life back together.”

She smiled horribly, a smile that held no mirth. “Since you are new to this new law, I will not kill you for your crimes.”

There was utter silence. And then a great roar of laughter all about.

“Kamchak.” Kutaituchik said. “Kill her.”

Kamchak nodded, and the men who’d been creeping up behind her moved. Systlin had been tracking them for some time; she’d felt the disturbances in the air and the patches of too-silent space behind her. They intended, she guessed, to strike her without warning. It was wise. It was what she would have done to kill a sorceress, were she without power.

Systlin reached into that yawning pit of coldly eager power within her, and she broke the men trying to kill her. Bones shattered into splinters. It was utterly soundless, save for the sudden screams of agony as men collapsed into piles of bloody meat.

It was easy. It was terribly easy. Her blood sang with the last agonized gurgling screams.

“Good effort.” She said, and she could not keep the smile from her face. “You should have taken my offer. Now I extend you my second; you submit to me, here and now, and I make your death painless.”

“Kill her!” The words were roared in utter furious rage. “Tuchuks! KILL HER!” A thousand voices roared, and a forest of lances rose.

Systlin drew her sword, and her dagger, and smiled, and in that smile was ruin. And as the first warriors rushed forward, she began to kill.

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ill-skillsgard · 4 years ago

Text

Faust x Faith - No Looking Back

Warning: 18+ smut, public sex, violence, blood, arson, implied death, mentions of non-consensual touching (nothing explicit and no r-words used,) mentions of stalking, unconsciousness, anti-religious themes, strong language.

Note: Hey, hey. I’ve wanted to write this for a while, but haven’t had much time. This isn’t based on any requests—just something I feel needs to happen to move the universe along. After this, I’ll be basing future FxF stuff off drabble requests instead of going story-heavy for a bit. Likes, comments and reblogs are suuuper ‘ppreciated!

Summary: - Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration - 3.6K words -

Faust makes good on his word to protect Faith, taking drastic measures to assure her assailant never bothers her again.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

Thin raindrops pattered the man's leather jacket as he walked through the streets with his hood drawn up and his eyes low. For two days, the drizzle persisted and melted the black snowbanks into slush. Though the dismal atmosphere kept most inside, Sven had good reason to travel across town on foot. The promise of a girl's company waited at the end of his route, and he put off his regular nightly routine of masturbating to fetish porn for—what he hoped was—the real thing.

He glanced at his cracked phone screen every few minutes to check in with her, making sure she hadn't changed her mind, that she was serious. From the earnestness of her messages and the speed at which she replied to his questions, he determined she meant what she said about wanting to meet. Finally, his luck was turning. He’d show that miserable bastard Faust who was the better man.

- What abt ur bf? Lol

- What about him? Not here, is he?

- Thought u were a good girl.

- Haha, not really. Are you close?

- Ya. Y r we meeting at this random place?

- I need you to promise you won't tell a soul. If you can prove that to me, maybe we can keep meeting up.

- Lol ok. I PROMISE I won't say a word😉

- Thank you. Hurry, please. It's cold out!

- Be there in 5. I'll let u wear my jacket altho idk might not need it😉

- Hehe omgosh. You're making me blush.

- I'll make u do way more then blush baby. Just wait.

Sven lengthened his strides and turned the corner onto a hill leading toward the industrial area of town. Down the slope, he walked past several warehouses and legions of trucks parked inside barbed-wire fencing. It was a peculiar site to meet up, but his rendezvous insisted on a place nobody would think to look.

Betting his night would take an erotic turn, Sven popped a piece of gum in his mouth and chewed away the cigarette taste. He was seconds away from the spot she chose to meet, and his chest constricted with excitement. His boots crunched over gravel and garbage as he walked down a narrow alley between two faceless buildings. There was an open lot at the end of the lane, where he assumed she was waiting. As he made his way through the dimly lit alley, he whistled to make his presence known. The shrill tune reverberated off an overflowing dumpster to his left, and as he stepped to clear the reeking trash receptacle, something hard and blunt swung out at eye-level and flattened him to the ground.

Dazed and blinded from the sudden strike, he tried moving his mouth, but only a bubble of blood popped from his lips. A piercing stream of sound filled his ears as the edges of his vision turned dark. A large black figure came into view above, haloed by the soggy grey sky in the deepening veil. The featureless shadow chuckled deeply before a heavy boot's tread put out his lights.

~*~

Several hours passed before Sven's eyelids shuddered. By then, his assailant had had plenty of time to tie him to a wooden chair and organize his instruments of punishment. A headache blistered through the man's skull, throbbing in his eye sockets until he gained enough consciousness to open them. When he saw the person who had knocked him out, his throat closed and the gasp ripping through came out high-pitched.

"Faust... Please... Don't—" Sven hiccoughed. "Don't do this. I'm sorry. I'm SORRY!"

Faust, who had been facing the doorway at the end of a long red runner, turned toward Sven, holding a hammer's handle in one hand while cradling the head in the other. A malicious smirk peeked out from a curtain of black hair. He took a step forward, the clomp of his leather boots echoing through the church. Each step made a menacing sound that bit down on Sven's nerves and rattled his sensitive skull.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I know you hate me, but please, don't hurt me. I swear I'll never talk to her again!"

Faust approached, flashing the obsidian hammerhead. He tossed the tool in his grip and stuck his hand into his pocket, producing several five-inch nails.

"No! God, no, please! Faust! Don't do this!"

The black-haired giant stopped to admire the curve of the hammer’s prongs. Sven looked around the empty church and saw a jerrycan taking up space in a nearby pew. He immediately started struggling against the jute rope binding his wrists and ankles to the chair as Faust drew nearer, smile uncoiling.

"I already gave you the chance to never talk to her again. Remember?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Sorry means fuck all to me. You should know that. The only reason you left the campsite with your dick intact is because of the witnesses," Faust said, then spun around with his arms out, showcasing their solitude. "Now, it's just you and me."

"Please don't," Sven muttered through swollen lips. "Fuck, I'll do anything!"

"There's nothing you can do. Nothing a sorry sack of human waste can provide this world to make me change my mind."

"SHE LIED!"

