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threepandas · 2 months

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Bad End: Chosen

I used to love Otome games.

Used to love the genre, predictable as it could sometimes be. It was bright. Fun. A colorful bit of escapism built on love and power fantasies. I read the books. Watched the animes. Engaged with the fandoms freely and with an enthusiasm I can barely remember now.

It was a lifetime ago.

Before I... before, like a monkey's paw wish, I got granted every OI fan's DREAM. I somehow, someway, died and was reborn. A genuine isekai all of my own. I laugh now... I really do... I was so fucking EXCITED.

I was a FOOL.

The world is not a story. PEOPLE are not characters. You can not push the "right" social imput buttons and have a happy ending pop out. Time moves as it always has and always will. Day by day. And? Just because you are HERE? Does not mean you are SPECIAL.

I was old enough to know that, thank the Gods. Or I would have made a likely terrible mistake. Probably a fatal one, by now.

How, you may ask? Surely if you are reborn, you are special! Important to the "plot"! HA. Ah yes, the all forsaken PLOT. That damnable thing, chaining out fates and making us dance, like toys, for the Gods amusement. No, I was merely a replacement part for one worn out and broken down. A soul that gave up.

This dance repeats, you know.

They aren't done with us yet. Not bored of us, all the twists and turns we might take. She could not keep fighting. Keep raging. And so she was replaced. Now I live... a changeling in her place. Knowing my role yet careful to defy it. But... oh...

Oh, how almost IMPOSSIBLE it is to defy it.

I am supposed to HATE her. The Protagonist. The Chosen One. Saintess and beloved. The God's special little thing. Showered in adoration and silks, pampering and protection. While we all DIE. In this, their STUPID fucking Holy War, that we CAN NOT WIN, against "The Dark".

How HELPFUL, my liege. How incredibly SPECIFIC. Is "The Dark" the demons that tore apart my squadron a fortnight ago or the undead that rose and devored an entire village of terrified innocents? How do we STOP them? END this infinite string of atrocities?

Oh? "Only the SAINTESS can push back The Dark"? Well then! It's a good thing she safely tucked away in the CAPITAL THEN, isn't it!? Far from the front lines where we NEED her! Thank the GODS she's getting her chance to play "fuck, fuck, marry!" with the nation's finest while we all DIE!

I remind myself again, desperately, I am not allowed to hate her.

If I hate her, I become an antagonist in this little play. Doomed to die a gruesome and needless death. My men need me. The people need me. The live and breathe and fear for their lives. At the mercy of cruel God's who do not care.

I almost... It is enough that I almost wish my Master was here. But no, HE stayed back at the Magic Tower. Lost interest in me the second the merest HINT that his beloved pet prophecy might be about to be fulfilled. I was his student for most of my life. Chased up and down that mind-bending hellhole for years, giving my everything to meet his every standard.

Does he even remember my name?

Ha ha... gods, as I stare down at the battle map, one of so SO many... I feel brittle. How long will we fight? How many of my men must DIE, before that God coddled BITCH gets off her ass and comes to do her JOB?! We've lost Redwell. Lakehill is covered in ghouls. And no one we sent near the forests of Mirth ever reports back.

But at least the crown prince is getting his fucking birthday party while his people starve. While they run for their lives. Cower from demons and the damned. Because his Twue Woooove~ can't be allowed to put her dainty little self in DANGER now CAN she?!

I'm seething. Furious. Nails digging into the wood on the table before me. I know I should be planning... but I just... gods, I just so ANGRY. So tired. How long can this continue? Am I going to die here, just so those fuckers can DRAMATICALLY "save the day" at the last second? As though they had not let thousands die? Only for it all to begin again? What am I supposed to d-?

Like a roll of thunder and an earthquake combined, the non-physical world SHAKES.

Weight. POWER. Like a mountain appearing from no where, to drop down upon us all. It is CRUSHING. And every bit as dark as being buried beneath tons on soil and stone. My legs nearly give out. My grip on the table before me the only thing keeping me up and alarm bells start clanging outside my tent.

This is it.

I don't know what's about to happen, but I can FEEL it. I... I can not possibly hope to win. It's over. I know, in my heart, I will go out there and fight. Die. Because I refuse to die cowering. Because maybe it'll make a difference for my friends, for the others, for those that yet live. Every monster I slay is one less they fight.

But... this is it.

It's over.

I wish I felt braver. Glorious and filled with light. A beacon of hope, perhaps. But all I can offer is fear and anger and SPITE. Locking my knees so I can stand. Blinking away the tears so I can grit my teeth and bare them. Grabbing my staff so can go a die with the others. Today I shall burn the world. I promised myself.

Take them with you.

Take every last one of those fuckers WITH YOU.

The battle is ugly. It always is and always will be. I heal where I can but kill faster the most can blink. Waves of fire. Blood turned to ice turn to shrapnel bombs turned to flying storms of blood ice shards. Wind attacks and void pockets. Puppets made of mud and rock and bits of armor. The blood of the fallen only making it all that much stronger, that much more terrible.

Magic in war hold no beauty.

I wish I never had to see it again.

"Grandlearner, you've been practicing." A rich voice observed from behind me, sounding pleased. "Good~"

Between one instance and the next, the crushing ocean of power moves between the far side of the battle field to right behind me. I move, spin. Fire my strongest short-range piercing in the desperate hope to gut the man now far too close. I... am effortlessly countered.

He didn't even have to move his hands.

There, standing in the heart of an open battle field, is a man in impeccable fomal clothes. Spotless, dispite the ash and dust, the blood and gore. Almost inhuman in his otherness, compared to the death and suffering surrounding him. He looks like a proper well-to-do gentleman ready for a stroll. The sort of ambiguously ageless bachelor that had haunted the royal university's halls every time I was sent there, to collect something for the Tower.

Too old to be some boyish flirt, too young to be a rougish mistake. It feels false. Mocking. Like a mask held up by some grinning beast. Something older then it seems, effortlessly blending in with the Power of the current age, all the better to play them like fools.

Then the words register and my blood runs cold.

"Learner". It's what a Master calls their personal magical students at the Tower. There are lineage, of a sort. Like bloodlines, almost. Since most never leave. A way to pass on your teachings. Your name and traditions. It's not like we often have the chance to have biological kids. Too busy with our studies. So it's considered effectively the same.

My Master's Master. Who was said to be one of, if not THE, greatest Mages of the last thousand years, possibly longer. Said to have simply vanished one day. Rumored to have "lost his mind" and left the Tower for places unknown after some great argument. Foremost expert on The Dark.

Now standing h...here. Right... Right here. With the enemy army. Of dark and terrible things. The very abominations he once studied "academically". Oh gods. It doesn't take much to put two and two together.

"I've come to collect you, my dear." He says, the very picture of charm as my men scream and suffer around him. As they fight for their lives against his monstrosities. As... as they LOSE. "It has come to my attention, that my unfortunate disappointment of a student has been neglecting his duties to you."

He sweeps his hat gallantly from his head, holding it against his heart at just the right angle, as though offering to merely take me for a stroll. Picture perfect etiquette. As though this were high society and not a warzone. The disconnect stuns me for long moments. "Collect" me?

He strolls forward. Expensive shoe leather somehow unstained by the terrible muck of the battlefield. The blood and mud, the spell water and ash. Amusement rolling off every line of his form, as I try to keep the distance between us. As I struggle against the sucking filth to keep my feet under me.

"I would like to say I am surprised... but honestly? I am not. He always WAS easily distracted by shiny trinkets of little worth. The shinier the better. Like an empty headed little magpie. Disgusting really, how little he values loyalty. I DID try to instill some values. Hard work. Good, honest, study. Some modicum of rationality..."

"It did not work." He sighs, stepping over the fallen body of my Cordelia, my reserve healer. Gods, please no, I told her to RUN... "Unlike myself of course. I, my dear, know EXACTLY what your worth. How you have been WASTED on that little ingrate. It truely has been a theme with him, hasn't it?"

"Tossing aside anything who doesn't fit his perfect little vision. His Master, his Learner, nothing is sacred to him. All he shall ever care for is his little divine tart, won't he?"

The grin that spills across his mouth is like poison through veins, it terrifies me. His face is arranged in a mask of pleasantry. But the look in his eye... that look was coldly covetous. The sort of hunger that would sooner kill than release its hold. It wasn't lustful, I was a child too him. An infant. But I was, perhaps, all that remained. The last piece of his lineage he could possibly still steal away. Corrupt.

I refused.

It... it did not matter much, in the end.

Every spell, he counters. Every attack, he matchs with effortless neutralization. The well of his magic is like the sea. Deep, dark, and crushing. I rage against it, even knowing I stand no chance. I... I have to TRY. I can do no less. Even as I slowly collapse.

Water and ice, electricity and transformation, wind and fire. I try to EXPLODE HIS ORGANS for the Gods sake. In the end, with nothing left, the well of my magic nearly bone dry... I swing at him. Put my back in to it. A staff is a staff after all. It even has a pretty hefty rock in it. It'd probably take out a few teeth.

He, of course, catches it.

Bastard.

He looks CHARMED. Utterly delighted. As though my defiance and struggle are some cute little game. The tantrum of an adorable child that does not wish to submit to their nap. The world swayed as my body begs me to just pass out. To escape within myself. Recover. My legs can no longer hold me. I glare. At last, long last, I let myself HATE.

If that BITCH had just DONE HER JOB. I would not be here, at the mercy of a mad man. While she frolics about, in her happy little tale of love and misunderstandings? I have suffered. People have died! The world has fallen to slow and crumbling RUIN.

Gloved hands cupped my cheeks.

"That's it, little one~ My precious child. Get angry. RAGE for me. Let Master see your fire~" thumbs stroked my cheeks. Looming and entirely too close. There is a glee in that eye, a madness. "We are going to set this world FREE. You? Oh dearest you are utterly PERFECT. Master will take care of everything, understand? All you have to do?"

"Is give in."

Next -->

#threepandas #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere otome #yandere mentor #yandere OI #yandere otome isekai #bad end yandere #bad end chosen #bad end chosen au #yanblr #yancore #reader insert #mage reader #platonic yandere

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anobjectshowguy · 7 months

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I hope people in the OSC (and other fandoms in general) who are ok with or neutral about Kosa realize that not only will we lose a bunch of platforms that allow us to interact with each other (Tumblr, discord, Ao3, Wattpad, Twitter, YouTube, etc) but will also get rid of at least 80-95% of our fandom.

The OSC consists mostly of people between 13-17 who (if Kosa goes through the Senate and Houses of Representatives and gets passed as a law) will most likely no longer have access to YouTube and other social platforms which actively kills almost all the people who read and watch Object Shows!

By visiting and sharing animated shows like II or BFDI those creators make money which gives them the means to keep making their shows and paying their animators, voice actors, writers and so much more. This bill will actively get rid of most of the people who watch these shows which will cause a large loss in support and revenue for these creators and will most likely mean the end for any smaller object show.

Object show comics rely on people sharing them around in fandom spaces since they’re not animated and put on YouTube like animated object shows are. By losing these spaces and the people who support their content these creators will no longer be able to reach a large audience and get the support they need to continue their comics. This means that we will lose a lot of the comics that the OSC has!

Most of the content you see in the OSC is made by minors, which this bill will actively destroy and thus kill this fandom and many others!

So I am begging of you OSC and other communities, Please please please sign petitions, tell your senators and representatives that you don’t want this bill to pass, and tell anyone that you can reach about how this Bill is a violation of privacy and minors' rights! Re-blog anything you see with helpful information about what Kosa is and keep talking about it! We need to tell people about it so that this doesn’t go through the Senate. Remember, the final day is February 26, we don’t have that long!!!

Here’s some helpful resources:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/07/you-can-help-stop-these-bad-internet-bills

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ruskaroma · 1 year

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ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 1: written in blood.

Warnings: this series will include highly disturbing/dark topics such as stalking, unhealthy obsession, graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, manipulation, gaslighting, large age gap, emotional/psychological abuse, dom/sub undertones, bad BDSM etiquette, etc.

this is a dark fic, written in john's pov and a glimpse of how his mind works. if you still continue to read and get triggered, that is not my responsibility.

Summary: John finds himself a new obsession.

Author's note: this is my first ever fanfic for this fandom and i am beyond excited to share this with you guys! though i must say before you begin, english is not my first language and there might be a few errors in my writing here and there, so i apologize in advance.

but either way, i still hope you enjoy this piece, and i can assure you that once i finish writing this series there will be more to come! i really enjoy writing john wick be a merciless bastard who kills everything that breathes, and i hope you enjoy it too as much as i did.

please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think in the comment and reblogs and likes would be so appreciated. it motivates me to write even more :)

(also this is not edited so all mistakes are on me and i apologize)

Word count: 8.1k

also read on ao3.

It’s one of those days again.

The sound of his watch ticking is the only thing keeping his car from being too quiet. His eyes watch every single movement of his target, never leaving his sight. It won’t be too long for John to finally strike, he just doesn’t want too many civilians seeing the horror that’s about to happen right before their very eyes.

His mind is thinking of many things he could do with this target in particular. A lowlife thug that got himself involved with a very dangerous Italian mob, but then again that’s not the reason why John’s murderous intent is at its peak at the moment.

He’s angry at something, he just doesn’t know what. And this target of his isn’t helping his situation at all. Reading his criminal record made John think this could be a chance to cure his boredom. This man is not only a sex trafficker, but also a pedophile who has a history of targeting teenagers to rape and sell to the black market that’s as fucked up as him.

He doesn’t normally take his time thinking of ways to kill his targets. He points, shoots, leaves. This one in particular though, got him facing a side of him that John himself doesn’t want to face.

He would start by breaking every single one of the man’s fingers. And if that doesn’t do any justice, he’ll cut them off.

One by one, let the man savor the feeling, let John relish the nightmare.

He could slit the man’s throat, watch as life drains away from his body, watch as the man clings to his legs for mercy. John could even pull out the man’s dick, step on it, fucking cut it off and shove it so far down his own throat that he couldn’t scream for help if he tried.

It’s John’s version of Colombian Necktie. A classic, only ever tried it out four times, hopefully this would be the fifth.

John is never the one to take pleasure in killing people, but these past few months have proved him otherwise.

Maybe it’s because of Helen’s death, and the way he was basically forced to sculpt the demons he buried back into himself. His only remaining bit of humanity was taken from him, and he’s coping in the most unhealthy way possible. Perhaps Winston was right about dipping his pinky a little too much into the pond, but it was inevitable.

John has gone back to his old ways. Taking contracts here and there to distract himself from the void in his heart. He remembers how burying a knife into someone’s throat for the first time in many years has ignited something in him he didn’t even know he had.

That’s why he’s here, exiting his car in a swift move, following his target as quietly as possible into a narrow alleyway that stinks of garbage in piss. This would be a nice place to kill a guy like him – right where he belongs.

John’s movements are so discreet the man couldn’t even sense him until John wrapped his right arm around his neck and his other hand went to cover the man’s mouth. He walks them both to the back of a building as the man struggles, where John’s sure no more people are present, and he kicks him on the jaw to stop the man from making any more noises.

John can make this quick. Pull out his gun and blow his brains out. But there’s that sinister glint in his mind that’s telling him to do something unimaginable – grotesque even – a death a man like him deserves.

The man tries to swing his arm at John but misses pathetically. The poor guy’s already shaking and John hasn’t even begun.

John doesn’t respond to the pitiful attempts of questioning who he is and who sent him here, he simply pulls his knife from his pocket and wastes no time slashing it against the man’s throat, the blood spraying all over his face. The man tries to stop it by shakily covering the deep cut with his hand, but it’s useless.

He’s gargling, choking on his own blood, and John’s watching it all unravel with a familiar glint in his eyes.

