#v: Skull leader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neteyamsilly · 2 years ago

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 3

summary ;; Sullys stick together. You learn the hard way what happens when you don't. PART 2 | PART 4 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; descriptions of blood and violence incoming, beware! shout out to the ppl who predicted the stuff in this chapter LMAO so um... i couldnt tag everybody who asked when i said i would... there's apparently a limit to how many people you can tag. please forgive me 😭 im not taking any tagging requests anymore since i cant do it. so sorry about that,,,, seriously also, thank you so much for 1160 followers! i still cant fucking believe it... daddy issues solidarity 🤙🏻🤙🏻

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

Rain covered the rustling of clothes and the click-clacks of readjusted weapons as concentrated silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the morning mist swallowing up the forest.

No answer.

What face could your parents be making right now? Heartbeat in your ears, you tried to hide your shame by looking down, but a jerk on your queue set you straight. the avatar holding you digging his gun sharper in your neck.

“What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” The leader’s stare found yours. “Let me give you a quick remedy.”

They’d linked your device into another for the sound to be relayed outside and the voice detection range could be wider, in other words, they wanted your father to hear what was happening to you. Your braid was yanked as if the one pulling it wanted to snap it right off your skull, no amount of training could stop the scream torn out of you — all the show just for him.

The line was deadly still, save for some rustling, crackling static that you could have easily mistaken for hissing.

A ghost of a smile shadowed the man’s face, he extended his rifle to tip your chin up. “Guess we’re gonna have to be louder than that to wake daddy up sweetheart.”

“Stop!” Father yelled, the unexpected timing of it made you jump. That earned him a group chuckle from the avatars around you. “Stop.”

He talked. He didn’t leave you to fend for yourself in this. Thank Eywa!

“That was fast,” the captor behind you said.

“Thought you’d have forgotten English by now, playing native.”

“...Quaritch?”

Quaritch. That awful, awful man from the stories your mother killed? Spider’s father? But… But he was dead. How could sky people know how to cheat death?

“In the flesh.”

Father’s voice wavered, you’d think he was scared if you didn’t know any better. “That’s impossible.”

“Back from the grave just for you, Jake.”

“Then I’ll just have to put you right back where you belong.”

The squad of avatars openly laughed at that, boisterous, confident, arrogant.

This was Toruk Makto they were openly mocking. None of them would last for one minute in front of him and yet—

“Quite the teary lovers reunion we’re havin’ here, but you got busy while I was gone, huh?” He looked down at you again, yellow eyes filled with mirth. “I have this tiny bird here we plucked right out of the air. Imagine my surprise to learn she’s yours. Is this the only one, or you got yourself a litter now?”

Silence again.

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point as always.” The smug smile momentarily twitched into an unamused, withheld resentment. This man was nearing the end of his capacity to keep taunting. “I don’t think I’ll tell yet. You know I love to be a tease.”

Your ears rotated upwards in treacherous hope at your father's next words. “If you touch one hair on my daughter’s head I swear to god—”

“You exchanged your god for this shithole, Jake. Let’s not kid ourselves now.” Any hint of playing around was gone, now, eyes fixated on something on the ground ahead. “Your daughter will be my guest for a while. Think of it as summer vacation. Don’t worry, unlike the Na’vi, we’re very hospitable.” His thumb brushed over a button. “Until next time.”

“Fucking bastard—”

With one beep, the call was over. Quaritch was touching the band around his neck this time. “Iron Sky, Blue on Actual. We are standing by for extract, over.”

You began to tussle against the avatar behind your back. “No! No! Let me go!”

“Be advised. We're bringing in a high value prisoner.”

“Dad’s really gonna flay her alive this time, I can’t wait.” Lo’ak, positioned just behind the flap of the tent to not be seen from the outside as he peeked with one eyeball just in case, was watching his parents vehemently yell at each other in whispers that started out loud, but got hushed probably to not reach him and his siblings. Aggressive limb gestures were flying in the air, and at one point, his mom had tried to run off somewhere and was forcefully stopped.

Dad was currently pacing around like a wild animal with one hand permanently stuck rubbing his face, and mom turned away from him, holding her forehead. “They’re really going at it, huh?

Kiri was not amused with his insistence to breach their privacy. “What’s so interesting about watching this kind of thing?”

“Catharsis?” He remarked in English, feeling sophisticated. “You remember Spider talking about it? Purification and emotional cleansing through relief that you’re not going through the horrible tragedy, the character on stage is.”

“You’re normally so dumb.” Lo’ak bore his fangs at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Your brain only comes back on when it’s about chaos.”

“I’m petty, and what about it?” A tilt of his head to dare Kiri to ask for her point, then his attention was thwarted by an incomprehensible cry from his mother. She was pushing dad from his arms, furious like Lo’ak had never seen before as the upset man tried to hold her more. “Look at mom and dad breathing fire at each other! You think they’re discussing how to punish her?”

“Stop spying already skxawng, mom will be angry if she sees you. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen here!” His ears were tilting at every angle to make out any words that reached to him as nothing but a cluster of broken sounds. “Why did they have to go far?”

“Because they wanted to be away from peeping toms like you?”

“And you’re still here too, so?” Lo’ak gave his sister a meaningful look. “I know you wanna see too.”

“Ugh!” Kiri shoved out her tongue at him, eyes dead. “And it’s not funny, by the way! They are fighting. Stop being happy about it.”

He knew they were fighting about his older sister, and that she’d get all the heat and fallout from it the moment she was back. Lo’ak’s head was full of what he could get out of it, or what to ask her for in return for helping her out in her detention. So satisfying to be the sibling who wasn’t in trouble. He should do it more, actually. “It is funny when it’s not about me.”

“You’re sick for taking joy in another’s suffering.”

“Oh, I’m doomed, then.” Kiri took whatever fat was on his thin arm between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted. Lo’ak had to blink away the tears that rushed to his eyes, snatching his limb away from the displeased girl and pushing her away in return — he was annoyed at how much that hurt, why was that so damaging for no reason? “Yeouch! What the hell?”

“Will it kill you to practice mindfulness once in a while?”

He raised his voice’s pitch to mock the wobbly, ear-scratching whine of yours, and exaggerated his body movements to match, too. “I hate you!”

“Gross.” She tried to shove him, he caught her hands in the air, pushing her back and getting the spiteful annoyance of his sister as a result. “Dad was actually hurt by that.” Lo’ak’s eyes could roll down the hills by themselves the way that sounded, but Kiri, as always, was bothered so inexplicably. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”

That bad feeling was the herald of dad’s upcoming cranky ill-temper and what would follow after you inevitably had to come crawling back home with tail between your legs, Neteyam dragging you from the scruff of your neck. Lo’ak was refusing to sleep so he could enjoy the fight.

“Me personally, am over the moon, ikran duty is so gonna be off my hands. For months.” He halted at the idea that just went off in his head, tail swishing with the hype. “I wanna tell Spider. I’ll go get him.”

“Absolutely not. You sneak off now and they’ll laser-focus all the anger on you!” Kiri was pointing a warning hand at him, but slowly lowered it, one corner of her mouth twitching up. She was holding back amusement. “Hey, you know what? Nevermind, you can go. I want you to go. I have to see this.”

“Ha-ha.” Lo’ak’s tail stuttered, losing enthusiasm. “Attempted murder, much?”

“Guys, what’s going on…”

Upon the unexpected voice that wobbled its way into their conversation, they both looked down to see Tuk gripping her weaved blanket with one hand and dragging it on the floor as she made her way to them, the other rubbing her eyes one by one so sleep dripping from them would fly away.

“See, you woke her up! What do we do now?”

“You woke her up by yelling, why is it my fault now?”

“I didn’t, you—”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“Guys…” Tuk pulled on Kiri’s hand, and the foreign object she was clutching the whole time distracted Lo’ak. It must have dug into the older one’s skin that she carefully picked it up to inspect. The ear pieces they took off before they went to sleep. This one was Kiri’s. “Neteyam’s calling. You didn’t hear…”

Grinning, Lo’ak snatched it up and skipped backwards and put it in his own ear, ignoring Kiri’s hushed yells to give it back now and the groans about ruining it with his stinky, cheesy earwax. He had to keep bouncing around, the girl was chasing him around the tent. “Bro! Tell her she’s sooo dead. Dad’s literally keeping guard in front of the tent—”

“Lo’ak, quit it.” Neteyam’s tremulous answer was harsh. Lo’ak’s smile wavered as he dodged Kiri’s arm and jumped over discarded cups on the floor, knocking over wooden spoons. “I need you to tell me what’s happening over there.”

“Aw, baby’s so scared to come back she needs to make a game plan first?” He laughed, slapping Kiri’s hands away. “I’ll only tell if she gives back my karambit knife.”

His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated.

“Yeah, I’m not letting that one go and I’m also making it your problem—”

“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

“She isn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” Kiri bumped into him, unable to stop herself at the right time to hit the brakes due to how abruptly Lo’ak had stilled. They’d almost tumbled over. “Dad told me to wait until he contacts her and I’ve been waiting for minutes. Now tell me what’s going on over there.”

“Bro, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!”

He turned to Kiri in disgusted discomfort, who had damn-near glued her own ear to his to hear better. “Forget months, I’ll be free for years. Dad’s not gonna let her take one step off the camp anymore.”

The girl would stomp her foot if she was a couple years younger. “What’s this about?”

And Neteyam would shake Lo’ak from the neck for ignoring him this long while he was fussing. “Tell me already you—!”

“They’re having a fight bro.” He leaned better to peep outside the tent. “Yeah.”

“She came back? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was uncommon for Neteyam to completely disregard the previous input he’d been given. Lo’ak didn’t understand this level of anxiety. “Are you having a brain fart? Would we be having this conversation if she was here? It’s mom and dad who are fighting.”

It wasn’t that serious — on the contrary, his sister was quite simple to understand. She didn’t want to be found and had changed her place of hiding. End of story. The golden boy’s worrywart nature was keeping him from reasoning.

“Don’t be a smartass.” Lo’ak practically felt Neteyam’s want to land a loud smack on his back. “Were they only able to reach her, then? Is that why they’re fighting?”

“You’re asking me?—”

The older boy began to grumble under his breath. “This is why I called Kiri.”

Said girl’s ears perked up over picking her name from the static-surrounded line. Lo’ak snorted. “Ouch, bro.”

Kiri shook him from the elbow. “Me? What about me?”

“Great title for your autobiography.”

Kiri raised her arms to give him a beating and Lo’ak was already bolting away from anywhere near her vicinity. The siblings didn’t even take notice of the line with Neteyam going dark as they focused on their own play-scuffle for a while.

Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.

It wasn’t Tuk.

Shoulders pulled into himself, he turned around torturously freaked out to find dad standing there like a ghost, his tactical vest packed to the brim and gun hanging from his back the way they wore their bows.

The blue of his skin had faded into an ashier tone, amber eyes wide and bloodshot, the veins on the normally put together Olo’eyktan’s forehead were bulging, even a socially clueless person would pick up something was seriously wrong. He commanded cold authority of the battlefield simply by the way he stood, immediately triggering Lo’ak into soldier mode.

He took a few steps back, chin hanging low at the lightless, unblinking stare his father pushed down on him. “Sir.”

All the sleepiness that had Tuk unresponsive and nodding off through Lo’ak and Kiri’s push-and-pull was knocked out of her at the sight, she was now unnerved and frightened. “Dad?”

The man’s intensity was somehow eased by his youngest’s reaction, but he held back from taking her in his arms like he normally would to comfort her, didn’t even care to remark on how they were supposed to be sleeping — how they’d woken their little sister up, instead focusing on Lo’ak. “I want you all to listen well. Your mother and I are heading out for a minute and your grandmother will be with you soon — Neteyam is Oscar-Mike to come back here. Stay put and don’t go anywhere, understand?” His finger pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t cause trouble. Looking at you boy, what I’m saying here is Marine proof. I’m at the end of my wits here, don’t even think about slipping a tail out of this tent.”

The potent severity of whatever the hell was making him this agitated to the point of a voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable got the wheels in Lo’ak’s head whirring. “What’s happening, dad?”

“One child!” The thundering shout came down on him with the force of a falling mountain, making Lo’ak jump out of his skin. “I need one child of mine to listen to me without asking any questions today!” Dad’s voice broke when Tuk whined, he shut his eyes as if he was in physical pain, and flexed his jaw, shaking his head and pulling the girl in from her shoulders to soothe her. Still no direct hugging. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Lo’ak said immediately, distraught by the over-the-top reaction, hands unknowingly curling into fists by his sides. Whenever that sky people word ‘Jesus’ slipped from dad not having any control between the border of his two languages, the boy knew it was demanding gravitas. “I heard you CFB.”

“Good.” He thinned his lips. “Kiri, please.”

Lo’ak frowned at dad basically asking for her to play her brother’s keeper in Neteyam’s absence in two simple words.

She nodded. “I know dad.”

He caught a glimpse of his mother running in the distance, her father’s bow in her hand.

Just what was happening? What had you done?

Eywa, it had to be sky people.

Dad saw the realization in his face. “Stay,” he emphasized, one final time before he was also gone with the wind.

Lo’ak wouldn’t have obeyed if it wasn’t for his grandmother arriving just in time, keeping them busy with a story about the arrival of a wounded ikran with no rider.

You realized the gunshot wound puncturing your upper abdomen was there the whole time when the avatars put first aid and later slapped a rectangular sky people bandage on it that helped clotting or whatever it was called, the pain simply not being there had played a big factor in it with the body running on pure adrenaline.

(Crouching close to you, Quaritch had bragged, “We aren’t so bad after all, huh, sweetheart? It’s called civilization. Your daddy ever taught you about that?”

Civilization, your ass. They needed you. There was nothing well-meaning about what they were doing.

And the nickname had ticked you off, sullying the good memories of father, your head slammed into his nose in full power after a hiss.

