#and get the breaks beat off of them by every single villain like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bitchlessdino · 1 year

Text

TPC: Mingyu's sloppy ex sex

Series

Pairing: ex!mingyu x afab!reader (wearing a skirt)

Genre: smut

Word count: 2.1k

tags: toxic themes, villainized reader, mentions of alcohol and vaping, reader makes out with man that isn't mingyu, high!gyu, yearning, voyeurism (kinda?), male masturbation, sex on a car, unprotected sex, degrading, spanking, choking, obvious hostility

Summary: Mingyu and his ex had be broken up for so long already and he was finally getting over them, but god be damned if you didn’t look so hot tonight.

author note: happy birthday to mingyu, hope you get laid. not like this tho, you deserve to be happy. Also to readers, don't romantize this IRL. be good people, be kind to your partners or loved ones. Enjoy smut as smut not inspiration for real life. be so fucking for real. ily

tag list: @iwouldbangchan @1uvlywon @just-here-to-read-01 @candidupped @minnie-mouser22 @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @honglynights @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @lovelyhan

Mingyu had been a single man for 7 months, 8 days, and 14 hours; but who's counting?

He didn’t miss you. He just missed your face. And your hair. Your perfume that reminded him of cotton candy and starbursts. And how your naked body would stretch like a starfish every morning. And the expensive coffee bean you insisted on hand grinding every day. See. He missed those things. Definitely not you.

At least that’s what he told himself when he saw you the first time since the break, standing in an impossibly delectable getup when you walked through that front door. God, did you know how to dress to impress the masses. You knew he couldn’t keep his hands off of you when you had on leather, his unspoken kryptonite.

He crushed the red solo cup in his hand as you shamelessly flirted with the man across from you. The blonde man maybe was as buff as Mingyu, handsome as Mingyu, but at least he wasn't as tall as Mingyu. Mingyu was hard to beat at height.

Still, your attention was on the stranger. Mingyu felt pathetic. He had every nerve in his body to pull you away from the bastard and stick you up against a wall and fuck you senseless, but things were over between the two of you. He had no right.

His doubt displaces as you lean against the man, their arm falling around your waist, as your eyes pierced back at Mingyu. They spoke volumes in each other's gazes. You simply watch the expressions on Mingyu’s face as the man begins pressing kisses lightly against the hollow of your neck. You feign moans that aren't audible from where Mingyu stands, but it is obvious as the stranger hikes up your leg and presses his mouth against yours.

Your eyes flit back at your ex through a heavy-lidded observation. You giggle the stranger’s name, loud enough for Mingyu to make it out this time, and he storms out at once. Mingyu could’ve done anything. Leave the party. Find a stranger to fuck. Drown himself in hard liquor. He did none of that.

Instead, he tried to find the nearest place to relieve himself. Unfortunately, he didn’t know where a goddamn restroom was, let alone a bedroom, which was probably preoccupied with some horny youths, anyway. Finally, he opens a door to a garage, a large one, in fact. Cars and motorbikes follow behind one another like an assembly line. It smells of metal and motor oil, but it would do.

His eyes land on a conveniently placed bench across from the door, and he takes a seat, immediately going to unzip his pants. It was probably the alcohol, or the puff he took from Vernon’s vape pen, but he was going to pull it out, he was going to stroke it, and he wasn't going to care.

He utters a soft, “fuck,” before shutting his eyes. He closes his palms around his shaft, rubbing himself, making use of that hand lotion you left behind when you left that stays resident in his front pocket. Your familiar scent lingers, making its way up his nostrils, and he whispers your name. “Fuck, Y/n.”

He slides down against the wall behind him, dragging up and down, squeezing to emulate the grip of your pussy, groaning loud when he finds the right pressure. “Y/n, Y/n, Y/n.”

He senses tension in his abdomen, taking the pace of his wrist up, and this goes on for a few minutes. The image of your sopping, dirty, little cunt wrapped around his cock is just enough to get him off. He’s so close. So close, he can taste the cum from where he’s sitting. His eyes flutter, ready to take the last gratifying stroke when he hears a door close. He looks up, your back and arms pinned against the door behind you, peering at him in amusement. “Whatcha’ doing there, Mingyu?”

And like that, he misses the high tide. His blown out eyes stare back at you, listlessness. He straightens up. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?”

Reminder that Mingyu wasn’t sober, let alone sane, especially seeing your legs cross over one another as you lean on the door. His hand has a mind of its own when it goes back to play with himself, sucking in a single breath. “What does it look like?”

“Are you high?”

“Yeah. So?”

You snort, crossing your arms. “You can’t just play with yourself in the middle of a fucking party. Mingyu.”

“Says who?”

You slowly approach him, one foot over the other, towering over him. “Have some decency. You look desperate fucking yourself. Cover it up.”

How dare you, he thought. You don’t get to tell him what to do anymore. He fucks himself hard in his grip–immeasurably slow and tight–hips thrusting up through his palms. “Like I give a flying fuck.”

You click your tongue at him. “I guess as a fellow party guest, I should show you how to handle yourself with other people around.”

You set your hands against both his shoulders. He swallows, already getting an idea of what’s about to happen. Your chest is to his face before you lower yourself and fill yourself out. A moan vibrates in your throat–following Mingyu’s guttural one–before claiming his lips and slowly grinding down in his lap. He indulges in your initiation, but catching a moment of clarity, the ghost of your lips still on his as he pulls away. “What are you doing?”

“You looked lonely,” you said softly, “And I can fix that.”

Hsi breath grows uneven as your raw core tightens around his girth, making him remember how you loved going commando when you went out together, and it seems you still do. His hands come up behind you, feeling your body underneath your clothes, pulling up your leather skirt higher. “I thought you were over me. You said we’re through.”

You roll your eyes, threading through his hair. “You were staring at me. I thought you’d want this.”

“Why?” His hand curls to the back of your head. “What happened with the guy?”

You let out a sultry chuckle. “He was too eager.”

“I thought you liked that kind of thing.”

Yo shrug, grinning. You lay your hands against the texture of his jean jacket before sliding it off, feeling the ridged shape of his sculpted body. He’s big, as you remember, if not bigger. Your hands slide over his smooth, olive skin, and grip his sides before rolling your hips to hear that gasp leave his lips. “I like it more on you.”

You force pressure against his lips, swallowing them. You catch his moan down your throat, your aching heat gets stretched from his pulsating muscle pushing inside you. His hands fall to your hips, palms covering up your ass as grabs balls of your flesh in reflex. “God fuck, Y/n.”

“How much do you want me,” you ask in harsh breaths, “paint a picture for me.”

“I definitely fucking want you.”

His arms loop around your body and lock you in place. His length comes up inside you by his force, fucking you with all his body can muster, while his grunts play louder than the sounds of music coming from the populated common area. Your arms rest over his shoulders, knees coming up the bench and kneeling.

You breathe rhythmically, soft moans coating your tongue, and you grow flush under his touch. Your bottom lip gets trapped between your teeth, but a smile still manages to stretch across your face. His thighs are hard beneath you, hitting against you like a slab of marble, but the warmth radiating off of them ebbs the arousal from out your body.

His lips find your neck, sucking over the spots the stranger kissed, bitting, stinging your skin, so you can only remember the presence of him. He held your thighs tight by his palms, raising your body up and bouncing you in his lap. The sounds of your skin slapping triggers amicable memories like the time he pulled you in that stadium storage closet or how he took underneath a beach towel at Daytona.

It’s riveting, titillating, just simply blood pumping. You feel like you could fucking burn the world and not give a single fuck, and that’s what fucking Kim Mingyu felt like.

You had every intention of getting to this point because you knew Mingyu and how fucking possessive he was, even when he didn’t act like it. If you were being honest, that was some of the wrong in the relationship, but not this–nor the back-breaking sex– was the reason at all why things ended. Never the sex. If anything, it was you, but you wouldn’t admit that.

“You feel so fucking good inside me.”

His second kryptonite, words of affirmation. He fucks himself seep inside you, intending to bottom out, which he succeeds. Your eyes flutter shut from the shock and simply take it. His torso pulls forward, holding you up from the ground. The deeper he plunges, the harder the release. His name is inevitable to leave when you cum, your knees come up to his side, locking at your ankles, and it only takes him a moment to return the favor.

It’s hot and full in your cunt, feeling his honey seep over your thighs. He clenches his teeth, feeling sweet and utter relief. It was just what he needed. You simultaneously sigh, dropping your head against your shoulder as you catch your breath. “That was nice.”

“It was.”

Seizing the opportunity of your weakness, he picks you up and folds you against the hood of a random car. Dangling off, your feet barely reach the ground. Your cheeks roughly make contact first with his hand on the back of your neck, startled against the cool metal. The head of his cock then contradicted the icy surface, sliding back and forth over your spent pussy that was already flooded with his cum. He coats himself in his own release, playing with the intensity of your whines, before he returns to his rightful place.

His hands come up over your ass in a deep-rooted crack to your flesh. You cry out in distress, hands flat pressed against the car and you feel him oscillate his cock, doing what he wanted instead of what he tolerated.

In came another crack of his palm. You whine his name once more, dragging your clit on the sleek surface of the car. “Yes, like that! Fuck me like that!”

God, you have a filthy mouth. And god, did Mingyu miss that.

Your eyes roll back when he gets rigorous, pounding into you like a mindless animal. The hand on the back of your neck squeezes hard, slamming you back into the car. “Feel so good for me. I knew you wanted me. Wanted my dick inside. Fucking your wet, dirty pussy.”

Another strike that makes you jump.

“I’m going to have you cum all over this car. You like that? You wanna cum while I fuck you up against this car?”

You nod into the metal, “Yes, give it to me, give it to me, Mingyu.”

He turns you on your back, he finally meets your eyes once again. He takes a leg to throw over his shoulder and his cock rocks back into you like perfection. He holds your gaze, hand coming to compress against the column of your neck. You feel it, the danger, the thrill, the toxicity. It almost causes you to black out, and maybe that's what you deserved. It’s like instead of blood running through your veins, it's venom. You could bathe in it.

Your hair flattens as you throw your head back on the smooth surface, reveling in the fullness, slamming your hands against the car, ready to come apart once again. Your legs contract, taking him, all of him like it was the first time. Oh sweet child, to go back to a time to like that again.

“Yes, Gyu, please, Gyu. Like that. Hurt me. Hate me.”

Your climax overwhelms you, not even processing his embrace as it envelops you when his climax follows soon after. Violent final pumps make way deep inside you, defiant of spilling out again. You feel his heavy pants on the skin of your cheek. He pulls away after some time to see your eyes, glassy and euphoric like the ones that deceived him before. He then follows to your lips, swollen, naturally pursed from the kisses. The same lips that told him lies and promised to not break his heart in a million pieces.

“Incredible, Mingyu…”

“I hate you so fucking much.”

It’s the last thing he says before kissing you again, triumphantly. If he was going to have sex with again, he would do it like it’s the last.

#svthub #smingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu #mingyu #seventeen #seventeen kim mingyu #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen mingyu #seventeen fanfic

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ghostytoad · 7 months

Note

hey!! if you’re taking requests, i’d like to request the rottmnt boys falling for a fem! reader who’s basically like your stereotypical raph. she loves fighting, loves working out, loud asf, short-tempered, blunt, sarcastic, cursed with resting bitch face, all that jazz. but, once you get to know her, she’s actually really funny and sweet. NEVER afraid to speak her mind, so she may come across as rude or sassy at times, but she never really means to be. DEFINITELY has mild adhd and is on the autism spectrum. 🫶

Hfhdks yippe, my v first request!! tbh the boys can use a little extra chaos in their life so this was really fun to write abt. hopefully it's decent, i'm still v new to writing this kinda stuff!!

* Kiss with a Fist *

ROTTMNT Boys x Fem! Raph-esque reader who is secretly a sweet softie

Summary: The Hamato brothers unexpectedly fall for an intimidating, snappy, but secretly sincere human.

Headcanons for: Raph, Donnie, Leo, & Mikey

Fem! Reader; Romantic; Fluff; Mild violence || Words: 4k

Feel free to send in more requests and prompts!!

Raph:

to be honest, raph was initially intimidated and wary of y/n when they first met

like sure, he's used to his brothers being a bit too curt and impulsive and april can come off as sassy and overbearing but none of that compares to the levels y/n is on

something about how forward she can be really puts the poor turtle on edge

until he starts getting to know her a little better, finding out more about her hobbies and all

after a period of initial surprise, he starts getting used to y/n's presence in the lair

she fits in almost naturally in their family dynamic; she's basically one of them now and he loves having someone around who shares his interests

plus he could always use a workout buddy; not that his brothers aren't good spotters but he could always use a break from their antics

will take y/n to every wrestling event & spend the entire time gushing about his newest wrestling idol and when they're not out and about beating up bad guys or playing video games, he will allow y/n to sit in and spot him while he powers through his rigorous workouts

he enjoys being able to swap workout tips and tricks with y/n; treats every little bit of advice she gives as divine wisdom & he will take it all to heart

he likes to brag to his brothers about how strong y/n is, especially considering that she can keep up with his mutant abilities; everything she does impresses him to no end

opened a jar of pickles without help? amazing

landed on her feet after a pretty high tumbling jump? absolutely incredible

being able to handle his occasional hugs? literally the best thing in the world to him

having y/n around motivates raph to train harder and push himself past his limits

unfortunately, this has led to a few injuries-

"uh oh. y/n ain't gonna be happy to hear about this..."

cue the scolding, the lectures, and the bedrest. y/n's orders. but raph secretly enjoys being doted on by y/n so he won't say no

it didn't take raph too long to realize his feelings for y/n

he'd been picking up on little hints here and there, but he'd talk himself out of that silly train of thought every single time

like when he'd catch her watching him train and could feel that rush of heat burn at his cheeks

'i've just been training too hard and it's way too hot in here'

and when he couldn't get y/n off his mind when she wasn't around?