John is contemplating if he should follow the plan he made in his head or just leave it like this. Somehow, the sight looks rather incomplete to him. He knows what he’s done is not enough, but that could be just the rage talking. The man’s already dead, and surely cutting off his dick and shoving it so far down his throat it comes out of the wound would leave an ugly reputation on his name.

Would that be a good thing? John is already feared enough, would it be a good thing to make people fear him even more? But then again, this won’t be the first time he’s done it. Doing it again one more time wouldn’t make any difference.

He glances down at the dead body on his feet before he kneels down to do the unforgivable.

Slicing off a man’s cock is easy. Too easy. John’s knife is perfectly sharpened and stoned, he merely uses any strength to cut it off. The sight is so fucking ugly, too much blood, but nothing he can’t handle.

Once that’s done, John uses his other hand to force the dead man’s jaw open, immediately greeted by the foul stench of blood as he shoves the unpleasant dick into the man’s open mouth. The genitalia is definitely not long enough to reach the throat, but that won’t be any problem for John.

He grits his teeth as he forces his hand in there, not bothering to care even if the jaw breaks and the hole becomes even wider, his goal is the only thing in his mind.

The blood continues to drip and he has never been so grateful for wearing an all black uniform for this occasion. Soon enough, after a few minutes of such a brutal wrongdoing, John sees the tip of the cock reaching the deep wound on the man’s throat as it continues to peak its way out.

A sick, small smile spreads across John’s face. The smile is barely there, but he’s fucking enjoying this more than he’d like to admit. He can only imagine how the news would spread across the assassin underworld like a wildfire.

The Boogeyman’s back in business and he’s scarier than ever.

Perhaps this might be the way to lay his point across. This is a way to show them that it was not a good idea pissing him off, killing what’s his, and bringing him back in business. They’d regret it, but it would be already too late for that.

John uses his other hand to pull the cock right out of the man’s throat but not completely. Half of it is hanging out and John thinks he could even consider this as a masterpiece. There’d be flies and maggots that would make the scenery better, but the cleaning service is there for a reason. He can’t just not use it.

John stands up from his position, pocketing his knife back into his pocket before retrieving his phone with the other. He dials a number, waits for them to pick up, all while admiring his work on the ground.

His previous contracts these past few months all ended in such an unimaginable, ugly way. He figured that by showing them that he’s capable of such brutality, it would increase the numbers of people calling him in for more jobs, because this is exactly what they wanted. They wanted Baba Yaga, the ruthless killer of the underworld who stops at nothing to finish his job, and he’s simply giving it to them.

Someone picks up the call and he straightens his posture, checking the time on his watch before speaking.

“This is Wick. John Wick, yes. I would like to make a dinner reservation for one.”

The news spread faster than anticipated.

The notorious man John Wick, the hot topic of the criminal underworld at the moment, even gained the attention of The High Table, and it all happened in the span of one day. That’s how quick the news spread amongst his fellow assassins, though that’s exactly what he was going for.

John expected it so he isn’t surprised when he receives a call from Charon saying Winston wants to meet him.

He inserts a coin in the door and the small window opened briefly. The guy on the other side immediately recognized him, not wasting a single moment to open the door and let the man of the hour in. All eyes are on him the moment he steps into the club, but no one dared to murmur anything to anybody – not when the man himself is here.

They know better.

John spots Winston at his usual spot drinking his usual order, signaling John to sit beside him where a glass of bourbon is already present.

“Jonathan,” Winston greets, raising his glass. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“I figured,” John replies, though not interested. He slides himself to the booth and takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t understand why though.”

“Are we really playing this game, Jonathan?” The manager raises a brow.

“I was just doing my job.”

“In a way you don’t normally do,” Winston then adds. “Or should I say, in a way you don’t even do.”

John gives him a look, but he could tell Winston doesn’t know how to interpret it. His face remains emotionless, not letting the mask slip and grant Winston the privilege to take a peak. John will continue to play this game until he’s satisfied, until he feels something again. Surely he’ll find what he’s looking for while doing the only thing he’s ever good at – slaughtering.

“Let’s just say I was trying out a new technique,” John says, voice deep and almost sinister. Winston’s scared, though he doesn’t show it, John knows.

“I have known you ever since you started, Jonathan. Not once did it cross my mind you would do something so.. horrifying as this. You discarded the body like he was some sort of pig, so believe me when I say I couldn’t believe it at first.”

John has no idea why Winston’s whining about him being horrifying, when that’s all they’ve been saying about him ever since he joined. He didn’t gain this reputation for no reason, now he’s just simply showing them what more he’s capable of.

“You should’ve seen his record.” His tone is menacing, swirling the drink in his hand as he stares deeply at Winston’s eyes. “He’s worse than a pig.”

The drop of the curse word takes Winston by surprise. “So is that what it is, then? You killed him that way because you think he deserved it?”

“Not really,” John simply sighs, leaning back on the leather seat as he takes another sip of his bourbon. He really isn’t planning on staying longer, but Winston seems to be taking his sweet time asking him a bunch of stupid questions. “I couldn’t care less of what he’s done. I was simply… bored. Saying that I did that because I think he deserved it gives people a reason to think that what I did was justifiable.”

The look on Winston’s face says enough. He’s afraid of John, afraid of what he has become. Hearing John say he did such an unforgiving thing just because he was bored is beyond frightening. No man has ever inflicted so much fear on him before – at least not until John.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” Winston finally says, not wanting to hear any more disturbing thoughts of John, but he remains polite and calm for the sake of their friendship. “You have a good night, Jonathan.”

John gives him a nod, standing up from his seat and downing his drink in one go. “Goodnight, Winston.”

He exits the club with an eerie aura following behind him, not caring about the way people are looking at him like he’s got Death himself walking beside him.

It makes him wonder that maybe death doesn’t follow him after all.

Maybe it is him.

Someone offered him five million to fuck up a man who allegedly stole a fuck ton of kilograms of cocaine from their warehouse, and really, who is John to decline the offer?

Hunting the man is easy. It didn’t even take a day to locate where the man lives, and John’s already breaking into his apartment to shoot the guy and leave. There’s no point in rummaging the place for the cocaine, all of it is already up the man’s system by the looks of it, and killing him is John’s job.

John wants to finish this one fast, he’s got other business to attend to. As he backs up the frightened, pathetic excuse for a man against the wall, he takes his gun out of his holster and aims directly at the head, right between the eyes, and he watches in great pleasure as the residue of his brains splatter against the walls and the floor.

This man didn’t even put up a fight. John thinks this is a waste of time.

He exits the apartment with disappointment heavy on his shoulders, slamming the door shut. Although the gun he used has a silencer, the rooms are too close to each other. He’s sure there might be other people who heard the shot of his firearm.

The apartment building is located at the filthy side of New York, where most known drug dealers and junkies do their nasty deals. It’s no surprise that as soon as John steps a foot out of the worn out building, all eyes are on him, but mainly on the clothes he’s wearing. They’re planning on mugging him out, and John would like to see them try.

Just as he’s about to walk to his car, his phone rings abruptly in his chest pocket. He retrieves it in one swift motion, not noticing that a gold coin fell out as he does so, and he continues walking to not waste any more time.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir, you dropped something!” John hears from behind. He doesn’t bother looking.

The call isn’t nearly as important as the business he needs to attend to, so he hangs up the call and pushes his phone back into his pocket. As soon as he does that, he feels a small hand touching his shoulder.

John’s hand immediately flies to wrap his large hand around the person’s wrist, turning around to see a young woman with a bewildered expression on her pretty face, little fingers holding his golden coin that looks far too big on her hand.

She looks scared, terrified, and oh how fucking awful that makes John feel. Like he’s been punched right in the fucking gut. He’s enthralled.

“I wasn’t–you dropped it and I’m just giving it to you, I promise!”

She’s looking at John with big, doe eyes. She also looks freshly showered, wrapped in a black puffy jacket that makes her even smaller than she already is. John lets his eyes linger on her lips, so plump and glossy. Her voice sounds sweet, soft, something John isn’t used to hearing.

John can’t help but to stare.

“Are you–are you gonna let me go, mister?”

The way she stutters triggers a hot feeling in John’s guts, and can’t help but to rub his thumb on the girl’s dainty wrist before slowly letting her go.

So delicate, he could snap them in half.

“Sorry,” John apologizes, taking the coin from her hold, and his fingers itch at the way her skin feels so soft against his rough hands. “Force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles a little, and there goes that hot curl in John’s stomach once again. “That thing looks expensive so be careful next time.”

Just like that, John doesn’t get the chance to reply back. She makes her leave and patters away from him, and he watches. He watches until she’s out of the view, taking a turn to a corner, leaving John with something he can’t quite figure out yet, but he soon will be.

For the first time in a while, he feels something new.

Suddenly, everything is too good to be true.

John will find himself staring at his hands for too long, still feeling the ghost of her soft skin on his fingers, fantasizing about her pretty face and soft, plump lips.

It’s scary for him to feel something again because that only means destruction. John likes to believe he has a gift of ruining everything he touches, especially the pure ones – like her. It’s a proven statement. Just look at Helen and Daisy.

This little one won’t be any different, he’s sure of it. John’s whole body is heating up everytime he thinks about her. The look on her face when she saw John’s chilling expression, her wide eyes, so glossy and innocent.

John wants to see her again.

His fingers itch, yearning to touch her again.

Why he’s suddenly interested in a young woman he just met a few days ago, he has no idea. John’s a bit confusing – fucked up, even. He long accepted the fact that his mind is nowhere near healthy years ago. He tried to push those thoughts away when he met Helen, but now he’s out of his shell and back in business, there’s no need to.

He’s always been one of the wolves, and now that he’s laid his eyes on his next meal, he will make sure there’s not a single thing that will get in his way to hunt her down.

He had a crisis for two days before doing the unexpected. It didn’t take long for John to find her.

Now, John has been following her around for a week, and he noticed a certain pattern his little one likes to follow as she goes on her day.

The very place where they met is where she lives, surrounded by a bunch of goons who have no idea what to do with their lives. John begins to wonder why she’s living in a place like that. He could take her, put her somewhere safe, under his care and protection. Make sure no one will dare to lay a finger on her.

John knows where she works. At a veterinary clinic not too far from her apartment, which is why she walks to work every three in the afternoon, but not without stopping by in her favorite deli and getting a large order of her favorite sandwich. She’s a part-timer. She’d be at school from seven to twelve, and at work from three to eight.

John finds the little things she does amusing. He’d be seated in a cafe right across from her work, watching how she moves around her office through a big window, petting and cooing at the animals who come and go.

She’s so perfect, so pure, so naive. She has no idea that a monster is lurking ten feet away from her, watching her every move like a hawk, thinking about the ways he could destroy her, make her his.

John is not delusional. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing and he’s aware of what people might call him.

Stalker.

Creep.

They don’t know him though. They don’t know why he acts this way. They’d do the same if they were him, that’s for sure. He’s not the bad guy here, he’s simply just protecting her little one, even from afar. John went as far as destroying a whole Russian Bratva for a mere puppy and a car, he’d do even worse if she’s somehow taken away from him.

John sees her exiting the building and his first thought is to follow her. He stands up from his seat, the cup of coffee long forgotten as he makes his way out of the café and keeps a safe distance between the two of them. It’s risky, especially in the broad daylight, but John knows she’s too oblivious to notice.

She’s with her friends this time, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by John how she clings at the shirt of her co-worker as they cross the street, small hands fisting at the fabric. He thinks about how he won’t ever let go of her hand once she’s his. He’s not big on physical affection, having to grow up with no parents and a rather strict orphanage, but maybe he could be gentle. Engulf her hand in his, stroke it with his thumb, tuck her hair behind her ears, show everyone that she’s already owned.

They wouldn’t dare to lay their hands on her again.

John walks in the middle of the sidewalk, not bothering to move away despite seeing people approaching. He doesn’t need to, the look in his face is enough for people to give him the way. It’s interrupted however, when someone does try to get in his way, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back a little.

John clenches his jaw, pissed. He takes his eyes from his little one and on the person who so rudely interrupted what he’s doing – it’s Marcus.

“John? I was just looking for you at the Continental.” Marcus has a small smile on his face, clearly not aware of John’s expression.

His eyes dart behind Marcus, where his little one is supposed to be, but she’s gone. John feels something curl in his stomach, his fingers itching again, eyes rapidly searching for her in the sea of people.

He looks at Marcus again, deciding he’ll just find her later, but he worries that something might happen to her now that John’s attention isn’t on her.

“Why?” he almost snaps, voice deep and laced with no emotion.

“Why? Because it’s been quite some time, John. I haven’t heard from you since the Iosef situation, but I did hear you’re back in business,” Marcus replies, but when he sees how distracted John looks, his voice falters. “You working?”

“Yeah.” The lie comes off smoothly. “I’ll see you around.”

John taps Marcus’ shoulder, trying to sound as polite as possible even though he badly wants to break a couple of his teeth for taking his attention away from her. He knows Marcus is probably noticing something, but John’s never the one to care.

Marcus drops the subject. “Alright, John. I’ll see you around.”

With that, John disappears in the crowd with no looking back.

It’s been awhile since John last took a job.

He can’t seem to take his eyes away from his little one. He can’t stop fucking stalking her from morning to night time.

John’s afraid that once he takes his attention from her even for a second, something bad might happen to her. It’s engraved in his mind that she can’t protect herself and he’s solely there to be the protector.

No one would understand. He’s doing this for her own good.

John’s absence at the Continental doesn’t go unnoticed by Winston and Charon. They’re his favorite, after all. Watch his every move carefully ever since that ugly murder John did. Perhaps he could make his next kill even uglier. To them, it’s vile and grotesque. For John, it’s special and unique.

This time, it took a good self-beating before John decided to take a contract. Three million to hunt down a rival crime lord, nothing he can’t handle, but somehow it brings an unusual feeling on his shoulder he isn’t fond of. Perhaps because John’s leaving his little one for a while and he isn’t quite sure what to feel. Worried and pissed – but mostly worried.

That is why he hired someone to trail his little one on his behalf. Everyone in business would do anything for a coin despite how fucked up disturbing it is. John offered a generous amount of coins to keep the assassin’s mouth shut, but he also held him at gunpoint and gave him a good talk before he sent the dog out in the field.

His only job is to keep an eye on her, report everything he’ll see to John, and maybe even take pictures for safety purposes.

John has been overseas in the last three days, and everything that’s been sent to him has been his only form of entertainment. There’s videos of her giggling with her friends, videos and photos of her in the library, outside her school, her work, and even in her apartment. There’s also information sent to him about the background of her friends – every single one of them, because John didn’t pay so much for nothing.

There’s one particular friend that ticks off John in all the worst way possible. He’s young, around her age, and the way he hugs and touches her just fucking sets him off. John wants to break his fingers in half. He reminds himself that once he’s home, he’ll make sure to take care of that boy himself.

“What else have you got?” John questions through the phone, and it doesn’t take long for his precious dog to respond.

“Oh, he is one creepy motherfucker. I’m starting to understand why you’re so riled up with this guy, boss. The urge to strangle him every time he gets in the picture gets stronger and stronger everyday.” He hears a laugh at the other end. The guy that’s working for him – Alex, if he remembers correctly – is young, new in business, knows not to fuck with John so he keeps his job adequate. If Alex ever notice how fucked up John is for making him follow a young woman to keep his life in order, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Just tell me when I can shoot this guy and I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Leave him. Keep an eye on him, but don’t kill him,” John advises, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “I’ll handle him myself when I get back. For the meantime, focus on Y/N and keep any troubles out of her way. Fail that task and I’d serve your head hot on a platter.”

“You got it, boss.”

John is playing nicely.