“Now my daddy taught me that!” you spat in English as other avatars had tackled you. The man claiming to be Quaritch was smiling as he wiped away the blood trickling down his nose.

What was the point in trying to patch you up if they were going to do this, then?)

You were now a part of an elaborate trap to lure your father in. Bait. The worst position to be in. This was the kind of trouble Lo’ak would get himself in. It was too late to go back now, the mess you’d gotten yourself into had made itself known.

Think, think! How could you get out of this?

Within the unsleeping forest’s nightly noises chirping all around you, a specific call in the air halted your train of thought.

It was mom.

Your parents were here. But how? How did they know where you were, exactly? Dread and expectation pooled in your heart, coexisting in a nauseating mix.

Father must be thinking that you already caused so much trouble, they couldn’t know you were also hurt, you’d never hear the end of it.

But there was no time to think, the pain you should have been feeling was ebbing its way into your body, and she was calling in the night to inform you to get ready.

All hell broke loose when the man who held you tight from your queue was shot right from the back of his head with an arrow, collapsing right on top of you.

You couldn’t get away in time to not be crushed by his dead body and promptly got squished between the mossy soil and him, his gun was hurting you, the wound on your stomach getting in the way of you using your core to push the body off.

How many minutes had passed with you struggling to get him off as a hurricane of bullets roared, you didn’t know (it hurt, pain was climbing towards the threshold) — mom was able to break free from the weight of a whole AMP suit, as you’d heard as a child, a Na’vi was naturally strong, but you couldn’t even crawl out. Panic was a rope tightening around your ribcage as your breathing picked up

All of a sudden, the weight was gone, and the only remaining thing from it was the big gun left from the avatar you found yourself hugging for dear life, eyes wide as saucers. Before you could see whoever had done that, you got hoisted up right back on your feet and tried to run, only to be held tighter and pulled behind the trunk of a tree.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Clumsy, overwrought hands were cupping your cheeks and — and oh, it was your father.

You didn’t know whether to be afraid or cry from happiness.

Once he was sure you registered it was him by staring intently in your eyes with that edge of the softness you’d missed so much, his hold shifted to your neck and around your shoulders, and he gave you a look-over, checking for any wounds. Too bad what he was searching for was behind the gun you were holding. “Are you hurt?” He shook you when you were too stunned to answer. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” you shook your head automatically, it was weak against the explosions of bullets raining down all around you, but father had picked it up regardless, only focusing on you for the moment.

In the darkness, nobody could see the blood running down your body, that bandage had come out at one point.

“On my mark, we’re gonna run, okay?” He nodded to you, tomahawk axe in hand coated in a dark substance, commanding your full attention. “Follow me. Ready? Ready?”

You weren’t ready at all, stomach feeling like it was being stabbed at every heartbeat, but you couldn’t tell him that.

Instead, you ran like hell, moored by father’s taut clutch on your forearm pulling you forward to match his incredible speed dodging roots, bushes and branches.

Things stopped moving only when you were enveloped in mom’s embrace, consciousness almost flying off from the relief that washed over you. Kisses were peppered along your hairline and forehead, her mumbling your name in gratitude blending with your panting. Tears burned bitter in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry, not when father was looking at you like that, chest rising and falling. You instantaneously remembered why you were holding that gun at the intensity he was radiating, tail escaping between your legs and letting mom hold you.

At least this way he wasn’t able to objurgate you.

Over her shoulder, you saw three ikrans instead of two. Heart soaring, you were skipping towards him in pure astonishment in a heartbeat. “Hey buddy!”

His head lowered down towards you in bird-like movements. In this angle, it looked like he was giving you a razor sharp-toothed big grin.

“He brought us here,” your mother said. The hand you were going to pet the ikran with stopped midway at her dejected tone. “You have passed Iknimaya, I take it. On your own.”

You didn’t know what to say, feeling immense guilt at having made her this disappointed over it. If this was any normal situation, any normal fight at all, you would have shot back with, ‘Well father told me to do it.’

But you were tired.

Your pain threshold was being threatened, and you needed to get to your grandmother before any of your parents saw the situation you were in and this escalated into the worst fight you were going to get into in your entire life.

Father’s only response was a dead cold, “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

He didn’t talk to you after that. Not one word.

Squatting on an ikran’s back on a flight with an abdominal gunshot wound you were trying to hide was not an option unless you wanted to pass out midair and was looking for a free dive, so you were all but hugging the poor thing’s neck like a monkey, trusting him to follow your parents while you concentrated on mentally fighting to level out the pain.

Nonsensical as it was to believe the gun stuck between your ikran’s neck and your stomach was acting as a tampon to lessen the bleeding, you were concerned with how dumb it must have looked to father and mom, how incompetent they must think of you that their daughter didn’t even know how to ride right.

Got an ikran for nothing.

Would they be less proud of you seeing how funny it appeared, nevermind that it was to contain your pain all the while not trying to faint?

But no words were exchanged about it.

Father clamping up right after he’d made sure you weren’t hurt (yikes) had resulted in this awkward trip succumbing in total silence. They had sandwiched you between them, only necessary space for the ikrans to beat their wings freely left, so close that you could discern the scariest look on father yet, deepening the lines of age in his face while simultaneously expressing his barely contained desire to kill someone.

A ticking time bomb.

Forget speaking at all, but not only did he never address you until now, he didn’t even look in your direction for once. You knew because staring at him for five minutes straight for him to just acknowledge your existence had proven to be unfruitful.

And the tears involuntarily streamed down your cheeks with how utterly worthless and alone that made you feel, trapped in this agony you couldn’t help but hide because he’d think you didn’t deserve to complain after bringing it upon yourself. You would rather bite your tongue and bear the pain than stay dreading his reaction.

Yeah, no, he couldn’t know.

Mom was looking over at you every one minute to make sure you were okay after her ears picked up on your sniffles, arrows of worry shot from her side sinking down your skin every single time, and you hated to make her this way.

Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.

Father had promptly jumped down, agile and making haste away somewhere, passing you by and giving the cold shoulder. You all but slid off your own ikran, managing to make the gun stay where it should be, as you couldn’t help but weakly call out to him for one drop of consolation. “Father…”

He didn’t stop for you, quickening his steps, but his ears twitched, the tail beating the air ferociously halting and lowering before it returned to the previous motions, and those were the only indications that he’d heard it Lima Charlie.

The man just didn’t want to talk to you.

And you had to make yourself believe it wasn’t the emotional devastation that had you falling down, but the wound sucking out all your energy now that you had gotten to safety.

“Ma’ite?” Mom rushed to you. “Ma’ite, what’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m okay, mom, it’s okay.” You were sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Thank goodness you still had the unbreakable willpower (and not the fear of Eywa put into you by father) to hold your shit together. “I’m okay. Just tired. My knees buckled. Weak, you know?” You swallowed, smiling. “I’m just… Just resting.”

Her gaze full of concern studied you, zeroing in on the gun you clung on for dear life against your stomach. Her hands lovingly brushed your hair, gripped your shoulders and elbows even though you were disgustingly clammy all over. It was grounding, anchoring within the ocean of pain washing over you in waves.

“Oh, why are you sweating so much? You’re freezing.” You clutched the gun harder in a panic when she grasped it, most likely to put it away. It was the wrong reaction to have, but you weren’t exactly in the position to function healthily.

Mom, as any other person would, got suspicious from it, her eyes flying up to your owlish ones — blanked out like a frightened animal. “You’re fine now,” she whispered, thankfully attributing it to how disturbed you must be, still not out of survival mode. “You are safe, my daughter. Mom is here.” She cupped your cheek, but every touch to your body hurt now, even when it was away from the gaping wound, still gushing blood, trickling down your hips and getting you scared that it’d be discovered once you stood up. “I’m here.” She searched your soul to know just why you were grimacing at her attempts of comforting. “I will take this now, you do not need it anymore.”

You snapped out of the gradually darkening gray haze mom’s lulling was laying you down gingerly into. “No, please don’t,” your breathing hitched. She was going to see. She couldn’t see. You had to avoid this somehow, as long as you could. Grandmother’s tent. You would make it, you had to. “I’ll… I’ll just sit here for a while, okay? I need to just… take a small break, and then I’ll… Can you go back? I’ll follow later. Father is angry, I don’t—”

“Nonsense.” Incredulous and enraged suddenly about something you couldn’t put a finger on, and before you could stop her, she tried to haul you up with her by gripping your upper arms — colors exploded behind your eyelids, getting you you to lose consciousness for two seconds, your vision flooding back in a starry kaleidoscope. When mom’s voice reached your ears, it was in staccato exclaims your ears were ringing too much to discern. She was shaking you.

You weren’t able to sit up straight anymore, leaning forward — mom had caught you, utterly confused and panicked at the same time. And then your head was lying on the crook of her elbow resting on her legs she’d tucked under herself. The moment you’d switched from sitting to straight up lying down was missing from your memories.

A baby being cradled. Yes, this is exactly what it was like. Gentle arms surrounded you amidst the pulsating sea of agony.

Your body was letting go, but your arms were vices around the gun, still holding that last line. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. They can’t know. Father will be so mad if he learns. “‘m okay… ‘st restin’…”

When your eyes cleared enough for the surroundings to be only a bit blurry, your mom was looking at the hand she’d just tried to take away the gun with, caked with your blood that had stained it, out of it and perplexed like she didn’t want to believe it.

Her gut-wrenchingly stunned numbness sent the misery clawing its way inside into overdrive, pulling your consciousness down to the earth from the clouds it was ascending to. “Not mine,” you forced out, but it came out as begging. Everything was falling apart. The plan was so simple, why couldn’t you do anything right? “Not mine. Please. Mom, it’s okay.”

“No…” Mumbling, she started sharply swaying back and forth, and with one brutally vigorous attack, she ripped the gun away from your arms, and hurled it away — then it was over. Your sob wasn’t due to the motion hurting you, it was all entirely for the broken wail of your mother at seeing the bloodied mess, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached down to press down at the pouring liquid. “No! No! Oh Great Mother! Why did you hide this! Oh, my daughter!”

“No, mom, I’m fine, it’s nothing. Not my blood. Not my blood, okay?” You reached up weakly and wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers, your heart got crushed worse than the pain could beat you down at her grief — lungs constricting. Where was all the air? “I’ll get up. I’ll go to grandmother, don’t cry. Just resting.”

Frantically looking around, she yelled, “Jake!—” but her voice didn’t quite come out, breathy as if she’d been punched in the ribcage seconds prior.

A heartbeat’s worth of nothingness, after which you were full-on freaking out. Only one thought: Father will be angry.

“No!” You shrieked, and blood swelled in one strong pump against mom’s fingers. She looked down at you in anguish, pupils blown wide, arm tightening around you as if you were a flailing bird. “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell father! He’ll really kill me for this—”

“No, no no no,” she shook her head, frenzied, tone cracked from beginning to end. “Do not say that. Don’t you ever say that—”

But you were struggling in her arms, wanting nothing but to crawl away into a hole, no reason registering whatsoever, only instinct. “He’ll be so angry,” you begged, pleading, pink spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. The sound of gurgling accompanying the words you forced your whole body to form. “You can’t tell him — you can’t! He already hates me!”

The more you thrashed around and kicked your legs, the more you bled.

“Please, Great Mother!” The more mom lost her mind, hissing and howling hysterically, crazed, hugging you tighter and rocking. “Jake! Jake! Ma’Jake!” She put her temple against yours. “Not my daughter, please, Eywa…”

Why was she being like this? It wasn’t that serious! You were okay!

Delirium claimed you hot as she kept calling his name and her unbreakable hold on you kept you in a cage of a mother’s despair. In your feverish mind, a threat to your life was coming. Weakness spread like wildfire around your body and chipped away at the pain, slowly picking it apart to replace it with drowsiness. “Don’t call ‘im,” you continued to repeat, over and over again. “I’m just taking a break. Don’t call him over. He’s gonna be angry. He’ll hate me. He hates me. Please, mom.”

The sentences slurred together, shortened, wilted away pitifully, your voice died down, tongue deteriorating into only echoing, “He hates me.” A withered away, old flute.

Your ikran was bellowing in the distance and you looked. The torches on cave walls were illuminating him and finally revealing to you his beautiful color scheme.

And then your father was here, falling to his knees right beside you, his glistening wide eyes flying everywhere around your body — tracing all the blood, hands hovering above you as if he didn’t know where to start piecing a shattered vase back together.

It was over.

Fully expecting the chastising you were about to receive to shake the floating mountains so bad the enemy would be able to spot you, you began to apologize — pride be damned, this battle be lost, you’d failed anyway. “Please don’t be mad,” you shuddered, meek and unsteady, tunnel vision flickering at the edges only perceiving him. “It’s my fault—I’m sorry—please don’t be angry—”

“Stop talking,” he ordered, rough and harsh, eyebrows knitted tightly, and out of breath — probably because of how hard he was trying to hold the anger back. You knew. That had to be it. “Don’t speak.”

Ah of course. This was only natural when he had refused to utter a single word at you the whole way, denying you the temporary comfort of a simple glance.

Even the hand he pressed down so ruthlessly firm on your stomach it might as well be a boulder pinning you down was meant to be punishment, the whines your unbreathing lungs couldn’t stop turned into yowls — you hadn’t even noticed your hands were wrapped around father’s wrist in an effort to push him away, scratching him, but he only added his other hand on top of the other in return.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I got you, please hang on a little longer,” he pleaded, but you were already too far gone, Eywa was cruel to have plugged your ears to the endearment you’d been dying to hear from him for so long, making the last things you were aware father said to you the fact that he didn’t even want to hear you talking.

And you fulfilled his wish.

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis@alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily @n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝#📖: light

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4ttack-ur-heart · 1 year ago

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Flock of Birds

Pairing: levi x gn! Reader

Summary: You’re injured, disoriented, and alone in the middle of the forest with your thoughts. The rest of the Levi squad is dead. You’re hoping death comes sooner rather than later, but luckily your Captain finds you in time.

