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velvetures · 1 year ago

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Doesn't Crease

A/N: Thanks to everyone supporting this new blog I've started working on. I'm really happy to see so many new people and get the chance to write some more. <3 Summary: You're just trying to keep Ghost from losing his eyesight from being purposefully ignorant. T/W: none :)

Looking out for the guys of the 141 typically meant doing things for them that most regular people wouldn’t even think twice about doing on a normal day. They often took care of weapons and missions far better than themselves, and it often resulted in you finding out that they appropriated objects or products for uses that had not a damn thing to do with what they used them for. And the most frustrating of all of them came from how you came to learn about Ghost’s eye paint, and how it stayed on so well for days on end.

You’d been in the Middle East for nearing five days and after being holed up in a cave just on the outskirts of a little town, a safe house was cleared for your use until the end of the mission. It was so damn good to have a shower and put on some clean clothes that you couldn’t have been in better spirits as you walked out of the bathroom into the living area and noticed Ghost sitting in a change of clothes and a much less dirty mask with his face half-painted in that unidentified stuff he used. You watched with an admitted interest as he dipped a couple fingers into a small plastic container that held the substance before smearing more over the bridge of his nose towards the uncovered left side of his face.

“Quit starin’.” he muttered lowly, still very focused on the task at hand and getting the stuff smeared over his eyelid and up to the waterline of his eye.

You didn’t particularly care to listen and just sat down across from him and pulled your bare feet up into the chair and watched just as raptly. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him do this for sure, yet every time filled you with a sense of… excitement. Like you were watching the man under the mask slowly transform himself into The Ghost right in front of you. Certainly a childish kind of thrill, yet you never missed the chance to watch Ghost do anything, really. Curiosity always got the better of you when it came to the mysterious Lieutenant, and that black stuff he smeared on his face wasn’t exempt from your silent questioning.

“Will you leave me the fuck alone?” He growled, steely eyes darting right to you with a harsh edge to his posture.

Ghost always had a prickly attitude about everything, good or bad. Fuck, you could tell him that he’d won a million dollars and he’s just grumble about how paying taxes on it would be a bitch. Never seeing any bright side of a situation. But that also didn’t come as much of a shock. The Lieutenant always put you in mind of this black shadow just floating around wherever he pleased or was needed for the time being.

You’d made jokes to Gaz and Soap about his sandpaper-like disposition and shitty attitude before, oftentimes enjoying a short moment before sleeping -without Ghost present of course- where you mimicked him for entertainment. It always got you a bunch of laughs considering the stark contrast between your own character and the Lieutenant’s. You didn’t mean anything negative by it, Ghost just made it too easy to poke quiet fun at him every so often.

“If you answer a question, I’ll leave.” You bargain quickly, already knowing exactly what you wanted to ask about. Ghost just growled in frustration, leaning his forearms on his massive thighs and looked pointedly at you, silently demanding you got on with your foolishness so that you could go off somewhere else and be a pain in the ass for someone else.

“What is that?” You nod to the small container holding his eye paint.

“I mean… the stuff you put on your face?” Unconsciously the question comes out of your mouth a tad bit nervously and hesitant. Not that you had the slightest fear of Ghost being upset with you in a dangerous way, but more so that you were prying into something that he felt was too personal to discuss. That kind of assumption wouldn’t have typically been far off with how private he liked to keep things.

Contrary to his typical behavior Ghost gave a small huff of something close to laughter. Apparently amused and puts the lid on the small jar to toss it across the room for you to get a better look at it. Unscrewing the lid of the small plastic travel-jar, you were met with a very familiar smell. And it wasn’t the kind of cosmetic fragrance you were expecting it come from it.

“Gun grease,” Ghost answered quite offhandedly, acting as if that wasn’t a totally ridiculous idea. Speechless and naively shocked, you look up at the Lieutenant with wide eyes and your mouth a little agape. The look on your face only amuses Ghost that much more and a little flash of it shows in his dark eyes.

“You put slide action lubricant on your face!?” You almost hiss the words out, disbelieving and in total awe of how Ghost hadn’t lost his eyesight, got chemical burns, or some other type of injury from doing something so unheard of.

Ghost shrugs noncommittally. “I prefer Hoppes. Theirs lasts the longest.” He said standing up and stretching his neck side to side.

“You have a fucking brand preference?” Your mouth really does drop open now.

“Brand and color.” He replies smugly, striding over towards you and grabbing the small container and opening it back up to dab more over his eyebrow which hadn’t been fully covered earlier.

“Hoppes…” You repeat the word, thinking for a moment. “You mean that kind that comes in the syringe?” The image of the component and how it hangs in a little package in the gun care and cleaning aisle at every store. you’ve ever been to.

“One and the same.”

Your eyes roll skyward and you can’t help but groan out. “Good god…”

For weeks after that conversation, your mind revisits the thought of Ghost using a ten-dollar tube of gun grease not only as weapon maintenance but also as a skincare product. Surely he’s not stupid enough to think that it’s not harmful to his skin right? He’s got to know that when it gets into his eyes it can cause damage? It comes to a breaking point when you go into a local drugstore for a prescription painkiller for a recent on-mission injury and notice an End Cap display showing a new line of gel eyeliners that have come out boasting 48hr smudge resistance and an almost instant, comfortable dry-down.

You stop dead in your tracks, almost totally forgetting about needing to pick up the week-supply of pills for yourself as you gather up every single one of them in the color black and shove them at the woman working behind the register. The look she gives you is one of masked concern, but you just hand over the cash for it and your prescription before heading back out to your car with a sense of hopefulness that your Lieutenant won’t lose his eyesight prematurely if you can help it.

The following day you’re to report in to HQ for a meeting with the team for a pre-op report review, and have the chance to give Ghost your… gift of sorts. You’re walking out of the meeting, purposefully walking beside of him instead of talking to Soap or asking Price some lingering questions you have so your opportunity doesn’t slip by you.

“Hey, uh do you have a minute?” You nudge his arm with your elbow, looking up at him out of the corner of your eye. Ghost’s eyebrows raise, and he silently gives a stiff nod, not caring to elaborate any further.

Instead of peeling off towards his office down the corridor to your left, he keeps following you silently until you get out to your vehicle parked outside. Although he doesn’t say anything about it, you can feel his questioning look burning into your back as you unlock the doors and reach into your passenger seat for a small black bag that rattles with the sound of thick glass knocking up against each other inside. Even when handing it to him, he’s reluctant to uncross his arms and accept the bag from you because he’s much more comfortable just staring at you coldly. No doubt expecting you to do what you’re best at and waste his time for something inconsequential.

“Here… I really don’t want you going blind anytime soon.” You give him a half smile, dropping the gift bag in his hand. With that, you give a small goodbye and go around to the other side of your vehicle, and drive off before the Lieutenant can open the bag or question you about what the fuck you’d just given him thirty small jars of.

Once home you go about getting some clothes washed for the upcoming mission and take some time to make a call to your neighbor to ask if she can look in on your home and plants while you’re away and pay the water and electric bill since you’ll be out of town when the bills will be mailed. You’re halfway through telling the older woman that you’ll go ahead and write a couple of checks that she can take to the bank with her own bills when you feel your phone vibrate against your ear.

Your elderly neighbor gives her happy acceptance of helping out and gets off the phone so she doesn’t miss her nightly show while you check the notification you’ve received. It’s from a number not saved, but it’s not spam text or one of those random kinds of messages you get when someone uses the wrong number. It’s short, sweet, and to the point. The verbiage and almost awkward tone give you all the information you need to know that the Lieutenant had not only opened his gift but asked someone for your private cell so that he could give his… thoughts.

-Dries down a lot quicker. I like that it doesn’t crease.-

Reblogs & Comments are Appreciated <3

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures

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angelicyoongie · 1 year ago

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The Obsidian Pearl (I)

— pairing: mermaid seokjin x (f) reader — word count: 7.2k — warnings: yandere, descriptions of death/blood/violence — summary: Sailing through The Dead Man’s Passage is a death sentence and the whole crew knows it. But with the ship’s stocks dwindling fast, your captain is left with no other choice. When a haunting melody makes the crew jump ship one by one, you find yourself alone with the demon lurking in the murky red water. As the creature beckons you to jump into the icy ocean – “come to me, pet” – you find that you can’t do anything but obey.

Part 01 - 02

"Captain, this is a bad idea."

A hush falls over the deck, a few whispers being passed back and forth between the crew as they watch you challenge the captain's decision. There's an audible gulp somewhere behind you as the captain pins you with a hard gaze, his jaw clenched tight with annoyance.

He taps the map that's spread out in front of him, voice leaving no room for argument as he says, "This is the fastest route."

"That may be, Captain, but it's not worth the risk. Haven't you heard the stories? The numerous crews that have gone missing after sailing in this area? There's a reason it's called The Dead Man's passage!”

A ripple of murmurs flow through the crowd at the reminder, the passage's deadly reputation making it somewhat of a ghost story – a tale every seafarer hears at one point or another. You don't know much; the few crews that have managed the journey safely have been tight-lipped about their experience, their eyes left haunted. The part that has always baffled you the most about the stories is that the ships themselves always make it through the passage, fully intact and filled with loot, but their crews never do. It's like they all vanish without a trace, like they've just been whisked away by the wind – never to be seen again.

The captain clears his throat, a sharp sound that cuts through the growing voices on deck, silencing them immediately.

"We have no choice. If we continue on the intended route we'll run out of food and fresh water a week before we reach the nearest port. Cutting through the passage will save us valuable time. I would never take this risk and endanger the crew if someone had done their job properly."

You glance to the side, catching the eye of the cowering boatswain.

He's young, far too young to handle such responsibility on his own. He's only just grown into his ears, the top of his head barely reaching the captain's shoulders. He was thrust into the position much too soon, but it couldn't be helped. The previous boatswain suddenly succumbed to an infected wound just a few days before you were scheduled to leave the last port. It left all of you scrambling to pick up the slack around the ship and the poor lad must've been forgotten in the mess.

You had tried to delegate someone to help him, but the captain had been firm that he needed to do it on his own, to build character. It's no wonder he wasn't able to calculate the needed supplies correctly, not when he was still grieving the loss of his mentor at the same time.

You notice the bead of sweat that rolls down the side of the young boatswain's face, his skin flushed with nerves. You can't let the poor lad be punished for his sorrow, not when this whole predicament could've been avoided.

Letting out a small sigh, you lower your head in apology, "I'm sorry, Captain. I should've made sure everything was in order, this is no one's fault but mine."

"I expected better from you, Quartermaster," The Captain's comment cuts deep, even though you know this wasn't your fault. "Very well. Seeing as you have placed our crew in peril, I doubt you will oppose the solution to the problem you have created?"

You grit your teeth, dipping your head lower as you say, "Of course not, Captain. I apologize for speaking out of turn."

Clenching your hands by your side, you try to focus on the hot sun beating down your neck as you tune out the captain's voice. Getting angry won't do you any good here, not when you've already admitted defeat. The heavy thumps of feet moving all around you tells you that the crew is already beginning to change the ship's course, listening to the captain's orders as he yells them out. You shake your head, stomach churning as you realize that no one dares to challenge him, even if they all know deep down that they're being lead straight to the deaths.

You steel yourself as polished boots pause in front of yours, eye twitching as you look up and meet the captain's gaze. His solemn expression doesn't quite match the light tone of his voice as he leans in to say, "A hungry crew is a dangerous crew, Y/n. I don't think I need to remind you why that is."

Suppressing a shudder, you don't give him the satisfaction of knowing that his little comment has had the intended effect, bad memories already swirling in the back of your mind. Instead, you stare him down, defiant as ever until he shakes his head and walks off in the direction of his cabin.

It's only when he's out of sight that you reach up to trace the raised skin on your throat, the jagged scar that greets you whenever you glance in a mirror. No, there's no reminder nor threat needed. You know first-hand just how desperate a person can become when they're feeling depraved of what makes them human.

You swallow thickly, ripping your hand away from the old wound. There's no use dwelling on the past, there's nothing from that day that can help you now.

The sound of the sails billowing out as they catch more wind jerks your attention forward, gentle waves crashing against the hull of the ship as it picks up speed. You take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the salty air and pray to whatever god that might be listening that you'll be able to make it out of the passage alive.

The night has already fallen, the moon high in the sky, by the time you catch sight of the two large rock formations in the distance. Everything about the passage screams unnatural and strange, the two small mountains practically appearing out of nowhere in the middle of the sea. While they look to be on the smaller side, you know there's no way to sail around them. The waters are littered with reefs and strong currents, all traps that are bound to sink unsuspecting ships. You can make out the faint outline of a few of them on the horizon, their broken masts and half-sunken hulls serving as a haunting reminder that the only way past the passage is through it.

You squint as you notice a faint glow in the distance, the light too obscure to make out properly on deck. You quickly make your way up to the helm, hoping the raised platform will provide a better view.

"What's that?" You murmur, shooting the coxswain a worried glance.

"Ain't anything good, that's for sure," The man grumbles in reply. He tightens his grip on the wheel, eyebrows drawn tight as the ship steadily draws closer and closer.

The faint glow grows brighter with each passing minute, more and more sources of light appearing all over the two mountains. You suck in a breath as the ship enters the passage, the area so tight it barely allows for two vessels to pass each other. The close proximity allows you to see the lights more clearly, and you're shocked to discover that it seems to be coming from huge white flowers sprouting from the mountain sides. There's something algae-like clinging to the base of the mountains as well, illuminating the edges of the passage like guiding lights, beckoning you in.

The ship glides smoothly through the channel, the soft current carrying you all through the quiet water. Based on the stories you've heard you were expecting treacherous waves and jagged rocks that appear out of nowhere to throw the crew off-board, but there's none of that. In fact, there's nothing that points to this passage being dangerous at all, no signs of broken planks or fabric clinging to the mountain, no sunken ships visible below the surface. You can almost fool yourself into thinking that no other humans have ever sailed through these mountains before.