He’s not going to force his way into her life. He’s gonna be welcomed, with open arms, desired.

There are times he’d thought about giving in to his desperation and act with his dick instead of his head. There are times he’d thought about following her to a dark street, where no one’s around, he’s on the prowl and ready to pounce. He’d put a fabric against her mouth and nose, laced with enough chemicals to make her pass out and for him to carry her in his car with no problems whatsoever. John thinks about how he’d make it look like he’s just picking up his very drunk and passed out girlfriend and no one would know a goddamn thing.

John would keep her in his house where she won’t need anything but him.

But of course, he’s not that cruel.

They’re only thoughts. Thoughts that he tries hard to keep away, but at the end of the day he reminds himself that he’s better than that.

John is not going to force his way into her life.

He’ll make sure to get her addicted enough to come crawling at his feet herself. She’ll be dependent on him, won’t be able to live without him. John will make sure his plan will go out smoothly or otherwise he’ll be the one bringing Hell with him on this land and seek as much havoc as he possibly can.

The death emissary himself will strike tonight.

A Friday night out with her friends has John on high alert. That’ll only mean she’s constantly surrounded with people, god knows what could happen if John even takes his eyes off her for a second. He lurks on the side, blending himself with the crowd as much as he can all while keeping his gaze on her.

He doesn’t need any drugs to keep his mind insane, because the sight of a specific man getting very close to what’s his is enough to make him visualize all the ugly and twisted ways to kill a man.

She’s wearing a thin silky dress that’s low on her cleavage and shows her perky breasts. She’s currently the flame in a room full of moths, John included. Everyone’s eyes are on her, observing the way she sways her hips and sings along to the loud music – John’s fingers itch.

The itch to kill is back again, driving into his veins, his hands twitch on the table. John wants to pull out his gun and shoot everyone in this fucking room. He wants to stab them in the eyes one by one and make them feed it to themselves. He wants to grab this guy on the neck and slam his head against the wall repeatedly until his brain scatter all over the fucking place and there’s nothing left for him to ruin.

This guy is getting on his fucking nerves.

John watches as the man smoothly brings his arm on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear that doesn’t make her look so impressed. In fact, she looks disturbed, uncomfortable, tense. Despite the guy being her friend, John could tell she doesn’t feel comfortable with the way he’s showing her affection.

It’s hard to see her like this, but he knows he can’t just jump in between the two of them and beat the shit out of the guy until he chokes on his own blood. He’ll have to wait, maybe after this party, he’ll strike and discard the body in a way that’ll make even Winston spook in his sleep. It’s not a major offense to kill a man that’s not in the game anyway – or at least that’s what John tells himself.

This guy wouldn’t be able to be three feet near his little one once John’s done with him. He’ll be six feet under.

John sees her swiftly moving away from his touch, trying to make her rejection look as polite as possible, which receives a not-so-amused reaction from her little friend.

This guy doesn’t deserve her at all. No one does. Except maybe John, but that’s because he knows he’s capable of actually taking care of her and keeping her safe. Nobody would understand what he feels, what he yearns, what he wants.

Good girl, John thinks. Walk away.

His gaze follow her as she makes her way to the backdoor and out to the cold air of the city. John follows in a hurry, keeping a safe distance between the two of them, then opens the door as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t let his presence known.

There are a few people on the street, either having a smoke break or making out against the piss stained wall, but she stays just beside the busy road as she wraps her arms around herself.

His gaze burn daggers on her exposed back, the urge to cover her up with his jacket and take her home. A drunk man comes stumbling out of the club, accidentally tripping over his steps and he pushes her hard enough to make her yelp as her heels lose balance and almost making herself get run over by a passing truck.

Almost.

Everything happens so fast. One moment John is standing five feet from her, the next is he’s grasping her wrists in his hand and pulling her back to her feet and dragging her back to the curb. He was already on the act once he saw the man exiting the club, he knew exactly this would happen.

The scene looks strangely familiar, one John could never forget. The same position, same hand placement, same rough fingers around her wrist and dark eyes boring into hers – their very first meeting.

“You!” she gasps, not caring about the fact that she almost just got hit by a fucking truck. “I know you! You’re the guy outside my apartment that day! What are you doing here?”

John stares. Predictable. Of course she’s talking to him like they’ve known each other for years. She’s too friendly.

“Hello to you too,” John replies, though his tone is blank as well as his face. “You remember me.”

“‘Course I do,” she giggles, a little tipsy, pupils dilated and licking her lips nervously. “You’re pretty hard to forget. I remember asking my neighbors around the area if you’re new there, turns out you were just visiting.”

John furrows his brows, hand still not letting go of her wrist. What does she mean by she’s asked around the area about him?

His face must’ve looked confused, he sees her grinning childishly. “It’s a coincidence that I see you again!”

Not a coincidence, but fate.

John doesn’t believe in a lot of things, but he believes in fate. Fate brought him Helen, and now fate is bringing him another angel. If she really went as far as asking the neighborhood about his existence, then it must be fate.

“I’m Y/N. I figured if we keep bumping into each other then you should at least know my name,” she says, completely oblivious that John already knows everything that has to be known about her. From her little mannerisms to the last name of her fucking grandmother. “May I know yours or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“It’s John,” he gulps, not wanting to look like a loser in front of her, not after everything he went through for her. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

He sucks at this. He fucking sucks at this.

“You haven’t answered my question, by the way. What brings you here?”

It hangs in the air, John lets go of her wrist. Luckily, he thinks fast enough and says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Work.”

“Ah, work,” she nods. “You work here? In the club? What are you, a bouncer or something?”

“I don’t. Someone I work with is in the club.” A lie, but it’s not like she would know. “We had a talk.”

“Not really a man of words, eh?” she raises an eyebrow teasingly.

“This is the most words I’ve said in the past few days,” John says. “I’d say you’re special.”

The look on her face is enough to make his entire night even better. Blushing, lips opening and closing, not knowing what to say. John wants to graze his thumb on her lips, thinking about how good it would feel stretching over his cock.

He blinks. Where did that come from?

“For someone who doesn’t talk much, you sure make it sound smooth when you do. Are you always this slick, John?” she giggles again, music to his ear. “That’s actually better than what I heard from my friend earlier, so thank you.”

“That’s good to know.”

Before she could say anything back, the door of the club opens once again and her friends appear, waving a hand at her and beckoning her to get inside. She looks at John, gives him a sympathetic look, as if apologizing that their talk gets cut off too soon.

“I’m really sorry but my friends want me back in there. Hopefully we can continue this again, yeah?” she smiles cheekily, tucking her hair behind her ear. “If you want, you could give me your number so we can talk someplace else? You know… with no one bothering us and all that.”

There it is. John didn’t think it would be this easy to sink the hook in. All he needs to do is pull and take what’s meant to be his.

“Sure.” He enters his number swiftly, feeling that familiar burn in his guts once again when he sees the wallpaper being her pretty face. “Feel free to message me whenever you want. I’ll make time for you.”

She looks at her phone and smiles before starting to walk away from him, waving a hand goodbye, but it doesn’t feel like a goodbye. John knows it isn’t. She’s already his the moment she started talking to him again.

“Of course! Get home safe, John! I’ll see you soon!”

“You too.”

She doesn’t know John won’t be heading home any time soon until he knows she’s safe and sound in her apartment.

Jay Lopez.

The name burns on his tongue. Bitter and resentful. He stares at the photos his precious dog sent to him and he has to stop the impulse to burn every single one of them.

Jay Lopez is the guy that’s been leeching on his girl since the dawn of time, and thankfully John is here to put an end to it.

He’s hideous. It’s interesting how John stooped this low that he’d be willing to kill a college student for being too near his little bambi, but alas, he’s never the one to care for such things. Morals and righteousness have never been in his book, not now, nor ever.

It’s only a matter of time until he gets rid of this pest. He’s fucking creepy, follows around not only Y/N but a bunch of other women.

John doesn’t want his death to be quick and simple. He wants to do it in an ugly way, make sure his body will never be found, make sure he’ll never get to lay his hands and eyes on what’s his. The way Jay stares at her in these pictures ignites something evil within John’s veins. It’s been awhile since he felt something like this.

“Alex.” he looks at his pet standing by the door, waiting for the next command. “Bring him to me alive.”

“Can I at least rough him up a bit?”

John doesn’t answer at first, looks back at the photos on his table. “Do what you want, just make sure he’s still breathing when you bring him here.”

“On it, boss.”

Truth be told, John doesn’t need a pet to order around for this job. He has himself – a labeled attack dog of the Tarasovs for years, their hellhound, chained and muzzled unless they need him to kill. He’s a one man army as some would say, he doesn’t need Alex running around doing tasks for him, but it sure does make the job a lot faster.

It’s not a way to downgrade his reputation nor skills to hunt, he really just needs this Jay guy gone as fast as possible.

On the same day, Alex manages to haul a very brutally violated Jay to the floor of his basement. He stinks, pants wet from piss and a face John is having a hard time recognizing.

“You said rough him up a bit, not make him look unrecognizable.”

“Same thing.”

Jay is sobbing his eyes out, his cries of pleas falls to deaf ears and John just wants to fucking bash his skull with his own foot. “W-who are you guys?! What the f-fuck did I do?! Get me out of here or I’ll tell the fucking police–”

John kicks him on the chin hard to stop the goon from rambling. “You’re not telling anybody any shit, tough guy.”

“So, what are you planning to do to him? Can I watch?”

“Can you handle it?”

Alex shrugs. He’s in the presence of the most dangerous assassin in the underworld, wouldn’t hurt to learn anything from his skills and techniques, doesn’t matter how fucked up it is.

John nods towards the chainsaw sitting at the corner of the room, and Alex turns to face him with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ, man. You serious? Last time I heard you’re a hitman, not a serial killer.”

“Same qualifications. Same thing.” John grabs the man by the arm then drags him to a chair. He takes a rope from the table and swiftly ties him up securely. “We start with the head, then arms and legs. It would be hard to put his entire body in a drum full of acid, so we need to cut him off one by one.”

Alex looks like he’s about to run off somewhere safe from what he’s witnessing. “You’re talking like you’ve done this before, holy fuck.”

John gives him a look, and Alex immediately shuts his mouth. Right. He’d done this before. This is completely normal.

“I’ve been following you for a while, Jay. You’re a creep who befriends pretty girls, then you’ll drug them and make them have sex with you,” John taunts, the sound of his heels hitting the concrete floor is enough to send shivers down his spine. “Is that what you’re also planning to do with Y/N? Be her friend and fuck her once she’s drugged up and vulnerable?”

It’s a bold statement coming from John himself since he’s no better man than Jay, but at least his intentions come from a different place.

“You-you’re fucking sick!” Jay spits.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one going around making girls uncomfortable now, am I?” he picks up the chainsaw, then watches in enjoyment as Jay widens his eyes in fear. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, Jay. You won’t be able to use your pathetic little dick of yours to any woman ever again, and most importantly –”

John fires up the chainsaw, adrenaline coursing through his veins when he sees the horrified look in the man’s face as he tries to get up and scream for help.

“I can finally sleep well at night knowing you’re not in Y/N’s life anymore.”

As John steps into the light, a roaring chainsaw in his hands, Alex could only watch in horror as the basement gets painted with blood in mere seconds.

There’s a vacant apartment just across her room, giving John the perfect view of what she’s doing while she’s alone.

Most of the time, John will pull up a seat beside the window and take pictures. The other half of the time is just him staring, observing. It seems that she’s too comfortable knowing there’s no one across the building so she doesn’t close the curtains, leaving John no choice but to keep his eyes on her.

He found this place just three days after following her. He couldn’t help it. Following her to school and work suddenly wasn’t enough for John that he had to find a way to somehow watch her even in her sleep.

He should be ashamed of himself. He should feel guilty for what he’s doing – he should stop, but he just can’t. John’s already done too much. This is like being pulled back into the underworld all over again but this time, there’s something good that’s waiting for him on the other side.

Maybe it’s the delusion that comes with it that’s not stopping John from whatever he’s doing. Lately, he’s been thinking about how life would turn out to be if his plan goes out smoothly. They’d live happily ever after, she would end up loving him just the way he planned it out to be, and John will make sure no one will ever dare to take those peace away from him again.

He’d make sure no one will ever come close to her again once she’s his. She’d be isolated but protected. Just how John likes it.

It’s been two days since John gave his number, but he knows she’s just giddy and nervous to text him. He’d seen her staring at her phone, biting her bottom lip anxiously, thinking if it would be a good idea or not. He knows she’ll give in one way or another because he sees it in her face. She’s too easy, too gullible, too naive.

She’s lonely, just like him.

John could tell she’s waiting for someone – she’s desperate, no wonder she asked for his number the second time they met. She wants someone to take care of her, to hold her, tell her that she deserves the world. That someone is John whether she likes it or not.

This isn’t just any unhealthy obsession. John finds himself too deep to get out. He knows her little mannerisms, studied her every action, has a red room full of her pictures and no one can’t say he’s not ready to give up anything for her. John has already given up his sanity ever since he mutilated a man for being too close to her.

She’s his life now, his everything.

John watches intensely as she shreds her clothes in her room, baring him the full view of herself naked, and John grips the side of his chair too hard his knuckles turn white. This is the first time he’d seen her naked, it’s so sudden and so… perfect.

His cock fattens in his pants as he observes every curve of her body. Her waist is fucking perfect and her body is thick yet delicate. John thinks about bruising her sensitive skin, leaving a mark that will show everyone that she’s owned. He would love to see her in a collar, hear it jingle when she crawls.

She’s completely fucking naked that John wonder just how naive she is to think there would be no one seeing her like this. What if John isn’t the only one watching her? What if somebody else sees her like this? His fingers itch, jaw clenching.

He’d kill them. He’d kill them in front of her, and the thought somehow made his cock hard even more. He grimaces, disturbed at the reaction of his body.

John doesn’t really understand the sexual aspects of killing, but now he’s thinking about how she would react if she sees him working. He’d kill someone in front of her and he’d see the look of disgust and betrayal in her face. He can already imagine how her eyes would well up with tears and fuck, his dick shouldn’t be this hard.

She’d fear him, and John would be turned on. How fucked up would that be? Just how fucked up can his mind get?

He resists the urge to wrap his hand around his cock because fuck no. He would not stoop this low, he is not a teenage boy. No matter how strong the thoughts get, the thoughts of wrapping his own hand around her neck, squeezing it hard and cutting off her airflow as John forces his cock in her cunt, hearing her mewl and scream and beg to just –

John sucks in air, eyes back on her in her room, wrapping a robe around herself and heading to the bathroom. This is fucked up. His cock is incredibly hard and leaking, and his mind won’t stop thinking about how good her pussy would feel around him.

He’d talk her through it. Whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she releases around her cock, praising her for being such a good girl. Then he’d fuck her again, in a different position, debauching her in different ways not even the devil himself could think of.

John would ruin her, and she will have no choice but to accept it.

He brings his hand to his face as he sighs deeply. He wonders what Helen would feel of what he’s doing. Disgusted, no doubt. This is not the same man she fell in love with years ago. He would never do something like this, but fate has its plans, and John believes everything happens for a reason.

She was brought into his life for a reason and it’s up to him whether he takes.

John doesn’t realize that he’s been staring at nothing for too long until she comes back in his view once again. Her hair is still wet, still wrapped up in a fluffy pink robe, and John’s fingers itch to grab, squeeze, possess.

He sees her picking up her phone, staring for a moment before her fingers start typing. John has been anticipating this moment for so long, the time has finally come.

In his chest pocket, his phone buzz silently, the vibration sending excitement in his whole body.

There it is.

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

There it fucking is.

John’s lips curl into a small smile. His efforts are finally paying off.

