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sockendrache · 3 years ago

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Egg

Inspired by my own dissatisfaction that Kyle didn’t get a Monstie and @magicallynormal ‘s idea of Kyle’s Monstie being a Tobi-Kadachi, I wrote this little ff in like 2 hours because I had nothing better to do

I wanted the Rider to stay gender-neutral but it just sounds like Kyle never bothered to ask them for their name-

___________________

“This is a terrible idea.”

“You should’ve thought about it before we left Kuan, then.”

Without sparing Kyle another glance, the Rider entered the Monster’s nesting-area without any hesitation showing on their face; Ratha close behind them. From within the depths of the cave, the Hunter could hear distant roars and predatory clicks; instinctively, he straightens his back, hand hovering over his bow.

The Rider, kneeling besides the huge nest, doesn’t seem bothered by the sounds at all; way too busy examining the brightly colored eggs.

Off to the sides, Kyle spots various piles of worn-down bones, all sporting teeth-marks and scratches, some entirely broken open. Along with a few stray chunks of flesh, almost blending into the ground of the den. They don’t look very fresh; probably a few days old already. His instincts tell Kyle to quickly gather up a few samples of whatever he can get his hands on, maybe let his scoutflies out to take in the scents; then leave the den as quickly and quietly as possible. Not taking anything valuable with him, not disturbing the Monster’s home in any way.

Though... the weight of the kinship-stone, strapped to his left hand, reminds him of the reason for this “expedition”.

He’s not here to take samples for the ever-curious Research Center, nor to track down a Monster. He’s not here to deliver chunks of flesh or eggs.... however, maybe he should just imagine he’s here for a delivery-quest. Maybe that would help calm his poor nerves, still absolutely shot to hell.

Kyle, who was born and raised a Hunter, who knows nothing else; he’s here to get his first Monstie.

It’s absolutely unheard of. A Hunter, whose sole purpose is to hunt these beasts down –maybe capturing them after tiring them out in battle, if the quest calls for it- is about to form a bond with one of these creatures, who he spent years of his life learning the weaknesses of, training to take down beasts several times his size.

Kyle takes a strained breath, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. Over their shoulder, the Rider shoots him a look; their eyes warm, their glance almost comforting.

“Come closer.”, they calmly say, gesturing with their hand towards the nest.

Feeling drastically out of his element, Kyle follows the command; takes a few brave steps towards the nest and promptly freezes up again.

He knows the process of this; hell, he’s already lost track of how often he stood guard while his new Rider-friend sifted through a Monster’s nest. He knew how to hold Wyvern-eggs, how damn heavy these things were and how stupid you looked while carrying one. He knew how these things were goddamn predator-magnets, and how easily they broke.

That, perhaps, was one of the things that frightened Kyle the most about this whole situation.

How often had he accidentally broken an egg while out on a transporting-quest? How often had he washed the yolk and slimy egg-whites off his armor in a nearby stream, before tracking his way back to the nest to pick up a new egg? And how often had he not wasted a single thought on it...?

It’s just eggs, he used to think. Eggs that he’ll bring to the canteen after returning to the base, eggs that he’ll probably eat sooner or later before leaving the base again, set out on yet another quest.

And yet, here he was. Standing at a Monster’s nest, containing eggs that he, before he met the Riders, used to scoop up without thinking about it twice. His muscles feel stiff beneath his armor, his throat scratchy and dry; what if he broke this egg too?

“Kyle?”, the Rider’s calm voice rips him out of his violently spinning thoughts. “You okay?”

Was he okay? Good question; if only Kyle knew the answer.

“I... I don’t think I can do this.”, he mutters, hating how small his voice is sounding. Cold fingers brush over his kinship-stone; a gift from the Rider. Apparently, it once belonged to them- before this Wyverian girl gave them their grandfather’s kinship-stone. “I mean- if I should do this. I’m- I’m a Hunter, we don’t just.... ride Monsters.”

They, like so often, only shake their head the slightest bit. And calmly, they reach for Kyle’s hand.

“Then why does Ratha love you so much?”

Almost as if on command, a big, scaly head bumps into his back; Ratha’s idea of a hug. After having spent a little time on Hakolo-island, it was almost frightening to see how.... human Monsters -or Monsties, as Kyle learned they were called- could be. He’s seen Ratha pick up on emotions, display human-like behavior; and not just on him. The Rider loved to point out the Monster’s behaviors whenever they took on a quest together, and as someone who’s spent his whole life learning about Monsters, it felt so entirely.... different, watching their behavior in packs, or see something as innocently as an Azuros teaching its cubs how to fish.

It felt almost unreal.

As a Hunter, most, if not all of his hunting-quests were targeting Monsters wrecking havoc; and when he’s out collecting ingredients or samples, he rarely ever got the chance of seeing Monsters in their natural habitat. And admittedly... seeing these beasts; even the ones that were known for their hostile behavior, completely unbothered by his presence... it shook something deep inside Kyle’s core.

Gently, cold fingers intertwine with his; pulling him down to kneel next to the Rider. Kyle peers over the edge of the massive nest; its inside carefully laid out with tufts of fur and moss. It’s like a giant bird-nest, the Monster clearly having put a lot of work into the making of it. Upon closer inspection of the fur, Kyle has a vague idea of whose nest he’s sitting at right now; though, following the Rider around, he quickly learned that there’s often a few “imposter”-eggs in a nest, smuggled in by Monsters not bothering to care for their young one hatched.

The silence feels tense; so, Kyle attempts to ease it a little.

“Why didn’t Navirou come along? Wouldn’t he be of help, sniffing out a good egg?”

Quietly, the Rider shook their head, giving Kyle an almost apologetic smile. They weren’t a big fan of words; he quickly caught up on that. However, this look didn’t need any words; after all, Kyle did tag along to a few egg-hunts before, watching from the sidelines as Navirou ushered them out of the den, barely giving the Rider enough time to get a good grip on the newly acquired egg. It’s not like Kyle had anything against the Felyne personally; but he had to admit that he was glad he wouldn’t have to rush through this process, only to prevent Navirou from having a Monster-induced heart-attack.

After all, he had a feeling that time would be an important factor in picking out his first Monstie.

With a huff, the Rider pushes themselves up, gently pulling Kyle with them as they step into the nest. Twigs crunch under his weight as he kneels down, getting onto the same level as the eggs.

The Rider placed their hand on Kyle’s shoulder; he’d lie if he tried to tell anyone that it wasn’t comforting. “Just pick the egg you have a connection to. Good smell or not, doesn’t matter. Don’t tell Navi I said that, though.”

The instructions are clear, yet awfully vague; and Kyle can’t help but note how it’s one of the longest sentences he’s ever heard from them. “Take your time, but.... not too much. Before an angry Mama Monster sees us.”

“....sounds reasonable.”

As he looks over each of the large eggs, most of them brown in color with yellow-ish ovals on the shell, he notices the odd one out. Between the egg of an herbivore, if he recalled correctly, laid a pale blue egg, the shell littered with dark blue, almost black zigzags.

Apparently, his gaze lingered a little too long on the lone Wyern-egg, as evident by the look the Rider gave him.

“That one?”, they asked, gingerly reaching out to guide Kyle’s hand towards the egg. Despite the cold air having slowly numbed his fingers, the egg’s surprisingly smooth texture is one of the first things that he notices. At first glance, it’s just like any other Wyvern-egg he’s transported before; and yet, in the back of Kyle’s mind, there was something.... else to this egg.

As if he could feel the Monster calling out to him from within its protective shell, only waiting for a Rider to bestow it their blessings and allow it to awaken into this world.

“I- ….is this normal?”

His fingers now shivering, he places his entire hand on the egg, frightened yet amazed how small his hand is compared to the massive egg. The Rider gives him a look that Kyle can’t quite place.

“I feel like-... this little guy wants to come out...?”

Before he knows it, Kyle is protectively clutching the egg to his chest; holding onto it just a little tighter than onto the ones during his transport-quests. The Rider and Ratha lead the way out of the Monster’s den, practically shielding him from the hungry eyes of the predators waiting in their path.

On the flight back to Kuan, Kyle could swear that his kinship-stone was pulsating with life.

__________________________________

“....is this really necessary?”

Back in the village, their first stop was the stables. And under the watchful eye of the Felyne running the stables, Rider and Hunter were preparing to hatch the little Monstie.

The egg –a pulsing fanged Wyvern, as Kyle now knew- was placed in a little nest, and Kyle could think it was staring at him from beneath the shell.

The Rider doesn’t bother answering, instead handing him a stick, with which they –to Kyle’s horror- performed something apparently referred to as “Dance of the tribe”, a ritual meant to pray for a healthy Monstie to hatch from an egg. Though, Kyle wasn’t entirely sure if they were just fucking with him, or if it was a legit ritual back on Hakolo-island.

Though, he doubted he’d have time to fly back to Mahana-village and ask the chief for confirmation before his Monstie hatched, and... something told him that he didn’t want to miss this.

And so, with the utmost raise of his eyebrow Kyle could possibly muster, he gingerly reached for the stick.

_________________________________________

By the time he was done, his face bright red and radiating more warmth than the oven inside his house, the egg hadn’t budged. Other than the soft cackle of the fire and Kyle’s tense breathing, the stables were silent, everyone’s eyes fixed on the egg... before suddenly, it shuddered with life.

Kyle, utterly overwhelmed with the situation, could only stare helplessly as the egg started to crack, pieces of the shell starting to fall off and revealing tiny spots of blue fur. Though, the Rider is quick to help; promptly instructing him to hold his kinship-stone towards the egg.

“To help it hatch,” they explained, their eyes practically glazed over with excitement. But hell, in comparison to Kyle, that was nothing. There might have even been tears in his eyes, he didn’t know- not even if they were from excitement or fear.

His kinship-stone starts to glisten in a bright blue light; he’d probably be scared if he hadn’t seen this during his battles with the Rider. The shell continues to crack open, tiny pieces falling off, until the egg shattered with a burst of life, a shrieking roar piercing the tense atmosphere of the stables.

As Kyle is face to face with the little Monstie, his throat starts to tighten.

“A Tobi-Kadachi! What a fine little Meownster,” the Felyne purrs as the Monster looks up at Kyle with –surprisingly- innocent-looking eyes.

Instinctively, something in Kyle wants to reach for his bow- thank the sapphire-star he took it off after entering the village. A tingling heat starts to spread throughout his body; the first hints of adrenaline starting to pump into his blood stream. He’s reminded of the piercing roars of the adults he’s encountered during his hunts, of their bursts of electricity when they glide through the trees and pounce onto their prey.

A bead of sweat collects on his brow; and as always, the Rider seems to notice. Calmly, they appear at his side, taking his clammy hand into theirs and holding it out- that way, Kyle can clearly see how his fingers shake.

The tiny Monster curiously looks at his hand; and just like that, his eyes squeeze shut and Kyle finds himself praying that the little creature is more interested in sniffing him than chewing his fingers off- at least until he feels something soft press up into his palm.

Upon forcing his eyelids open, he sees this newborn Monster rub its unbelievably tiny head against his palm, the smallest chirps coming out of its throat, and the Rider- they carefully let go of his hand, grabbing a hold of the other one and guiding it towards the Monster-…. No, guiding it towards his Monstie and-

The Tobi-Kadachi, this freshly hatched creature; it outright jumps into his arms- a poor attempt at gliding, it seems, and just like that, Kyle’s instinct to reach for his bow is replaced by the instinct to catch the Monster and-

By the gleeful little churr it makes once its settled in Kyle’s arms, he promptly finds himself nuzzling his face into soft fur. Still utterly overwhelmed by the idea of this tiny creature being his Monstie, but as he looks into the Wyvern’s big eyes, so full of innocence and wonder, he suddenly feels very much like he- no, they can do this.

#mhst2 #monster hunter stories 2 #monster hunter stories wings of ruin #monster hunter kyle #monster hunter fanfiction #fanfiction #tobi-kadachi #monster hunter stories #give this boy a monstie im begging you

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justnerdthings · 3 years ago

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New Beginnings Ch. 3

Female reader x Liu Kang/Kung Lao (Not sure which yet)

Wow, guys. Thanks so much for all your kind words, favorites, reblogs, and follows! I didn't think this fic would do well. But I'm glad I was wrong!

Someone had asked about being added to a tag list for updates. I'm certainly willing to add one! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future updates. I'll try and make sure I get everyone.

Without further ado, here's the much requested chapter 3!

You didn't sleep worth a damn that night. Not only was your anxiety running wild, but it gave you nightmares of being killed in fights your subconscious conjured up by remembering what Raiden told you about Mortal Kombat.

That… And this wasn't your bed.

You managed to fall asleep early into the morning.

A harsh knock banged on your door. You nearly jumped out of your skin as it woke you. Wide-eyed, you sat straight up in your bed and watched the door as if it was about to attack you.

Another harsh knock startled you. Quickly you got to your feet and answered the door. Kung Lao stood in front of you, an impatient look on his face. A large black, brimmed hat was on his head… was it made of metal? "Put on a gi," he ordered.

Your brows bunched.

One of his brows rose quizzically.

"What?" You said. You could feel how dry your throat was. God, you needed a drink.

Lao inhaled sharply. With a nod he gestured vaguely for you to step back. You did, and he stepped past you to the wooden chest at the foot of your bed. With a swift kick the top swung open. You stepped over to look inside and saw a small selection of clothes, very plain, but similar to Lao's and Liu's that you remembered. There was also a long, simple gown that you guessed was for sleeping. That would have been nice to know about last night. Lao reached in and pulled out a gi. He tossed it on your bed. "That is a gi," he told you, turning his attention back to you. "Put this on, then step outside into the hall. I'm training you this morning."

You brushed a hand through your hair and realized it was a mess. Bed head. Your fingers tried combing out the knots as you looked at him. "When's breakfast?" You asked. Really. Food sounded good. You hardly ate last night.

"After your morning training," Lao said.

"Why after?"

"Because it is. Wake up. Train first. Then breakfast. Then train again. Lunch. Train. Dinner," he listed off. "After dinner you can do whatever you like, but you'd be wise to rest up. You're going to be sore."

Your jaw hurt as it clenched. "Everyday?"

"Everyday."

"Even weekends?"

"Everyday," he repeated sternly.

You almost groaned.

"Unless you'd rather give up and go home?" He mocked.

God, would you. Home sounded great.

But you were needed here. Raiden needed your help to fight Shang Tsung. Sure, you were useless right now. And sure, he gave you a choice to not be involved, but Raiden had been able to paint a very real picture of what Earth would be like if Shang won Mortal Kombat just one more time… Earth would be destroyed. Everything gone. You. Your home. Everyone.

"No," you said. "No, Raiden wants my help… Can't exactly tell a god ‘no.’" Was that defeat in your tone?

"Good. Now change," Lao said as he turned and stepped out of your room, closing the door behind him.

It only took you a minute to get changed. The gi felt strange. You weren’t used to such loose clothing, but you did like that it let your body breathe. Stepping out into the hall, you saw Lao leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked you up and down, then nodded in approval before turning and walking down the hall. You followed, but kept your distance.

“Can I get something to drink?” You decided to ask after a moment of silence.

“We’ll have water there,” He said, glancing back at you.

“Is Liu going to be there?” You asked.

“Already don’t like me?” Lao asked.

“He’s just not an asshole to me,” you quipped, and immediately regretted it as Lao stopped in his tracks. Goosebumps covered your arms and neck.

“I’ve been called worse,” He simply said and continued walking.

A relieved breath escaped you. You saw that going differently in your head. You expected some shouting. But he just… accepted it.

The rest of the walk was in silence as he led you to an open area, sand covering the ground, pillars to the left and right. An array of training dummies and tools were placed around the sand. This was a fighting arena, you realized. And it had a view...

You slowed your pace. Oh no. Not a view. And this one didn’t have any sort of railing. It just dropped off! Oooh fuck this, you thought and stepped back even though the ledge was about a hundred feet away.

“Come here!” Lao called over as he stood in the center of the arena.

You didn’t move. Moving to him would put you closer to the ledge. No way.

But he grew impatient again. His voice raised and it echoed through the ravine. "COME. HERE!"

Those goosebumps came back. Hesitating, you slowly made your way over to him.

"Good. Sit."

You did. Right in the sand. Lao took his hat off and swung it down. You jumped as he made a deep line in the sand not even an inch from you. The sound of metal grating the sand sent a shiver through you.

"This is Lord Raiden’s arena. Each day you will step closer to that ledge," he said, not having to point to it. "You will learn to meditate and control your fear until you can sit on that edge comfortably."

Oh no.

"Are you ready?” He asked.

“No…”

“Good.” It was like he heard you say ‘yes’ instead. You groaned and he slipped his hat back on his head and secured the strap under his chin. “Sit with your legs crossed. Like Buddah.”

You moved your legs, sitting as you knew ‘criss-cross applesauce,’ but Buddah style did sound more mature.

“Close your eyes, straighten your back, and rest your hands on your knees.”

You did, but felt him close in on you, then his hand on your shoulder. Goosebumps again. A knot in your stomach. Grip firm, he pulled you back slightly, straightening you out more. You opened one eye to glance up at him, seeing a focused look to his eyes as he critiqued your posture silently. His eyes then shifted to your open one.

“Close your eyes,” he repeated. That impatient tone returned.

You did. You felt him step away.

“What do you see?”

“What?” Your eyes were closed. You saw nothing! What kind of question was—

“What do you see?”

“Nothing,” You said in annoyance.

“Do you see the ledge?”

You hesitated. “No.”

“It’s about seventy feet away from you.”

Your jaw stiffened.

“The drop is miles deep.”

Your fingers curled into your knees.

“If you'd fall off, you’d die.”

You took a shaky breath as panic began building in the pit of your stomach. That’s when you remembered you didn’t have your anxiety medication here… wherever here was.

“These are facts. There is nothing you can do about them.”

Now came that helpless feeling.

“Relax.”

You couldn’t. The images of the ravine, the ledge, and you falling to your death were flashing in your mind.

“Relax,” Lao repeated and you could feel him come closer again.

“I can’t,” You admitted.

“You can.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Stop thinking about it.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I can’t.” Your tone became defiant. You could feel a presence circle you slowly.

“Focus on the sand under you. The wind as it blows around you. My voice. You are not falling. You are sitting on the ground. Safe.”

You tried. You really did. But the ledge had its grip on your attention.

“What are you doing?”

“Freaking out…”

“What are you doing?”

You hesitated. “Sitting in the sand.”

“Are you falling?”

“No.”

“Are you going to fall?”

“No.”

“Breathe.”

You took a hard, deep breath.

“Feel the air fill your lungs then leave as you slowly exhale. Feel your chest expand and contract. Focus on what’s real.”

You took another breath, and did your best to breathe out slowly. It still shook.

“Keep going until I tell you to stop.”

You took another breath. You kept taking breaths. You kept trying to focus on the air and your chest, and not the death trap this arena was with an open ledge into the ravine. Would you even feel it when you hit the bottom? Or would you die in mid-fall?

Lao tapped your shoulder. “Focus.” He must have noticed. You weren’t sure how long it’d been. You’d gotten tapped, reminded, and straightened several times. But by now, your breath wasn’t shaking anymore. You could swear your lungs had grown. Your breaths were deeper as you fought to focus. You could even feel the heat of the rising sun kiss your face and arms. Eventually, the ledge faded away from your mind and Kung Lao told you to stop.

“Open your eyes.”

You did. A blue-ish hue tinted the world as your eyes adjusted to the light.

“Relax.”

You let your back slouch again and stretched your fingers out.

“How do you feel?”

“Stiff.” You cracked your knuckles and rolled your shoulders and neck.

“Get up. Stretch.”

You rose to your feet and rubbed your face. Turning around to face him, you stretched your arms behind your head. He was sitting on the steps leading to the sand pit, leaning back against a pillar, very much relaxed as he watched you. You had been out here in the middle of the arena all by yourself. For how long, you weren’t sure. Turning back around, you looked out at the ravine.

“Scared?” Lao asked, not moving from the steps.

Weirdly, not so much. “Not as much…”

“Good. Tomorrow morning you will be a step closer. We’ll do this again.”

“Until I’m out there…” You looked at the very edge and imagined sitting there, knees almost hanging off the ledge, alone… What if a strong wind blew you over? What if he tried to straighten you up but accidentally pushed you? Oh, there was that panic again. You turned away, breath starting to shake again as you hurried towards the safety of the steps.

Lao had watched you. He noticed your breath shake again even from several feet away. You’d almost thrown yourself into another panic. “Breathe,” he coached. “You got a while before you’re there.”

You nodded. He was right. He’d said you were about seventy feet from the edge. If you only took a step closer each day, that meant it was about sixty days away. Give or take. Okay. Two months. Two months sounded do-able. You pulled your shoulders back tight. Your upper spine cracked and popped with tension. You’d feel better once you got away from here.

“Thirsty?”

You looked over to him and he pointed up the stairs. Following his gesture, you found a clay pitcher and cups on a table. You’d forgotten just how thirsty you were, and now your throat felt sore.

After climbing the steps, you poured yourself some water and felt it rush all the way down to your empty stomach.

“You’re horrible at meditation,” Lao said, breaking the silence.

You looked back at him.

He just grinned at you.

You rolled your eyes and turned away. Of course you were horrible at it. It was your first time and you were in the middle of a panic attack. Breakfast. Finally. Lao sat in his usual spot at the table. You sat across from him and looked at the array of food already set out. It was mostly vegetables and proteins… though no actual meat. Right, you thought. Monks. Monks were vegetarians weren’t they? Well… At least there were some eggs. You reached for the simple white rice to start off your plate.

“Take it easy on the rice,” Lao ordered, which made you look up to him with confusion. “Focus on vegetables and protein. You need to get into shape.”

Did he just call you fat? You glared at him, but it did nothing to move the critical look from his face. With an annoyed sigh, you slid some of the rice off your plate and back into the bowl. You looked back to him, as if to ask for some much unwanted approval. He nodded. You then filled your plate with vegetables and poached eggs. You didn’t care much for tofu or beans, so you ignored them.

“I’d kill for some pancakes,” you unknowingly whispered under your breath.

“If you kill Shang Tsung, I’ll get you all the pancakes you want,” Lao said, jarring you.

“Oh... Didn’t mean to say that out loud,” You admitted sheepishly.

“Offer still stands.”

You glanced to him and couldn’t help the grin that pulled your lips. Hearing the door open, your smile faded and you turned to look behind you. Liu Kang had walked in, flushed, face and arms glistening with sweat. He offered you a smile before sitting next to you.

“Good morning,” He said, not wasting time in filling his plate.

“‘Morning,” You greeted and watched him fill his plate with rice and beans. A bit of vegetables.

You looked back to Lao with furrowed brows. How come Liu could eat all the carbs?

Lao noticed your fuss. He pointed his chopsticks at Liu, but looked at you. “He needs the energy.”

Liu, lost, looked up, then to you, then back to Lao.

“I told her to take it easy on the rice,” Lao explained.

“Ah,” Liu nodded. The gentleman that he was, he didn’t comment on your weight, but you felt it. Okay, you weren’t in the best shape. You didn’t have the six or eight packs you figured they had. But you weren’t fat… Right?

You looked down at your stomach, hidden under the baggy gi, and folded an arm over it tightly in a futile effort to hide it.

“Being a nurse, I’d think you’d know about nutrition,” Lao judged, mouth full.

You huffed. You got it. You were fat. Okay. Shut up, Lao. “Being a nurse, I hardly have the time to cook for myself,” You defended.

“Lucky for you, you don’t have to cook here. The monks will. Shouldn’t be an issue anymore. No excuses,” Lao said.

“Yeah… Lucky me,” You said, still annoyed. You began to eat, starting with the vegetables.

Liu, again being the saint he was, had decided to change the subject. “How was morning meditation?”

When you didn’t say anything, Lao answered for you. “Fine.”

That caught you off guard. Fine? He told you you were horrible!

“Really?” Liu’s interest was piqued.

“Her posture needs work, and her mind isn’t yet disciplined enough. But she did fine.”

“That’s great.” Liu looked to you.

You bit your tongue, but couldn’t hold it. “You said I was horrible,” you said to Lao.

Lao grinned and filled his mouth with food.

What was this? A give and take? Or take and give? Tell you you’re horrible, then say you were fine?

“I’m sure he was only kidding,” Liu suggested.

“Was I?” Lao questioned with an inflection, which earned him a stern look from Liu. Lao’s grin only grew.

Liu sighed in accepted defeat. “How did you sleep, Y/N?”

“Awful,” you answered quickly.

“Oh?” Liu frowned.

“Yeah.”

“Anxiety?” Liu asked.