Faust jingled the nails in his jacket, reminding Sven who held the weapon.

"Whatever she told you... It's not true! I was at the party, but I didn't do anything to her!" Sven's voice cracked.

"Oh... So you didn't follow her into my bedroom?"

"No! I talked to her for a minute, and that's all. That's all, I swear, Faust. Don't kill me."

The stomp of boots neared the altar where Sven struggled in the chair. He twisted to loosen the rope and slipped one hand out. Faust grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the arm of the chair, readying a nail between his lips as he gripped the hammer. Sven let out a scream, stifled instantly by the hammerhead. Faust wedged the metal between his teeth and hissed.

"Shut the fuck up, or I'll use this to smash your teeth out like a goddamn window. Understand me?"

Sven nodded and quaked as Faust placed the tip of the nail against the soft, flat part of his forearm.

"Stay still. If I fuck up and hit the Radial or Ulnar artery... You could bleed out before I'm done. Gotta get it right between the bones." Faust slapped the pale skin to reveal blue veins. He pressed the nail’s tip in place and rose the hammer above his head, bringing it down and stopping short of the head as Sven shrieked.

Faust cackled. "Jesus Christ, dude. Did you really think I was gonna nail you to a chair?"

Sven groaned, relieved and moist with cold sweat. "Faust, I'm serious. Please, man. You gotta believe me."

His dark laughter continued, bouncing off the high ceilings, the wooden pews and polished floors. As Sven let out his own nervous chuckle, Faust brought the hammer down in one swift pull, then slapped his hand over Sven's gaping mouth to stifle the screams. Howling, Sven rattled his head back and forth as a searing bolt of pain tore through his right arm, crackling in his shoulder where it burned and burned.

Faust tore his phone out of his back pocket and brought up a video, slamming the screen into Sven's face. The video of him grabbing Faith in his room while he was states away watching the live feed from the camera he'd set up on the desk.

"I knew these little cameras would come in handy. See? I know what you did, you stupid fuck. And you know what else? I would have just beat the shit out of you had I not stopped by your place before our little meeting."

Sven whined, tears pouring from his eyes in steady streams.

"Oh, yeah. That's right. I went into your room... Saw some interesting things on your computer. At first, I thought it was just standard fucking creep shit. Snuff porn, torture... Teen girls. None of that surprised me... Until I dug around and found your little stalker file buried in your folders. You didn't even encrypt it. How fucking stupid are you?"

"I'm sorry," Sven shook.

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

"I'm sorry for touching her. I should have left her alone."

"What'd you think was gonna happen? That she wouldn't tell me? Or that I wouldn't believe her? And now I know you've been following Faith around, taking pictures of her, you fucking predator. And what about those other women, huh? You sorry about them, too?"

"Yes! I'm sorry. I know I have problems! I'm trying to get help. Please, Faust. If you let me go, I promise I'll do it. I'll get better. I haven’t hurt anyone!"

Faust shook his head slowly, grunting in refusal. "No. I meant what I said when I told you I'd crucify you if you went near Faith again. I'm doing the world a favour."

Sven hung his head and bled from the grievous wound pinning him to the chair, shuddering weakly from his injuries. Faust would never relent. He'd witnessed the drummer's cold disdain, the malignant hatred living inside that made him turn to the dark with open arms. Faust wasn't an actor. He pledged himself to the darkness with unyielding conviction, never one to take such things lightly. This realization depleted Sven's will to reason with the man.

Faust gripped another thick nail and drove it through Sven's left arm, smiling as blood dripped from the wood onto the church altar. The violent yelps filled Faust with morbid delight as he pressed the bloodied hammer under his victim's chin and raised his face.

"You're gonna die tonight, Sven."

"What makes you better than me? You'll be a murderer," Sven stuttered. "You hurt people, too."

"You and I are not the same. Don't ever compare yourself to me. You're a coward, and I warned you. Tread on what's mine, and I'll destroy you. That's what I said."

"All this over a girl? Are you fucking crazy!?"

Faust stooped to one knee, looking up at Sven as though the insult had cut him. Faust's brows arched, bottom lip jutting outward as he studied Sven, who closed his eyes. Then, Faust rose to his feet, leather stretching from the motion. Faust tapped his chin, smiled, and leaned over to whisper, "yes... Totally fucking crazy."

With a powerful kick to the chest, Faust sent the chair and Sven toppling backward. He then unzipped his pants, pulled out his manhood and giggled as he emptied his bladder on the weeping man. While Sven cried and moaned, Faust closed his zipper, whistling merrily. He left Sven on his back and snatched the jerrycan from the pew, taking slow, calculated steps while twisting off the cap and dousing the altar in gasoline.

As the gas trickled, Sven's desperation mounted. He could not flail, so he screamed. Faust gently reminded him what he'd do to Sven's teeth if he carried on shouting. The pinned man blubbered and begged, but Faust ignored his pleas. Inside his head, all Faust heard was the sound of flames rushing into a circle around Sven, crackling over the carpet and up the old church's wooden beams. By the time the roof caught fire, Faust had planned on being long gone.

"Please, Faust... You'll regret this! I know you're a serious person, but this is too far. You won't be able to live with yourself!"

"Wrong. I couldn't live with myself knowing I let a vulture like you walk this planet freely." Faust poured a trail down the floor runner, far away from the altar. He tossed the can aside and looked up at the Catholic saints' stained-glass portrayals and Jesus at the center of it all, staring down with sad eyes. Faust took a book of matches from his pocket and ripped one from the bunch, running its tip across the ignitor strip until a small flame burst to life. Faust flicked the match to the ground without a second thought, and the flame ate up the gasoline trail swiftly. The church was illuminated, and the colourful glass windows came to life. Faust raised his eyes to the forlorn Jesus and leered while the fire spread.

He did not stay to admire his work or revel in the cries of a man burning alive. Faust fled before the fire consumed the church, not once looking back or wondering if his victim had somehow escaped. He trudged through puddles of slush, hair swinging in the wind, white shadows of breath leaving his mouth.

It was time to get back to finish the tour. But he had one more stop to make.