All he needs to do is to get what’s his.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick fanfiction #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick chapter 4 #john wick x you #john wick 4 #keanu reeves #john wick smut #ochl #my works

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dreamsinmoonlight · 4 months

Note

Dude, you could do a fic where the reader goes looking for Yandere Alastor at the end of the battle with Adam (where is he mad? Insane?... You know in the last ep)... The reader was worried about Alastor, but found him At the worst moment, maybe Alastor will collapse and go crazy... Maybe because he saw that the reader is also hurt? Or there is a revelation for him where he discovers that he is in love with the reader...

It's up to you, I just want to see a fanfic about it!!

(Here we go, I was thinking a lot about this one because honestly I love me a good old fashion insanity moment because of invocation of the "berserk button is hurting that person" trope. Mmmmm~

Modifying it a little just because I lean into the going insane because someone you care about is hurt (also I have another ask involving finding Alastor after the battle). So instead of being when he gets to the radio tower...

How about we rewind and let it be, oh, during the battle? Hehehe~

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Characters: yandere!Alastor, reader, Adam

Pairing: Alastor x reader

Genre:

Summary: The fight is raging but all you can think about is one very dangerous deer....)

Reckless Abandon

Hazbin Hotel was not falling without a fight, not if the residents and their friends had anything to say about it.

There were exterminators everywhere, angels everywhere and anywhere you looked. It felt, to you, as if the sky itself was falling, was being torn asunder, and though you knew that there was a shield, a barrier you believed in more than you believed in anything else, still something in the depths of your gut couldn't help but worry.

Someone screamed your name and you narrowly avoided a sword coming at you from the side, the mad flickering face of the angel who had tried to kill you so close you could almost make out each pixel in the mask they wore. By instinct you struck out and punched them, though some part of your brain understood it would likely do little; still they didn't seem to expect it from you and it connected, throwing them for a loop and to the ground for a moment.

"Good job toots!" Angel called out with one of those friendly grins of his that you could never help but return; he leveled his tommy guns and continued to shoot away, trying to bring down as many of the flying monsters as he could.

"Thanks Angel!" you called back and looked around; Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Cherri Bomb, Sir Pentious, even Nifty was running around stabbing admittedly already downed angels. But everyone was doing their best, fighting and honestly there seemed almost to be a chance, a small possibility, they could survive this. You could survive this.

You never meant to die and come to Hell, but no one ever did. Still in the years you'd been there you'd only ever felt actually happy at the hotel; Charlie was such a good kind person and Vaggie's devotion to her was heartwarming. It was never boring, never uneventful, and never anything less than a trip from the very day you came to their door, looking for a place to stay to get away from the far worse denizens than yourself. And somewhere deep down you'd admit, only to yourself, that what made you feel the happiest was the presence of one demon in particular.

You glanced up as you thought about him and almost immediately wished you hadn't. That shield that you believed so in, you saw with your own eyes it crack, you saw it break, and you saw the figure of the scariest of them all: Adam. He'd broken it down, he'd broken...

"Alastor's shield," you whispered, as the others saw it too, as it dawned on them what happened.

He was supposed to be able to keep it up, give them enough time to thin the herd more. No one expected Adam to be so powerful to be able to break something created by the Radio Demon, the Radio Demon. Alastor stood up to Lucifer, to the Vs, to other Overlords, he was the monster in the dark, the grinning Cheshire Deer Cat of Terror, and Adam had punched one of his barriers into nothingness as easily as he could have been punching a marshmallow.

That feeling of worry returned and it tasted of blood. You licked your lips and looked around. The others were worried too but all recovered, getting back to work, not letting this stop them. You tried to do the same, to remember the plan: if the shield went down then Alastor would take out Adam, keep him out of the fight largely so you all could handle the exterminator angels better. He was the most powerful of you, the most dangerous, the most vicious, he could handle this, he could do this, he...

He....

You looked towards the roof of the hotel, towards where you knew that cannibal Overlord was, where Adam had touched down and was now fighting him.

He was....he was too important. To you at least. You ripped a sword from a dead angel nearby and used it to cut through any other that got between you and the entryway to the hotel. You knew you were being stupid and reckless and silly because this was Alastor you were thinking about after all. But still, still, that bloody taste of worry had you and you couldn't get it to go away no matter how much you swallowed.

By the time you reached the roof things had reached a major head. Tentacles, shadows, a split second in which maybe, just maybe this would go better than the dread inside you predicted. But that colossal angelic asshole known as the First Man just had to be a dick and you stepped out in time to see him attack Alastor, breaking his staff and the confusion that filled you was matched by the unfiltered sound of the Radio Demon's voice. "What just happened?....Fuck."

"Alastor!" you called out and moved to try to get over to him.

What could you do? You were just a sinner, another of the souls trapped in Hell, prey to the angels, prey to the Overlords, prey to everyone. You weren't anything special, anything important, just another person who failed to be good in their mortal life and ended up down here instead. This was the greatest demon you knew and the most dangerous angel you knew of, and you, you were nothing.

But seeing Adam slash at Alastor, the Radio Demon go flying, be hurt, you narrowed your eyes and gripping tight the angel blade you'd stolen, you snarled with an intensity you weren't used to, an aggression you didn't know from within you. He stepped closer to Alastor, smirking, gloating, and not paying any mind as you came at him from the side, moving swift and deadly.

The blade dug in deep and the blood came a golden hue that should have beautiful if not coming from him. The grunt that came from Adam was less pain and more annoyance and he looked down at you like he might an ant. "What the hell bitch, you really want to fucking die first? Cuz I can totally do that for you."

For someone so big he moved quick. And his hand gripped around your throat tight, cutting off air and circulation very quick. Sinners shouldn't need to breathe, that was stupid, but you knew this sensation, you knew the feeling of choking and as he lifted you off your feet you struggled, let go of the sword to claw at his hands, to try to free yourself. His mask showed no more mercy than his troops did, the cruelty and sadism of beings who didn't even deign to show their faces when they came down to kill you; you reached out, wanting to at least see if you remove it, maybe scratch out his dumb eyes before he kills you. Give Alastor the time to get something done, to recover. At least you'd stopped this monster from hurting him.

Blood rushing through your ears as consciousness started to wane, you could have almost sworn you heard a chuckle, dark and familiar even without it's filter. Good. He was okay....

Adam was seconds from snapping your neck when a shadow tentacle lurched out and pierced his arm, forcing him to drop you. Already out like a light you fell limply but were caught by Alastor's own shadow that carefully held you in it's arms before returning to his side. The Radio Demon chuckled still, through the blood, through the pain, through the madness threatening to come forth as his form started to twist and deform, taking on his more demonic state.

"Have to disagree with you there," he hissed and smiled, feeling the changes, feeling the crawling of the Winter under his skin, the creature hungry, always hungry, and the chain that held him in place; the shadow moved to cover both of you as he continued, "Radio's not dead, but it is ending this broadcast."

Adam laughed through his own pain as the two of you were teleported away to safety and Alastor groaned as you reappeared elsewhere, hand over the gaping wound on his chest, trying to hold back the madness, the insanity, the Winter. His eyes slipped towards you in the process.

You should have not been up there, you were supposed to be out on the battlefield with all the others, with the fodder and the ones that mattered. You were a fool and an useless pawn, barely entertainment; you were not a monster, you were barely a sinner. You showed up at the hotel looking for sanctuary; you got along with them all and he found your presence....

Not unlikeable. Because you seemed to like him, knowing what he was, knowing who he was. You never treated him as anything less than a terror among demons but it didn't escape his attention how you perked up when he turned his usual gentlemanly facade towards him, as if he could ever be anything but to one of the fairer gender. But you never seemed like the type to try to face Adam knowing it could only be your death and the image of you moving at the much larger angel, sword in your hands, and your expression, it was burned in his chest.

You were not supposed to be there and you were not supposed to anything but something to throw at the angels to distract them, in hopes that Charlie would survive another fight. But the way you called out his name and the way your smile would shine when you looked at him, when he'd pet your head, when he'd tease and torment the other hotel residents, when he made all sorts of silly comments and puns. You, this stupid little sinner who didn't even really belong because what redemption was there for someone who wasn't even really a bad guy? What was your sin?

Alastor realized he didn't even know that one. It never mattered. You never mattered. But now you did.

The realization made his skin crawl more and he started towards the hotel again, arriving back after the battle, to his tower destroyed, to the rubble and debris and his own mind screaming.

He was a monster and he nearly died. He, the great Radio Demon, almost destroyed. For saving his friends. His friends. And then there was you and his mind raced more. No this could not be, no this would not be. The Winter and hunger under his skin crawled more and approaching his equipment he dug sharp claws into the metal, leaving gashes in his wake.

No.

Not him.

But yes. And there you were, still asleep, still hurt; he turned to look at you and saw the bruises on your neck and thought of you clawing at Adam, ready to go down fighting. There because of....

Him.

An emotion he didn't recognize crawled up alongside the hunger and he tilted his head before reaching out with those sharp cruel claws to draw them, all too gently, along your cheek. His smile twitched, his eyes narrowed.

" 'Altruistist Alastor, died for his friends'," he mocked himself, "I'll find a way around this damned deal, just you wait. But tell me little one, what is this emotion I feel creeping up inside me? If you created it I expect you to explain it."

You didn't answer. Of course not. He took you from the shadow and cradled you carefully in his own arms.

Whatever it meant, whatever it was, it made his madness feel both better and worse. The hunger was dispelling a bit but now all he could think about was you.

How strange.

#hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #okay maybe not as yandere as I've made him before?#also couldn't decide what kind of animal i wanted sinner!reader to be here #i mentally had a little bunny in my head

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yandere-sins · 1 year

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The Orcas' Tale - Lyr's Story I

And here he is, our sweetest, craziest, loveliest boy ♥ Honestly, it was fun giving Lyr a bit more personality than he had in the original story, and I am also glad to have provided him with a cute little darling of his own. I hope you guys enjoy slipping into the role of a mermaid, and ehem look forward to a different kind of spice (;

Fandom: Original Content Pairings: Yandere!Orca Merman x GN!AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Non-Con Kissing/Touching/Fingering, Bondage kind of), Violence (Threats to kill/harmm reader, Sharp teeth/claws, Almost tearing off reader's jaw), Monsters/Non-Human reader, Animalistic behavior, Mention of blood/claws/sharp teeth, Hinting at death/non-con, Feeding the reader seal meat, Being caught in a net, Long post

"They just won't stop bugging! Like, I get it, Mom, bringing a human into the pod was stupid and dangerous, but it's not our fault that Nerrocan left!"

Heaving a deep sigh, Lyr looked up at the water's surface through the holes in the ceiling of the cove he had found. Light was shimmering into the mostly calm water, a few tiny fish slipping in and out of the cave-like structure while he rested on his back, ignoring any wildlife of the ocean as he had no interest in small fry. They didn't get close enough to be caught, wary of the superior predators of the sea, who, unbeknownst to anyone's eyes, looked more like friends hanging out than what they really were—captor and captive.

Despite his annoyance and loud complaining, he looked tired. You had witnessed many a mood of his ever since he decided to hide you away for his own enjoyment, but as of late, every time Lyr visited you, he looked more exhausted than the last. As usual, his eyes were dull, and his dorsal fin collapsed. For an orca in his best years, he looked like he'd been dragged through the blue hell, but it invoked no sympathy inside you. All you could do was listen and observe, but knowing he was the merman responsible for your misery, you felt no pity for your clearly mentally unstable captor. Reaching to his left, Lyr picked another piece of meat from the seal carcass he had hunted, slipping the food into his mouth before continuing his rant.

"Who'd have known that guy had it in him. Can't help but respect him getting the fuck out of the pod, and I'm glad I don't have to see his wannabe goody two-fin face anymore. It's been getting harder to put him in his place with how aggressive he suddenly got."

"Won't they miss him?"

Lyr stopped chewing, his head falling to the side, facing you. Muddy purple eyes sprang to life, reflecting the light as brilliant as rare corals. With one big gulp, he devoured what had been left of his meal, a toothy grin spreading over his lips. "Look who decided to talk! Who's gonna miss him? His mommy? Sure. It's not like she has a dozen more just like him."

For a moment, you held his stare, watched the grin stretch wider, and twisted his expression into a grimace before you lowered your eyes, settling on drawing swirls into the sand. It wasn't like you wanted to have a conversation with him, but listening day in and day out to his crazy rambles and complaints was just as bovine as engaging with the madman.

"That's not very nice. I'm sure his mom loves them all equally. You've got a big family, after all."

"Nah," he retorted, shaking his head. Picking out a bone from the seal's body, he used it as a toothpick, cleaning out the sharp-edged teeth he loved flashing you. "Orcas aren't like yours. We don't love each other just because we share the same blood or come from the same mother. Either you're useful to the pod and do what you're told, or you're at the very bottom of the food chain. I could never be the same as Krill, no matter how hard I tried. He was always Mom's favorite, so now I just don't try anymore. It doesn't even matter to them where I am, but it suits me. Now I got a lot more time to spend with ya!"

Now it was your time to grimace while Lyr flopped onto his side and closer to you, surely noticing the tension growing in your body as you felt appalled by the ever-closing distance. He tossed the bone carelessly into the water while your movements abruptly stopped. You wished it was as easy as the flap of your fin to get away from him, but you were rendered helpless to his touch, unable to get away from his pointed finger dragging over your forearm, his claw teasing your softer skin. He didn't just have the advantage of size, but you knew that no matter how haggard he might appear, you'd be no match against him in a scuffle. Much less now that you were trapped.

And your growling stomach wasn't helping.

While you let out an exasperated groan, Lyr laughed loudly about your misery, finding your dependency on him to not starve hilarious. As much as you despised being at his mercy, you had no choice but to humor him if you wanted to survive, even when he enjoyed your reluctant behavior so much that he held his stomach aching from laughter.

"You could have just told me you're hungry!" he teased, grinning from ear to ear at you while you gave him an ashamed glare, staying silent as a stone in your spot, belly-down in the sand. "I don't mind sharing, ya know? There's still so much of this yummy seal left, it would be a shame to give it to the fish. You know what you gotta do to earn it, right?"

Gritting your teeth, you watched the smugness wash over his expression as he sent you into yet another predicament. You even considered eating a heap of sand instead of bowing to his will. As if being trapped wasn't enough, he just had to exploit you at every chance he got, and you hated how easily your survival instinct made these reckless decisions for you, which he'd never let you live down. The hole in your stomach didn't get any smaller. Lyr's last visit had been a few days already, and you were in no condition to hunt efficiently for yourself. So aside from small, stupid fish that came too close to you, you hadn't eaten outside of his visits, and it was starting to show.

You knew what you had to do. Unfortunately.

No matter how much your brain screamed at you not to, your body knew it instinctively, propping itself onto your forearms while you sighed inwardly, feeling defeated by your needs. Moving was the hardest part about being caught in a net. It was an unusual heavy net with clunky weights that had slung around your fin and lower body, dragging you to the ground where Lyr had found you. Even he had been surprised by the sturdiness of this net when he first inspected it but quickly had taken advantage of the situation, dragging you to this much more hidden place and out of plain sight so he had you all to himself. At least he didn't kill you; that's what you told yourself. But death was more merciful than Lyr, that much you knew by now.

He had no problem being patient when it meant watching you struggle as you dragged yourself toward him. Lyr didn't even mind you digging your meager claws into his skin when you grabbed onto him, using his body to support yourself while you lifted off the ground, close enough to feel his watery breath ghost against your face. Placing your lips over his, you flinched away in reluctance before forcing yourself to keep going, counting to three this time before twisting your head to the side.