'i'm just worried about her is all. who knows what kinda trouble her loud mouth might get her in-'

but it was when y/n was comforting raph after a bust mission one particular night that really did him in and confirmed his feelings

It's bad enough when the brothers fail in their latest mission, but to get their butts handed to them by Hypno of all villains? Eesh, talk about major humiliation stink. The loss had them all silently slinking back into their lair, hoping to sleep off the defeat at the hands of their unimpressive foe. Raph was just about to make his way into his room to mop when he spotted Y/N waiting up for them in the lair's living room. It was upon seeing her sitting there with an unreadable, stern expression that a realization hit him. They had plans later.

"Hey, sorry, YN. No Brunch 'n Punch tonight. Raph's a lil' tired..." his low and gruff voice did little to hide the timid air in his tone. "I-I'll make it up to ya though! Promise!"

Despite his stuttered attempt to console Y/N and her anticipated disappointment, his tired expression and wilted posture gave away just how exhausted and downtrodden the towering mutant was. It was more than enough to tell Y/N a few things:

Raph had another rough day.

Raph once again pushed himself and got hurt.

And Raph needed someone to help carry that weight.

Before he could continue his defeated shuffle past Y/N, he felt a sudden tug on the lip of his rugged shell. Not even a second after, he felt his torso being enveloped by the subtle warmth of what could only be a person. Was Y/N hugging him...? Looking down from his stunned silence, he found Y/N with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, face hidden by the jutting ridges of his plastron. Unable to find the words to break the tense silence surrounding them, Raph simply lets out a low chuckle as his hand gently caresses the back of Y/N's head.

"If this is about me bailing on our plans, Raph gets it. You probably hate m-"

"What am I gonna do with you, Raph...? What am I going to do if you won't take care of yourself..." Y/N's voice was unusually small.

"Say what?" The mutant didn't know what to make of the wavering tone in Y/N's voice. Was she mad? Was she worried? It was unlike Y/N to be this... vulnerable.

After a few more moments of silence, Raphael broke out of his confusion with a realization. Y/N was still holding him. The exhaustion and shame began lifting its shrouding curse off of him as his body eased into the comforting embrace. So warm. So gentle. So caring. Everything about Y/N was perfect, even the parts of her personality that she chose to share only with him. It was then that another, more pressing realization came to his mind.

Damn, does this boy got it bad. He's in love.

Donnie

he's entirely put off by y/n's whole demeanor and keeps his distance at first; like raph on his own can be a headache to deal with, but now there's two of them??

he won't outright avoid her, he just prefers quieter company

he can't exactly say they share many similar interests, but y/n's newfound spot as a member of his little family gives him incentive to at least try finding some common ground to bond over

so when it comes to the more physical and brawn-heavy aspect of his work, he can truly appreciate y/n's constant presence

god knows he can't trust his brothers to be careful or attentive enough to help him in the lab and april isn't always around to enthusiastically offer her assisstance when needed... but y/n just happens to be the perfect solution to his otherwise frustrating problem

dare he say it: "she's reliable and more importantly always happy to lend a hand"

and donnie really values the way y/n is willing to listen to him drone on about his latest projects and mapping out his complex thought process; all with very little complaint (a huge plus for him!)

in fact, she even seems eager to learn and is quick to pick up on the nuances of his work. he can also understand/empathize with y/n's misunderstood demeanor when it comes to her stone faced expression ('or resting bitch face, as she so eloquently put it')

donnie's never been good at expressing himself; he knows how vexing it can be when everyone seems intent on misreading one's emotions based on something as fickle as facial expression

and the more time donnie spends with y/n, the more he's able to observe her and her subtle mannerisms

it's gotten to the point where he can pick up on her subtle cues and accurately read her mood better than anyone else. to his brothers, it's as if y/n and donnie share a telepathic connection with how easily they can communicate with a simple glance

it doesn't take long for him to get used to y/n's more rambunctious and wild behaviors; when he's not busy working, he will sometimes invite her on their less eventful missions and adventures

he won't say it out loud, but he's really come to respect y/n's combat prowess and her ability to hold her own

admires it even... one might even say he lov-

'nope. no. nein. not the l-word...'

donnie's always quick to catch himself before he can finish off that thought but he can't help himself; cute and mean are just his type after all

whether or not he chooses to pursue those feelings though....

well, let's just say y/n really didn't leave him a choice after she practically saved his life during one fairly unexpected encounter

It hadn't been a hard mission. The Hamato brothers had successfully thwarted another run-of-the-mill robbery at the appropriately named Run of the Mill Pizzeria. Relishing in their triumph, the four turtles, joined by their newest companion Y/N, decided to make a night of it and order a few celebratory 'zzas. It was as Donnie was making his way to the booth that he was halted by the stumbling grip of an iebriated yokai yanking him back by his shoulder. The patron's swaying form crumpled forward as they tried supporting their full weight on the hand that was still firmly locked on Donnie's shoulder.

"'Ey you.... I know you..." the strong stench of alcohol burned at the turtle's nostrils as he furrowed his brow in confusion, "Yer the guy from that brawl last night. Ya dropped my drink!"

Ah. Mistaken identity. Before Donnie could correct them, the yokai straightened in a menacing stance, lifting their hand's grip from him and balling into a fist.

"You... YOU! You owe me a new drink AND a new shirt! Ya ruined MY GOOD SHIRT!"

Ever the smug one, Donnie simply shook his head and with condescension dripped from his lazy grin.

"Perhaps laying off on the booze might help to improve your memory. You're clearly looking for a fight and I'm not one to hold back in battle." With a wave of his hand, he feigned a dramatic sigh, "But I'd reconsider what would be one too many bar fights. I mean, you've obviously done your brain enough damage."

What followed was the unmistakable and resounding thud of a body hitting the restaurant walls. The remaining brothers watched amusedly from their booth as the purple-coded brother peeled from the newly dented wall and collapsed onto the floor, dumbfounded and only mildly in pain.

"He'll be fine~" Leo mused as he caught sight of Y/N's horrified expression.

"He was kinda askin' for it..." Raph shrugged, unwilling to stop Y/N who was now stomping a warpath from the booth to the drunken offender.

"HEY, ASSHOLE!" were the only words uttered before Y/N's flurry of furious punches unleashed themselves onto the yokai's face. Donnie watched fondly as Y/N's strike after strike seemed to reduce the belligerent patron to a pathetic and unintelligable mess on the floor.

Something about her pose, the way her bruised fists were held up in triumphant victory as she loomed over the monster's unconscious form, seemed to pull at the deepest, darkest parts of the turtle's heart. Was she always this badass and cool? Was it the lighting? Was it the concussion setting in? Has she always looked this cute?

"Wow... You're incredible....." Donnie muttered under his breath with awe.

So much for science being his only love.

Leo:

honestly? the more chaos, the better

raph is great and all, but he always had the annoying tendency to boss everyone around, and his ever-growing worry chasm was really starting to irk leo

so it's great to have someone around that isn't always on his case about his stunts or lecture him on dull things like responsibility and duty and all

while he does take into account the fact that Y/N is a human, she's a special human with special priviliges in his mind; meaning open invites to every mission (no matter how dangerous) and her own front row seat to every single convoluted plan leo's made

he's always there to actively enable her loud habits, he just lives for the banter and drama; he calls it his very own telenovela

obviously he'd never let her get too far into it and when things start getting a little too real, he will try getting y/n to tone down the snark and deescalate the situation

can't have his new bestie getting herself into trouble after all! and he'd never hear the end of it from his brothers if she ever got hurt bc of his encouragement

as boring as he finds training to be, having y/n around really helps to spice things up. he's always calling dibs on having her for sparring partner duties and won't hold back much

on the rare occasion that he's not getting into trouble and causing mischief with y/n, he'll show her around all the best stargazing spots new york has to offer (via portal ofc)

no reason in particular, it's just nice getting to see the stars past the haze of the city's light pollution and it seems like something friends do

'it's totally normal for friends to stargaze alone together, right?'

yeah, no he's sure of it. he just really happens to enjoy y/n's company without the constant interruption of his brothers' teasing

it's not like he's asked her to go with him on a magic carpet ride or anything

oh wait...

right, there was that one time when they decided to stop by the mystic city antiques shop and try out the dubiously named "magic carpet" the shop was selling. how was he supposed to know it was a flying magic carpet?? magic could literally mean anything!

he didn't complain when y/n would hold onto him as they weaved through the skies of the hidden city. and it was cute watching her face scrunch up with laughter every time he made a joke

but that's just friends being friends, right??

'this better not be what being wrong feels like because it's not a great feeling at all'

"Alright, Leo. This'd better be good for you to be calling me up at 3 in the morning." April's voice hissed through the call, still rough with sleep and irritation as Leo had called her up on a school night of all times.

Leo gripped tightly at the phone as if it were his only line of defense from the terrible, terrible ordeal he was about to confide. "Apes, you gotta help me! I think I might be losing my edge or something."

"Your... what?"

"My edge!" Leo reiterated, panic set in his tone, "My mojo! The Leo-factor! I think I might be losing it and I don't know how to get it back!"

A few moments of soft shuffling sounding from the phone's receiver met Leo's frantic explanation. April must've been slowly forcing herself to sit up from where she'd been sleeping peacefully only minutes ago.

"... don't 've time for this..." was all that could be deciphered between shuffles.

The disgruntled girl could only sigh, "Okay. Leo. What makes you think you've 'lost your mojo'?"

Leo paused in thought, humming low as he tried to recall his recent mojo-related blunders.

"Okay, okay, so! You know how Y/N's been hanging around the lair a lot more lately? It's like every time she's there, I get thrown off my game. And I mean, I really get thrown off! With everything!"

"Mhm?" April deadpanned.

"None of my one-liners seem to land with her and it's because I keep forgetting how to talk mid-sentence! So I end up sounding like some stuttering moron! And I keep running into things and tripping over my own feet when I see her like I'm the clumsiest chump alive. And just the other night I was out testing the sickest tricks on Mikey's new board- don't let him know that by the way- when she shows up outta nowhere with her smug little smile and throws me off my moves! I mean, all I see is her eyes on me and the next thing I know, I've got a mouthful of gravel and concrete. It's like she's sapping all the cool out of me and I need it to stop like yesterday!" Leo had to take a moment to catch his breath as he explained his troubling situation, clearly unaware of just how clueless he was. April could only wait silently for the information to sink in, a sleepy scowl painted on her face. God, she could just strangle the boy if he were here.

"So you're telling me that you called me up in the middle of the night to tell me that you have a crush?" she hissed once again, the gritting of her teeth audible.

"A what? Crush? Oho, no no no no." the mutant scoffed in disbelief, "I'm telling you that Y/N could be a witch or some kind of energy vampire or something and we-"

"Leo, let me ask you something. What's more likely: The fact that Y/N is a mojo-sucking vampire witch or the fact that you may have some feelings for her?"

The thought hadn't really occured to him before. Could it really be something as simple as a crush that's doing him in? He had been feeling a little different as of late... But he just assumed it was all from the mutant witch powers Y/N might've been using on him. He took a few moments to contemplate, a dark blush gradually forming across his face the more he thought of Y/N.

Well, what's not to like about her? She's a certified badass, she's cool, she's never afraid to give it to ya straight. And underneath that tough exterior was an equally cool but much softer version that balanced out Leo's more impulsive and emotional side. Could it really be that Leo had feelings for Y/N?

".... Do you think Donnie can run a few tests to find out what kind of witch she is?"

"I'm hanging up now, Leo."

"NO, WAIT, I-" Dial tone.

Crush it is then. Man, did he hate being wrong.

Mikey:

ever the eternal optimist, mikey is never one to judge people and gives them every benefit of the doubt until he's forced to believe otherwise

so when he first meets y/n, he takes to her standoffish nature like bees on honey

instant besties right off the bat, even if they have their differences

he's quick to introduce y/n to everything mutant turtle life has to offer, whether it be inviting her over for a few rides on the half-pipe or introducing her to the cinematic magic that is jupiter jim and its many sequels

no matter what they do, he's always there to make sure she's having fun

mikey picks up on y/n's kinder side pretty quickly too

being emotionally intuitive and a self-proclaimed therapist, he is able to see through y/n's more abrasive personality and finds her gentler side to be just as exciting and fun, if not incredibly endearing

he'll even encourage her to be more open with that part of herself by insisting she join him in his little Dr. Feelings sessions he regularly holds for his brothers (totally not against their will)

during the whole session, he'll check in on y/n and ask if she has any thoughts on the matter

"what about you, y/n? you've been around us long enough to get a say. am i right or am i totally right?"

he knows he can trust her more blunt and forward nature to lay it down as it is

but he can also trust that she won't say anything to hurt them just for the sake of it

so she's a perfect fit for the role of Nurse Candid/Assisstant Tough Love

funny thing is, Dr. Feelings can't really talk mikey out of making a fool of himself in front of y/n

he tries not to be too clingy or push too many boundaries, but how can he resist?

she's like the highlight of his little adventures and he genuinely enjoys having her around all the time that he just *needs* to understand every part of what makes y/n her

together, they'd make the ultimate power couple!

er... power couple business-wise

purely professional in this unofficial practice

'unless.....'

time for the Love Doctor to pay mikey a little visit

"Candles? Check. Fancy silverware? Check. A deliciously decadent three course meal prepared by your truly? Check." Mikey took a moment to look over his fine work as he finished setting up a "platonic-but-can-be-romantic" dinner for Y/N. He'd been hard at work all week trying to come up with the perfect excuse to invite Y/N to the lair alone. It wasn't a date or anything! Well really, that was the trouble with this whole thing. It had to strike the right balance of friendly and intimate. With a hint of romance drizzled in. And a sprinkle of platonic fun. Gah, what a confusing mix.