You nodded. “And nightmares. And it wasn’t my bed. Always takes me a while to get used to a new bed.”

“Well, yesterday must have been stressful enough,” Liu reasoned.

“Bit of an understatement,” You mumbled before filling your mouth.

“Did you decide if you were going to stay?”

Lao answered before you could swallow. “She’s staying.”

Liu looked so relieved to hear that, but looked back to you for confirmation. “Is that true?”

You nodded.

A smile came to his face, the smile you liked. So sincere. So real. “Thank you.”

You looked to your food. You didn't feel much like talking anymore as thoughts raced through your mind. Now it was concrete. You were staying. You were crazy, but you were staying. Liu was training you now. This was a different arena. It had a view, but the walls were high enough that you didn’t mind. Still sand on the ground, it looked like a smaller version of the colosseum… but without the thousands of seats surrounding you, and more oblong. A huge statue of Raiden sat off to the side, just outside the arena, in a fighting stance seeming to watch your every move. On the other side, some other statue, ready to fight Raiden. You quickly realised they were two parts of a monument. Some fight that had happened. Who won, you wondered.

“Time to test your might,” Liu said.

“What?” you turned away from the statues to look at him.

“Have you ever had lessons in self defense?”

“Uh. No. Not really. Remember? No experience.”

He nodded and walked over to you. So you were starting at square one. He could handle that. “Try and hit me,” He told you.

“What? No.” You stared at him as if he was crazy.

“The best way to learn is to practice. And the best way for me to gauge just what you can do is for you to try and hit me.”

“I’m not going to hit you, Liu.”

“And what do you intend to do when Mortal Kombat begins?”

Okay. You had to admit. He had you there. You wouldn’t be much use if you couldn’t fight. You sighed in your defeat and looked him over. He took no particular stance. He just stood there, eyes locked on you.

Okay. You could do this. Not like you could hurt him. You doubted you could hit that hard anyway. Without much warning, you swung a fist. Unsurprising, he dodged it easily. You swung again. He dodged. You tried a kick. He blocked. You still weren’t surprised, but after a few more attempts, you were getting annoyed.

“I can’t hit you if you keep moving,” You hissed.

“Do you expect Shang Tsung’s fighters to just stand still and let you hit them?”

Again, he had a point. You kept trying. You kept failing.

“Keep going,” Liu coached gently as he gracefully dodged your futile attacks.

You took turns pushing each other across the sand pit. You would push him to one end, then he would take the offensive, and you would dodge, backing you up to the other end. You knew he wasn’t really trying, he hadn’t even broken a sweat while you were sure you dripping. Eventually you stopped. You walked away and gave him a ‘time-out’ sign as you leaned back against a wall. Heavy breath after heavy breath came out of you. You really were out of shape. Fuck it. You gestured your forfeit vaguely as Liu walked towards you.

“Not bad,” He offered.

A single, exhausted, “Ha!” escaped you. Yeah right. You were awful.

“You’ll get better.”

“Maybe in a hundred years,” you only half joked.

“If you stay determined,” He joked back. It earned him another laugh from you and he smiled in that small victory. “Between myself and Lao, you’ll be in shape within a few months.”

“If you two don’t kill me in the process.” Again, only a half joke.

“I assure you, we will not kill you,” He said, that sincerity in his voice. “However, you may feel as though we have.” That wasn’t a joke.

You groaned. You already felt that. “Can I just go back to meditating? I can handle that.”

“I think you deserve a small rest. We can meditate until your breathing comes down,” He’d accepted and gracefully fell to the sand. His legs went into the Buddah-like position, but instead of his hands on his knees, he held one up as if to pray and the other gripped the prayer beads that hung from his wrist.

You slid down the wall and positioned your legs. Your hands went to your knees, and you leaned on them. Liu didn’t seem to mind that your posture wasn’t correct, and you were thankful for it. You just allowed yourself to relax and closed your eyes.

Alright, you thought. You remembered what Lao had told you only a few hours earlier. Focus on what’s real. The sand. The wind. The air in your lungs. Breathe. And you did. You focused on all of it… Which quickly backfired.

Okay. Focus on one thing. You focused on the air. It was so dry. It was dry earlier too, but you’d forgotten during breakfast. Were you in a desert? The Sahara? Would explain the quietness of the place. And come to think of it, you hadn’t even seen a plane in the sky since you got here. Where did the water you’d been drinking come from? It had to come from somewhere. The ground? Maybe there was a well here. Where? But wait, you had a bathroom in your room. It didn’t have a tub or shower, but the toilet and sink did work. Was there plumbing? There had to be if the sink and toilet worked.

“Your mind is wandering,” Liu said softly, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah,” You answered, keeping your eyes closed. You straightened up. “Sorry.”

“What were you thinking about?” He asked curiously.

“Nothing. It’s fine. Sorry.”

“Tell me,” he pushed gently.

You breathed a laugh nervously. Well, if he insisted... “Just wondering if there was plumbing in this place.”

Liu didn’t say anything for a good minute, which prompted a knot to build in your stomach. God, you were stupid.

Then you heard a soft laugh. You opened your eyes to see Liu chuckling to himself. That knot melted away along with some tension in your shoulders. You smiled, then shared in the laugh. @miss-nori85

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #liu kang #kung lao #raiden #reader insert #fanfic #fic #reader x character #ludi lin #max huang #tadanobu asano #new beginnings

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plaidbooks · 4 years ago

Note

Could you do an imagine of having a fling with Carisi and getting pregnant?

Fling

A/N: Hey Anon! Heck yes I can do that! Remember peeps, if you’re gonna have a ONS, be safe about it! Hope you enjoy

Tags: alcohol and bad decisions, mentions of smut, mentions of vomiting

Words: 1726

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles

It had been…a long day. You were the owner of a coffee shop that doubled as a bookstore, and three employees had up and quit on you. You had scrambled to find replacements, and while the new kids were working out well, they were still new, and needed a lot of handholding. So, on Saturday night, with the shop closed on Sundays, you went to the bar, hoping to just drink until you could forget about your worries for a little bit. What you weren’t expecting was for the ridiculously cute man, his suit jacket over the back of his chair and his sleeves rolled up, to buy you a drink. You were already pretty drunk, your inhibitions low, so you chatted with the stranger, who also seemed pretty far gone.

“Why don’t we take this party back to my place?” you eventually asked, and he agreed, a lopsided smirk on his face, his bright blue eyes clouded with alcohol.

In the back of the cab, you had drunkenly kissed him, and he kissed you back, both of you exploring each other’s bodies with your hands. Pulling up at your place, you dragged him inside. Once the door was closed, he had pushed you up against the wall, his mouth biting and sucking at your neck. You grabbed at his gelled hair, pulling soft groans from him as he marked you. You both eventually made it to the bedroom, naked, and you pulled him on top of you as you collapsed onto the bed.

“Fuck me—give me all you got,” you purred at him, and he growled, shoving himself into you roughly. You moaned as he thrusted into you hard and deep. When you came, clenching around him, he was right behind you, spilling his release deep within you. You passed out soon after that, his arms draped over you.

*******************

When you awoke, the man was already gone, leaving no trace of himself behind, except the marks on your neck and a small, handwritten note on your bedside table.

Last night was incredible. Sorry I left so quickly—I had work. Maybe we can do dinner sometime? – Sonny

He had written his number after his name, and while the sex—from what you remembered—was great, you really didn’t want a relationship right now. It was just a fling, a one-night stand. So, you crumpled up his note and threw it away before getting in the shower.

******************

The new employees were finally settling in, and life was getting back to normal. Though, you were still stressed with everything going on—it was the summer months, which meant tourists, which meant business. And while you were grateful for the profits you were bringing in, you really needed to hire on some extra help. You vaguely noticed that your period was late, but that was probably from the stress—it had happened before. Besides, you didn’t remember when you had it last month, so you weren’t positive how late you were, really.

You decided to sleep early that night—you had so many interviews the next day. So, setting an alarm for 6am, you went to bed, hoping for a full night’s sleep. But you tossed and turned all night, your stomach killing you. At 3am, you got up, sprinting to your bathroom, barely making it before you puked your guts out. Oh God, you could not afford to be sick at a time like this. You couldn’t sleep after that, still feeling nauseous, and vomiting once more after eating a light breakfast. Groaning in pain, you sent a mass message to all your potential employees, asking for them to please reschedule, and then you called your doctor.

“When was the last time you had your period?” she had asked, running an ultrasound.

You shook your head. “I don’t know, last month? I’ve been…too busy. I honestly don’t remember….”

She put the machine down, letting the nurse start disinfecting it. She gave you a small smile. “Well, you’re pregnant.”

“I-what? But…but I haven’t had…” you trailed off, remembering the drunken night in the bar, the man you had taken home. You didn’t even remember his name, let alone the phone number he had scrawled underneath his message. And that was weeks ago! That paper was long gone.

The doctor nodded knowingly. “You’re about six weeks along. Come back to the examination room; I’ll give you pamphlets, answer any questions you have.” You nodded, hopping of the ultrasound table, being extra careful now—you had life inside you!

****************

The doctor had talked for you for upwards of an hour; you wanted to keep the baby, that was definite. But how would you make time for it? Pay for it? You were so conflicted, so incredibly happy yet so incredibly stressed, lost. You had family you could talk to, and you were sure they’d help you, too. But you were going to be a single mother. You struggled to remember the man’s name; it was something light and fun. Benny? Sammy? That wasn’t right. You didn’t even know what he did for a living; hell, you vaguely remembered what he looked like. Gelled hair, tall, blue eyes.

And besides, what was the point of finding him? Did you think he’d want to be apart of this? Or would he laugh in your face and run, determined to not have to pay child support? Giving up on the idea, you decided to just do this on your own—outside help from family and nurses, of course.

***************

Six months later, you were well into your pregnancy, your belly swelling in front of you. Jury summons clutched in your hand, you waddled your way into the courthouse. You couldn’t be a juror at this time, but when you had tried to call the number on the paper, it kept saying disconnected. So now, here you were, pissed and exhausted, making your way to whoever could postpone your summons until after you gave birth.

“Here, lemme get that door for you,” a man’s voice said. He rushed in front of you, holding the door open and you froze, staring at him. He furrowed his brow at you, scanning your face in confusion—not because you had stopped moving, but because there was the faintest hint of recognition. “Have we, uh, have we met before?” he asked.

Gelled hair, tall, blue eyes. He was obviously a lawyer, coming to work. But how were you going to bring this up to him? “Ah, no, sorry sir. Thank you for the door,” you muttered, shuffling past him.

He watched you walk by him, then fell into step next to you, easily keeping pace with his long legs. “Are you sure? You look so familiar….”

“Positive. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find where I can postpone my jury summons,” you replied, your voice flat.

He stopped in his tracks, letting you walk away, and you let out a sigh. But you didn’t make it far before he shouted, “wait!” He jogged after you, catching up quickly. He grabbed your elbow, leading you away from the crowded hall. He dropped his voice. “Did we…meet at a bar? This would’ve been months ago—I understand if you’ve forgotten me.”

He really didn’t get it, did he? “Yes, we did.”

The man nodded, his forehead crinkled as he thought. “I’m not gonna lie; I was a little sad when you didn’t call,” he joked. “But I’m glad to see you’re doing well, and that you found someone.”

His smile was so genuine, so sincere…he really didn’t get it! He figured you didn’t like him, that you had found someone else, settled down. “Uh, thanks. I’m still painfully single though,” you replied, forcing a smile.

You turned to walk away, leaving him stunned. Following the signs, you quickly found your way to the window you needed, negotiating a new date in another six months for your jury duty. Having that taken care of, you made your way out of the bowels of the courthouse. You had almost made it to the front doors when the man from the bar had tracked you down once more.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I-I have to know….” His voice dropped to a whisper, “is it…mine?” His bright blue eyes flickered to your belly, then back to your face.

You could’ve said no, denied it and spared him. But something must have shown on your face, because his eyes filled with such sadness, such regret. So, you had no choice but to say, “yes, it’s yours.”

He took a shuttering breath, looking like he was on the verge of tears. “I…I’m so sorry. I-I should’ve used a condom.” He ran a hand through his hair, tears really springing up in his eyes now. “Fuck, I’m such an asshole.”

“Look,” you said, trying to stop his self-hating streak. “It takes two to make a baby, okay? I’m…just as irresponsible as you.” That made him let out a soft sob, and you switched to trying to make him feel better. “I’m not due for another two-ish months; why don’t we…I don’t know, get dinner one night? I mean…if you want—”

“Yes, please,” he replied. “I…I want to be in my baby’s life, no matter what happens between you and I. Please.”

He was desperate, and it was hard to say no. But you also needed to know him first. “Okay. Let’s start slow, get to know each other. We can figure out everything else later.”

He nodded. “Why—why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asked. He didn’t sound mad, just confused, wondering why you would choose to keep this from him, to do this on your own.

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. “I, uh, threw out your note and I’ve…forgotten your name. I had no way to find you. And besides, I was…afraid you’d be upset about it, afraid you’d ask me to t-terminate—”

His eyes went wide, “no, I would never!” He took a deep, shuttering breath. “Let’s…let’s start over.” He held his hand out to you. “My name is Dominick Carisi, but you can call me Sonny.”

Smiling, you took his hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Sonny. Now, if you don’t mind, my feet are killing me, and I need to sit before my legs collapse.”

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #Anonymous

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primatechnosynthpop · 3 years ago

Text

Wow! Against all odds, I finally got around to actually writing the follow-up to I'm Gonna Be The Anti-Hero that's existed exclusively in my head for months! Well uh here it is :3

---

The secret underground room beneath Plymouth rock was dark and silent as always, save for the faint dripping of water through a crack in the ceiling. It figured that, after living there for countless centuries, the structural integrity would finally begin to erode. That dripping sound, although highly irritating when it first started a month or so ago, had now settled into background noise which John Smith paid no attention to. He was a pilgrim, not a witch; it wasn't like the water could hurt him.

Then again, he realized a few moments too late one rainy spring day, perhaps he should have reevaluated that statement. He was minding his own business sitting in his chair and reminiscing about the very old days (that was the only thing he could really do anymore, slowly decaying as his body was) when the soft and steady dripping suddenly escalated at an exponential rate into what sounded like a small waterfall. He turned his head to see a semi-transparent humanoid figure taking shape out of the water pooling in the corner--strangely tinted red, as though the water were mixed with blood. As the old pilgrim watched, jaw agape, the figure strode purposefully toward him, taking on a more solid form as it did so.

"What are you doing here, intruder?" John Smith demanded, one hand tightening around the hilt of his sword while his other hand reached behind his back to fumble for his musket.

"This secret underground room isn't government sanctioned," the stranger hissed. (Although... was he a stranger? John Smith somehow felt that he'd seen this youngster once before, but he couldn't quite place where or when.) "And you have no official identification registering you as a legal citizen. Not to mention, you haven't been paying taxes... disgraceful."

Before John Smith had the chance to concoct a retort or draw either of his weapons, the masked man's hands were around his throat and crushing his windpipe with a force that could only be driven by an inhuman amount of bloodlust. And within seconds, the life of a pilgrim that had been extended for centuries past its expiration date was finally put to an end.

"I can't believe they want us to make a clown movie at a time like this."

"I can believe it," Neil replied without looking up from the shopping list in his hand. "The studio wants a lot from us, remember? They're not going to care how sad we are. Anyway, it's been four months--" The emotions bubbling up within him refused to let his voice stay level, so he gritted his teeth and hissed out the rest of his sentence rather than let himself start crying in the middle of the dollar store. "We should be over it by now."

"Neil..." Kevin began in the way he'd often addressed Neil over the past few months--brow furrowed, voice edged with an obvious and vaguely patronizing concern--only to trail off and shake his head with a sigh. Apparently he'd finally given up on trying to make Neil feel better, which was just fine by him, because things are never gonna go back to the way they were before and it's my fault and I don't deserve to feel good about it.

"Anyway, we've got what we came for," Neil muttered, waving his hand in the general direction of Kevin's shopping basket without looking him in the eyes. "Let's go."

At the checkout counter, the cashier frowned and shook her head when Neil offered her a five-dollar bill. "Sorry," she told them, "But all this is going to cost $29.99."

"What? But we don't have that kind of money!" Neil lamented. "And we got this stuff from the clearance section... plus this is the dollar store, so shouldn't everything just cost a dollar?"

For a visual aid as he spoke, he grabbed one of the items they were ringing up--a bargain pack of multicoloured clown wigs--and shook it in the cashier's face. Apparently unmoved by his bargaining, she pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

"Maybe you should have checked the price tags first, sir."

"Huh? But, but..." Neil trailed off when he looked down at the price tag on the item in his hands. The bright orange tag had the original price, $7.50, crossed out and replaced with $2.35... but then below that, scribbled in tiny and barely legible font, it read "just kidding, it's actually eleven dollars now." "Aw, man," he groaned, tossing the pack down on the conveyor belt and sticking his hands in his pockets. "Just our luck."

Kevin had a thoughtful look in his eyes while he drove them home empty-handed. When he pulled up outside the clubhouse a few minutes later and they climbed out of the truck, he suddenly laid a hand on Neil's shoulder.

"Say, Neil, let's not get discouraged," he said. "I've got another idea for how we could get our hands on some props."

"Really?" Neil asked, perking up despite himself. "How?"

"Well, I think--" Kevin broke off as unexpectedly as he'd started, encouraging smile briefly dipping into a grimace. "...You know what, I'll take care of it myself. You can hold down the fort here, okay? I won't be long."

Neil's brow furrowed. "Okay, but what are you...?"

Without explaining himself any further, Kevin clapped him firmly on the back, hopped back into his truck, and drove off. Neil watched him recede down the road with bewilderment. Being all secretive like that wasn't like Kevin... Unless he's trying to protect me from something, he realized with a twinge of bitterness. That would be just like him, the way things had been recently. Ever since the past winter, and what had happened with Ryan, Kevin's latent big-brother-ish tendencies had escalated; now he watched over Neil like a hawk and freaked out every time he so much as stubbed his toe. Under different circumstances Neil would have relished being fussed over, but now it was more annoying than anything else. The thing was, he didn't deserve it. If anything... his fingers strayed up to absentmindedly fidget with the four-leaf clover pinned to his shirt. I deserve to have bad luck. I deserve to suffer, after what I did to Ryan.

Still, there wasn't much he could do about it now, and he wasn't going to say no to having the clubhouse to himself for a while. With a sigh, he disentangled his fingers from the clover's leaves, ran a hand through his overgrown bangs, and turned to head inside. Maybe he could play cards or something to pass the time.

A thick layer of dust had settled over everything in Ryan's house. That made sense, of course. It had been four months--no, five, since Ryan hadn't come home once while he was being a vigilante--since anyone had set foot there. Even so, Kevin was unprepared for the full-scale assault on his lungs when he opened the door, and promptly broke into a coughing fit.

"Man, good thing Neil stayed home," he thought aloud as he batted thick, swirling clouds of dust and spiderwebs out of his face. "The way things have been going for him lately..."

He'd probably choke to death on all this dust, he thought but didn't say aloud, and then felt bad for thinking it in the first place. Kevin didn't understand what had happened to Neil in the course of the past few days, but ever since picking up that clover, he seemed to be having a run of uncharacteristically bad luck. Whether it was random chance or something more suspicious was afoot, it sure wasn't doing much for his already thoroughly frayed nerves.

"Alright, calm down, James," he muttered to himself, shaking his head to clear his thoughts and ideally dispel the rest of the dust. "Focus. Concentrate. What are you here for? Props for your webisode. Right."

Keeping that objective in mind, he made his way past the front entrance and into the living room. There, a few objects were strewn around that caught his eye: a mannequin bust wearing a colourful wig; an eccentrically patterned jacket draped over a chair; a brush dipped into a rusted metal container filled with what he hoped was red paint. After looking around a little more he found a large cardboard box filled with mutilated stuffed animals, which he mostly emptied out and started filling with the useful items he came across.

All the while, a persistent feeling of unease stirred in his gut, becoming increasingly hard to ignore with each belonging of Ryan's he packed away. This is wrong. I shouldn't steal from him. Kevin paused and looked down at the box in his arms with a frown. One of the items sticking out the top, a blank-faced doll head, seemed to stare accusingly back at him. For a moment he saw it not as a plastic figure, but as a human form encased in ice and then broken apart. He blinked and the illusion quickly vanished, but an unsettling feeling remained in its wake. Neil was right; it had been months already. So why did going through Ryan's things make him feel so dirty? Ryan didn't need any of this stuff anymore. He was gone. Wasn't he?

With a weary sigh that, had anyone been around to ask, he would have accredited to the physical exertion of carrying heavy stuff around, Kevin set the box down and stepped back to survey the room he was in now. If he remembered right, this kind of room was called a study--there was an armchair with a few suspicious stains lurking beneath the dust, a desk strewn with papers all scrawled full of nonsense like the ravings of a mad scientist, and an ornate bookshelf. He wandered over to the latter furniture piece and ran his hands along the spines of the books, letting their leathery texture ground him in the present. He noticed several unusual bibles and other ancient texts, and a stash of calendars, some of which he was pretty sure had originally belonged to him or Neil; the up-to-date calendars and one of the more normal-looking bibles went into the box, while he decided everything else was better left where it was.

There was one other set of books he recognized: a teen fantasy series that Neil had often gushed about. Thinking back to the previous fall and all the events he normally tried not to think about, he experimentally lifted one of the fantasy books off the shelf. At once, just as he remembered from when Neil showed him, the bookshelf rumbled to the side and revealed a narrow staircase descending into the basement.

If anyone asked him, Kevin couldn't really say what compelled him to go down those stairs. The secret chamber was as empty as he remembered, with nothing down there that could possibly be of use for the webisode. And without a lantern, he could barely even see the only things that were there to speak of: the paintings of Ryan's ancestors.

"Ryan..." The name manifested on Kevin's lips unexpectedly as he stared, squinting through the dust and darkness, at the row of portraits grinning lopsidedly back at him. He knew the paintings couldn't hear him--hell, they weren't even paintings of Ryan himself, just his relatives. But their faces were practically identical to him, that face he hadn't seen in person for nearly half a year, and that alone was enough to clog up his throat with unbearable emotions.

The thought of It's a good thing Neil isn't here for this surfaced again, and this time Kevin had to agree with himself. Losing a close friend was... well, there was no way not to take it hard. But Neil seemed to have taken it particularly hard, even blaming himself, to the point where any mention of Ryan would immediately send him straight back into a depressive spiral no matter how happy he'd been a moment earlier. That was why Kevin had kept this idea a secret from his friend in the first place--that, and he wasn't sure if it was going to pan out and didn't want to get Neil's hopes up. He figured that if Neil asked where he got all the stuff he'd found, he'd just say it was from a garage sale.

Now, looking into the achingly familiar manic blue eyes of those portraits mounted on the wall, Kevin thought of those news reports about the mysterious killings that had been going on around town. If that really was Ryan, and he was somehow still alive...

"Why?" he whispered. Without really thinking, he reached out and pressed his hand against the painting as if to cup its cheek. "Why haven't you come home, Ryan? Where are you?"

The target was at home, alone in her bedroom playing video games. Casual, unbothered by any harm her actions may have caused. Shameful. In an icy swirl of perhaps not-so-righteous fury, the vigilante took form in the corner of her room and crept up behind her. With an average build and no weapons at the ready, she would be no trouble to dispose of.

"Playing dead in order to toy with an innocent man's feelings," he growled. "Some people would call it ghosting. I call it a crime punishable by death."

"Jesus christ, what the fuck?!" Wendy yelped as she spun to face the vigilante. "How'd you get in here?"

"You shouldn't worry about that," he told her, gloved hands already flexing in anticipation of tightening around her neck. Or perhaps this time he'd thrust his hand straight through her chest and rip out her heart--an appropriate punishment for her crimes. "You'll have plenty of time to figure it out once I send you to hell."

"Okay, seriously? What is happening here?" Eyes narrowed, Wendy put her game on pause and got to her feet to stare the vigilante down. "You said something about me playing dead..." Her eyes suddenly widened with recognition, and the vigilante waited for the fear to set in along with it, but instead she shook her head and laughed. A pitying laugh. "Wait, you're not friends with that, uh, that filmmaker guy, are you? Geez, I seriously must have dodged a bullet there."

"Filmmaker..." the vigilante murmured as the word echoed in his mind. Yes, that's right. The man she stood up was a filmmaker... of a sort. (How did he know that? How did he even know who this woman was? Those questions weren't worth dwelling on, he decided.) "You may have thought you dodged a bullet back then, but I'm here to see that the bullet circles back around and destroys you like you deserve."