Warnings: angst, descriptions of violence, reader hoping for death, happy ending.

**something to get me back into writing, and apparently symbolism is hard for me to write. Takes place during season 2 and reader is apart of his og squad.

Their relationship can be read as romantic or platonic, it’s not really specified.

The birds never looked so free. A small flock flew above you in the typical ‘v’ form. Sasha said they do that to keep track of each other. To keep each other safe while migrating and make sure no one gets left behind. Were they ducks? No, no, they had to be crows. Maybe they’re- who cares?

You’re mind was fuzzy.

Vision was blurry.

And of course it had to be raining.

But… the sun was out and the sky was clear.

Then why was water running down your face? The slow tickle of the liquid trailed down your face and down your jaw until it fell on your white pants.

Blood.

Oh. That explains it.

How long have you been out here? What time was it.. what day was it?

The ringing in your ear slowly dissipates and your vision starts to clear. You’re sitting down.

Why? Captain Levi gave you and the rest of his squad orders to stop the Female Titan. This isn’t making any sense.

Where was Petra? Eld?

God, your head hurts.

Maybe they found their flock of birds and flew to safety? But without you?

Nothing makes sense.

All you can see are trees, granted you can’t even move your head around fully. But, the Scouts are in titan territory, this was no time to be sitting.

You try to move your legs that sprawled in front of you, but the small movement makes you release a strangled cry.

Oh. It’s all coming back now.

Your squad, no, Levi’s squad… they’re all gone.

The female Titan elbowed you while going after the others. You must’ve hit the tree and only suffered a few broken bones before you went unconscious.

Perfect.

The sun was starting to get lower in the sky and you realize the scouts must’ve made their way back hours ago.

A small and bitter laugh escaped you. This is how you die? Alone and surrounded by the corpses of your comrades? What a sick world.

Maybe, just maybe if you close your eyes, you won’t wake up. The painful yearning for death in your sleep was no more than a miracle. And miracles don’t happen. Not in this life.

No, a Titan is bound to grab you at any moment, squeezing your body in its hand until your bones crack and blood is pouring out of your mouth. Death only comes once its teeth bite down on your skull.

That’s how you’re supposed to die.

Then why weren’t there any titans?

Not that you minded, but it was very peculiar. This was prime Titan country and you should’ve been dead before you’ve even woken up.

A faint noise catches your attention. That sounds like… odm gear.

With your rotten luck, they’ll fly past you, not noticing you’re still alive. Thin tears leaked from your dehydrated body. You’ll have to suffer a cold night by yourself, then get plucked off the ground by a Titan once dawn approaches. If you’re lucky, you’ll die during the night.

“Captain!”

A voice shouted out as the odm gear sounded a lot closer now. It was a female voice.

Was it Krista? No, her voice is too soft.

Sasha? No, it couldn’t be.

“Captain, they’re alive!”

Oh, it was Mikasa. She was cool.

Thumps and the sound of the twigs and leaves snapping as the two made their way over to you.

Which Captain was it?

Wait, wasn’t there only one Captain?

Yes, he wasn’t just your Captain, he was your squad leader.

Your head tilted to the side and through half-lidded eyes, you saw Captain Levi standing there in shock. Mikasa quickly rushes over to you and scans you for any lethal wounds.

“T-they hit their head pretty hard it looks like.” She says with tears brimming her eyes. Levi finally snaps out of it and remembers his authority.

“Scan the area for any Titans until I get them on one of the branches.” Levi crouches down in front of you as Mikasa leaves. “Hey, hey, can you hear me?”

His hands carefully grasp at your face to steady your head. “Y/l/n, I asked you a question.” Your eyes locked with his. The sharp grey eyes bore into yours just like so many other times, but this time you could tell there was a sense of longing and concern within them. Your hand reaches out to grasp the wings of freedom patch on the shoulder of his jacket.

That’s when your emotions took over. Tears leaked from your eyes and you gave out a cry. “I’m s-so sorry, Captain. We t-tried to stop her.”

The disappointment in yourself rang through your body. You were still alive. Everyone else was dead. So why you? You were the first one down and couldn’t even follow your captains orders.

“Shut the hell up.” Levi interrupts your thoughts.

“You’re alive. That’s all that matters.” He breathes out and rests his forehead on yours. “Thank god.”

More tears. “B-but the others-”

“We can mourn when we’re all safe. Right now, we have to get you out of here.”

Levi takes out a roll of bandages and starts to bind them against your head wound. “Don’t die on me yet, kid.”

“I’m only a few years younger than you.” You gave him a weak smile.

“Save your energy, brat.”

There’s the Captain you know.

Once he bandages your wounds, he sets his arms under you to carry you. You let out a small cry at the movement of your leg.

“Shit.” He mutters and moves to take off his cloak. “There’s nothing I can do for the pain. Just hold on until we can get to the wagons.”

“Okay.”

His thumb wipes away a few of your tears and he rips a strip off his cloak and rolls it up. “We can’t have that loud mouth of yours attracting more of those ugly bastards.” He hold it up to your mouth.

“Bite.”

The cloth is pressed between your teeth and acts as a bite guard.

You couldn’t help the muffled groans of pain as he lifted your body up. He tied more pieces of his cloak around you both to act as a harness so you were strapped to his back.

“You alright?” Levi asked once he stood up. He only got a muffled grunt in response.

Without another word, he took off into the trees.

“Mikasa, let’s go! We’re meeting up with the others.”

The other scout soon joined you two and she gave you a worried glance.

Your arms were limply resting around Levi’s neck as he moved and your head turns to the side.

Birds flew next to you.

“To keep each other safe.” Sasha’s voice rang out in your head. “When my dad was teaching me to hunt, I always wondered why birds flew like that, too.”

“Aw, so they’re looking out for each other?” You asked, splitting your slice of bread in half and handing it to her. “That’s cute.”

She eagerly took it, “Yeah! It’s to make sure no one gets left behind and makes communicating easier.”

Who knew one of Sasha’s old stories would play through your mind at a time like this.

Levi landed on his horse and was careful with you and his own injured leg. The forest was becoming smaller and you could see the walls in the distance.

You’re gonna be okay.

Levi’s hand gripped both of yours around his neck and he held the reigns in the other.

Sorry fate, you weren’t getting left behind this time. Maybe miracles do happen. You might have lost some along the way, but the birds must stick together, especially in this world.

———

Taglist: @laylasbunbunny @sad-darksoul @cullenswife

(If you wanna be added or removed, lmk!!)

#aot x reader #aot imagines #attack on titan #levi ackerman #aot drabbles #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi headcanons #levi angst #aot angst #aot x gender neutral reader #levi x reader angst #levi x gn!reader

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 1 year ago

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Ok ok I know this sounds deranged and it probably means nothing but please just listen

Atsushi has violet and yellow eyes. Fukuchi has violet eyes which have indeed been shown as yellow in at least one piece of art (cover of volume 21).

Atsushi and Fukuchi have the same hair colour. (It's not because Fukuchi greyed. He had light hair in the flashbacks and the same colour hair in the anime's Untold Origins.)

Fukuchi has three scars on his right cheek, which are clearly the claw marks from an animal. On Shibusawa's skull, there are clearly three claw marks that run down the right side of his face.

Fukuchi has access to and knowledge about powerful ability users and artifacts: Shinto-Amenogozen, the Holy Sword and Bram by extension, and importantly, the Book. Atsushi has a special connection to the Book we are not yet privy to.

Fyodor is a part of the DoA but their leader is Fukuchi (as far as we know). The DoA, or V, have been active many years. Fyodor has known about Atsushi for a long time and sent Shibusawa after him.

I'm just saying, while it's probably coincidence, I would not be surprised if there turns out to be some connection between Atsushi and Fukuchi and/or they end up being related. That's all.

Edit: Because I am a dumbass and wrote "left" side of the face instead of right... :/

#bsd #bsd atsushi #bsd fukuchi #call me ace detective the way i am ace. and also a detective.#storyrambles

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 7 months ago

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Hi again! Can't pass the opportunity of suggesting a prompt either ^w^ Thanks so much!

V. "I'm a little disappointed. I expected a bit more of a struggle." for the Vampire / Werewolf AU

Thank you so much! I always love your comments, so I hope this is to your taste as well! ❤️

Leader of the pack

Rated: T

Words: 996

Tags: Vampire & Werewolf AU; Vampire Eddie; Kas!Eddie; Werewolf Steve; Eddie Munson Whump; Jason Carver being an asshole; Blood and violence; Nudity; Eddie is having a bad day

“You know,” the hunter says, and his companions snicker. “I'm a little disappointed. I expected a bit more of a struggle.”

“Well, what can I say?” Kas retorts. “You have very convincing arguments.”

He tries to struggle free, but his skin burns at each contact with the net. It’s woven of delicate silver thread. It might as well be made of steel. His grin turns into a pained snarl, lips peeling back to reveal his fangs.

“You flash those all you want,” the hunter drawls. “You won't be able to for long.”

“What?” Kas sneers at him. “You gonna kill me? I'm terrified.”

The hunter smiles sharply.

“Oh, no. I won't kill you yet. I know there's more of you wretched bloodsuckers lurking in the mountains, and you …” One of his hands grabs Kas by the jaw. “You are going to tell me where to find them.”

Kas snaps at him. The man laughs.

“Patrick,” he says to one of his companions. “Give me the pliers. Let's see how he likes biting once we pull out his-”

He doesn't get any further.

Something rustles and before he has a chance to fully turn, a giant, snarling shadow flies out of the darkness and latches on to his throat.

Kas hits the ground. His skull connects with a rock, and the world descends into a blur of teeth and fur and terrified shouts as more shadows lunge from the forest.

When the fog lifts, the hunters are gone. Their cries mingle with the sounds of howls and snarls in the darkness.

In front of him, staring at him with eyes like liquid gold, is a giant, furry beast.

Kas groans, head thunking back against the ground.

“Fucking mutts.”

The wolf huffs something that might be a laugh. Then, it hunches in on itself and the sound turns into a whine. Kas screws his eyes shut to block out the sight of the shift while the wolf’s pained noises mingle with the crunch and slide of muscles and bones rearranging themselves.

“The polite thing to say would’ve been thank you. I thought your kind was known for their good manners.”

When Kas blinks his eyes back open, the wolf is gone. In its place is a young man. His eyes are more hazel than gold, but still sparkling with smug amusement. His hair is the same caramel color as the fur of his other form.

He’s also bumfuck naked.

“Yeah, well,” Kas says, “I thought yours was known for keeping your noses out of the affairs of other races.”

The stranger huffs again. He stands and stretches - a long, graceful ripple of lean muscle - before he twists around to unsling the leather bag strapped to his back.

“We do, usually,” he says, sitting back on his haunches and rifling through its contents. “However, we tend to take it personal when strangers wander into our territory and hunt down our prey. Animals don't grow on trees, y’know?”

Kas stares at him, because … what? Surely this is a joke, because who'd say something like that with a straight face? The answer to that question, evidently, is naked wolf boy right here, because he refuses to even crack a grin.

“Wha-?” is what he finally says. “What animals? I haven't touched any of your precious prey.”

Wolf boy measures him with a long, doubtful look, like he's trying to figure out whether or not to believe him. Finally, he sighs and pulls his hand from the bag. Glinting between his fingers is a long, jagged knife.

Kas hisses.

Wolf boy rolls his eyes. “Are you always that dramatic? I was only gonna cut you loose.”

The knife slices through the thin thread with ridiculous ease, but it still takes a while to free him. Wolf boy needs to be careful to not touch the silver himself, after all - not the easiest of tasks without even a shred of fabric on his body.

“What’s your name?”

This must be the most bizarre conversation of his long, tedious un-life, he thinks. Exchanging smalltalk and platitudes with a naked werewolf while being cut out of a hunter’s net.

“Kas.”

“Bless you,” wolf boy says. Kas can’t see his face, having turned his back to give him better access to the net there, but he doesn’t need to. He can practically see the dorky grin. “What’s it with you vampires and your stupid, made-up fantasy names, huh?”

“It’s a question of style, alright?” he grumbles. “Not like I’d expect you to get it. What’s your pack leader called again? Otis?”

Wolf boy’s hands freeze, but only for a second. Then, the knife gives one final, brisk tug, and Kas can feel the last of the net fall away from his blistered skin. He can’t quite help the relieved sigh that escapes him.

“Anyhow, it was nice meeting you,” he mumbles, rolling his neck and reveling in the feeling of his powers slowly seeping back in. “Have a nice rest of your life, I guess.”

“Huh?” Wolf boy asks. “Oh no, you got that wrong. You’re coming with us.”

Before he even has a chance to ask what that means, something closes around his wrists. This time, the silver is encased in a thick layer of leather, so it doesn’t make his skin blister and burn. It still draws all of his strength right back out, leaving him weak and harmless like a kitten.

“What the actual fuck?” he snarls as wolf boy hoists him to his feet. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Funny that you should mention grandpa Otis,” wolf boy says merrily. “He’s been dead for ten years. My name’s Steve, by the way. Sorry if it’s not fancy enough for your taste. Come on now, I hate making my pack wait.”

Kas is powerless to resist as he grabs him by the elbow and walks him towards the myriad of glowing eyes staring at them from the treeline.

More celebration ficlets

Steve said "I'm the alpha" 😅

Part 2

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hype's 1k follower ficlets

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saint-ajax · 3 months ago

Text

Wh0re Thoughts

PIRATE!SIMON RILEY X SIREN!READER

There's nothing that could piss off Pirate Simon Riley more than his men jumping off ships to a siren’s deathly call. Which is why he went by himself to a forbidden cave. The house of the deadliest siren as rumors say.

The eerie, cold, and dark cave welcomed him and his boat in, leading him deeper. Until a glowing tail by a rocky stone throne lures him in. You are a ruthless siren and that is unmistakably known by anyone who crosses your territory. Yet when a brave skull-faced man invaded your cave your curiosity brought him the power to captivate you.