Lyr hummed, sounding dissatisfied as you felt his hand brush up your spine. Nesting his palm at the nape of your neck, you refused to look forward again until he twisted his own head to find your lips, his much sharper, much more dangerous claws only curling into place the second he got what he wanted. Now, with an appreciative chortle, he relished in stealing another kiss, tongue swiping over your pursed lips until he found a hole in your defense, worming into your mouth.

You were no stranger when it came to mating habits, but compared to your fellow dolphins, Lyr was surprisingly gentle. He relished in your defiance but seemed to enjoy enticing little moans and gasps from you just as much. His tongue was a choking hazard in a mouth that wasn't fit to house it. Though you had gills, you could barely concentrate on breathing while you fought against him as best as you could. Still, he took his sweet time exploring every inch, letting air flow out of his mouth and into yours, never not considering you while doing what he wanted. He even softened his hold on you, rubbing his palms down your back in a spine-tingling motion when you stopped struggling against him. It was almost like he was rewarding you for good behavior, and it was sickeningly pleasurable.

But the taste of flesh and blood lingering on his tongue made your stomach growl, your body eagerly moving towards him, hoping to find food. All you gained was a chuckle before he nicked your lower lip with his sharp teeth in warning. Your fangs probably wouldn't be able to bite through his thick tongue, but despite this weird obsession he had with you, he was almost more wary of you than you of him. It seemed like he could never cut himself loose completely despite having nothing to fear from an easy target like you. He seemed so relaxed and unbothered whenever he visited you, but it was almost as if he was plagued by invisible ghosts whispering into his ears.

Despite his warning, you found his arms wrapping around your body, pulling you on top of him before you two rolled over to the other side, Lyr resting you gently down in the sand. He didn't care that the net that had trapped you to the ocean floor also got dragged over his tail, unbothered by possibly getting stuck like you were. Perhaps he simply didn't mind that thought as much as you did. To be fair, considering he was much stronger and the material had yet to wrap around and get stuck on his fins like it had with yours, it posed no threat to the orca. And yet, it was infuriating to you, who wanted nothing more than to swim away and reunite with your own kind.

Propping his arm in the sand next to your head, he looked down at you with a satisfied smile and a mischievous spark in his eyes but reached over you, grabbing a piece of seal meat. He brought it up to your lips, dabbing it against them, though you refused to open for him. "I can feed myself just fine," you reminded him, wiggling your hands in the air to demonstrate your ability to hold things before trying to take the food from him.

"Now, don't be ungrateful, or I'll bring you a turtle shell to gnaw on next time."

You could feel your face contort in disgust at his suggestion, reluctantly parting your lips to nib at the food dangling in front of your face. Once you had a taste of meat, your body couldn't resist, gobbling up every last bite hungrily while Lyr kept providing it for you with a smile. If he wasn't fast enough, your teeth would drag over his fingers, but he wouldn't even flinch or scold you, his fin slapping against the sand instead, almost as if he enjoyed your nibbles.

Seal wasn't your preferred food, but in times of food scarcity—like it has ever since getting holed up with Lyr—it was as good as any. The rest of the carcass was devoured faster than your excited stomach wanted, and you still didn't feel satisfied after eating every last piece. Had you been free, you'd have gone hunt for more without a moment of rest. But the gnawing hunger had subsided at least, and if Lyr came back again soon, you'd at least not have to endure it for too long until the next meal.

Pausing your thoughts, you realized you had just longed for Lyr to provide for you again soon, immediately turning the hunger into nausea as you pondered on it.

You were too quiet, too long for his taste as he sought out your lips again after your meal. Brushing his thumb over them, your instinct mistook his finger for more food. You could barely stop yourself from biting into his gnarly claw as the urge to eat won over again. However, your mouth was open long enough as realization dawned on you of what you were doing, for him to cup your face instead, turning it slightly to him so his tongue could lick over your lips and dip in again. Lyr hummed merrily as he tasted the seal on you, unashamed, unbothered by you struggling to keep him out, fingers wrapping around his throat—unsuccessful in deterring him. He was waiting for your breath to run out before taking the chance to deepen the kiss again, ever so patient with you.

"I think I get it now," he mumbled, breaking the kiss before leaving some more superficial brushes of his lips against yours. "Nerrocan was onto something. We just didn't know it."

"Why didn't you go with him then?" you mumbled back, turning your face away to avoid any more unwanted affection, even if it meant resting it in his palm.

To your surprise, Lyr scoffed loudly, and you flinched away as you could feel his mood shift. His palm didn't grow stiff and rigid. However, you still forced yourself away from it, too afraid he might—possibly on accident, but much more likely intentionally—rake his claws over your face, leaving wounds deep and painful. It was useless, however, as he used the same hand to collect your floating hair instead, forcing you to look at him while his gaze drilled into you with fury swirling in his eyes.

"Listen, I might not remember how we got to that place, but I know all the shit they did to us!"

You whimpered as he pulled your hair back, your neck struggling to keep up with his demands from your position. Lyr took a sharp breath, pausing the angry flashing of his fangs as he watched you cowering in front of him, ever so slightly calming down at the sight of fear flashing in your eyes. You hated him when he mocked you and also when he was delighted in your suffering. But you hated his anger more, his haggard body still crushing and his fangs and claws sharp despite whatever he went through. One bite into your throat, and you were a goner, especially with how exposed the soft flesh was to him now.

"I'll never go back there! Never! They cut us open, prod inside us with their disgusting hands, and inject strange fluids into me! They… They changed us. Changed me. And now I don't even know–"

His hand was trembling in your hair as he let out a shuddering breath. You caught his eyes for only a split second, watching the brilliant purple turn into mushy darkness. Lyr shook his head as if confused while his voice trailed off, his free hand rising as he hid his face from you for a moment. You weren't sure if you were supposed to say anything, and even if, what could you say to that? You had no idea what he's been through, and even though you had your fair share of struggles in your life, you never experienced something quite as dramatic as he described. Then again, why would you try to comfort him? Lyr was perfectly able to help you in your time of need but had refused cutting the net for you again and again. Why would you give him kindness if he refused to do the same for you?

Being free of his attention, your eyes fell lower on his body. Just shy of where your tail rested over his. With his tail flipped over, you had a clear view of his collapsed dorsal fin, a pitiful sight for any creature like you. It made you think that something was wrong with him in the first place, as this was an unusual sight on any of your kinds. If what he said was true, maybe this experience had done this to him, understandably so, as it sounded awful. You couldn't bring yourself not to pity him despite your negative feelings towards him.

Next to you, Lyr took a deep breath, pushing his short hair out of his face before he searched for your gaze. Desperately. Needy. Somewhere to ground him. You weren't sure what you saw in the darkened violet, but his features looked drained of vitality, as if the moment of silence had exhausted him completely. It made him look… vulnerable. But then he smiled again, his eyes lit up, and the strange feelings swirling in his irises were covered by excitement as he found yours, soaking in the sight before him.

"I really do get it now," he admitted, grin parting his lips, revealing his protruding upper left fang, the sharpest of them all. "I was so confused about the strange looks Nerrocan gave the human, but I realize I've been the same with ya—whatever it means. I keep coming back here just to see you. I want to stay right here with you, forever. Just us two. I'll hunt for us and make this cave pretty. Whatcha think, lil' dolphin?"

"N-No, I don't think that will work," you mumbled, averting your eyes again as his gaze became too intense to keep up the eye contact. He seemed to drill into you as if to excavate your soul and lay it bare for him to tease and enjoy. You didn't like it one bit when he looked at you so intensely.

You could tell by now that he was working himself into another ramble, but you didn't like how much it focused around you. Usually, he was complaining about his situation in his pod and how much his mom hounded him with expectations. Lately, his rants focused more on the human and Nerrocan and the waves their arrival and disappearance caused in their family. But while he was always strange when it came to you, being the sole focus of his attention felt uncomfortable.

"I'm not sure I understand, but my pod is probably searching for me, and I've been away for so long already. They probably miss me terribly! If- If only I could get the net off, I wouldn't have to bother you at all! I'd be gone before you know it, and you wouldn't have to look after me! I'd be fine! Maybe you can try cutting it again with your claws, or… or maybe--"

Lifting your torso from the ground, you grabbed the net at its highest point, tugging at it and trying to loosen it up. You realized it was you who was rambling this time, but the conversation had taken a turn that you didn't want to make reality at all cost. You couldn't imagine yourself being this guy's pretty little cave warmer for all eternity, preferring the roughness of your own kind over his madness. Orcas weren't known to be gentle housemakers, no matter how much Lyr tried to sell it to you. Not even when he handled you gently, yet never did what you wanted.

However, you were surprised when he reached down to the net, yanking at it with you. A yelp escaped you as he pulled your tail over his, the net cutting into your flesh painfully as he twisted and pulled until you had to fold up your tail, getting more and more caught. Nets usually weren't as much of a problem to sirens, but this one was sturdier and heavier than any fishing net you had encountered in your long life.

So when Lyr caught your hands in it, you began to panic.

"Wait! I'm getting wrapped up in it! Please stop, this isn't helping!" Your plea was ignored as Lyr slung the grating material over your wrists a few more times, ignoring your thrashing and panic with the calm of someone who had all the time in the world. Who had nothing to fear, especially not you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to make him understand you wanted to get out of the net and not strung up in it more until he was done messing with you, flipping you over and pulling you close against him.

"That's not what I meant," you sobbed as he rested his head on top of yours, only cushioned by the arm he lent you as a headrest.

"Isn't this so much better?" he asked, feigning innocence. But you couldn't believe his audacity to make you even more miserable. It was as if he wanted to make you as miserable as he was. "This way, you can't leave without my help. And I doubt your little pod will find you here."

"I just want to go home," you mumbled, anger slowly overtaking as the panic subsided. Your hands were bound tightly, your fin being the one hurting when you tried to lift them and vice versa. You felt truly trapped, and that made you angry rather than sad. It was strange, considering how, just a few minutes ago, you had almost pitied this male, but now, all you felt was rage.

"It's your home, now. Our home. We'll live here, unbothered by others. Just the two of us."

"It's not my home! Let me go!" you snapped, lips pulled back in a snarl. Dolphins were by far not the scariest predators, but your teeth were sharp and threatening as well!

Or so you thought.

Lyr laughed at your display of a threat, seemingly amused that you were still fighting him. Without warning, he raised his hand to your face, squeezing both sides of your jaw until the pressure forced you to open it, and stuck his pointer and middle finger inside. He only needed these two to press your tongue down, your mouth wide agape with his claws scarily close to the back of your throat. You tried to close your jaw, bite down until he'd retract his hand, but Lyr didn't care. He didn't even mind your teeth digging into his flesh, leaving cute little cuts against his slick skin.

"Careful, lil' dolphin. You're not in a position to make such scary demands of me, don't you know that already? I could kill ya."

Unafraid of getting hurt, the pressure on your lower jaw increased, fingers purposely impaling themselves on your teeth while pain made you jolt as you felt your jaw dislodging slowly. You wiggled your trapped body, gurgling against his fingers before finally looking up at him as best as possible from your position, noticing the smug grin on his face.

"I won't, of course."

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, dragging out the motion until the last moment, you coughed, the taste of his blood on your tongue. There was no time to recover as Lyr nuzzled his face into the side of yours, oblivious to the thrumming in your jaw as you tried to relax it while the blood flow resumed.

"You're too much fun alive, so I won't kill you," he admitted, grabbing your hands that rested against your chest and pulling them down, elevating some of the strain on your tail, and you finally breathed out. "But if you want to get rid of the net, maybe we can find a way to make this even more fun?"

You felt his lips sink to your cheek, your jawline, then trailing down your neck. A kiss for every one of your gills. The water around you was gentle and warm, but at that moment, it was like jumping into the ice-cold ocean after sunbathing on the surface, shocking and shivering through every bone of yours.

While the arm your head rested on wrapped around your collarbones, holding on to your shoulder, the other hand started to wander lower. His fingers played around with the net, cutting through some of the squares until he could stick his hand through it, placing his palm on your stomach before sinking it dangerously low and pulling your hands down with it. So you wouldn't be able to grasp his arm on top, trying to make him stop as Lyr nibbled on your earlobe, the protruding fang drawing blood that he licked up without hesitation.

"Stop that!" you complained as his touch grew uncomfortably intimate, the pain in your jaw reverberating as you spoke. It had long dawned on you what his definition of 'fun' was, but you weren't as naive as to believe he'd actually stick to his word and cut you loose after getting what he wanted. It was better not to risk it than risk it for nothing. Your kind wasn't known to be gentle to their chosen lovers, but you never thought about mating with an orca. It wasn't normal! Wasn't what you were made to do! And if you were to survive it… you didn't want to think of the carnage that all of him would leave behind on your body.

If his size was any indication, you were sure you couldn't take him without getting absolutely ruined in the process—and not the pleasurable kind of destroyed. More the ripped apart and bleeding out type.

His hand found your slit, fingertip brushing lightly yet incessantly over it, leaving a tingling trail in its wake. You whimpered, ashamedly so, but instead of the expected mockery, you felt his chest rumble, a purr reaching your ears. It was soothing, relaxing, his body warming you from behind even as you desperately tried to deny feeling anything from his touch.

But Lyr wasn't stingy with his surprises.

A chirp so oddly familiar resounded behind you, yet you were sure you had never heard that voice before. It took you a moment of complete stillness to realize it had been Lyr making that sound, yet it wasn't orca. It was dolphin. "How did you…?" you gasped, ignoring his inquisitive fingers prodding at your entrance, begging to be let in without having to use force.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, lil' dolphin," he hummed, imitating some more whistles and clicks that were perfect and comforting, like the calls of your pod, yet were spoken by an uncanny voice. You felt the tears well up in our eyes again, as you couldn't help but gasp, following it with a moan, his finger slipping into you, teasing the soft, warm flesh awaiting him there. Lyr let out an appreciative sound that made your core clench with desire, all praise and all dolphin for letting him in.

"You don't even like me," you gasped, hands wringing in the net. You were completely and utterly caught in this trap, and he had free range to your body while slowly gaining access to your very soul by imitating your own kind's calls of desire and adoration. Lyr's mouth pulled taut in a big grin as he felt you unwillingly relax and shudder in his arms, your tail buckling into his hand. You looked up to see the madness dance with satisfaction and need in his eyes before he leaned down to kiss you.

"That's where you're wrong, lil' dolphin," he chuckled, kissing you one more time, long and with relish, his fingers playing with you, adding one after the other as you loosened up to him, exploring the depths not meant for an orca.

"I like you very, very much."

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hijinks-n-lowjinks · 24 days

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thoughts on 268 and megumi

This post is going to be a long discussion of how I interpret Megumi's situation with both Sukuna and with Yuuji. I do detail some of my own experiences with mental health and how my interpretation of the chapter and Megumi's characterization are influenced directly by it.

(tw: discussions of depression/mental health/suicide/suicidal ideation)

First of all, people respond and interpret and react to media/stories differently. Just because someone has a different take than you does not mean that they are wrong! Those feelings come from a very real place and it's important to process and converse about media with that sort of empathy in mind.

Moving on to the actual analysis part, there is one central theme and framing that I'm starting to believe gege has intended to use Megumi's situation as a metaphor/allusion for: mental illness/suicidal ideation.

Megumi is trapped within himself, stuck in darkness that he can't seem to find his way out of by himself. His condition only grew worse and worse the longer he spent time stuck in his own body to the point where we began to see a lot of self-destructive tendencies and suicidal ideation from him. He didn't care if he lived or died, the most important thing to him was to just stop feeling everything that was hurting him and for the others to stop working so hard and putting themselves in danger to help someone he believed wasn't worth the effort.

We see Sukuna trying to convince Megumi not to fight back and to give in to his control. He throws accusations at Megumi that we as the audience know are manipulations of reality, but they are the words that someone dealing with depression will hear from their inner worst self no matter how twisted they are from reality.