Wendy crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow, any trace of fear on her face outmatched by her sad, pitying smile. "Sure, keep the edgy sayings coming, Mr. Hot Topic. And what's with the getup, anyway?" she added with a nod to the vigilante's predominantly dark outfit. "Must be kinda warm."

Warm? The vigilante snorted derisively. No, of course he wasn't too warm. His blood, as it always had for as far back as he could clearly remember, ran cold like that of a snake. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been warm. And he certainly couldn't remember a time when he'd worn anything other than his current ensemble. Rather than waste time telling this insufferable woman as much, though, he simply took a few purposeful strides to close the distance between them, hands extended and more than ready to kill.

"Ugh, get away from me, creep!"

In a startlingly swift motion, Wendy's leg shot out and connected with the vigilante's ankles, sending him toppling to the floor. He hissed in irration, though not in pain--when his sensations were already perpetually numb, it would take a lot more than that to hurt him--and got to his feet, dusting himself off with a scowl. In the few seconds this took, Wendy grabbed a baseball bat from the corner of the room. Now she stood brandishing it in perfect athletic form with a battle-ready glint in her eye.

"Not another step, you hear me?" When the vigilante didn't dignify her with a response, she gritted her teeth and gave the bat a twirl--attempting to show off, it seemed, but her hands shook slightly and she nearly dropped the bat, only barely managing to regain her grip on it. "My mom is in the other room right now, and... well, she hasn't done anything wrong, so you don't want to punish her, right? And if anything happens to me..."

He stiffened at Wendy's mention of her mother. An innocent citizen? That was the type of person a vigilante was meant to protect at all costs; otherwise vigilante justice was no better than the police. But no one is innocent in this city. Even so, he understood the implicit threat--not that Wendy's mother would bring him down herself, but that either woman could very well call the police. And the last thing he wanted was to get law enforcement involved.

"...Fine," he snarled at last, turning on his heel with a twirl of his vigilante cape. "You can live a while longer. But I'll be back, and then you'll regret your sins."

He heard her gasp but didn't bother sparing her another glance as he let his form dissolve into a splash of red-tinted ice, sinking through her floorboards and off to thwart another criminal.

Slowly and carefully as a technician deactivating a bomb, Neil set the three of spades down across the top of the three other cards he'd lined up on the table. The humble beginnings of a tower stood for a moment, and he held his breath eagerly as he reached for another card to place on top, only for it to suddenly shudder and collapse like an anime girl who'd stood in the rain for too long.

"Dang it!" Neil threw his hands in the air in exasperation. When he did, a droplet of his own blood landed on his glasses, and he realized with a start that his hand was bleeding--just a paper cut, but still, he'd better wash up.

As he ran his hand under cold water, transfixed by the sight of the blood swirling down the drain, a sudden cracking noise rang out just above him. His head snapped up to stare at the spontaneously cracked bathroom mirror. His reflection stared back, stricken and gaunt, as shards of shattered glass rained down into the sink, where they mixed with the water and the blood. Neil shivered, his breath quickening.

Icy water... ice, blood, broken mirrors. All mixed together. Shattered. Blood, guts, ice, mixed together, down the drain. My fault my fault my fault my fault--

"No," he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and digging his nails into his scalp as hard as he could. "No! I didn't do it, I didn't... I didn't mean to..."

Deep breaths, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. It sounded like Kevin's voice, worried to the point of being slightly patronizing. Neil grimaced, annoyed at his own brain for manifesting its self-preservation in such a way, but he complied nonetheless. Keeping his eyes wrenched shut, he took several deep breaths in and out until his heartbeat slowed to normal--he hadn't even noticed it speeding up--and his hands didn't shake when he lowered them away from his head.

"Hey, you know what'd really make me feel better?" he said aloud to nobody in particular, putting on a broad smile and wiping his hands off on a towel. "A nice hot bath! Yep, that'll counteract my blood running cold, alright..."

He ran his hands up and down his arms as he spoke, although he didn't know who he was trying to fool; the chill that had settled into his bones had nothing to do with the temperature. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure who this whole performance of forced cheerfulness was meant for... the studio, maybe. He wouldn't put it past them to hide cameras everywhere. Either way, even if it wouldn't fix his psychological issues, a bath really would be pretty nice. He put the plug in and started running the tub, with the water temperature set just hot enough that it would scald him a little at first.

He wasn't sure exactly what happened when he sat down on the edge of the tub to take his socks off, whether he slipped on something or leaned too far back or what, but suddenly he lost balance. And by the time he realized he was falling backward, he only had a split-second to curse his rotten luck before his head connected with the wall and he blacked out.

In the end, Kevin managed to get a pretty good haul from Ryan's house. In addition to the stuff he and Neil could use for their webisode, he'd retrieved the calendars and a couple other things it looked like Ryan had stolen from them, as well as their old communicator wristwatches. (He wasn't sure if the watches fell into the camp of things Ryan had stolen, or if they'd just brought them over to his place for a sleepover once and forgotten them there. Either way, Kevin figured it could come in handy to start using them again.)

"Hey, Neil," he called as he stepped into the clubhouse with the box in his arms and kicked the door shut behind him. "I'm back."

There was no reply. Frowning, Kevin set the box down with a slight grunt of effort and wandered through the living room and down the hall. There were a few playing cards scattered on the table, suggesting that Neil had been trying to make a house of cards but given up halfway. Kevin couldn't really blame him for that; assembling cards in such a way that they'd actually stay upright was yet another thing that had been more in Ryan's ballpark than in either of theirs. Still, that didn't explain where Neil was now...

"Neil? You there, bud?" Still being met with no answer, Kevin came to a stop outside the bathroom door, which was ajar with water pooling out from inside. "Oh, man, that's not a good sign..."

He gave a tentative knock, and when there was still no response, grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. The sight that met his eyes when he did so immediately made his breath hitch and his blood run cold. The broken mirror over the vanity reflected his slack-jawed expression as he stared at the overflowing bathtub, the pair of still-clothed legs dangling over the rim, and the smudge of blood on the wall leading down to the head of the man those legs belonged to, slumped inside the tub with his head submerged in the water.

"Neil!!"

Kevin sprinted across the room to lift Neil out of the tub. It then took him a few seconds longer to turn off the faucet and pull the plug, as by that point the shock had turned to dread and his hands were shaking. Once the water was slowly starting to drain, he fell to his knees and pulled Neil tight to his chest, one hand clutching at the back of his soaked-through t-shirt while the other fumbled across the back of his head searching for the source of the blood. It didn't take long for him to find the slightly matted patch of damp hair indicating where Neil had banged his head against the wall. Kevin swallowed hard as dread leapt up to claw at his throat. The only question is... how long was he submerged?

"Neil," he whispered, and was almost embarrassed to hear how hoarsely his own voice came out. "Wake up. Please."

No response. Kevin reluctantly pulled back to hold Neil at an arm's length, and shuddered at how limply his friend's body flopped forward. He noticed, with a white-hot jolt of irrational anger, that the four-leaf clover was still in place. Fat lot of good that thing's done for him. He grabbed the clover and crumpled it in his fist, all the while tears pressed against the back of his eyes; he struggled not to let them fall. Damn it... first Ryan, now Neil... What kind of protector was he? What kind of friend?

He slammed his fist, the useless clover still clenched within, against the drenched floor tiles. At that moment, the lightbulb above his head exploded and sent sparking wires raining down around him. As soon as electricity met water, it sent a nasty shock through Kevin's veins; he screamed out of equal parts surprise and pain and scrambled up onto the countertop, which was barely wide enough to support him.

On the floor below, Neil's body convulsed. Then his eyes snapped open and he drew in a gasp that turned into a scream halfway through. Although touching his friend's hand sent the current through his own body for a moment, Kevin was quick to grab him anyway, and he managed to pull Neil safely out of the electrified water and into a fierce embrace. Neil kept shrieking, and he squirmed frantically around, not seeming to recognize his surroundings at first.

"It's alright, Neil," Kevin assured him despite how hard his own heart was pounding. "I've got you."

"Oh..." Neil's body slackened, and he pulled back to blink slowly at Kevin, realization dawning in his eyes. His cheeks coloured with embarrassment and he ducked his head. "Uh, thanks."

Neither of them said anything else, for lack of ability or perhaps willingness to put it into words. After a moment, Kevin realized he was still holding the clover, and he handed it back to Neil, who took it with a dip of his head and a murmur of acknowledgement, and pinned it to his soaking wet t-shirt.

Somehow out of everything in the room, themselves included, that little scrap of plant matter was still intact. And although he wasn't superstitious, that simple fact was what would stick in Kevin's mind for the rest of the day, turning it over until he could only conclude: Yep, there's definitely something weird going on with that thing.

Despite the many months he'd prowled the city, this was the vigilante's first time in the hideout of a proper gang. It looked about the way he expected: dimly lit, no windows, weapons hung up on the wall and cigarette butts littering the floor. The gang members, dressed primarily in leather jackets with a few in denim, lounged in chairs leaning too far back, or on top of tables, or on their motorcycles parked right in the middle of the room. Most of them didn't even notice the vigilante as he approached. They were too caught up chattering and cackling amongst themselves like a nest of overgrown crows. The one gang member who did seem to notice the vigilante from the get-go simply looked up at him with raised eyebrows and addressed him once he got close enough to strike.

"Hey, haven't seen you around before. Looking to join the club?"

"Hardly," he snarled. "This whole place is crawling with criminals."

The whole room broke into laughter at that. The vigilante gritted his teeth, fists clenching at his sides. These people were different from the criminals he'd taken down before; between their numbers and all the weapons they had easy access to, they might just pose a serious threat if he wasn't careful.

"You're the ones, aren't you?" he went on once the laughter had died down and the gang members were all watching him with a mix of bemusement and curiosity. No trace of fear amongst them yet, but that would change... "Throwing bricks at innocent people, even seeking to damage their property. Absolutely detestable."

"Woah, hang on," another of the gang members cut in sharply, reaching for a weapon as they stood. "First off, the whole brick throwing thing was months ago. Second of all, we never did that to innocent people, you know!"

"Yeah!" yet another gang member cut in, pumping her fist in the air. "Only to those losers who blew up our boss!"

...Boss?

The vigilante slowly turned, a deeper chill than normal running down his spine, as a strangely familiar smug cackle echoed from behind him. He came face-to-face with a man in a tank top and baseball cap, sneering at him with his arms crossed. Max. Gulping, the vigilante took a step backward. He's their boss?

(How did he know that name? How had he known Wendy's name either, for that matter? Why, out of all the criminals in the city, did a select few ignite disproportionate resentment within him? He'd dealt with some of these people before, he knew, but when he tried to remember when and how it all just turned to slush in his brain.)

"Yep, those losers got what was coming to 'em," Max said. "Except not really, 'cause they didn't suffer enough. But it's okay, we'll get 'em extra hard next time."

"No..." For reasons he couldn't quite explain, the vigilante's voice shook with equal parts fury and sudden fear. "Don't you dare hurt them."

"Huh?" Max tilted his head, already slightly squinted eyes narrowing further. "Heyyy, wait a minute, aren't you one of--?"

Before he could finish that thought, the vigilante was upon him with a karate chop to the windpipe. It was a more reckless attack than he'd planned, and even as Max stumbled backward coughing, he could hear the rest of the gang grabbing their weapons and running up behind him. But it was fine; the vigilante could take them all on and then some. He could kill any number of people if it was for the sake of defending his friends.

(Friends? Did he have friends? Somehow it felt that he must have, once. But that was strange, because the only thing he could clearly remember himself ever being was a cold-blooded vigilante.)

"Don't you see? Society's the one to blame! It's society's fault that he had no choice but to become this way!"

As Kevin delivered this speech, waving his arms dramatically toward the focus of the scene, Neil spun the video camera around to point it toward himself. Hopefully the studio would think of the disorienting cinematography for this webisode as a bold artistic choice rather than thinking of it as amateurish and embarrassing. He then leapt back, breaking into maniacal laughter with his prop gun raised in the air. Under ideal circumstances, this role might have been better suited to Ryan, but... well, they couldn't stay hung up on him forever; they had a job to do.

"Eh-heh-heh! Thanks to society, I have the urge to kill!" Neil twirled around to show off his clown costume, while just out of frame, Kevin hastily put on a wig and fake mustache. "And now... I'll kill this innocent man, who's different than the guy who was talking a minute ago!"

(It was fascinating--fascinating and dumb--how a broken mirror and a bit of blood could set him off, but something as heavy as a gun in his hand only brought him the faintest twinge of discomfort, easily ignored for the sake of making a webisode. After all, as Kevin had assured him many times over the past few months, it was the gun and its villainous weilder who were to blame for what had happened to Ryan. On an intellectual level Neil knew that was true--and besides, if he hadn't deflected that bullet, all three of them would have died. But knowing that did nothing to redirect when and why the darkness in his brain manifested.)

Now, much to Neil's surprise as he took aim with his prop gun, Kevin shouted "Cut!" and walked across the abandoned lot they were filming in to turn the camera off.

Neil lowered the gun, confused, as his costar removed his costume with that now all-too-familiar look of concern etched across his face. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know... somehow I've just got a bad feeling about this," Kevin muttered. "Maybe try firing into the air a couple times first."

Neil complied, and was met with the expected result from the prop: a couple of clicks indicating an empty chamber. "You worry too much these days, Kev," he said as he fired one more blank into the sky and then lowered the prop again. "It's not a real gun; it can't--"

As he spoke, his finger accidentally pressed the trigger again, and he broke off with a yelp at the sudden burst of pain in his right foot. He dropped the apparently very real gun with a clatter and clutched at his injured appendage, losing his balance in the process. Kevin swore under his breath and rushed forward to catch him. Before his friend could reach him, Neil's other foot came down on a wide crack in the pavement. A chill ran through him, momentarily distracting him from the throbbing pain, but it passed as quickly as it arose without seeming to trigger any effects.

"By god, what's happening to you?" Kevin exclaimed as he grabbed Neil by the shoulders and held him upright. "You've been so unlucky lately, it... it almost seems like a curse."

"A curse?" Neil stiffened, but quickly forced himself to shrug and morphed his grimace into a dismissive eye-roll. "Pfft, what are you talking about? There's no curse! I've just been, y'know, having an off-day..."

"Neil." There was that concerned look again, that almost parental tone of voice, as Kevin stared him down and tightened his grip on Neil's shoulders. "A couple hours ago you almost died, and now... you can tell something weird is going on, right? And, look--" He sighed, gaze darkening. "I don't exactly know how to fix it, but whatever's happening, I can't just sit back and watch you succumb to it. I can't lose you, too, Neil... not after..."

He trailed off with a faint warble in his voice, lowering his head. Neil gulped, a heavy weight surfacing in his chest. It was true; though he hated to admit it, at this point it was hard to deny that he was cursed. And yet, even as his foot throbbed around the spot where the bullet was lodged and his shoe was slowly stained from within by his own blood, it was hard to convince himself that he should accept help. On some level, didn't he deserve this? Wasn't this a fitting comeuppance for getting one of his friends killed?

Yet here was his other friend, clutching at him ever tighter to the point where his grip on Neil's shoulders was nearly as painful as hitting his head or getting mildly electrocuted or shooting himself in the foot. I'm not the only one who lost Ryan, he reminded himself--another thing he knew perfectly well on an intellectual level, but easy to forget in practice. Kevin is hurting too. I shouldn't make him hurt any more.

"Fine, I admit it," he sighed, letting his tensed-up shoulders slump. "I'm unlucky, okay? And if you think it's possible--" He tore the clover off his shirt and glared down at it-- "then we're going to beat this thing."

For as tough as the gang presented themselves, it must have been most of these people's first time in an actual fight. The vigilante swerved to avoid weak punches, clumsy kicks, poor attempts at stabbing. It all blended together after a while, and he stopped thinking of the gang members as individuals; they were just an indistinguishable swarm of insects whose attacks were easily dodged. Unimportant, save for their leader.

The vigilante had Max pinned to the floor now, holding his thrashing form in place with one arm while he brought his other fist down on the ruffian's face, over and over, as hard as he could. Not every blow connected cleanly, and Max had managed to bite him several times already, but that was irrelevant. Criminals must be brought to justice. That was why the vigilante hated these people, wasn't it? Because they were criminals. Yes, what other reason could he have, when this was all he'd ever been?

And then, just as he managed to land a blow to Max's jaw that left him defiantly spitting out blood and a couple of teeth, the vigilante's spine snapped.

It took a moment for him to register what had happened. He just heard a loud crack, and a sharp pain shot through him, and suddenly he couldn't hold his legs in place and collapsed. Max wasted no time taking advantage; he delivered a kick to the vigilante's gut that sent him flying back across the room, where he hit a wall and slumped to the ground, gasping in breathless agony. At once the other gang members closed in on him. Grimacing, the vigilante drew himself up onto his hands and knees, then braced himself against the wall and, with a far greater strain of effort than expected, dragged himself upright. By the time he'd managed to get to his feet, dozens of knives were inches away from him.

Then, to his surprise, Max pushed through to the front of the crowd and held his arms out to hold back his underlings. "Nuh-uh, this one's mine," he told them, sneering as though oblivious to the blood dribbling from between his lips. "I said I'd get him twice tomorrow, and I meant it."

The vigilante flinched as Max took a swipe at him. But rather than a fist connecting with his face, he was met only with the shock of exposure as the bully grabbed his mask and triumphantly yanked it off his face. He was left dumbfounded, blinking, as his vision readjusted to the light.

Wait a minute, I remember--

And then came the punch, square in the nose. Ryan yelped, pressing his gloved hand over his nose to stop the bleeding. When he dodged another punch, his body failed to cooperate and he crashed to the ground again, back aching furiously and heart pounding against his ribcage.

How and why his back had broken, he couldn't say, but one thing was clear: he was horrendously outmatched. Max was saying something now, gloating as he advanced on Ryan with a dagger in his hands, but Ryan couldn't make out the words over the blood rushing in his head. Why on earth had he gotten into a fight like this in the first place? What was he doing? He had to get out of there!

With that thought, yet another thing happened that Ryan didn't entirely understand. (Ryan didn't understand, but the vigilante did. It was one of the few things the vigilante knew: dissolve, reform, enact ruthless vengeance, dissolve again.) His body shuddered, and suddenly he found his solid flesh and bone giving way to a slurry of blood and ice that slipped through the cracks in the floor and disappeared. Then he was formless, freefalling through the dark, or at least that was what it felt like. When he took shape again it felt like dragging himself out of quicksand. Yet when he raised his slowly resolidifying head and looked around, he found himself in the basement of his own home, staring up at the portraits of his ancestors that had started it all.

No. Not started it all. "I had a life before this," he whispered, voice raw with the shock of memory and too many months spent speaking in an inhuman growl. "My name is Ryan, I have a life and a job and friends, I..."

Yes, that's right. Friends. Where were they? He closed his eyes and tried to remember. Each recent memory that took form in his mind was accompanied by a crashing wave of guilt and regret, and soon his body shook and tears pricked at his wrenched-shut eyes. That's right... I became a vigilante, and I teamed up with such a horrible person, let him manipulate me, all because I was too afraid to go back and apologize. And then...

The last thing he remembered, just after the flash of light and shock of paralyzing cold, was the sound of a gunshot, something shattering, and Neil screaming.

"Oh, dear god," Ryan whispered. He raised his head, opening his eyes and lowering his hands from his newly tear-stained face, and sat back on his heels as though worshipping the paintings before him. "What have I become?"

The ropes were just slightly too tight around Neil's limbs to be comfortable; he couldn't resist squirming a little as Kevin laid out the open bible on the end table next to his proton pack and began reading from it.

"Okay, um, let's see... ex-or-ciz-amus te, omnis immunde spiritus..." He squinted at the yellowed, faded pages, biting his lip. "Omni satanica pot-es-tas, omnis incurs--incursio infernalis adversarii... uh..."

"You're doing great," Neil called from his position tied to the bed frame; Kevin gave him a weary smile and thumbs up.

As Kevin continued reciting the verse, occasionally stumbling over a particularly tricky Latin word, the room's temperature eventually dropped a few degrees. Neil shivered, but his heartbeat picked up in excitement. He could feel something stirring in his blood like ripples on a lake, and when the furniture in the room began to quiver, so too did his body in eager anticipation.

"...Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Nunquam draco sit mihi dux..." A chill wind swept through the room; Kevin gritted his teeth, one hand pressing down on the bible to hold its pages in place while he grabbed his proton pack with the other. "Vade retro Satana! Nun-quam-suade mihi vana!"

The furniture rumbled louder. Neil's eyes widened as an entire bookcase lifted off the ground. "Kevin, watch out!"

"Hang on, Neil, I'm almost done. Uh, where was I... sunt mala quae libas..."

"No, Kevin, the--"

"Just one more line, okay? Ipse ven--"

"KEVIN!"

That last terrified yell was what it took for Kevin to finally turn, just in time to see the six-foot block of polished oak fly directly into him. Neil shrieked and thrashed against his bindings with all his might, but even if he weren't tied up, there was nothing he could have done. The bookcase came crashing down, its contents spilling out onto the floor around it in a flurry of paper. And when the dust settled, Kevin was pinned beneath it, unmoving.

"N... no..." Neil whimpered. Dread tightened like a noose around his throat as the horrible thought seeped into his mind: This is because of me. Now I've gotten them both killed.

"Oh, yes, what a tragedy... just your luck, isn't it?"

Neil's blood ran cold. He raised his head to see the translucent, smoke-shrouded figure of a giant clover looming over him. Its four leaves, dark green tipped with crimson and speckled with barnacles, opened down the middle to reveal a row of needle-sharp fangs. For a second, "Where did you come from?" was on the tip of Neil's tongue. But it was just as well that he was too terrified to speak, because no sooner than the question appeared in his mind, he realized the obvious answer. Oh, right. This is the demon that cursed me.

"Don't worry, your friend is alive... for now," the demon jeered. "But that could change. It's so easy for accidents to happen, you know?"

As if to demonstrate, the demon's leaves fluttered and suddenly a fire sprang up dangerously close to the scattered pile of books on the floor. When Neil screamed in protest, the demon laughed, and part of the ceiling gave in, sending down a controlled shower of debris to put out the fire before anything flammable could catch.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Neil exclaimed with a shake of his head; he'd be almost exasperated if he weren't so terrified. "You're really powerful and want to hurt people, geez, not exactly a challenging concept. So, what do I have to do?"

That question seemed to give the demon pause. "...Do?"

"You know, to appease you or whatever. If you're threatening me with Kevin's life, then there must be something you want from me, right?" An idea occurred to Neil just then, and his already hammering heart beat even harder, to the point where he hoped the demon couldn't hear it and tell how freaked out he was. "Hey, it must suck having to be a clover. What if a lawnmower or forest fire had gotten to you before I did? And if you like hurting people so much..." He paused, smirking as the demon leaned toward him with obvious interest. "Wouldn't it be easier just to possess my whole body instead of wasting time messing with my luck?"

"That's..." The demon hesitated, its leaves curling up in what looked like excitement. "Ah. Ah-ha-ha! You're a clever little mortal, aren't you?"

"But don't get it twisted," he put in, glaring defiantly up at the demon despite hardly being in a position to threaten anyone. "You have to promise not to hurt anyone else. Especially not Kevin."

"It's a deal!"

Before Neil could stop and reconsider whether this was really a good idea, the demon dove toward him, row of fangs wide open as though it were going to bite his head off. He flinched a split-second before something cold and stinging like nettles clamped around him.

When he opened his eyes again, the world was tinted dark green as if viewed through a dingy screen, his head felt hazy... and he couldn't move, at least not of his own volition. Even opening his eyes just then wasn't his decision. He heard himself cackle, felt his arms and legs flex far harder than he'd known he was physically capable of flexing, breaking the ropes that bound him to the bed frame and setting his body free to do whatever the demon wanted.

"Hah..." the demon muttered in his voice as it made him walk over to where Kevin lay, still trapped and unconscious. The demon knelt down and poked experimentally at Kevin's shoulder and forearm. "This one has more muscle. It might have been a better choice for possession, if it wasn't so damaged already..."

For one petrifying moment, the demon grabbed Kevin's head and stared intently at him, stretching Neil's face into a grin so wide it made his whole face ache, and Neil's mind raced with horrible thoughts of things the demon might make his own hands inflict upon his poor helpless friend. But the demon simply laughed and dropped Kevin, who let out a low groan as his head lolled to the side--an indication that at least he really was still alive. But all of a sudden Neil had trouble believing that small mercy was really worth it.

"Ah, well, this body will do," the demon decided. "Let's take it out on the town and see how long it lasts!"