As beautiful and untouched as the passage may seem, there is something terribly unnerving about the silence that has settled over the ship. The crew has gone completely still, like they're scared of breaking the quiet. Likewise, you can't really find it in yourself to make any noise either, your lips pressed firmly together as you anxiously scan the mountain for hidden threats.

You've almost made it halfway through the passage when you first hear it.

There's a low hum, barely louder than the noise of the water breaking against the ship, that echoes between the tall rocks. You have to strain your ears to hear it at first, but the sound seems to grow with each gust of wind in the ship's sails, gradually increasing the further into the mountains you go.

You can't make out any words, the language either too old or foreign for you to understand, but the angelic voice behind them makes your heart yearn. You can feel the melody wrapping itself around your heart, squeezing, as it roots itself in your ribcage, sorrowful tendrils clinging to each bone.

"Come to the water."

The wind carries the whisper straight to your ear, caressing your skin like a warm breath, before it travels on. You jerk forward at the sensation, whipping your head around to locate where the voice could be coming from.

There's no one around you aside from the coxswain who looks to be lost in thought, mouth slack as he stares ahead.

You glance down at the deck, frowning as you notice that more and more of the crew are beginning to abandon their posts. They're all migrating to the right side of the ship, walking on unsteady feet like they've been guzzling down barrels of mead.

"Come to me."

You wince as the singing grows more intense, your breath stuttering in your chest in response to the voice that's so desperately calling for you.

You blink, eyes struggling to adjust, as the flowers and the algae on the mountains begin to thin out, taking their light away with them. As if that wasn't bad enough, a great shadow is suddenly cast upon the passage, the last of the illumination you had rapidly disappearing behind thick clouds as the moon is hidden away.

You curse under your breath, mentally taking note of the lit oil lanterns hanging around the ship. There's ten, no– nine, but if you gather them all up and place them near the bow, maybe it'll be enough light to get the ship safely out of the passage?

"I need to– hey!" You stumble back as the coxswain bumps into you, his eyes unseeing as he stumbles towards the stairs to the lower deck. A sudden drift to the side propels him forward, allowing him to slip out of your reach before you can grab his shirt and haul him back.

"Shit," You hiss, only giving yourself a split second to hesitate before whirling around to grab the wheel. The wood has already begun to turn left without the coxswain's steady hands to lead the way and the ship groans as you hurry to correct it back on the right path.

You keep a tight vise on the wheel, leaning forward to yell out for another crewmate to take over, when you hear the first splash.

Hurriedly glancing down at the deck, the swaying lanterns provide just enough light to show one of the cooks climbing over the railing, his movements stilted and jerky as he suddenly flings himself off the ship. Your scream is caught in your throat, your eyes wide with horror as you hear the subsequent splash of his body hitting the water.

What in the gods is going on?

Feet rooted to the floor and fear squeezing the back of your neck with a iron grip, you can only watch as the crew all clamber over the railing, throwing themselves off the ship one by one. The steady melody echoing between the mountains is only interrupted by the terrible sound of bodies sinking into the ocean.

Dread settles deep into the pit of your stomach as you realize there are no screams, no gasps for air, only silence – and him, the voice that's begging you to come rest along your brethren in the deep, peaceful ocean.

"No," You wheeze, shaking your head to rid the fog that's has begun creeping in. You cling to the wheel, fingers slick with sweat as you try to keep the ship steady, ignoring the blur that has settled at the edge of your vision.

"Captain!"

Hope shoots through your veins as you find your captain in the dwindling crowd, his bulky figure illuminated by the dancing lights as he stumbles over to the nearest crewmate, pulling them back from the railing. He pushes a few men back, his strength sending them sliding back to the middle of the deck.

You almost loosen your grip, ready to run down and help him, when he abruptly turns his back on them and jumps over the railing in one swift motion. He lands on the small ledge just outside of it, heels shuffling not to slip as he grips the banister with one arm.

"Captain!" The scream rips out of your throat, carrying across the silent deck like a bullet.

The captain shudders as it reaches him, his body jerking back and forth like he can't make up his mind on whether he should jump or not. Horrified, you watch as he twists his upper body around to face you, his expression stricken as he meets your gaze across the ship. He almost looks like he just came out of a trance, his face drenched in sweat and skin grey with fear as he tries to figure out how he ended up at the edge of the vessel.

You can see mouth opening, his lips forming around the first syllables of your name when the angelic voice suddenly grows louder, the haunting melody reverberating between the mountains. The captain's mouth goes slack, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he once again succumbs to spell that was controlling him. The last thing you see as the captain lets go of the railing, is the serene smile that takes over his face, his eyes closing as he falls backwards into the ocean.

Heart pounding inside your chest, you stare blankly at the now empty spot where your captain stood. You flinch, sick to your stomach, at the heavy splash that follows only seconds later.

"Lay your tired body to rest."

Your fingers twitch at the command, a little whisper in the back of your mind begging you to obey – to give in. You legs have started to shake, sweat sliding down your back in a steady stream at the effort it takes to resist the pull.

Even as you struggle to gulp down enough air, your body in overdrive from the unfathomable things you've just seen, you still find your pulse quickening, panic flooding every fibre of your being as it finally dawns on you what's going on.

You've sailed right into the territory of a siren.

Perhaps you should have seen it coming – the tales of the passage all emphasize how it's only the crew that go missing, not the ships. You've heard whispers about creatures lurking in the deep ocean, of monsters that eat humans, but you never expected that you would ever encounter them. They were folktales, something you chose not to believe in to protect your own sanity as a seafarer. Now, you can only curse yourself for not trusting your instincts the moment you felt the unearthly atmosphere of the mountains; that you didn't have enough forethought to at least stuff your ears and tie each crewmate to their post as a precaution.

Maybe it would've been enough to save the them – to save you.

You cower against the wheel as the song grows so loud it causes your ears to ring, the voice promising peace and eternal slumber. It urges, demands, your body to move and you whimper fearfully as your feet take a step back against your will.

You can't tell how much time has passed since the ship entered the mountains, it could be mere minutes or it could be hours – but as you peer into the looming darkness, you can finally make out where the passage ends and opens back up to the vast sea. The joy fizzles out before it can even take root, the sight in front of you filling you with a sense of glum acceptance. Even if you can see the end, there's no way you'll make it there. The ship is moving too slow, almost no wind making it past the tall mountains.

Your head throbs painfully as the siren's whispers turns more insistent. You can feel the creature's wrath, how angry he is that you're still resisting him. The increased pressure behind your skull makes you groan, your vision going dark as you're hit with a sudden dizzy spell.

Gripping the wheel, you're confused to find that the woods feels thicker, less polished, than it was only seconds before. You force your eyelashes to part despite the sharp pain it gives you, blinking furiously to clear your swimming vision. Your knees nearly buckle as the silent waters below come into focus, your body no longer on the upper deck. Dazed, you stare at the white knuckled grip you have on the railing, your feet tucked into the openings between the posts.

"Oh gods," You whisper shakily.

You have no idea how you got here.

The sound of a soft splash makes you turn your head to the side. Your throat runs dry as you watch the big circle of ripples that fan out from the spot where something dived underwater, the waves much too big to come from a normal fish. As you keep looking at the one spot in disbelief, one of the lanterns on the ship sway outwards, following the rocking of the ship.

It takes you a moment to realize what you're seeing, the stale bread you had earlier that day shooting up your throat as the waters on the side of the vessel is lit up. The ocean is no longer the clear blue it was when you entered the passage but rather a murky red, saturated with what must be the blood of your crewmates.

The sight makes you heave, tears springing to your eyes as the reality truly settles in.

You're going to die.

The siren – the predator – luring you all to your deaths, is clearly waiting right below, ripping everyone apart the moment they're submerged below the water. Even if the shock of the cold sea woke them up from their trance, they would have no chance to fight off such a vicious creature. You have no chance. The moment you step off the ship, you're dead.

You sob as the shock tapers off, the singing once again hitting you with full force. You can't stop your own body as you clumsily clamber over the railing, your feet moving without your permission. It's only when you hit the ledge that you find yourself able to jerk back, a moment of temporary control allowing you to plaster yourself against the banister.

Staring down at the crimson sea, you find your mind going blank. You always expected to see flashes of your life pass by your eyes when faced with certain death but there's nothing. No happy memories to numb the inevitable pain of being torn apart, muscles shredded to bits as water fills your lungs. No echoes of the voices you adore saying that they love you and that everything will be okay.

Instead, there's only the deadly quiet sea and the siren's taunting whispers urging you to jump.

You eye the dark water, noticing a large shape moving closer just under the surface of the ocean. You mindlessly reach for the dagger on your hip, clutching it tightly in your hand even if it means you're only clinging on with one arm. If your death is unavoidable, then you're sure as hell not going down without inflicting a deep cut or two.

As something begins to emerge from the water, the song that has been constantly ringing between your ears suddenly quiets down. Your skin puckers with goosebumps, all the hair on your body rising in fear as a head slowly rises above the surface. The siren's dark locks are one with the water, the long strands flowing into the ocean like spindly fingers. In the dark, there's no telling where it ends, as if the ocean is merely an extension of the creature itself.

Two pitch black eyes, as dark and deep as the starless skies above, lock onto yours the moment they rise above the surface. The flickering lantern doesn't offer much assistance but the poor light tells you that it has no discernible pupils, nothing to indicate that there's any life in them. It's like staring into an endless void.

Despite the chill those eyes send down your spine, your feet willingly takes another step forward, like the mere presence of the creature alone is enough to entrance your body. You let out a pained scream as you slip, your shoulder popping loudly as you manage to grab onto a post, one arm working desperately to keep you from failing into the water below.

"No, no, no," You whimper, gravity making it impossible to reach up with your other arm. You won't be able to pull yourself up even if you drop your knife, the small ledge above making it impossible to locate another post.

You glance down as you dangle from the ship, your grip almost slipping out of fright as the siren's maw comes into view above water. His jaw is unhinged, hellish, mouth stretched way past that of a normal human. It's filled with rows of fang-like teeth, all stained with crusted blood. Terrified, you watch as the siren seems to simply pop his jaw back into place, like the fact that it was just opened so wide it was touching his sternum poses no issues at all.

The creature tilts his head, thinking, as he watches you struggle to drag yourself up. He swims closer, the movement so fluent it looks like he's just gliding through the water. Your arm is shaking terribly by the time he's only a few feet away from where you'll hit the ocean, your shoulder screaming with hurt from holding on for so long.

Through the blinding pain, you see the siren reach out a webbed hand, his long black claws nearly the size of his fingers. He gives you a smile you can only describe as sinister, blood stained teeth on display and his voice melodious as he says, "Come, pet."

You can feel the thrall taking hold this time, your body willingly going slack one limb after the other. You have no time to think, no time to act, before your hand simply just lets go of the railing on its own volition.

In the second it takes for your body to fall, before your eyes squeeze shut and your body is surrendered to the water – all you can think as you spare the skies one last glance, is that the gods must be cruel if they can't even give you a starry night to look upon before you're torn apart by their horrific creation.

Groaning, you slowly open your eyes. There's a dull ache at the base of your skull and every blink up at the pink-tinted sky only seems to make it throb more. The surface you're lying on is hard, terribly uncomfortable, and there's no steady rocking motion to soothe you back to sleep for a few extra minutes of rest.

Something feels wrong.

It's only when your eyes have fully adjusted to the soft light that you're snapped back to reality, the distant sound of waves breaking bringing back the memories of the night before. You jerk upright, heart racing, as they come flooding in all at once. The crew, the siren, the blood. You jumped. You should be dead.

You force yourself to take slow, steady breaths, shakily inhaling air through your nose as you glance around. You can't afford to panic right now, not when you don't know where the creature is or when it might come back.

The morning sun is just barely peeking over the top of the mountain that's blocking most of your sight, casting a large shadow over what appears to be a lake just in front of you. It's still dark, still dawn, on your side of the mountain and it makes the faint glow on the rocks all the more noticeable. You're too far away to tell for sure but you have a terrible feeling that it's likely the same flowers that you sailed past in the passage. And if you can still see them, that means you must be on the other side of the mountains you attempted to travel through.

You're sitting near the mouth of what appears to be a small cave, connected by a large piece of flat stone that's jutting out into the lake. It's lined with clusters of big and small rocks, creating an odd border along the sides of it. The mountain around the cave is unnaturally smooth, the incline too sharp for you to even think about climbing it. No matter how much you stare at the rock formation that's surrounding you, you can't find a way out. There's no open space that would allow you to escape.

You eye the other side of the lake with a shudder, noting that it looks to be more rough there with a few ledges and ridges you can probably use to haul yourself up. The only problem is; you'll have to actually swim across the deep body of water first. It sounds like a sure-fire way to get yourself eaten, though you doubt staying here is much better. The creature must've kept you alive and brought you here for a reason, and you're really don't want to find out why that is.

A pained gasp escapes you as you pull your right shoulder back. The initial adrenaline and panic when you woke up must've blocked out most of the hurt of your dislocated shoulder but now that it's starting to fade, it's coming back fast. The bone is still very much popped out of its socket, the area inflamed and swollen as you lightly touch it with trembling fingers. You swallow thickly as your arm begins to twitch, a burning spasm racing from your shoulder to the tips of your hands.

You bite down on your lip to stop your groan, tasting blood as the involuntary cramp continues.

"Fuck," You wheeze, eyes glazing over as you stare at the rising sun. If you're going to have any chance of escaping, you have no choice but to fix your shoulder.

You stuff the damp material of your shirt into your mouth, hoping it'll be enough to muffle your voice as you carefully lie back down on the stone. Years on the sea has taught you a thing or two and dislocated shoulders are a common injury when you're part of a crew that loves to brawl whenever they visit a tavern. You've seen the way they pale and yell when it gets adjusted and while you have no idea if the siren will be able to hear you scream – you'd rather not risk it.

White hot pain pulses out of your shoulder as you extend the arm to raise it above your head, your vision blurring as you slowly reach for your opposite shoulder behind your head. It hurts, gods, it hurts, but you have to do this. You release a muffled scream as the dislocated bone finally pops back into place, cold sweat dripping down your temple as you tremor with pain. You lay there, harshly panting through the cloth in your mouth, until the hurt subsides to only an ache.