The twist here is that Megumi tells Sukuna that he has never intended on living a life he personally cares about, but that he's going to continue to let the people he loves anchor and tether him to life.

And then Megumi is literally pulled from the darkness through the actions of someone else/someone who loves him. Yuuji is fighting for Megumi and his words and actions have finally made an impact and helped Megumi fight back.

And the crazy thing is, Sukuna chases after him. Depression and mental health are constant struggles even after recovery. It feels like there's a constant pressure not to backslide into bad habits and spiral back down the depression rabbit hole. Mental health struggles will always linger, but that's why we have to fight back and choose to want to get better.

The biggest divide in the fandom reaction to 268 is Megumi's words "just once more, I want to try living for someone else."

Now, I think the words "I'm doing to live for someone else" have been taken so literally by people that they think it means "and therefore I am not living for myself." Those two things are not opposites, but go hand in hand!

I can agree this decision gege made for him is not as satisfying as Megumi choosing to live for himself, but I do believe this was a purposeful decision and that it is the most realistic choice for someone in Megumi's position.

Not to get too specific, but for a couple of years the only thing keeping me from a complete spiral into an actual contemplation of suicide was because of my relationships to other people. I stayed alive because of them. I barely took care of myself and basically forced myself to do the bare minimum because I knew that somehow there were people in my life who wanted me to live.

I could not live for myself. I did not care for or love myself in the slightest, so why would I try to make my life better? The only reason I actually started caring about myself was because other people cared for me first. They told me I was loved, that they enjoyed spending time with me, that I was someone who would be missed if things ever did go south.

That's why Yuuji being the catalyst behind Megumi's decision to fight was so impactful to me, because Megumi was me.

Megumi's decision being influenced by his relationship with Yuuji instantly reminded me of one of my favorite monologues from Fruits Basket where they discuss self love and how choosing to care about your own life isn't as simple as many neurotypicals often make it out to be. It's a scene that was heavily impactful to me when I was going through my worst times and I feel like it really puts Megumi's choice to live for the sake of others in perspective.

"There was a time when I stopped talking, like you. The reason was a little different, but I think the feelings of shame and self-hatred are similar. Your teacher advises you to “love yourself”. What does that even mean? “Look for good points"… how is someone supposed to find those? I only knew the things that I hated about myself. The whole reason we despise ourselves is because we can only see the parts we hate, so forcing ourselves to find good things feels pointless, like we'd just be making them up. It's a nice sentiment, but it’s not always that simple. Instead, I think it's when someone else says they love you that you're finally able to begin to love yourself. When someone truly accepts who you are, that's when you can start to forgive yourself and suddenly see the good things you've had all along."

This scene hit me hard when I first watched it. It was exactly what I needed to hear: that I wasn’t weak and pathetic for not being able to see a future for myself on my own. I wasn't weak because I had to rely on the support of others to keep my head above water. I wasn't weak because I needed their love and praise to enable me to see those very same aspects about me that they loved!!!

Living for the sake of others is not the end all be all of recovery. That is merely the first step: recognizing that you are loved and that you want to live because others want you to live. That is not where recovery stops! It's a long, arduous journey where you eventually have to choose to live for yourself because you want to. But sometimes that decision is so daunting and feels so impossible when you're in the thick of it that it can completely crush your spirit.

When you're at the end of your rope, it's the people you love who tie you back down.

In my mind, Megumi didn't choose to fight or live only because of Yuuji. Yuuji was the catalyst, but not the entire purpose. Megumi heard that he was loved by someone, and because he loved them in return he chose to fight. He wanted to experience that love and thus show Yuuji that he was loved in return by fighting to stay with him.

#super long post but i hope I was able to voice and explain everything well? It's just really hit me that the situation with megumi/sukuna is #very reminiscent to my own struggle with mental health and that's where I feel like I can really identify and appreciate the choices made #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro megumi #jinx talks

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felixora · 2 months

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Anders discource

I forgot to post this here as well, lol

This kinda turned into a small essay…. Which is to be expected, it is Anders’ discourse after all.

This text is a personal view of the DA discourse, that is often summarized in fandom circles as “Was Anders right?”.

So let's start with this question: which is better, a peaceful or violent revolution? The answer is: both, depending on the severity of the situation.

I'm sorry to break your sweet dreams about “peace and love”, and “only peaceful revolution are justified” — but that's just delusional.

While I do believe that peaceful revolutions are the best outcome for both sides of conflict, more often than not they are impossible specifically due to unwillingness of the oppressors to seek true compromise. Because where the marginalized might achieve something slightly better for themselves, the oppressors lose the most important thing for them — they lose control.

And then the only thing that's left is a violent revolution. Or, well, death.

The rule of “turning the other cheek” does nothing but perpetuates further violence, when you're dealing with an oppressive regime. Because while the marginalized side often considers the middle ground with their oppressors (just for the sake of “making things better than before, while not risking the full annihilation by a stronger force”) the oppressors have only one in mind: “We want you fully gone, because you oppose our rule. You are a danger to us”.

The thing that I learned in past 10 years is that — ”Pacifism is a privilege”. And those who are oppressed don't have said privilege. They either fight or they die. Sometimes slowly (for ex. by assimilation), sometimes rapidly (in a massacre).

The thing that genuinely baffles me in the whole Anders' discourse, is the fact, that people forget or ignore that he for years tried to do the peaceful revolution. The Mage Underground was a way to get the mages from the dangerous environment, without engaging in the direct confrontation with the Templars. The manifestos on why mages should be free and letters to the Divine herself regarding the same issues that Circles pose — all of these are methods of peaceful resistance.

Now, remind me again, did these actions have any effect on how Templars or the Chantry treated mages? Maybe they revaluated their stances, did a thorough investigation of the possible mistreatment of their charges?

Oh, yeah — IT DID NOTHING.

No, not even that — the things started to get worse and worse, actually.

Any time the Grand Cleric “calmed things down” — the status quo remained. They didn't try to investigate the concerning situation in the Kirkwall Circle or any sort of rumours of abuses by the Templars. No, the Chantry for the most part closed their eyes to these rumours, and when the number of rebellious mages went up, the only thing they considered — was to organise a crusade (an Exalted March) against the Kirkwall. Nevermind, that most of the mages from the Circle and as fugitives were a faithful Andrastians, despite the conditions they were put through by the Chantry.

But of course, “the Chantry is just a religious organisation, it shouldn’t be targeted in such situations”...

So, back to the Templars — they didn't get their wish of cutting down all the mages under their care right there and then. But they sure as hell were allowed to continue to physically and psychologically torture, push mages to their breaking point, and commit any abuses they felt like doing to their charges.

In all of this, the Chantry poses as an enabler and the cause of the laws against mages in the first place. Not to mention that Chantry was responsible for the creation of the Templar Order, and they are subservient to the Divine.

By the 3rd act of the game we have a conformation, almost right away, that Meredith send a letter to the Divine requesting a Right of Annulment.

It's not anymore a question of “if the Divine will approve of this” — she might have said no, it's true. But our characters don't know that. They see the situation, where every peaceful attempt to reach a resolution was met with silence or threats of violence. With all due respect — only a fool hopes for the better and does nothing in such a situation.

This becomes a question of “when will it happen”.

When the oppressors say “I will murder you” you don't go “How about we talk”.

When you propose a dialogue and the opposing side says "No" over and over again, while continuing to tighten up the leash around your neck, the only right action is to fight back. If you fight — at least you have a chance of surviving. Otherwise, — it's death. Slow or quick, depends on the choice of the oppressors.

Another important thing, is that revolution doesn't happen on the shoulders of one person. It needs people. And those people need to believe that the idea has at least some chance to come true, they need to be inspired.

Inspiration not always comes through well-put speeches preaching kindness and unity.

It also can come through acts of violence, if said violence is turned against the oppressors. It shows, that they CAN BE BEATEN.

And Anders’ actions inspired people.

Anders tried his voice, he tried to reach the society in general with his arguments. That didn't work.

He tried to bring change with the Mage Underground, to recruit his friends (Hawke and the party) to join his active efforts of fundamentally changing things — that didn’t work as well. (while the friend group acts uninterested and uninvested in Anders’ righteous cause, Hawke might constantly and only suggest diplomatic solutions, which at the time were already useless and only maintained the status quo)

So the next closest thing is an act of violence against the Chantry — to show all those mages, who are still doubtful, who are scared, who think there is no hope — you can fight back and make it hurt.

What was called “compromise” from the Grand Cleric was maintaining the status quo, where mages in the Circle were still suffering the abuses, while the Templars simply weren't allowed to make them all Tranquil.

How the fck is that a compromise?

If you didn’t get it already — I am a big supporter of action, when it comes to revolutions and fight against oppression.

While acting is always a wild card (you have no idea, what reaction you might get from your oppressors, if you'll receive any support from “external forces”, if the luck will be on your side) — it always brings change.

On the contrary, inaction — leaves your fate in the hands of the oppressor. They might be merciful, they might be cruel — what happens to you and your people in such situation depends solely on their wimps. In many cases — the status quo remains, nothing changes.

The Chantry personnel was part of the problem. For years, they did nothing to investigate possible misuse of power within the Circle, that obviously perpetuated further and further rise of temper among mages.

They stayed silent on the issues of Ferelden refugees, leaving them to fend for themselves in the slums (while obviously holding significant part of the influence in the city).

They obviously took part in less than peaceful instalment and fight against neighbouring religions (see Mother Petrice and the Qun).

And, returning to the topic of mages, they perpetuated as part of their official teachings demonisation of mages as a whole, purposely ostracizing them from society and creating an impossible conditions to fight against. Their word was the law. And even if the mage had a compelling argument for their case — without even a bit of approval from the Chantry, they wouldn't have a chance of bending the society to their side.

So, the Chantry is just as guilty.

Another thing that needs to be considered in this topic are the casualties among civilians as a result of Anders’ violent protest. Because in the aftermath of the explosion there was 100% injured or dead among civilians. One might argue that they are just as gullible, turning a blind eye to the obvious misdeeds by the Templars and apathetic response by the Chantry (all it takes for evil to fester, is for good man to stay silent, after all) — but that still doesn't make their deaths rightful or expendable.

Anders had to make a choice — either them, or the mages.

They are the collateral damage of this conflict. One, that could have been prevented, if the oppressive side agreed to at least a compromise with the oppressed. But they didn’t.

And as a result, Anders had to take actions to unsure at least some fighting chance for his people, for the mages. The sad thing for me, personally, is that he will be the one to live with the burden of this choice, and not the personnel of the Chantry or the Templars, as they didn’t consider themselves guilty.

The other side of this story could have ended with Anders staying silent, Meredith putting into motion the Right of Annulment and then the Chantry sweeping what happened under the rug (which had a high chance of turning the story to the path, where revolution among mages happened decades later or even didn’t happen at all).

And that would have been the consequences of his choice as well, though a much worse option if we're considering that Anders made it the purpose of his life to bring change to the system and protect his fellow mages.

Another thing that is often brought in discussion is that Anders should have chose the Gallows as his target. In this scenario, there would have still been casualties among the civilians (consider the debris falling from the sky), as well as guaranteed deaths among the mages and tranquil (all were located in the Gallows). Anders wanted to give them a fighting chance, not kill them right away.

So selecting the Chantry as his target to shift the general power balance in the conflict and send a message to both the institution and mages across Thedas — is absolutely logical.

Other thing that makes no sense — is the lack of mages who actively sided with Anders' actions while remaining on the defence against Templars (not that weird shit about creating 2nd Tevinter in the Hinterlands)

Because that's how it went with revolution in my country. We have some people who regret the revolution (even now), we have those who are apathetic to it, and we have those who believe in it wholeheartedly.

People died for their beliefs in this revolution, and both them and those who advocated for a more proactive approach and survived were idolised by numerous people afterwards.

Some rightfully so, some less. But it still happened.

They are considered heroes, EVEN THOUGH we also had an invasion of part of our country from our neighbour as a result of this revolution. And in latter years, we are now defending ourselves from a full-scale invasion from the same oppressive force that was largely responsible for the reasons we had a revolution all those years ago.

The majority of people in my country would still, without a doubt tell you, that the revolution and the subsequent violent fight for our future was the right course of action. Even now, knowing how things turned out for us.

Because it brought change. It gave us hope that we can be that force of change.

So when the DA tells us, that there were barely any mages, or relatives of mages who were taken from their families, who considered Anders' actions justified and idolised him into this heroic persona — I call bullshit on that.

That's simply not how things turn out in these sorts of situations.

Many held grudges not only against Templars, but the Chantry as a whole. Many spend their lives in hiding or locked away from their loved ones. The voices of many were never heard, no matter who they appealed to — and then comes this mage, who dealt an irreparable blow against the authority of the Chantry, who challenged their rule and told everyone “the time for compromise has passed, it is time to fight”.

Are you telling me people won't idolise that? Span a ton of rumours and legends around his figure?

I highly doubt that.

I have genuine criticism of Anders as a character — his racist towards elves views are hard to miss. The occasional misogyny (if we're taking Awakening into consideration as well) is also present. All of that can be explained by the upbringing in the Circle and under the Chantry, but it is NOT an excuse, and these are genuine flaws of his personality.

That being said, you don't have to be a perfect victim for your suffering to be acknowledged, related to and your fight against oppression to be supported.

“Oppression” is not an achievement, that you unlock only after reaching certain standards.

It simply exists.And not only you can fight it, but you must.

#da2 #anders

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bougiebutchbinch · 10 months

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I do appreciate 'softer' interpretations of canon where everything is happy and nothing hurts. I think these headcanons and rewrites of characters have a huge and important place within fandom. This is not to say anything against people who prefer this sort of content.

But.

When I love a fucked-up character, I love the whole character, warts and all.

So.... a massive grateful shout out to the writers and creators who acknowledge that Ed was abused by his father, but don't shy away from the fact that Ed struggles to care for his crew. Thanks to the writers who acknowledge that he made terrible abusive choices towards his crew that there would realistically be consequences of, but this doesn't mean he's beyond changing - he can still choose to do better and can confront his own actions & his fear of becoming his father. He is worthy of love and support throughout this journey (though this absolutely shouldn't be expected to come from his victims).

Thanks to the writers who acknowledge that Stede survived his father's abuse and some truly atrocious childhood bullying - but also remember that he is a cis white ablebodied man born to extreme privilege, who needs to be reminded on occasion that piracy is not a game and that his crew are the lives he is gambling with when his plans veer even more dangerous than normal. That he started off as a class tourist, and is still very much learning what life is like outside of his circle of the landed gentry, even if he's throwing himself into piracy with adorable enthusiasm.

And thanks to the writers who portray Izzy as a victim of Ed's abuse, as he is in canon, and who also continue to depict him in all his twisted, messy, bitter glory: a man inured to violence, who warped himself to fit a crueller world of piracy than the one we see in the show, who enabled many of Ed's darker choices in S1 and pre-canon (although... he didn't make him do shit. 'I fed your darkness' =/= 'I made you abuse your crew, myself included', holy crap). Who is still learning to accept the kindness of others without biting every outstretched hand. Who was an imperfect man and is an imperfect survivor, but is a survivor nevertheless.

In short: Gimme all your flawed 'unloveable' characters, and watch me love them anyway.

#the izcourse #izzy hands #blackbonnet #steddyhands #ofmd #our flag means death #ed teach #ofmd stede #the edcourse #stede bonnet #ofmd izzy #ofmd edward teach #gentlebeard #my thots #fandom meta #ofmd meta

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christinebloodwrittings · 7 months

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Till' death do us apart.