Sighing thoughtfully, the young turtle set down the two artistically prepared culinary plates on the now satin-draped dining table that sat in the center of the projection room. Sure, it might've been a bit cliche but the quiet ambiance of the room was the best choice for a romantic candlelit dinner. Plus if the whole romance angle didn't pan out the way Mikey had hoped, a movie marathon would surely break the tension and shift gears into friendly hangout mode. Everything about this night had been planned to a T, down to the fact that his brothers were busy on another patrol that was sure to take all night.

The orange-clad mutant gave the setup another quick once over and, satisfied with his creation, glanced up at the clock that sat above the projector screen.

"7:18 and I still got a few precious moments to spare!"

"Spare for what?" a muffled voice asked from the door.

Oh no. What were they doing here?!

"Hey hey, little brother~ Nice setup you got goin' here. Very élégante~" Leo teased with his mouth full of pizza.

"L-LEO?! I THOUGHT YOU GUYS SAID YOU WERE GONNA BE OUT UNTIL MORNING!"

"Uh, yeah? The patrol was supposed to keep us 'til morning." Leo shrugged nonchalantly as he licked pizza sauce from his fingers,"But as it turns out, Donnie isn't the math wizard he seems to think he is."

"SCOFF! My mathematical genius is not to be held accountable for YOUR poor planning!" From behind Leo, Donnie stormed in with an incredulous look as pizza sauce drenched his face and upper body.

"Look, if anything, MY PLAN did not call for explosives. That was all you, buddy!" The twin retorted, poking at Donnie's sauce-covered chest with his trusty odachi. Mikey could feel his right eye twitching as he watched the two bicker and consequently ruin his plans.

He seethed through gritted teeth, "You guys were supposed to be gone..."

The strained response brought the two brothers' attention back to their youngest sibling, both raising a brow in question.

"Oh yeah, what IS with this setup?" Leo's cocky smirk did little to hide the teasing behind his question. Did he know?

"Oi, guys! We still gotta clea-" Raph stumbled in, wiping his body down with a red soaked towel as he was presumably the most sauced up of the three. "Woah. Whatcha got going on in here, Mikey?"

Great. Just what he needed. As he did his best to keep his composure, all Michael could do was groan and slump down to his knees, withering with embarrassment before his brothers. "If you guys MUST KNOW, I had a very special night planned for me! I was gonna have a nice dinner with Y/N before you came back and messed with m-"

"Woah woah woah, are you telling me that my baby hermano has a date tonight?"

The heat suddenly rushed to Mikey's cheeks, taunting him and exposing his true motives to his brothers of all people. Raph and Leo compounded that humiliation with their slew of 'aww's and coos. Donnie simply gave his little brother an approving nod and thumbs up as the duo's teasing continued.

"I-It's not what it looks like, I swear!"

Oh, it absolutely was.

"It's not that I like her, I just-"

Want her to be mine.

"I just needed to figure out how I feel!"

But he already knew. He was hopelessly in love.

223 notes · View notes

leiawritesstories · 3 months

Text

PART SIX: JUNE

Word count: 8.1k

Warnings: swearing, violence, breaking and entering, fuzzy science, scheming, flirting and more flirting, innuendo, a villain, more violence, blood, minor character death

shout out to @house-of-galathynius for beta reading this hot mess and to @backtobl4ck for encouraging frederick

I don't know if I should say this, but...enjoy!! 😁😈

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Moon Moon!” Aelin clapped her hands twice as she strolled past Fenrys, who lounged against the Boss’s office door like it was the most natural place for him to be. “Thanks for showing up.”

The blonde man shrugged, a half-smirk curling his lips. “Like I had a choice.”

“You always do.” She threw him Celaena’s sweet little grin that usually made people either piss themselves, cry, or start babbling. “You can choose to show up, or you can choose to die.”

“Not much of a choice, Boss,” he drawled. He flopped into the chair across from her desk. “So tell me, who’s the mark?”

Aelin tapped on her computer for a few minutes before she slid a single sheet of paper across the desk. “Have a good long look, Moon Moon, because this is the only time you’ll see all of this info in one place.” As the Boss, she was many things, and stupid was decidedly not one of them.

Fen picked up the paper, his dark eyes scanning each line of text and small, grainy photo. He cocked one blonde brow. “Rourke Farran, eh?” Not looking up from the paper, he huffed out a breath. “The man’s whole fuckin’ house is a booby trap, Boss.”

“I’m aware.”

“So what’s this bastard done to…god damn.” Before he could even ask the full question, it was answered. “He’s got a front for a front.”

“I have never tolerated, nor will I ever tolerate, the treatment of human beings like commodities,” Aelin said softly, lethally. Celaena Sardothien’s notorious steel undercut her tone. “Farran thinks he can get away with it because I haven’t come for him. Yet.”

Fenrys whistled lowly and set down the paper. “What’s your timeline, Boss?”

Aelin liked this man more and more with each interaction. “I need Farran at the river warehouse by the 10th. You can use whatever means necessary, beat him up a little, get him nice and ready for his session with me, but don’t even fucking think about killing him.”

“Don’t worry, Boss.” A lazy, hungry grin unfurled across Fen’s handsome face, the dim lamplight reflecting off the scars on his cheeks. “Softening up bad boys is my specialty.”

“That’s why I hired you.” Aelin took back the paper and tossed it into the shredder next to her desk, which ate through the single sheet with a brief mechanical grinding of teeth. She burned the shreds at the end of each day, never one to take any chances with documents that could potentially be stitched back together. Fenrys stood up to leave, and she waited until he was almost out the door before speaking again. “One more thing, Moon Moon.”

“Yeah?” He paused, alert, his stance striking an oddly familiar chord in her mind.

“Farran isn’t dumb enough to put all of his guard dogs in one place.”

He nodded slowly, working over that little tidbit of information. “Noted. I’ll tell you when he’s ready for you.” With a wink that was far too flirtatious for anyone’s good, Fen left her office.

Aelin rolled her eyes as she returned to her computer. Her encoded list of targets was shrinking by the week; really, there was only one name left after Rourke Farran received his one-way ticket to her riverside warehouse, and it called to her every day. Some days, it took all of her willpower to stick to her typical Boss hours and Galathynius hours when she knew that if she spent just one more hour as Boss, she could solidify the plans that she’d been simmering for so fucking long. Just before she slit his throat, she’d once murmured to a criminal that she was cleansing the world of villains. In the months since then, that cleansing had nearly been completed.

She slid her gaze down to the end of the page, following the trail of crimson lines that struck out each name up through Farran’s, and stopped, musing on the last name left. Five letters. One name—the villainous criminal was possibly more elusive than Celaena Sardothien herself.

Maeve.

On the one hand, it made complete sense that Arobynn’s lover—ex-lover—would have taken over his business, diminished as it was when all of his cronies started fighting over their pieces of the trade after Arobynn died. On the other hand, Aelin had wondered just why the hell Maeve would have wanted to take over Arobynn’s drug- and gun-running business; surely the money couldn’t be the only reason. The more she dug into the grimy, seedy backchannels of truth, though, the more she came to understand why Maeve had done it.

The woman had been madly in love with Arobynn Hamel, and now she was madly out for blood.

In the prep room of the Gal Inc. labs, Aelin snapped on a fresh pair of sterile blue latex gloves, checked her badge where it was clipped to her lab coat, and nodded at her reflection. It had been seven weeks since Ren had come into the labs to have his SecondSkin changed—she and Nehemia had decided to extend the wearing period to seven weeks, as Ren’s use of SecondSkin was an experiment—and she was curious to see if anything was different.

“About time,” Nehemia said dryly as Aelin walked into the small, sterile lab, the one that Nehemia typically reserved for experiments that needed to be kept quiet. “I was just about to assume you were in a meeting and start the removal process without you.”

“Hello to you too, Dr. Ytger,” Aelin returned, just as dryly. “I just had to primp a little longer, you know how much effort it takes to look this good.”

Nehemia snorted. “Galathynius, if you spent that much time primping, I’d never let you in my lab.”

“Don’t I know it.” Aelin sat down on the second rolling stool and scooted over to Ren’s side. “Okay, Nemi. It’s your experiment.”

Quickly but clearly, Nehemia ran through her usual list of removal instructions, then dismissed Ren to go take his shower. He emerged about half an hour later, wearing his robe, his hair damp and his face…

“Aelin, come here.” Nehemia motioned for Ren to sit down and scooted her stool up close so she could examine his ruddy face. “This doesn’t look like a typical hot-shower flush.”

Aelin scanned the redness on Ren’s face and nodded in agreement. “Allsbrook, does it itch?”

“Not on my face, no,” he answered.

“Are you itchy anywhere else?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Chest, elbows, upper arms, torso, knees, feet, most of my back, some other areas. It’s not bad, it’s more annoying, like when you have a mosquito bite that you want to scratch.”

“Would you please remove your robe so we can see if there’s anything visibly wrong with your skin?” Nehemia asked.

“One sec.” Ren hopped off the chair, went into the shower room, and came back out a moment later. “Just wanted to put my boxers on.” He took off his robe, hung it on the hook in the wall, and sat back down.

“Too much information, Allsbrook,” Aelin grumbled.

Nehemia ran her analytical gaze over Ren’s body, charting the red rash spread over the areas that he had said were itchy. It looked like an ordinary chafing rash, the skin irritated and slightly split in some places, and some of the redness faded, indicating that it was probably sensitive to the heat of the shower he had taken to remove the SecondSkin.

“Are you allergic to latex or any of its components?” Nehemia inquired.

“Not as far as I’m aware, no,” Ren said.

Nehemia hummed. “Ae, I have thoughts. What do you think?”

“Prolonged exposure?” Aelin asked. “It almost seems like what happens when you wear the same tightly fitting garment—like a leotard—for an extended period of time and it chafes.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking. It could also potentially be compounded by bacteria and dirt buildup under the material. It lays atop the skin, and as much as we want to claim that there’s no gap, we know there has to be a microscopic distance between the material and the wearer’s skin that could allow that to happen.” Nehemia gently touched two gloved fingers to the rash on Ren’s chest. “Does this hurt?”

“No.”

She pressed down. “Does it hurt when I do this?”

He shook his head. “No. Itches, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“That’s a good sign, at least.” Nehemia sighed. “Okay, Galathynius, we need to talk before we can decide how to move forward.” She beckoned Aelin towards the back of the room. “Should we go ahead with another application?” she asked, her voice lowered to a whisper.

Aelin pressed her lips together. “Well, we can’t exactly have him disappear while we try and work out the rash.”

“I don’t want it to spread or get any worse because it wasn’t treated, though,” Nehemia said. “I think we need to at least treat the rash.”

“Yes, I agree, but how will that work with another application?” Aelin’s brows furrowed. “And how should we treat the rash if we’re not fully certain of what it is and how it works?”

“We haven’t yet agreed to do another full application,” Nehemia reminded her, “and my instinct is saying to treat it like it’s a normal chafing rash—hydrocortisone cream, Benadryl, that kind of thing.”

Aelin nodded. “Okay, that sounds fine. How do you think we should apply the SecondSkin?”

“Hmm.” Nehemia tugged her lower lip between her teeth. “We could selectively apply it and avoid the rash areas. Theoretically, he’s not going to be stripping down in front of anyone for any reason, so he really only needs to have the right fingerprints and face, maybe footprints too. I vote we just apply the SecondSkin to his hands, face and neck, and feet.”

“I think we should apply it from hands up to elbows, just to be safe, but that sounds like a solid plan. Do we have hydrocortisone cream here?”

“Should be in the first aid bin.” Nehemia returned to Ren’s chair. “Okay, Allsbrook, here’s how we’re going to proceed. We’ll treat your rash and reapply the synthetic to your hands and lower arms, face and neck, and feet, which should hopefully give the rash time and breathing room to heal. You should apply this cream every day, as often as necessary, to the parts that are most itchy or inflamed.” She took the tube of hydrocortisone cream that Aelin handed her and applied it to Ren’s rash.

“Is this something I can find at the pharmacy?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s a common treatment,” Aelin replied. She walked over to the safe built into the far wall, keyed in the combination, opened the compartment, and retrieved a sleek steel canister from inside. She closed the compartment back up and brought the canister over to the prep table next to where Ren sat.

Nehemia took off her used gloves and replaced them with a fresh pair. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Ren confirmed.

Working in tandem, Aelin and Nehemia carefully laid the almost-invisible film of SecondSkin over Ren’s hands, forearms, face, and feet, carefully molding it to his skin. The pieces had all been prepped beforehand, since it took a significant amount of time to press fingerprints and other distinctive blemishes and markings into the synthetic material, and the SecondSkin molded to Ren’s skin flawlessly, leaving almost no evidence that it was there.

“Come back in two weeks,” Aelin instructed him as she disposed of her gloves. “We’ll want to see if your rash has improved, which will help us decide how to move forward.”