You wince as you push yourself off the hard stone, spitting out your shirt to release a labored breath. Your body feels battered and bruised, completely worn down from all the horrors you've been through in the past six or so hours. You have no idea if you even have enough energy to make it across the lake, the distance probably greater than it looks, but what other alternative do you have?

Just as you're about to get off the ground, the sound of a soft splash echoes between the mountain walls. You jerk, heart skipping a painful beat in your chest as you frantically scan the water. You freeze when you notice how the surface is rippling much closer than expected, only a third of the lake between you and the waves that are parting around a dark shadow.

Out of instinct, your hand falls to your hip, searching for your knife. Your fingers only grip around air, the smooth handle nowhere to be found. In your panic, it takes you a second too long to remember that you held it as you fell from the ship, the knife probably lost somewhere at the bottom of the passage.

You scramble back on the rock as the creature's outline becomes visible, hands reaching out blindly behind your back for anything that can be used as a weapon.

You falter, blood running cold, as pale arms suddenly reach out of the water, planting themselves square on the edge of the rock. The siren heaves himself up without any issues, resting his back against one of the larger stones that's lining the flat extension of the cave. Water drips off his body like sparkling crystals in the morning light, giving a healthy glow to his otherwise almost sickly white skin. His long black hair hangs like a curtain in front of his face, the strands reaching far past his back, dipping into the water.

Patches of scales litter his arms and abdomen; a long fin running down the length of his spine. You find it hard to believe your own eyes as you stare at his stomach, at the area where the creature's human-like qualities disappear completely and transitions into that of a fish. His tail is long and thick, dreadfully similar to a serpent in the way it undulates on the rock as the water slowly evaporates from its scales. The slight movement allows the sun to dance across the siren's tail, showing off the iridescent glow that was hidden by the dark night. The sight leaves you transfixed, hues of colors you've only seen in the sky shimmering across his body.

Your attention is only stolen away when the creature raises one of his hands, his webbed fingers and pointed, long nails looking like they've been dipped in black ink. He runs his claws through his hair, parting the long locks that've been hiding his face.

You jerk back, swallowing thickly, when you find that the siren is already staring in your direction. His eyes are just as dark and emotionless as you can recall from the night before, two endless pools of black. The lack of a discernible pupil is unnerving, it makes it all that much harder to tell just where the creature is really looking. Long lashes frame his haunting eyes and the perfect slope of his nose leads down to the plushest, red lips you've ever seen.

You feel yourself pale as he opens his mouth, those horrible sharp teeth becoming visible as he calmly says, "Your knife is long gone, human." The siren dips his head slightly, looking at the way your hand is still resting near your hip, desperate for the familiar comfort of your knife.

What?

Your mouth parts in disbelief, brain slow to compute the fact that the creature just spoke, out loud, with a voice that sounded eerily human and ordinary.

"Can you not talk, pet? I swear I heard your sweet voice refusing me when the moon was high."

"I-I can," You stumble over your words, tongue twisting in your mouth under the siren's watchful gaze.

"Wonderful!" Something pleased passes over his face, his fin hitting the water with an excited splash. The loud sound makes you flinch, droplets spraying up on the rock just shy of your legs. The corner of the siren's lips quirks at your reaction, as if he finds it funny.

It reminds you of the way your crew used to look at street dogs, their expressions taunting and terrible as they made them do tricks for scraps of food.

It's cheap entertainment, they always used to tell you.

You can't help but wonder if that's what you are – mere entertainment for the siren until he decides to stop playing with his food.

The thought makes you furious. The mocking twist of his lips gives you a sudden rush of defiance, your rebellious nature rearing its head despite the dangerous predator right in front of you. Perhaps there might have been some truth to what your captain always liked to say – you never quite learned when to back down and keep quiet.

You breathe in slowly through your nose, attempting to calm your racing heart as you say, "How are you speaking a language I understand?"

"Easy. Humans are simple creatures and so are their languages," He answers, cocking his head.

"What are you, then?" You blurt, "Parts of you look human and the rest does not. Were you cursed?"

Like the flip of a coin, the siren's expression turns hard, offended, at the insinuation that he might be human. He jerks forward, lips pulling back to reveal his sharp teeth as he lets out a terrible hiss. The sight sends all the alarm bells inside of you blaring, your shoulder screaming in protest as you collapse backward, using your elbows to drag yourself further inside the cave.

"I am not a fragile human," He scoffs, turning his head to glance out on the lake. He flexes his tail to deliver another harsh smack to the water surface, the sound bouncing between the walls of crater. "Have you not heard stories, little human? Of creatures blessed with qualities of the sea and land?"

It takes you a moment to regain your voice, fear making it tremble as you carefully say, "Do you mean mermaids?"

"Correct, pet," He hums, "I see you're not completely hopeless."

You dig your nails into flat rock, voice tight as you ask, "What about the singing? You.. you made everyone jump. I didn't know mermaids could do that."

The siren looks wistful as tips his head back to face the sun. He closes his eyes with a small sigh, "Life becomes tedious when you stay in the same place for too long. I needed something new, so I left my brothers for colder water after hearing about these great big things that moved through the oceans there. Hm... I wonder if the ships have managed to reach them yet, it must be close to fifty humans years since I left."

You blink, shocked that the siren is well over twice your age. He looks young, definitely not a day older than you, but you suppose creatures like him must age at a different rate. Clearly the world is much different from what you first thought – slow aging is likely the least fantastical thing out there to discover.

"The ships lost their charm quickly," He adds, "But the humans on-board were fascinating. They called out to each other in melodies, both happy and sad as they sailed through my home. I was alone here at first, few of my kind dared to venture into colder climates, so the humans were all I had for company. It took me many human years to reshape my throat but I eventually learned to mimic their sounds. After that it was easy to learn the most common tongues that passed through my water."

"One day a ship of humans heard me singing and came looking for the source instead of passing me by – that was when I realized it was a wonderful way to lure you in. Your species have always been much too curious for your own good," The sun catches on the siren's teeth as he grins, highlighting the rows of fangs lining his mouth.

You shudder, stomach turning at how easily he speaks of the hundreds, if not thousands, of people he must have murdered over the years.

"Many moons passed and I grew tired of playing with my food. I found a sea witch – awfully slippery creatures – that gave me part of her magic, making it possible for me to enthrall humans from a greater distance. She was of great help, quite tasty too."

You can only stare at him in silence, lips pressed together tightly to hold back the acid burning at the back of your throat.

"I believe you humans created a name for me – to ward off others from crossing my path," He cocks his head, expectant, as he sends you a side-ways look.

"You're a siren," You whisper, pulling yourself back another inch.

"The one and only, pet," He purrs. "Though, I would prefer that you would utter my real name over something made up. Try saying Seokjin for me, little human."

You'd rather force your shoulder back into its socket a hundred times before complying to a monster's wishes, but it isn't exactly a request you can refuse.

So you grit your teeth, forcing out a stilted, "S-Seokjin."

Disgust curls deep in your stomach as the siren's tail once again quivers back and forth, seemingly pleased with your acquiescence.

You look across the lake at the unmoving mountain, mustering up the courage to ask the question that's been at the forefront of your mind ever since you woke up. "What happened to my crew?" You ask weakly, "Are any of them still alive?"

"No."

The answer comes easily, no hint of remorse or guilt in the siren's voice.

You can feel your nails ache and splinter against the rock as you scrape them across the surface, desperate for something to hold on to as you say, "Did you ... Did you eat them?"

"Of course. Do you expect me to starve?" Seokjin replies impassively, "You humans hunt your food too, I've seen how you use those rope contraptions to gather up fish."

You knew there was little chance of other survivors, but the confirmation still feels like a shock. Your vision swims, hot tears burning your eyes as unwelcome images of your crew – your captain – eaten by the very creature in front of you, flashes across your mind.

"We don't hunt other humans! Nothing this close to our own species!" You cry, voice rising with anger as grief twists itself around your heart. Your crew might not have been much, but they were still the closest thing you had to a family – a home.

Seokjin looks unmoved by your outburst, bored almost, as he says, "Pet, this is how the ocean works. Do you lecture fish when they eat their smaller brethren? Species do not matter. It's either kill or die here."

"Then why am I alive?" You ask, swallowing thickly around the lump in your throat.

The siren seems to perk up your question, scales glistening as he straightens up against the rock. He finally turns his head to face to you fully, his dark eyes sparkling with excitement. "See, little human, now you're finally asking the right thing. I find you fascinating – I haven't had a human pique my interest in many moons. I want to know how you managed to resist me for that long, why my thrall isn't as effective on you. What makes you so different from all the other humans that have jumped so willingly into my water?"

A foreboding sense of unease washes over you as Seokjin speaks, every muscle in your body tensing with fear. The siren wants to study you? The only way he can do that is to continue to use his thrall - his voice - and make you do things you do not want to do. He can force you to present your limbs for nibbling and you'll be none the wiser until it's too late.

"I don't know," You shake your head, "I-I didn't even know you existed until last night!"

"How disappointing," Seokjin clicks, the flicker of emotion on his face once again melting away to nothing. "Well then, pet, as expected, it seems you will be staying here until my curiosity is sated."

"What?" You clamber to your knees, gripping them tightly to keep yourself from doing something as humiliating as bowing – begging – the awful creature in front of you for an ounce of humanity that he clearly does not have.

"You can't do that, I can't stay here!"

"Then jump in the water and see how long you last," Seokjin once again flicks his strong tail, the harsh smack sending a tremble down your spine.

The siren's lips part into a something akin to a twisted smile, his blood speckled teeth making you sick as he hums, "Your thighs look delectable, little human, and I am quite prone to an early morning snack. So unless you want to watch as I eat you alive, you better stay put."

There's a minuscule quirk to his brows, a challenge, as he watches you absorb his words. Seokjin doesn't wait for you to give him an answer, your stunned silence more than enough for him. He doesn't spare you another glance as he pushes himself off the rock, effortlessly jumping back into the lake. It only takes a few seconds, a couple of strong flaps of his fin, before he disappears from view and his dark tail is nowhere to be seen.

You find yourself frozen to the spot, unable to move as you stare mindlessly at the spot Seokjin entered the water. The harsh ripples dancing over the surface is the only proof you have that you haven't lost your mind, that all of this is actually real.

Pressing your hands to your face, you finally allow your body to break, to mourn, as you release pained sobs into your palms. Everything hurts. Your body, your mind, your heart. You have no idea how you're going to escape to the mountain on the other side, and even if you do, then what? The siren can just use his song to lure you back down.

Seokjin has made the situation very clear. You can try to cross the lake and dive straight into your own grave, or you let him do what he wants. Either way – you fear it won't take long before the siren makes good on his promise.

You don't doubt it'll amuse him to make you watch as he tears you apart, piece by piece.

a/n: hello folks!! we are once again diving back into the TCS universe, only this time with seokjin as our lead mermaid! what do you think about him and his siren powers so far? this will likely only be a two part series, with more yandere behaviour and some smut in the final chapter, so if you enjoy the story so far please let me know! it’s really motivating to hear your thoughts and read your comments (and reblogs help a lot)!!

the final chapter will likely be posted in july if there’s enough interest for it 🧜‍♀️

in case you enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖

#yandere au #yandere bts #mermaid au #mermaid seokjin #yandere mermaid #mermaid bts #seokjin x reader #yandere seokjin #yandere x reader #bts au #seokjin au #bts fanfic

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itsthestutterforme · 4 months ago

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“Glad You Called” (Jack Reacher x black!reader)

Summary: Two years ago, Reacher left your home with nothing but a note left behind. What does he expect your reaction to be when he shows up at your door, saying you were in danger?

Notes; GIF is not mine, mistakes are my own, friends to lovers trope

The faint pattering of the rain on the tin roof of your outdoor garage was the only thing you could hear from the house.

You stared down at the unsaved numbers flooding your most recent call list. Reacher had been on your mind lately.

Which was kind of out of the norm because you hadn’t seen him in years. And you didn’t exactly end on the best of terms either.

He ghosted you. You woke up one random morning and noticed he was gone. A simple note was left behind:

“You’re perfect. You deserve better. I’m sorry.”

I suppose it was better than nothing, but barely.

He was in the Atlanta area and needed some place to crash. You were the first person that came to mind. He knew you were in Atlanta but had no idea which part.

He would have been searching for hours until he happened to walk by the coffee shop you frequented.

You were eating a piece of bacon avocado toast when you felt eyes on you. You looked up to see the mountain of a man known as Reacher, and that was the start of a very slippery slope.

One night turned in six months. Neither of you crossed that boundary but it was very noticeable that there was something romantic between the two of you.

There was something about the way the looked at you that desperately made you wish that you were a telepath.

That man had libraries worth of words in that brain of his and yet he chose to remain quiet every time.

The best part about it was while he was selective with words, his presence spoke volumes whenever he walked into a room.

Little did you know that what was going through his mind when he would look at you was one thing: marriage.

And that scares the hell out of him. He never crossed the line because he knew he would never go back.

That would be the end of it. His time of being a wandered would be over and he would be forever tied to you.

The domestic life would have taken him over, and it would have been completely voluntary. Because he wants to be there, with you.

He would have lived out his life as a husband and as a father. And he knew he wasn’t going to be ready for that, so he left.

Over the course of the six months of you living together, you expected to see him when you got home. He would ask you how was your day was while he cooked dinner for you.

You’ve gotten used to that. You’ve gotten used to him. And then he was gone.

The letter was all you had left of him for two years. And now there is an unsaved number calling you every day for the past week like clock work.

Speaking of, your phone rings once again. It was the same unsaved number, but this timed you answered.

“Hello?” you heard a deep sigh through the phone.

“Reacher,” you added, your palms growing slick.

“Y/N,” he starts, it was almost as if he wasn’t expecting you to answer.

“What, cat got your tongue?” you said unamused.

“You’re in danger Y/N. When can you get to New York City?”

“What makes you think I want you to protect me?”

“Y/N, we don’t have time for this. They threw Franz out of a helicopter after torturing him for information. I need to know that you are safe.” he says all in one breath.