“ You killed my men, and now, I will ruin you. „

He brought his threats to life when he whipped his belt on the ground every step that he took closer to you. He captured your lips after drinking a bottle of potion to transfer it to your mouth and force you to swallow.

It caused you pain down your torso, you howled in agony as your tail glowed in blinding lights, as if it was burning you in degrees. As it vanished, you found yourself with human legs.

“ Beautiful legs for a vicious creature. „

The cruel man gave you legs and burned your tail. Yet he had the audacity to trail kisses down your leg, and devour your pussy like it's his. He swirled his tongue on your hard clit, sucked it, and licked your soppy walls. He didn't stop, even when you were screaming, whining, and crying, as pearls streamed down your face for every tear.

“ That's right, I make you cry, you make me rich. „

He couldn't have enough of you yet he wanted to see your lips cover his meaty, leaking cock. He wanted you to slobber all over his dick, as you choke on it, making you roll your eyes back. He will make the tip of his beefy girth reach the back of your throat, you wicked bitch. He did exactly that while you held onto his thick thighs, scratching him as you begged for air.

He didn't stop there. He came there to punish you and he will. He made your ass up while faced down on the slimy concrete of your royalty throne while he fucking disgraced you by pounding on your pussy from the back. He filled you with his creamy milk, he filled your soggy pussy in his cum until it leaked and dripped down your legs. He let out his months and months of sexual frustration on you. A respected disciplined leader who doesn't fuck just any girl, now take everything he has in the vault for you.

Rounds after rounds of cumming inside your drenched pussy, slamming his hips on your ass as each slap echoes through your cave, his stamina of a viking wore out your dainty little body. You fell asleep in his arms as he lay the both of you naken on your throne, which is a small hill of rocks.

You wake up to his noise, all dressed up and ready to leave. The ache in between your legs made you realize he took a whole lot of you.

“ You bring me back my tail, you monster! „

How dare you call him a monster when you're the one who murdered a hundred men? “ You will stay here, in your throne that I know is made of skulls you’ve murdered. You will wait for me in these legs I’ve gifted you. Once I come back, I will fuck you over.. And over again for as long as I want. „

FULL VERSION: pearls for every life

MASTERLIST | A03

#ajax saint #simon ghost riley #call of duty domain #wh0re thoughts by ajax #wh0re house by ajax #original character #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #pirate!simon ghost riley x siren!reader

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trashmouth-richie · 2 years ago

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Okay so

Choke Me Bite Me has made me feral

I’m thinking about the next part…maybe some smutty angst where Eddie’s girlfriend catches him and Reader, or he calls out Reader’s name while sleeping with his girlfriend? And she makes him choose? Up to you who he chooses…feel free to go full angst.

Xoxoxoxoxo, @munson-blurbs 💚

CHOKE ME BITE ME | part ii | for reference

this will be the last for this ask/ mini series 😘 thank you for all the love ❤️ 💋 thank you to @lunatictardis for the req that started this 💕💕

eddie x female!reader

w.c 3.2k

warnings: NO MINORS, p in v unprotected sex, cheating, drug use. etc

Over the past few weeks Eddie had been acting stranger than usual. Someone who was once a leader among younger misfits of Hawkins, was now nowhere to be found. His seat at lunch would be empty for days, only to be seen rushing in at the last minute to eat a few pretzels and steal Dustin’s hat, or to tease Mike about his supposed California “girlfriend”. Other days he would go missing for lunch and half of his classes, which for him, was not uncommon, but coming back to class with his hair in a low bun, cheeks flushed and sweaty, was. He even started canceling Hellfire or moving it entirely at the last minute, claiming he wasn’t prepared or that Wayne needed him.

The boys of Hellfire grew suspicious of their leather and denim adorned Dungeon Master, “He’s gotta have a girlfriend.” Mike squeaked, the effects of puberty still hitting even though he was the tallest of the nerds.

“He’s had a girlfriend for a long time, dumbass.” Gareth sneers, “How the fuck have you not noticed?”

“Fuck I don’t know! He never talks about her!”

Dustin, easily the smartest of the group, chimes in, “Actually, that’s a good point.. he doesn’t talk about her… at all.”

“Last I heard, she was fucking around on him, I heard her talking about it with Chrissy Cunningham during Biology a few weeks ago. I told him but he didn’t seem to give a shit.” Jeff shrugs, shoveling in a heap of chewy canned corn. “You know how he is.”

The rest of the boys nodded in agreement, brushing it off their shoulders as they planned how they were going to beat Eddie’s next campaign, if he didn’t cancel, again.

“Christ, mmm are you sure no one’s going to come in and see us, you almost got us caught last time.”

“Nice try princess, you almost got us caught cause of that fucking whore mouth you have… fuck.”

“Not my fault you can’t keep your mouth shut when your dick is in my throat.”

The hellfire room echos with your combined moans as Eddie pumps harder into you harder, ass hanging off the table, he’s rubbing your clit as you clench around him. Sweat is dripping from his thick tufts of hair as he rolls his eyes into the back of his skull— full demon mode as he claws at your hip with his other hand.

Since Eddie brought you to school that day after date crashing, and vandalizing Andy’s car, you had both been skipping class to— explore the inner walls of Hawkins— or for lack of better words, fuck in any empty room you could get to first. So far the broom closet across from Ms. O’Donnell’s, the Hellfire room (Eddie’s personal favorite) , the band room, the wood shop shack, the dugouts by the baseball fields and the picnic table in the woods: had all been defiled by you and Eddie.

“I swear you get tighter every time we fuck,” Eddie groans as you writhe beneath him, grabbing him by the thins of his shirt collar to look him in the dark glassy pits of his eyes while you moaned into his mouth and come all over his cock. “Thassit pretty girl, fuck you’re so fucking hot, so perfect— letting me fuck you allover this goddamn school, I’m coming fuck fuck fuck.” He comes undone, shivering and bucking his hips harder with every shooting release his body produces. He collapses halfway on top of you, causing the cheap table to groan and buckle beneath your combined weight, crashing to the floor with Eddie’s dick still buried inside of you.

The shock wears off and you’re both hysterically laughing, your laughter pushes his softening length out of you along with your combined come, oozing out of your pussy and all over the floor like pearly melted ice cream treat. “Don’t think I’ve ever broken a table from fucking before.”

“What can I say, I’m just that good,” you say with a wink as you button up your blouse, fixing your hair and blotting your mascara ran eyes.

Eddie couldn’t deny you anymore. He had been putting on this hard ass facade for a while now, but every now and then he would slip up, telling you how pretty you were, bringing you back to his place and holding you while you both slept after the usual hookup and joint. With all the time you had been spending together, you wondered if they were even together anymore. You never mentioned him to her. Never treading towards that car wreck of a relationship. He didn’t seem nearly as frustrated and pissed off as he did when this situation first started. In fact, the sex was almost sweet at times, blaming it on the weed as Eddie would bottom out into your pussy, holding your hands above your head and kissing you sloppy, his hips rolling slow in tandem with the low rumblings of “Free Bird” playing in the background, singing into your ear as he fucked into you slow.

Tucking himself back into his jeans, your come still sticky sweet on his cock, he smirks, “yeah, you’re something all right.”

The jingle of a key in the door has you both on alert, pulling Eddie out of the blissful limbo of wondering if you’re just fuck buddies or a little something more. He helps you to your feet and holds your hand tight, yanking you towards the back door leading to outside. You're both laughing as you run to the picnic table in the woods, grabbing your hand tighter, filling his lungs with fresh air, coughing from the years of lung abuse. A blush pricks its way across his cheeks as he looks down at you. Your smile will end up killing him, he’s certain of that. The ache in his heart subsides when he sees it. Like all the bullshit she puts him through doesn’t matter. Because he has you.

She had been noticing Eddie’s lack of attendance, not that she cared. Even though she didn’t sit with him and his band of freaks at lunch, she couldn't help but distinguish between the now quietness of the cafeteria and Eddie’s normal prancing around like a lunatic, blurting the conformities of the world for all of his very much uninterested peers to hear. Being with him was suffocating. Clutching the air from her perfect image and tarnishing her brand of Hawkins High elite. She allowed their time to be spent together at his place rather than hers, not wanting to taint her family name by having that garbage pile on wheels parked outside the trim and poised bushes of the monstrous house in the newer golf course addition to Hawkins. He didn’t understand what the big deal was, why she thought it was important or even fucking cared at all.

“So you’re embarrassed to be with me?” He’d whine. She so badly wanted to say yes, but clung on to their relationship as a backup…mostly for the free weed. Okay only for the free weed. Sometimes sacrifice was necessary get what you actually wanted. And for that, she would sacrifice herself and lie through her teeth to get what she desired— but what she wanted, wasn’t Eddie.

She was in love with him, or at least she thought she was early on in their relationship. Hooking up after stumbling into the Hideout on a Tuesday night in the summer after a birthday party for Chrissy landed them a ride to the bar and free drinks from the bartender she had been flirting with all night. Eddie was singing that night, sweaty and shirtless. Hair soaked down to his shoulders as he sang and winked towards her. She thought he was in college, home for the summer, playing with his band, working on the side, she was astonished to find out that he was twenty and still in high school, her high school. Eddie had fallen head over heels for her, excited that someone, anyone, would give him the time of day. He was oblivious to her wandering eyes, the way guys would snicker and wink at her whenever they were near. Even missing her crude hand and mouth gestures she made to the jocks on the football team. He was so blissfully unaware, and she used it to her advantage.

He had caught her, she didn’t know it, but he had seen her cheating. He decided to show up to her house on her birthday, a dozen roses tucked under his arm and a pretty heart necklace wrapped in gold paper he had seen at the jewelry store in star court mall. He had spent two weeks worth of dealings to afford it, only for her to be kissing Jason Carver on her front porch. The following night you had been working at Melvald’s when he came stomping in, searching for batteries for his Walkman. You had seen him around school, heard the rumors about him being a vessel for satan. But nothing would prepare you for the pool of wetness in your panties when he smooth-talked you into meeting him out back after your shift for a smoke. That night you were both high out of your minds, lazily shotgunning one another as Eddie pounded into you from behind in his van. Releasing all his pent up anger from seeing her with Jason the previous night. You were his outlet, he had made it clear to you that this was strictly fooling around, nothing more, and to never, under any circumstances were you allowed to talk about her.

That was almost two months ago, and although you promised yourself you wouldn’t, begged yourself not to care about him, to move on from him— you simply couldn’t. You craved him when he wasn’t around, needed him when you had a bad day. What started off as a fling was currently erupting into nights of late night talking, spending more time at Eddie’s house than you did at your own, even meeting his uncle on accident when Eddie started undressing himself and you, shucking his jacket to the ground and toeing off his Reeboks, when he backed himself into the front door of the trailer, a stunned Wayne sitting at the kitchen table, clearing his throat from behind a cup of coffee. But he was still with her.

One night, crowded around the small pea green table finishing their supper, Wayne clears his throat, swallowing the last bits of his tv dinner, “So what happened to ol’ uh whatshername?” Wiping his graying mustache with the back of his hand, rolling his eyes as Eddie stares at him with a confused look on his face, one eyebrow curled up, the other shoved high into his fringe. “Don't’ play stupid with me, boy, your girlfriend.” Wayne grunts.

“Oh.. uh— well we’re still together, why? Gossip not cutting it at the plant, need some entertainment?” Eddie sneers, putting up his walls of defense so quick they practically shook the foundation of the fragile decaying trailer.

“As much as I love not seeing her scowling face around here, was just curious as to why she ain’t, and why you try to sneak y/n out of here in the mornings when you think I’m asleep.”

Eddie’s face pales, running a hand down his face he sinks lower into his chair. “I don’t know what to do.” He groans, talking behind his hands.

“Boy, I know that skull of yours is thicker than concrete, but I never figured you’d be that damn dumb.”

“Hey!” Eddie protests, “it’s not that easy! She was the first girl ever to notice me!”

“It is that easy, you’re just not paying attention, ain’t never seen you smile more than when y/n is around. That other snooty rich bitch used hand sanitizer every time she touched something here. Drove me nuts watching her turn her nose up to you, to this place. Her heart ain’t in it son, and quite frankly it never was,” he stands from the table, throwing away the paper formed sectioned out plate and puts the fork in the sink, rubbing his hands along the fraying towel hung from the stove, “sometimes you gotta open your eyes a little bit and see who makes you happy, who you actually like spendin’ time with.” He tucks his head beneath a worn ball cap and waves bye as he steps out of the trailer, leaving a dumbfounded Eddie staring holes into the cold mashed potatoes. A decision pressed along the inner workings of his mind.

“Jesus Christ,” Gareth points across the dim lit parking lot, laughing as the shadows of Eddie’s van rocks back and forth.

“You know what they say, when the van’s a rockin’ don’t come knockin” Jeff explains, wiping the last bit of Coke off his chin. “Told you he had a girlfriend, Mike!”

Hellfire had just gotten over and the party was heading to their vehicles. The late spring air was chilly as a light breeze picked up, scattering trash along the black asphalt of the parking lot in a sad tango.

“Shit, guess he did have something better to do.” Mike says with a laugh, high fiving Dustin and Lucas. A car pulls into the parking lot, parking right behind Eddie’s van.

“Wait isn’t that…”

“No fucking way!”

Stepping out of the car was Eddie’s girlfriend, fuming pissed as she knocked and banged on the windows.

“Oh shit, oh shit!” Gareth yells as he runs towards Eddie’s van. “Let’s go!” he yells over his shoulder, summoning the rest of Hellfire to help out their devoted DM.

A note taped to the inside of your locker meant one thing, Eddie. He knew your locker combination and would frequently leave you locations and times on where to meet. But this note was different: “meet me at 6 o’clock in the parking lot by my van. 🖤” Your stomach fluttered at the sight of it, clutching the note to your chest you thought about it for the next three hours.