~*~

Faith left the mall after helping close the book store. She received small smiles and nods from the mall staff as they locked doors and unfolded security gates. Some of the people she had spoken to before, and some she had only seen in passing. Though she returned their pleasantries, inside Faith was fretting. She tried not to worry about her boyfriend or ask where he was under strict orders to go about her day as usual.

She stepped into the evening air as the sun sank, taking the blue from the sky along for the descent. Wisps of white cloud stretched across the pink and violet above. Faith took in a deep breath and walked to the bus stop situated between a movie theatre and a dollar store. She popped her earbuds in and turned on a song that reminded her of Faust; one he wouldn’t like. His music taste had no room for the upbeat indie rock she enjoyed. Still, she smiled when the lyrics reminded her of him.

The scent of cigarette smoke caught her attention, and she looked around, finding no culprit. She wondered where the smell came from if nobody was around but soon forgot when the city bus appeared in the distance. It had to make a long trek around the parking lot before it pulled up at the movie theatre. Faith readied her bus card to scan as another cloud of smoke enveloped her senses.

Faith whirled around, and there he was, all black and leather, white teeth clutching the filter of a cigarette. Faust smiled, his words bolting from his mouth as she clamped her arms around him and crushed her face into his chest. The leather and musk brought tears to her eyes. She ripped out her earbuds and tried not to weep.

He hushed her, lifted her off the ground and retreated into the shadowed alley between the theatre and the store. By the time the bus pulled up, Faust had pressed her against the brick wall behind the building.

"Faust. Oh my gosh, where have you been? I was so worried," Faith gasped.

"Sh, don't ask questions, baby." Faust smothered her mouth, holding her thighs around his waist.

"Mm—I love you. Oh my God. I can’t believe you’re here! I love you so freaking much."

"I know you do," Faust breathed against her lips. "I love you, too, babe."

"Tell me where you've been!"

Faust shook his head and kissed her neck instead. She raked her fingers through his hair, knocking his hood down so she could see him unobstructed.

"Told you... Don't ask... Mmkay?... Stop asking... Just let me... Mm—fuck!"

Faith pulled his pelvis inward with her thighs, rubbing against his crotch and the heavy bullet belt wrapped around his hips. In their cloud of lust, Faust pushed his black jeans down just enough to free his erection.

"Fuck, I love your little skirts. Makes it so easy," Faust murmured.

The thought of Faust showing up disquieted her, but his lips on her skin and his desire thwarted these anxieties for a while. She set aside her questions, happy to have him in her arms again and overcome by arousal. When he stretched her panties aside and pushed into her, they both froze in expressions of excruciating ecstasy. Faust tilted his head back and closed his eyes, and Faith clutched his shoulders, already writhing from the intense fulfillment between her legs.

Just as she thought Faust might drop her, he bent his knees and hoisted her higher up on the wall. In his arms, she weighed close to nothing. She missed feeling tiny against him.

"Miss my cock?" He growled in her ear.

"Yes, baby. Oh my gosh, of course, I missed it. I missed my big man."

"Yeah? Fuck, I miss my little pussy," Faust breathed. "Mm, show me those gorgeous tits."

Faith unbuttoned her work polo and stretched the collar down around her breasts for Faust to bury his face. Though there wasn't an abundance of flesh to lose himself in, Faust shivered from the first taste of her nipples. With muted groans of pleasure, he rammed into her until Faith could no longer contain her cries, unaccustomed to his girth. Faust absorbed her whimpers with his mouth, coaxing her tongue until she only hummed.

He felt ferocious from the last twenty-four hours. If he could make Faith scream without drawing attention, Faust would have slammed her into the wall and fucked her until she shredded her vocal cords. He had to keep a low profile. Even visiting Faith was a considerable risk, but one he relished taking as she clamped her thighs and rutted against him.

He supported her ass in both hands and shifted off the wall to fuck her standing up. While he took her this way, she wrapped her arms around his neck and whimpered, whispering, "yes, fuck my pussy hard, big boy. Oh, I love that big cock inside me."

Faust unhooked and held her out so he could watch her breasts jiggle with every bounce. "You still taking your birth control? I'm gonna fucking bust so hard inside you, baby."

"Yeah. Yeah, baby, do it. Fill my pussy, please. I want your cum."

Her dirty talk and sweet sobs for his cock pushed him over the edge. He cradled her head as he pushed her against the wall and throbbed between her legs until empty. Faust pulled out and immediately turned her around and bent her over to watch globs of fresh cum dripping from her wet slit. He used one finger to push some of it back inside and had her suck off the rest. Afterward, he pulled up his pants and compressed her against the wall, one hand over her mouth while the other worked her clit in gentle circles. Faust didn't stop until she squealed and shuddered against him, muffled in his jacket and writhing from the manual orgasm.

When Faith calmed down, he released her and stepped away, pulling a cigarette from the squished pack in his jacket pocket. The lighter's flame created an orange halo around his face and promptly died. He smoked like nothing had happened while she fixed her skirt, buttoned her polo and zipped up her coat.

Faith smiled up at her lover, the night blotting out most of his features.

"I'm so glad you're home," she said.

"Not for long," Faust exhaled.

Her heart quivered. "Wait, what?"

"I gotta go back."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"What? No! But... You just got back," said Faith.

Faust shrugged, his leather jacket speaking for him. The evening matured, consuming the details of her hurt expression until the streetlamps along the road came to life.

"Why did you come here?"

Faust took one last long haul off his cigarette and flicked it down the alleyway. "Listen to me, Faith... You need to quit asking questions. I'm serious. The more questions you ask, the worse it'll be. And you and I did not see each other tonight. As far as you know, I'm on tour. Understand?"

"Yes," Faith said to appease him.

"I want to stay, trust me. But I can't. You know why. All the answers you want, you already have. Don't keep bugging, don't mention it ever again."

"I want to go with you," she whispered.

"No. You stay. Go to your classes, go to work, go visit your parents. Everything normal. And I don't want you moping around either. You put on that pretty smile, and you pretend for me. I'll call you in a couple of weeks before the last show and arrange a way for you to get there."

"What do you mean you’ll call in couple of weeks?" Faith whined. “What about goodnights?”