This time when the vigilante materialized in Wendy's room, she did little more than roll her eyes and move to grab her baseball bat. However, rather than try to attack her or even growl out any threats, the vigilante took two shaky steps and then collapsed, catching himself against her dresser. Wendy's eyes widened as she took a closer look at his face. His mask was off now, revealing a pair of striking blue eyes glistening with obvious distress, cheeks flushed with exertion, and a streak of half-dried blood running from his bruised nose. And when he spoke, it wasn't in the gravelly tone she'd heard from him before, but in a quiet higher-pitched voice--almost a whimper.

"Please... tell me..."

Wendy hung back, caught between a sharp tug of sympathy in her heart and a very rational wariness based on their previous encounter. The vigilante tried to walk again, and again nearly fell; his face wrenched up and he let out a pained hiss. At that, sympathy won out over rationality. Wendy edged toward him with her baseball bat in hand, and when she was close enough, held it out to him.

"Hey, uh... here. It's not exactly medically sanctioned, but maybe you could use this like a cane?"

"Oh... good idea, thank you!" He broke into a grin, and Wendy shivered; somehow he was far scarier when his eyes were bright and cheerful. "Terribly sorry for how I treated you last time, by the way. I really wasn't myself."

"Uh-huh?" While the vigilante tested out the makeshift cane, Wendy sat down on her bed, arms crossed. "And who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Ryan... or at least I think I still am." His smile faltered, and he looked away, anxiously running a hand through his hair. It was starting to come unpinned, and his hat was askew; evidently he'd been through a lot in the few hours it had been since their first encounter. "It's been... strange, lately. I don't think I'm entirely human anymore, if I ever was. But I came back here because there's something I want to understand."

"You want to know why I ghosted your friend?" It was just a guess, but Ryan nodded; Wendy smiled privately to herself for having figured it out. "Alright, I can tell you..."

She uncrossed her arms and leaned back on her bed, thinking back to the disastrous date she'd gone on several months prior. It was a story she'd recited many times to friends, relatives, other first dates as sort of a half-joking warning ("So, as long as you don't blow it as much as that guy did, we should be good...") and the more she told it, the more warped and exaggerated it became within her memory. But when she really thought back on it now, it hadn't been so disastrous at all--pretty damn awkward, sure, but not even close to the worst date she'd been on.

"Kevin actually seemed really sweet," she recalled, smiling despite herself at the memory of his big dorky grin. "I would have gone on a second date with him. But then, first thing the next morning, I read in the news that some guy got arrested right outside the restaurant while we were on our date. And the criminal's name? Neil. Same name as the 'friend' Kevin had said was helping him out." She shrugged, lips twisting into a frown. "I just got kinda freaked out, you know? Like, 'oh geez, did I go on a date with a drug dealer or serial killer or something?' Of course it probably wasn't anything that serious, and pretending to be dead was probably an overreaction, but... well, what's done is done."

Wendy was so caught up in her own memories as she explained all this that she wasn't really observing Ryan's reactions. Once she concluded her story, she glanced over to find him sitting on the floor with his legs tucked up awkwardly beneath him, the baseball bat in his lap; he was staring at the floor, expression unreadable. He stayed like that for a long moment, not seeming to notice that Wendy had stopped talking, until she cleared her throat. Then he jumped to attention, eyes flashing like those of a woodland cryptid in headlights.

"Ah! Yes, of course... well, I still don't entirely understand, but I think I resent you less now." Ryan tilted his head and shot her another shiver-inducing grin. (Whether it was supposed to be threatening or not, she had no idea.) "And you're right; I almost forgot--we're all criminals too, Neil and probably even Kevin and especially myself! So how can I be a vigilante?" He answered his own rhetorical question with a shake of his head, manic grin softening into a melancholy smile. "It's ridiculous. I've been so foolish."

With that, his body began to ripple, losing a little of its solidity. But before he could break apart and dissolve through the floorboards like last time, a chirpy little beep-beep-beedle-beep noise rang out. Ryan's eyebrows shot up, and he glanced down at an accessory around his wrist... Wait, is that one of those communicator watches like the one Kevin had?

If it was, Ryan wasn't quick to answer it. He simply stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at the beeping device in silence. Although she knew even less about Ryan than she knew about his apparently only slightly more normal friends, and she didn't normally care to get too involved in the personal affairs of strangers, he was still in the middle of Wendy's bedroom. And the longer that little jingle repeated, the more annoying it got. So she cleared her throat again and asked, in as polite a tone as she could manage given the circumstances,

"So, are you gonna answer that, or what?"

It was a stupid, pointless idea. Not an idea at all, really. Just the last scraps of... not even hope, that was pretty much deplenished at the moment, but effort. The effort not to let everything fall apart even further than it already had.

Kevin had woken with a throbbing pain throughout pretty much his whole body. Judging by the crushing weight pressing down on his torso, he was lucky to have woken up at all. The only parts of him not pinned down were his head and right arm, and even those hurt to move, though at least the spinning in his head put some degree of separation between himself and his broken body. Forget about trying to wriggle free when it hurt just to breathe.

So there he was, stuck, the shelf slowly crushing the air out of him, and Neil was gone. Where to, he didn't know. When he craned his neck he could see the empty bed frame, and the ropes broken and discarded at the foot of it. The bible he'd gotten from Ryan's house was facedown beside the tipped-over end table, next to a crushed and twisted lump of metal and plastic that he was horrified to recognize as his beloved proton pack. So wherever Neil was now, he must have still been cursed... or worse. And there was nothing Kevin could do about it.

Unless. Grimacing at the way his joints twinged, he raised his unpinned arm above his head. There on his wrist, perfectly intact despite everything he'd been through, was his communicator wristwatch. In all the hubbub of that day, he'd never gotten around to mentioning them to Neil, so his friend wouldn't be wearing his. But what if...?

It was stupid. It was pointless. There was no way in hell. But it was the only thing he could do. In a display so lacking in dignity that he was grateful nobody was around to see it, Kevin used his teeth and tongue for lack of a free hand to dial in the frequency and send off a signal. The watch's screen flashed in affirmation; he let his head flop against the floor with a weary sigh. Now all he could do was wait.

When he was at Ryan's house going through his things, and he found those communicator wristwatches, he'd only found two of them. And although that could have meant a dozen different things, there was just one wild, far-fetched possibility that any last semblance of hope now rested upon: that the third watch was missing because Ryan was alive, and he was still wearing his.

He didn't expect to get a response. By the time he did, he was struggling to stay awake--funny thing, trying to breathe with fifty pounds of wood pressed directly on your chest really takes it out of you. But he snapped to attention, or the closest he could get when his head was swimming and his body was beginning to go numb from lack of circulation, the moment he heard that voice crackling through the speaker.

"H-hello? Kevin?"

The relief that coursed through his veins was so overwhelming, especially on top of everything else, that he could only laugh--only for it to quickly turn into hacking as his ribs offered a sharp jab of protest. He raised his sleeve to wipe away a streak of blood that dribbled from his lips before speaking into the watch.

"Ryan. Where are you?" He regretted wasting time with that question the moment he asked it; he could tell from the way his organs felt like they were curling in on themselves as he spoke that he didn't have the energy for a full conversation. So before Ryan could stammer out a proper response, Kevin continued: "Neil is in trouble. You've gotta help him."

"What?" The shrill uptick of anxiety in Ryan's voice was palpable, and even just hearing that voice in and of itself stirred up a whole miasma of feelings that there was no time to properly react to. "What's going on? Are you okay? You sound--"

"I'm fine," Kevin lied through gritted teeth. "And... I don't know exactly where Neil is, but I know he's in trouble." A choking mix of emotions and his own blood swelled in his throat as his slowly blurring gaze wandered to the facedown bible. "I've tried to do some stuff today that I couldn't do without you. I-- we need you, Ryan. So, please... help."

With that final plea, something broke within him like a dam that he hadn't even realized was cracking. His arm flopped to the ground, wrist landing near his ear, where the communicator watch kept emitting Ryan's voice as it slowly rose in pitch until he was almost shouting. But even as his friend called frantically out to him, Kevin found it harder to make out the words. He groaned, letting his head loll to the side and his eyes fall shut. The last sensation he was aware of as darkness closed around him was that there was something wet on his face.

"Kevin, are you still there? Hello? Kevin!"

He wasn't responding. Why wouldn't he be responding, if the situation was so urgent? Maybe because he couldn't respond. Because he was--

"What are you going to do?" Wendy's voice cut into the swirl of panic Ryan was rapidly descending into. She hovered over his shoulder, peering down at the watch with wide, anxious eyes. The watch's screen had gone dark. No signal. Yes, indeed, what to do?

"What else? I have to save Neil."

If Kevin didn't know where Neil was, then there was no way that Ryan should have been able to instantly find him. But when he closed his eyes and let his vigilante instincts take over, he found that he didn't have to know where someone was. Whatever dark magic was infused in him now, letting him exist in this not-quite-human state even after what should by all accounts have been his death, it was hardwired for vengeance. And saving Neil meant exacting vigilante justice on whoever or whatever was harming him. With that in mind, the vigilante dissolved in a flurry of blood-tinted ice and reformed seconds later in the place it somehow knew it needed to be.

The first thing Ryan noticed when he appeared on the rooftop was the storm brewing overhead. He raised his eyebrows at that; earlier that day there hadn't been a cloud in the sky--and for that matter, when he looked around, it appeared that most of the sky was still perfectly clear, with the storm clouds being localized around this building. The second thing he noticed, upon peering over the edge of the roof, was that he wasn't on just any rooftop, but a skyscraper that towered above every other building in the vicinity. Lastly, he noticed a flagpole at the far corner of the rooftop, several feet away from him. And that was when his gaze fell upon Neil.

Neil was laughing as he swayed back and forth, clad in a brightly patterned jacket that wasn't his usual style at all, his arms and legs wrapped tight around the tall metal pole. Above him, the dark clouds lit up in a flash, followed almost instantly by a rumble of thunder. Although these particular stormclouds didn't come with rain, Ryan shivered. An incredulous exclamation was on the tip of his tongue (What on earth are you doing, stop it, you'll be killed!) when Neil locked eyes with Ryan, and he realized with a jolt of horror that this wasn't Neil at all--his body, yes, but someone or something else was controlling it. His mouth was stretched into a grin far wider than what a human face could normally achieve, and rather than their usual brown, his eyes glowed a sickly shade of green.

"Why, if it isn't my dear friend Ryan!" Neil--or whatever was piloting him--called, raising one arm off the pole in an exaggerated wave. "Oh boy, the guy I got this body from is sure surprised to see you alive! And as much as I'd love to send you plummeting off the edge of this building, I did promise not to hurt anyone else, so..." He waved his hand in a circle, unnaturally glowing eyes crinkling with amusement. "How about instead I pull you in a little closer so you can get a nice good look when your friend's body fries?"

With that, a sudden gust of wind blew into Ryan from behind, sending him stumbling forward. When he attempted to regain his footing, his broken spine betrayed him once again and he flopped to the ground with an undignified oof just a few feet away from the base of the flagpole. Grimacing, he pushed himself up and crawled the remaining short distance to grab Neil's ankle. As he did so, he noticed there was a bloodstained hole in his friend's shoe, and that his pant leg was slightly damp and already bore a few singe marks. Between that and whatever had happened to Kevin... he shuddered at the thought of what his friends had gone through in his absence.

"Nice try, vigilante," the thing in Neil's body jeered. "But I've gotta say, you don't pose much of a threat since I broke your spine."

He stomped his other foot down on Ryan's hand; Ryan yelped and instinctively released his grip. And at the very instant he let go, in such perfectly unlucky timing that only a supernatural entity could orchestrate, the stormclouds above them opened up with a searing, crackling, blindingly bright lighting strike.

Neil tilted his head back and laughed at the top of his lungs as countless volts of electricity tore through him. That horrendous laughter drowned out Ryan's screams of protest, not that there was anything he could do anyway in his current state, when he couldn't so much as get to his feet. All he could do was lay there and gape in horror as Neil's body shuddered and his flesh began to sizzle and burn.

Though it felt like an eternity of torture, the lightning strike couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds. When it ended, Neil dropped like a ragdoll into Ryan's arms. Ryan, too stricken to even check for a pulse, simply stared blankly into his friend's glazed-over eyes. Then Neil blinked, and his eyes were glowing green again, and he laughed, the sound rougher now that it was being produced by a charred set of lungs.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha! I wasn't expecting this body to survive that! Can you believe Neil is still kicking in here?" He tapped a finger against his head, then sat up with a playful kick of his legs. "...Or is he? It would be just like a demon to lie, wouldn't it?" He grabbed Ryan's chin with his burnt and blackened fingernails and forcefully tilted his head up so their gazes met. "You can't tell, can you, vigilante? So, how hard are you willing to throw your broken body around to try and save someone who might already be toast? Maybe you should just give up and go on with your day, hmm?"

While the demon taunted him, Ryan's mind raced to concoct a plan. Some miraculous last-minute solution that would fix everything... Neil would be able to think of one. Perhaps he already had. But that wouldn't do them any good when Neil was trapped and helpless within his own mind. If this really was a demon, and a powerful one at that, the only thing that might work was an impromptu exorcism.

"Crux sacra sit mihi lux! Nunquam draco sit mihi dux! Vade retro Satana!" Reciting the passage from memory as rapidly as he could without tripping over his tongue, Ryan grabbed Neil by the wrists and held him tight while he hissed and tried to jerk away. "Nunquamsuade mihi vana! Sunt mala quae libas. Ipse venena bibas!"

An ungodly noise somewhere between a shriek and a roar erupted from Neil as he tossed his head back and convulsed. It was far too visually similar for comfort to his electrocution less than a minute prior, and Ryan wondered if the demon was doing it that way on purpose in an attempt to scare him into stopping. If so, it wouldn't work. Even if this process was as painful for Neil as it was for the demon possessing him, it had to be done.

Sure enough, as the final line of the chant echoed across the rooftop, Neil shuddered and slumped to the ground next to Ryan. When their gazes met this time, the demonic glow was gone, but Neil was breathing fast and shallow and his eyes were wide with lingering terror.

"Ryan," he whispered. "You're... alive."

"I think so," he replied with a tentative smile. "It's all a little confusing. But we're going to be okay now, Neil."

However, no sooner had those words left his mouth than Neil stiffened up again, eyes momentarily flashing green. "No," he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head as if to dispel the demon's grasp. "Not yet. Still gotta... get rid of it..." He grabbed Ryan's hands and held them desperately tight, like a scared child clinging to their parent or older sibling. His eyes flashed once more, and this time when the glow faded, his face bore a strained smile. "I've got an idea. Ryan, don't freak out."

And with that, before Ryan could process what was happening and reach out to stop him, Neil sprung to his feet and took a running leap off the edge of the building.

For a while now, Neil had been having unusually vivid dreams. They weren't always nightmares, but they often were. Dreams about different worlds, different realities, different lives. Ones where him and Kevin and Ryan weren't all friends. Or worse, ones where they still were, but that wasn't enough to save them. One of those recent dreams, which began as an exciting fantasy only to devolve into a nightmare, was about some kind of flying vehicle. Ever since having that dream, Neil had made two vows to himself. Firstly, that as soon as he gathered the funds to afford it, he'd go back to school and complete his aeronautical engineering degree. Secondly, to always carry a parachute, just in case.

But the demon possessing him had no way of knowing that, now did it? And it wouldn't want to still be trapped inside a host body that was splattered all over the pavement. That was what Neil was banking on, at least. Otherwise he might really be in trouble.

As he fell, a stinging sensation rippled through his body. He shuddered, yet there was a smile on his face--no longer a grin stretched unnaturally wide, but an expression of his own volition--and his heart pounded not with terror but with exhilaration and boundless relief. Sure enough, the demon leapt forth from him and departed in a swirl of green smoke. And with it gone, he wasted no time in engaging the parachute--just in time to slow his acceleration enough that the fall wouldn't kill him.

Admittedly, he didn't exactly come down gracefully. He landed in a tangle of limbs and fabric that he had to shrug off the borrowed jacket, parachute and all, in order to escape, and the landing was just rough enough to deliver a painful reminder of the electrical burns covering the better part of his body. Still, Neil couldn't stop grinning as he gingerly picked himself up and dusted himself off. He was alive and no longer possessed; that was a win in his book.

When he craned his neck to look up at the roof, he thought he saw Ryan still sitting there. Neil grimaced as he recalled what the demon had said about breaking Ryan's back; hopefully that injury was undone with the demon being vanquished, but since Neil's injuries were still there, maybe that wasn't so. Either way, he couldn't just leave his friend up there alone.

As quickly as he could run with a bullet wound in his foot, he entered the building and took the closest elevator to the rooftop. But by the time the elevator chimed and its doors slid open, the rooftop was abandoned, with no sign of Ryan save for an abandoned hat, cape, and gloves, and a slowly fading dark red stain.

If Kevin hadn't already been surprised to wake up alive the first time, he sure as hell was now. The only reason he knew he was alive at all was the deep, persistent ache that wracked practically his entire body. That, and the warmth of the hand laid atop his own.

Forcing his eyes open with a pained groan, he turned his head to see the man sitting at his bedside. Ryan squeezed his hand and flashed him a sad smile when their eyes met. His vigilante costume was gone, traded for a simple dress shirt and tie, and his hair fell unpinned around his visibly tired face; the chair he sat in, upon closer inspection, was an old-fashioned wheelchair.

With some effort, Kevin pushed himself into a sitting position. Looking around, he found that he was laying on the couch in the living room with his chest bandaged. How Ryan had managed to pull him out from beneath the bookcase, he had no idea, but he sure wasn't going to complain about it.

"Ryan, you... you're hurt?" It was a stupid question--why else would he be in a wheelchair? "Did the demon...?"

"It's gone now," Ryan responded. "But..." His gaze lowered, and he dropped his hands into his lap to fidget with the blanket draped over his legs. "It was a costly victory, I'm afraid. In order to defeat the demon, Neil--"

His tearful speech was interrupted by the distant bang of the front door being thrown open.

"Geez, you could've told me you were going straight home!" Neil's indignant voice rang out down the hall. "I wandered all over town looking for you."

Ryan's head snapped up, and he and Kevin turned in unison to see their friend running toward them with a slightly crooked gait. With a cry of joyous disbelief, Ryan opened his arms, and Neil tackled him in an embrace that nearly sent him toppling over; Kevin had to lean forward to grab the back of Ryan's chair to keep him upright as he and Neil clung to each other.

"Neil, you're alive! I-I thought..."

"It's okay, Ryan," said Neil. Then, pulling back and glancing at Kevin with a melancholy smile: "I think we're all going to be okay."

"So, what do you think?"

As the ending credits rolled on their latest webisode, Neil and Kevin turned to face Ryan with matching expectant grins.

"Well..." Ryan drummed his fingers against the keys of the laptop and tried to think of something positive to say. "The costumes you used were a lot more fashionable than usual--wait, hold on. Weren't those my clothes?"

They were in Kevin's truck parked outside the studio's headquarters, with Neil in the passenger seat and Ryan in the back. It had taken a little over a week for them to recover to the point where they could comfortably climb inside a vehicle, let alone Kevin being able to actually drive, and the studio had already sent them several notes warning them that their pay would be docked for submitting their webisode behind schedule.

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that," Kevin muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"To be fair, if he hadn't broken into your house and stolen a bunch of stuff from you, he couldn't have called you on your communicator watch," Neil interjected cheerfully. "Or tried to do an exorcism... but I guess that didn't really work out for him anyway."

"Hey, c'mon, it wasn't stealing!" Kevin gave Neil a gentle shove, prompting him to briefly wince but laugh anyway. "If we'd known you were still alive, we wouldn't have taken your stuff, Ryan, honest."

"Ah, I'll have to remember that for next time," Ryan quipped. He closed the laptop and handed it back to Neil, who tucked it away inside an oversized shoulder bag. "Well, that may not have been the best webisode we've made, but I can tell you two did your best."

"Yeah, it'll be way better once we get back to making them as a trio," Neil said.

It was still amazing to Ryan that his friends were so quick to accept him back after all he'd done. If anything, it made him feel worse about his prolonged absence, because he knew now that he could have come back at any point and they would have been glad to have him. It was easy to fall into regret when thinking of all that had gone wrong, and all that could easily have gone even worse. But the fact was, they were together again now--altered by what they'd gone through, and not entirely for the better, but still themselves.

And despite it all, the preceding events and the possibility that another horrible thing could happen to them in the future, he found himself agreeing with Neil's hopeful statement.

"Indeed..." Ryan reached out and took Neil and Kevin's hands in his own. They smiled back at him with the same residual traces of relief in their eyes that Ryan had felt every so often over the past week--relief that they were still there to smile at each other. "Gentlemen, I look forward to working with you again."

¤--END--¤

#epic gamer protip: plot something out and then mentally tweak it for the whole summer and then when autumn rolls around #write the whole thing in the span of like three days. works like a charm #hey did you know that i write stuff sometimes?

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eyeless-cunt · 4 years ago

Note

Ej being w a sexual shy reader

prompt 9 (?)

I mashed all of these prompts together into one— I thot they would fit 😳 (however it’s a lil different uwu)

also i listened to ego death by Mieke while writing this it goes with it WELL, so you should listen to it >:)) ON LOOP

🔪————————————————————————🌸

Summary: Y/N is alone and not fine with it. Ej is alone but fine with it. They mix. Ej remembers that his love is not immortal like him.

Word count: 3.3k

NSFW: u h. yes. It’s pretty mild tho and very VERY soft

Warnings: mild depression, grief, loss of a loved one, EXTREME FLUFFY NSFW, mentions of eating humans, mentions of reader death, slight angst, very fluffy, ej loves reader very much

Tag List: @jouchann

🌸————————————————🔪

Y/n was always shy. She grew up quiet, she lacked presence. She never raised her hand—nor her voice. She was talked over and trampled on. She grew up with loving yet quickly fading grandparents. They tried to give her attention but the life was draining out of them and quite frankly they wanted to spend their last years in the arms of their loving spouse. She didn’t mind, she figured she would rather spend all of her remaining time with her significant other as well. Although she had always figured that something like that was nowhere close to her in the near future. Or further future to be honest. She was too shy and small in character to make a lasting impact on anyone, after all.

Falling in love with an immortal demon wasn’t something shy girls did. Outgoing girls did that, spontaneous and loud and adventurous. Those were the type of girls to experience this. Confident and sure of themselves. Shy girls met someone in a library, in a coffee shop, maybe on a park bench. Not in the woods at four a.m. sobbing about their grandparents death.

It was cold and dark and wet. Her face was wet from tears and wet from rain, her fingertips and lips were red and freezing, ready to burst. She couldn’t go back inside. Not yet, not now. It had been a week since their death, her grandpa dying of simply old age, her grandmother fading one hour after digesting the news and coming to terms with it. Her heart was simply too broken. Instantaneous heart failure. They left her everything. The car, the house, the money, the cat— their belongings. She didn’t want any of it right now. She had no other family, no close friends. She was simply not the type to make a lasting impact on someone.

She didn’t want to go back to that house. She didn’t want to see their things laying around, now her things. They were all she had, how was she supposed to go on, being alone? She hated being alone and lonely and alone. If anything, the woods behind her house was almost comforting. The feeling of being watched, which usually would give someone chills and paranoia—helped. She wasn’t alone, she would walk into that house and her grandparents would wave hello at her, they would be holding hands from their separate but close recliners, watching whatever new show they found interesting at the moment.

Obviously, that wouldn’t happen. But she still thought it, hoped. Which was why she couldn’t go back inside. It would make it too real, they wouldn’t be there, she would be truly alone. As long as she didn’t go inside to see for herself, they might be still sitting inside, waiting for her. So she couldn’t go inside, or they wouldn’t be there anymore.

It was colder then before, even though the rain had stopped. The grass was starting to freeze, the sun had gone down more than two hours ago. She sat still against a tree trunk, holding her knees to her chest. She was tired, it was cold out here. She didn’t know if her fingers were still red or if they had turned blue. She didn’t have enough energy to check. Animals scurried around her, as if they knew she wouldn’t do them any harm. They knew she was incapable, so they ignored her and roamed around freely.

Her eyes were closing and opening, closing and opening, over and over and over again. Her head swayed, but she fought to stay up. Would her grandparents still be there if she fell asleep? She didn’t know, so she fought to stay awake. Her body won over her mind however, and soon her body slumped over as she hit the ground, her arms still curled into herself.

🔪Eyeless’s P.O.V🔪

I felt kinda bad. I mean, this girl was just sitting in my woods crying while it was raining. Watching her felt like an invasion of privacy...but then again she was in my woods. It was only fair that I watch her to make sure she didn’t get into any trouble. How did she even get in? It seems that tall prick needs to up his game.