The van was set up with your favorite snacks, camping lanterns he “borrowed” from his neighbors, pillows, blankets, and of course a few joints he had rolled previously. He was standing against the opened back door to the van, holding flowers and that signature grin.

“What’s all this?” You ask, eyes wet with tears, your smile breaking from ear to ear. The beautiful petals from the flowers curling against your fingers as you touched them delicately.

Eddie grabs you by the waist, his hand dragging up your body lazily, stroking your cheek, “just thought we could do something different tonight… before we go any further I need to tell you— I’m ending it with her.”

Your heart skips a beat, “w-why is that?”

His hand grazes your chin, lifting it up higher revealing the slope of your neck. He slotted his lips against you, licking slow and lightly nipping his teeth into your soft flesh. “Oh I think you know why, baby.”

“I do, but I want you to say it,” you tease, twirling your fingers through his hair as you try to stifle a moan.

Eddie grins against your neck, licking a strip up to your ear, whispering, “I want you, and only you.” He pulls away and looks deep into your eyes, “you make me happier than I’ve ever been, I feel like I can be myself with you… I’m so into you baby.”

Your heart sings, you throw your arms around Eddie’s neck, pressing your lips to his, murmuring between kisses, “I’m yours.”

He picks you up delicately, bringing you inside the van and laying you down softly against the pillows. Shutting the door, Eddie peels his clothes off, eyeing you with sweet eyes of honey flecked brown as you undress. He presses his body into yours, kissing you slow and sweet, savoring this moment, wishing he had always taken his time with you. Soaking in every kiss, every lick of your skin, the soft moans you hummed out beneath him as you were finally his. “Should have made you mine the minute I saw you behind that counter at Melvald’s. You looked so cute, and I was so miserable.” He noses his way through the valley of your tits, suckling on your nipples as your back arches up, thrusting yourself up into his mouth.

“It’s okay, Eddie,” you moaned in the comfort of the van, “we’re together now… and I need you.” Your pussy aching to be filled.

He wastes no time, throwing your legs around his waist as he unzips his jeans, spitting on your naked pussy and rubbing his cock through your dripping folds. He pumps into you slow, kissing you deeply as he mutters swears against your lips. “I’m down bad for you sweetheart,” he admits, thrusting his hips into you, reveling in the eyes you gasp as he pushes in deeper, “you have no idea.”

You claw at his back, fingers digging into the softness of his skin, rippling across his muscled form. Finally able to mark him up without any restraints, he moans into your opened mouth. He pumps into you harder, rubbing your clit with one hand as the van is rocking back to forth. Sweat is pouring from your bodies, fogging up the windows, and dripping onto the blankets. Headlights glare against the back windows as Eddie pounds into you deeper, you’re whining beneath him, begging and clawing at his shoulders, crying from the beautiful pleasure filling you up, cusping your g spot as Eddie raises your leg over his shoulder, using your hips to grip onto.

A bang on the window has you both stopping dead. Nothing but bated breath and your heart beats heard as you listen. High pitched screaming is breaking against the balance from beyond the metal doors, it’s her.

The Hellfire boys make it to Eddie’s van just in time to stop her from throwing open the doors, or so they thought.

The doors open revealing Eddie’s bare ass for all of Hawkins to see, he throws the blankets over you covering your naked body. He swivels slowly to face her.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” she screams as she slaps and hits him on his naked chest, a pillow covering his groin. “You're cheating on me?!”

“Aww, you thought you were the only one fucking around on this relationship?” he scoffs, “tell me how long have you been fucking Jason behind Chrissy’s back?”

“That’s none of your business!” She seethes.

“You’re right, it’s not, we’re done. fuck off. Oh and don’t worry, I made sure to tell Chrissy about your and Jason’s little rendezvous.”

She stomps back to her car screaming with rage as she pushes Mike out of the way. Tires squealing as she leaves the parking lot.

“Y/N?” Dustin asks, peering around Eddie.

“Hey,” you wave, covering yourself up more as you scan the van for your clothes.

“Wait, you know him?” Eddie asks, sitting down next to you and slithering beneath the blankets, pecking your shoulder as he wraps his arms around you.

“Yeah, I do but maybe we can play detective after we’re not naked in the school parking lot.”

“Oh right, hey get out of here you little pervs! Quit trying to look at my girl!”

You would think about those two little words rolling so easily off his tongue for hours. Wrapped in Eddie’s arms, wearing his shirt as you sleep peacefully in his bed, finally as his girl.

a/n: this was so fun to write, hope I ended it the way you had all hoped. I didn’t want to give Eddie’s gf a name figuring she would be best to just be imagined however you as a reader would think of her. if you liked this—please comment your favorite part of this little ask turned mini series—I’m currently taking reqs for specific stories only, the link is in my master list 💋 thank you to everyone for leaving your feedback 🤎

tagged: @sidthedollface2

@dontwasteyourchances @tlclick73 @eddie-swhore @sinczir @alexiatheheroic @sh-el67 @lolalanaie

{if you’re tagged but didn’t get a mention notification, I tried to tag you but I think I saw someone post that it’s a settings issue on your blog}

#eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie smut #eddie angst #eddie fluff #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x y/n

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poetryandfluffycats · 8 months ago

Note

Okay wait hi I love your blog but that Adonis one shot you did is such a good idea can I request that with Chiaki (possible sex after...please?) and a female reader please, ty :)

A/N: another one I was saving for his day on NSFW month but ehhh I got impatient. enjoy

Pairing: Chiaki Morisawa x fem!reader

Content: Fights with your boyfriend are beginning to become a daily thing for you. After a particularly bad fight, you end up on Chiakis doorstep in tears.

Warnings: NSFW, penetration sex(p in v), mentions of fingering and oral sex, negative self talk, toxic relationships, mostly fluff chiaki is a sweetheart

Words: 792

NSFW oneshot under cut!

Better than him, right?~

There was a mutual agreement between the both of you as you silently sobbed into Chiakis' board chest. Tears stained the fabric of his shirt as he held you close, rubbing comforting circles into your hips with one hand and stroking your hair with the other. The room was competently silent, save for the occasional sniffle or exceptionally loud sob from you. You didn't think you had spoken a word since getting here. How stupid you must have looked, barging into his dorm room and practically jumping at him for comfort without an explanation.

He didn't ask questions, though, he didn't even speak really. He knew in his mind that questions were most likely the last thing you would want in this moment. All the context clues you had given were enough to come up with a vague idea of what happened. You and your boyfriend had another fight, he said something insulting or just borderline humiliating, and you had walked out bawling.

And where else to go but the non-judgement and warm, open arms of the leader of RYUSEITAI, the one man on earth you felt like you could trust with your entire heart.

"(name)..." Chiaki whispered, his voice so low it was nearly inaudible. Like he'd break you if he spoke too loud. "I don't understand how he can treat you like this."

"Because I'm worthless-"

"No, listen to me" He shushed you, gently lifting your chin to look at him. Your eyes were red and puffy, tears and snot dripping down your chin and making a mess. Chiakis heart broke at the sight. No one deserved to feel like that, ever. Especially not someone with a kind and pure heart like yours.

"You're not worthless," He started, using his thumb to wipe the wetness off your cheeks then caress the area lovingly. "You are the most wonderful woman I've ever met. Anyone whose told you otherwise is blind if they can't see that"

You shook your head, biting down on your lip to prevent the new stream of tears that threatened to fall. Despite how pathetic you already looked, it felt embarrassing to cry even more than you already had. Your eyes burned from your efforts, head pounding against your skull.

"N-no, but I'm so-"

"Perfect? Beautiful? Talented? Angelic? Smart?" Chiakis grin was nothing but genuine, leaving no room for lies in his words. He took a large breath, almost as if he were preparing for something big, before grabbing your hips and pulling you into his lap so you were straddling him. The action caused you to gasp and flinch the tiniest bit, but his hands held you steady as he lowered his voice to whisper in your ear,

"Sexy?"

You froze. No one had ever called you that, no one had ever looked at you like that. All the bad names you'd heard before seemed to fade away at the praise, leaving nothing but the feeling of the heat rising in your stomach and the warmth of the man beneath you.

"Chiaki.." You whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your forehead against his, lips brushing over his own ever so slightly. This was so wrong, and yet, it felt so right.

"(name)" He cooed back, smile basking through his voice. His hands rubbed up and down your waist and hips, slowly moving to the plump of your ass, rolling you against his growing excitement. "I'm not going to force you into anything you're not going to be comfortable with. But, if you're wiling, I know just how to make you feel better"

You shook your head. The thought of Chiaki doing that to you, to anyone, was almost laughable. He was so sweet, didn't have a bad bone in his body, and here he was suggesting that he could force someone into such an act. It was cute, actually.

"No. Please, I want it"

That was all the conformation he needed before latching his lips onto yours.

/------

"Ah! Mmm~"

Just a little while later and you were a wreck on the sheets. Your cries were like music to Chiakis ears as he pounded you from behind, each thrust hitting that one spot that made you see stars. His balls smacked against your ass over and over again, only adding to the mixture of lewd noises slipping from out of your mouth as you neared your second orgasm of the night.

He had already made you cum once with his fingers and mouth, and it was looking like he wasn't going to stop any time soon.

Chiaki leaned forward, chest flush against your back as he licked a strip from your jaw to the shell of your ear. "Better than him, right?"

#ensemble stars #enstars #ensemble stars x reader #enstars x reader #oneshot #ensemble stars smut #ensemble stars oneshot #enstars smut #writers #writers on tumblr #chiaki morisawa x reader #chiaki morisawa #chiaki x reader #chiaki x reader smut #chiaki morisawa smut #chiaki morisawa x reader smut #ryuseitai #ryuseitai enstars #y/n x enstars

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ruershrimo · 1 year ago

Text

lyney x reader: hair (drabble)

features lyney

warnings: nothing except the fact that the text isn’t capitalised or proofread ;v;.

notes: what’s this, me writing for a character that isn’t from the first three nations? anw yeah so this is a drabble but it’s over 100 words,,, also sorry but my exams are in. two days. so. I may be m.i.a. for a while… hope you guys are alright with short things like this and the childe one

synopsis: his hair is really pretty, you think.

unlike his siblings, lyney’s hair is slightly different.

lynette’s hair is soft to the touch, and smells slightly of lumidouce bells. it’s smooth to the point that it’s slippery, always slipping through the gaps in her fingers, always obeying to her ribbons when she’s out at night; the glow of her and her cats’ eyes seeping through the cracks in the walls, learning each of their secrets. freminet’s hair is a beautiful pale blonde, the same as his mother’s before she left; the same as his mother’s, a woman his siblings never knew. it’s straight, but coarse on the ends whenever he resurfaces from the water. nevertheless, it suits his eyes swimmingly. sapphire gems on gold fleece.

lyney, however, lyney, the leader, the oldest, has hair with the fragrance of rainbow roses perpetually remaining on its strands. he makes little effort to keep it as gorgeous and luscious as his sister’s, when he very well could— to him it’s not as if lynette pays particular heed to her hair anyway, he’s the one who brushes through her hair and gets her the shampoo she likes because he knows she loves it.

his hair, to himself, is waiting backstage and anticipating a new show no matter how much of a lie it may be; it’s showering as speedily as he can no matter how much he wants to remain in the steady caress of running water, out of habit yet not allowing his siblings do the same, and choosing to brush his siblings’ hair so that they feel comfortable and have the best night’s rest they can have; it’s falling asleep on accident while you kiss his head, rub the pads of your fingers against his skull and brush through the strands ever so gently, as if for a moment he is precious as shards of glass about to shatter even more, as if for a moment he has been redeemed and has never been an actor, has never been a man overdue for confessions.

lyney’s hair to you is strolling in a field, senses awakened by the heady scent of flowers; it’s the comfort in gazing up at the stage and watching him paint the world until it becomes a sea of clamour, an ocean of awe, a vast land of smiles; it’s waking up to him and coffee being brewed behind you as he’s already set and ready for the day with his hair braided to the side. his hair is pretty, pretty because there was never a time when he was not, pretty because he braids it and makes the effort to keep it neat and tidy even if it’s not gorgeous or luscious, so pretty and hence you comb your fingers through it whenever you can.

and it doesn’t have to be slippery-smooth like lynette’s, nor does it have to be as ethereal as freminet and his mother’s. you’d love his hair any other way.

—

“you’ve always got beautiful hair, lyney,” you comment, one day, resting your nonchalance and your chin on your palm and elbow. “you’re always so pretty.”

he laughs. “why, are you trying to steal my poor little heart? oh, take it away, wrest it if you will. and besides, when have I ever been fairer than you?”

“always,” you state, matter-of-factly. “but you’re the prettiest. your hair curls a little at the end and it fits the way your eyes fill themselves with wonder when you’re on stage, or how you braid your hair to the side in the morning like that, I think. it’s like lynette’s, but I think I like yours just a little more. it’s really pretty, that’s all.”

“my, you’ve rendered me speechless, haven’t you?”

your lips curl into a smile. “I suppose I have.”

#hehe. hehehehe. I put the ‘readmore’ in the middle this time. I’m being so funky rn hahaha exams are in two days I’m going to decompose #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #lyney x reader #genshin impact lyney #lyney #genshin impact #ruer writes

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puuuders · 1 month ago

Text

I'm With You Always - DeCopia drabble thing

A/N - I HAVE FALLEN INTO DECOPIA HOLE AND CAN'T GET UP. @frjimdefroque THIS IS FOR YOU

Jim spends a sacred moment with his beloved.

570 words

The fog was always thick on cool October dusks, the birth of the night always seeming a bit brighter with the reflection of the moon bouncing off the miniscule water droplets that hung in the air. Though, on certain nights, the fog would grow in thickness as a presence would wander around the church borders, as Jim would watch the fluctuation move about from a second story window with a glass of His blood planted softly in his hand. By now, he had already changed into a comfortable pair of gray sweats and a black cardigan, a small portion of his chest visible from the V line. He took a sip of his wine, eyes half lidded and glued to a distinct shadow surrounded by the thickening fog. It was not until his glass was empty that he realized he had been trying too hard to search for that glimmer of white he longed to see. Looking down at the empty cup, he pulled the deep red curtains shut.