“Got it.” Ren went back into the bathroom, got dressed, and came back out as Chaol Westfall, contact lenses placed and bland grin on his face. “See you in two weeks, Dr. Ytger, Galathynius.” He left the lab.

“We should have seen this coming,” Nehemia groaned when Ren was gone, chucking her gloves into the trash bin. “Honestly, Ae, I feel like such an idiot.”

“Nemi, you are a genius,” Aelin reassured her. “You’ve been so busy with development and research, and we didn’t even know this could happen until we saw it today.”

“Yeah.” The chief engineer sighed. “I need to go chart all of this, and you probably have meetings or whatever shit you do in your big fancy office.” She smirked at Aelin.

Aelin rolled her eyes, nudging her friend in the shoulder. “I’d say something smartass, but I do have a meeting pretty soon. Let me know if anything comes up with Allsbrook, yeah?”

“Of course.” Nehemia waved and turned down a side hallway towards her office. Aelin headed back to the prep room, put her lab coat in the laundry basket, and collected her things before heading to her office and the inevitable day of meetings.

Two weeks later, Ren came back to the labs, his rash significantly improved. Nehemia removed and reapplied the SecondSkin in the same few areas and instructed him to keep treating the rash, as she didn’t want to move forward with full SecondSkin application until it had completely healed.

“It’s a good sign that the rash is healing,” she told Aelin over the phone later that day. “In theory, that means the SecondSkin could cause a rash from chafing, irritation, or prolonged use, but the rash can be treated like normal.”

“Definitely a good sign.” Aelin jotted down that note. “Hopefully, that means SecondSkin can be used for the wide audience we’ve been intending all along.”

“How much longer do you think this is going to be in development and testing?” Nehemia asked. “It’s been over two years, Ae. Shouldn’t this be about the time where we start to consider trial groups?”

“I’d say yes, but we’ve only just learned about the rash, and we’re not yet sure if the current formula won’t cause that rash.” Aelin was partially thinking out loud. “My gut says to wait until the Ren trial isn’t getting a rash, and then move into trial groups.” Which will give me more time to get rid of Maeve before she can make a move for the SecondSkin tech like Arobynn did, she added silently.

She was the only person who knew why Arobynn Hamel had died when he did—the former crime lord had taken one step too close to her highly guarded technology, and she’d had no choice but to retaliate. It was…not unexpected that Maeve would try to do the same.

Fenrys Moonbeam might very well be insane.

People had told him that frequently, ever since he was a reckless kid jumping off the playground structures at school, but he’d never had the thought himself until he was strolling into the Night Owl—a popular nightclub that was rumored to be the primary front of Maeve’s organization—in tight leather pants, a silver sequined jacket, and no shirt. Because rumor also had it that Maeve, the so-called Queen of the Night, had a…taste for handsome men, and he had it on good information that Rourke Farran was a frequent guest at the Night Owl.

He sauntered up to the bouncer with a lazy, easy grin sprawled across his face. “Hey.”

The bouncer, who could accurately be depicted as a concrete brick, stared flatly at him. “Invitation only, fancy boy.”

“I’m with Cadre,” Fen returned, sliding his hand into his jacket to retrieve a beautiful ivory card with purple script embossed across its fine surface. He waved the card at the bouncer. “And they’re expecting me in ten minutes, so it would be great if you’d let me get my pretty ass through the door.”

“Fuckin’ performers,” the bouncer muttered as he swung open the door.

“Thank you,” Fen crooned, blowing a kiss at the stone-faced man. The door slammed behind him, and he tucked the invitation—expertly forged by Celaena’s man Nox—back into his jacket and slipped into the crowd of dancing bodies. He winked and smirked his way through the crowd, letting the thumping beat of the music ease his rhythm, until he reached the bar.

Sure enough, Rourke Farran lounged on a barstool near the far end, one hand around a bottle of beer and the other around the waist of a blonde woman whose lipstick was littered all over his neck.

Fenrys muffled the snort he wanted to let out and waved over the bartender. “I’ll take a Sex on the Beach,” he purred, giving the guy, who was probably in his early twenties, a wink.

The bartender’s blush was faintly visible in the flashing strobe lights. “Want that extra strong?” His gaze flicked ever so quickly to Fen’s bare chest.

“Give it to me as-is, and then we’ll see.” Fen lowered his eyes to half-mast and watched the bartender make his drink. The other man threw the drink together effortlessly, sliding it across the bartop to Fenrys with a little smile of his own.

“I get off shift in an hour,” he said softly, dark blue eyes alight with hope and a little hesitancy.

“Good to know.” Fen took a long sip of his cocktail and nodded appreciatively. “Delicious.” In his periphery, he noticed Farran push the blonde out of his lap and stand up, swaying a little, and turn towards the dancefloor.

He brushed past Fen on his way over. “Get a fuckin’ room,” he slurred, his glassy-eyed gaze flicking once over Fen’s glittering jacket and tight pants. “Goddamn fancy boy.”

“I’ll be back.” Fen drained the rest of his drink, tossed a twenty on the bar, and rose, following Farran into the sea of dancing bodies. He kept a discreet distance from the man, far enough away to not be noticed but close enough to watch the man’s moves.

As he had suspected, Farran oozed sleaziness. What he was doing on the dancefloor barely passed for dancing; his gyrating hips and roaming hands were just barely short of outright having sex in public. He moved from girl to girl, changing partners as often as the music changed, leaving a good number of people giving him dirty looks for being too handsy. Fen snorted, knowing that the man probably deserved their scorn. Farran began to move towards the doors, and Fen slipped onto the dancefloor himself, moving fluidly through the crowd, keeping a constant eye on Farran’s steady, subtle escape route.

Time to move, Moonbeam.

Feeling a twinge of guilt for not staying to meet the cute bartender, Fenrys watched Farran leave the club and waited exactly a minute and a half before he headed out as well, putting enough unsteadiness in his step to indicate intoxication. Once he was out of the club, he glanced down the street in both directions and then went left. Even if he couldn’t track Farran, he knew where the bastard lived.

After a quick pit stop in an alley to swap out his flashy jacket for a closely fitted black knit turtleneck, Fenrys headed into the tidy grid of streets that made up western Orynth, taking a meandering route towards the tidy, wealthy neighborhood where Rourke Farran lived. The neighborhood was decked out with security cameras, as Celaena had warned him, so he looped around through the expansive back yards, slinking easily through the landscaped trees and plants until he came to the fence that marked the edge of Farran’s property. There weren’t cameras along the back fence, primarily because of the rotating patrol of guard dogs and security guards, so Fen swiftly scaled the fence and hopped into a tree.

He waited for the first round of patrols to pass before he carefully reached into the thigh pocket of his pants, withdrew a slim, vacuum-sealed package of meat, quietly cut open the plastic, and tossed the meat in a gentle arc directly onto the grass beside the paved walkway that wove around Farran’s house. A pair of guard dogs came barreling around the corner within sixty seconds, barking and growling and quickly discovering the meat. The second and third patrols weren’t far behind, and it was only a few minutes before all eight guard dogs were tearing apart the meat.

“The fuck is happening?” A security guard rounded the corner, breathless from sprinting. He saw the dogs calming down and settling back into their patrols after having finished the meat. “God. Which idiot dropped snacks everywhere?”

Another guard sprinted around the corner. “Everything okay?”

“One of you jackasses dropped the dogs’ snacks,” the first guard snapped.

The second one raised his hands in innocence. “I’m not the snack keeper tonight, dude.”

“Whatever. Just get your ass back to rounds.” The guards nudged the dogs back onto the path and headed away.

Mentally, Fenrys started counting minutes. He got to four, then five, then slowly and carefully slid down from the tree and darted across the lawn and onto the shadowed back porch. A moment later, he’d scaled the drainpipe leading up the side of the house and was perched on the balcony directly outside the master bedroom.

Wherein Rourke Farran was fully naked in front of his mirror, with his—

“Fucking hell,” Fen groaned to himself, shaking his head. “Disgusting.” But also enough of a distraction for him to slip down onto the balcony, pull a slender silver tube from his sleeve, raise it to his lips, and blow a tiny needle dart straight into the back of Farran’s neck.

Farran crumpled to the floor.

Good work, Moonbeam, Fenrys complimented himself. Now you just have to get the asshole out of his booby-trap house and over to the river warehouse.

Easy.

Right?

“He’s all yours, Boss,” Fenrys drawled as Aelin strolled past on the way out of the storage warehouse.

She glanced at her smart watch. “It’s only the eleventh, Moon Moon. That was quick.”

He shrugged, irreverent as always. “What can I say? I like to work fast.”

“Hopefully not all the time.” She smirked wickedly. “Your bartender boyfriend might be disappointed.”

Fenrys flushed a delightful shade of pink. “How the fuck—”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered, Moon Moon.” She winked wickedly at him. “How’s our special guest doing? Is he adjusted to his new home?”

“It took him some time to get used to the room,” Fen returned, casually pulling a set of brass knuckles from a pocket of his cargo pants and spinning them over his fist.

Aelin chuckled, soft and lethal. “Not surprising. Thanks, Fen.” She paused just in front of the side door, her gloved knuckles resting on the doorknob. “Oh, Moon Moon?”

“Yeah?” He froze, his posture still as a…soldier’s.

“I’ll need you for cleanup on the twenty-seventh.”

He nodded. “Got it, Boss.”

Aelin keyed in the door code and left the warehouse, satisfied that she had set the wheels of her plan in motion. While she trusted Con’s assessment of his brother, she wasn’t fully convinced that she could completely trust anyone on her payroll, and Fen’s easy charm masked a cold, heartless willingness to carry out whatever depraved task she demanded of him. Furthermore, that stance of his—the utter stillness of his posture when someone ordered him to stop—had been pricking at her memory for days, and she’d only just realized why.

Fenrys stood like a soldier. More than that—he stood like one of her uncle’s men, one of the Terrasen Special Forces.

And Aelin knew the day one of Gav’s men got into Celaena Sardothien’s business would be the day her double identity began to crumble. Even if she wanted to trust Fenrys, she had to confirm for herself that she could, and that meant giving him a fake kill date in case he needed to report back to someone in the military.

If he did, if he turned out to be a spy, then the TSF would come sniffing around for Rourke Farran when it was already weeks too late.

Aelin laced her fingers with Rowan’s as they strolled through the fancy restaurant’s glass front doors, something settling deep in her chest at the simple, casual intimacy of holding his hand. Her mind had been running in overdrive for the last two weeks, and even now, with ten days left in the month, she hadn’t been able to slow the constant dizzying whirl of her thoughts.

Rowan was one of the only people who’d brought her a glimpse of peace recently, in the few scattered dates they’d been able to snatch between both of their busy schedules. He flicked her a tiny, secret smile, one that only she ever saw, before approaching the hostess stand with the same confidence that cloaked him when he was in his investigator clothes and badge. And dear god, the things that confidence did to her already throbbing pussy—she was half tempted to slip off her panties and sneak them to him under the table.

But she was a mature woman, so she wouldn’t.

“Whitethorn, party of two, seven-thirty reservation,” Rowan said to the hostess.

The young woman—probably a college student, if Aelin’s guess was correct—tapped a few things into her tablet. “Your table is ready, Mr. Whitethorn. Please, this way.” She led Rowan and Aelin through the low-lit restaurant towards the far wall of windows. Through the glass was a breathtaking view of Orynth, the city cast in shades of bronze as the sun began to drift downwards.

“Gorgeous,” Aelin murmured, captivated by the view.

Rowan’s thumb brushed across the back of her hand. “Not half as much as you.”

She blushed. “You’re quite the flirt, you—oh!” Unexpectedly, a man’s shoulder brushed hers as they wove through the restaurant floor. She looked up to find none other than Police Captain Chaol Westfall, wearing a nice suit and a mildly shocked expression.

“M–Miss Galathynius,” he finally managed, clearing his throat. “And, ah, Lieutenant Whitethorn. I…I apologize for running into you.”

“Westfall, what are you doing here?” Rowan inquired, polite on the surface but with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

“Considering we aren’t at work, it’s none of your business, White-horn, but I was at dinner with a friend of mine,” Chaol shot back. There was definite animosity underlying his words.

Rowan raised a brow. “You…have friends?”

“Ah, lighten up, darling,” Aelin interjected before either man could resort to fists. “We don’t all live at our workplace, as we seem to have discovered. And Ro, darling, we’ve left that poor hostess floundering.” She wrapped her hand around his arm and tugged him towards their table.

He shot Chaol one last suspicious look. Chaol returned the look, but broke the stare-off to nod respectfully at Aelin as she passed. “Ms. Galathynius.”

When they reached their table, Rowan pulled out Aelin’s chair before seating himself across from her. Questions brewed in the shifting of his eyes. “Question, Ae—do you know Westfall? How?”

“That was two questions,” she teased. “Yes, I’ve met Captain Westfall before. It’s all part of the business; I’ve met just about every notable figure in Orynth at some function or another. I probably met the police captain at some kind of gala.”

Rowan nodded slowly, digesting the information. “That makes sense. All those faces probably run together after long enough, yeah?”

“I try to keep them separate, but yeah.” She flashed him a sheepish grin. “There’s only so many names and faces you can memorize before they all start to appear the same.”

“Why, Miss Galathynius,” Rowan drawled, his face alight with mischief, “are you implying that there are too many men in suits in this fine city?”

She shrugged, meeting the gleam of his humor with her own dry wit. “I’m simply observing that if a few less of them were to bother me at every function I attend, my mind would be clearer.”