I was patient. I had lived a very long time, I had an endless amount of time to do whatever I wanted. I knew that waiting for someone or something meant nothing. However I did worry about her time. How long had it been? I figured pretty long when she slumped over onto the icy grass, sound asleep. Humans felt temperature, didn’t they? She would get hypothermia if this continued. I had already eaten. I wasn’t hungry. Being feral every once in a while really made you full as hell for a few weeks. The thought of more food grossed me out considering I had eaten so much. She was safe, for now. If she ever came in my woods again however, I wouldn’t be too sure.

So in a moment of rare kindness for something like me, I dropped down from my tree and crouched to get a good look at her. Was she a run-away? She looked young but...I sifted through her pockets. An old tattered wallet. She had a driver’s license, not that much else. Then again I didn’t really look, just wanted to find an ID of some sort. She was an adult. So homeless? No. She didn’t look it. So just having a mental breakdown? probably. I picked her up, and felt the cold in her skin. It didn’t affect me but it certainly made me worried-ish for her.

I didn’t know where to take her. Where did she live, where did she come from? I couldn’t just take her with me, could I? No, definitely not. She would scream and argue and thrash as soon as she saw me. Well, I guess I could just say I was a cosplayer. Of some...random obscure villian or something. If she didn’t believe it and thrashed and screamed then I would just kill her. Easy. Take her home, warm her up, take her back to her home, done and easy. I hadn’t done something this kind for someone I considered my food in a very long time.

I adjusted her in my arms, trying not to press on her her or hold her too tight. Trying to hold back strength was not something I had done in an even longer time, and I was not used to it. I’m not sure how long it took to get there, but halfway I noticed the blue of her lips. I took off my sweatshirt and pulled it on over her head, not bothering to stick her arms through. She would retain more heat that way anyways. I’m not sure if i’m warm or cold, so it was a gamble to hold her closer to my chest. I did so anyways and started to jog, wanting to get there before she died.

When we got there I immediately turned on the heat. My house had many functions I didn’t use, although it seemed they finally had a use. I closed all the windows and doors, and grabbed a few blankets the previous (now long dead—like over 100 years dead) home owners had owned and kept in a spare closet. I laid her on the couch, although I wondered if my bed would work better for retaining heat. I figured there was no difference and kept her there, laying blankets on her. She would probably need a warm bath, but I figured she wouldn’t want me to stick her in there for fear of her wet clothes. I didn’t see an issue with undressing her but I vaguely recalled a moment when I walked in on Jane showering. I didn’t see an issue, she hit me with every bottle in there.

I wasn’t sure of what else I could do for her, so I ended up sitting in front of her on the couch. It was a few hours before she woke up, but I was patient. I have time. I wondered if I would have to kill her or not. I wouldn’t want to eat her, so it would be a waste.

🔪Third person P.O.V🌸

She had a short dream. Grey skin, navy blue, hot tar leaking out of holes in the wall, screaming. A lot of fire and singing. Then she didn’t dream at all. When she woke up, she was surprisingly comfortable. Her back hurt a little, and was a little cold, her hands were a bit numb, and she was sleeping on a soft yet bumpy surface. She liked being wrapped in these blankets, but she couldn’t seem to free her hands. They were trapped in something and she was far too weak to move them very much. He was surprisingly amused. She didn’t seem to know what was restricting her arms, and she didn’t seem all too panicked.

He thought her look of frustration was funny. They made eye contact. Kinda. They talked, although they don’t really remember what about. It took a long time, they weren’t sure how long, but eventually they entered a mutual relationship. Falling in love with immortal demons wasn’t something shy girls did.

Yet here she was. Her head in the lap of an immortal demon who she was in fact in love with. She never did end up going into that house, she tried. She tried and tried but the thought of her grandparents not being there when she walked in always stopped her. She always somehow found her way back to Jack’s house. Over and over and over and over again. Somehow she found her way into his lap. He absentmindedly played with her hair, not sure of what was happening on the Tv. He only installed it because she was always bored when he was gone. He didn’t mind the noise, as long as it wasn’t too loud.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had last gone ‘feral’. It seemed crude to call it that, but technically that’s what he did. He planned on never getting into that state as long as Y/N was alive. Or at least around him. He hadn’t eaten in a week. He grimaced, knowing his last helping shouldn’t even of lasted him this long. He needed to go. He needed to hunt. But she seemed so content in his lap, and he knew he wouldn’t turn for at least another week if this continued. He had time. He could let her stay like this. She yawned, and looked up at him, smiling sweetly. He was sure he could feel his chest warm up his entire body.

She sat up and turned to lift up his mask, pecking him lightly on the cheek and giving another sweet smile. He never thought of humans as sweet creatures. But the woman in his lap was very sweet. Sweeter than any human he’d ever killed and tasted. Sweeter than the sugar water BEN had forced down his throat once. She was soft and quiet, until she opened her mouth. She had a lot to say then. He had time. He could listen. He could be patient. He would always be patient with her.

He wasn’t so sure how patient he’d be if he went feral. But swiped that thought out of his head. He wouldn’t go feral. He would hunt tomorrow—that’s what he decided. Sure she’d be by herself for a day or two but she knew the drill. He’d feel a bit bad as she clung to him, hopping he wouldn’t leave. A little guilty as he walked away from her as she held back tears. But she knew the drill.

He sometimes forgot that she didn’t have as much time as him. Forgot that one day she would leave this world and her human body would rot and decay into nothingness. She wouldn’t be sweet anymore. She’d be bones that he’d bury under a tree or some shit. He would pass her grave in a thousand years and he might not remember her voice by then. That thought sent him spiraling.

She would die. She was human. One day her life would end. The thought of him forgetting her voice, the way her kisses taste so sweet, the feel of her hands in his hair as a tv he didn’t give two fucks about droned on in the background. He didn’t want to forget. He never wanted to forget how warm her body was, the only temperature he’d ever actually felt. The only thing he’d ever actually love.

He didn’t want to leave her anymore. He hated leaving her. He’s never loathed anything more than being apart from her and knowing that while he was away, she was aging. She would grow old. Her bones would become brittle, and her eyesight would leave her. He would lose her and have to bury her in the ground. Cover her in dirt while bugs chewed at her corpse.

But he had to go. Or he would lose her even earlier, to himself. That would be unbearable. He would never be able to live thousands of more years peacefully if that happened. He might get over it, after how long. That made him hate himself. He looked down at her, her eyes trained to the Tv ahead of them. He leaned down to kiss her forehead, and when he pulled back she pushed foreward and caught him by the mouth. He couldn’t help but think about how sweet she was.

She pushed him back even farther, and he let her. Her hands pulled him closer, as close as he could get. She would never get enough of him, of how soft he was. His skin was soft, and so was his mouth. She was sure he’d never picked at the skin there like she had. A bad habit that made her lips bleed and harden. It made her self conscious, but Jack never seemed to mind. She was glad. She wasn’t expecting him to pull away and pull off his shirt. Sure, they’d gotten showers together and all that, but that wasn’t an action with sexual intent behind it. They’d never gotten that far. She assumed he never wanted it, or that she wasn’t desirable. Or maybe demon-like creatures like him just weren’t into things like that.

Him pulling her into his lap seemed to tell her otherwise. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. Her mind was a mess. Were they about to have sex? Did he want it? Did she want it? Of couse she did. But did he? Her hands shook, so she gripped his arms, a bit embarrassingly. He probably noticed. He kissed her forehead, sweetly.

“Do you want to?”

She practically gulped. She was incredibly nervous, and her anxiety kept reaching new heights. She’d never even kissed someone before Jack came into her life. She had never been close enough to a person before. This went from 0-100 in minutes. She nodded anyways, but he didn’t seem to believe her.

“Are you sure? You look pale. We don’t have to. We can just go back to cuddling and watching Tv. Okay?”

“No, i’m just nervous. I’ve never done any of this.”

“That’s okay. I don’t think I have either.”

“You don’t think?”

“I don’t remember much of my human life. I might’ve, but who knows?”

That made her laugh a little, even though it was a bit sad. She felt better, but was still nervous. What if He didn’t like her body, or he was grossed out by it? When was even the last time she shaved literally anything on her body? Probably at least a week or two. She was sure he’d find that disgusting.

“We really don’t have to. Especially if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to. But I also haven’t shaved it a while.”

He wanted to laugh at that. That was her reason? He thought it was silly, but if it was serious for her then he’d try to take it seriously too.

“I don’t care about things like that.”

“I haven’t gotten a shower.”

“I don’t care about that either, but if getting a shower and whatever else would make you feel more comfortable then you can do that, obviously. But I really, really, don’t care about any of that stuff.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am positive. It seems a bit shallow to really care about something like that. And I honestly find you beautiful no matter what form to appear in. I would still love you just the same if you were covered in dog shit. I wouldn’t fuck you until you got a bath...but I would still love you.”

He felt like she needed just the right amount of love and validation from him to feel more confident, and he hoped he was making her feel better.

“I love you.”

He smiled at her and replied back with, “I love you too.”

He decided not to add ‘more’ or they would get into a full verbal war over who loved and missed who more. It was endearing to watch her fight over it so seriously, but tiring when it went on for more than thirty minutes.

He kissed her forehead again, waiting for her to make the next move. He wouldn’t do anything if she didn’t want him to something. He tried to be gentle and caring with her at all times, even if he didn’t know what he was doing. Even if it was the opposite of his nature.

She moved a bit cautiously, and he thought it was cute. Her mouth caught his, and he let her lead. He didn’t exactly know what he was doing anyways, so he figured he might as well go with it. She never sped up, so he didn’t either. She pulled off her clothes slowly, and still a bit nervously. He asked her again if she was sure. And she said yes, and kissed him harder.

He waited till she seemed more comfortable, then picked her up and carried her to the bed. The couch looked uncomfortable to her, and he didn’t want that to be a factor in her nervousness. She felt so soft, and he briefly wondered what he did to deserve this. This sweetness.

She held him closer to her, wrapping her legs against his waist. She had the quick thought that even his waist was perfect, and that that wasn’t really fair. His grey skin somehow made him even prettier, and she continued to think that through the whole night. He was gentle with her, even at the cost of his own pleasure. To him, it was worth everything and more to see her writhe under him, gripping onto him like there was no tomorrow. Her nails dug into his back, and she apologized profusely afterwards, even though he absolutely loved it.

He wanted to watch her move like that everyday for the rest of his never ending life. He only focused on her, and the faces she made. She would try to hide her face in his shoulder, or with a hand, but he always pulled it away so he could see. He kissed her everywhere, touched her everywhere, and she returned the favor, even though they really both had no idea what they were doing at first. It was endearing to watch her do her best for him, and Jack thought he’d never need anything else if only he could have her forever.

One day, she would turn to ash. But until then they would spend every moment they had together loving each other beyond comparison. He would spend his every waking moment living for her, until she would live no more.

#was it sad enough #hehe 👉👈#🌸#creepypasta #eyeless jack #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta fic #fic #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack fanfic #eyeless jack fic #slight angst #slight pp warning #fluff #creepypasta fluff

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fandom-sheep · 3 years ago

Text

MCC 18 SEP 21

Yellow Yacks and Cyan Coyotes with a little Aqua Axolotls. Part 1/1

The only reason I didn’t forget MCC was because I got the notification for Eret.

I have Wilbur on my TV. I’m going to watch Eret on my phone. And I’ll have Tommy on my iPad probably.

Wilbur throwing a tantrum and saying he won’t play.

I feel like a true Gen Z member with my multiple screens of minecraft.

I’m only just getting the Wilbur notification.

I love watching everyone run around before MCC and scale things.

Griefing the thumbnail. 😂

Wilbur just causes problems on purpose when it comes to group photos doesn’t he.

He just loves finding ways to cause problems.

Wilbur got a coconut!?!

I didn’t mean to type the question mark originally. But I am a bit confused.

Wilbur just stocking up on coconuts

True friendship is a quote book. I have several.

Baby banana boo.

Wait. I heard the word tumblr

Scott what did you do with tumblr?

I’m scared. Only Eret permitted on tumblr.

I remember watching hole in the wall as a tv show as a kid.

Wilbur’s glasses that don’t do anything.

There are September discounts for subbing?

Neato.

The conversations in my work discord are something else.

Not surprised that Wilbur is going for top swearer of MCC

But my residents are going to walk by my door and judge me.

Alright I apparently wasn’t signed in to twitch on my iPad and it took me entirely too long to learn to remember it.

Tommy looks like he’s really concentrating. Oh wait never mind.

Wow the yaks are in first currently. I might be cheering for a winning team for once.

Alright I have my iPad split screen between Tommy and the MCC website.

Everyone break the elevator!

In the game, not in the building I work. I don’t want that paperwork.

Stick together and place many block.

I’ve been in Wilburs position. “I’ll be captain” “yeah let’s let Wilbur be captain”

Not a single POV I have up is synced. But that’s life.

Oh not starting out strong.

Just keep going. Ignore the falling people just like ranboo last time.

We are at the absolute bottom for this game.

Where’s a bag of popcorn or something?

“Stay down there. That’s how I won that one time” -Ranboo

Down they go.

They didn’t have anywhere to run.

Second round!

Oh that wasn’t their best idea. It was fun seeing Erets POV of that.

Go Teams.

Turning down the volume on yellow yacks to listen to aqua axolotls.

Aqua please. You have so much potential.

Nope.

Switching audio again.

Yellow back at the bottom.

Ranboo ranboo ranboo ranboo

Down he goes. 😂 the timing of that was funny.

Please. Don’t die

Wilbur. Scott. Please.

Scott uncovering the creeper.

Their plan is literally just sit and be.

To be fair that’s my plan for everything I do.

Oh cobwebs are smart.

I’m eating very salty Chick-fil-A chips and need water.

We are still doing ok. Wow.

Cobwebs man. The real MVP.

They are still in 10th

COBWEBS!!! And Wilbur standing on the edge of a block.

THEY WON THAT?!?!!!!

It moved them from last to eight. But still. Wow.

Holy cow. How did that happen.

I always forget what the acronym game is.

Oh yeah. Wilbur snuck and found this. I remember.

Go team!

Oh the website updates faster than the game. But we’re starting off decent.

I’m going to have to take back that statement aren’t I?

Go go go go

Fly fly fly fly

Build build build build

Go Wilbur!

Rafter strat.

Wilbur found the rafters and everyone else loved it.

Blocking his own jump. 😂

I really should do the inside joke chair emoji thing for laughing. But I don’t care.

Tiktok is nice. Depends on the side you are on, but it’s nice.

We are doing halfway decent. I’m proud of us.

Wilbur is struggling and I think he might cry.

Not bad. I don’t think.

Power sweater.

This game in MCC has rainbow road vibes

I’ll have to make that it’s own post since I feel that’ll be popular ish.

Holy cow we hit first on the website!! How?

Ranboo sweet one.

They said no peaking to Wilbur.

Wilbur making them block stuff off and the like is so funny.

Run yaks run!

I missed the moment Wilbur just mentioned. Oh well I’m sure I’ll see the clip.

First last first.

Hey 4th overall. Look at em.

Wilbur switching to full screen to show us his M&Ms.

Let me balance my water bottle on the bedpost above my head. No way this could possibly go wrong in multiple ways.

Double coins. Gorgeous.

Chickens are being sniped.

What’s going to work? TEAM WORK!

I don’t think I have ever watched a game of grid runners in my life?

Alright game should start any second because it started on the website.

Alright stream is delayed about 13 seconds.

Go teams go!

Wilbur just sniping targets.

We’re doing ok.

All this dirt.

Go go go

We’re completing things first.

Cake!

Wilbur got in!

Now they eat

Oh but they are falling.

Oh wow the painting is complicated. My friends and I would fail to communicate so fast.

Is this lever thing just find the button but complicated?

Go you got the levers!

Items grab!

My friends and I would seriously struggle unless I was allowed the lead. But I would lead us off a cliff.

Everyone get ready to go in as soon as the cake is done.

Exit! You guys are so close! Please!

Woohoo!

Go Ranboo! Go Scott!

Come on guys. Come on. Good communication.

I think I like watching Wilbur with MCC because he had a similar strategy to what I would do.

Wilbur why did you try to act cool!!!

They keep saying they are miles ahead but not according to that scoreboard.

You placed 3rd. Good job y’all.

I’m excited for bonuses.

They have another minute until the others run out of time.

Good soup.

Oh wow. Ranboo and Wilbur really are always totgehe.

We are doing well. I see the board changing on the website so much.

Where will they land.

Looks like 2nd or 3rd

Fourth overall. Not bad.

Lap time is logical.

Audience vote?

Look at me redownloading twitter.

Can you not see how others have voted on twitter?

Oh there it is. It only showed mine for a sec there.

Battle box looks close. I voted ace race.

Oh it all looks close right now.

Long break my beloved.

I don’t have time to start my laundry but still. My beloved.

Game 5/8 so MCC won’t be too much longer.

I look up and Wilbur is shaking his ass at George. I’m not surprised.

Phil and Sneeg judging Wilbur.

Wilbur twerking on Phil and Sneeg joining.

Poor Phil.

Wilbur just having visited so many random places with so many random words just gathered.

Oh wow parkour tag is low. But so is sands.

Oh wow it was a tie. Between Sands and Parkour

“Wilbur is Sand Daddy” -Scott and then all the agreement noises.

Sands of Time is my favorite practical game

Maybe because Wilbur is really good at it. And Ranboo had been trained by him.

This is just good.

I swear Sand daddy is going to kill me during this.

I am just going to pass away.

My stream delay though.

Wilbur who says he stays very quiet as he makes circus music noises.

Minecraft Rhinos. Because I can’t spell their real name.

I don’t quite understand sand of time. But I like watching. It’s like college football.

I am missing the only college football game I care about for MCC.

Go Team.

No blue yet.

All the mobs.

“You better not die” sung to the tune of Santa clause is coming yo town. -Wilbur

Keep it up guys.

Oh no. They lost the key.

Oh good they found the key.

You can tell Wilbur had a musicians brain. He just hears something vaguely lyrical and starts singing a song.

Gotta promote your band whenever you can I guess.

I listened to the last Ep for like an hour and a half yesterday while I went about my day.

I wonder how we’re doing?

Only a few seconds.

I could warm a heating pad in the amount fo time they have left.

Ranboo doing these puzzles so amazingly.

Quit caring about what others think. Just do your thing.

I swear the sand daddy thing.

I love the cage of shame for not tracking your sand.

I zoned out. Red cyan orange?

We’re almost 15 minutes into sands.

I want to play Minecraft on my iPad right now.

Wait the website updated. We were 6th?

Yikes. I thought they did better.

3rd overall though!

Wait what was that about most influential improv thingy? Good for them.

Build mart!

Oh Ace Race. Wilbur calling Ace Race his girlfriend now.

I want to see the enemies to lovers fan fictions of Ace race and Wilbur.

Oh wait I can do that. I can verbally tell one like I have others in the past.

I’m excited to watch this.

Wilbur flirt with the race.

I’m not mentally prepared for this.

Everyone just joined because they don’t want to miss Wilbur x Ace Race.

Oh no. He’s not doing so well.

Oh Wilbur is giving us more.

Complicated history…

Whispering to Ace Race and Solidarity.

You’ve got it Wilbur.

Keep on talking. Keep your brain busy while you play.

Mommmm Wilbur is flirting with Ace Race again!

He’s whispering though so I can’t quite hear it and will have to find a clip channel that added subtitles.

Oh teams are changing on the website.

“What are you doing in my women Philza?” -Wilbur

“I will end your bloodline which is canonically also me.” -Wilbur

I can not track all the quotes from this. That’s beyond my abilities.

Wilbur did halfway decent, but it still uncomfortable.

Ace Race is a person now. Also the fact that Wilbur compliments Ace Race so much.

Sally v. Ace Race.

I want to find that fanart now.

Scott honey. Confirmed cannon is everyone fancies the fish.

4th. Not bad.

We’re still talking Ace Race x Wilbur

Build mart! My dearest buildmart!

I miss them sliding around in the sleds.

Grab da flowers!

We’re in 1st at the minute.

Come on yaks!

No coyotes!

Hurry hurry hurry.

Work discord going it’s thing again.

Oh we’re dropping fast.

Move the redstone! Thank you

Alright back on top. Keep it up.

Nevermind.

I love the way the build spaces for the different teams work.

Who is the person on the build?

Oh first again? Nevermind.

Oh we popped up to second. We’re so behind. Come on.

Duck!

Good soup energy. Now all I can think is the bi wide energy song.

Time is running out.

Yeah we aren’t catching up to first. Just hold second.

Where is granite?

Game over.

Third overall now. Not bad. Last game time they can possibly pull it into dodge bolt.

I need to go get a picture with the President of the university for a game with my work.

Good Soup.

I’m sitting here making popcat noises while waiting.

Game time! Go team! Survive!

Wait where did the steamer go? I wasn’t paying attention.

He’s back.

He’s swearing for his points on the swearing list.

Is pee a soup? No. I don’t think it’s think enough under normal circumstances.

Karl is apparently swearing according to Twitter. Good for him. He deserves to swear some as a treat.

Everyone running and leaving shubble.

Oh good they are all together.

Just keep running.

4th so far.

Cars. Beep beep.

Ranboo breath child.

Calling Wilbur like some kind of golden retriever.

Bow boy

Scott is leader now. Because otherwise they are arguing.

We are playing the don’t die strategy.

Come on team.

Did I put my cut in this post? I did.

Ranboo having stolen the airdrop. And he has a thing!

Oh the boarder is right behind them.

They are fighting Dream?

Nice Will.

We’re in fourth.

Boarder is right there.

Sapnap? Nope.

Pink attack and they book it.

Oh no. There goes Wilbur.

Is it just Scott?

Scott vs the world.

Just Organe and pink. They came third.

GO ORANGE!

Please. Please let us do it.

Overall third. Pink overtook yellow.

Sadness.

Ranboo has achieved: Found Hated Game

Ranboo has been hit by Survival games so many times now.

If they had just lasted a tiny bit longer they would have come second.

Cheering Orange I suppose.

I have no skill at picking winner POVs.

I have 3 teams I was at least kinda watching. And none of them are in dodgebolt.

Gosh can hear Ranboo tweaking.

Wow. Yellow yaks just as a team twerking.

What is Wilbur chewing on? Wilbur don’t chew on things that probably aren’t meant to be chewed on.

I can hear the band outside of my window. I think my campuses football game is starting.

The drum line practiced outside my window all the beginning of the semester so it’s fun seeing them march to the stadium.

Oh and there are the cheerleaders.

Oh right I was watching MCC! Who’s winning?

Come on Orange. So close.

Wait I looked out my window. Why is the band walking back to where they were?

Along the sidewalk?

I thought it was game time for a minute.

Oh dodgebolt could go either way.

Distracted by Jesus.

Grian! You got this!

Nice Grian.

Oh Grian has a chance!

Oh!

It’s so close!

Ooo ooo!

I’m so invested.

I SEE THE CONFETTI IN THE SITE! But I don’t want to miss the shot.

Come on Grian.

I know you do it. But you’ve got this

YESSSSS

Woo hoo!!

That was a good MCC. Now to do the chores and homework I originally planned to do today.

That was a nice stream.

Scott is separating Ranboo and Wilbur?

Please. Scott.

Don’t separate the beings.

You know. Twitter needs to politely bully Scott into keeping Ranboo and Will together.

Oop and that’s Wilbur done. That was fun.

See y’all next time!

#mcc #wilbur soot #ranboo #Scott #dangthatsalongname #shubble #yellow yaks #delayed liveblogging

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fanfictiondreamscape · 4 years ago

Text

Teasing the Ouran Host Club

Request: Hi! Can I request ohshc x host reader? And just something fun and reader teasing them or something along those lines?

Title: Teasing the Ouran Host Club

Genre: fluff, comedy (i mean...it’s the host club. what is to be expected when they’re being lighthearted.)

Pairing: Ouran Host Club x GN!Reader (platonic)

Notes: Okay, so this request sent me someplace because this sounds hilarious and the antics that a host could get up to with these guys - oh my.

That being said, I defaulted the reader here to be gender neutral, mostly because Haruhi is a host, and I want to be able to keep anybody reading in the general fantasy of the whole experience.

I also took some liberties with the format, so I hope that you don’t mind these being headcanons. I find them the easiest to write, but they also leave room for the most comedic moments on both parts (the hosts and the reader).

I left some things vague for the sake of reader ‘control’ if you understand. I hope you don’t mind it and enjoy the piece nonetheless.