They always had an agreed upon time that one party could never seem to respect. 3:00 AM, deep into typical sleeping hours. Though Jim knew the significance of the number, and that it was not just to ensure privacy and lessened risk of being caught. But he never seemed to care. How could he claim to care when he was stepping through the yard, wet leaves and twigs crunching beneath his feet as he moved to their frequent meeting spot?

“You smell nice.” The familiar Italian voice squeaked from behind the chain link fence, black gloves fingers curling around the wires. Jim rubbed his arms with his own gloved hands, not having prepared for the cold.

“I can't smell you.” Jim murmured, almost aggressively. Met with silence, he sighed.

“Can I?”

“Sí… That's what I wait for.”

The being leaned forward, his infernal eye piercing through the fog, illuminating each of their faces. His own was painted neatly of an abstract skull, loose strands of his graying hair falling perfectly before his eyes.

Jim met Copia, pressing his chest against the fence as he closed his eyes. He listened as Copia began to pry apart the wires, creating just enough space to press even further forward. The head priest had noticed these damages before, and Jim blamed their rivalry ministry. Which, technically, was no sin and no lie.

But there was no point. There was no point to defend his holiness against such sins. And Jim knew that. For now he was pressing his lips against another man, and that of a man of the beast of many names. He drew a deep breath against their connection, inhaling Copia's scent, relishing their brief moment of intimacy. It was a moment they only risked sharing twice a week, apart from their occasional meeting amongst one another's ministry, though it was difficult to get any moment alone with the breathing of each other's leaders over their shoulders.

Jim had melted. Clinging to the fence, he took in as much taste and smell, eyebrows pinched up and tongue threatening to dive in as he struggled to contain himself. Until eventually, the pressure fell against no presence. He stumbled as his eyes fluttered open, saddened pupils peering into nothing but the darkness of night. He pressed his forehead against the cold metal, his eyes falling shut once more. It would be another week before he would see his lover again.

#ghost #the band ghost #ghost bc #papa iv #copia #popia #papa emeritus iv #jim defroque #defroque yourself #decopia #ghost fanfiction #copia x jim

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sailingintothenight · 2 months ago

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"A night in New York." P.P.

SUMMARY: Peter Parker and (y/n) Laufeyson spend a couple of hours together after the events of the end game.

A:N: Hello! It's been over a year since I posted my last story. I thought I was getting better from my illness, but this year helped me realize that I still have a lot to heal, but I hope this story is the push I need to continue writing because I really like writing about Tom and Peter, so, I hope you like this even though it's not very good hehehe but I had fun writing it so… thank you so much! - V.

The knife hits its mark.

The dummy's head in the compound's training room swings back and forth a few times and snaps back into place with a knife embedded in its fictional skull, while you, with a knot in your stomach, conjure up another one in your left hand with a bit of magic, a small white mist that transforms into a deadly weapon like your dad taught you to do before dying before a purple villain who lay standing under the cold night, merciless.

“Hi–” Peter Parker leans to the right as the knife embeds itself in the wall, an inch from his ear. “Holy cow! If you hadn't missed you would have cut off my ear.”

Your implacable expression doesn't change at his words.

“Do you think I missed?”

Peter stands there, eyes wide like a deer about to get hit by a car in the middle of the road when he realizes you hit exactly where you wanted to hit.

“Am I interrupting you?”

“Actually, yes…” Turning around, you play with the knife in your hand, like a well-executed magic trick as Uncle Thor likes to say. “I’m not done with him yet.”

“Well… he looks pretty dead to me.” Peter Parker laughs sweetly because he’s sweet, he’s sweet and innocent in the way he smiles, or tries to, like he hasn’t lost someone in the middle of an endgame battle, too. “I was just passing by on my way home, and I was wondering, do you want to do something?”

Your hand stops before you throw the knife, at the same time your brow furrows as you turn to look at him.

“What?”

Peter blushes, he can’t help it when your gazes meet because your eyes are strong, but he forces himself not to let himself be defeated.

“Yeah, uh, do you want to do something? I thought it would be a nice distraction from all this.”

"From all this.” You emphasize those words, poisonous like the snakes your dad used to turn into to scare your uncle. For a second, you think about how to be rude to him, how to say that all this involved suffering for your dad’s death, but something in his gaze is captivating, endearing and even honest with his own pain because he doesn’t hide it unlike you. “Like what?”

He blinks in surprise, because, although he came to you with the desire to help, Peter didn’t think you would accept that help.

“I don’t know… Do you want to take a walk around the city? I don’t think you’ve seen anything of it since you arrived in New York.”

“It’s not that I was really interested.” You answer honestly, brutally, but honestly. But before you answer, you think carefully about your next words, because in the depths of your mind, being alone doesn’t seem so tempting now that he’s there. “Okay, but I want the full Spider-man superhero experience.”

Peter is confused.

“Everything? You mean swinging through the city and stuff?”

You nod.

“Okay.” Peter nods back, and you can’t help but compare him to a little kid learning the first day of class, shy and a little bit scared. “Do you mind if we use the window and not the door? I heard Thor say you weren’t allowed to go outside until… you know.”

“I don’t mind.” You say confidently and walk over to him, because respecting rules isn’t something that runs in your family.

“Okay, cool, cool…” He says to himself, while his spider-sense makes his skin crawl at the closeness of your presence.

The two of you walk silently through the halls of the huge compound, empty halls now that their leader is no longer present. You turn right and right again, left through the lab until you find a window facing the city. Peter jumps up and stands on the edge as his superpowers help him keep his balance.

“You like burgers?”

“What?” You ask in surprise.

“Burgers, there’s this cool place that’s open all night – the cheeseburgers are my favorite.”

You frown as the image forms in your head.

“I guess I can try.”

“Great! Now I’m going to…” Peter tries to get you to come to him, but freezes up at not knowing how to tell you that you have to be against him so you can both jump out of the window. “You have to be against me so we can swing.”

He reaches out his hand for you to take, and for a second, a tingle spreads from your joined hands all the way to the bottom of your stomach as Peter lifts you up and helps you keep your balance. His hand on your waist is awkward, but he’s tender in the way he steals glances at you because you’re so close to him. And it’s the first time he’s been this close to a girl.

Throwing his web towards the nearest lighthouse, you both swing down to the city.

DELI burgers is open all night, and as you take your order, and unseen by anyone, even though the street is empty at that time of the night, Peter leads you to the edge of a two-story building to sit there, and you take your first bite of the bun that almost spills creams of different colors and flavors all over the paper bag. Peter looks at you curiously, waiting with those soft, bright eyes for you to tell him what it tastes like, what the verdict is for someone who comes from another world.

“It’s good.” You say with your mouth full. “It’s very good.”

Peter smiles as he eats his own burger, enjoying the silence between you that for some reason isn’t awkward.

“Burgers are really good, bad for your health, but good.”

You swallow before speaking again.

“I’ve never tried them before.”

Peter smiles shyly.

“I guess you didn’t have this in Asgard.”

You shake your head.

“No, but we should have.” You laugh. And for a few seconds that seem like an eternity, Peter threatens to lose himself in that sound, so sweet and free at the same time. But it is at that moment that he realizes that since you came to Earth and fought together, he had never heard you laugh. “Are you okay, Peter?”

“Uh?” He looks at you, surprised, because that is the first time you call him by his name. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

In your voice, his name sounds nice, and he blushes at that thought.

“So… do you like living here?”

Peter looks at you, but you are focused on the night view, which is very different from the world you used to live in.

“Yes, despite the noise and the occasional crime, I like this city.” He smiles. “You… do you plan to stay and live in New York?”

For some reason, Peter is worried to hear your answer.

“I don’t really know…” you shrug. “Now that dad’s not here, Uncle Thor is in charge of me, although sometimes it feels like I’m in charge of him…” you laugh, and Peter laughs with you. “But dad asked him to take care of me, so it’s all up to him. Uh, I guess we’ll be moving to Norway soon to start fresh with our people.”

Peter looks down for a moment, because suddenly he doesn’t want you to go away, and at the same time, he’s sad because he knows well what it’s like to lose a father. Although Loki never considered himself a hero, it was heroic what he did to protect his brother and his daughter.

“I’m so sorry about your dad.”

You smile at him for a moment before looking away.

“Thank you, Peter. I know dad wasn’t… the best role model, but he was always a good dad, loving, protective, and very funny when we were together. I know he loved my mother very much and he loved me very much.”

Peter hesitates his next question.

“And your mom… is she still alive?”

You shake your head, and although sadness threatens to flood your heart, you manage to smile at the memory of her.

“No. She was a force of nature, the queen of her own world, so when Thanos came to her planet first, she gave her life for her people. I lived with her and Dad for many years, so I grew up in a very loving home.”

Your words made Peter wonder how you didn’t seem sad when talking about the people you lost, because you seem the complete opposite of him.

“My parents died too…” unlike you, Peter can’t manage to smile at the memory. “My Aunt May raised me like I was her own son.”

Because you don’t know what to say, because you never learned to put your feelings into words, because in that you were very similar to your dad, your warm hand gently closes around his arm, making Peter look into your eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Peter.”

Your gaze is honest, and he threatens to get lost in the color of your eyes, which, for some reason, look at him fondly.

“Thank you, (y/n).”

His voice is so sincere, that your heart races as you pull your hand away. You clear your throat softly before speaking again, just so your words don’t falter.

“So… Do you have a girlfriend?”

Peter’s eyes widen as he looks at you in surprise, and you laugh.

“Sorry, was that too personal?”

Peter manages to snap out of his stupor in time.

“No–” His voice cracks, and he laughs at how embarrassed he feels, but it’s a funny embarrassment. “I mean; I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Do you want to?”

Peter didn’t understand the question.

“Are you offering to be?” He asks suddenly, so fast that it takes you by surprise.

“I…” you laugh nervously, but suddenly, you’re asking yourself if you want to be. “I was asking you if you wanted to have a girlfriend.”

“Oh…” Peter, sweet Peter Parker, couldn’t help but blush as he tells himself how clumsy he is. “Well… I guess it would be great to have someone to share moments with. Did you… have a boyfriend?”

“No…” you shake your head, but at peace with yourself, even though deep down, you wanted to feel a love like your parents. “Uncle Thor says I’m still too young for that.”

Peter blinks.

“Can I ask how old you are?”

You chuckle.

“A lot older than you.” You give him an amused smile. “A lot more. So, it would be weird if you had a girlfriend who is much older than you.”

At your words, Peter’s heart races. Were you flirting with him? Because it seems that way.

“Well…” Peter doesn’t know how to flirt, but he finds a clever way to do it. “You don’t look like it. You actually look really young.”

And then, you both look at each other and burst out laughing.

The conversation continues for a while longer, until, you know it’s time to go back to the solitude of your room. A little less uncomfortable with his closeness, as if a burger and a few words could bring you closer to him, you cling to Peter for a ride back. The moment you’re standing on the floor near the window as he holds onto the frame before leaving, it feels strange for you to say goodbye to each other, considering that soon, you would have to leave, forever.

The thought makes Peter’s chest tighten painfully.

“Thanks, Peter. I had a lot of fun with you.” You say sincerely.

“I had a lot of fun with you too, (y/n)…” your name, on his lips, tickles your stomach. “…I really hope you don’t leave so soon.”

For some reason, the momentary goodbye is sad.

“Goodnight, Peter.” You smile before turning around, just so he doesn’t see the expression on your face.

“Goodnight, (y/n)…” He whispers, limply, watching you leave.

The moment you’re out of sight, Peter heads back home. After walking for a moment through the compound, a hand flies up to your heart as you see your uncle, arms crossed, standing outside your room.

“What are you doing up so late, sir?” you laugh, casually, because like your dad, you weren’t worried about being reprimanded.

“I saw you.” Thor looks at you with narrowed eyes, giving you an accusatory look that didn’t cause anything in you. “I saw you leave with that boy.”

“Relax, uncle, Peter was just showing me the city.”

“Did you kiss him?” he asks, not missing a beat.

“No.” You shake your head, surprised.

“Do you want to?”

You stare at him in silence, because it’s the same question you asked Peter.

“That’s a very personal question.” You laugh, but as you open the door to your room, he follows you inside.

“(y/n), darling…” Thor says your name softly, lovingly, making you turn to look at him. “Do you want to stay in New York?”

For a moment, you consider his words.

“Are you thinking of staying here?”

Thor sighs.

“You know we have to go back to Norway soon to lead our people in this new world, but if you want to stay here, with the Spider-Boy, you could… start going to school like him and make a life here.”

Your heart beats rapidly. Would you do it?

#tom holland imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader

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winterzsurprise · 2 years ago

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False God || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x f! reader

Summary: Once again, you end up pinned underneath Miguel whose annoying smile flourished the butterflies in your stomach.

Tags: SMUT, NOT BETA READ, allusions to orgasm denials, gym sex, friends with benefit, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), one sided love, cunnilingus, angst(?), multiple orgasms, overstimulation.

Words: 1.7k

I am so sleepy but I have school. Managed to sneak this request during this hell week, I'm gonna try to make the other as soon as I can. Thank you for all your support, nearly 1k followers omg and thank you @path0logicalpeoplepleaser for your request and support again o/

hermosa - beautiful || cariño - darling

When you were first handed the invitation to join the spiderhub in the form of a heavy watch with a technology leagues far from your world, you were promised plenty of things. Knowledge, experience, adventure and connections with the other spider-people there are in the vast multiverse.

Being a free spirited soul, finally escaping the tiring cycle of taking down the same old villains terrorizing your city, you were ecstatic. Sure, you might face them once more just a different version but it was an option you’d take in a heartbeat. The challenge of different time periods and technology advancement gave you anticipation thrumming once more under your skin.