“Franz?” you repeated.

He remained silent for a moment.

“God. I was at his wedding last year,” you said in disbelief.

“How soon can you get to New York?” he repeats.

“I can protect myself, Reacher. Goodbye.”

“Then I’m coming to you,” he says before ending the call. You stared at your phone with your mouth open in disbelief.

You had a feeling that would be a face you would be making often.

You already knew who it was from the solid knock reverberating through your house. However, it is better to be safe than sorry.

You had to admit that you’ve been on edge ever since Reacher called you. You only went out for the essentials and even then, those trips were kept minimal.

Taking your Beretta from your table, you check the chamber and clicked off the safety as you made your way towards the door. Opening the door, you had the barrel of the gun pressed against it.

Much to your surprise, it was not just Reacher at your front door. O’Donnel, Neagley and Dixon were standing behind him.

“I was hoping you weren’t serious,” you start.

“When have you ever known me to joke?”he retorts.

“There was a time that I knew you to have integrity. Obviously that has changed.” you said, clicking the safety back on.

You walked back inside and tucked your gun under your waist band. Reacher took that as an invitation to enter and the rest of the group followed.

Reacher couldn’t help but look around the familiar house. You still liked to keep the house smelling of citrus with a dash of honey.

He loved the smell. It reminded him of Christmas. Reminded him of home. He almost ran into you when you stopped to turn around.

Your glossed over eyes met his and while your gaze remained on his face, his explored every detail.

Your voluminous, curly hair just barely touched your shoulders. Your favorite crop top and sweatpants outfit you wore more often than not. Your fuzzy Crocs that he initially hated but he grew to love.

He grew to love you.

O’Donnel and Neagley shared a look at how cold you were being towards Reacher.

Of course they didn’t know about what happened between you before. So as far as they were concerned, it was unwarranted.

“You guys didn’t need to come all the way over here. Like I told Reacher, I can handle myself.” You explained, breaking the silence.

“I’m sure Franz thought the same thing,” Neagley starts.

“We’re not losing anyone else. And I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but you’re just going to suck it up for the time being.” Reacher stampedes.

“If you somehow think you can just burst into my home and my life, and stick your chest out while you give orders. You’re insane. But if you really expect me to listen, you can fuck off.” You snark, crossing your game and narrowing your eyes at him.

“Okay, obviously we missed a few chapters.” O’Donnel voiced.

The group looked between you and Reacher for a moment until Dixon spoke up, “Whatever bad blood you two have, set it aside. I can guarantee you, it’s not worth your lives.”

“Yeah, we started coming up with a plan of action but it didn’t really get anywhere because Reacher was adamant about getting in touch with you. So now that we’re all together where can we start?” O’Donell facilitates.

“What do we have so far?” you questioned, giving Reacher one last pointed look before sitting down.

Should I make a part 2? 🤔

#black!reader #jack reacher x black!reader #jack reacher x reader

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and-so-he-rambled · 6 months ago

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Gotham Rogue Vlad Masters Part three - The Library

Master list | Part 1 | Part 4

The sun didn’t really shine in Gotham, but the kids soaked up the meager bit peeking through the clouds. Vlad had a child on each side, hands held tightly as they walked. Vlad had memorized the maps as much as he could, having never found the place he was looking for on foot before. It was much easier to fly, but the kids needed the exercise and the practice to blend in.

Jazz was doing wonderfully, expression guarded and dangerous. He’d insisted she left the thievery to him, but he watched her slide a wallet into her pocket after brushing against a passing stranger. It made a twisted part of him proud.

Daniel on the other hard was doing terribly, unable to hide his joy and waving at everyone they passed by. He stood out, tugging on Vlad’s hand and trying to run off at every pigeon and rat he saw scurrying by. Vlad tried to squeeze his hand in warning, but Daniel just squeezed it back and let out a happy chirp. His breath was coming out misty even in the mild weather, making Vlad second guess himself on bringing him out. Daniel was still developing and had lots of ghost mishaps, but he was getting fed up with being cooped up all the time. Vlad had a feeling that if he didn’t bring Daniel outside already he would have just phased through the wall and gone on his own adventure.

The finally reached the library, a grand and towering old building. He held the kids hands tightly as they walked inside, bypassing the help desk and trying to seem like they belonged there. He mapped out the exits and cameras sparsely places along the ceilings. There would definitely be eyes on the computer area, but shouldn’t be as many in the children’s section. He hated the kids being on camera at all, but with Daniel’s thick winter hat and a scarf covering Jas’s lower face he hoped they would be safe. He knew the picture around Danny and Jazz would likely be fuzzy since they didn’t know how to repress their abilities like he did. Hopefully no one would look close enough to notice. He concentrated his aura around his face to keep his blurry as well, but just a little.

He squatted down to eye level with the kids once they were mostly out of view.

“Jazz, watch Daniel.” He hated to put all the responsibility on her shoulders, but they both knew the boy would run off. “Get a book for yourself too, we can sneak out a few when he leave. We’ll bring them back once we read them.” He assured Danny with the last part, ruffling the kid’s hair.

“Can I read about the stars?” Danny asked with wide eyes, green swirling in blue.

“Sure thing, Daniel.”

“Danny!” The raven haired boy stomped his foot, pouting something fierce. He was rather insistent on the nickname. Vlad preferred Daniel, but he would relent to let the child have some normality in his life with all the big changes.

“Ah, yes. Danny.” He sent the two off, trusting Jazz to keep them both safe as he found the computers.

The more he learned about Gotham the stranger it became. He knew crime ran rampant in the city, but this was beyond what he’d imagined. He could use this to his advantage.

He still had less than reputable contacts from when he’d just started committing crimes to start up his own company, and it’s wouldn’t be hard to get back into old habits. He would need to keep Plasmius a secret though, too noticeable as a ghost. He couldn’t rock the GIW sniffing around, so he had to do this the old fashioned way. He’s still use his powers of course, but subtly. It wasn’t as if metas didn’t exist, even if the bat didn’t want them in his city.

He was researching the art scene of Gotham when his pocket buzzed, the rudimentary device in his pocket getting an sos from Jazz.

He stood, trying to keep himself from panicking as he searched for his charges. He could feel them in the building still, his core latching on to the echo of Daniel’s core and Jazz’s ectoplasm.

He rounded a corner, shoulders sagging in relief once he saw both kids unharmed. They were in what seemed to be the children’s reading nook, with cartoon animals painted on the walls and beanbags instead of chairs.

Daniel was in a lady’s lap, a book open as he pointed and explained what stars were to her. The woman was in a wheelchair, eyebrows raised a confused smile on her face. She was a redhead, a much fiercer red than Maddie and Jazz’s orange.

“Dad!” Jazz yelled loudly as he approached, making his core burn hot in his chest. He managed to keep his stride unbroken, hiding his flinch with a smile.

“Jasmine! Find anything good to read?” He greeted her cheerily, letting her grab his hand. She squeezed out an sos, smile strained. Her eyes were pure ice as she stared down the lady holding her brother, not an ounce of trust.

“Not much, Danny was just telling Ms. Barbara all about space.” Jazz’s eyes were pleading as they turned to him, palm sweaty and shaking against his.

“I’m so sorry about him.” Vlad apologized, slipping into fake cheer like a second skin. The galas he’d attended when his company was starting out had been full of people he had to lie to. It had been a big change from being a college geek with no social life, but Vlad Masters did nothing if not persist.

He plucked the boy from the lady’s lap, holding him tight as Danny whined and squirmed, bony limbs flailing.

“Vlaaaaad.” Danny whined, chirping angrily as Vlad stiffened. He was glad humans couldn’t hear ghost speak.

Jazz laughed awkwardly, elbowing Danny’s dangling leg.

“That speech impediment of yours, still can’t pronounce dad.” Her lie wasn’t as smooth as his, smile tight and a tad too sharp.

“Was just telling ‘er about stars and planets. I can’t read the words yet so I needed help.”

“Why couldn’t you ask your sister?”

Danny shook his head, black mop of hair falling in his eyes.

“She was reading her own book.”

Jazz looked at the floor in shame. A book way thicker than most six year olds could read was on the beanbag.

“I see. Well, say goodbye to the nice lady.” He gave Barbara a fake smile, tugging Jazz’s hand.

Ms. Barbara looked confused, holding up the book on stars Daniel had been showing her.

“Your books, would you like me to help you check them out?” She held out the big book of space Danny had been showing her, the boy beginning to squirm and reach for it. She wasn’t aware that they didn’t exist yet, and thus couldn’t check out books.

“We’ll come back another day!” He assured her, already walking out with the kids. Daniel was whining something fierce and Jazz looked miserable, not the outing he wanted.

He ducked into an alley and flew them back to the home base. They needed the exercise but Daniel was struggling he didn’t want to eyes on them, so flying back was easier.

Danny was crying, shaking as he tried to hold in a tantrum.

Jazz hadn’t met his eyes since they left the library.

“Jazz, dear. You alerted me in time. He didn’t say anything that could give us away, did he?” Vlad was pretty sure that, if it came to it to protect the kids, he would kill a bystander.

Jazz shook her head, teary blue eyes meeting his.

“No, just talked about space. I didn’t hear her until Danny was already in her lap! What if she took him! Stupid! Stupid!” The redhead slammed her fists against her head, chest heaving as tears escaped her tightly shut eyes and cascaded down her red cheeks.

Vlad grabbed her wrists, holding them still as she squirmed and fought him before collapsing into his arms in a fit of tears. He hadn’t seen her cry since her parents deaths, always only hearing it faintly at night.

Jazz sobbed in his arms, her tears spurning Danny to start sobbing as well. Vlad ached down to the core, gathering both kids in his arms and kneeling on the floor with them until his legs were numb. He felt his own eyes traitorously burn, perhaps from the sadness of his fraid effecting him, or just stress creeping up. He forced it away with hard blinks, he didn’t have time for that.

He really had no idea what he was doing, but he had to keep doing it because this was the only way to keep the kids safe. They couldn’t have normal lives, he had to remember that. They were monsters to the government, the kids wouldn’t be safe in the system with a good family, there were stuck with him.

They cried themselves out, both sagged against him and dozing with the occasional hiccup. It was easy to carry them both to bed, almost natural. He wondered if, in another life, he could have had a family of his own. It was for the best he hadn’t thought, that he’d been able to let go of his life to keep the kids safe. He barely found himself missing the castle he’d loved so much, so focused on the fact they were alive, mostly. He’d grieve it more later, the place in the world he’d made his own after years of hospitals and clawing his way up in life, but for now it was enough to be safe.

He tucked the kids in to the king bed they’d claimed, body aching in new ways as he dragged a chair over. He could keep a double for a while, but he didn’t trust a double to stand watch, so he prepared himself for another long night. He knew he needed sleep desperately, but he couldn’t risk it. Instead he sent a copy to the library to steal the books the kids had been reading along with a few books for himself.

He managed to read through a book on parenting traumatized children by light of ecto blast before the sun rose, hiding it in the wall with the other books he’d chosen so Jazz wouldn’t read them and try to be more grown up than she had to be. She’d taken on a parental role with Danny and he was forced to let her even though every book he read said it was bad for her development. He wanted her to be a kid, but he needed her help to keep Danny safe and out of trouble.

He was going to have to start stealing again soon, and that meant Jazz would have to step up even more to watch Danny while he was gone. He could go at night while they slept, but then they would be unguarded. It was quite the dilemma. But still, Vlad Masters persists. He’d once been a lab rat building new equipment on a diet of energy drinks and ramen, he could manage to make a security system to keep two kids safe.

He made a plan to go dump hunting, he could maybe bring the kids along if he scouted it out first. He would steal a proper laptop and fancy tech once he was better prepared, but they would make do with scraps right now.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #danny masters #jazz fenton #vlad masters redemption #vlad redemption #Vlad Masters #vlad plasmius #dp x dc #dp #dpxdc #bruce wayne x vlad masters #dad vlad #Gotham rogue Vlad Masters

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addicted-to-dc · 6 months ago

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Jekyll/Hyde - Taskforce 141 x Reader

Okay, didn't like the first fic I wrote so here's this one instead lmao. Still figuring out team dynamics... but I can't wait to explore moreeee.

Tags for those who encouraged me to write this. Thank you!!! @greeniegreengreen @aeilani @poetslastdeath (Thanks for the writing prompt!! Imma go crazier with it soon)

Content Warnings: Typical CoD violence, ptsd, reader is going to be unhinged (even more so in the next chapters).

“She’s not a good fit.” You were waiting for the line; another iteration of the same denial you’ve encountered everywhere you go. “It’s all solo work, can she even work with a team?”

Your throat burns at the statement. Despite the stabbing pain with each demeaning sentence, you can’t help but continue eavesdropping. Your file has lies written on nearly every page, all the ‘solo missions’ redacted and sealed so tightly even you couldn’t read them.

“John.”

Laswell is too kind to you, too stubborn, somehow seeing right through your heavily defended psyche. Playing matchmaker with the 141 is a mistake. These men don’t need you. You’re disposable, belonging nowhere yet everywhere. They already have a psychotic on the team, the position has been filled since the damned taskforce was created.

“Ignore the files, look at her.” The fucking PowerPoint. It’s like you’re a mutt she’s trying to adopt off. As if a photo of you would convince them to accept. You’re a liability. It won’t be long until you’re sent off on another suicide mission, doomed to survive and repeat the process over again. Laswell sighs. “She’s never been assigned a solo mission.”

“Lone survivor?” Says a new voice. The Scottish accent tells you it’s one of the sergeants, Mr. Mohawk. “Sounds familiar, eh, Ghost?”

There’s no response, a barely discernable grunt takes the place of an answer. Then this ‘Ghost’ speaks: “Jekyll and Hyde?”

“She’s a completely different person on the field. Jekyll specializes in intelligence, sabotage, and infiltration. A screw loose, yes, but Hyde…” You don’t belong here. They know it. You know it. It seems like Laswell is the only one out of the loop, but you will never doubt her stubbornness. Your stomach drops. “Hyde is unstoppable. She flips that switch… you have a wildcard that will turn the tide.”