"I don't have a phone anymore."

"Why—? Oh, um... Okay. I understand."

Faust gathered the girl up in his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Good girl. I love you, and I miss you."

"I love you, too."

He tipped her face up and sensed tears forming in her eyes. Faust shook his head. "No crying. We'll see each other very soon. Just a couple more weeks."

"I know," she sighed.

"I love you more than anything, Faith. Now, go catch your bus. Should be here in a few minutes."

"But what about you?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm on tour. I'm not even here," he explained.

Faust kissed her again, smoothed his hands over her shoulders and turned her to face the bus stop. He urged her along. "No looking back. Hop on the bus and go do your schoolwork."

"Okay," she said, determined to make him proud. Faith walked out of the shadows and into the lamplight hovering over the depot. Across the lot, the city bus pulled in, and though she longed to turn around to see Faust watching over her, she kept her eyes forward and waited. When the bus pulled up, and the doors drew back, she stepped onto the platform and smiled at the driver as she scanned her pass. Faith took a seat in the back and put in her earbuds. She searched through a list of bands and selected the only one whose logo was illegible. As she pressed play, she listened to the immediate assault of the drums, their constant and violent beat. Faith smiled—warm in her chest and between her legs.

#faust x faith #valter skarsgård smut #valter skarsgård fanfiction #valter skarsgard fanfiction #Valter Skarsgard imagine

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the-fandomwriter · 4 years ago

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I want tommy to pull a Percy Jackson so bad (context: Percy Jackson crashed his own funeral once in the books)

YES PLEASE WE NEED THIS RIGHT NOW.

and he would go all out too. like sneaking in and waiting until tubbo gets up for the eulogy and just scaring the absolute shit out of tubbo who’s literally blubbering over his “dead” friend, meanwhile ghostbur and techno are just chuckling from behind a tree as everyone starts losing their shit and tommy’s just stabbing things and attacking dream (assuming tommy has finally realized that dream is a massive dickhead and he’s fully grasped that dream manipulated him and all that) who was trying to act all sad about it n stuff.

ranboo is just dumbfounded because, jesus fucking christ kid, you could’ve just sent a letter or /msg’ed everyone instead of literally stabbing people and causing multiple people to piss their pants.

phil watches with an amused smile in the back row of seats (tubbo allowed him to attend since he’s not that big an asshole and tommy’s literally phil’s son). he originally didn’t want tommy to go through with this plan since it was incredibly risky considering dream would be there, but once he overheard tommy and techno conversing a few days prior to the funeral about tommy sneaking knives in to attack dream, phil was suddenly on board. sure, phil wanted to murder dream himself, but he figures it was time for tommy to take matters into his own hands and beat the absolute shit outta that fucker.

vikkstar and lazar watch in horror wondering what the fuck they got themselves into, fundy is facepalming as he watches ghostbur cheer tommy on as he starts yelling some bullshit about “never dying” and “being immortal”.

karl is losing his mind, he’s in fits of gut-tearing laughter on the floor, he had a feeling tommy wasn’t dead, he knew deep down that tommy really was a “big man” who wouldn’t let isolation stop him from getting his discs back.

quackity and niki just stand there exchanging shocked glances as the funeral gets more and more outta whack, the grass in the field is now burning, there’s arrows flying, food being thrown, shriek's of terror, and the two just stand in the center of it all unsure what the fuck they’re supposed to do next.

then everything falls silent as tubbo starts down what used to be the center aisle where the empty casket was to be carried down. his cheeks are stained with tears, eyes red as a poppy. he’s skinnier than tommy remembered him, his coat hung too loosely off his shoulders, and his cheekbones were slightly more prominent than before. he looked ghastly, with pallor skin and purple bags under his eyes.

he stops in front of the beaming tommy, who looks healthy again, with clean hair and healing scratches on his face, and his eyes are blue again. a bright, lively blue and contrasted tubbo’s deep, colorless ones that had lost all hope in the week’s past.

tommy looks up at tubbo with a faltering grin as he takes in the destroyed sight of his best friend. of his old best friend. he couldn’t call him that anymore, could he?

tommy was ready to be hugged, slapped, screamed at, pushed away, beaten to a pulp, anything.

then tubbo seized, knocking tommy to the ground, throwing tiny balled up fists into tommy’s chest like a million stones being thrown against the surface of a lake, each one feeling more and more deserved as tommy protects his face from any mis-targeted blows.

ghostbur watches hastily, but doesn’t intervene. techno and phil begin pushing through the crowd as everyone begins to watch curiously as the tiny, broken boy continuously pounds his fists against tommy’s chest, repeatedly screaming curses and swears and venom.

“you bloody arse! how could you?”

“you were supposed to be my best friend!”

“i fucking hate you!”

“i thought you left me!”

“i thought you did it tommy, i thought you were gone for good!”

he curses until his throat grows strained, and punches until his knuckles are raw and sore. he fights until he can no longer, and phil is carefully pulling him off of tommy, and tubbo clings helplessly to phil, blubbering uncontrollably.

techno is at tommy’s side, helping him to his feet, and ghostbur looms sadly in the front of the crowd, an arm around niki’s shoulders.

“i’m sorry, tubbo.” is all tommy manages to utter before tubbo lurches forward again. tommy flinches, preparing to be bombarded by another stoning, only to find two arms wrapped tightly around his abdomen, holding onto him for dear life, as if tommy were keeping the deflated boy afloat.

“thank god you’re all right,” tubbo replies, words muffled by tommy’s askew shirt. “so help me, tommy, i’m going to murder you for doing that to me.”

and tommy laughs, and tubbo laughs, and the air eases, and all tense shoulders and concerned glances ease. everything is all right. or, as all right as it could get.