“I thought you had a mind like a steel trap, love.” Raising a brow, he sipped his water.

“It sometimes takes a moment to pull out a name from the file cabinet,” she returned. “And—oh look, here comes our server.” Their server, a sandy-blonde-haired man in his late twenties wearing the restaurant staff’s uniform of white shirt, black trousers, and maroon tie, wore a pleasant (if tired) smile as he pulled his notepad from his apron pocket.

“Good evening,” he said cheerfully. “My name is James, and I’ll be your server tonight. Would you like to hear about our specials this evening?”

Aelin glanced at Rowan, whose eyes had visibly narrowed as he scanned the server. The look was so blatantly male, she almost rolled her eyes, but her possessive buzzard relaxed when he saw the silver wedding band adorning the server’s left ring finger. “I actually think we’re ready to order, if that’s alright?”

James the server just about melted to the floor in relief. “Are you serious?” he asked, lowering his voice to an incredulous whisper. “I—I haven’t had a single easy table tonight, and it’s the last two hours of a double and—I’m so sorry, that was completely unprofessional of me.”

Aelin chuckled. “Don’t worry, James, was it? Customer service is a rough job.”

“Tell me about it,” the man grumbled.

Rowan shot Aelin a confused look. “Ae, love, I haven’t even looked at the menu.”

“Do you trust me, love?” she asked.

He pursed his lips, not quite used to letting someone else order his food. “All right.”

“Perfect.” She blew him a subtle kiss. “Okay, James, is it alright if I give you our order a few steps away?” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, keeping it still loud enough for Rowan to hear. “I want to surprise my boyfriend; I’ve been here more than once but he hasn’t ever been.”

“Of course.” James smiled, a genuine one this time. “I brought my wife here once when we were dating—took half my paycheck, but it was worth it.” He stepped aside a few paces and Aelin followed, quietly giving her and Rowan’s order. The server’s pen flew over his page.

“And say hi to Chef Emrys for me, would you?” she concluded.

“You…you know the head chef?”

“Bit of a long story, but yes. Tell him Aelin Galathynius says hi, please. Thanks!” She came back to the table and slipped into her seat, leaving the very nice but very shocked server to collect his wits after realizing just who he was talking to and go to place the order.

“Poor guy looks like he just got hit by a truck,” Rowan observed, smothering a laugh.

Aelin smirked. “I may or may not have given him my full name.”

“Ah, the name drop.” He nodded sagely. “Just what every famous CEO has to do to the poor server who got their table.”

“You’ve got quite a mouth for a soldier, you know,” Aelin mused, her words slowing to a near- seductive pace. “A respectable man would never insinuate that his date uses her job title for perks.”

“I never said I was respectable.” Lazily, his gaze roamed down her upper body, admiring the way her little black dress scooped beneath her collarbones, accentuating the gleam of the single small teardrop diamond pendant that nestled in the hollow of her throat.

James came by with two glasses of white wine and an appetizer platter with two sharing plates, breaking the dangerous haze of the moment, and Aelin thanked the server as he headed off, no doubt to take care of his other tables.

Rowan’s jaw slacked just a bit at the sight of the cured meat and prawns arranged on the plate. “Please tell me you didn’t order the most expensive things on the menu, Ae.”

“Of course not.” She reached across the table and linked her hands with his, the gesture as natural as breathing. “I got us an appetizer to share, a first course, a meat course, and a dessert, and I’m not the kind of person who orders expensive items just to flash her money around.”

He breathed out a deep, controlled exhale. “I know, love. It’s just…” His thumb rubbed across her knuckles. “I’m not used to any of this—the fancy restaurants, the fancy food, the way people don’t bat an eye at spending thirty dollars for some toast.”

She cracked a grin at that. “Let me introduce you to the fine, fine work of Chef Emrys, then. I actually used to work for him, way back when I was eighteen and my parents decided I needed to experience real-people jobs.”

“Way back when,” he drawled, teasing her.

“Hush, old man,” she teased right back, plating up a sampling of the appetizer plate and sliding it over to him. “I know I’m only twenty-seven, but my stint as a hostess feels like forever ago.”

“Kind of like how basic training feels like forever ago for me.” Rowan agreed. He bit into one of the cured prawns and nearly moaned, his eyes closing in joy. “God, this is incredible.”

She beamed. “Wait until you taste Chef Emrys’s filet mignon, Ro.”

The conversation flowed freely between them after that, only interrupted by the arrival of new food and wine. A mushroom and herb risotto accompanied by an aged Riesling. The promised filet mignon, which almost made Rowan cry with joy, and a spectacular six-year Merlot. And finally, individual blackberry cobblers, the berries ripe and fresh and perfectly sweet-tart, paired with the restaurant’s signature Cabernet.

“I don’t think I can move,” Rowan sighed as he set down his last empty wineglass. “But it was absolutely worth every bite.”

“I think I’m going to dream of this cobbler,” Aelin added, regretfully nudging her empty dish towards the end of the table. “Tell me when you’re ready to leave, yes?”

“Gonna need three to five business days,” he mumbled.

Her laughter rippled across their low-lit table. “I love when you let that humor of yours loose.”

A different kind of hunger flickered in his forest eyes. “And I love when I have you all to myself.”

“Possessive much?”

He just shrugged. “Call me whatever you want, love, but we both know you only come for me.”

Flames flickered through her blood at the deep, sinful timbre of his voice. “That’s only because I haven’t introduced you to my drawer full of battery-powered boyfriends.”

The banked embers simmering in his expression flared into a bonfire, and he sat upright and beckoned their server over. “Suddenly, I’m ready to go home.”

James was at their table within two minutes. “How was everything for you tonight? Can I get you anything else?”

“It was absolutely mind-blowing, as always,” Aelin said. “And no, I think we’ll just take the check.” Covertly, she slipped James her credit card, and he gave her a small nod as he went over to the server computer to process the payment.

“Don’t think I didn’t hear you,” Rowan murmured, the velvet caress of his voice stroking down her spine. “Mind-blowing, Ae?”

“Would you happen to know anything about that?” she asked, innocently.

In response, he trailed a brazen stare down her figure. “Seems like you need a refresher.” He stood up far too smoothly for someone who had just finished his fourth glass of wine, gave her his hand for stability as she rose, and then rested that hand against the small of her back, his touch burning through her dress.

Their server returned with a check folder in his hand and passed it over to Aelin, who glanced over the receipts, signed her name, and tucked her credit card and her copy of the receipt back into her small handbag. “Thanks, James.”

“Ah, thank you, Ms. Galathynius, Mr. Whitethorn. You might have been the best table I’ve had all day.” He tucked the folder into his apron pocket with a wry grin. “Have a good one!”

“If it’s good, it won’t be just one,” Rowan whispered into Aelin’s ear.

A shiver danced down her neck. “Is that a promise, Lieutenant?”

He held the door open for her as they left the restaurant. “Ask me again when you’re begging for my cock, love.”

Ren Allsbrook, alias Chaol Westfall, was expecting Whitethorn’s visit, but the man’s presence in his office still gave him an oddly unsettled feeling.

He pasted a bland, blasé expression onto his face. “Yes, Whitethorn?”

Rowan dropped into the chair opposite Ren’s, regarding him with a piercing look that almost seemed to pierce beneath the layer of SecondSkin cloaking his true identity. “How the hell do you know Aelin, Westfall?”

Ren shrugged. “We met at some city leader event a while back. Some big thing the mayor hosted so the big names of Orynth could pretend to be civil to each other.”

“Yeah? How long ago was that?”

Fucking think, Allsbrook. Chaol Westfall had been the police captain for about three years, Ren had taken over as Chaol six months ago in January, and the mayor’s Leaders Gala was always held in…the fall…“Last October, I believe. You’ll have to give me a little grace on the estimate, since I was damn busy with actual work.”

“Cute of you to think you can get away with sneering at me from your soapbox, Westfall,” Whitethorn said dryly. “Well, I checked the dates, and the mayor always holds his little party in October, so I’ll buy your story.”

“My story, huh? When did you get so desperate for leads that you started accusing coworkers, Whitethorn?”

“Shut up,” Rowan grunted. “I’m just making sure you haven’t been doing anything shady with my girlfriend, jackass.”

“Ooooooh, we’re using official terms now?” Ren couldn’t resist the urge to press Whitethorn’s buttons. “I thought you were allergic to that kind of commitment.”

“I wouldn’t get smart-mouthed with me, Westfailure,” Rowan grumbled. “I’ve seen you going to the Galathynius labs. What the hell are you doing there?”

Ren muffled a rather creative string of curses. “Whitethorn, I know you’re terse, but what the hell was that subject change? Give me some goddamn context, for shit’s sake.”

“Fine.” Rowan pulled up some security camera footage on his tablet. “This is a record of the feed from the Galathynius, Inc. lab complex’s security cameras, and before you open your mouth, I have clearance. Two and a half weeks ago, on June 4th, you went to the labs. You went again yesterday.” He tapped on the video, and the footage played, clearly showing Chaol walk into the labs and walk back out after a period of fast-forwarding through nothing.

“Well.” Think, you fucking idiot! “Since we are currently quietly investigating a connection between Galathynius, Incorporated, and the, uh, Shadow Killer—”

“Shadow Assassin,” Rowan corrected.

“Whatever. That person. You think there’s a connection, and I’m pursuing it. I happen to know a scientist who works in the Galathynius labs, and I set up a couple of meetings to speak with her.” Ren folded his arms across his chest. Buy the story, Whitethorn.

Whitethorn frowned. “Why didn’t I hear about these meetings?”

“Because I was being discreet, duh.” Ren poured a heavy dose of sarcasm into the last word.

Rowan grumbled something that sounded like a string of cussing. “I didn’t get sent to this investigation for the laugh track, Westfall.” He stood up and left the office, carelessly banging the door shut behind him.

“Jackass,” Ren grumbled. He turned back to the endless slog of paperwork and files he had to get through, because the job of police captain came with a lifetime supply of that shit. Against all beliefs, he’d actually come to enjoy this job, this role, and he was just as invested in the case as Whitethorn was.

He just happened to be on a different side.

This is fucking insane, this is fucking insane, this is fucking insane. Those were the words running through Fenrys’s head as he and his twin strolled down the secret back stars of the Night Owl. He was barely able to focus on the opulence of the hallway—plush velvet lining the walls, fine mahogany banisters, and black wall torches and overhead lights giving the whole space a deep purple glow—when his mind was so focused on what lay at the end of the walk.

“Relax,” Con muttered. “Don’t get us fucking killed before we’ve found out what she wants.”

“I’m trying,” Fen grumbled. He straightened the lapels of his jacket, the same sequined one he’d worn to the Night Owl three weeks ago. “But—”

“But nothing.” Con cut him off. “Remember why we’re here.”

“Right.” Because Celaena had trusted the two of them with infiltrating Maeve’s lair. Because they were the key to taking down the last obstacle in Boss Sardothien’s path, whatever the hell it was.

The masked guard in front of the twins stopped at a dark wooden door at the end of the hall. “Wait here,” he said, expressionless. He went into the room, closed the door behind him, and came out a few minutes later just as expressionless. “Maeve will see you now.” And he opened the door.

Fenrys took a quick, deep breath and strolled into the dark-paneled office, Con at his side, both of their gazes immediately locking onto the woman who sat behind the imposing black marble desk at the far end of the room. Her face was pale, nearly opalescent in the darkness, her lips were stained scarlet, and her unnervingly violet gaze was fixed on the twins.

“Thank you for being willing to meet on such short notice, boys,” Maeve said, her calm, cold voice slicing through the room like a blade.

“Our honor,” Fen replied. Maeve gestured at the pair of leather chairs opposite her desk, and the twins sat down.

She steepled her fingers under her chin. “I have a job for you.”

Con shared a loaded look with Fen. “Both of us, or just one?”

“Both of you. I need one of you for each side of the job.”

Slowly, Fen nodded. “Alright. What can we do for you?”

One corner of Maeve’s scarlet lips curled upwards. She retrieved a thin manila file from her desk and slid it across the desktop. “Fenrys, kill this man.” The order was as clearly and casually enunciated as if she was asking for a glass of water. “Connall, you will stay here to monitor Fenrys’s task.”

Beside Fenrys, Con’s posture stiffened. “How?”

“We have an advanced tech space that will provide all the equipment you need, as well as the chance to experiment with some of the devices we’re working on.” A gleam flickered briefly through the Queen of the Night’s unflinching stare. “And I require company.”

“Alright.” Con dipped his head in acquiescence, flatly refusing to meet the sharp, concerned gaze Fen shot towards him.

“Excellent.” Maeve smiled, and it sent a shiver down Fenrys’s spine. “You may go, Fenrys. I expect it won’t take you too long to get the job done.”

“I pride myself on efficiency,” he smirked, masking the oily chill in his blood with a lazy, half-wild grin. He rose, nodded at Maeve, and strolled out of the room and then out of the club, his steps sure and unfaltering until he was around the corner and out of sight.

Then, he ducked into a side alley and slumped against the wall, his veneer of easy confidence dropping to reveal his hidden terror. Fuck! He’d left his brother in that spider’s lair; gods only knew what could happen if either of them failed to do what Maeve commanded. Hands shaking, Fenrys reached into the hidden inner pockets of his jacket, his fingers closing around the comfortingly cold steel of his favorite twin flat knives and the envelope containing the thick piece of cardstock that had been in the file. The least he could do—for himself, for Connall, and for the man he had to kill—was carry out his task quickly, before the Queen of the Night could hurt his brother.