Maybe you should just leave. Maybe you should take up Graves’ offer. He’d gladly take you, but you’re not sure what’s holding you back from finally pulling the trigger… you should really work on your wording.

“She’s survived alone for so long; she needs a team that can survive WITH her.”

You eye the window, admiring the view of the forested area that claims most of the land. This building is commercial, an office building repurposed for government use… and it seems they forgot to lock the window. It slides open with ease, and the 2-story drop is nothing. You’ve fallen from deadlier heights.

“JEKYLL!” You don’t bother turning around, Laswell’s voice ushering you to make a break for it into the forest.

Turning around, you salute them, sarcastically of course, and bolt into the forest as the group rips their own window open. Serves them right for talking shit when you can clearly hear everything. Your eyes flick around, spotting a sturdy enough tree to climb up. The forest is old, old enough to be your perfect personal playground. It’s been a while since you’ve been in one. It screams “HOME!” in your brain, but you shove that thought down. That home is across the world, your claim etched into the tops of the trees.

It’s not difficult to climb into a spot, it’s nearly as easy as breathing. The ambience of the forest is enough to take away the pain in your chest, the wind grounding you with its bite. Sighing, you slump against the bark and look upwards. The clouds look extra poofy today. A great contrast against the bright blue sky.

You close your eyes. It’s as if you’re there, survival being the only goal in your mind. Nothing weighing you down…

“Jekyll!”

You look down, disappointed that they found you already. War never changes and peace never lasts, including your own. Captain John Price glowers at you from below. You’re starting to feel a bit better, especially since this perspective is too damn hilarious. What a little, angry dude.

Ignoring the man, you slowly move from branch to branch. Running won’t solve anything, they chased you for a reason. Laswell did this on purpose. The revelation makes you freeze. Scowling, you whip around to face the men. “Look, I don’t appreciate Laswell meddling with my shit either, but mention anything about my teams again and I’ll cut your fucking tongues out.”

“Fair.”

Your eyes flick to Ghost, the darkest thing in the forest. It’s almost as if darkness clings to him. You could easily disappear, this forest is vast, yes, but it would be a walk in the park to a nearby town compared to your previous unsavory experiences. You know this, but it seems Ghost knows too. He’s tense, watching you closely for any tells. It’s funny, you’re doing the same thing. Great minds think alike.

“How’d you like the PowerPoint?” you lean against a branch, scratching a scar on your chin. “Was it the maroon or grey themed one?”

Silence, but then an answer from one of the sergeants, Mr. Mohawk. “Grey.”

You frown, allowing yourself to swing to a lower branch. “Funny, she said she changed it. Liar.”

“Laswell a liar?”

“All of you are liars,” you immediately throw back, sizing up all the men. “To others… to yourselves.”

“And you’re not a liar?” The other sergeant asks. Curious man, a seeker of truth. His determination is difficult to ignore, a sense of justice that could rival yours. Good. There’s not many left in this world. He shall henceforth be Sunshine.

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Lies kill in our line of business, even the small ones, Sergeant. Not my weapon of choice. Now, are you rejecting me or not?”

“No.”

Now that’s interesting. You descend a few more branches. “Why?”

“The PowerPoint.”

You scoff, landing softly onto the forest floor. It takes only a few steps to close the distance. Hesitance invades your mind. This group will be different. You’ll just have to place your trust in Laswell and her mysterious ways. “Next mission?”

“Not much to go on, we’re waiting on Laswell for intel.”

Nodding, you glance at the team. “You going to bother introducing yourselves? Don’t bother, big boy, I already know who you are.”

Ghost looks like a challenge, very throwable. Maybe you’ll get a chance in the field. The Sergeants exchange glances. Aren’t they cute.

“Too late, you’re Mr. Mohawk and Sunshine now,” you state, adjusting your vest and walking away. “Give me 24 hours, Price.”

And with that, you leave the men alone to focus on your favorite task… digging for intel.

“Jekyll.”

You halt in your steps, turning around. “Yes, Captain?”

He steps forward. “You’re 141, we work as a team. You haven’t lost us yet.”

The pain returns, the ringing in your ears reaching a crescendo despite the forest’s calming aura. Blood, so much blood, gasps for breath and- Your jaw tightens, any more pressure and you’re sure you’ll shatter them. “Conference room 2.”

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Thanks for reading! I really want to you (the reader lol) to pitch in and decide where to go! I think a little choose your own adventure would be cool. I'll start it up within the next chapter or two. I'm so exciteddd to write again. I hope my writing muscles aren't too decayed XD

If anyone has suggestions, do not hesitate to comment! I need more unhinged mutuals on here pls

#taskforce 141 x reader #cod x reader #captain john price x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader

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kokoa-la · 1 year ago

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Prompt from @masked-kitsune

Sent to me by anonymous lol

Part 1, part 2

This was absolutely absurd. While Danny did have a history of breaking beakers on accident and was also banned from his chemistry lab back in Casper high, he’d never made a whole lab blow up. The accusation was so unfitting. The halfa would label himself as simply misunderstood, it’s not his fault he has bad luck? You break a couple beakers and drop a few modern day potions and all of a sudden you’re suspected of the crime of exploding your school chem lab with no trial and the punishment of detention for the whole year. He was wronged, framed even.

Danny, of course, was musing this all to himself in the detention room after school. He hadn’t managed to plead his case well enough. Gotham Academy was filled to the brim with money and nepotism, there was no way they’d believe the orphan on a Wayne scholarship. This had to be illegal (like him) or something. They didn’t even have any proof!

…

They didn’t have any proof. Oh Danny was getting a bad/wonderful/fun idea. He had to clear his name, obviously, he hated being blamed for things he didn’t do. If he just found evidence that it was someone else and not him, then it’d be fine.

He couldn’t prove he wasn’t there. He had been out doing ghost stuff, as Phantom. What was he supposed to do? Go ghost and scare the bejeebus out of everyone there? Admit he’s a meta? (Being dead is a medical condition!) That’d worsen his sentence. Now he’s a charity case and a weirdo with powers! He didn’t need any more of being called a creepy boy with creepy powers thank you very much.

Still, them not knowing he had powers was a blessing in disguise. The detention room door was locked until the two hours ran out, but the walls weren’t ghost proof, and neither was the ceiling- or anything of the room really. He’s pretty sure everyone in Gotham is somewhat superstitious, but they don’t really believe in ghosts. Danny knows because telling people his parents are ghost hunters in any place other than Amity went south very quickly.

That settled it then. He’d use his powers to investigate the lab he is hereby banned from for the rest of his life, and find proof he’s innocent. Perfect plan.

After a month he had gathered a substantial amount of clues that quite literally had no connection to each other. Getting into the cameras of the lab and the hallways around it wasn’t viable. He couldn’t hack into anything for the life of him and anytime he tried using any of his abilities on other cameras he just fried em. He’s sure with enough practice he could figure something out, but he didn’t know how long that’d take, no matter how fast he was at learning new abilities. Plus, a lot of then were already broken. Some areas were blacked out and finding out whether the cameras in that hallways worked or not was a problem on its own.

He went over the events of that day once more. He had felt a ghost in the area, and having not interacted with one since he got to Gotham (sans Red Hood but he didn’t count) he quickly left to go and figure it out. He had gone to the bathroom in the science wing that just happened to be across from the chemistry lab. He goes ghost, leaves, finds literally no one, not even getting a chill, returns, and the lab is gone. He’s found at the scene by a teacher who had heard the explosion and saw him at the scene, immediately dragging him to the principal's office.

He knew he didn’t do it, even accidentally! He hadn’t touched the room at all, walking straight past it into the bathroom. He knew it looked bad. Of course it did, but he was innocent, and wasn’t too keen on staying after school for 2 hours every day for the whole year.

The problem was if it was a ghost problem, but he knew it wasn’t. It couldn’t have been because the feeling of the lab afterwards (because he checked thoroughly) was lacking any ecto-energy at all. That meant it was a student or a person who went there, and when Danny found em he’d have a couple more than a few words for the guy.

The halfa grumbled in his seat as he got yet another lecture. He’s been getting them every day without fail since the incident, at this point it was getting tiring. Ten minutes wasted listening to the English teacher bore on and on about the consequences of his actions and so on so forth, but this time was different. Mr. Lanch had stopped after five minutes when a knock came on the door. In strolled in Mr.Laner , with a boy. A boy who looked strikingly familiar to Danny. Black hair with a middle part, blue eyes, pale skin, lean figure, in his grade maybe?

“Mr.Lanch this is Timothy Drake Wayne, he will be joining you for the next two months every day.”

“I see. Well, Mr.Drake, take a seat, choose any they’re all open but one.”

Danny was seated in the back corner, Tim sat in the corner on the other side of the room, also in the back. Mr.Laner gave Danny a dirty look before leaving. Mr.Laner was the chemistry teacher, and he had made it his personal mission to be as cruel and petty as possible to Danny because of what happened- which wasn’t even his fault! When he cleared his name he wanted a full apology, seriously.

And then there was Tim! He knew him, of course he did, the dude was the son of the guy who gave him his scholarship. He couldn’t even think about breathing in his direction, let alone sharing a room with him every day for the next two months alone. When Mr.Lanch had finished and left the room, locking the door behind him, Danny crumpled under the awkward atmosphere. Neither of them were saying anything- at all. Danny couldn’t even hear the other breathe. It was eating away at him, he had to say something, but what?

“What are you in for?”

That? That was his choice? Well it was a valid question considering they were in detention.

“A fight.”

“You got in a fight?”

“No, I beat someone else senseless. He called it a fight to save his ego.”

Danny couldn’t stop the snort that escaped him.

“Deserved it?”

“Oh definitely.”

What he’d give to go back to Casper High and just beat the ever loving crap out of Dash. Stupid secret identities, making him be weak and get his ass kicked every day by a dumbass with good genes and blond hair.

“What are you in for?”

And now Danny was being questioned. He sighed.

“I was framed, framed I tell ya!”

“Uh-huh, that’s what they all say. What were you ‘framed’ for?”

Tim had used his fingers to put up air quotes along the word framed. Danny didn’t appreciate it. He was a truthful ghost- for the most part. He wasn’t lying!

“The explosion in the chem lab.”

“That was you?!”

Tim nearly hopped out of his seat. His head coming up from his fist that he laid it against. Gone was his relaxed posture of pure boredom and exhaustion.

“No it wasn’t! I just said I was framed!”

“But you’re so-”

“So what?”

What was this kid even getting at? Did Danny look weird? Look unable to explode shit? Cus he was able!

“So-”

“Are you saying I’m incapable looking? That I can’t blow something up?”

“Well no-”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Okay- you look harmless?”

“That’s rude.”

“I thought you wanted to look innocent.”

“Cuz I am!”

“Uh huh, and I didn’t beat Andy bloody.”

“Andy? Anderson? The guy with diamonds on his teeth?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me, they look so bad.”

Tim groaned before covering his head with his hands. Unpleasant memories, Danny assumed. Still, must have been nice to punch the guy. He was obnoxious and rude and always rubbing his money in Danny’s face. More than once he’s had to stop himself from strangling the kid. Another joy in his life robbed because he was a ghost. Such a shame, truly.

Danny laughed before slouching in his seat. How was he supposed to leave the room and investigate with Tim here? He banged his head against the desk.

"You okay?"

"Yeah yeah all good"

His voice was muffled from it being squashed against the desk, but the other heard him all the same. Danny practically whined before getting up out his seat, the metal screeching loudly against the floor. He walked over towards the desk in the front of the room and shuffled around the drawers.

"What are you doing?"

He ignored his detention buddy and focused on rummaging around the drawer for a paper clip. When he found one he undid it and bent it near the edge, giving it a ridge.

"Hey!"

Tim, being ignored once again, got up from his own seat and walked over.

Danny had kneeled at the door and jammed the paperclip into the lock, digging it in and jiggling it, waiting for a click. Has he ever done this before? No, but he's seen Sam do it to just about every lock they've ever encountered so he assumed it'd be easy enough to figure out.

He was incorrect.

"You're doing it wrong."

He almost wanted to go "no shit, sherlock" to Tim, but decided against it.

"You know how to pick locks?"

"Obviously. Hand it over."

Danny shrugged his shoulders before handing over the paper clip and stepping away from the door. Tim rolled his eyes before taking the clip and putting it back in the lock, this time angling it up, pulling it back and forth and then twisting it. After a couple of seconds the door resounded with a click and Tim got up and opened the door. He smirked and leaned against the door.

"Still going to ignore me?"

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #timothy drake #timothy drake wayne #tim drake #red robin #gotham academy #anderson deserved it #danny was framed framed i tell u #all this time to finish that english paper only to investigate the lab instead #wdym u made ur friends normally? is committing crimes together not how its normally done?#justice for danny #tim deserves it but justice for him too #paperclips make good lock picks

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pileofboneswrites · 4 months ago

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IN THE WIND_oneshot.yellowstone

SUMMARY — loosely inspired by the song cheyenne by ian munsick. every year he never asks anything from you, resigned to the routine you've created; you pull into the yellowstone, park your trailer, and spend all your time with him, and then when august rolls around you pack it all in, and leave. this year, instead of dancing around the heartache, he [and a few others] ask you to stay.

PAIRING — fem!reader x lee dutton

WORD COUNT — 4.1k

WARNINGS — established friends with benefits type relationship, lee has been in love with reader since they met, pinning, allusions to smut, lee watches reader get dressed – reader puts on a show, no use of y/n — everyone calls her honey as a nickname, mentions of heartbreak, mentions of murder (not overly graphic), mentions of past abuse, angst

you put your truck in park, tucked along the side of the house like you always do. you open the trailer up, lead you horse peaches out into the fenced off area out front, and then wander up the front steps and into the house. you kick off your boots, and pad through the hallway, taking in the view from the living room windows. you enter the open concept kitchen, grabbing a beer and setting to work on tidying up. you start with the dishes, there aren't as many as there were last time.

next, you sweep, the build up of dirt he's tracked into the house has you frowning. after, you throw laundry in — your own clothes first of course. next is vacuuming, followed by grabbing the load of groceries from your cold box in your truck. lastly, you step into the shower, watching the setting sun as you deep condition your hair and shave your legs. when you wrap yourself in your towel you hear the front door open, a pair of boots falling heavily on the hardwood floor.