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justanotherpersonsuniverse · 3 years ago

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Game Master Akuma AU by crisisdparity

Xavier Duchamp was rather proud of himself. What he had before him was an absolute masterpiece of a campaign if he did say so himself. The product of over six months of study, research, and rebalancing efforts followed by two weeks of discussion with his five players to hash out schedules, meeting times, characters, backstories, potential character arcs, and getting them set up with a messaging app that was really good for sending discrete messages between the GM and the players. Valentine and her boyfriend Justin were onboard in an instant. Within days, he’d greenlighted their Half-Elf Bard of the College of Glamour whose spell list was 100% Illusion spells and Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) who was focusing entirely on Abjuration as Rena Rouge and Carapace respectively. Olivia had spent a few days coming up with a Halfling Rogue and debating subclasses with him until settling on Scout. Along with some discussion over how her special magic item’s stunning and paralysis effect would work with Sneak Attack, the campaign had its Vesperia. Jeanette had gone back and forth with him for a week looking at various homebrew subclasses for her Gnome Artificer before they both agreed on one particular Master Tinkerer entry that would be balanced and do the character justice. And with that they had their Ladybug. Even Matt was on board with a stealthy human Chat the Barbarian using the Path of the Beast. The class choice was something Matt had insisted on (and that Xavier would have suggested anyway just for the high hit point totals given Matt’s history with characters dying) and he’d even come up with a backstory that Xavier felt was quite compelling compared to Matt’s usual efforts. Morally ambiguous, likely to be tempted by promises of power, but with a great deal of story potential to work with. Which was a relief. Getting a new player into their group to replace Matt was not something Xavier really felt comfortable with. There were too many unknowns with introducing a new person, far too many for him to risk his masterpiece on an unknown factor. He knew Matt. He could work with Matt. Despite the history. He’d put everything he had into this. Every known Akuma ever fought by the heroes had been made into a boss-tier foe. He’d carefully documented each and every power the heroes had shown to craft special legendary magic items based on the Miraculous. Hawkmoth and Mayura themselves were going to be the final bosses of his campaign. In response to criticism about the difficulty of his campaigns (he tried to make them fair, but still challenging enough to be memorable), he’d made several guest NPCs based on every other hero that had ever been called upon, statted out like player characters that might show up in a pinch to help. He even had a genuine Deus ex Machina that he was ready to use to get the players out of a truly impossible jam if they found themselves in one. Not always, but a few times at least. Enough to get them to the point where they wouldn’t need it anymore. —– It was thirty minutes in, right in the middle of exposition from the Guardian NPC, when Xavier got his first message on the app. Matt/Chat - Chat’s going to wait until everyone breaks up and follow Ladybug stealthily. Xavier/GM - Starting party conflict on the first session? Not what I’d advise, but it’s your character. Go ahead and make your Stealth roll now. Matt/Chat - <photo> 17 Xavier/GM - Yeah, that beats everyone’s passive Perception easily. You’ll sneak off handily without anyone noticing. —– “Jeanette, Ladybug is grabbed from behind by an unknown assailant. Roll to resist the grapple.” “Geez, already? Okay, what did my assailant get for their grapple? How screwed am I?” Xavier pretended to roll a die while consulting the message from Matt. “19.” “Okay, difficult, but not undoable… Crap.” “What’d you get?” “Nat 1…” “Hah! I rip off her earrings and claim them for myself! The Wish is mine!” “Seriously Matt?! What the hell?!” “Because it’s payback time! Payback for every character of mine killed in these hellish

campaigns!” “Oh, come on! You’re not the only person whose had a character die at this table! <GM> runs some pretty challenging campaigns, but they’re always fair!” “What about the time he killed Allric the Allmighty in a single round of combat?” “Dude, you tried to Leroy Jenkins straight into melee with a 4th-level Wizard that had a CON penalty. Even at full health you had like 10 hp.” “14!” “Not much better, dude.” “Guys, it’s fine. I can handle this. Okay, Matt. Chat the Barbarian managed to get the earrings-” “Yeah, Ladybug screams bloody murder when he rips them out. Good luck getting out of this in one piece.” “The moment Rena hears Ladybug scream, she bolts for the sound.” “So does Carapace.” “Vesperia too.” “-and with their current locations and movement speeds, I assume you’re all using the Dash action?, you’ve got maybe one round to decide on your Wish before they’re all over you, so choose carefully. And be aware that I plan to grant whatever you wish for in the worst possible way, just as I would if any of the others pulled this.” “Rena screams ‘What the HELL, Chat?! We’re supposed to protect the Miraculous, not use them for our own selfish purposes! Didn’t you listen to the Guardian? Such actions always bring misfortune upon those who misuse the Miraculous!’” “Because I am Chat, avatar of Destruction and I WISH THIS WORLD NEVER EXISTED!” There was dead silence at the table. “Matt… What… just… WHAT?!” “Hah! You like that?! How does it feel now that the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?!” “What the hell is your problem, Matt?!” “My problem? MY problem?! Do you know how much time I’ve spent making characters for these shitty campaigns only to have them turned into paste in one session?!” “Because you made primary spellcasters and played every last one of them like a barbarian, charging in headfirst without thinking! All of us breathed a sigh of relief when you revealed that your character finally matched your playstyle!” “I HATE BARBARIANS! THEY’RE BORING! I SHOULD GET TO PLAY CHARACTERS THAT CAN AT LEAST CHUCK FIREBALLS!” “THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD STOP RUNNING THEM FACE FIRST INTO ENEMY SWORDS!” “NONE OF YOU COULD EVER HANDLE THE FACT THE I MAKE MORE AWESOME CHARACTERS THAN ANY OF YOU, SO YOU JUST LET THIS DOUCHEBAG KILL THEM OFF SO YOU WOULDN’T GET OVERSHADOWED BY HOW AMAZING I AM! WELL NOW I KILLED SOMETHING YOU ALL WORKED HARD ON, SO SUCK IT! I’M DONE WITH ALL OF YOU FOREVER!” “MATT! HEY! GET BACK HERE YOU JERK! MATT!” “Crap, I think Olivia might actually kill him this time…” “It’s going to take all of us to stop her from getting arrested at least.” Xavier just watched numbly as the rest of the group ran out of his apartment. Over six months of work. Gone in less than an hour. He’d given so much to making sure this would work. He’d apologized to Matt at least twice for every character of his that had died to get him to come back. He’d agreed to demand after demand just to keep a familiar face on board, never dreaming he’d pull something like this. He’d nearly gotten fired from his job trying to rearrange his schedule to fit with everyone else’s. They’d somehow, miraculously, gotten the whole day with no other obligations among any of them and decided to make the first session a true marathon. They’d meet in the morning after breakfast and eat both lunch and dinner at the game table before calling it a night late in the evening. It was barely 10:00 in the morning and the whole campaign he’d slaved over for months was kaput. He never noticed the butterfly landing on his custom Miraculous-themed Game Master screen and being absorbed into it. “Game Master, I am Hawkmoth. Few people appreciate the kind of effort that goes into making something truly grand and memorable. I shall give you the power to bring your entire world to life and in return, I ask only for a few simple things.” This was wrong. Hawkmoth was the worst of the worst. The kind of person who would be at home among all the final bosses he’d ever made for his campaigns. Heartless, manipulative, cruel. “Not