And so, heart heavy, Fenrys Moonbeam adjusted his jacket and the weapons contained within it and began his prowl towards Orynth Police headquarters.

Rowan arrived at Orynth PD unusually early on the morning of June 30. After a restless night—he’d tossed and turned far into the wee hours of the morning, snatched probably three solid hours of sleep, and had a muddled collection of dream snippets—he’d just decided to bite the bullet and drag his ass out of bed at five in the morning. Shortly before six, he keyed in his code at the door of the police station, let himself into the quiet, chilly building, and dragged himself to the locker room to dump his bag and splash some icy water on his face. With his vest strapped on and his badge around his arm, he grabbed his laptop bag and trudged up the stairs to the offices, ducking into his office to drop off his things and try to form a to-do list.

Fuck, he needed caffeine. He needed it badly enough that he’d even drink the bitter shit from the common-room carafe. So he pushed his chair in, left his office, and went down to the bullpen, following the faint scent of the first batch of coffee. Operating on autopilot, he was halfway to the break room before he smelled it.

Blood.

That coppery tang was unmistakable.

Fuck.

Coffee forgotten, Rowan whirled around and strode back to the bullpen, following his nose like some kind of hound. A bloodhound, whispered the traitorous part of his mind that sounded an awful lot like Aelin’s witty laugh. In any other context, he might have laughed along. But not this time. Head down, he tracked the metallic stench of blood across the bullpen, its tang growing heavier with each successive step he took. The blood, wherever it was, was still fresh enough to be that strong, but old enough to have spread its scent through a significant part of the floor. Both of those things worried him. A lot.

Hand straying to his holster, Rowan rounded the corner towards the cluster of desks where the detectives and Westfall worked whenever Westfall was in the bullpen. He inhaled, catching a lungful of blood-scent, so strong it nearly knocked him back. That part of the floor was still shadowed in the early-morning dimness, so he flicked on the nearest light for a better visual.

The flashlight in his hand clattered to the floor. His other hand clenched around the cold, smooth handle of his gun.

He’d found the source of the blood stench.

He blinked. Shook his head. He snapped his jaw shut, swore at himself a few times, imagined Gav yelling at him for losing his mind like a goddamn fucking green idiot, and took one step forwards.

He froze.

Sprawled facedown in a pool of his own blood, the back of his skull concave as if bashed in with a heavy, blunt object, with a bullet hole ripped through his temple and knives pinning his now-limp hands to the desk, was Chaol Westfall.

Rowan locked up the side of himself that immediately started screaming questions and approached Chaol’s…corpse…carefully, forcing the investigative side of himself to take the lead. He cautiously nudged Westfall with his baton, noting the lack of response. With that amount of blood loss, he’d be more shocked if the man was alive, but he still had to go through the steps. As much as he could, Rowan circled the body, clocking each new wound he found on the man’s body. It was…more brutal than he had initially noticed, slashes and cuts scattered over the body, as well as the knives stabbed through the hands and the obvious point-blank range of the bullet, marked by its entry and exit wounds.

As he came to the other side, Rowan stopped once again, because there was a goddamned note tacked to Westfall’s forehead. No—nailed to his forehead.

Fuck.

He pulled on the pair of latex gloves he kept tucked into his belt and gingerly reached for the note, lifting it up enough to read it. He didn’t remove it; he was too experienced to fuck with a crime scene like that. He did, however, lift up the paper, which was surprisingly thick and high-quality for a fucking assassin signoff. Three words were printed onto the note in dark ink. He tilted the paper slightly, and the black ink shimmered with a dark purple sheen, indicative both of its quality and probably of the signature colors of whoever the hell had written the message.

Tread carefully, Lieutenant.

There was no signature. There was, however, a symbol stamped beneath the short, threatening message. Rowan peered at the stamp, sharp gaze scanning it until the shape came into focus. It was an almost photographic image of an owl, the bird posed in eerie stillness, its inked eyes large and unblinking. And atop the owl’s head sat a crown, a perfect arc of five jeweled spikes.