"honey," lee breathes out, a wide smile on his face as he steps into the warm room, and enveloping you in his arms, his lips latching onto your own.

"hi," you giggle, through pecks to your lips, followed by him slipping his tongue into your mouth.

you allow it for a few moments, relishing in his closeness. you untangle yourself from him, making him frown cutely at you. you give him a teasing smile, and peck him on the lips once more.

"i just swept, and washed those floors of yours, lee dutton. i'm not impressed," you slip past him in your bath towel, tsking at him as you go.

"i'm sorry honey, allow me to make it up to you," he says, a devious smile on his lips, as he follows you into his bedroom.

he catches you by the end of the bed, arms circling your waist as he pulls you flush with his chest. you look up at him throughout your eye lashes, and he bites his lip looking down into your eyes. he dips his head, resting his forehead on your shoulders, his lips ghosting over your collarbone. you want so badly to give in, but you have plans tonight.

"sorry cowboy," you murmur, pushing him away, turning towards his closet—where you keep a sizable amount of your clothes. "you need to shower, and get dressed."

"dressed? for what?" he groans dropping onto the end of the bed, slipping off his boots.

"the carnival? you promised tate last summer we'd be there to ride on the rollercoaster with him?" you say, glancing at him over your shoulder.

"you remember that?" he asks, rasing an eyebrow at you.

you giggle, dropping your towel to put on your underwear. lee moans quietly at the view of your naked body. you slowly pull them up, bending over to give him a full view of your bum. he sucks in a sharp breath, eyes never leaving your skin as you tease him.

you nod, "i do, and he's only text me about it everyday since – so y'know, it'd be hard to forget."

"yeah..." he agrees with you absentmindedly, eyes clinging to your chest as you twist your bra around your chest pulling it up. "hard to– hard to forget."

you make a show of putting your arms through the straps, and pulling the cups up. lee hangs off your every move, his fascination with your body not ending even with your boobs covered. his eyes rake up and down your figure, his eyes dark, and his bottom lip betweeen his teeth as he works through something silently. you feel smug with satisfaction as you step closer, slinging one leg over either side of his hips. you sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, bringing his attention back up to your face.

"baby," you whisper, lips ghosting over his.

"mhmm," he hums, hands landing on your hips.

"you promised,"

he nods, "i did,"

"but?"

his grip on your hips tightens, briefly, then retract.

"nothing, honey, i can wait." he leans in closer to your ear, "but tonight, i'm not going to be able to stop myself."

a shiver goes up your spine, goosebumps exploding over your arms. you missed that. he easily lifts you off his lap, setting you beside him. he stands, heading into the bathroom to shower, the door clicking closed calmly behind him. you sit there, surprised by his show of restraint. he doesn't normally do that, normally he would have had your face pressed into the mattress in a seconds notice. after taking a second to collect yourself, you stand up, and walk back over to the closet.

you pick out a dark green summer dress, a pair of brown cowboy boots in better shape than the ones you'd worn here. you grab a cardigan, and a cowboy hat that matches your boots. you then go back into the kitchen, and grab your cellphone from where you'd left it charging. two missed messages from monica dutton long.

hi aunt honey it's tate! excited to see you and uncle lee tonight rollercoster here we come!

hey, it's monica, just wanted to let you and lee know we'll be by the ticket booth. tate's very excited, see you at 9.

ten minutes pass, and lee is walking down the hallway. he's wearing a button that coincidentally matches your dress, his good hat and his best boots. he looks refreshed, the stress of the day washed away, and a easy smile on his face.

"well don't you look handsome," you smile, stepping into his embrace.

he kisses you deeply, your knees go weak, his arm sliding around your back steadying you. he smirks into your lips, and you pull back rolling your eyes playfully at him. you forgot how much you enjoyed being here, being with him.

"honey, you are the most beautiful woman i have ever met; dressed up like this, or covered in sweat and dirt from a long day."

your heartaches at his confession; it's temporary, you'll be gone again come the end of august. then the cycle continues. you smile, enjoy it now. lee's always been your favourite, it's why you keep coming back. he always knows what to say to make your knees weak, and how to break your heart.

"we'd better go," you say, ignoring the disappointment in his eyes as you walk away.

you're always walking away.

"i had so much fun!" tate yells, hoisting the matching bear to yours over his head.

"and now he's going to take forever to get to sleep tonight," monica laughs, "thanks for the sugar rush, aunt honey."

"pshhh, he'll crash the minute you get him in the truck." you reply, "and no problem, i live for these moments,"

"it was good seeing you, honey." monica says, pulling you into a hug.

"you too mon, we need to get coffee before i leave." you tell her, giving her a light squeeze.

"why don't you stay?" she asks, watching as tate makes a beeline for the truck, climbing into the backseat as kayce follows behind him, chatting with lee.

"i can't," you can't tear your eyes away from lee's back as he talks with his youngest sibling, which doesn't go unnoticed by his sister-in-law.

"why not? you and lee act like a married couple and besides; you're perfect for each other." her tone is gentle, like she's talking to an easily spooked animal.

"because..." you debate telling her the truth, the real reason you run every year, and your heart wins out over your rational thinking. "i know that he'll always be there this way, i don't think he'd want me if he had me fulltime."

"how could you possibly think that? lee looks at you like you personally hung the moon, sun and stars. he's so in love with you," she says, smiling softly at you. "you have to know that by now. he turns into a completely different person when you're gone."

"i know he is, i see it in the way he looks at me. i just– i'm terrified of ruining what we have. i'm not an easy person to love, i've been told that my whole life; i'm impulsive, stubborn, bossy, rude, selfish.... he doesn't deserve someone like that. he deserves someone who's sweet, and kind, and... good." you say, "someone like him."

"i don't know... the way you describe yourself; that's not the person i see. i see someone so full of love, and life, someone that helps others no matter what, honey, i've literally seen you give someone the shirt off your back. whoever's pumped your head full of that hate, was trying to convince you you're evil, when you're not. you're none of those things."

"i appreciate that, i'm not sure you're entirely right, but thank you." you shoot her a half smile, and squeeze her shoulder before you break away, walking towards lee's truck.

he meets you halfway, entwining your fingers, and pulling you closer.

he smiles at you, "that was fun,"

"i knew you'd have a good time,"

"thank you for making me come tonight,"

"thank you for winning me a big ass teddy bear," you reply, holding the giant black bear. "i love him, and i'm going to call him dusty,"

"dusty, eh?" he qestions, pulling your door open for you.

"do you have any better ideas?" you quiry, sliding into your seat.

he leans against the passenger door, his head tilted to the side as he thinks. after a few seconds he shakes his head, ducking down to kiss you once. twice. three times before closing the door and walking around to the drivers side.

"wanna grab a pizza on the way?" he asks, and you nod excitedly. "barneys?"

"barneys!" you say it at the same time, and he laughs, patting your left thigh.

three weeks later, you're sitting in one of the muskoka chairs up by the main house, a blanket over your legs as you and tate roast marshmallows.

"yours is burning!" tate says, pointing to your marshmallow.

"i love them burnt!" you reply, watching as it catches fire.

"that's weird," tate makes a face, "burnt ones are gross,"

"nuh-huh, they're the best!"

"no! golden ones are!"

"ewwww," comes lee's voice from behind the two of you, "marshmallows? gross!"

"i agree with you there," kayce says, from his chair across the fire pit.

"i second it, too sweet." john adds from beside kacey, and tate looks shocked.

"grandpa! you don't like marshmallows?"

john shakes his head, a disgusted look on his face.

"that's devastating," tate says, and monica lets out a snort of laughter.

"who taught you that word?" she asks, trying to keep a straight face as he stares her down.

"aunt honey, she says it a lot." tate shrugs, turning back to the fire.

monica gives you a quizzical look, as lee sits down beside you, between your chair and hers on your right side. so i don't say fuck in front of your kid, you mouth at her, and she nods in understanding.

"cause i'm trying not to corrupt you," you add, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to give him a quick hug.

"yeah, besides, his dad does a good enough job on his own." lee chuckles making kayce roll his eyes, and flip his brother off while tate's looking away.

"how long are you down for now?" john asks, when the conversation dies down.

your eyes snap to lee, who's looking staight ahead into the darkness. monica and kayce exchange a look before they both take turns glancing at you, and lee.

"uh, 'm not sure just yet," you say awkwardly, your shoulders tensing automatically.

you feel like a dear caught in the headlights. john nods, his attention being stolen by rip who materializes next to him. feeling like john just smacked you, you excuse yourself, wrapping your blanket around your shoulders, and making your way to lee's house. you sit out on the steps, thinking about what you were doing. i'm not good for lee. staying would be a mistake, it would ruin what we have. then i'd be all alone again. you're not sure how long you'd been sat alone, staring off into the dark when you hear lee's boots crunching gravel.

"you okay?" you ask him, and his eyebrows pull together in confusion.

"i'm fine, are you, okay?"

you force yourself to nod, "of course,"

he reaches out for your hand, and you immediately give it to him, allowing him to guide you up into the house. you shed your uggs, blanket, jacket, sweatpants and sweater, when you enter his bedroom. you crawl into bed, pulling the blankets up and waiting for him to crawl in next to you. he does, turning the lights off, and shimmying close to you. you rest your head on his chest, and even after you hear his soft snoring, you can't fall alseep. you lay there, eyes closed trying to sleep, but then the first ray of light speaks into the room.

before you know it, it's six am, and lee's softly shifting you over so he can go shower. you stare up at the ceiling, unmoving. the room is still dark, and when he steps out of the bathroom, towel around his hips, and his hair dripping wet. you pretend to be sleeping when he leans over the bed to give your temple a quick kiss, before he heads down to the bunkhouse. you lie there, staring up at the ceiling, your mind racing. you met lee at a bar in town when you were eighteen, you'd been passing through, on your way to your next race, when he'd caught your eye.

you ended up spending the month curled up in his sheets, praying that it would never end. but like all good things in your life, it did. you'd had a blow out fight about something ridiculous, and after he fell asleep that night you left. you found yourself passing through the following summer, part of you praying you'd see him again. and you did. he sat perched on a bar stool, chatting with rip and two other hands from the ranch. rip saw you first, a knowing smile on his lips, then the other two—who you later came to know as colby and ryan—their conversation fizzled out quickly.

lee had stood, ready to leave for the night, but when he twisted around on that bar stool, he saw you standing there. a smile broke out on his face, and the next thing you knew, you were face down on his mattress, and all was forgotten. it was a cycle that repeated itself for years, this being your tenth summer returning to yellowstone. you couldn't help yourself, there was just something so magnetic about him. you couldn't stay away even if you tried. you show up, play house, counting down the days until a fight breaks out and then you disappear like leaves in the wind.

this time something was different though. everyone around you seemed to be trying to get you to stay. you'd had conversations with kayce, beth, tate, monica and even rip. that was the one you kept rolling over the most. you'd had a similar childhood as he did, but instead of you ending things, your father took your mother and two younger sister's lives then his own. you were seventeen. the only things you had left after that, was your horse, peaches, your truck and trailer. other than some clothes, that was all. you were a traveller, rarely staying in one spot long enough to form any meaningful connections.

lee and the dutton's were an anomaly to that. maybe that was why you always came back, but you couldn't be sure. rip had intercepted you just before supper one night, and despite never having had a much of a real conversation (besides small talk) in your ten years as acquaintances, you sat and listened to what he had to say. rip being a man of few words, had talked to–well more like at you–for twenty minutes. in that time, he'd managed to make you really wonder if running was the best option. you can only run for so long, eventually you'll be too old too, and then what? what would you have to show for it?

you phone goes off on the nightstand, and you sigh, forcing yourself to sit up. monica dutton long. you hit answer, and greet her.

"sorry, were you sleeping?"

"no, no, you're fine. what can i do for you?"

"tate was hoping you'd be up for a ride, i've packed a picnic, and kayce and lee said they'd meet us for lunch."

"sure, that sounds fun," you smile softly, your head screaming, see? you'd miss this if you left. you always do. "i'll get peaches ready, and meet you down at the barn,"

"awesome, tate's already excited. see you down there,"

you hang up, and slide out of bed. your feet hit the hard wood floor, and you go through your routine. you brush your teeth, put on a ballcap, and then throw on a t-shirt, jeans and your boots. you grab a bag of the cookies you bakes yesterday, and jump onto the four wheeler lee leaves for you so you can get around the far without using your truck. over the years, you've noticed that lee gets weird about your truck. it's probably because anytime you go near it, you're usually hauling ass out of yellowstone. you blink away the thought, and head down towards the barn.

lloyd is standing in the bunkhouse doorway when you park the four wheeler, "coffee?"

"oh, yes please." you nod, and he disappears inside returning moments later with a mug for you. "thanks, lloyd."

"you're welcome sweetheart," he smiles at you, and the pair of you stand in a comfortable silence, enjoying your coffee. "y'know, it's nice seeing you around here again,"

the guilt you've felt since you stepped into lee's house flairs back to life, and you nod, forcing a small smile. you go to walk towards the stall's, and he catches your elbow pulling you back.

"i know you've heard it a lot since you got back," he says, staring you down, "but everytime you leave; it's like lee loses part of him... you know that saying, "behind every good man, there's a great woman"? lee needs his great woman around. he needs you around,"

your eyes fill with tears, and you're sobbing before you have much of a chance to try and keep yourself together. lloyd's eyes go wide, and if you weren't losing your mind, you'd have laughed. he guides you into the bunkhouse, closing the door behind him. you plop down at the table, and try to calm yourself. lloyd stares at you, waiting patiently.

"i'm sorry," you mumble, using the shoulder of your shirt to wipe your eyes. "i don't know why that happened,"

"i didn't mean to push you," lloyd tells you, a look of guilt in his eyes.