enough? Ah, but what is a game without players? How would you like to have the Miraculous heroes themselves run your great campaign? Surely they would be far more appreciative than those ungrateful peons that left you alone with nothing but the broken remains of your efforts.” He knew all these things, but the allure of bringing the world he’d spent so much time on to life… What creator could ever turn down an offer like that? “I, the Game Master, accept… Hawkmoth.” “Excellent. And in exchange, you shall bring me one of two things: The Miraculous, or the identities of their wielders.” “No.” Hawkmoth was silent for a moment. “I beg your pardon?” “I said no. I am the Game Master. I make the world. I craft the challenges. I decide the rewards. But I do not do anything for anyone. If you want these things, get them yourself.” “If you refuse me, it shall be very unpleasant for you.” “No. As Game Master, I decide the limits of all powers within my realm. And I decide that you have none over me.” And with that, he unleashed his creation over all of Paris, drawing everyone and everything within into his sphere of influence. —– Ladybug blinked the spots (ha) out of her eyes as the flash of light died down and looked at herself. She didn’t remember transforming, but she was clearly in her spots. Except her red and black superhero uniform didn’t usually look like it was headed to a steampunk convention. Looking around, she tried to figure out what had happened and her eyes landed on a familiar belt and pants combo. Problem. Whoever this was, their groin was at eye level for her. She looked up. And up. To find a grinning Chat Noir, sans anything resembling a shirt and having put on at least a foot of height and apparently a hundred pounds of pure muscle, grinning down at her. “How’s the weather down there?” Chat Noir chuckled as he flexed his unfairly attractive muscleman physique. “I WILL END YOU!” the heroine snarled, already 100% done with whatever new insanity Hawkmoth had cooked up. Characters: Ladybug - Gnome Artificer (Master Tinkerer - Homebrew) Chat Noir - Human Barbarian (Path of the Beast) —– Vesperia had to admit, as Akuma attacks went, this was pretty dope. She was currently a halfling. A halfling! If it wasn’t for her fantasy ensemble being yellow and black, she’d have thought she stepped straight out of Lord of the Rings. Of course, fantasy setting or not, there were still things she’d have rather left back in the real world. Like racism. And stigma against mixed couples. Not directed at her, but rather at the two walking down the street next to her. “You know, people are staring…” she said as she craned her head to look at her companions. “Let them,” the Half-Elf Rena Rouge (who looked like a cross between a musician and a belly dancer) said from her perch atop the shoulders of the heavily armored (and surprisingly buff) Half-Orc Carapace. “They’re just jealous because their boyfriends can’t carry them everywhere.” Characters: Vesperia - Halfling Rogue (Scout) Rena Rouge - Half-Elf Bard (College of Glamour) Carapace - Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) —– Ryuko blinked as she studied the apparent snake-man-thing before her who claimed to be Viperion. She lifted a hand to study it and found what appeared to be bronze scales covering every inch of her skin. She sniffed herself, smelling the sharp tang of ozone. What was she? And why did she appear to be wearing wooden armor? Characters: Ryuko - Dragonborn (bronze) Druid (Circle of Storms - Third Party) Viperion - Naga Sorcerer (Divination Magic - Homebrew) —– Polymouse giggled as her friends ran over her. Okay, she’d freaked out a little to find a swarm of mice (with hair like hers no less) crawling all over her surprisingly mouse-like body when she’d come to in the middle of some forest somewhere. But she’d gotten over it pretty quickly. It helped that her new friends were adorable. It might help more if she could figure out where she was. Or find another person. Characters: Polymouse - Kobold