Below the cut!

let me cover something first: you being an addition to the host club is a blessing to this group of students.

whether or not you are an official part of the host club, the group can and will find a way to tease you (excluding tamaki - in the beginnning)

tamaki may also jump in to provide an attempt at comfort, but-

who are we kidding? he’d be quick to embarrass himself and hide away in his emo corner.

otherwise, when you do become an official host - HOO BOY.

the twins will target you.

the catch is that you have observed all of their tricks from the halls and classrooms.

you were able to pick up on a fair amount of things that they would pull.

so this led to you recruiting some backup to get them back.

if their prank was set for you, it would backfire (at least the first time).

if you set a prank for them, it’d get them (the first few times - guaranteed)

seriously. catch them doing something stupid and obnoxious (read: P R A N K) and boom

there’s your chance.

when they’re plotting, you’ve already had a plan and they just fell into your trap.

this would be rare though, as you’d be avoiding each other’s pranks after the first couple run-ins.

once the pranks become common, you’d be jumping to prepare yourself with a water gun and ice cold water at the beach and a fresh pack of gum and a gag toy to leave them in the middle of class.

otherwise, while tamaki is trying to claim dominance in the club endeavor(s), kyoya is watching you and the twins go at it.

eventually, your attention will be drawn from them (whether from your own clients or theirs) and most likely to honey-senpai or kyoya himself.

the difference between the two is that you tease honey about his cake choices and kyoya about the way he handles himself

(cheesy as it is, ‘icicle’ and ‘mr.-ever-bored-parent’ are your favorites and some of the other host club members have picked up on it).

otherwise, when things get completely settled and you get into a routine, kyoya will take up teasing you relentlessly.

yep, he might even ignore the twins antics just to make sure that you are a vulnerable-ish target

and then he’ll attack.

it may be a simple verbal attack (”that’s very rich, coming from someone that cannot find a way to keep their mouth shut and their hands out of trouble.” “oh, shut it icicle.”)

or it may be something in which he would put a figurative cherry on top of the twins last prank

(read: he would actually put something on top of your head to finish it off. it gets the whole club into tears, aside from tamaki - he busy trying to contain any of the customers if they’re in the room.)

otherwise, intellect teasing comes with the job.

it’s a lot of cheesy chemistry-based pick up lines that kyoya will either follow along with or try not to walk out of the room.

either way, the banter is enough to keep the both of you content.

when it comes to tamaki, though...

yeah, he refuses to outright tease you.

and you know this, so you take advantage of it.

one day, you may actually tag team with the twins and go at him relentlessly.

“hey, tamaki, has that girl with the host-hopping disease come by lately?”

tamaki: emo corner mode

“hey, tamaki-”

“no, (y/n). not today, please. i don’t want to talk about her.”

“i wasn’t. i was gonna ask how the chase for haruhi was doing, you dolt.”

tamaki: emo corner.

haruhi: wtf, (y/n)

(if he does really get bothered by it (like, seriously bothered and upset), just remind him that this is all in good fun.)

otherwise, haruhi is a different story.

she is 100% willing to throw a monotonous comment at you if you were to ever shoot one at her.

want to tease her about her debt? great, she’ll shoot one at you about the uniform you destroyed in an attempt to get back at the twins.

tease her about her reactions? she’ll throw one right back at you about how your childishness “reeks and can be smelled from miles away.”

yeah, pretty fun when you have someone that isn’t afraid to pull something out of her big brain and throw out what she can take.

it’s mutual and it’s easily one of the most entertaining parts of your day.

from time to time, too, you share some teasing with mori.

yeah, he doesn’t speak much, but when it does get him to say something

yeah, you get ecstatic. you, simple (y/n) (l/n), got the takashi morinozuka to say something.

most of the time, it’ll be when you are trying to test your limits and throw out a few cheesy math pick-up lines at him in an attempt to gather a reaction.

“i heard you like math, so what’s the sum of u + me?”

“are you a 30 degree angle? because you are acute-y.”

“are you a square number, because my love for you is exponential.”

(credits go to jokes4us, you may continue.)

that last one got a small smile out of him and your ego just got boosted by ten.

yeah, stuff like that got you excited. honey-senpai enjoyed the show, as well.

on that note, you rarely teased honey-senpai to the extent of the others.

he was too sweet, you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything more than tease him about his cake of the day.

even then, it was very light.

typically something along the lines of, “honey-senpai, that’s the cake for today? i thought you didn’t like that flavor.”

“but, (y/n)-chan, they liked the cake! i hadn’t tried it before.”

“wow, really? pardon me saying this, but that’s new.”

yeah, the teasing and the complete demeanor between the two of you attracted more customers for the both of you, and you two would often work together when you had customers.

but, overall, teasing within the club is great on all fronts.

tamaki may falter a little bit, but he is very much for it otherwise. yeah, he won’t say anything, but the experience is great.

the other hosts enjoy your company as well, and from time to time, kyoya and tamaki will jump at the chance to praise you on your ability to attract customers (though the reasons will be different.)

so yeah, 10/10, definitely worth the relentless hours of annoyance they can cause. your ability to tease them keeps them in check when they need to be (in the case of the members that need that to be established).

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ka-za-ri · 4 years ago

Text

Descent Pt. 4

Hello again! Did ya miss me? (of course you didn’t. I haven’t gone anywhere) Please enjoy the next installment of a Simeon Sin Fest that shouldn’t be allowed. As usual, lemme know what you think!

Chapter Index and Obey Me! Masterlist: here Ao3 Mirror: Here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10] Pairing: Simeon x Reader Genre: Smut Wordcount: 5,300 ish Tags: Sex toys, smut, femdom, anal toys, cock rings, oral, face sitting, body worship Summary: After a long night of being played with, it's only fair that you got to do the same to Simeon.

Skid

To say you had a wild night would have been an understatement. Simeon was relentless in his experiments and you were subjected to a full array of toys and techniques that you never imagined to go through. You couldn’t help but enjoy ever second of it. Even if he said it was for his book, even if it was all pretend, he lavished you with attention and you drank up every drop of it. All you asked for was a little affection and he was more than happy to give that for you in exchange for watching you cum time and time again. You had lost count of how many times you had climaxed under his watch, eventually passing out from exhaustion and begging for a break.

When you awoke, you were still on the floor but a large, soft comforter had been wrapped around you, tucking you in neatly into a bundle on the ground. The sun streaming past the curtains gave you a vague idea of just how late you had slept in. Rubbing your eyes and looking around, you found Simeon sleeping soundly on the couch nearby. He had put his sweater back on and a small throw was carelessly draped across his abdomen. He must have been in the middle of doing something when he finally fell asleep considering how he still had his glasses on.

Your whole body hurt both from sleeping on the hard ground and also from all the activities of the night before. Stretching a bit, you worked the soreness out of your body bit by bit as you went through the motions of waking up. You tried to keep the noises to a minimum considering Simeon was right there, but it was difficult to hide a groan of pain or two from escaping when it came to stretching your back and arms.

Surprisingly enough, he stayed asleep through everything and you carefully waddled over to him with the comforter wadded up in your arms, fully intent on covering him properly to prevent him from catching a cold. Just as you were about to spread the comforter over him, your caught a glimpse of the notebook in his hand. Curiosity got the better of you and you were immediately distracted by what he had scribbled in that little book. Carefully putting the blanket down, you peeled the book from his grasp. He mumbled slightly in his sleep, stirring a bit, but didn’t wake. You breathed a sigh of relief and went right into flipping through the pages.

You thought he had gone through all the ideas in his head; however, the chapter outlines in his notebook told you a completely different story. Just glancing at the few words he had scribbled down for each scene had your cheeks and ears flushing hot with embarrassment and a fair amount of desire. You didn’t think he was capable of such scenarios, yet the proof was staring right at you. You blinked, noticing the next thing he had underlined and smiled to yourself. The premise would be perfect payback for everything he had put you though.

Putting your little scheme into motion, you tucked him in properly, took his glasses off his face and let him rest for as long as he needed to. If he could spend a whole night tormenting you to climax over and over again; you had found the perfect opportunity to do the same to him. You needed him to be well rested and ready for that. Anyway, he looked too angelic while sleeping for you to wake him up without warning.

Simeon eventually came to about an hour later. He groaned, looking around and noticing not only the comforter around him, but his glasses and notebook tucked neatly to the side. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him when he saw the empty spot on the floor. He swallowed, wondering if you had enough of him and left. He carefully got up, checking his surroundings and heaved a sigh of relief when he noticed your overnight bag was still where he had left it.

He was drawn to sounds in the kitchen and when he approached he was greeted with the most domestic scene that warmed his heart.

You had found one of his over-sized sweaters to wear. It almost came down to your knees and because of its size, you thought it would be perfect to just not wear pants. He watched you as you padded around the kitchen making breakfast out of leftovers. You hummed softly to yourself, completely unaware of him watching you until you turned and saw him at the doorway. Startled, you nearly dropped the bowl of fried rice you just finished making. “Oh, I didn’t notice you had woken up. I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed a few things.” You smiled sheepishly at your attire.

“Oh no, it suits you.” He said softly, coming over and taking the bowl from your hands. His fingers brushed against yours momentarily and you felt your heart flutter. There was so much kindness in his eyes and a gentleness to all his motions, you wondered if the manic, sex driven god you saw last night was a dream. The ache between your legs told you it had definitely been your reality.

He went about as if nothing happened, helping you out with breakfast and brewing some tea to go with the meal. He had to be careful, he already had a sampling of going right to the edge with you and it was so addicting, his whole body was itching to do it again. Seeing you wearing his clothes also did something to him he didn’t expect. There was a surge of pride, and arousal, that came about when he saw how well you wore his sweater. When he stood close to you, pressed against you to get some dishes, he could smell the cloying scent of his laundry detergent mixed with your unique scent. It was a heady mixture that shot hormones straight to his groin and he had to steel himself from lewd thoughts to keep himself decent. It was much too early in the morning to deal with this.

All he wanted was a peaceful meal with you; but it seemed his mind had other plans. He kept replaying every moment you came undone and screamed his name. The way you moaned for him was so alluring and he nearly lost himself more than once. For as ancient as he was, Simeon thought he had perfect control over his emotions and his desires; but you were showing him that wasn’t the case at all. Every little thing you did seemed to give him more ideas and more ways to ravish you without experiencing a fall. The fire he played with was hot, but the reward was worth it in the end.

He struggled through eating breakfast and you could tell his mind was in the gutter. It was so adorable how hard he tried to hide it from you. He wasn’t being subtle at all, fidgeting and half paying attention to the conversation at hand. It only made you want to pounce on him even more, but you had to be patient. There was a time and place for everything and breakfast was the most important meal of the day.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind that I used your shower while you were sleeping.” You nonchalantly said while cleaning up the last of the rice.

“Oh… Oh not at all,” he stuttered, feeling the tips of his ears burning when the image of your wet body in his shower flashed across his mind’s eye. He cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. “So, is there anything that you’d like to do today? I feel like after uhm… what happened last night, I should let you choose how you would like to spend the rest of your time here.”

You couldn’t get enough of how he switched between adorably innocent and intensely sexy. If only you could figure out what made him tick, it would be a gold mine. You wanted to press all his buttons at once to see him come apart at the seams. He had broken you down to your base needs so easily, it only seemed fair that you did the same to him. As if the gods of fortune were smiling down upon you, he even offered to do whatever it was you wanted. You show just how excited you were when he put such a lovely gift in your lap. “I have a few ideas…” you replied, leaving a fair bit of vagueness in your answer. “But let’s get dishes done before we get too busy.”

The innuendos in your words had him thinking of scenario after scenario all which involved you being in a compromising position. He wanted to act upon those base instincts of his to simply take what he wanted; but he had already resigned control of the day to you and he would be good about it. He was an angel after all, doing the bare minimum and showing some control over his desires was the least he could do to slow his inevitable descent into the dark world of carnal pleasures. “Let me take care of that, you did the cooking. I asked you over to relax and celebrate your time with me, not cook and work.”

Perfect. You almost felt bad for taking advantage of his innately kind disposition.

“Oh, I don’t mind. I had so much fun, it didn’t even feel like work,” you chirped but didn’t stop him from going to the sink and doing the dishes as he said he would. “Well, I’ll come up with something to do while you’re doing chores then,” you were nearly singing in excitement and it took every bit of self control you had to not skip out of the kitchen and put your devious plan in full swing.

By the time Simeon was done, the house was eerily quiet. He hadn’t heard you rustling about at all while he was cleaning. He had expected you to choose a movie to watch or maybe even suggest a stroll through his gardens. But, you were no where to be found which was concerning. Honestly, he was a little anxious to find out what you had planned for him. Stepping back out into the living room, he looked around and didn’t see you there at all. An irrational wave of panic set in and he wondered if you had somehow packed up and left him.

Using his confusion to your advantage, you sneaked up behind him from your hiding spot and grabbed his arms, quickly pulling them behind him and securing them with a pair of thick leather cuffs you had found in his giant trunk of sex paraphernalia. The bewildered look he gave you as the cuffs clicked into place was so cute and you almost felt sorry for springing the surprise on him. “What.. what are you doing?” He asked, pulling against the bindings. You had purposefully kept them loose. If he wanted to leave, he was free to do so at any time. They weren’t there to keep him restrained, they were there to remind him you were in control.

You stalked around him, and he was drawn to the sound of heels clicking against the floor. Looking down, he noticed the tall platforms you had put on while he wasn’t looking. You were still wearing nothing else except for his sweater and he couldn’t stop the involuntary shudder of lust that ran down his spine to rest at his crotch. He hoped you didn’t notice; but with the way you were watching his every reaction, he knew you had seen it.

The smile on your face was full of mischief and a bit feral. Something about losing all control of the situation had Simeon’s mind blanking out and he was equal parts terrified of what you were capable of as well as quickly becoming aroused in anticipation of what you had planned. You lead him to the couch and made him sit on the edge of the cushion, all the while exuding every bit of confidence you could get out of being in control for the day. “So, I went through some of your notes...”

He audibly swallowed, breaking out in a cold sweat when he realized you had found the darkest depths of his desires. The chill that washed over him was replaced with shame as he tried to explain himself. As soon as he opened his mouth, you put a finger on his lips to hush him. “I don’t want to hear your excuses,” you drawled. You paced back and forth slowly, the clack of your heels against the floor echoing in the room “What I want to know, is how you expect this interrogation scene to work with me.”

You picked up the notebook and flipped through the pages, ignoring most of what he had already written until you landed on the page you were referring to. “You see, it clearly states that the main character’s partner gets caught and then interrogated… Last time I checked, I’m your stand in for the main character. Which means...” You smirked, dragging a finger down his cheek. “You get all the fun of all the scenes involving the partner, the husband… and maybe even the boss, right?”

Simeon nodded dumbly at your analysis; unable to argue with you. He had considered using you as a stand-in for those scenes as well, but he had no idea how to approach you about it. The solution you came up with was both brilliant and dangerous. Without being in control, who knew just how much further he would slip into the darkness to just be with you. It was a risk he was willing to take though. The cuffs that kept his arms bound behind him kept him firmly in place despite being loose. In the short time he had known human pleasure, he had already put his full trust in you.

“Okay… well, we’ve got the whole handcuffed part down. Next… we get a little spicy.” To see Simeon so docile and willing to participate in your little play made it all the more exciting to you. You made a show of rifling through his trunk of toys, bending over so he could get a good look at the lacy underthings you put on under his sweater. You mumbled to yourself as you went through all the options you had in front of you. Your fingers brushed across a few lengths of ropes, considering them for a moment before you left them be for the time being. Today would be a test of how far he would let you go, ropes could always wait until later.

For now, you had much more important matters to attend to. The most pressing matter being the fact that Simeon had too many clothes on. Setting aside the toys you had chosen, you stalked back over to him, making sure to keep your selection out of his direct line of sight. “First thing’s first, let’s see what I get to work with, shall we?” You asked, pressing a knee between his thighs to spread his legs apart. Leaning in, you kissed him deeply, breathed in his scent and started the scene you had schemed about since the morning into action.

You couldn’t get enough of how soft his lips were, or how wonderful he sounded whenever he let out a soft, breathy moan. Pulling away after a heated make out session, you were rather happy to see the slightest tinge of read on his cheeks and a glassy haze over his eyes. “Adorable.” You purred leaning in again to pepper his skin with more kisses along his jaw and his neck. You could feel his body tense as you explored it, but he didn’t deny you or stop you with his safe word. You figured he could take notes on how to write a sexy interrogation scene without actually being interrogated. You really weren’t in the right mindset to come up with some cheesy dialog which could throw the mood off.

Since you were going to focus on the experience, it meant that you were free to lavish his skin with kisses and light love bites until he was a shivering mess. You knew no matter how much affection you gave him, nothing would come from it. It was the nature of your relationship with him. But, you hoped you could at least convey your feelings for him while you had him at your mercy. So you poured every bit of your adoration you had for him into every kiss and every caress, hoping he would get the message.

Your fingers played at the hem of his sweater, teasing the skin of his abdomen with feather light touches while you kissed what skin was exposed. When you were sure you had given every inch attention, you peeled the sweater over his head to give you a new expanse of skin to work with. You couldn’t help but grin wickedly, watching him shiver as the sweater was pulled over his head. It dropped down his arms, stopping right at the cuffs, framing his body. If you squinted in the early daylight, it almost looked like a pair of fluffy white wings coming from him.

“My precious angel...” You murmured softly, looking at him fondly. “You’re so cute.”

You shifted so that you straddled him properly and pushed him back to rest against the cushions of the couch. In his new half-laying position, you had much more access to the skin you just revealed and you were more than happy to shower him with more kisses; worshiping his body and everything he was willing to give you.

It was so beautiful to hear him moan and shudder under you. His lithe body tensed and relaxed in time with what you did to him. You quickly learned what drew out the best sounds from him and made sure to revisit the spots that brought out the most delicious moans. His nipples were especially sensitive and every touch sent him keening. You could feel his cock twitch under you as you teased his body to the peaks of arousal without giving him what he undoubtedly wanted.

You hummed, grinding yourself against his growing hard on while you continued to give his torso more attention. Curious, you wrapped your lips around a nipple and sucked, licking the tender skin there and the scream that came from him was absolutely heavenly. You quickly became addicted to that sound and redoubled your efforts in eliciting that noise from him. He strained against his bindings but remained careful not to break them. You being on top of him was doing things to his mind he never thought were possible and he was quickly losing himself to all the sensations you were giving him.

“Please…” He begged after you had given his nipple ample attention. “I need something mo-- Ahhh” You ignored his pleas as you simply switched to his neglected nipple. Your lips made sure to give it the same attention as its partner while your fingers traced the waistband of his pants. You would give him more on your own terms, and right now you were very busy getting him to scream your name while you teased him.

He wasn’t sure just how much more teasing he could take from you and futilely rolled his up to you in an attempt to get your attention. Much to your dismay, you only ground down on him harder to keep his hips still. You bit his chest hard, enough to make him gasp and leave little teeth marks on his skin. “You’ll get more once you behave.” you explained simply before going back to caressing and kissing him.

Simeon felt delirious by the time you were finally ready to get off his lap and help him out of his pants. He was very sure they had gotten soiled with how much his cock was leaking with need. As soon as you peeled his pants off of him, he sighed in relief, no longer having anything restricting his aching cock. “Ooh… someone’s so excited.” You drawled, dragging a finger up and down his shaft. He gasped, heaving deep breaths as a new onslaught of sensations washed over him.

You wanted nothing more than to sink your pussy down on his length and feel it stretch you out; but you needed to remain respectful of his wishes. Anyway, you had many more plans for him. You were acting out an ‘interrogation’ scene after all. What was an interrogation without some torture? You smiled softly at him while your finger swirled around the tip of his cock. “Ah… now for the fun part.” you said softly, leaning down and giving his dribbling member a chaste kiss.

You walked over to the coffee table where you had set aside the toys for the session and wrapped your fingers around the cock ring you had chosen. You made sure he was well aware of every one of your actions and forced him to watch as you slipped the ring down his length until it rested right at the juncture between the shaft of his cock and his balls. He let out a soft whimper as he felt the pressure on his cock. His expression was full of pleading when he looked up at you, begging you with his eyes to release him.

“Now now, my precious angel...” You cooed, tilting his head up to keep his eyes on you. “I can’t have you cum until I think you’ve done a good job. You can do a good job, right?”

Simeon looked at you blankly, nodding vigorously to whatever terms you were going to give him. He had been so close to climax as soon as you had taken his pants off of him and now, you had forbidden him from the release he craved. He was willing to do whatever it took to get to that high again.

“Good boy...” You praised before helping him up and repositioning him to bend over the arm of the couch with his legs spread and his ass up in the air for you. The sight of his cock hanging between his legs was so tantalizing, you couldn’t help but give it a few loving strokes which rewarded you with a shaky moan from Simeon.

You smirked, running your hand across the swell of his ass and spent a good few moments caressing his cock and balls, pulling a few more needy moans from him before you moved to the next thing you had in mind. “Let me know if this hurts now...” you said, lubing up your fingers and teasing his ass crack. “I don’t want to break you so early.” You dribbled a liberal amount of lube in between his cheeks to make the next part as smooth as possible.

When you pressed your first finger in him, he let out a strangled gasp, struggling wildly against his restraints and you waited for him to stop you. But he didn’t. Simeon simply looked like he was reeling in the experience and eventually calmed down enough for you to start sliding your finger in and out of him. The surprised gasps soon turned into pleasured moans and you felt confident enough to continue stretching him out more.

The process was gruelingly slow, but it was worth it to see his blissed out face in the end when you managed to fit three fingers in and he was a mewling mess against the couch cushions. “Good boy… Time for you reward.” you purred and reached for the glittering plug you had set aside.

You carefully removed your fingers and he whimpered when he was fully empty. Oh, he’s going to regret sounding like that soon… You thought wickedly as you spread the lube on the plug. Slowly, oh so slowly, you started easing it into him and watched as his expression changed from bliss to shock and then back to pure pleasure. The plug glittered so beautifully in the sun once it was inside of him you couldn’t help but give his ass a satisfied smack, making him jump a little.

“How’s that feel?”

“G-good...” He said breathlessly. He didn’t realize just how tense his body had become during the whole process until the toy was snugly inside of him. Now that the weight of it sat inside and the base stretched him out just so, he was in a world of nothing but pleasure. Your hand idly stroking his aching cock only added to the sensations and he was sure he would faint soon if he wasn’t allowed to cum.

“Good. You did so well, my precious angel…” you cooed. There really wasn’t any better pet name for him, you decided. He was just everything you ever expected out of an angel and it felt right to call him that while he was in your care. “Are you ready for your reward?”

He nodded, barely comprehending your words. You guided him to lounge back on the couch to give his legs a rest. The shift in positioning meant the plug only went deeper into him and pressed against a spot inside that made him see stars as soon as he sat down. You waited patiently for him to ride out the wave of sensations before you finally gave his cock the attention it deserved.

You wrapped your lips around the tip of his dick, giving it a good suck and swirled your tongue around it which caused Simeon’s hips to nearly levitate right off the couch. You firmly pressed him back down, keeping your hands on his thighs to prevent him from squirming too much. His breaths came out in shallow pants as you took his cock into your mouth inch by inch until your teeth caught on the ring at the base. Careful to not hurt him, you slowly pulled the ring off his cock one agonizing inch at a time.

Looking up at him with the toy in your mouth, you were greeted by the most angelic image of an absolutely debauched Simeon. His hair a mess and his eyes glazed over, he almost didn’t seem all present until he heard the toy drop from your mouth and onto the ground. Then, only then did he scream your name as you gave him the blissful release he had craved when your hot mouth was once again over his cock.

You let him squirm and thrust his hips into your mouth, accepting everything he was giving you as best you could. Urging him on by moaning into his dick as you sucked him off, it took almost no time at all for him to cum gratefully down your throat. The load was large enough to leave a bit of if dribbling down the corner of your mouth as you struggled to swallow it all. Pulling off his cock with a lewd pop, you looked over at him and pouted. “Ahh… it looks like someone had fun...” you drawled.

“I… yes...” He breathed, still breathless from finally climaxing. The sun glistened off of his sweaty skin as he took deep breaths to bring himself back to earth.

“So I get my turn now, as fair payment, right?”

“I… What?”

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet.” You let out a soft giggle, getting up from between his legs and moved him so you he was laying down across the cushions of the couch. “I still need release.”

He had no idea what you were about to do until you positioned yourself to straddle his head. He got a clear view of your dripping wet pussy and just the sight alone was mind blowing. “So, why don’t you show me what that pretty tongue of yours can do?” You asked, moving your panties to the side and sinking down onto his face.