If it wasn’t for this, you would’ve quit being a spider.

But out of all the things you’ve expected when you entered the society, becoming enamored with someone so nonchalant and stoic as Miguel O’hara, the head of the operation, was not on your bingo card.

Him being your boss should’ve been the first warning but in the heat of passion and sweat and being pinned under him after growing frustrated from your lack of progress in battle training, you succumbed to the pressure of tension fogging your senses.

You blame him for everything.

He shouldn’t have reciprocated your kiss, shouldn’t have held you so sweetly despite his callous actions that day. If he hadn’t, maybe you wouldn’t be left in a situationship where you’re his sole outlet of frustration when work becomes unbearable and the pressure of being the leader of an organization is as huge as the spider hub gets to him.

If he doesn’t stir you so well with pleasure then you wouldn’t have been as attached to him as you are right now.

Pleasure struck your spine when his tongue found your clit, rolling it in tight figures of eight. You could feel his gaze burn through your skull while you withered and arched as he coaxed another orgasm out of you.

You can’t remember how you ended up beneath him once more, pinned and eaten out like there’s no tomorrow. You don’t even wanna bother counting how long it has been but with the way your legs trembled violently on his shoulders with every swirl of his tongue along with the pinpricks of pain shooting through you, it must’ve been an hour of constant decline already.

“Fu-fuck, please just fucking give it to me.”

One moment, he was teaching you the basics of some martial arts you couldn't bother to remember, the next, your legs are open and resting on his broad shoulders, bare as the day you were born out in the training quarters he ordered Layla to close down.

Why he initiated it? You've yet to know.

Miguel halts, tearing you away from your withheld orgasm to your absolute despair. But before a frustrated groan could leave your throat, a firm slap on your thigh stops it.

"So impatient, hermosa. It wouldn't hurt to ask me politely for it."

You’ve heard him call you beautiful plenty of times the whole time and it always awakens the butterflies in your stomach. He’s annoying and you like it.

He infuriates you to the brim with that smirk of his, yet you couldn't find it in you to leave him and his promises of ecstasy. His mouth is a drug intoxicating your blood and poisoning you fully, as does his body and touch. As if hypnotized, you couldn’t help but cling to him like he’s the salvation in middle of the chaos.

"Miguel, please? I'll be good, I promise!"

He said nothing, eyeing you with a blank stare before running his lithe fingers between your folds before finding your clit once more, sending delicious jolts down your spine.

Your muscles burned with exhaustion and aches from lack of use as it hitched onto his shoulders and his arms winded around your thighs, stapling you onto place with no other option but to absorb every thrill of ecstasy his fingers gave you.

"Can't really deny such a sweet request, can I?"

Miguel spreads your folds open before tracing down, intentionally dodging your throbbing clit and towards your leaking entrance and dragging his fingers up above your bundle of nerves.

The ache in your core grew with every tantalizing second spent under his torture, seeing the challenging shimmer in his dilated pupils, you had the mind to reach down to finish the job yourself but before you could, his large hand swiftly took yours and pinned them beside your waist.

You groaned, frustrated from his teasing and he chuckled. Traitorously, your heart skipped a beat, cheeks turning a shade deeper.

You couldn't believe that even in the midst of the frustration and lust, you found yourself growing enamored by him.

Each ghosting nudge of his fingers against your clit only urges more of your arousal to flood out of you. The ringed muscles pathetically contracting around nothing. You could only mew as he drenched his digits in your wetness, desire burned your chest and stirred your nerve endings awake.

Thick, filmy ropes of arousal clung to his digits as he pulled away. The strings pulled thin as he spread his digits and your body grew hot, flustered by the sight.

“Look at how wet you are for me, hermosa.”

The glee in his voice was unmistakable, this bastard. His tongue darts out to twirl over his digits before wrapping his plump lips around them. Your breath hitches as you watch him lick your arousal away from his hand so erotically. His dilated eyes never straying as it stares back at you, sending a pleasurable jolt down your back.

Without warning, he licks a broad line through your folds, and your back arches. From the hood of your clit, all the way down to your clenching hole before going back up and you gasped as ecstasy crawled down to your toes.

A groan rumbled his chest as he mouths at your folds like he was making out with it, tongue lithe as it flickered. Every lick reawakens the withered orgasm waiting at the tip of your tongue.

Your hands shoot to his head, fingers threading through his luscious locks before pulling him closer as your hips twitched closer to his tongue.

His gaze flicked up to you through his eyelashes, pupils dilated to the nines, barely leaving any red with how much lust and hunger has clouded it. Seeing your effect on him knocks your breath out of your lungs while a miniscule part of you rejoices with hope.

A hope that there’s something more outside of this stupid encounter of yours.

"Fuck..! Please, I need more."

Prickles of heat spike over your skin, blood boiling as he traced the trembling rim in languid strokes.

Pressure builds up in your abdomen as you grow dizzy from the stimulation, the declined orgasms from earlier now accumulating into the mass now weighing on your stomach.

It feels like too much yet your greed convinced you that it's not enough.

“Fuck… more please.” You begged weakly, eyes fluttering as his tongue lashed on your bundle of nerves, lulling your hips to rock onto his face.

Miguel relents, finally growing generous. His large arms wrapped around your thighs before pulling you flush to him as his tongue grew relentlessly on your clit and your mind blanks.

His fingers breached your walls without any restriction, practically gliding in. He wasted no time in building up a savage pace, plunging three inside of you with no regard for your comfort. Digits repeatedly poking your spot, curling just right, feeding into the mass growing and weighting your core.

“Miguel, just fucking do it, you bastard! Just fuck me already!”

His reaction is immediate. In a flicker, he had you on your stomach with your head pinned to the mat and ass up.

"So fucking annoying."

The loss of build up never faded as his digits were replaced by his dick, burying himself to the hilt but instead, it inflated into unreachable heights in one single push and you cry.

It didn’t take long before your orgasm boiled your entire body from the inside, lighting every nerve endings alight as blood rushed to your head in white flashes while your legs went numb as it trembled. The onslaught of pleasure attacking your insides felt too much yet felt so good.

The tug of war waging inside you drove you to insanity, the pain of overstimulation pinpricks your muscles yet the absolute heaven that is your orgasm had you floating. You were pulling him in as much as your body screams at you to push him away.

"Miguel… fuck—I can’t!"

"Another one, cariño. I know you can give it to me."

The new nickname however, didn't escape your notice. Honey, he calls you and the word echoed in your skull. The shimmering hope from earlier now fills your heart full as the delusion of something not quite there urged you closer into another orgasm.

The thrill of a new name of endearment unlocked got you giddy, overlapping the creeping negativity at the back of your head.

Miguel whispered incoherent words under his shaky breath as he shuddered and grew desperate with his thrust, no doubt near his own end. His hands grabbed onto you for salvation, almost worshiping as he dug his nails into your feverish flesh, urging your hips to meet his thrusts.

“Come with me, cariño.”

And with that, you fall once more. Legs convulsing around his torso as you cried out with your release.

Silence fell between you both, save for the loud gasps for breaths you took. His arms around your shoulders grounded you from the nirvana still resonating deep within your bones. It’s the small things that got butterflies running amok, Jess has frowned upon your easily swayed heart and shook her head once she heard about your situationship with Miguel, just two weeks after your first sexual encounter.

“That man is far from becoming the boyfriend you wanted. Miguel is all work and words, barely any feelings. Do me a solid and run off with someone better, I heard Shakespeare right there is searching for a nice partner.”

Sensing the usual air of nonchalance fogging around him like a second skin, you knew that it's true. You could've hung out with someone more gentle like Shakespearean Spider-Man, be treated like a princess with how hopelessly romantic he is but when Miguel looks so vulnerable with his eyes closed temporarily on your chest, you couldn't help but curl further into him.

It's annoying how you couldn't find it in yourself to leave him yet he'd dispose of you without a second thought.

You could almost see Layla materializing in front of you with a pitiful look, patting you with her holographic hand, knowing that after all of this, Miguel will continue his cold behavior once he's out of the haze of his orgasm.

You’re not dumb to know his words actually meant anything yet you couldn’t help but be deluded in your own world where the man of your dreams isn’t emotionally constipated and withdrawn.

As you watch him pull away from your arms and fix himself up, you sighed internally.

Maybe one day, just not today or tomorrow.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader one shot #marvel fics #marvel smut #spiderman smut #spider man fics #spider man smut #requests

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kit-kat-jo · 7 months ago

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a collection of obscure murder drones headcanons and thoughts before i forget them:

(some of these are very obviously speculative or possibly debunked but i just think they’re neat)

worker drones have more insect symbolism and behavior while dissassembly drones act more like wild animals, specifically carnivorous or cat-like (classic predator and prey) Nature repeats itself even if its through manmade robots, it would seem

worker drones, after humans kicked the bucket, continue to develop and update based on their initial software as some sort of survival instinct (not including the absolute solver), in order to keep on going. i imagine their software would have to heavily adapt to frequently creating little pill babies with their code, and maybe even certain instincts to protect themselves from murder drones

dissassembly drones can sometimes have different body builds based on status: lither bodies and less complicated outfits for squad members and more sophisticated getup and thicker / taller body mass for squad leaders, or maybe just specifically for pilots like N. (it could very well be a gender thing but i just think this idea is cooler!)

lil developing drones pick out their hard hats and what color they want when they’re old enough to be built a head, and once you have it built in and melded to your robot skull there’s no changing it. so Uzi partially wears a beanie because she hates the color of hers and wants to cover it up to uphold her emo phase aesthetic

drones don’t wear pants because… well they tried when first integrating themselves into a society, but because of how flat their bodies are built, they just slide right off. Maybe they could modify fabric or come up with some gadget to make them fit, but maybe it’s just not worth the trouble. (moreso, for an embarrassingly long time i thought the fuzz underneath Uzi’s hoodie was a skirt, but no it’s just the bottom of her hoodie… and i was wondering why literally no other drone in the show wore any fuckin pants)

before she rebooted as a zombie drone, little maid Cyn had the exact same personality as the solver acted out in episode 5 (just without the eltrich horror and glados voice attached) and just used it to blend in

i like to think there are a bunch more disassembly drones that the solver has under its belt that are scattered all over the other parts of Copper-9, scrounging other colonies and just waiting to appear in the big final fight or whatever the solver has planned up for the finale… the whole alphabet squad pulling up

branching off of this one, when serial designation bots run out of letters they cycle through them again, imagine N face to face with another DD and they have the same name and V just kills his proclaimed brother in front of his eyes traumatizing him forever

#i fucking love robots!!! (somebody please knock her unconscious with a metal pipe.)#murder drones #hcs #headcanons #glitch productions #serial designation n #serial designation v #serial designation j #uzi doorman #tessa james elliot #murder drones cyn #i know some of these are blown out of proportion but my brain likes to make things fun #md

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aethersocietyofficial · 6 months ago

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♡ HELLO WORLD! ♡

I am SO SO SOSO pumped to FIIIINALLY officially introduce the ~AETHER SOCIETY~! (^O^)/

We're a RAD, SMART, and ♡TOOOOOTALLY ADORBS♡ group that is SUPER DUPER DEDICATED to preserving the REAL goal of Lady Lusamine and the REAL Aether Foundation!! We felt the way it's been going is so totally NOT KEWL <(｀^´)> so we decided to TAKE A STAND and put the world on the RIGHT TRACK!!! (*^.^*) We made this account for a *fewwwwww* awesomesauce reasons- to SPREAD THE WOOOOORD ＼(^o^)／, to *sometimes* posting supercute mems of supercute Pokémon because they're *supercute*!!!,,, and to get the universe PUMPED! RIGHT! UP! for our STELLAR REVIVAAAAL!!!! ♡♡ヽ(´ー`)人(´∇｀)人(` v´)ノ ♡♡

SPEAKING OOOOOOOOF here's the SUPER COOL LINK to our SUPER COOL MISSION STATEMENT by the SUPER FABULOUS DR. ZENO!!! MAKE SURE TO GIVE IT A REEEAD ~♡

Please also see posts tagged with "mission statements" for updates regarding this document. We are always learning and expanding more as a society.

(Other post links since I forgot to reblog these off of this post when I made them oops.)

OOC post

OOC character rundown

*BUT ENOUGH OF ALL THAT BOOOOOOOORING STUFF,,,, DONTCHA WANNA MEET US????*

♡♡ I'LL GO FIRST!!! ♡♡ ehehe~ (`･ω･´)

My name is Hydie! ♡♡ Soo cute right?? ♡♡

I go by she/her, I'm originally from Kanto (ugh.. (；一_一)) but I'm an Alolan girl at heart~♡. I'm super stylish at 19 FOREVER!! I'm also this awesome blogs CREATOR AAAAAAND I run it and the rest of the Aether Society as its leader!! So you'll be hearing a lot from Lil ol meeeee~ (^_-)-☆ I've got a big team of ♡♡ADORBS LITTLE CUTIE BABIES♡♡ and I CANT WAIT to show them all to you!!!

This is my FAAAAAV picture of me, in case you REALLY wanted to know how cute I was ;)

Ignore the weird guy behind me! He doesn't matter.

Hello. I am Dr. Zeno, the leading and only scientist of the Aether Society. I am also the goal coordinator. I am the one you will speak to if you have any questions regarding our mission statement (which will be posted soon) or any other scientific inquiry. Enclosed is a photo of me in my former uniform. I am told I will need to update it soon. I go by they/them and am an adult. (I do not feel the need to disclose my age).

I have since ranked up from an entry-level scientist.

WHATS UP GANG ITS THE BOY COMIN AT YA!

You already know what fuckin TIME IT IS- YATT TIME BABY! My full name is Wyatt but that's such a dork-ass name so I go by Yatt- AND DONT NONE OF YOU BITCHES CALL ME WYATT OR I SWEAR I WILL FUCK YOU UP!