"no, oh god no, please don't. this isn't your fault. i just..." you trail off looking at your feet. "can i vent for a minute?"

he nods, pulling out a chair and sitting beside you, "please,"

"i come from a pretty fucked up family," you start, lee doesn't even know about what happened to your family. you liked it that way, because every time you give someone an insight into your background, their perspective changed and they started treating you like glass. "i mean, who's isn't? mine... well, mine is a different kind of fucked up. my dad snapped one night, murdered my mom, two baby sisters, and then killed himself. no one's really sure why he did it; he was abusive as shit, sure, but that– that was a kind of rage he never displayed before. he didn't leave a note, he just did it, and then shot himself in the head. go figure the old bastard went the easy way,"

you sigh leaning forward resting your head in your hands, "i started running that night. i'd snuck out to see a boy, and came home to find them all dead. i just took off. had i not snuck out, i would be just like them. i don't have friends, i don't have any family, i've tried to keep to myself but when i met lee... my desire to be isolated changed. i just wanted to be with him. when i'm not here, all i can think about is whether he's safe or not. he's all i think about, but... my dad made it incredibly clear to me growing up that i was a burdern, unlovable, worthless, a waste of space... that kind of thing is difficult to just forget. he told me that everyday, for seventeen years. the scariest part of it all, is that i have my father's rage. i don't want to be like him, but i'm terrified that if i'm too close, i won't see it and it'll be too late."

you look up at lloyd, tears in your eyes, "he told me i wasn't worth loving, and i believe him. i hate leaving, i'm tired of it, but i'm terrified."

someone clears their throat from the doorway, the pair of you jumping at the noise. you turn your head, and see lee standing there, clutching the doorknob so tightly his fingers turn white. lloyd clears his throat, and stands, leaning down only to give your hand a light squeeze. lloyd leaves, and lee closes the door. it takes four long strides before lee is pulling you to your feet by your elbow, and crashing his lips to yours. you're surprised by the action, but melt into his touch. when the pair of you pull apart, breathing heavily, he rests his forehead against yours.

"i love you," he breaths, "you are worthy of love, you deserve happiness, and you are good."

your eyes water, again.

"how do you know i'm not a monster?" you whisper.

"because i know you. you bake cookies when you can't sleep, you pick up spiders and take them outside instead of killing them despite the fact that you're terrified of them, you close your eyes every time you see roadkill because it makes you sad that an animal died, you'd sooner adopt every animal than see them suffer, cute animals excite you, you're scared of thunder but always put on a brave face for tate because you don't want him to freak out, you hold doors open for everyone, and pay for peoples groceries or meal if they can't afford it. you are light, you are warmth, you are so damn good."

you bury your face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably as he holds you tightly. never in the ten years that lee has known you, has he ever seen your eyes water, let alone see you cry. someone knocks softly on the door, and then monica pokes her head in.

"oh, sorry– i was just going to ask if you guys were ready, but if now doesn't work–"

"no, now's good," you say, pulling your face away from his chest. "we were just–"

"she's staying," lee cuts you off, and she lets out an excited squeal.

"i have to tell kayce and tate!" she says, quickly disappearing.

you look up at him through red, swollen eyes, a teasing smile on your lips.

"i'm staying am i?" you ask wrapping your arms around his back. "'cause last i checked, you're the only one who hasn't asked me to stay."

"hasn't?" he echoes, an embarrassed look on his face as he looks down at you.

"oh yeah, your family was on me the minute i pulled in. you just happened to catch me in the aftermath of lloyd asking me."

"even rip?"

you nod, "especially rip. i think he had me convinced, but i wanted to hear it from you before i made my final decision."

he looks into your eyes, a serious look you've never seen before sliding over his features, "stay, please."

"okay," you whisper, not breaking eye contact, as his lips twitch up.

"marry me?" he says next, "please."

despite how badly he's caught you off guard, you find yourself immediately nodding, a wide smile crossing your face as he grabs you and spins you. you giggle, and he laughs, the pair of you hugging each other tightly.

"i love you," you tell him, "i love you so damn much, and i'm sorry for not you telling you sooner."

"it's ok, because we know now. that's good enough for me."

you nod, "me too."

#lee dutton #lee dutton x reader #yellowstone #kayce dutton #monica dutton long #beth dutton #jamie dutton #dutton ranch #john dutton #rip wheeler #ryan yellowstone x reader #ryan yellowstone #colby yellowstone #colby yellowstone x reader #teeter yellowstone #pileofboneswrites

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krispycreamcake · 3 months ago

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sakamaki with a latin gf!!! pleasee

From author: I fucking love poc asks so much. Also to make this just a tiny bit easier on myself since I have writer's block rn, I'll just do something a bit short today

Sakamaki's with a Latin gf

Shu Sakamami

🎻- Slightly intrigued by the culture

🎻- Would honestly ask a couple questions if he was up to listening to you rant about your customs

🎻- Honestly likes the music you play sometimes (he has a playlist of Celia Cruz but shh)

🎻- Also yes yes before you shoot me, I know he likes classical but he seems like the type of guy who could appreciate the way how salsa music incorporates different instruments to have a specific kick to the genre

🎻- Once you told him about paella and now he asks you to make it for him almost all the time

🎻- Terrified of meeting your family and avoids it at all costs but tries to pretend it doesn't bother him

Reiji Sakamaki

☕️- Extremely educated on Latin culture

☕️- Asks you for local book recommendations

☕️- Genuinely wants your opinion on Japanese culture and how much of a difference it is compared to your own

☕️- Like Shu, he enjoys the music and if he had to pick he'd say Los Tres Diamantes was his favourite band from that genre

☕️- Invested in learning Spanish and takes pride in tackling another language alongside German

☕️- Since Latino culture is extremely diverse, he'd ask you about your OWN personal experience a lot of the times

Ayato Sakamaki

🏀- "Of course the great ore-sama could obviously get any girl he wants from around the world!"

🏀- Cocky asshole

🏀- See it's one thing being able to charm those around you that you share similarities with, but it takes something special to make someone completely different than yourself fall in love with you

🏀- And Ayato knows this, takes pride in it even

🏀- Hmm when it comes to how interested he is about the culture I'd give it 5/10

🏀- He cares about you more than all those fancy songs and food, but that is YOUR culture, so by extension he kinda has to care even if it's just a little bit

🏀- Asks you to speak Spanish and if you can't, he'll make fun of you for it and tease you by telling you to go learn a thing or two from Reiji

Laito

🃏- Lorddddddd

🃏- LORDDDDDD

🃏- Well before I start, let me just say that he's also educated on the culture just maybe not as much as Reiji, so anything he does is a means to tease you by playing coy and outright stupid

🃏- Just also would like to add, if you're from Brazil and happen to have a curvy body, he WILL comment on that

🃏- If you have a flatter body type, he'll tease (annoy) you by asking how come you don't have more uh curves in certain areas because that's supposed to be what you're "known for"

🃏- Trust me, he's only saying this to get a reaction, he loves you in his own weird fucked up way

🃏- But expect a lot of comments like that and at some point you'll probably need to tell him off

🃏- Midnight salsa dancing because well, do you honestly expect anything else from him?

🃏- One of his favourite things to do is watch those cliche over dramatic Spanish dramas and eats it up every single time there turns out to be a twin brother

Kanato Sakamaki

🧸- Like Ayato, doesn't care that much about the culture, rather his main focus is on you

🧸- Probably likes to hear you tell scary folklore stories from wherever you're from

🧸- And on that note, he already knows about La Lloronoa and Sihuanaba

🧸- Makes Teddy™ cover his ears when you get to the scary parts

🧸- Comments on how he'd still love you as a vengeful ghost and might even prefer it that way

🧸- Like Laito, he has this preconceived notion that you're meant to be curvy but doesn't care if you aren't

🧸- Besides if he only liked you for your body, he'd kill you and preserve you somewhere, hiding you away from the rest of the world where only he could see you. But he'd never do that riiiiiiight?

Subaru Sakamaki

🥀- Learns how to salsa when no one is around so he could impress you one day

🥀- Like Laito, he also watches those cliche Spanish soap operas but pretends he doesn't like them and think they're overrated (He's on the second season of Monarca)

🥀- Secretly interested in the culture and would ask Reiji for some books so he could learn more

🥀- Doesn't want to seem dumb in front of you but also doesn't want make a fool of himself by saying words he doesn't understand or asking dumb questions

🥀- If you speak Portuguese or Spanish, likes hearing you talk in your native tongue

🥀- Out of all the brothers, he'd be the one to treat you the most "normally" by not pestering you with questions or flaunting you off like a trophy he just won

🥀- You try to teach him your native language so you could both shit talk his brothers right in front their faces

From Author: It has been so long since I opened this app omfg but I've been busy with a lot of irl things so now I should have a bit more time to produce more content yay (I'm this close to jumping off a bridge with how dead the fandom is rn)

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moonfawnx · 4 months ago

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Hands touching, fingers entangling

Nyx Archeron x reader

Chapter 1

Nyx stared at her.

She stared right back.

“Take her to Azriel- she needs to be questioned” his father ordered the two guards.

His heart faltered.

Would they take her to dungeons? Put her in a cell?

Gods she was so small, she couldn’t be older than 25 if she was a human.

“Father” he interrupted them talking.

His father’s eyes met his own, as the narrowed.

A silent question, he realised.

“I can speak to her, instead of Azriel” he spoke, as bis eyer went to his mother, who was looking at him confused.

But as she saw his expression, one of stubbornness and surprise, she understood.

“But-“ his father tried to object, before he was silenced by the high lady.

“Rhys darling, our son is the heir- he needs to learn how to handle this stuff. Let him.” she smiled at her mate.

The pair seemed to have a silent conversation, before Rhys sighed and nodded, before Feyre winnowed him away.

Nyx ordered the guards away as well, claiming that he could handle the girl in front of him.

Or maybe he couldn’t.

As soon as the guards were out, before he could even register what was happening, she had landed a punch straight on his face.

“Were you the one to tell them?” she asked angrily “Were you the reason they caught me?”

Nyx held his nose, a shocked expression on his face as he stared at the female in front of him, scolding him as if he wasn’t the prince.

“I have no clue of what you’re talking about, my lady” he tried to contain his small grin at the human’s fierce.

She was silent as she looked around, inspecting every single detail of his home. Now that he was given a closest look at her, he made sure to admire all of her features, from her shiny hair, to her deep green eyes, her delicate hands, and very, very short legs. Probably due to humanity.

And then, just like that, she turned around and started walking away from him.

“Um, excuse me?” he rushed to her side but was given no attention “My lady, you cannot-“

A frustrated sigh left her lips as she turned and looked at him.

“Respectfully, prince”she gave him a tight smile “i do not wish to be chewed out for sneaking here”

“you won’t be” the words left his mouth quicker than he’d ever imagine. “I mean- it was wrong of course but…”

“But what?” her eyebrow rose, giving him a curious expression.

“But it was also very impressive. And you must have some guts to do that” he breathed out, as he finally really thought about what happened.

A human, that didn’t even reach his shoulders in height, whom looked no more that two decades old, had somehow managed to sneak and twist his father’s shields?

How was that even possible, and why was no one else freaked out?

She opened her mouth, to speak again, but a loud crush interrupted her.

Both their heads snapped towards the direction where the sound came from, only to come face with a very bloody Amren, surrounded by broken bottles, leaking of blood.

“Oh my gods” The girl breathed out, staring at the creature as if she’d seen a ghost.

Nyx quickly remembered, that not everyone was used to his blood-drinking aunt and her unnatural looks, especially not a young human girl who probably didn’t even know the name of the high lord.

But before he even had the chance to explain to the girl the speciality of his aunt, her body was on the floor, passed out.

It was hours later, that Y/n woke up in a strange bed, worryingly huge. Her eyes fluttered as she eyed the area around her, noting the dark walls, but the richness evident.

She heard a sound, coming from the door across the bed she was laying in, and then the beautiful man from later, headed towards her, giving her a slight smirk.

Worst of all, the closest thing to garments on him, was the towel wrapped around his waist, as droplets slid through his skin.

“Well, look who’s finally awake” he grinned, fangs flashing.

“Where am i?” was all she answered with.

“This is my bedroom” He replied simply, as if it wasn’t weird how a stranger was in his bed.

Without another word, Y/n was up, heading towards the door, before the princeling stopped her by grabbing her wrist softly.

“And where do you think you’re going beautiful?” he shamelessly grinned at the girl in front of him.

“Three seconds” she only said.

His grin turned into a look of confusion.

“What do you mean”

“One” she started counting, as Nyx looked at her amused.

“Two” she continued, giving him a stern look.

“Three!” the heir finished her counting for her. “What does this even mean-“ he tried to ask, but was too late, as the girl quickly grabbed one of the plates on his near night stand, and smashed it on him.

Absolute wild eyes stared at her, appalled by the hit, and even if he would never admit it, mad that he did not predict that.

His hand rubbed his nose, scrunching it in pain. “Now what was that for”

“Do not touch me again” she sais dryly, completely unaffected by the smack she had landed on him.

“And you couldn’t just say that?” The heir asked bewildered, and for whatever sick reason, felt a soft attraction towards the girl in front of him, due to her obvious to everyone beauty.

“I-“ she started, but instantly paused as her eyes landed on something behind Nyx, towards his balcony.

He turned to also understand what she was looking for, and came across a bloodied Cassian and Azriel sparring.

“My god-“ he heard her mutter, and a few seconds later, she was falling, having fainted again,

“Fucking gods” the heir mumbled, as he once again placed the girl on his bed and-

And fucking headed to take care of his stupid bloody nose she had given him.

A/N i am aware this is a very short chapter but trust me, the fun starts by the next chapter!

Taglist: @acourtofsmutandstarlight @writeroutoftime

#nyx x reader #acotar fic #nyx acotar #dad!rhysand #feyre archeron #rhysand acotar

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imagine-shenanigans · 11 months ago

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I've got severe brain worms from @391780 's fic Into Your Veins, and now I'm thinking of all the different scenarios where the 141 are also monsters in the apocalypse. like. obsessively. Also fat/chubby reader because mmmmmm yaes <3

Also this is basically just rambles and ranting over ideas for like, however long this got i didnt actually check teehee

We already have vampire simon so I won't touch on that because that is Specifically Their Brain Worms but I can't stop laughing every single time over the sunflower seeds incident (and every other similar one).