He was surrounded by your scent, your heat and the taste of you. Simeon was more than eager to flick his tongue out and trace your soaking slit, savoring the feast you were giving him. He could barely breathe, but that didn’t matter to him. He eagerly tilted his head up to meet you and licked at everything you offered him. His lips eventually found your clit and he latched onto the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The moment you felt his tongue and lips on your clit, you knew it would be the end for you. You had already been holding off your arousal for so long in your quest to conquer him that when you finally got stimulation it was absolutely wonderful. You didn’t hold back your praises as you urged him to keep going. Your moans filled the room alongside the lewd sounds of his licking and lapping at your folds. You could get used to his anti-pussy fucking demands if it meant that his talented tongue could work you to orgasm over and over again instead of a cold toy.

“Oh… Oh fuck, Simeon...” you whined as you crested over the edge and came all over his face. You felt him greedily lap up everything he had access to, sending shivers all over your body until you were a shuddering, overstimulated mess.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from him, finally giving him the space to take an unhindered breath. You settled on his chest, watching him gasp for air. The lower half of his face was covered in your slick and it was such an arousing sight, you couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him, tasting the remnants of yourself on his lips as you did so. “You did so well…” you praised once the kiss broke.

You stroked his hair gently and let him come down from whatever highs he was feeling. Taking the cuffs off of him, he examined his wrists for any marks and was rather satisfied to see that there were none. It would have been a shame if his beautiful skin was marred by a toy and not your teeth or nails. In the moments that scene ended, all tension in his body seemed to leave at once and he was a limp noodle in your arms.

You went to go get some water to sip on and helped clean off the worst of the fluids between the two of you. Reaching around him, you started to remove the plug still inside of him and he stopped you. “I… Let me wear it a little longer.”

“Alright.” you conceded and settled yourself next to him, letting him rest his head on your bosom and ride out everything. “You did so well...” you murmured, meditatively stroking his hair. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’ll make a great chapter out of this.” He reassured, partially dozing off and clinging to your borrowed sweater. “I promise I’ll make you proud.”

“You already do.” You said softly, pulling a nearby throw over and covering him with it. “Rest, you’ve worked hard today, my precious angel.”

He mumbled something unintelligible as a reply before snuggling up closer to you, quickly falling asleep from exhaustion. You let yourself slip into a light sleep as well, knowing your calves would hate you for being in such high heels for so long. It was worth it, though.

What you didn’t know was Simeon was now far from being a precious angel now that he had a taste of sin and temptation.

#Obey me #obey me simeon #Obey me fanfiction #Obey me smut #Simeon x Reader #Obey me AU #My writing #Wow this is so much sin #I almost feel bad #I still hate every word I write right now #but hey it's getting the job done #I am not subtle with the heaven jabs

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dutchforstrangers · 3 years ago

Text

The morning after

A/N: One-shot time! Last night, I suddenly felt the spark of inspiration to finish this WIP. For some context, I recommend to read chapter 7.1 ‘Italian French kissing’ and (nsfw) chapter 7.2 ‘No regrets’ from About all the times he/she kissed me. But if you don’t feel like reading it, let’s just say Taichi and Sora had some physical fun the night before, hehe. It’s written from Hikari’s POV.

Also, @stoppingtosmelltheflowers this is the finished WIP you asked about in the WIP-tag/ask game :D (I wanted to hint Takari more, but I failed sorry)

As always, under read more. Happy readings :)

Characters: Hikari, Takeru & Taichi, Sora (Taiora) Genre: ... (I have no clue haha, judge yourself) Rating: K+? Words: 1350-ish

Summary: Taichi had a visitor last night and Hikari is determined to let her brother explain himself.

xxx

August 1st had always been a thing, but for Hikari August 2nd would be just as memorable from this year on. Not only was she in Italy with great company, but her brother had finally made ‘the next step’.

It was some time after midnight when she heard Taichi having words with a girl who’s voice couldn’t be more familiar. Besides, there was only one girl her brother could have words with like that. Hikari smiled to herself.

Eventually the words of her brother and the girl were interrupted by a careful knock on her bedroom door. It opened a crack and she was met with a set of blue eyes and blonde hair. Takeru asked for permission to come in which she granted.

“Are they fighting?” Takeru asked her, closing the door and leaning against it. Though she knew that he already knew her answer, she gave it to him anyway.

“No. This is a little different, don’t you think?”

He smiled at her question in the confirmative, simply because it was different. The small quarrel sounded both passionate and full of emotions and that was about damn time. Hikari looked at Takeru to share a little laugh. They grew quiet when the exchange of words were replaced with other sounds. She felt a light blush rising and her eyes wandered to the blonde in her room.

“Well, I think this is the right moment to head back to my own room,” he stated matter of factly, turning around to open the door and leave her alone to fall asleep. She waved at him as he whispered her a good night. The sounds coming out of her brother’s room slowly grew more vague to her and with that Hikari drifted off to sleep.

The next morning she woke up without any particular sound. Still, she could vaguely hear her brother’s voice arguing with the woman’s voice in her head. She stretched herself, ready to start the day fresh.

Once in the kitchen to prepare some breakfast, she heard the shuffling of sheets, muffled voices, giggles and eventually cautious footsteps coming from Taichi’s room. Her curiosity was piqued. Suddenly in the mood for playing a little game, she left the kitchen and breakfast preparations to take a seat opposite from her brother’s bedroom door.

It wasn’t like her at all, but for once she decided to act like the nosy little sister and she loved it already. Seated in a subtle spot at the kitchen table, Hikari had a clear view on her brother’s bedroom door. She knew they had to come out any minute.

“Good morning, onii-chan.” She was quick with her words, throwing them at her brother as soon as the door carefully opened. Hikari smirked.

Taichi looked startled, a light blush crept up his face. “Oi Hikari… Morning,” was all he could say. It seemed like he tried to mimic her smirky expression, but he failed being too flustered. Of course Hikari knew why, but she wanted to hear it from him.

“How’d you sleep?” Came her question.

“Wonderful.”

“You came back pretty late last night?” Came her next one.

“Yes, so what?” Hikari internally rolled her eyes, her brother always had his answers ready. “It’s none of your-”

“Did you had fun?” She interrupted.

“Well yes, but-”

“Anything happened you should tell me about?”

“What?” He snorted, coming across as somewhat impatient. “Can you please stop this interrogation?”

Perfect, Hikari thought to herself. She was driving him into a corner, exactly where she wanted him. With that in mind she leaned back in the chair, crossing her legs and folding her arms across her chest. “You have something to hide?”

He looked her straight in the eyes, squinting a little, trying to figure out her motives so he could shut her down. “I came home late and I have a hangover, happy now?” But she wasn’t that easy, pointing a finger at his messy hair.

“Is that why your hair’s all messy?” He quickly ran a hand through his hair in response while interrupting her by almost shouting her name. Suddenly remembering they weren’t the only ones here in the apartment, he swallowed her name a little. Hikari however did pay no mind to his interruption and went on where she had left. “And your face all flushed?”

“Where’s the sudden interest coming from?” The annoyance in his voice was overly visible. It only made Hikari internally giggle harder.

“Why do you answer every question with a question yourself?”

“I did not.” Came Taichi’s quick answer. “I tried to tell you that all of this is none of your business, but you didn’t let me-”

“No,” but Hikari knew better, because this wasn’t the reason. She left a pause to let her brother finish his sentence.

“-finish.”

“- it’s because you do have something to hide.”

“I don’t-” His face looked heated, though she didn’t know whether it was because she was driving him mad or because he was so ashamed. Maybe it was both. If it was up to her, he shouldn’t have any reason to be ashamed.

“Or better said someone.” It was too amusing to play with him like this for once. Behind her brother she spotted that all too familiar red shade of hair both her brother and herself loved so much, both in different ways. Hikairi’s smirk intensified, mischievously lifting one eyebrow while slightly tilting her head so she could peek behing her brother’s back. She watched as her brother followed her trail of sight.

“Hi Sora.”

While the blush on his cheeks turned a brighter red, a sigh escaped his lips marking his defeat on one and relieve on the other hand. A completely flustered Sora slowly stepped out of her hiding place behind Taichi, shyly waving a hand to Hikari. From what Hikari could see she was wearing one of Taichi’s shirts and shorts, a bundle of her messy clothes from the night before in hand. Hikari chuckled, finding the whole situations very amusing.

“Fine. You got me little sis,” Taichi spoke first while stepping into the living area with Sora following. Even though they both looked embarrassed by being caught, Hikari noticed both of them beaming as well. It seemed like they were in a happy place and the only thing left to do for Hikari was genuinely smile at the sight of her big brother and his female companion.

“For what it’s worth, I think you two are cute,” Hikari said standing up from her chair to get back to breakfast preparations in the kitchen. At the same time Takeru entered the living area, suspiciously taking in the sight of Sora following Taichi to the couch. Sora turned her heel, leaving for the kitchen, making Hikari chuckle once again.

As Sora entered the kitchen, Hikari smelled a mix of Taichi’s cologne and deodorant all over her. It was all so obvious to her, but she leaned in anyway so only Sora could hear her. “You can spare me the details, but I am curious… you two had fun last night?” Hikari bobbed her eyebrows at her watching Sora being unable to hide a cheeky smile, answering with a simple nod confirming Hikari’s hunch even more. But before she could ask further, another voice interrupted.

“You two came home pretty late last night,” Hikari suddenly heard Takeru making conversation with her brother— “did you had fun?” –with the exact same words as she had used earlier. Hikari gasped, turning her head back to Sora who was now biting her lip. “Anything happened that you should tell us about?”

The girls giggled together, looking at Taichi to see what he was going to do. But instead of answering Takeru the way he tried to dodge all of Hikari’s questions, he shifted his gaze to the kitchen, locking his eyes with Sora’s. A smirk appearing across his face, probably seeing no more reason to hide all of it, making Sora’s cheeks paint blushy pink.

“Yeah, well,” Taichi started, glowing, “I guess you could say we sure had a hot and fun night. Didn’t we, Sor?”

#Digimon fanfiction #fanfiction #digimon #one-shot #hikari yagami #taichi yagami #sora takenouchi #takeru takaishi #taiora #kari kamiya #tai kamiya #tk takaishi

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merryfortune · 3 years ago

Text

Beneath the Weather

Written for 100ships on Dreamwidth

Prompt 66: Grey

Ship: Respectfulshipping | Ryoken/Spectre

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS

Word Count: 1,794

Rating: T

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Tags: Fluff, Whump, Sickfic

In this sort of grey and dreary weather, it was easy to feel beneath it.

But Spectre was not going to allow himself to feel anything more than inch outside of his usual self. He had a fussy personality, he didn’t mind nurturing his hobbies or his beloved. Actually, if anything, he thoroughly enjoyed micromanaging his plants and, of course, Ryoken too but he hated to be taken care of. It elicited a vulnerability that made him extremely uncomfortable. After all, the only kindness and affection that he had ever felt genuinely had been robbed of him very early as a child.

Thus, he would very much prefer to toil through his bout of under the weatherness. He wasn’t even going to entertain it by calling it some sickness or illness. Even if it was a day off from activities as a cyber criminal operating with the Knights of Hanoi, he still had a long list of chores and other things to do.

He wasn’t going to let the gloomy weather outside stop him nor his little sniffles that were bothering him. It was barely anything at all. So long as he kept rugged up, perhaps a little more than usual, he ought to be fine. He would simply sweat it out tending to his indoor plants, the outdoor ones would be fine in the vague precipitation, so long it didn’t turn foul and tumultuous. It would all be perfectly fine.

And yet, despite having the utmost conviction, Spectre still succumbed to whatever it was which was dredging up the worst tiredness inside of him.

He stirred, irritated that he had fallen asleep at all, and he realised something. There was a soft blanket laid over him and the more confused he became, the more confusing things he realised. He was propped up on his side; he usually slept on his back. Now that he thought about it, he did not recall putting himself to sleep and this pillow that he was using was very peculiar as well. For lack of a better word, it was bony but not necessarily uncomfortable.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Ryoken teased him.

All grogginess that Spectre felt evaporated immediately. His eyes went wide and his face went bright red. He had been asleep. In Ryoken’s lap. And for goodness knows how long. The humiliation was instantaneous and more than enough to bring upon another dizzy spell. Spectre’s head spun and he collapsed back down into Ryoken’s lap.

“Oh, you poor thing, try not to move too much.” Ryoken murmured, looking up from his book and lazily putting it away with just one hand.

He pet the top of Spectre’s head and Spectre’s eyes squeezed shut. On one hand, he very much did not want this but on the other, he very much did. His compromise was to pretend that neither of them existed but that did little to quell the undeniable - and soothing - sensation of having Ryoken play with his hair. His fingers were very gentle, deftly raking through the thick strands of Spectre’s grey hair, all clumped together with sweat.

Spectre moaned to himself and then feebly asked, “What happened? I don’t remember the last… half an hour or so at all.”

“I would imagine so,” Ryoken agreed, “you’ve been out cold for at least two hours.”

“Two hours?!” Spectre exclaimed, only to sound like he was running out of air to breathe, his voice twisting and murmuring.

“Yes, two hours.” Ryoken confirmed. “You were passing through from the kitchen, perhaps on your way to your bedroom, perhaps not when you stumbled and luckily, I noticed. I was able to catch you before you fell, mid-faint, and drag you to the lounge where we’ve been ever since. It’s been pleasant. You're cute when you snore.”

“I do not snore.” Spectre denied, red hot.

“It made for very nice white noise as I read. I managed to get through half of my novel.” Ryoken made small talk.

He paused and his hand roved down to the side of Spectre’s face. Spectre recoiled, Ryoken’s hands were freezing to him but it was nice. Cooling. Ryoken then checked Spectre’s forehead. He hummed thoughtfully.

“You're still burning up…” he mused.

“I - I feel awful.” Spectre murmured.

He took a deep breath and tried to get up. Ryoken allowed it, rescinding his hand from Spectre’s head, but he was worried for Spectre as he was entirely ungraceful as he propped himself up to sit up straight. Or at least, straight-ish. He sat somewhat slumped and slanted. Exhaustion dripped off him no differently than sweat. He breathed heavily, raggedly.

“Do you want some help?” Ryoken asked quietly.

“Not particularly,” Spectre admitted, “but… in this case. I could use some assistance.”

Internally, Spectre fumed. He was not the one who was supposed to need assistance. He was the one who provided it. Day in, day out: he provided for Ryoken in all sorts of ways. He was very much the glue that kept their routines and schedules together. He was very much not used to leaning on others for support, mostly because he felt as though he couldn’t or had no one to, but Ryoken was very much not no one. He was rather special to Spectre.

Ryoken smiled tenderly. He got up and he offered his hand to Spectre. Spectre gingerly accepted it so Ryoken held onto him tightly. Spectre’s grip was weak and how he hobbled along, even with Ryoken’s aide, was even worse. He ambled along like a newborn fawn, determined not to fall but if he was, he was absolutely going to take Ryoken down with him.

Thankfully, Spectre’s room was on the ground floor of the mansion so with enough patience, they were able to get in and Ryoken put Spectre to bed. Ryoken tossed Spectre a bed shirt that he could wear that was probably more loose than the button-up shirt that he was already wearing. Spectre wanted to insist that he was fine but he knew that would be a battle that he would lose, so he didn’t bother fighting it. Whilst he got changed siting down in his bed, Ryoken drew his curtains across. The sudden darkness in the already dim room was a load off, Spectre had to admit. When he was changed, he handed his shirt back to Ryoken who put in the nearby laundry basket and turned his gaze, soft, back onto Spectre.

“Do you need anything?” Ryoken asked. “Aside from painkillers and water, I’ll bring you some in a sec but is there anything else you might like?”

Spectre hesitated, “I’m kind of hungry…” he murmured.

“I know, I’ll warm you up some of yesterday’s tomato soup and bring it as well.”

“That’s an awful lot to carry.” Spectre worriedly pointed out.

“I’ll be fine.” Ryoken said. “Besides, I know you would go above and beyond for me so this is the least I can do.”

“Then can I be selfish and ask for a heat pack too? It's weird, I’m hot and cold at the same time.” Spectre added on. He shivered for emphasis but it wasn’t on purpose, he looked too clammy and pale for it to have been on purpose.

“Absolutely. You're not being selfish at all.” Ryoken said.

With that, Ryoken left to go and raid the kitchen for the various supplies and comforts that Spectre needed. He smiled to himself and finally in his own bed, Spectre did feel more obliged to try to recover but even so, he didn’t feel able to relax. He had this terrible headache and more, he just wanted to escape from it all, even if it was momentarily. He receded down into his sheets and doona, pulling them up and over himself and whilst he enjoyed the comfort of his cocoon, his whole body still felt like he was in agony.

The pain that he felt was amorphous and moving. Vague, just blobs of hurt, inside of him and yet, it was enough to rate incredibly high on his pain scale. His stomach growled. Tomato soup was sounding very nice right about now and he strained his ears. He could hear the microwave buzzing and whirring, and Ryoken’s footsteps. It shouldn’t be long at all now and against his will, Spectre’s eyelids fluttered, getting very heavy and he drifted off to sleep for a moment, or at least something akin.

That was, until, his door opened and disturbed him. Spectre roused from his nap and Ryoken looked sorry for it. He stepped inside slowly and made his way back to Spectre, giving him plenty of time to wriggle back up and rearrange his pillows so he could sit up.

“Here, drink this and take these first, hopefully they’ll help.” Ryoken said.

Spectre’s fingers were shakier than he thought they would be but he managed to accept the glass of water regardless. He took a sip and then Ryoken gave him the pills to take. He swallowed them without issue then set aside his glass on his bedside table. Ryoken lowered the tray so Spectre wouldn’t burn either himself or his doona with the hot bottom of the bowl of tomato soup.

“Thank you, Ryoken…” Spectre murmured.

Ryoken smiled, “I know you're just having lunch now so its probably too early to think about dinner but well, do you want me to order takeout later? Your favourite, of course, or whatever you want.”

“That sounds rather nice, actually.” Spectre replied as he stirred his soup before blowing on a spoonful.

“Great,” Ryoken said, “well, I’ll leave you be. You probably want some peace and quiet.” He wasn’t quite mumbling but he was close.

“I don’t mind but thank you.” Spectre said. He drank a spoonful of his soup and rather demurely, his gaze flicked back to Ryoken and he managed to utter out, “I love you, I appreciate your doting.”

“I love you, too,” Ryoken told him, drawing in closer, unable to resist, and he pecked the middle of Spectre’s warm, damp forehead, “get well soon.”

“I promise.” Spectre murmured, his heart raced in his chest and he could feel himself getting dizzy again but he suspected that this instance was unrelated to his previous instances.

With that, Ryoken gave him some more privacy with the promise to drop in on him later so he could pick up the used bowl and cutlery. Spectre didn’t mind so long as he was quiet. Though, quiet was something of a misnomer. The vague precipitation that had clouded and meandered with the grey of the poor weather had finally become something else. A gentle rain that tapped on his window as he ate and rested, feeling entirely loved and doted upon.

#100ships challenge #writing tag #respectfulshipping #yugioh vrains #vrains #yugioh #ryoken kogami #kogami ryoken #spectre (vrains)#this is so self indulgent but i deserve it #and was an idea i wrote down last year and forgot about until i combed through my archives so i decided to rez it here

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glorious-spoon · 4 years ago

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When the Seasons Stop [Leverage/The Old Guard]

Title: When the Seasons Stop Fandom: Leverage; The Old Guard Pairings: Gen-ish or pre-relationship Eliot/Hardison/Parker Warnings: Temporary character death, canon-typical violence Other tags: Hurt/comfort, immortality Summary: Eliot Spencer damn well knew better than to get this close to a couple of mortals. But he never expected this.

There’s nothing new about the bullet punching through Eliot’s lung, nicking an artery and shattering a rib on its way out. He can feel the world start to squeeze and fold in a familiar way, but that’s not what worries him. What worries him is the gasping quality of Parker’s voice over the comms, the shaky way she said he’s all smashed up inside and the trail of blood zig-zagging out to the van.

Sophie’s hands grasp at him, pulling him in. Her eyes are huge and dark with tears, and Eliot can’t get the lung capacity to reassure her. Isn’t sure there’s anything worth reassuring at all when blood is soaking into the floor (Hardison will be so mad, he thinks stupidly, but it’s Hardison’s blood, his and Parker’s, and they’re sprawled there like broken toys as the van peels away into the street. There are sirens. Nate is swearing fluently and foully in the front as Sophie heaves herself through to drop into the seat beside him).

None of it fucking matters. Eliot’s vision is starting to tunnel, but he can still see Hardison gasping with blood on his lips.

“Did Eliot make it out?”

“Age of the geek, brother,” Eliot rasps, grasping for him, fumbling, fingers slick with blood. Hardison’s long fingers twitch weakly when he grips them. On his other side, Parker’s cold hand slips into his. She’s tilted back against the wall, her shirt stained with dark blood, soaking through to pool beneath her, and she’s already so cold.

She’s bleeding out, Eliot thinks vaguely, but his body is too leaden and heavy to do anything about it. His thoughts fragment into the thickening darkness, and the last thing he remembers is hoping against desperate hope that this time, this time, he won’t wake up to see the aftermath.

He comes to choking in silty water, flailing, splashing. Sinks into the dark and maybe drowns a second time before he finally surfaces. His head hits metal, and he gasps in the small pocket of air beneath it, his mind becoming aware bit by horrible bit. He’s died in a lot of bad ways since he took a bullet to the heart in the winter of 1861 and woke hours later face-down and stripped of his guns and boots in the cold Nebraska mud. But this one might just be the worst of them.

It’s too dark to see, but he fumbles until his hands close over a bony wrist, cloth and cold skin. Hardison’s, by the size. And there’s Parker floating to his left, her hair spreading out in the water and tangling around his wrist when he pulls her to him, puts a hand under her nose like he really thinks he’ll feel breathing.

Like there’s more than half a dozen people in the world who could wake up from this.

“Parker,” he rasps. His throat feels raw, and he tells himself that it’s the leftovers from breathing in river water. “Parker. Hardison. Come on. Come on.”

There’s no response. They’re cold and limp, floating lifelessly in the icy water, and Eliot can’t pretend that the heat welling up in his eyes is anything other than tears.

“Come on,” he rasps again. “Come on, Parker. Damn it, Hardison, wake up.”

There’s nothing. Just bodies, just Parker’s hair tangled around his fingers and Hardison’s expressive hands gone terribly still. Eliot drives his fist into the side of the van and feels his knuckles break and heal in an instant, and then he ducks beneath the water to check for the front of the van.

It’s empty, and he hopes with a dull, flickering sort of hope that Nate and Sophie at least got out alive. Then he goes back to pull the floating corpses of his dearest friends out through the shattered window, one after another. He loops his arms around them like this is a rescue instead of a recovery and kicks until his head breaks the swift surface of the river.

The water is deep and fast here, and it’s not easy to keep his head above it without letting go of either of his burdens, which he damn well is not going to do. He manages, at the very least, not to drown again before his feet finally find the soft mud in the shallows.

He pulls them both to the shore, scrabbling in the silty mud until they’re above the water line, and then he sinks to the ground and puts his head in his hands. Tries to breathe. Tries not to breathe, maybe, since that’s never been his problem. It doesn’t work, either way. His chest hurts like he can still feel the lingering ache of that bullet from a hundred and fifty-some years ago, but he knows it’s not that. Knows that it’s nothing more than simple grief.

He knows better, is the thing. He knows better than to get too attached. He always knew that his life would encompass both Parker’s and Hardison’s by years, centuries (millennia, if Andy is to be believed, and Eliot believes her because he’s never met another person so fucking tired of it all), but he just. He thought he’d have more time. He thought he’d get to dance at their wedding. He thought he’d get to watch Parker take over the reins from Nate and make Leverage into something lasting and real; he thought he’d get to watch Hardison going on about new computer shit for decades to come, going gray and bent and still leaning over his screens with that brilliant joy. He thought he’d get to welcome their children and watch them grow.

He thought that maybe, someday, he’d trust them both with his secret.

He thought he had more fucking time.

Something shifts to his left. Eliot lifts his head listlessly. If it’s cops, he’ll go into custody quietly. If it’s someone looking for trouble, maybe he’ll just let them kill him. Either way, he doesn’t have it in him right now to fight.

It’s neither of those things, though. Instead, Hardison’s body seizes, jerks, and then heaves upright like it’s spring-loaded. He’s hacking and coughing, vomiting murky water, his eyes so wide and wild that Eliot can see the whites all the way around. His hands dig into the mud, then lift to claw at his grimy, bloody shirt.