Pairing: Angel Y/n x Alastor Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Warning: Biblical nonsense. :}

Masterlist –– Next chapter

So this was caused by the absolute brain rot my love for the series has given me, 40% of the text I got it from the transcript of the first episode Overture, and Michael's text was brought by Hazbin Hotel: Journey to the Light, shoutout to the creator. It's a one time thing as to bring this sort of prologue.

As always, the characters mostly belong to Vivienne Medrano, and it is a fanfiction with no intention of offending anyone.

Prologue

At the beginning, Heaven rose from the light of creation, it´s golden glow soon was to be known though out existence. It was ruled by beings of pure light, Angels that worshiped good and shielded the world from all evil.

Samael was one of the first angels. He was a dreamer with delusional ideas for all of creation, for this, he was seen as a menace. The elders of Heaven were brought to the conclusion that his way of thinking was dangerous to the order of their world.

The straw that broke the camel's back was when its creation, the forbidden fruit was placed in the hands of a mortal woman, this made the high command make the decision to banish Samael from heaven, causing the creation of the demonic place known years later as Hell.

The word 'Hell' was derived from an Anglo-Saxon word hellia, that meant wicked or evil.

Samael’s wife, the first human woman ever created, Lilith, thrived with the decision. After being banished along with her husband, she empowered demon-kind with her voice and her songs. And as the numbers of Hell grew, so did its power.

To say Heaven was threatened by that fact was an understatement, according to the paperwork Adam - the first human man and soul to enter heaven – left, I was able to discover that the overpopulation was being handled through an extermination, a massive genocide is a correct termination. What I found interesting, was that the procedure ruled out hell-born beings, no exceptions, and no precedents of any contract with Samael or any form of power known to rule in hell.

To think Adam’s heart was so big that he decided to condemn only human souls, sparing “innocent” hell-born beings, is moronic. But as soon as I started to leave my obligations unattended to uncover the mystery of the excess of blood in the hands of the high command, my actions were noticed by Michael, the archangel of light.

“Demons... It seems as if I can never catch them all and destroy them, and their numbers continue to expand, corrupting the minds of mortals” he scoffed, picking up his cup of tea, “That’s no reason to go down and take their lives, if you’re so concerned about them corrupting mortals, shut down their access to portals-“ he interrupted me hitting the table hard, breaking the saucer on which he placed the cup, his voice became distorted and his eyes widened around his head, trying to intimidate me.

“They are sinful beasts who rejected our light so we help remove them from it and keep them in the shadows of Hell. We allow them to live, an example of the angel's merciful will, but their population must be... controlled, until they cease being an annoying, persistent thorn in the side of our family” he hissed.

“Our family, was pushed down a hole and since then, no one, not even you, has tried to establish any contact, don’t you think it’s almost an insult that Adam saw Samael before us? Because I do”

“You seem to have a clouded judgement” he adjusted his glasses with a stern movement.

“It’s as clear as ever, I go to earth, I see the souls go either up or dragged down, you’re the one that is clouded because you haven’t witnessed any of their pain” my blood boiled causing my aura to manifest around me.

“Watch your words” he warned, his eyes flaring in a blue from of flame.

“I can't wait for him to find out, and what will be worse for you, is that everyone will know that you agreed to this from the beginning” I snickered, it was wrong to provoked him, but I felt as if I had the upper hand on him.

I wish someone had warned me of how wrong I was.

“You were the only “no” that day, you were the only one to try to defend his ideas” he thought out loud.

“So?” I asked confused, reaching for the door.

There was a shrill sound, the next thing I knew, I felt a horrible pain in my back, also heat, the air was humid and hot, a smell of blood between fresh and thousands of years old. I don't know how long I was face down in the dirt, I was only able to get up when the pain stopped enough and I was able to move to dry my tears. The dry, arid land under my hands and the sign in front of me confirmed my suspicions.

Son of a bitch had thrown me into Hell.

#alastor x reader #alastor #radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbin spoilers #hazbin hotel season 1

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zuko-always-lies · 5 months

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List of Azula AU/fic ideas

Better parenting Ursa

Azula raises Katara AU (and continued) and more

Azula and Katara get friendly postwar and talk about their brothers.

Mai is significantly older than Azula and Ty Lee AU (Older "sister" Mai)

Jin works at Iroh's teashop but finds out about his past

Zuko tells Azula about the Spirit Water

Ursa and Ozai get along better, and it's not a good thing AU

Imperialist Lu Ten survives the war and tries to regain his throne afterwards

Zuko finds out more about his nation AU

Revolutionary Azula takes over Ba Sing Se AU

Three different AU ideas in one

Favoritism in the royal family is a little different

What if Zuko had a nonbending twin sister (who he doesn't get along with).

Zuko's daughter changes how he sees Azula

Zuko and Ursa try to isolate Azula ("for her own good")

Ozai gets exiled and the Gaang stupidly ally with him

Earth Kingdom ends up with custody of Azula postwar and support her bid for the Fire Nation throne when Zuko starts another war with them.

The Gaang tries to figure out why Zuko joined them.

Dangerous Ladies find Ursa in Book 2

Azula and Toph fake dating

Zuko/"world leaders" try to force Aang to take away Azula's bending and he's very much not OK with it.

Azula is thrown away to the NWT postwar as a trinket and Chief Arnook adopts her.

Comics! Ursa's letter about Zuko being a bastard gets out.

Zuko and Katara lie about what happened during the Agni Kai

An exiled Azula finds Fire Imperialist! Ursa postwar

Aang has to save Azula from being executed by Zuko

Zuko's defection during DoBS goes very badly for Mai

Zuko joins the Gaang at Ba Sing Se, but it ends poorly

Zuko killed Azula during the Agni Kai, and now he has to deal with the consequences.

AU idea where Zuko keeps Azula permanently imprisoned in bad and torturous conditions postwar, and Izumi finds out about when she’s relatively young, and draws exactly the sort of conclusions about her parents that you would expect. Not to mention being terrified that she might be treated the same way if she missteps…

Ozai never declares Zuko and Iroh traitors

Iroh-Azula roleswap au

Zuko asks Azula for help with his firebending

Zuko wants Azula to like him but doesn't get why she doesn't like him (postwar)

Katara has an arranged marriage with Zuko and Azula tries to get into the good graces of her sister in law

"Katara is supposed to have an arranged marriage with Zuko, but she falls in love with Azula instead."

Another take on Zvtara (arranged marriage) and Maizula.

Azula-Katara AU idea (or: Katara runs into an Azula who has changed a lot in some ways and not very much in others)

Zuko is actually Ikem's son

Firelord Azula ends her brother's exile

Azula raises Izumi (it's complicated)

"AU idea: Azula commits suicide out of despair, and just about everyone is convinced that Zuko had her murdered or at the very least “encouraged” her to do it."

Dangerous Ladies get banished/declared traitors and Azula basically gives up. Mai has to step up her place

I have to say, “Zuko has to deal with finding out that Ursa very much isn’t who he believed she was” remains excellent fanfic fodder.

"AU idea: Ursa is more aware of Ozai’s abuse and potential for abuse than in canon, so, right after her exile, she seeks out Iroh and charges him with protecting both of her children."

Firelord Iroh treats Azula in a really screwed up way.

"AU where Azula dies during the latter stages of the war or right after it, and Mai is the only person who ever morns her as a person, not as a politically convenient symbol (Ty Lee runs away from her complex feelings on Azula as much as she can)."

Dark idea

"Since so much of the fandom is convinced that Azula is Zuko’s older sister, I need an AU where this is true and Zuko is just as throne-obsessed as canon and spends all his time trying to usurp his older sister."

"AU where Ozai has a heart attack and dies right after the fire siblings return to the Fire Nation, and Zuko and Azula have to pick up the pieces. Meanwhile, the Gaang are plotting to overthrow them and bring the war to a close once and for all..."

King Kuai adopts Azula as his heir

Things get complicated, darkly (Azula exiled postwar AU)

What if Zuko tried to be a good brother

"I really need an AU where Lu Ten returns and is pissed over Ozai’s usurpation, so he kills Ozai, seizes the throne, and continues the war. Of course, Iroh ends up supporting his actual son in all of this, and the conflict in the Fire Nation ends up boiling down to Zuko and Azula vs. Lu Ten and Iroh as the situation spirals toward civil war, at the same time the 100 years war continues."

"Maizula AU where Mai married Zuko, but he died not long after Izumi was born, and Azula and Mai are secretly carrying out a relationship while raising Izumi and ruling the Fire Nation as her regents."

Azula joins the Gaang with a twist...

"The chaos which would result if Lu Ten showed up alive again in Book 1 and launched a rebellion against Ozai in pursuit of “his” throne."

Ursa opposes Firelord Zuko

Iroh tries to kill Azula during "The Chase"

Mai and Ty Lee on trial for "war crimes"" and Azula has to save them

This is very long list, and people are welcome to steal any ideas they want from it for their own use.

#Azula #Au Idea #Au idea #Azula au ideas #Zuko #Ursa #Mai #Ty Lee #Katara #Ozai #Iroh #Not very friendly to Iroh #Various au ideas #fic idea #crack fic idea

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sluggsoupp · 2 months

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Post regarding @harvestedfaith

Hello slenderverse fandom, this is something I never thought I would have to do but here we are.

This is a callout post for the slenderverse blog harvested faith, which at this point seems to have more out of character posts than an actual story so calling it that is almost a stretch at this point.

After knowing and talking with the creator for about a month now, I have evidence that at least some of the hate they have been receiving they have been sending to themselves off of sideblogs.

I met the creator, who I will call jesse, through the found&lost discord. Found&lost is another series that takes place on youtube and tumblr. I have fallen in love with the series and grown close with it’s creator and was excited to start chatting with anyone else who was interested in it, that’s how me and jesse started talking.

Jesse got in contact with found&lost’s creator jb, and they began to collaborate and slowly intertwine their lore together.

Soon after meeting jesse, their blog started receiving hate and an account was made to “callout” things they had done(which I believe was @electric-kitty). Now, I do not know who made that account and I do believe the claims they made were completely false. Not to mention the account made many transphobic and antisemitic comments in reference to jesse.

Since then jesse has been consistently receiving hate, they even had one of their blogs banned. I sympathize with them and started chatting with him in dms on discord, trying to make sure he was ok as his mental health was clearly in a poor state. However after I started talking to him one on one I started noticing odd behavior.

They told me that they had sent an ask to the creator of hollowhemlocks about their own blog, from a sideblog. They sent me a screenshot of this. Shortly after they began to start almost bragging about the fact that hollowhemlocks creator had blocked them on the harvestedfaith blog. I bring this up because in the screenshot they included their side blog. That sideblog was @x-aranoia. This sideblog shortly after can be seen sending hate to the harvestfaith account.

EVIDENCE:

Today the harvestfaith account was also sent an anonymous ask that, alongside calling jesse slurs and telling him to take his life, the ask pointed out how they had been blocked by a slenderverse creator. That is not public knowledge, I checked. They told me personally about it when it happened and after checking with jb, he told him as well. I do not have proof that he sent that ask to himself, but what I do know is that the behavior is incredibly suspicious.

One final point to make, in a recent post they made explaining why they were going on hiatus, they admitted that the characters in their blog are not characters but actually ALTERS. They have never at any point clarified this on or outside of the blog. I AM NOT HERE TO FAKE CLAIM THEM. I do think that their behavior of treating their alters like fictional characters and involving them in other actual fictional series is an incredibly unhealthy behavior, I tried to speak with them about this in dms on discord, they proceeded to ignore me and then make a new discord.

I do not believe that jesse has any malicious intentions, however their behaviors are incredibly toxic and unhealthy and SHOULD NOT BE ENCOURAGED. Giving them attention and allowing them to continue on the platforms they have is dangerous FOR THEM.

So please I ask that you do not interact with these accounts. I think for now the best course of action is to block them and hope that he takes personal action to take better care of himself.

Jesse, I assume you are reading this. PLEASE TAKE A BREAK FROM DISCORD AND TUMBLR. THEY ARE CLEARLY TAKING A NEGATIVE TOLL ON YOUR MENTAL HEALTH AND I WORRY FOR YOU.

That’s all I have to say. Stay safe out there everyone<33

#slenderverse #slenderman #creepypasta #harvestfaith #everymanhybrid #marble hornets #hollowhemlocks #call out post #i dont know how to tag this #stay safe #sorry for typos

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gunsatthaphan · 9 months

Text

✌🏻✨ ~ 2023 wrap-up ~ ✨✌🏻

another year gone, another post no one asked for djkghdf

I normally don't talk about personal stuff on here but like in the previous year I wanted do a little recap and give shoutouts to some lovely people 🧡

It hasn't been an easy year for me, I started a new job which has been stressful and annihilated my work-life balance which resulted in me being sick a lot & just being stressed for most of the year lol. I barely found time to maintain this blog which may not seem like it on the outside since I somehow managed to frequently post but it's been difficult. I know I don't have to be online 24/7 but the fear of slipping into irrelevancy due to lack of content remains. I didn't have much time to watch bls & asian shows in general which I still consider my safe space and escapism so I'm resentful that I didn't get to fully take in and enjoy the things I'm passionate about and make content about them like I did in the previous years. That being said thank god for all the weekend shows that I did manage to watch and fully focus on like Only Friends and now Cooking Crush and Cherry Magic. Those have been life savers lol and also thank god for all the talented creators who gave us tons of content; I will mention some of them below.

But aside from my personal schedule and despite not watching a lot of stuff, I still tried to keep an eye on what's going on in the BL world for my monthly breakdowns, which I still enjoy making and I will likely continue them in 2024. I also came to the conclusion that 2023 ended up being another rendition of quantity > quality in the BL-verse so not much has changed lol - not that I expected it to. We got a wild and extended mix of different genres and subgenres this year which was nice to see. We saw companies & actors experimenting a lot (with varying results), we got new ships, new fandoms and new enemies, as well as a variety of comebacks and retirements. My watchlist this year was limited to Thai BLs and my blog mostly consisted of gmmtv related content and like I said, if I had had more time I probably would have explored more different shows - but I eventually resorted to what's familiar. I guess I needed an anchor in midst of all my personal chaos lol.

But despite my short list, there were a few gems that I enjoyed. The big ones like Only Friends, Moonlight Chicken, Be My Favorite, etc., and the small, less popular ones like Be Mine Superstar, Mission Fan Possible and a few more. I enjoyed talking to friends & making content about them in the limited timeframes I had. My opinions mostly matched those of the general public but unfortunately there were a few disappointments that were bathing in a success that I could not wrap my head around - Dangerous Romance and A Boss and a Babe being at the top of that list, followed by La Pluie and also a few of the lakorns I watched. But anyway.

Anyone who knows me knows my blog has been 83% FirstKhao this year lmao, they're my favorite people in this industry and watching them act, interact & making content about them has been one of my highlights. I'm excited to see what 2024 brings for them and even if it's not a series, I'm looking forward to seeing what else they will be up to 🥺 🐈‍⬛ 🐈

I'm going into 2024 with mixed feelings but above all I hope I will get the chance to expand my watchlist a little. I will post a personal top10 of the shows I watched this year shortly; until then I want to talk a bit about some lovely people this year - I’m not good with words lmao but thank you for being you and making this hellsite a better place 🥹 lol.