Soap as a werewolf is soooooo funny to me. Like he's constantly in this battle of "Don't swallow don't swallow don't swallow" whenever he rips a zombie in half with his teeth in wolf form and then confusion as to why people would think he's possibly infected. "Wdym I'm infected I'm just a little guy. I'm so cute. I wouldn't ever do anything. Smiles." He can't cover distance like Ghost or Gaz can, and sure he doesn't have the same authority that Price does, but he's a damn good soldier, and he's got some of the most sheer brute force on the team. So when Price tells him to start scouting in an area for survivors, he does! He's very thorough, combs over the area with a precision that would make most soldiers weep with jealousy.

He ends up scenting reader before he sees them, watches their little house from a distance. He's not patient like Simon, but he does watch reader for awhile, watches them surviving, all on their own in this little plot of land. Ends up watching your plush hips sway as you set out the laundry to dry. He's mesmerized, as he watches the sweat drip down your skin while you reinforce a few of your traps, go over the house with a fine toothed comb. You can't see him in the shadows, but by god is he seeing you. (And your ass - god he can't stop staring.)

He's not nearly patient enough to wait, so he waltzes right up, thinking his charming smile and accent is enough to win him some brownie points. He's halfway through a pickup line, maybe, when you level a shotgun at his face, completely unamused.

He's in love.

You refuse to go with him, but Price gave him orders and there's no WAY he's letting you go, not after he's seen your thighs and imagined himself using them as earmuffs. Not after he's thinking of a cute domestic life, providing for you like a good mate, and look at how precious you are, threatening him and -

and you shoot him.

Right in the chest, and thank god for the fact that it takes more than a few bullets to kill him because he's tearing through his skin in an instant, bones cracking and sinew melding as he quickly drops into his wolf form (which, jesus christ he's fucking HUGE) to help ease some of the pain and kickstart his healing process. He snarls right in your face and snaps your damn gun in half with his teeth before he tells you he'll be back in a week. (later, he feels bad, certainly, but only for frightening you)

You freak out, because JESUS CHRIST WEREWOLVES ARE REAL TOO????

Johnny's back in a week as promised, after spending a few days in bed and eating anything he could get his hands on all while gushing about the pretty little soft thing he's bringing back. He even goes out of his way to bring you a gift!!! He hunts down a deer on the way through the woods near your home, bringing dinner so he can butcher it and you can cook it because of course he's bringing you back for practical reasons but if he's going to court you no you don't need to know that.

You're gone when he comes to the home, every last item packed away and shoved into the back of the car he'd seen you drive. He's furious that his hard work will go to waste, so he helps himself to the rest of what you've got in the house and decides to store everything away for when he's on his way back to base. Fights his urge to track you down only for long enough to be practical, and then he's on the hunt.

It doesn't take him long to find you - he can run faster than your car can go cautiously while trying not to attract attention from a horde of zombies, and even though he's living he doesn't attract the same attention from the freaks that you do in a car with a gun. He tracks you down in no time flat, smiling as he taps on your window where you're parked inconspicuously to catch a few minutes of sleep.

When you scream, he laughs and waves, threatens with one clawed hand to slash the tires if you don't come out. Practicality wins in this case, and he has a long talk with you about coming back with him. He's sure he's just about convinced you when you slap him, throwing something at him that has him howling in white-hot pain. He can hear your apologies through sobs as you push him and he tangles with whatever you've thrown at him, trying to get it off in a blind panic, and you've driven off before he can stop you.

When he finally has a moment to breathe, the damn thing off of him, he realizes you'd tied together a small net of necklace chains - silver. necklace chains.

He's as angry as he as endeared, really. It's a game now, of fetch, of tag, he's not sure - he just ends up changing pace, gently herds you back in the direction of the base like a cattle dog. You're furious when he finally pops your tires when you're a good two days away from the base, just hefts you up on a shoulder and pats your ass while he walks with you. He's so smug about it too, and by all accounts, he's won your hand in marriage by finding you, whether or not you agree yet.

Now, I'm not as familiar with Gaz as I'd like to be (because I got introduced with Ghoap stuff for my entry into the fandom) so please pardon if my characterization is off but I do love him dearly and eat up all content I end up seeing of him.

I'm slightly biased with Gaz being a harpy because I just love the idea of him being a bird of prey like a peregrine falcon (and i think its bluegiragi who has the monster au of him as a harpy?) or a shifter of some sort like a panther or a cheetah (i'm biased towards cheetah actually, because I love the pictures/videos of cheetahs getting emotional support golden retrievers).

Since my idea for this isn't EITHER of those options, please consider reader putting spike traps on the roof for a bird Gaz like stores put up on their signs. He gets real angry about it for a couple days and then figures out exactly how/where to land so he can perch on your roof anyway, scaring the shit out of you when he's just sitting there, chin in his hands, with a shit eating grin when you go to make sure everything's alright on the roof.

Anyway, for this I'm actually thinking fae Gaz - he's been living amongst humans for as long as he can really remember. He's not a changeling, but his mum was fae and she loved his dad. He's visited the fae realm once or twice (and, as convincing as his mum is when he visits her, he nearly forgets about the time dissonance every single visit - none are as bad as the first time, when he had no clue about it, and ended up being gone for fifty years.)

He's sent to greet you when Ghost majestically fails, and Cap'n doesn't quite want to set Soap loose on the poor reader (yet). Ends up falling in love with how clever you are, soft hands slipping into gloves as you pile leaves over the thin nets over the punji pits and bear traps. He's military trained across multiple decades, he's seen all kinds of war (even though he's still relatively young in comparison - he stopped physically aging somewhere in his twenties, but he's barely been alive for like, fifty years) and he's seen all kinds of tricks.

He watches you pour over old books that you've either scavenged or already had, learning how to make simple, but effective traps. The older types of traps are such a clever idea when combined with new ones. The type doesn't matter much to zombies, but the combination of different types will keep humans (and others) on their guard.

He really really really intends to talk to you, instead of lingering in the shadows like a creep.

You end up seeing him, and through sheer luck (or wit, Gaz isn't honestly sure) when he asks that you give him your name, you say; "Give me your name first."

He's stuck at that one, because Gaz has spent years talking around subjects but this pretty little human just points a shotgun at him and demands his attention. He can't even think to talk around the reason he's there when he changes the subject awkwardly, and you insist on his name.

He can't give you his name, his power, not even his nickname, so it ends with him awkwardly leaving.

He's the absolute butt of the joke when he gets back to base after slipping into the trees (so embarrassed that he doesn't take the time to make sure you can't see him do it) and goes straight back to base utilizing a mushroom circle and the sheer willpower to not get distracted as he slips between realms. Makes a week long trek into an hour's worth of walking.

When he returns, he knocks politely, eyeing the newly replaced doorknob.

When he touches it, out of curiosity, he's gobsmacked to find out you've either found a new knob, or cast the old one in cold iron. He touches it three full times in complete disbelief, watches the skin on his hands grow irritated and blister.

You smirk when you open the door, make some shitty joke that he's pretty sure is a twilight reference that would make Ghost furious, and then you tell him you figured it out pretty quickly.

In comparison to Ghost and Soap, his romance is altogether extremely easy - he just keeps visiting every single day, calls you a nickname when you won't give him an actual answer.

He admires your caution, and falls just a little more in love when you call him something stupid like mushroom man.

In the end, what ends up convincing reader, I think, is that he fully gives them his name. It's akin to a proposal, and Gaz isn't quite sure how he feels when you don't realize it as you roll his name - Kyle Garrick on your tongue, testing it. You ask if you can keep calling him Mushie Man and some other stupid nickname and he laughs, presses a kiss to your temple for it. Says it's only fitting, and whispers your full name like a prayer.

He lets you stay in your home a little longer, as long as you need really, laces a misdirection hex into the branches that'll really only work on humans. He comes by every day, no matter what.

When you finally agree, he grabs your face and kisses you like you've given him the sun and stars and hung the moon just to illuminate his way.

For Price, I'm going to say dragon price because mmmm hot. Anyway I like to think it's a little bit of everything.

Ghost is the first - you find out really quickly that he fucking hates the counting trick you pull, so you're sure to carry a pocket full of something small just to piss him off if he gets too close. When you don't make eye contact (whether intentional or because you hate it) he's absolutely bewildered that this Soft Little Thing in the woods has so effectively blocked him from getting his job done initially that when he complains to Price, he puts his foot down. Says if Price thinks is so funny, he should send Johnny or Gaz out, see if they can do better.

And Price, sides hurting from laughing so much, agrees to make it Soap's problem next.

Soap returns, a net-like burn across his forearm from where you'd thrown tied together necklace chains at him. He's pissed, whines and moans for hours about how bad it hurts, and Price just snorts and tells him Shouldn't have tried to drag them out, then.

When intimidation and brute force don't work, Price lets Gaz have a go at it.

The man is practically radiating smugness as he goes to win, and Price is crying with laughter when Gaz comes back, his hands blistered and pride bruised. He clears his throat and says I think ah, I think they've just gone ahead and put every guard on the house they can think of. He does not tell anyone that the human ended up catching him in a net for half an hour afterwards, chiding him for the full thirty minutes about trying to open someone's door without asking.

(But Price knows.)

He ends up saying he's going to go deal with it himself to "Show them how it's done."

Really though, he's absolutely smitten with the idea of you. He knows that, given the time and will, his boys would absolutely bring you back - but he doesn't want that anymore. He has to see for himself the cute soft little human in the woods that's managed to catch all three of his best soldiers off guard because all three of them underestimated you.

He can't very well let anyone on base know (especially the civilians) what he is, so he waits until the dead of night to start flying - only does so when he's well past the point of being seen, even if it means he has to fly in his hybrid form, which is a little awkward when he doesn't do it as often.

He's a perfect gentleman when he walks up to your home at daybreak, letting his form go back to human.

He avoids every trap, tripwire, and camera that Simon and Johnny and Kyle had all warned him about so you don't have to spend your precious time and energy fixing them. He knocks on the door and waits until you open it, introduces himself as Captain John Price, love.

Apologies for the heavy handed attempts of his men as he stands on your doorstep. When you slam the door in his face he simply sighs and knocks again. And again, and again, until you finally relent and open the door back up.

He smiles, and asks if he can come in - you say no, and he smiles.

Love, if I wanted to I could push past you, I'm asking to be polite.

You freeze at that, trying to think, trying to evaluate. You're clever, he thinks with a pleased hum, half lidded eyes staring down at you. You sigh, and relent, finally - knowing that whatever battle that you'd be fighting uphill could at least be done over the breakfast you were starting to cook, and you didn't want to waste it.

Something twinges in John's chest as he sits at the table, and decides, like the rotten, greedy bastard he knows he is, that you're his. And not his like the rest of the people he's got, but his. You'll be his, no matter how long it takes him.

He lets you cook in silence, enjoying the mundane domesticity of it all, tucks into the plate of food gratefully, and feels like he's home.

After breakfast, John takes the time to ask you questions. About your past, about your hobbies outside of survival, how many things you've got that'll be coming with. When you remind him you haven't agreed, he chuckles and smooths a hand over your hair and reminds you that he hasn't asked.

You finally ask him what he is, and he blows a mote of smoke at you, watches the realization hit you before you go blank. A fucking dragon? You ask.

A fucking dragon, he responds.

John is extremely amused when you tell him to wait on the doorstep, and you go upstairs for something. When you come back down, you hand him a box full of jewelry (he almost laughs when he notices the amount of silver chains missing.)

He hands you the box back and curls a finger beneath your chin, calls you a silly girl/boy/pet and tells you that not all the stories are true. In this case, they are, of course- but he doesn't need to tell you that he hoards people, not things. That his hoard is every single person on base - doesn't tell you that his most treasured parts of his hoard are the three strong men who work directly with him, that he intends to keep them for as long as he lives, which will still be a damn long time coming, even if he's been around since before the middle ages.

You'll be his favorite of all though, he thinks.

He gives you a week, but tells you that his boys will keep an eye on you, make sure you're still there every day until he personally comes to escort you home. When you remind him, stubbornly, you are home, he laughs, and presses a kiss to your forehead while you stand there, bewildered.

In between that moment, and when you get back to base with him, I can't decide if its better if he ends up singlehandedly destroying a small horde of zombies with fire breath as the pits you've got full of traps fill up, or if it's better if he shows up with a box truck and a few men and they all end up moving you out of the house without asking. Maybe it's a mix of both - you decide!

But regardless, it ends exactly as he wants - you, tucked up into his lap as he reads reports and issues orders. He skips the dating and goes straight into being your husband - makes some sort of quip about being far too old (fashioned) to entertain the thought and goes straight to being married like "it used to be." Even though for a dragon he's still kinda young, hasn't even hit his comparative forties yet, actually. Even though it doesn't really matter, because as far as he's aware dragons don't die of old age so much as they die of other factors beyond their control. It's why he's so carefully cultivated his life towards survival thus far.

John lets you do whatever you want to keep you busy, the only real stipulation is that you come home to him at the end of the day. He's even quite respectful, really. He never touches you without your consent, aside from placing soft kisses on your temple or forehead, or cuddling up to you in your shared bed. (Which you say you only entertain because he's warm, and there's no heating in his room. But really, you love it when he holds you, and lets you hold him with no questions asked, all under the pretense of being half-asleep.)

He acts like he has all the time in the world for you to come around - and he does.

You'll be awfully sore later when you realize he's bound your life to his, even angrier when your teeth adjust and you can start seeing better. He'll pretend not to notice the changes at first to see what you think, and then he'll help you through all of them, cooing and sighing and rubbing into sore muscles as you learn how to control changing into your half-dragon form. Maybe in a couple hundred years you'll figure out how to fully transform into a dragon - maybe not.

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