Cloth parts. Beneath it is bare skin, smooth and completely undamaged. No sign of the shattered bone and pulpy bruising that should be there. Hardison pats at himself frantically and finally lifts his head to meet Eliot’s eyes.

“Eliot,” he says, weak and rasping. “We—I thought—”

“Hardison,” Eliot breathes, and for a wild instant he has no idea what to think. Hardison was dead, he was dead, Eliot’s seen more dead bodies than he can count and he knows what they look like. What they feel like. Hardison was dead. Which means...

“Parker,” Hardison gasps, and then, “Parker, where’s Parker,” and before Eliot can even think to speak there’s gasping on the other side of him and Parker’s thready voice saying first Hardison’s name and then Eliot’s.

Eliot drops his head into his hands and laughs until he cries.

It takes a while to explain it. Or, to be more accurate: it takes a while to get to the closest safehouse that they can be reasonably sure isn’t compromised, which turns out to be one of Parker’s warehouses. She’s got A/C set up somehow, and clothes for both of them—Eliot recognizes the t-shirt she tosses him as one that went missing in the move to Portland all those months ago—and has even rigged up something that could generously be termed shower facilities.

“I thought you didn’t keep any of these anymore,” Hardison mumbles as she steers him to the sprayer that’s zip-tied to a pipe over a wide, shallow trough. The whole thing is brutally utilitarian in a very Parker kind of way.

“You never know when you might need to go to ground. Always be prepared.”

A ragged laugh escapes Hardison’s lips. “Boy Scouts. Cool, cool.”

Parker is busy unbuttoning his shirt; she pulls that off and starts on his pants. Hardison doesn’t squawk any objections about his modesty, which just goes to show how deeply shaken he is; Eliot turns away anyway as both their clothes hit the floor and the water sputters on. He can wait his turn. He once hiked thirty miles on the trail of horse thieves with the remnants of his own guts decorating his clothes; this isn’t even close to the most disgusting he’s ever been.

“Eliot,” Parker says firmly, and he lifts his head. They’re both naked, and he can’t quite stop himself from staring at all that smooth undamaged skin laid bare. Parker’s right shoulder is caked with blood that’s washed her entire side with red, but there’s no bullet-hole now. Beside her, Hardison is steady on his feet, standing easily on a leg that was shattered an hour ago.

They’re both alive.

Eliot blinks, then jerks his head to the side a moment too late. “Go ahead. I can wait.”

“Or you could just come here,” Hardison says, with a raw edge of humor. “You look like a drowned rat.”

“Thanks a lot,” Eliot huffs. He considers trying to argue, then finds abruptly that he doesn’t have the energy. He kicks off his boots and starts pulling his clothes off, leaving them in a stinking bloody heap on the floor. Parker and Hardison both watch him in a way that makes him feel weirdly exposed. It’s not prurient, not really. He has a feeling that they’re looking at his naked body the same way he was just looking at theirs. Cataloguing the injuries that should be there, and aren’t.

Drawing some conclusions, maybe, about all of the beatings that he’s walked away from without a limp in the time they’ve known each other.

“You got some explaining to do,” Hardison says, almost apologetically, as he draws Eliot into the tub with them. He keeps a firm grip on Eliot’s elbow like he’s expecting him to bolt, which to be fair isn’t completely outside the realm of possibility. Eliot has imagined stepping into a shower with the two of them more times than he can count, but this particular scenario never featured in his daydreams.

“Yeah,” Eliot admits, closing his eyes. The spray washes over him, rinsing away the blood and river mud, but the panic—that terrible bleak echo of grief—that lingers. “I will. I promise.”

While Parker and Hardison are getting dressed, he takes one of Parker’s burner phones and goes out behind the building to call Andy.

“I have the new ones,” he says without preamble when she picks up. He knows that she knows what he’s talking about. They’ll have dreamed this, the four of them.

There’s a long pause, and then Andy says, “Good. We’re in Afghanistan. Do you need us there?”

He can hear voices in the distance. It’s impossible to make out the words over the shitty international connection, but even so he recognizes Joe’s laughing cadence. He’s heckling someone; Booker, probably. Nicky has to be there too.

Eliot misses them all so much that it aches. He squeezes his eyes shut. “Nah. I can take care of it.”

“You know them,” Andy says. “Don’t you.”

It’s not really a question.

“Yeah,” Eliot says on a breath of laughter, all the same. “Yeah, you sure could say that.”

There’s a hell of a lot that Andy could say in response, especially after the way everything went down with Eliot and Moreau ten years back, but all she does say, after a slight pause, is, “Well, good. That’ll make it simpler. You can explain about the dreams, but we’ll be in the States by the end of the week.”

Eliot laughs again, more genuinely. “Yeah, okay. It’s— It’ll be good to see you all. I miss you.”

“We miss you too,” Andy says, very gently, and ends the call before Eliot has to find a way to do it.

When he gets back inside, Parker and Hardison are dressed and sitting at the folding table. Both of them lift their heads as he approaches.

“Where’d you go?” Hardison asks.

“Had to call a friend.” Eliot makes a face. The time for prevarication is over, but that doesn’t mean he has a damn clue how to explain this. Until right now, he’s been the baby of the gang. “Andy, her name is Andy. She’s another one. Like us.”

“Like us, like us, okay,” Hardison says. “What—what does that mean, exactly? We—you got shot. Parker got shot. I had a broken leg. We all—” He shakes his head. “What happened?”

Eliot takes a breath, opens his mouth, closes it again. Finally, bluntly, he says, “You died. We all did.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Hardison says. There’s an uncharacteristic snap to his voice. He sounds genuinely angry for the first time. Scared, too. He sounds scared. Eliot wishes like hell there was anything at all he could do to fix that, but all he has to offer is the truth.

He sighs and says, to Parker, “You got a knife?”

She reaches back without breaking her eerily intent gaze to scoop a switchblade off the table and toss it to him. Eliot plucks it out of the air and opens it, then takes a deep breath, spreads his left hand out, and drives the blade into it until the point emerges from his palm. Blood dribbles onto the floor; Hardison jolts forward with a horrified noise.

Parker is still just watching him, cool-eyed and assessing. He pulls the blade out and holds up his hand so that they can watch the hole he just made heal in seconds.

“Oh shit,” Hardison says faintly. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Parker stares at him a moment longer, then holds out her hand. “Can I do that?”

“It’ll still hurt,” Eliot warns her, but he hands the knife back. She cleans it carelessly on a shop rag, then tests the edge of it thoughtfully.

Hardison rubs a hand over his mouth, then says, carefully, “Babe, please don’t stab yourself. I can’t watch that twice in a row.”

“It would heal, though.” She looks up and fixes Eliot with a burning look. “Right?”

Eliot sighs. “Right.”

She nods slowly. “That wasn’t the first time you died. Was it.”

“Not by a long shot.”

Hardison looks up at that, eyes narrowed. “When was the first time?”

“1861,” Eliot sighs. “I was guarding a mail coach in the Nebraska Territory, and we were attacked, and...”

“Eighteen—eighteen sixty-one. Okay.”

“Sorry.”

“For being old as balls?”

It startles a laugh out of him. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And there’s more of you.” Hardison pauses. “Of us.”

“Yeah. Four—” He pauses, winces. Thinks of Quynh, drowning and drowning under the ocean. Her deaths have been in his dreams for well over a hundred years. She’s been a constant companion, even if he’s never met her and probably never will. “Five more.”

“Are they older than you, or younger?”

“Older. Lots older.”

“So what you’re saying, basically,” Hardison says, “is that we’re immortal.”

“Yeah,” Eliot says dryly, “that was the general gist of it.”

Parker is starting to smile, wild in a way that’s almost inhuman. “Oh, I’m going to jump off the Sears Tower without a harness.”

“Babe,” Hardison says again, but he sounds distracted as he pulls a tablet toward him.

“You’ll still die,” Eliot tells her.

“Yeah,” she says dismissively, “but I’ll come back. Right?”

“Please don’t jump off the Sears Tower,” Hardison says absently. He chews on his lower lip as he does something on the tablet, shifting lights on the screen reflecting in his eyes. “Okay. Good news, Nate and Sophie are okay. Bad news, Sophie is in the hospital and Nate’s been taken into custody in Highpoint Tower.” He looks up and meets Eliot’s eyes, expression challenging. “We need to get him out.”

Eliot nods, relieved. “Yeah. We do.”

Hardison nods too. He looks a little easier now—with a task at hand, with proof that the others are still alive, with the knowledge that he’s still him, Eliot doesn’t know. “Okay. That’s what we’ll do. And when we’re done we’re gonna come back here and you’re gonna answer all of our questions. Right?”

Eliot considers that moment on the river bank when he thought they both were dead. He considers the interrogation Hardison is going to subject him to, and the batshit insane stunts that Parker is going to pull, and he feels himself smiling, broad and helpless. “Anything you want.”

#leverage #the old guard #my fic #blood and gore #??#i guess

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soradragon · 5 years ago

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Purple Hyacinth

First Bakugou x reader and I think this one has become one of my favourites! I put my entire being into making this so I hope you all like this just as much as me! ^^

Thank you for helping me edit this @xxbyimm and @jinks-world !! love you guys!!!

If you want to be tagged in the upcoming fics don’t be afraid to ask me!^^

Masterlist

Bakugou x reader

Warnings; angst and fluff and idiotic pinning

Anyway, enjoy^^

~~~~~~~

As he walked, Bakugou pulled a hand through his hair. He just got back from the infirmary and the bandages around his back weren’t the only evidence of what happened this morning, for his arms and hands were still trembling. The confrontation with you played over and over again in his head, still affecting him.

In truth, you hadn't punched him that bad. He knew you could have done way worse, but you held back - even though your anger somehow had gotten the best of you.

You had been shouting at him, your eyes filled with tears that had yet to be shed. Bakugou doubted he could forget that look in your eyes anytime soon.

Black ooze mixed with white had shot out of the bulbs from the centres of your palms, forming a tentacle. It had slapped him across the face, it strangely felt like plastic filled with water had hit him.

The force of your blow had been enough to launch him through the terrain. The stinging pain of rocks and rubble digging in his back still felt nothing like the dull, aching inside Bakugou's chest. It constricted his heart with strings of pain, tugging and pulling at it mercilessly like he was a mere rag doll. His fist clenched around the fabric of his uniform right where his heart throbbed painfully inside his chest.

Frustration and confusion plagued Bakugou’s mind as he relived the way you had been shouting at him. You treated him like he betrayed you, with that, hurting him more than he would like to admit.

Usually, you were a soft-spoken and tender girl, completely opposite of the one that had been standing before him. Kirishima had to hold you back before you could march up to him and do who knows what, but you struggled in his hold. When it became clear you couldn’t free yourself from the firm grip you were in, you started to shout. You yelled at Bakugou about how insensitive he was, about how he didn't care about anyone but himself.

When you finally ripped yourself from Kirishima’s hold and stormed in Bakugou’s way, it didn't occur to him to duck away or to evade your attack. The things you said to him before you used your quirk had stunned him into silence and glued him to the ground.

Even now, hours after the event, your words continued to bounce around inside his mind, haunting him with the image of your tear-stained face.

"So we are not worthy enough to be here!? We shouldn't be here because some of us have a hard time controlling our quirks!? So you say we are worthless!? Fuck you, Bakugou!"

Bakugou was at a loss. So many thoughts consumed him, pushing to get even a second of the spotlight. Why did he even care? You were just you, so why did it bother him seeing you cry like that? Why did he want to comfort you and beat the living shit out of anything that had made you sad?

Which obviously included himself then… And that...confused him...

How did he set you off the way he did? He always made sure his actions and the things he said had never bothered you.

You'd laugh that annoyingly perky laugh of yours when he exploded - figuratively and literally.

Why was it so different this time? What did he say to make you so sad? He did have a vague hunch but he wasn't that sure about it.

One thing was clear. He wanted to make you smile again, he wanted to fix whatever he had done to make you mad with him. If he had to punch someone (or himself) to make it happen, he damn sure would do it without a second thought.

Bakugou felt determination burn within him as he walked through the halls towards the dorms with a purpose. He was going to make amends, and find out what he had said to set you off.

*(*)*(*)*

...It was harder than he originally thought...

He was standing right there, in front of your door. He just had to raise his hand and knock.

Easy as that. Couldn't have been easier.

And yet, Bakugou hesitated at the last second. He just stood there, frozen, in front of your door with his fist raised. He must’ve looked so damn ridiculous. Why was this so much easier in his head?!

Kirishima had come up to Bakugou when he wandered inside the common-room looking around him. Suspecting you would be in the common-room like normally, but you weren’t there. Kirishima told him ( before he could even ask) that you went to your room after getting detention.

Well, that backfired. Originally, he was going to put the thing in your room and leave before you would know that he was in your room.

His only plan exploded right in his face.

Now, there was only one option left...and he didn't like it.

Come on, it can't be that hard! Just knock on the damn door and get on with it!

Bakugou scolded himself, shaking off the last thoughts of going back. Pumping himself up to take that last, final step.

He was ready.

Raising his hand towards the door and -

You opened the door before he could knock...

Crap!

Your eyes widened slightly when you saw Bakugou standing before you. But your surprise was short-lived, and your face quickly scrunched up into a scowl. You did not look happy, not happy at all.

"What do you want Bakugou?"

Bakugou resisted the urge to flinch when you spat his name out with such venom. But he also noticed the slight crack in your voice. You were still hurt.

Not knowing what to do with himself, he mirrored your expression and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Both of you were taking each other head-on, glaring at each other with fury and an annoying stubbornness. But that didn't really bother Bakugou, because above all, he secretly admired your perseverance.

It was the puffy red eyes that dismayed him. You had been crying...

His mind raced.

What now? This wasn’t the plan, what should he say? Fuck, he had not prepared for this. This wasn't going as it should have!

Bakugou cursed himself. His body didn't cooperate, he was frozen stiff.

After a moment of awkward silence and stubbornly glaring at each other, you finally caved in. You sighed frustratedly and said: "if you're not gonna say anything, then I'm closing the door. Goodbye Bakugou."

That was enough to snap Bakugou right out of his stupor. He couldn’t allow this to happen after all he has done! Bakugou’s instincts took over and he reacted without thinking. He grabbed the door before you could fully close it, almost getting his fingers slammed in the door and the doorframe. Bakugou didn't pull, he still was giving you an out.

You gritted your teeth, Bakugou was so infuriating, it angered you. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't make yourself hate him. What was worse is that he didn't even know you couldn't make yourself close the damn door.

Why did this boy affect you so much? You gave him one final glare before giving in. He won.

"What is it that you want?" you hissed.

This time Bakugou didn’t freeze this time he pushed his pride aside and he was ready to tell the truth. And he would succeed. With effort, Bakugou pushed the words past his lips. A non-filtered sentence and then some came right out of his mouth. He just hoped it didn't disappoint. He felt stupid like that idiot Deku...How humiliating!

"Take this! I hope this thing will clear up what I've done or whatever..."

Bakugou shoved the bush of purple Hyacinths he had brought with him, into your face as he spoke. The bell-looking blooms almost got pushed right into your nose.

Bakugou glared towards the ground, not daring to even glance towards you. His entire body burned in shame, he really wanted to blast some stuff to pieces.

What he didn't know was that you had taken the flowers, immediately recognizing the meaning behind them the moment he shoved them into your face. You felt the sharp, sudden feeling of new tears coming, but you didn't really care. These were happy tears.

One thought invaded your mind, letting all the frustrations and irritations fade.

He remembered.

A giggle had escaped your lips when you saw Bakugou blush. Ah, he was trying so hard to apologize. Your heart melted, right at that moment you knew that you would always forgive him. For he - even though he didn't let it show - took the time to listen to your rambles about flowers, and little nonsenses...and he took it to heart, he remembered them...

Isn't that worth forgiving?

Bakugou's heart skipped a beat when he heard your sudden giggle. That soft and annoyingly endearing laugh of yours. His head snapped up, and he stared at you, his mouth slightly agape and eyes wide.

Right at that moment, he was convinced he just had gone to heaven. Or an angel had gone down to earth and was now standing before him - either was a possibility - You left him speechless.

You stepped to the side, fully opening the door for him. It was an invitation to go inside, and he took it.

"Midoriya told me you would come and try to apologize to me one day, " you said, opening a cupboard and pulling out a pot and a sack with dirt. Putting the flowers in the flowerpot, covering the roots with dirt and watering them. "You can take a seat if you want, no need to stand there."

Your back was towards Bakugou as you spoke. He grumbled under his breath, staring at the ground. Not daring to look up at you as he took a stool to sit down on.

Of course, that Deku would tell you that...

You took your time admiring the flowers Bakugou had given you. They were a beautiful purple-ish blue colour, you already knew they didn't come from just a flower shop.

These beautiful babies still had their roots. No, they came from a farm, which meant he had gone through all that trouble to get them for you.

You felt your heart flutter inside your chest, taking a deep breath to steady yourself and prepare to face him and the questions he could and would definitely have.

Bakugou could feel your nervousness radiate off of you as you faced him.

This awkward tension was killing both of you - Bakugou wanted to high-tail the fuck out of there and he was convinced that you were thinking the same. He knew you well enough, so he could tell.

Bakugou hated this. He hated being the reason why you were behaving this tense. He hated how he felt so many emotions but couldn't carry them over in the right way.

He wanted to tell you so much: about the way you made him feel when your smile was directed at him. About the way you made him feel in general. He wanted to reach out and take you into his arms and never let go. But even as he felt that urge taking him over, he withheld himself.

Bakugou didn’t feel he was deserving of that title which would give him the freedom to do so: to give you the attention and affection you deserve. So instead he glared at his hands, hunching over to block you from seeing him.

You, on the other hand, were in conflict with your own mind. You wanted to explain to him that everything was alright, it was actually not his fault, to begin with. But knowing him he wouldn't accept such a lame and vague attempt at reassurance, no, he knew you wouldn't snap at him - or anyone for that matter - for no reason. You would either have to go all out and tell him everything. Or, keep it all to yourself and tell nothing, leaving Bakugou with the guilt for something he didn't do.

You just couldn't do that to him. So you made your decision and went with the first option. You took a seat on your bed and you looked at him, giving him a calm, understanding smile.

"I am glad that you came to me sooner than everyone else thought. That means a lot to me."

Bakugou's eyes widened slightly, lifting his head. He just stared at you.

You glanced towards his back, the smile on your face falling slightly. Emotions were swimming in your eyes which Bakugou couldn't place.

"I-I hope it doesn't hurt as much as it looked...S-sorry for throwing you back there...I've put too much strength behind it, I-"

"Tsk...It's fine..."

Bakugou cut you off before you could go on any further. He turned his head to the side because everything was better than looking straight at your hurt face.

"Didn't hurt that bad..." Bakugou mumbled under his breath, pressing his hand against his mouth. You almost didn't hear him.

A relieved sigh left your lips. "I'm glad." You whispered and suddenly it felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

Bakugou glanced towards you, he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. He felt like an idiot. That smile of yours would be the death of him before any of the villains would get to him.

You were a weird one that's for sure, was it possible for you to have more than one quirk?

None of you said anything after that. The air was getting awkward again. Both of you could feel it. This was getting ridiculous.

"Thank you for remembering my rambles about flowers," you began, slowly letting go of your nerves. "I didn't think you would remember the meaning behind them, but you did. Thank you."

Bakugou grunted, resisting the urge to look away from you. "It's nothing-"

"It is! This means a lot to me! Flowers have always been a huge part of my mom's life. And flowers and their meanings were everything to her. A-and they mean a lot to me too..."

You spoke up enthusiastically, almost jumping in Bakugou's face in your excitement.

Bakugou stuttered when you suddenly grabbed both of his hands as you rambled on.

"Ever since I was little, my mother taught me the symbols behind flowers and the passion behind them! I would always find blue cornflowers by my bedside when I got ill, as a wish for good fortune."

You practically had stars in your eyes as you spoke. "You see, when I was younger I used to have a very fragile immune system. I was sick all the time. It became even worse when my quirk manifested. Flowers always made me happy, and-and..."

You suddenly stopped, realising the position you were in, you jumped away as if Bakugou had burned you. Bakugou rose from his seat in an attempt to follow, his arm reaching out towards you in a longing manner. Before he acknowledged what he was doing, he let his arm fall to his side reluctantly.

This was harder than both of you originally had thought.

"I'm so sorry!” You murmured as you hastily tried to explain yourself, while furiously blushing and flailing your arms about “I just started rambling without thinking!"

You looked like a flustered tomato, Bakugou thought. Shit, that made you even more adorable.

He cleared his throat, stuffing his hands in his pockets."Huh. Your immune system got weaker because of your quirk? What kind of weird shit are you talking about?"

He knew it came out rather curtly, as he tried to hide the abashment in his voice. He immediately regretted snapping at you like that, but you didn't seem to be bothered by it. Instead, you sat down again.

This was going to be a long story, Bakugou could tell by the way you looked at him. Open and trusting.

And it gave him a new sense of adoration towards you. Opening yourself to him with your past. Bakugou sat down on the chair without noticing it himself, waiting for you to start your story.

"You know that my quirk has to do with black all-destroying acid, and white healing ooze right?"

Bakugou nodded.

"Well,” you went on. “My own body creates those oozes. Though my skin is immune to the black acid, my insides are not." You sighed, touching the spot on your neck which looks more pinkish than the rest of your body. "My quirk is called inner yang-yin ooze. A quirk, which resembles the ying-yang symbol, yang; the symbol of female and devastation. Ying; the symbol of male and life. When my quirk manifested, I wasn't prepared for what was to come."

You shivered and took a moment before you went on again.

"My insides were scorched, luckily a friend of ours with an erasure quirk stopped the yang ooze from scorching my insides. It does mean that I need to use my quirk constantly, covering the yang ooze with the yin. Sometimes I lose control over my quirk and some part of my body will be scorched." You explained, pointing towards the pinkish spot.

There was a short silence before you took a deep breath.

"So yeah...that's also the reason why I flipped out when you said that some of us were weak and 'if you couldn't control your quirk properly you were never meant to be here in the first place.' It brought some bad memories to the surface. It wasn't really your fault I got mad, but you just… triggered me, I guess." You concluded, fidgeting with your fingers as you waited for Bakugou to reply.

He was quiet, staring at you with wide eyes. You didn't know what to think...

But after a moment or two, Bakugou moved, hunching his shoulders and casting his eyes to the ground.

Fuck...fuck...

Bakugou felt like a moron, guilt seeped into his skin, like a shiver down the spine. He had no right to say stuff like that when he, himself never went through something like that.

"Fuck..."Bakugou mumbled under his breath, pressing his hand against his face.

Oh god, he had told you, you didn't belong here...

Bakugou felt his stomach churn at the thought, his thoughts quickly spiralling into an abyss of negativity. Each voice shouted at him, berating him for his ignorance and stupidity. Bakugou wanted to rip his hair out as the voices came at him without mercy.

They were deafening, drowning out everything else. And suddenly Bakugou wasn't in your room anymore, as it morphed into a prison of black nothingness.

Until suddenly the voices stopped...it all stopped, and Bakugou felt like he could breathe again. Your soft voice pulled him out of the black abyss and your touch brought him back to his senses. He was in your room again, curled into himself. You sat on your knees in front of him, your worried face close to his. His head cupped in your hands.

"Are you alright, Bakugou?" Your soft, concerned voice did things to him.

"Uh...Yeah..."

*(*)*(*)*

"Y/N...please...dammit Y/N...!"

You heard a faint voice in the distance, your head felt fuzzy.

"...Why did you just run at that villain without thinking…!?"

Warm little droplets fell on your cheek.

"...Stop being so damn reckless Y/N...!"

T-this voice...why was it so familiar...?

"You think no one cares...b-but...I do, you damn idiot..."

You felt your conscious slowly slip away again, you felt something soft touch your forehead before sleep took you.

*(*)*(*)*

You groaned, slowly sitting up.

"What happened...?" You mumbled as you rubbed your eyes, getting rid of the sleepiness. The moonlight streamed through your window, illuminating the room in a white sheen. You were in a hospital bed. The nightstand was covered in 'get well soon' cards, they were from class 1-A. Your class.

One thing stood out more than the other things. It was a small vase, standing at the corner of your nightstand, Blue salvia, blue cornflowers and red tulips.

You immediately knew who gave these to you.

Warm feelings fluttered inside your stomach, you smiled softly.

flower meanings:

purple Hyacinths; (I'm sorry)

Blue cornflowers; (a wish of good luck/good luck charm)

Blue salvia; (I'm thinking of you)

red tulips; (declaration of love/ dedication towards you)

~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, and keep soaring high!^^

_____

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