(rodentlike) Ranger (Swarmkeeper - Reskinned) —– Purple Tigress sighed as she felt the hair (fur?) on the top of her head being shifted around and twitched her new catlike ears in mild annoyance. “Are you quite done?” “Almost!” Pigella’s cheerful voice answered. “Your fur is so comfy!” Tigress sighed. Of course Pigella would end up being a fairy, and having her normal cheerful enthusiasm cranked up to previously unimagined levels. “I love you dearly, but if you start shouting 'hey listen’ I will stick you in a bottle.” “Aw, I love you too! Hey, what’s that?” “I think it’s my character sheet?” Characters: Purple Tigress - Tabaxi Paladin (Oath of Glory) Pigella - Fairy Cleric (Order Domain - Reskinned) —– “According to my analysis, we have been placed into what appears to be a Dungeons and Dragons campaign under 5th edition rules,” Pegasus stated in a mechanical monotone. “I am apparently a Warforged Wizard using the School of Conjuration whose spells create portals to bridge dimensions and summon or banish my intended targets. You are what is known as a Simic Hybrid, with the class of Monk, following the Way of the Drunken Master.” “Aweshum,” King Monkey slurred, his generally human appearance clad in monk’s robes marred by his monkey-like hands and feet as well as the monkey tail swishing behind him. “Why do you keep slurring like that? According to my sensors, your gourd is filled with only water.” “Gotta keep up appearanshes!” King Monkey grinned as he continued faking drunkenness. Characters: Pegasus - Warforged Wizard (School of Conjuration - Reskinned) King Monkey - Simic Hybrid Monk (Way of the Drunken Master) —– Hawkmoth studied the dark red horns growing out of his head in the mirror. The change in appearance was disconcerting, but he felt a rush of power in this new form that he’d never felt before. “Hmm… perhaps I can work with this…” “Speak for yourself…” Mayura muttered off to the side, ruffling her peacock-like feathers in annoyance as she tried to glare at the beak on her own face. Characters: Hawkmoth - Tiefling Dark Lord, Warlock Patron, Contracted by Lila Rossi, Volpina, Queen Wasp, and many others. Mayura - Kenku Assistant to the Dark Lord, Creator of Monsters —– “Oh, come on!” A figure in a cyan and white hooded robe complained as they waved a similarly colored umbrella around angrily. “Everyone else gets to be part of this adventure, why can’t I join them?” “Because you’re too OP. You’d completely break everything and remove all challenge from the adventure.” “But sitting around is no fun at all!” “If you like, I can put you in the position of the main quest giver. Your job would be to direct them towards their enemies and means of becoming stronger.” “That’s it?! I’m on 'mysterious hooded figure’ duty? Boo! Why can’t I fight with them?!” “Because you’re too OP. But if you insist, I’ll allow some Deus ex Machina interventions.” “YES!” “Five.” “I’m sorry?” “I’ll allow five interventions at your discretion to aid them when they are in peril. Once you have come to their aid five times, I will allow no more meetings save to impart quest information.” “That’s it?” “Yes. Choose your interventions wisely.” “So… if I manage to save one for when they fight Hawmoth and Mayura in the final battle…?” “Then I would allow you to join them of course.” “Score!” Characters: Bunnyx: Mysterious Hooded Figure, Deus-ex-Machina (5) Game Master: Akuma Lord of the Miraculous Campaign —– Addendum When the Game Master is finally purified and the damage reversed, it turns out that he took the effort to trap all of Paris in a temporal stasis bubble so that no matter how long passed inside no more than a few moments passed outside. Meaning that after what seemed like months in the bubble, it’s basically less than a minute after he was akumatized when everything is put back. All his friends, minus Matt, come back in bringing a new person named Zack that they vetted themselves to take Matt’s place in case he pulled something like what he did. And while he

has a similar playstyle to Matt, he’s savvy enough to know what kind of characters that is suited for and he loves playing barbarians. They all sit back down and restart the game they were all looking forward to.

—-

oh wow- that’s- wow. good job dude, seems like you worked on this a lot. Next time You should post this on your own account though, as this isn’t getting tagged or anything. Thank you though, you did a good job with this.

#submission

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xsarcasticwriterx · 4 years ago

Text

Wonderwall-part 2

Summary: Y/n find out something that changes the course of her relationship and life forever.

Pairing: tony stark x reader x bucky barnes

Warnings: angst and angst and angst, panic attack, swearing, some bitter sweet fluff,

note: I know its a weird change cause i went from she/her to you and stuff but i like writing you more than her so here we are pfft also i mention civil war but this story doesn't fit in the timeline it just fit for the scenario.

Wonderwall masterlist

You and tony sat on the ship with IVs being stuck into you. bucky sat next to you “hey... wanna talk about it? he ask softly. you shake your head. “not now not yet” you say with tears falling down your face. you had cheated on him. you cheated on the love of your life the person you'd been with for 3 years. Not only that but with someone who has tried to kill bucky on multiple occasions. Tony moved next to you. “Hey...” he said with a sigh. “Promise me we will never ever tell them about this” you say with a panic. he nods frantically. “that's exactly what i was going to say.” and with that you two spent the rest of the time in silence.

You sat in your room. It was 4 days after you got back. you felt weird and had been getting sick for the past few days. The others assumed it was due to your body still adjusting to being on land with consistent water and food. but you had other ideas as to why this could be happening.

Your hands shook as you paced the room. “fuck fuck fuck ok it'll be ok” you said to yourself. you walked into the bathroom and opened the pregnancy test box. panic was all you felt as you took it. you set a timer and walked back to your room. you continued to pace. what would you do if you were pregnant. what would you tell buck? what would you tell tony?! you two promised not to tell anyone. the timer went off. you put your head into your hands. “ok its probably negative i mean what are the chances” you say walking back to the bathroom. you heart was going at a pace that was scary. your whole body was shaking. you grab the test and flip it over.

positive.

you stared at the 2 lines. you felt tears fall down your face and your breathing become rapid. a panic attack that's what this was. you fell to the ground as your breathing became uneven. “no no no no no” you say getting louder. you curl up and feel your whole body shake. you try desperately to grab for every breath but its like inhaling nothing. you start to cough from lack of oxygen and tears. snot ran down your face. you grab onto your hair and scream into your legs. the door immediately opens and bucky rushes to your side.

“hey its ok im here” he says putting his hand on your shoulder. “count with me ok” he says. you barely hear him it's like being underwater but you nod with what strength you have. “ now 1″ he says. “1″ you reply dryly your throat is dry and your lungs feel empty.

you two count to 10 slowly. you gradually catch your breath. the shaking stops and you feel more exhausted than ever. he pulls you close. “wanna talk about it?” he ask kindly. you look down seeing the pregnancy test and bucky sees it too. he grabs it and turns it over. his breathing gets deeper and he stands up. he walks back and forth and nods. “tony?” he ask with an angered tone. you nod. his nodding and pacing gets faster.

he walks out the room. you stand up quickly and chase after him. “buck bucky don't” you say quickly seeing him walk towards the one door that would fuck up everything. he nods hard and fast. You feel the tears fall faster and faster. “bucky stop it!” you yell at him. Tony opens the door and immediately is met with a metal fist. “fuck!” tony says holding his nose. Bucky pushes him again which shoves tony down. bucky get on top and keeps hitting him. “bucky! stop!” you say going towards him you try to just pull him but that does nothing.ok next plan. you grab his shoulders “Stop!” you say using your powers.

you keep pulling him and he does stop. he falls back into your lap. “you promised me you'd never use your powers on me” he says looking up at you. “i'm sorry buck” you say tears falling still. his head falls back onto your stomach. tony looks up at you his face bloody and beat. the metal fist definitely did not help. he looks at you confused. “im pregnant” you say to him. you see his eyes widen. “wha-what” he says shaking his head.