It was the mark of the Queen of the Night.

~~~

TAGS: please let me know if you want to be added/removed :)

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#my writing #until proven guilty #criminal/investigator au #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass au #throne of glass fanfiction #tw: big bad villain hehe #tw: violence #tw: fighting #tw: blood #tw: minor character death

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prisma-heart · 6 months

Text

Ice vs Machine

Hello I'm quite new posting my writing content here so yeah, you may see some grammatical errors

[ Hero vs Villain ] Gender Neutral

Caution :

The story might not good, I'll redo it nextime...

Beating, In a verge of passing out

The sound of the machine clanking can be heard all over the city, citizens are scattered and screaming while Villain causes a lot of property damage using their giant laser powered by their electricity coursing through the machine.

Once Villain is done clearing the path 'it means by destroying the buildings that "blocks" the path, leading to the Superhero's Headquarters.

the machine begins to move forward, with each of its four legs stomping, the ground vibrates.

But a sudden obstacle blocked Villain's path, that obstacle is Hero, Hero showed up to stop Villain's evil scheme

"Villain stop this destruction! You're going to hurt a lot of civilians!"

Villain hums "it doesn't seem like civilians are getting caught in my laser, even before I hit them they already ran!"

Hero forms an icicles in the air and started casting it towards the tip of the of the machine which is were the laser forms, but before Hero's icicles hit the Villain's machine, the machine shoots it's lasers and melts through some of Hero Icicles, Hero dodges the lasers.

They form another multiple icicles, with each creation continuously heads towards Villain's machine, upon contact the machine slowly starts to freeze, even with this the Villain isn't fazed and they started to course their electricity directly into the core and the machine started to heat up causing the freezing areas to warm up and melts the ice but it did leave some of those areas dented which when Villain notices, it irritates them a little bit causing them to put a little more effort to stop Hero.

Villain started to blast barrage of lasers to Hero where it made Hero break their fighting stance and started moving to avoid the lasers, they tried to find the right time to cast icicles to Villain but it seems they wouldn't stop shooting at them anytime soon.

While running, Hero forms a single icicle that is bigger than their previous icicles and casted it towards where the core of the should be.

Villain didn't have time to melt the incoming icicle so instead they ducked and expected their machine to break, but with the hero running the icicle didn't manage to hit the core since it made a curve turn and hits in a different spot.

Villain open their eyes and darted around to see what are the damages only to find that the side of the machine's content is exposed, it starts to overheat until a huge bright, dome like explosion burst from the machine and engulps Villain, their machine and Hero.

When they both come to their senses, they realize that they are not in the city anymore, Instead, it must have teleported somewhere in the green grass plains just outside the city, with the forest surrounding it, Villain never thought the machine could do that

Villain suddenly heard a faint hiss coming from the machine, it's shaking uncontrollably until it finally collapsed due to extreme damages. Villain jumped out of the way to avoid being buried alive, They now is fueled by anger.

"HERO! What have you done!? Do you have any idea how hard I worked just to make this machine up and running!?"

"Well as a hero it's my job to stop you causing harm to innocent civilians and the city!"

Villain doesn't seem to be paying attention to Hero's speech and started to head towards to Hero with their hands surrounded by electricity

"YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS! HERO!"

Villain lunges at Hero with their electrified fists, Hero swiftly dodges every punches thrown at them, Hero started to freeze the ground which caused villain to back away a few distance apart from Hero, with the ground being frozen and slippery Villain can't break their distance to Hero without slipping so instead Villain started to cast electric thistles at Hero, Hero was caught off guard they never expected Villain can fight at long range, with this Hero was caught from one of Villain's electric thistles and fallen to the ground hard gasping for some air, clutching themselves to ease the pain.

With Hero no longer supports their ice magic the ground that was frozen melts, Villain takes a step forward to hero, with a loud groan Hero tries to stand up only to be pushed back in place by Villain's boot pinning them on their back, Villain gives them another shock and Hero's screams echoes throughout the field, with a grin on their face they raise their hand with electrified fist ready to strike Hero.

"Any Last Words Hero?"

Hero can barely speak with Villain pinning them on their back, air barely enters their lungs, all they can do is gasping for air.

"Hmph, it seems like you don't have one, Oh well so long Hero——

With the sound of a metal shuffling, a piece of metal emerges from the rubles of what was once Villain's machine launches towards them, their sentence was cut short, Villain's body slumped down, unconscious, Hero tries to look at their savior, or at least they thought someone is saving them but with a lack of oxygen earlier their vision is quite blurry plus with a throbbing headache.

They can hear someone approaching, Hero attempts to stand up again but the pain is too much to bear that they collapsed on the ground, they hear a voice calling out to them, they sounded worried but Hero couldn't interpret a single word of what they said until they felt an arms wrapped around them and positioned them where Hero's head rests on someone's chest and mumbling something...

"It's okay hero, they won't hurt you anymore" they cooed, Hero attempts to open their eyes, the person smiled at them.. with the familiar mask on their face.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Hero - Ice

Villain - Electric

[Name not mentioned] - Telekinesis

( Originally there will be an art/illustration for this, but... I haven't decided on this particular Hero's and Villain's design )

#my writing #writing community #writer on tumblr #hero #villain #hero vs villain #hero and villain #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #heroes and villains community #villain x hero

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astridthevalkyrie · 9 months

Text

chand ko chakor dekhe, tujkho naseebo wala (the bird looks at the moon, a lucky one looks at you) | hawks x reader | chapter 5

“You’ve died twice? From clocks? “I know you’re not blind to the rocks and debris flying literally everywhere! The world would be better off without you in it!” you scream at the villain. The machine is even louder as it breaks and jams into the ground. “Flying building pieces or something, I don’t know—one hit me yesterday. The first day I got knocked into a wall, and then I woke up hugging my body pillow. Same thing the next day. And the next, and the next. Did my number three pro hero partner save me? No, he let me get stuck in a fucking time loop!” Or, you’ll do a lot of things with infinite time on your hands, but falling in love with Keigo Takami isn’t one of them.

a/n: hey

warnings: hawks being an endeavor fanboy, fourth wall breakage sorta, shorter chapter because i’m lazy, death but at this point you know that, implied daddy kink, invasive thoughts make reader lick just a taste of her own blood

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Burning alive is, without a doubt, the most painful way to die.

—————————————————

“Do you have to kill Endeavor?” Hawks whines.

“Why the fuck would I skip him?” You roll your eyes as far as your eyes can roll (how much roll can an eyeroll roll if an eyeroll could roll eye aaaand now neither of them sound like real words). “Besides, he has a bad attitude. He needs to be knocked down a peg or two.”

Besides, as far as he knows, you’re not skipping anyone. No, you’re not going to tell Hawks that you haven’t actually killed him, because you’re not about to admit that shit publicly to anyone, least of all the spared victim himself. It’s not like you’re taking a break day! The second you’d decided to spare birdbrain, you’d immediately started drafting up plans to take down the number two. And yes, by drafting up plans, you mean seeing how many cheese puffs you can stuff into your mouth while thinking about whether or not it was a viable option to just rip that dumb fucking fire mustache from his face and then put him in the ground while he writhes in embarrassment.

“Think you’re just mad he beat you so quick.” He slouches in his seat, crossing his arms like the child he is. You wrinkle your nose. Fanboy Hawks is, without a doubt, your least favorite version. There’s a few different Hawks, you’ve learned both during this nightmare and before it. There’s Hero Hawks, focused, careful, incredibly precise and incredibly dangerous, who can take anyone out in a matter of seconds. He’s not to be confused with Celebrity Hawks, who is a dumb bitch.

Then there’s Foodie Hawks notasgoatedasChefHawks (seriously. when the man wants to cook he COOKS), Twenty-Two Year Old Hawks who does flips off buildings or whatever the fuck, Good Friend™ Hawks who likes karaoke and fried chicken and dancing terribly, Regrettably Sexy Hawks with his pornworthy voice and slutty muscles, and you’re sure somewhere in there is Real Hawks, whose name probably isn’t even Hawks, but that’s a mystery you don’t care about enough to uncover.

And Fanboy Hawks. A pain in the ass.

“I’m not mad,” you correct, not gently, “I’m determined to make him experience every single level of hell he made me feel. Seriously, how is it legal for him to use his quirk? Firepower is destructive, and heroes don’t kill.”

Hawks gives you the most unimpressed look you’ve ever seen on him.

“Heroes that think the dead bodies will actually stay dead don’t kill. Shitbrain.”

“You never know,” he hums, wiggling his eyebrows at you. What the fuck is up with those brows? Why do they split off at the ends like that—OHHHH, LIKE WINGS. That makes sense. But it doesn’t really. Like, the man’s a bird, that doesn’t mean each individual body part is a bird, does it? Maybe if you take his shirt off (youhaveseenhimshirtlessbeforesuckitbitches🤪) his stomach will like…kakaw kakaw at you? What the fuck. “Maybe one of these days you don’t reset, and you have the best hero of our generation’s blood on your hands while you rot away in a cell.”

“He’s not our generation’s anything, dickrider. And even if we were fugly with wrinkles, the best hero would be All Might.”

“Endeavor isn’t fugly!” Hawks cries. This is definitely deep rooted. Deeeeep rooted. Daddy issues. He practically screams daddy issues. And mommy issues. Issues in general, parental or otherwise. “He’s hot. Pun intended. And All Might is so…” Both his arms go up high, as though he couldn’t just say the word ‘tall.’

You beckon for him to go on. “Hot? Sexy? Fuckable?”

“Dad.”

“Daddy.”

“Ooh.” He grins. “Don’t say that, I might like it.”

You throw a french fry at him.

—————————————————

Endeavor’s hands are large. Large large. Super large. Ginormous, embiggen, elongate. You get the picture. (You, the reader, not you the self insert. But it’s you, you, who is talking to you. Nice to meet u, you, sincerely you. How’s that for fuckery).

Without breaking a single sweat, he’s able to grab you by the face and swing you halfway across the city, and even the wind can’t stop you with the force of his throw. You crash through glass, which breaks into your skin, because of COURSE it does, and you hit the ground of some office building with a scream.

The most annoying part of dying constantly is that your body doesn’t become accustomed to the pain at all. When you wake up tomorrow, you won’t have any of the injuries you gain today, but you also have no resiliency and no change in your abilities.

From this nice little comfortable spot (it’s not comfortable you can’t even be sarcastic about it that’s how uncomfortable it is), you can practically hear the jetpack flames or whatever Endeavor has on his feet come closer. You lie there, weakly kicking your feet as you bleed out like a pincushion, miserably enjoying your last few minutes before the restart.

An invasive thought makes you dip your finger in the pool under you, then push the digit past your lips.

GROSS.

Endeavor shows up, looks at you in abject disgust, aims, and sets you ablaze.

—————————————————

And that’s how. The next year goes.

—————————————————

Maybe just a few months. Maybe a week. Who knows?

—————————————————

You’re tired, but you keep trying.

—————————————————

Sometimes you talk to Endeavor. He responds in mean words and dismissive grunts. Sometimes a rare word of acknowledgment. You get it on camera once to show Hawks later, but die before you get the chance and then your phone, y’know, doesn’t have it anymore, and for some reason Endeavor doesn’t do it again. Even though you ask the exact same way.

—————————————————

Hawks doesn’t care. He finds you, shrieking and sobbing and clutching onto your pillow in your apartment, and pries it from you, holding your face in his hands asking you what’s wrong songbird and telling you i waited for you at patrol and you never showed and i got worried.

And you tell him, again. And you don’t show him how your foot is swollen from how you’d repeatedly banged it against the corner of your bed to force the tears out. It stays hidden under the sheets as he cradles you, thumbs away your tears and rubs two fingers against your neck that must unblock and activate a chakra because you suddenly feel free.

“Hawks,” you sniff, “do you wanna make me feel better?”

“‘Course,” he whispers, kissing the tip of your nose. “Say the word and it’s yours, songbird, what do you need?”

“How should I kill Endeavor?”

“What?”

—————————————————

“Hawks,” you sniff, “do you wanna make me feel better?”

“‘Course,” he whispers, kissing the tip of your nose. “Say the word and it’s yours, songbird, what do you need?”

“I’m bored. Entertain me. Tell me how you would fight the other pros.”

—————————————————

“‘Course,” he whispers, kissing the tip of your nose. “Say the word and it’s yours, songbird, what do you need?”

“I’m bored. Entertain me. Tell me how you would fight Endeavor.”

—————————————————

“I’m bored. Entertain me. Tell me how you would come out on top in a fight against Endeavor.”

—————————————————

“Say Endeavor fights you, how would you try to survive?”

—————————————————

“If you were to, hypothetically, fight Endeavor, is there any way you could come out on top?”

—————————————————

“Poor baby,” your partner coos, feathers running to and fro to get you water and another blanket. “Are you entertained now? Feeling better?”

He wipes the final tear from your cheek as you close your eyes, smiling sickly.

—————————————————

It’s the same office building. Fate is funny like that, throwing you in through maybe the same window, but sparing you some this time around. It knows victory is with you, no matter how hard it will punish for this later.

You lay there again, knowing now that there’s no need to move. Hawks wouldn’t, so you don’t either. And isn’t it fantastic that Endeavor’s biggest fan should give you the means to murder him in cold blood?

The fiery mustache man flies in through the window, and all you do is wiggle your fingers a little. Hurricane does the rest. You don’t call it out. It’s more surprising this way.

The broken shards rise, and they spin around you. A tornado with you in the dead center. It spins, and spins, likeLeviinAttackOnTitanhe’ssohotbarkbarkbark until the room is filled, and you’re still lying there, dead center and damaged and battered, with little bits of Endeavor flying around you too.

—————————————————

For the first time ever, Hawks doesn’t laugh at your story. He reels back, hurt and disgusted, and you may as well have jammed a glass shard into yourself. “That’s sick, Nightingale,” he looks like he might vomit, “that’s fucking sick.”

—————————————————

Tracking All Might down is hard, but then you find him, um? on some beach? even though you’re pretty sure the man is a teacher now, and you float down in front of him.

He has the famous smile and everything, beaming at you. “Ah, Nightingale, is it? What brings you to the coastline, young one?”

You stare at him. For an awfully long time. Not once does his smile disappear. He looks every bit the symbol of peace he is.

You’ve lost count of time. Endeavor could have taken a century, as far as you’re aware.

Fuck it.

With barely two motions, you bring your fists together then separate them, and his smile doesn’t even fall from his face when the air is sucked from his lungs, and he drops to the ground, gone.

“All Might?”

When you turn around, there’s some green-haired dork there, standing frozen in place, staring not at you but at the corpse behind. He’d had a box of…something, likely food, that’s slipped from his hands. It’s not the first time you’ve killed with a child present, but definitely not in such close range. You sigh, rolling your eyes in whatever mock pity you have left in you.

Then his arm starts to glow.

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks x you #keigo takami x you #takami keigo x you #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x you #boku no hero academia x you #ckc fic #valkyrie stories

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pikablob · 6 months

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Hot take for Steven Universe

I really hate the "the diamonds are an allegory for bigoted parents and therefore everything they did was okay actually" take that's become popular since the finale.

Now, to preface this, obviously I don't want Steven to start going around stabbing people. I don't think Bismuth was wrong in her anger at the diamonds, but SU is fundamentally a show about understanding and love triumphing, where everyone is capable of changing for the better. The diamonds aren't written as the kind of cartoon villains where you can just punt them into the sun and be done with it. So no, I didn't want this to end with the literal child, who's whole thing is seeing the good in everyone and helping them break harmful mindsets, to suddenly decide murder is okay.

What I did want is for an actual resolution to the diamonds' arcs where they have to make that change. Like, they spent milennia running an oppressive space empire where people who step an inch out of line are executed, that directly harmed every single one of our main characters - their treatment of Pink/Rose and Steven mirroring how some parents treat queer kids, while a good theme on its own, doesn't erase that. Even within that context, as someone who lived through something close to what it's referencing, the diamonds should need to really prove they've changed. Like, the allegory is there, but it's not all they did and the rest of what they did is so much more awful that reducing them to just the allegory doesn't work.

I think the real heart of the problem is not that Steven didn't beat up the diamonds; it's that the diamonds don't actually have to undergo any real change or redemption. Blue and Yellow realise Steven has Pink's gem, and then just assume everything can go back to normal - okay, sure, that's a way in - but where's the moment when they realise they're wrong? Where's the moment when they really have to work towards being a better person and realising their mindset was harmful the way characters like Peridot did?

It just isn't really there; the moment it starts, White steps in, and then White pulls Steven's gem out and starts laughing and then... she's just good now? We go straight into them healing the corrupted gems, and everything's okay now.

Except, it's not okay; there's a whole extra movie and season about how not okay things are. Except the movie is about the lingering effects of Pink's awfulness and it and the series are all about how Steven's loved ones failed him actually and all the fun in the series actually wasn't fun and everyone sucks. They start from a baseline of "the diamonds are kinda hard to get on with but they're good now" - we basically skipped over the kind of emotional shift and growth that was downright necessary for the diamonds' arc to feel satisfying.

So no, I don't think people are wrong to be upset that the main villains got off too lightly, and as a queer kid who had to go NC with an unaccepting parent, I don't think the whole queer-family-allegory thing means the ending is suddenly okay.

If anything, I think the real problem is the show mis-spending its runtime. And I know that it was cut short, and that Rebecca had to fight for every inch of queer rep, and I appreciate that. But I think it's just a badly paced show at times, and it cut things it really needed to keep (giving the diamonds an actual arc) in favour of things it didn't need (Future, in this case).

Name a fandom or franchise in an ask, and I’ll give you a random hot take I have for it

#ask pika #negative #rant #answering this today because I just saw an absolutely rancid take about this on my dash #steven universe #su

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quirkwizard · 9 months

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In a battle of the second rate number one heroes, who do you think would win: Endeavor or Captain Celebrity?

That's a really mean way to describe them, but it's not exactly wrong. Then again, you're always going to come up short when you are compared to the strongest hero in the setting and a character Hori pulled from a different manga.

So hear me out. On paper, this should be totally one sided. Endeavor has had way more showings then Captain Celebrity and all of them are pretty impressive. He's one of the most powerful and experienced fighters in the series, capable of fighting enemies like Hood, All For One, and Evolved Tomura. He had help with those fights and was pushed beyond his limit for them, but it stills shows off a lot about him. He's certainly a lot smarter then Captain Celebrity as well in every way that matters. By all accounts, Enji should be able to beat him. On the other side, I think this fight's a lot more even then that. There are Captain Celebrity's own feats to consider. Things like beating massive villains in a single punch, stopping a robbery in a single second, surviving dozens of point blank blasts with minor wounds without his barrier, tanked a blast that was capable of burning through all of Fat Gum's reserves with the barrier, and lifting up an entire cruise ship. The last of which is honestly one of the most ridiculous feats of strength we've had on panel, potentially on par with All Might even. All of these seemed to be pretty casual feats or were done when Christopher was at his lowest point possible.