(Hydie says I'm not allowed to swear, but we'll fuckin see about that huh?)

As a former Pokémon Ranger, Team Plasma agent, AND Team Skull agent (Guzma is a weak-ass shithead by the way) I've kinda been around the block a few times- which is why I do the dirty work when these two softies don't wanna do it lmaooooo. I got a Team of absolute fuckin killers and I'm not afraid to use them or my fists- that shit is up to how much you piss me off, YA FEEL?

Oh and yea I go by he/him and I'm 21- and I'll TOTALLY buy you fireworks and shit too hmu. Here's my picture so you can find me ahaha

I look like a TOTAL DORK I know but I swear to fuckin arceus I'll update it soon alright

♡♡*AAAAND THATS ALL OF US!!* HOPE TO SEE YOU GUYS AROUND SOON- WE'RE SOOOO EXCITED TO MEET YOU!!! ♡♡

(^^)/~~~

#pokeblogging #pokemon irl #irl pokemon #pokeblog rp #villain blog #villains #unreality #//ooc post coming soon and will attach to this post

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incorrect-murderdrones · 6 months ago

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ANDDD WE HAVE A QUOTE MASTERPOST! ALL QUOTES BELONG TOO: @the-island-of-quotes HAVE FUN AND FOLLOW THAT PERSON :D -Mod Kai

N: This is what Victor would look like if he was doctor Seuss.

Uzi: There's a socket in my pocket, maybe this will help me fix my sprocket.

Uzi: It's not a 5, or a 6, or a 10, I have seem to have lost all of those again.

Uzi: And when it comes to wrenches, it seems all of them have disappeared off my fucking work benches.

Uzi: So even though there is a socket in my pocket I can't even use it to fix my fucking sprocket

*Next day*

Uzi: Another tool another day, I dropped some more shit in this fucking engine bay.

Uzi: But it's okay because I bought this car to get from point A to point B.

Uzi: And after one week of ownership I'm kinda hoping this thing gets crushed by a fucking tree.

Uzi: I've wanted to sell this car since week one, but nobody wants to buy it when it has every problem under the sun.

Uzi: This car will just remain broken and collect some dust, and eventually this piece of shit will start collecting rust.

Uzi: But at this point I don't really care! I have the time, nor money or energy to try and repair.

Uzi: I'm just gonna say fuck this, and sell this shit on craigslist to some guy named Chris.

______________________________________________________________

V: I now proudly present, the life and times of earnest Hemingway in aproxamently 3 and a half minutes. GO! Born in Chicago in 1899, son of a physician and a musician, reasonably uneventful childhood, decided to study Journalism. Enlisted with the Red Cross during World War I, got BLOWN up in Milan and spent 6 months in hospital with severe shrapnel wounds in both legs. Fell in love with a nurse, they decided to get married. He came home to prepare, she stayed there and ditched him for an Italian soldier, which initiated a life long pattern of him rejecting women before they had a chance to reject him. Got a job as a foreign correspondent, fell in love with his roommates' sister, married her and moved to Paris. They hung out with Gertrude Stein. They kicked it with Pablo Picasso. He started writing in earnest, no pun intended. Moved to Toronto, had a kid, moved back to Paris, published a couple of books. Cheated on his wife, got divorced, married the other woman. Converted to Catholicism... Cut his head open after pulling on a cord thinking he was flushing a toilet and instead ripped a skylight from the roof and smashed it onto HIS FACE! Moved to Kansas City, had another kid, his dad committed suicide, he shot a lot of bears for some reason. Had a car accident, had another kid, went to Africa to kill some wild animals and got dysentery karma! Published another book, moved to Cuba, SHOT HIMSELF IN THE LEG WHILST AIMING AT A SHARK! Cheated on his wife, got divorced, married the other woman. Published "For Whom the Bell Tolls," sold half a million copies in a couple of months and got nominated for a Pulitzer Prize. Cheated on his wife, got divorced, married the other woman. Became the self appointed leader of a band of village Militia outside of Paris and was subsequently brought up on charges for contravening the Geneva Convention, and GOT AWAY WITH IT LIKE A FUCKING CHAMPION! Got pneumonia, moved back to Cuba and spent most of his spare time on his boat TRACKING NAZI U-BOATS WITH A MACHINE GUN AND A PILE OF HAND GRENADES I AM NOT MAKING THIS SHIT UP! Had a few more car accidents, three more concussions, got CLAWED WHILE PLAYING WITH A LION... Got depressed, drank. Got fat, published a couple more books, went back to Africa to shoot some more wild animals, and barely survived two separate plane crashes in the space of 24 hours, winding up with a fractured skull, internal bleeding, cracked spine, ruptured liver, first degree burns, and a paralyzed sphincter muscle karma! Won a Nobel Prize, had a file opened on him by J. Edgar Hoover, left a bunch of shit in a safe in Cuba and moved to Idaho, paranoid that the feds were following him WHICH THEY WERE BECAUSE HE SPENT MOST OF THE 1940S WORKING FOR THE KGB, AGAIN NOT MAKING THIS SHIT UP! Suffered from hepatitis, nephritis, hypertension, hemochromatosis, anemia and impotence, karma. Got committed, received way too much electroconvulsive therapy and came out all fucked up, started hinting at suicide so immediately got recommitted, received another couple of months worth of electroconvulsive therapy, got released, put both barrels of his favorite 12-gauge shotgun into his mouth and BLEW HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF! WHAT A GUY!

______________________________________________________________

N: Welcome to applebees! What'll it be? Apples or bees? Congrats, you get bees!!!

______________________________________________________________

Doll: Now that I've added the milk to the cereal tell me, is that milk now a beverage, a broth, or a sauce? Answer carefully Khan, you're wife's life depends on it!

______________________________________________________________

Uzi: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true whoever is controlling my Sim I JUST WANNA TALK!!

______________________________________________________________

N: Do you think god stays in heaven because he too fears what he's created? That's a quote from Spy Kids 2 have you ever seen it it's like peak cinema.

______________________________________________________________

Uzi: Who needs sleep when you run on equal parts NyQuil and Methamphetamine?

______________________________________________________________

V: Just remember Uzi people die when they are killed!

______________________________________________________________

V: Ha! You're pointless!

Doll: Thirty nine buried.

*Gunshot*

Doll: Zero found

______________________________________________________________

N: Which one of you was gonna tell me tea tastes different if you put in hot water?

Uzi: Y- you we're putting it in cold water???????

V: N. Answer the question N!

N: Yeah??? I thought for like five years people just put it in hot water to speed up the tea-ification process, didn't realize there was an actual reason.

J: You don't have the patience to microwave water for three minutes??

Doll: Why are you. Putting it in the microwave to boil it?

J: Do you think I have the patience to boil water on the stove?

Doll: It takes less than a minute!

J: Doll is your stove powered by the fucking sun!?

Doll: How long does it take to boil a cup of water on your stove?

J: LIKE SEVEN MINUTES!

Doll: Just stick the mug on top of the stove on medium heat and it boils in two minutes, less if you use a saucepan.

Lizzy: Crying your putting the whole mug on the stove??? On medium heat??? Your stove is enchanted!

Uzi: Every drone in this exoplanet is a fucking idiot.

Cyn: DO NONE OF YOU OWN A FUCKING KETTLE!?!?! REMEMBER TO FOLLOW: @the-island-of-quotes AS THEY OWN THESE QUOTES :D

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sinon36 · 9 months ago

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Ghost x undercover!reader (HC) Part II

Warnings: blood, violence, kidnapping, mistakes hehe, a bit of fluff

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

- the second time you meet you don’t even recognize him

- you are sent to meet up with a freshly assembled team, a few hand-picked men and women with various skills, the most capable, for a new sensitive covert mission

- with your experience and prone eye to details, you’re quickly made team leader alongside an S.A.S. Lieutenant

- he wears a skull mask sewn on a black balaclava, 6’4 wall of hard muscle, and the most intimidating gaze you’ve ever seen in someone’s eyes

- you don’t back down when you are introduced to one another, handshake firm, brown eyes meeting your own for a long time, as if caught in a duel of gazes

- you learn his name, in fact his callsign ‘Ghost’

- you deem it fit for his choice of gear and his mannerisms

- he rarely speaks and when he does it is short and to the point, making astute observations or asking good questions, the rest of his time is spent in silence, sharp eyes scanning the room full of people or the files handed to him

- for how big he is he sure likes to disappear unnoticed acting just like his namesake

- nothing is known about him, in truth no one on the team knows much about the others, no more than the essentials: their callsign and specialization, the rest is redacted

- you are not a curious person and you leave him be, but you can deny that he’s intriguing

- you find out you work well together; you plan and scheme for the operation, making up fictional scenarios and coming up with backup plans for every backup plan there is

- you don’t socialize much outside your work, but the silence between you two doesn’t feel awkward, more like understanding, a silent pact to not disturb the other from mental preparations and other thoughts regarding the near future danger that awaits you

- the plan is quite simple: you’ll pose as an ex-military expert in explosive devices, who just got dishonourably dismissed for having slept with a superior office at the base, and with no pension and a wish for revenge on the government that failed you; you get recruited by a terrorist cell via dark web that wants a large amount of explosive for a big hit on London;

- the buyer wants a meetup in a couple of days and a live demonstration that your devices work and do the desired amount of damage

- you’re the main piece on the chess board, the rest are there to support you and extract you in case the meetup goes awry

- and you prepare accordingly, mastering the art of explosives in just a few days, you are a fast learner, you work very clean and organized which make you look the part

- one day before the expected meetup, everything is ready, all the plans have been poured over, every detail accounted for

- it’s the calm before the storm as they say, you’re more quiet than usual, mentally going over every possibility and carefully repeating answers to possible questions

- Ghost notices this and in a small gesture of kindness or maybe just good fellowship he brings you a mug of tea, your favourite Earl Gray with a splash of soy milk; you’re surprised to find out that it’s perfect, from temperature to ratio to taste; he’s been watching you and taking notes of your methodical way of making tea; you can’t help but appreciate that and the attention to details; a man after your own heart

- you thank him and he smirks under his balaclava at your reaction of pleasant surprise that you quickly school with a small nod focusing your gaze to a fixed point on the coffee table in front of you

- the last few hours before the mission starts is spent in the lounge room; you read your notes for the final time and he listens to music on his headphones, so loud you can hear the rhythm

- he sees you absentmindedly bouncing your leg to the music, not once asking him to turn it off; he smirks again noting that you probably have similar tastes in music as well, he’ll have to test that theory

- when you carpool together to head towards the location sent to you by the target, he senses your tension and tells you a joke, a dark one that makes you smile a bit; he seems to be smirking a lot at your interactions lately

- he pulls the SUV a few blocks further away and before you make your way out of the passenger seat he grabs your upper arm making you freeze entirely, he’d never touch intentionally until now

- you make eye contact and reminds you to pull out if something feels wrong and you nod in agreement

- he reminds that he won’t be able to listen to you because you can’t take a wire with you (you’ll surely be patted down), but he’ll be close, and he’ll have eyes on you on all times through the scope of his sniper rifle; the bravo team will be close by to provide back-up; this time you’re not alone

- that thought is a lot more reassuring than you thought, you trust him completely, having seen his marksmanship skills at the firing range

- with that your mission begins

- you walk towards the alley you’re suppose to meet your target and you’re not surprised to see a black van pulling over, two brutes climbing out of it grabbing you and putting a cowl on your feet while dragging you inside the car

- your plan included this situation and you know that Ghost will follow the car at a safe distance until you reach the final destination

- you feel hands on you, patting down hard and pulling your shirt up looking for any hidden device; it makes your skin crawl but you manage

- you count around 45 minutes of driving and when the asphalt ends and gravel begins you know you are close to the actual destination

- when the car stops you are shoved out of the car and they drag you somewhere inside

- when the cowl is ripped off you find yourself in a hangar with windows on both sides and a thick concrete wall in the middle that’s only connected to the floor

- you are surrounded by men in dark clothes, faces covered by shemagh scarves and in the middle a man dressed in a suit beckons you forth greetings kept to a minimum

- you are brought to a table where explosives and an array of electrical components lie in a heap

- his voice is deep, not as deep as that of Ghost and is laced with an eastern Asian accent

- the instructions are simple, make an IED with what’s on the table in under 20 minutes, it has to work and it has to take down that wall

- a timer is set before you and you get to work

- 16 minute and 54 seconds later you’re done and you mount the device in the middle of the wall

- every one gets as far as possible, turning away from the blast

- when the dust settles the buyer claps impressed that little remains of that wall

- you begin negotiations; you push for £1.000.000.000 he refuses, you argue that you need to buy supplies and they’re not cheap; he proposes a lower fee and that he’ll provide what is needed; you agree on the condition that he brings you to his supplier arguing that you want to do a quality check first, eliminating all and any error in the manufacturing process; he takes a moment to think about it; you argument that he can be double crossed and buy useless crap at huge prices and that you can lower those prices based on what the seller has to offer; he agrees and tells you that soon you will be contacted the same way you were today; you hum and ask for part of the payment now ‘for the trouble’ you say as you nod towards his brutes; he accepts.

- you’re taken back to the alley you were picked up from, the ride played in reverse, once again the cowl is thrown over your head

- Ghost picks you up from the park nearby, your established pick-up point

- once inside the passenger seat he notices the small exhale of relief you try to mask as yawn

- he drives in complete silence eyes front; he breaks it asking for the deal; you summarize; not only did you manage to meet the buyer and impress him but you managed to convince him to bring you to his supplier; he whistles in appreciation

- you feel your cheeks warm up; shock: you never blush, never, not at compliments not ever; you hate it but also like it a little.

- you ask him in return, and he clarifies that he had you in his sights all the time, ready to drop anyone that dared as little as breathing wrong in your direction, just as promised; you hum in a show of respect and appreciation, he nods in return; you are amazed how easily you can communicate non-verbally with one another - you make a great team

Next part here.

Previous part here.

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