“shes fucking pregnant with your damn child” bucky says trying to pull out of your arms. you panic and hold him with all your strength. “sleep” you say feeling him go limp in your arms. tony just blinks looking down at the floor. “your....” he says trailing off. his breathing gets deeper.

Doors open in the hall. natasha is the first to come out then steve. Bruce slowly emerges. Wanda and vision come out in a worry. Clint is the last to come out hes geared up ready for a fight. “what's going on?” nat asks. they see tony and bucky's bloody fist. “I thought we were past this?” steve ask in a panic. you look up at wanda and natasha.

Steve takes bucky away from your lap and takes him to the main room and lays him on the couch. You stand up with natasha and wanda's help. vision,clint, and bruce still look concerned but less worried. “anyone gonna tell us what happened?” clint ask.

Bruce hands tony a rag to put on his possibly broken nose. “uh let's go sit on the couch.” wanda says leading you to the main room. bruce helps tony to the couch. “I should...” you say nodding to bucky. They nod as you slowly go to him. you put your hands softly on his head. “wake” you say and immediately bucky shoots up angry and tears edging his eyes.

“buck buck hey calm” steve says grabbing bucky's shoulders. Buck stares at steve angrily. “sooo?” clint ask sitting on the couch. nat and wanda sat down too. you were in front of all of them. “tony and I spent a month and a half up there.” you start off. everyone sits up more. neither you or tony had spoken of your time up there sense yalls return.

“We saw no end and I was about to have a meet and greet with death himself. Tony was giving up his food and water to keep me going” you say looking down messing with your hands. “I don't understand why this led to bucky beating she shit out of tony.” Clint ask. “let her finish” steve said. “We got closer than ever and had agreed that there was no chance at us returning. We were desperate to stop the pain to just be with someone be cared for before the end. We slept together.” you state. bucky's breathing gets more rapid and his hands form fist. everyone starts to yell at tony natasha tried to silence it which only made her a target.

“Shut up!” you say yelling at them. They look at you surprised. “shut up before we end up with another battle and let me fucking finish what the hell i'm saying before attacking tony which by the way it takes two to tango so shut up please.” you say looking at the floor hands making fist. everyone turns to you and shuts up even bucky and tony.

“Now I am pregnant with tony child. Now before you all start yelling and attacking tony just try to understand the situation.” you say. “Understand the situation?!” bucky yells. steve tries to calm him. “no no just no ok. He mmm he saw her vulnerability and used it!” bucky says standing up and pointing at tony.

“Buck no that's not it he didn't do that. I saw a world without you with no one except me and tony on that stupid ship dying slowly and mercilessly.” you say feeling tears falling again. natasha stood up and walked to you. “I know your pissed as hell at tony and at y/n but right now” she points at tony “you are going to be a father” and she points at bucky “and if you stay, which i think you should, are going to be a step father so let's just try to deal with that right now.”

Natasha held you by her side. Bruce stood up “I’ll help it whatever way I can.” he said. “me too” clint said standing. “I will too” vision said standing. Wanda stood “You always got me.” she said with a small smile. steve looked at bucky then tony and then you. He sighed and stood up “you got me too” he said with a nod.

you swallow “thank you all of you” you say softly then look to tony and bucky. “You definitely have me i'm not going to bail on my child just because its a complicated situation.” tony said standing up. bucky let a soft growl out. “buck?” you ask hesitantly. He looks up at you and shakes his head. He walks off and soon yall hear a door slam.

You dropped your head. “Give him time” nat whispered to you. you nod. she nods to steve and steve nods and walks after bucky. natasha takes you to your room nodding to tony who nods back and walks to the kitchen. sittin on your bed you look down at your stomach. there's a person in there well soon they'll be. nat sat next to you “how're you feeling?” she ask. “I don't know...Im going to have a child and it's not the child of who i always pictured it as. I broke the love of my life's heart and broke tony and I’s promise.”

“bucky just needs time is all steve is talking to him and i'm sure tony understands that you couldn't keep it a secret you two made that promise when you didn't know you were pregnant and don't worry you have all of us here to help and protect you.” nat said. “I’m an avenger...I had a father who used me as a testing subject and gave me powers i couldn't control till i was 17 how am i supposed to be a parent? Their father is a billionaire who is ready to die at any shot and their possible step father was born in 1917 and was brainwashed to be a murderer.” you spew out.

“you'll be ok we are all broken and a mess but together we can raise this child. I promise. We will figure it out” she says rubbing your arm. The door opens and in comes tony with a glass of water. “figured you could use this” he says walking towards you. nat looks at you and you nod. she stands up and walks out.

Tony sits next to you. “i'm sorry” you say immediately scared of tony being angry. “no no don't apologize you had to say something its not like you could just avoid questions when your stomach grows.” he says with a chuckle. “y/n i want you to know i am going to be the best damn father i can be and if you and bucky stay together...because you and bucky will stay together i know he will have a huge role in that child's life and i'm so glad they get 3 parents who love them more than anything in this world. I will protect the with my life I will not die for them. I will live for them.”

“Tony...” is all you can get out through choked sobs. you hug him holding him close. “thank you” you say pulling away “what about pepper?” you ask concerned. “I’ll tell her just need to let this” he moves his hand to the room “settle before any more people get mad” he says. the door slowly opens and an exhausted, messy haired, red eyed, wrapped hand, bucky opens the door. upon seeing tony he sighs.

“can I speak to her alone?” he says with no emotion. tony nods and walks past bucky out of the room. tony closes the door behind him and walks towards the bed.

he sits next to you and sighs. “buck-” you starts but he cuts you off “don't....let me speak” he says. “I am pissed as hell at you dont get me wrong...but i understand...you didn't see a possibility as being back here all you saw was death. I will be the best step father i can and the best boyfriend i can be. I am far from forgiving you but I still love you and I don't want us to end and this child is amazing news even if they aren't mine. I will be as much of a father to this kid as I can be and I will raise them as my own. I'm here for the long run.” he says looking at you. you smile and hug him. “I love you too bucky...thank you” you say.

This journey was far from over but for now the world felt damn good. This kid would have 3 parents who love them more than anything or anyone in this world.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu fanfiction #marvel #marvel cinematic universe

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