What may be the biggest factor is that Captain Celebrity is kind of a perfect counter to Endeavor. Because Captain Celebrity has all this power and not a lot of exploitable weaknesses. The only way to beat Captain Celebrity is trying to get the barrier off him, either through forcing him to spread it out to something else or through knocking it off of him. The first isn't an option in a one on one fight and the other isn't a cake walk. Endeavor can dish out damage to be sure, but he can't do it forever. He's going to overheat eventually. So unless he's breaking out the super emotional Prominence Burn on Captain Celebrity of all people, which would be super out of character for him to do, it's going to be a while before he can try and break it down. And we're told that Captain Celebrity's barrier can resist heat as well. We don't know to what degree, but it still should be a factor against the guy with fight powers. I could see a version of this fight where Captain Celebrity runs out the clock on Enji or waits for him to slow down before taking him down with a few punches, something which should be enough to do Endeavor in. Which feels so odd to say given these two characters, but I think that Captain Celebrity is strong enough to match Endeavor, and designed in such a way that he has the right amount of counter play to secure a win.

#My Hero Academia #Quirks #Captain Celebrity #Christopher Skyline #Flight #Enji Todoroki #Endeavor #Hellflame #MHA Meta #MHA Theory

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themyscrian · 1 year

Text

Bayonetta 3 is so well written they forget to explain why the main villain is better than you in literally every regard and can kick your ass instantly whenever he feels like it. like in the first and second game you're either fighting something Angelic, Demonic, or an actual literal God and you make killing them look easy.

the final boss of Bayonetta 3 is a cyborg who was made by accident at the prosthetics factory. literally. that is his actual backstory. he kills every single version of Bayonetta in existence without ever breaking a sweat, btw.

somehow he has the power to manipulate and warp the very fabric of reality. this is, as far as i know, never explained. he uses this to just shrug off any damage you deal to him in the last chapter of the game over and over. in the end, the last three Bayonettas in the entire multiverse (the protagonists from all three games) merge into one being and get the shit kicked out of them before finally dying taking him out. so, yeah the woman who was capable of punching the literal creator of the universe into the sun can't beat up a robot that got made by accident and has absolutely zero magical or divine power of any kind because it just… decided she couldn't. wow, how empowering.

#RLPersonalAdventure #Bayonetta 3 Spoilers #i cannot emphasise just how long the final chapter is and just how much of it is cutscenes of Bayonetta getting her ass handed to her #it's actually disrepectful

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number1villainstan · 4 months

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Random questions? I'm down! So on the whole thing with deku not existing and all, can you elaborate I've had some thoughts on it but haven't thought of it hard enogh too write anything about it?

jesus fuck this took so long to answer, i straight up forgot this was in my drafts--

The short answer/thesis statement: Midoriya Izuku is a "black hole protagonist": he, as a character, twists the story around him in order to make himself look sympathetic/always right/super cool (or, more accurately, Horikoshi writes the story that way) to the detriment of the plot, themes, and development of other characters--hell, even to the detriment of his own character depth/development.

(Disclaimers and justification/the rest of the essay under the cut. This is going to be long, and will probably take a long time to answer.)

(Disclaimer: I've really only watched the anime to the end of the Shie Hassaikai arc and through part of the Gentle Criminal--sorry, School Festival arc and read the manga chapters where Lady Nagant appears (the first time) or is mentioned. Quite frankly, I don't want to watch or read further, except for maybe watching the Nagant episodes, or clips of the MLA. That being said, from what I've seen of spoilers, I'm not sure the later part of the series is much different on the points I'm going to talk about.)

Probably the first thing is Deku's internal/inherent traits as a character. What traits does he have? Well, there's his physical appearance, he's a fan of All Might, he cries a lot, he wants to be a hero. Okay, sure. But why does he want to be a hero? What does he get emotional about? He was bullied for being Quirkless--where do we see the effects of that in canon? He and the rest of Class 1A have been repeatedly attacked by villains and lived through seeing one of their classmates chained up like an animal on live television BY THEIR SCHOOL and then kidnapped by a group of villains that attacked a summer camp that was supposed to be safe. (Yes, I am salty about the Sports Festival and Bakugo, because that was bullshit.) Moreover, that student that got chained up was supposed to be someone Deku looked up to. What the hell are the emotional effects of that? Does Deku even see Bakugo Katsuki as a person? A bully? Or just as a standard to surpass? Canon doesn't answer any of these questions--it doesn't even treat them as relevant. Deku's just a bland character for the author to make look cool through Beating Up Villains and pretty (but ultimately hollow) Speeches About The Importance of Heroics and Compassion.

And of course, we have the traits we're told he has, like compassion and understanding, but that don't actually play out--or at least don't play out consistently--in his actions. If he's so compassionate, why doesn't it extend to Overhaul, who breaks out into hives every time someone touches him? That's not normal or healthy! If he's so understanding, then what's this shit I hear about him telling Dabi he's worse than his abusive father? And--furthermore--why does this "compassion" only seem to come out when he's physically fighting people? Why is it that he never steps down from a fighting stance and sits down next to someone? (Although maybe that part's just shonen bullshit.) Furthermore, his informed compassion never leads him to change his mind--no matter what his opponent's arguments are, the narrative always frames Deku as in the right.

And then, of course, there's the fact that he takes up far more than his fair share of screen time. Yes, even though he's the main character. Like 80% of every single episode is dedicated to just showing him off (and despite the disproportionate amount of screentime he gets, he's still such a nothing of a character). How much character development does anyone else around him get, outside of maybe one or two arcs? Hell, it's so bad that Bakugo Katsuki, the guy who's apparently supposed to be his long-term bully/friend/frenemy, has practically no details about him. We don't see his room in the dorm tour, we don't see his parents outside of the montage of a bunch of different characters' parents when the teachers are going around (and the fact that his mother slaps him and calls him weak for getting kidnapped goes completely unaddressed? In a series with the Todoroki family and the Hassaikai arc???), we see comparatively little of Bakugo outside of his interactions/relationship with Deku. And Bakugo is supposed to be a deuteragonist--think of how many secondary characters have their characterization cut short or subsumed into the black hole of Deku. Uraraka Ochako, Iida Tenya, to some extent even Todoroki Shouto, every other member of Class 1A.

And then there's the effect of having Deku as a protagonist on the story's treatment of its villains. BnHA tries to send the message of "everyone deserves to be saved" or "villains are products of their circumstances", but, for a variety of reasons--including Deku being a "black hole protagonist"!--but, uh, not a whole lot of the villains actually end up getting saved (rather than arrested), and when they do sometimes it's in a way that negates their very real concerns/reasons for being a villain. Very first to my mind is, of course, the Hassaikai: the only one in that group "saved" in any capacity is Eri, which, being one of thirteen named characters (among a host of unnamed ones), isn't exactly a very high rate of 'saving.' I thought everyone was supposed to be saved? And of course, there's the added factor of Overhaul--the main villain for that arc--being the character most heavily coded as mentally ill and/or neurodivergent in the series, and that that coding is used to make him seem more scary/villainous/evil. (I could write a whole Rant on how the narrative's treatment of Overhaul's character is ableist as fuck, but that's not what we're focusing on here.) And then we have Lady Nagant--who is saved, yes, but how many of her concerns about the deep structural issues associated with hero society and the HPSC are actually, meaningfully, specifically addressed? She shouldn't have been 'saved' by a fifteen-year-old cop in training. She shouldn't have been able to be 'saved' by a fifteen-year-old cop in training.

Sometimes, the kind of self-indulgent overpowered protagonist that Deku is can have its place, but BnHA as a story is trying to make a point, and Deku's role in the story actively contradicts its messages. BnHA is supposed to send a message of compassion and "everyone deserves to be saved" and whatnot, but then, not least because of its black hole protagonist, turns around and says that actually the mentally ill don't count, queer people don't count, anyone who's ever hurt a child doesn't count, anyone who reacts to trauma in the "wrong way" (with anger, irritability, etc) doesn't count, anyone who was subject to the wrong high-control group doesn't count, anyone who has the wrong idea about how the world should be doesn't count, anyone who isn't "sympathetic" for whatever fucking reason doesn't fucking count. Maybe I could just write Boku no Hero Academia off as a mediocre show if it had failed its goals in some other way, but as someone who fits just a few too many of the traits I just listed, it's hard to ignore the bigotry and judgement behind these contradictions.

And quite frankly, this shit makes me mad.

#anti deku #bnha #bnha meta #ask #angie starz #at first I was using the term “mary sue”#but ended up switching it out for “black hole protagonist” because that more effectively gets the idea across #without the baggage and implications of “mary sue”

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alexissara · 4 months

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My Favorite NPCs

We're at it again talking about my OCs. We've talked about Current OCs and my favorite OCs who never really got to see play so today we're talking NPCS. I GM a lot, more than I play. So of course, over that time I've made some characters whom I just love so much and have become some of my favorite OCs despite them never really being PCs or only being PCs very briefly. Honorable Mention to Jillian Owlnight whom I have already wrote about when I wrote about The Iconic Matriarch from TSL.

Grifta Scamsly

System: Anyone I can fit them in

[ https://picrew.me/ja/image_maker/296093 ]

Grifta Scamsly first appeared as a one off joke NPC who was intended to divert the players in my Fellowship campaign just a little. However, Griffta Scasmsly, They/Them, as in THEY got THEM deals but seriously please use the right pronouns was a big hit with the players. Since they were well liked I had them show up in little bit roles again and fleshed out a backstory from jokes I told during appearances that actually lead to them being a big part near the end of the campaign establishing firmly The Scamaly and their backstory of being part of a group of Orphans who were abused by the adults running the orphanage and managed to take over the joint and get all of them out of their lives by conning everyone they could in an elaborate scream proudly taking on the Scamsly name they formed for themselves.

Griftta would appear in multiple worlds since then with the consistent beats, They/them, is from a found family of orphans and actually a very helpful friend who just also happens to be a con artist. They even went on to inspire me to make the playbook for Thirsty Sword Lesbians The Swindler which also started as a joke that I could make the Griffta playbook since they didn't fit any of the playbooks perfectly.

Celeste

System: Fellowship

[ https://picrew.me/ja/image_maker/332600 ]

In the same campaign that Griffta appeared we had our Overlord Celeste. A chaotic being who altered areas to make them strange, fun and weird wishing to alter the whole world to her amusement altering reality wherever she went. In truth the woman was possessed by an evil force who simply wished to ruin the world and had attempted to burn the world before and was sealed away in a Crystal the girl found. She was a weirdo who just had her crush and best friend in a very uptight community of light mages. She wanted to make the world break through all the norms and everything for her beloved taking it too far.

She was really fun to play because she had a very fun voice to do and a very strange manner of thinking and doing things while being rooted in one of the PCs in a positive way and in a negative way with the other two. Celeste was a house of mysteries for the players to crack and a force of chaos that was hard to get pinned down. Then getting to play a touch of her without the force inside of her at the very end was very rewarding and her being united with her mutual crush and them getting together was just very sweet. It was overall really great to have this very recurring villain that the game itself put under protection and the effects of could be felt every single step of their adventure.

Altia

System: Thirsty Sword Lesbians and King Is Dead

[ https://picrew.me/ja/image_maker/227881 ]

Altia was "Her Holiness" the voice of the goddess of The Pure Light was another villain that was just an utter blast to chew up as a GM. She is really special becuase she was really fun on multiple layers. There was her while she was possessed by the Pure Light both as mostly herself but swayef and more of a direct take over. Then there was her post being free of The Holy Lady fully herself but trying to make up for past wrong doing. Then her more exploring herself phase but equally fun was showing the counter balance to her. Altia always posed herself as a reformer, progressive, to The genocidal churches left and improving monster relationships. Since her personality was mostly involved in most choices she really had made some strong reforms and having The Holy Lady move to her more conservative counter part and war errupting right away and policies shifitng to further fash then the existing bad fash was fun and only had the impact because Altia set up varying degrees of awful for us.

It was fun to have this religious and political agent, the ways she changed the world when she was evil and the ways she wanted to actually change the world, the ways she was twisted and the ways she resisted. Altia was just a really fun character and as a shared NPC in a CO-GM campaign she was really fun to build on with others and go through varying twists I'd never have made myself but loved.

Queen Azure

System: Masks: A New Generation

Art by Littleinksheep

Another Villain and this time one that didn't get to see too much spotlight but even found herself in lore in a future campaign so one I have a ton of fondness for. This NPC was a little bit different in that it was an NPC I designed from a PC perspective with the Masks Playbook, The Innocent. The playbook has you make a future version of yourself that is a big time baddy or otherwise messed up and have that be the main focus of conflict for you.

Azure was the princess of a Fire Emblem land on Earth that was taken from earth and into a space collector of abnormally magical and powerful places to "protect the universe". When this tech was being used to move it Azure was hit between a pivotal moment in time and space duplicating herself one being shot through time far into the future 1418 years into the future and the other, Queen Azure remaining in her place in time but in a new universe captured by the man.

Her farther killed before her and her people and culture being wiped out while she was captured by him to remain part of his "preservation of history" lead to her getting angrier and more aggressive, she had fought in a war before always with the power of friendship and with hope to reach every opponent, now she wanted death for her enemy no path to redemption or understanding. Azure managed to lead other captured cultures that hadn't resisted and therefore still had numbers left to rise up against the man who captured them and kill him and sized his operation. With his tech she took her old castle and turned into into an intergalactic spaceship and reality traveling ship. Azure then went to start conquering worlds with the intention of using her domain over them to protect them from a force as powerful as that man and threats that might grow to his level gathering the strongest warriors to work under her directly.

Over time Azure also learned the dark secrets of her own culture and embraced all sides of her abilities to become more powerful in order to protect the multiverse. After so many years she finally found her home reality and home world returning to find her first and truest love was still alive and had become a vampire in her absence but rejected the path she had taken and fought back against her. I GMed the first encounter session as a set up for my character coming into the campaign as I switched characters and I was in tears as she fought her beloved and they reached that moment of impasse where she realized the only thing left from what she knew, the woman she loved most, all of that were no longer compatible with her but refusing to let go of her role as the protector of The Multiverse and Queen of The Arondite Kingdoms.

I can't help myself but ramble about her as you just saw, I got so much more to say but she is such a tragic villain who isn't like mind controlled or corrupted just brought to a radical position by radical trauma but genuinely doing her best and what she thinks is the kindest option. She worked really well as a natives foil to Princess Azure and this looming threat of the kind of person she could become, she would become if she saw what she saw. Azure doesn't deny that if she suffered the same trauma she would have been different, she knows they are the same exact person she is simply a younger version of her but she wants to remind her of why she fought, why what they fought for matters but she also had to come to terms with the reality her life was fucked up too and that part of what was going on with Azure started well before "that man".

Mona

System: "Masks: A New Generation"

[ https://picrew.me/ja/image_maker/86774 ]

Mona was from my very first dedicated TTRPG campaign that actually had consistent games. There was a session I made specifically to present a bunch of hot NPCs to the players and attempt to get them to hook up with someone. Our Alien Stoner Pizza Delivery girl fell head over heels for one of the most silly of my silly sexy characters Mona. She has a magic staff that can do anything but it's totally random and triggers off her saying magic. One day Mona found it on the ground, she brought it to The Lost And Found and they ended up returning it to her when no one claimed it. Since then she has used it and her super power to jump really high [above average] to work as a part time gig hero on apps.

This bisexual dork fell head over heels for the cute alien girl being mutually considered fuck ups but both seeing only the amazing things about one another. Over time they stood up for each other and fought for each other and time and time again despite how wild, scary or out of this world things got Mona was there to provide magic.

I had a really funny little voice I did for her and to this day randomly I'll just say "Magic!" in her voice and get a giggle out of my fiancé or my girlfriends who were in the campaign.

Sapphire Riches

System: Masks: A New Generation/Thirsty Sword Lesbians

[ https://meiker.io/play/11994/online.html ]

Sapphire Riches actually started out as PC in a Thirsty Sword Lesbians One Shot I did on stream. I started a Masks Campaign shortly after that stream and in the first session of the shared GM campaign I ran I decided to put Sapphire in as a bit NPC still in her rich bitch era with none of the introspection I gave her for the TSL game. She was a rich girl super hero using tech she mostly just bought along with maybe a few of her own mods added in and part of a corporations super hero department. She ended up with a romance with one of the PCs and she did in fact manage to fix her, mostly, kinda, she improved a lot.

I really enjoy playing a terrible rich girl but typically those characters can not be fun to have around long term but here everyone knew where I was taking her so it was even more fun to be able to lean into it and show that development. She remained a fairly minor character even after the time skip where we switched to Thirsty Sword Lesbians. Sapphire is just one of those really fun characters to have show up and be a little cute or sassy or out of touch and remained a high light any time I brought her in. Most recently I used her in a private RP as a main character but leaning more into the toxic elements for spice and that was a really fun take too.

If you enjoyed hearing about my OCs then you can support me on Patreon or Ko-fi or you can just tell me you liked them. Sharing this stuff probably helps in theory someone hire me to GM something so rebloging helps a lot too.

#OCs #Fellowship #Fellowship TTRPG #Villians #TTRPG Villains #TTRPG NPCs #NPCs #thirsty sword lesbians #masks: a new generation #TTRPG OCs #OC #Grifta Scamsly #Sapphire Riches #Mona #Queen Azure #Altia #Celeste

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