@leonpob - bestie!!! 🧡 our BL opinions have drifted apart this year lmao but who's to say friendships are solely based on mutual opinions. You're the best, stay the way you are and here's to another year of sharing thoughts and hopefully finding more shows to watch together (no matter if trash or not lol) 😉😘 @mayalunas - ahhhh I loved talking to you sooo so much this year, we agree on so many things that I'm convinced we share the same BL braincells lmao. You're one of my favorite people on this website, thank you for being such a good listener and a positive & supportive person to talk to 🥺 I hope you have the best 2024!!! ily!!! 🧡 @khunvegas - GURL idk where you went this year or if you still exist sdjkds but just know I haven't forgotten about you and I miss our talks 🥺 come back pls thank. @my-wandering-rabbit - I love our random out-of-context talks once a month lmao, I appreciate you and I hope we will continue our ritual of me watching shows and you asking me questions without watching them kjsdhg @bl-recs-and-reviews - Bestie!!! I love our catch-ups on Discord, you were one of the first people I ever talked to like 4 years ago? crazy. look at us. I still love you, you're the sweetest and I love talking to you 🧡🥺 @dreamedofyou - ahh I absolutely love your blog!!! I noticed you a lot in my notifications this year so I wanted to say thank you so much for interacting with my unhinged content (mostly FK related lmao) - We haven't talked a ton but I think of you as a very nice person and I hope we can talk more next year 🥹🫶🏻

and then of course some more shoutouts go out to all the wonderful and talented creators out there; I will never be able to tag all of you so sorry in advance but here are a few that I appreciate, some of which have also mentioned me in their wrap-up posts so thank you for that!!!

@taeminie @seatawinan @loveisactivated @forcebook @jimmysea @guzhu-furen @daymork @itsallaboutbl @seatawinans @blneobin @blmpfff @wanderlust-in-my-soul @pranpat @milkpansa @raypakorn @ahxu-laowen @forcebookish @forcebookcorner @morkofday @chinzillas @seajimmy @dimpledpran @i-got-the-feels @bengiyo @benkaaoi @25shadesoffebruary @moonkhao @smittenskitten @respectthepetty @earthfluuke @pharawee @khaotunq @khaotunqs @pranink @gabrielokun @piningintrovert @zhaozi @markpakin @firstkanaphans @firstforkhao @khaotungsfirst @wen-kexing-apologist @firstkpp @firstmix @bunnakit @khaothanawat @alienwlw @ffirstkhao (I can't tag the last 4 for some reason..)

have the best 2024!!!

🧡🧡🧡

#happy new year!!!#happy 2024!!!#<3 #shoutouts

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the-ghost-of-asselus-cancri · 2 months

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"pointless denial"

fandom: twisted wonderland

characters: rollo flamme x yuu

having seen so many people around him fall for each other countless times, rollo himself never believed in such thing as love until death did them part. he often scoffed in disgust at any public displays of affection, harshly reprimanding students, who dared to kiss in the halls of the noble bell, but all of his efforts seemed to be in vain. he knew full well that envy was a sin, so was lust, and with that flamme desperately tried to vindicate his unjust actions. however, his whole facade of jealousy and constant denial, carefully constructed over the years, went up in scorching flames the moment he laid his eyes on you.

***

of course he did his fair share of research on every single student he invited, yet rollo almost couldn't find anything about you or your chaotic familiar of a cat, going by the name grim, if he recalled correctly. that lack of information frustrated much already impatient flamme to no end, since he didn't know what to expect of you, an unsolvable at first enigma: so possibly volatile, unreliable and inconsistent. he sincerely swore to himself that after he gets to know you a little bit better, he would find the solution to this puzzling riddle named after yourself and oh, he has never been so very wrong in his entire life.

as rollo was getting ready to introduce himself to the night raven students, when he saw your face amongst the crowd, he unwillingly stuttered. it was like time itself froze in place for a few miniscule seconds of quiet to let him admire you from such a close distance. having no image of you to go off, he had his certain expectations regarding your appearance, and somehow you managed to crush them in such a devastatingly bewitching way. in a moment flamme quickly composed himself, continuing the necessary formalities, while your presence constantly occupied his ever so busy mind, which annoyed him to no end.

***

doubt concerning his meticulously strategised plan slowly, much akin to venom, started to set in, because for some unknown reason he didn't want to involve you in his dangerous scheme. you were nothing, but a harmless, magicless person from another realm, who just ended up in the night raven college by a wicked chance of fate. there was no need for you to suffer on the behalf of those insolent- rollo quickly stopped this perilous train of thoughts, as his unusual fear for your safety caught him off guard. he only knew you for a few hours, so why did he feel this distracted? until your arrival flamme was so sure of his actions, justifying them by any means necessary, but it all suddenly came to ruin with you now by his side. and yet, he was far too gone in his pointless quest for vengeance, riddled with guilt and remorse to the point of no return. no one could ever save his tarnished soul, not even such a ridiculously kind human as yourself. or that was what rollo liked to believe in.

#twisted wonderland #twst nbc #twst #rollo flamme #twst rollo flamme #twst x reader #twst scenarios

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itsstrange · 2 years

Text

Bounded

Fandom: MW2

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

A/N: Finished playing the campaign a couple days ago and my love for this man has awaken once again. I remember I used to have a crush on him as a kid and those feelings have arisen once again! So, for all you Ghost sluts, this one is for you!

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, both (Y/n) and Ghost are forced to hideout in an abandoned apartment complex, where things soon get interesting.

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings: (Yes) Injury, Blood, Mentions of Death, Cursing, Smut, Kissing, Confessions, Fingering, Slight Rough Sex, Just Pure Smut. (+18)

————

Enjoy! 🔥

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———————

Things went to shit rather quickly. It was supposed to be a simple mission, or at least that’s what Lasswell told them. Breach. Kill. Search for any intel and Get Out. Simple right? No. Not fucking simple at all. They were misgiven information, supposedly there would be a skeleton crew of 10 hostiles guarding the broken down building, not 40, and now (Y/n) is sporting a good bullet to the torso while being carried out by none than other Simon “Ghost” Riley. In other words, the Lieutenant, and the one man that can easily clashed throats with her. Fucking great.

They walked in with six men, now only them two were making their way down the flooded streets of Mexico. Rain poured down on them as they quickly looked for a place to lay low, but every building they’d pass through was either lit on fire, completely destroyed or too exposed. Which gave them the only option to keep walking until they found something much more inviting and secured. However, they were quickly running out of time considering (Y/n) was barely able to stand on her own feet. The bullet on her side was sending white hot pain throughout her body with each step she took, it didn’t look like it because of the rain pouring on them but she really was losing a lot of blood. She was actually surprised she had survived walking two miles without collapsing, then again it was the adrenaline that gave her the strength.

Which quickly began fading off the longer she stood on her feet. Her energy was decreasing now with the adrenaline gone and it didn’t help when unbearable pain shot through her side with each step she took. Eventually, it became too much that she honestly just needed a break. Just five seconds, or ten wouldn’t kill anyone.

“Wait wait,” (Y/n) harshly whispers as she leans her hand against a ruined car, breath coming out in harsh puffs, “Just— Just gimme a minute,”

“Negative. Can’t do that soldier. We gotta keep movin,” Ghost says, voice firm and stiff, with a small hint of worry, which of course she didn’t catch,

(Y/n) let’s out an exhausted sigh through her mouth as she hangs her head. Even that was becoming difficult to keep upright. He should just leave her, save himself, she was only slowing them down and risking both—his life.

“C’mon Nova,” Ghost calls her by her call sign as he carefully pulls her off the car, “We need to find shelter so I can patch ya up,”

“Move it,” He orders as he begins walking, forcing her to do the same, causing a pained groan to leave her lips as the sudden movement causes pain to shoot from her wound,

Placing a bloodied hand on said wound, she slowly walks alongside the brute man, who kept his eyes peeled for any danger and shelter that look safe enough. Even though her heart was thundering in her ears, she would often catch his harsh breaths or grunts as he carried mostly all her weight or would reposition her around his shoulders whenever he’d feel her slipping away. Most of the time she’d do it on purpose to get him to leave her on the ground and save himself from the dead weight, but he wasn’t having it, he’d only tighten his grip on her and would continue walking through the flooded streets.

“Where do you take someone who’s had a peek-a-boo accident?” Ghost suddenly says as he scans the buildings, faint grunts leaving his mouth every once and a while,

“No,” She flatly responds, she’s honestly not in the mood for his ridiculous dad jokes,

“To the I.C.U,” Ignoring her he goes ahead and finishes his joke, which only receives him a breathless scoff along with a small shake of a head,

Dark humor just like his soul.

“You honestly have no filter Riley,” (Y/n) says through gritted teeth when he accidentally applied a little too much pressure on her wound, causing the Brit to apologize as he continues down the street,

Silence settles between them, only the sound of rain hitting the ground, fire cracking in certain buildings, their ragged breaths mixed with grunts and pained groans are heard. (Y/n) felt like they’ve had been walking for years, when in reality it had only been 30 minutes, however, if they didn’t find a place soon she knew her legs would give out sooner rather than later.

About another mile of walking through the flooded streets, hiding from shadows every so often, and tripping over her own feet more than once, they eventually found shelter. It wasn’t the best, but it was certainly better than the other buildings they’ve been passing through. It was good enough to allow them catch their breaths for an hour or so before they had to keep moving, which (Y/n) honestly didn’t care, just as long as she was able to rest for a few minutes.

The moment Ghost kicks open the door, makes sure it’s secured and begins walking through the door it was as if her body knew it was okay to relax now because she suddenly slips away from Ghosts grip, causing her to land hard on the floor with a loud exhausted groan.

“Fuckin’ hell (Y/n),” Ghost curses underneath his breath as he quickly helps her off the floor,

With quick movements he leads her towards a beaten down couch he spots in one corner and gently lays her down. Earning him pained groans as he watches her clutch to her side with eyes tightly shut. Her breathing was coming out in quick short puffs, as she laid on the couch while the lieutenant moved around the small beaten apartment looking for supplies. A minute later he comes back with a kitchen knife, a piece of cloth, and a bottle of what seemed to be tequila but she wasn’t given the chance to observe it properly considering her vision began failing her due to the amount of blood she had lost.

“Soldier, keep your eyes open,” Ghost demands as he hurriedly preps his improvised kit,

“Nova!” He shouts when he catches her drifting, but it was no use, exhaustion was quickly winning over her body,

The last thing she’s able to hear was her real name falling from his lips once again before darkness over takes her, sending her into a peaceful, quiet, dreamless sleep.

******

The sound of thunder roaring and rattling against the walls jolts (Y/n) from her sleep. Brows knitting together in confusion when her eyes stare upwards towards a dark ceiling, and even more so when she notices she’s covered with something. Slightly angling her head she realizes it’s a hoodie, not just any hoodie though, she recognizes it almost immediately. It was Ghosts navy hoodie that he was wearing under his vest, and now it’s draped over her, nearly covering her body from how big it was.

As she slowly peeled the hoodie off her frame, which smelled like cigarettes mixed with gun oil and cologne, the scent of Ghost, she noticed how her side had been bandaged up. Pain still lingered, sending jolts of it with every small movement she made, but at least she wasn’t bleeding out or better yet, dead. Glancing up from her covered wound, she immediately lands them on a figure standing in the shadows next to a window, the light from the moon giving her a clear view of his skull mask and noticing, he was staring right back at her.

They lock eyes in silence for ten seconds, until he averts his eyes outside the window for a second and then slowly making his way towards her. His rifle gripped in both hands, and noticing then, he was only in a dark long sleeved shirt.

“How you feelin?” His deep and hoarse voice matched the look in his blue eyes as he hovered over her, eyes scanning her frame head to toe,

(Y/n) thanked god for the darkness, heat crept up on her cheeks from the way he stared at her. She was even more thankful when words easily slipped from her mouth.

“Hurting. But nothing I can’t handle,” She grunts as she slowly starts sitting upright on the couch,

Right away Ghost was by her side, giving her a hand by gripping onto her shoulder and carefully helping her up.

“Didn’t want me havin’ all the fun I see,” He heartfelt jokes as he goes ahead and walks towards the window once again,

A scoff leaves her lips with a roll of her eyes. She thought quite the opposite.

“How long have I been out?”

Ghost looks down at his watch and then back out towards the window, “Two hours,”

Jesus. She thought to herself. She’s been passed out for two hours, risking both their lives and their location. “We should start moving then, we need to get the fuck outta here,”

“Negative. It’s bucketing down out there and you need rest,”

“I’m fine, Ghost. We need to move,” She argues back, hand clutching to her side while her (E/c) eyes watch him,

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at her and remains his ground by the window. (Y/n) would’ve thought he’s giving it a thought, but she thought wrong because he only turns back around with a firm ‘no’ making a scoff leave her lips as she slowly maneuvers her legs onto the ground and leans back against the couch. Eyes scanning her surroundings and thinking, how the fuck weren’t they caught yet? The building looked as if it was hanging on for dear life, maybe that’s why they’ve been in the clear, they wouldn’t dare walk into this death trap. Lucky for them right?

Averting her eyes back to the man, she observes him from her spot. The moonlight illuminating his iconic skull mask, and the small peak of those dangerous, dark, eyes of his. As she stared at his frame she began wondering how she ever got this far with the man without having to ever see his face, not that she’s been wondering what he looked like under the mask, but a speck of it would satisfy her enough. Then it got her thinking of all the times they were constantly at each other’s throats, both on mission and while resting at the base, which honestly brought a small devilish smile to her lips when deep down she enjoyed their back and forth banter of pure ridiculous things. As much as either one hated each other’s presence, they both knew deep down they enjoyed every single argument. Not that they would ever admit to it of course.

Their arguments only grew when Price would purposely team them up for missions, causing their voice to be heard in the earpiece going at it about the most smallest things. Which eventually causes Soap to mute them in annoyance every so often, he was honestly tired of their bitching but he’s only one voice, they wouldn’t listen to him.

Her mind then wonders to how either one reacts when one gets hurt. She doesn’t know if it’s just her but whenever he gets hurt on a mission, it feels as if her whole blood drains from her body whenever she sees him injured. She’s usually the first to patch him up whenever they’re clear, even if it’s just a graze on the arm, she’s there. But when she’s the one with a bullet, she’s noticed how he becomes very… protective? Firm? Quiet? She didn’t know how to explain it other than serious, more than he already is anyways. Like now, he’s quiet than usual, he’s always humming to himself as he thinks of a way out, or always throwing stupid jokes very once and a while, but now, he’s just leaning against the window in silence, blue eyes scanning for any threats.

And honestly. She’s had enough… of him standing. She knows for a fact that he’s been standing in the same spot like a goddamn reaper, and it’s honestly exhausting her.

“Ghost,” She calls out to him, no answer, so she tries again, this time by his rank, “Lieutenant,”

That got him to look over his shoulder. Eyes firm and dark as they meet hers. Definitely not sending an odd feeling down her spine from the way he glanced at her.

“I think we’re in the clear. You can sit down for now,” She tries, leaning her back to rest against the edge of the couch and closes her eyes,

Even with eyes closed, she can still feel his eyes on her. Watching her in dead silence, feeling the way his stare only burns her skin from how intense it felt. Eventually, about a minute or so, she begins hearing his heavy boots walking around the ruined floor. She didn’t want to open her eyes to see what he was doing, so she kept them shut and focused on the sound of his boots growing louder until she feels the couch dip next to her, along with a heavy exhausted sigh.

He had sat next to her.

I mean where else would he sit down? The floor?

Once again, silence surrounds them. Just the sound of rain, thunder, the low creaking of the building, and the slow steady breathing of (Y/n) can be heard. She eventually begins drifting away once again, her mind relaxing and sending her into a dreamless sleep until..

“Knock knock,” His deep baritone voice startles her, causing her eyes to snap open,

Without answering back, all she does is turn her head towards him with an annoyed look in her eyes. Ghost was fiddling with his gun, then turns towards her when he doesn’t receive a reply, the look he gives her with his piercing blues forces her to go along with his terrible, non appropriate dad jokes.

But that’s what makes him Ghost.

Rolling her eyes she replies back, “Who’s there?”

“I.O,”

“I.O who?”

“Me. When are you paying me back?” The small scoff that slipped from her lips was accompanied with a wide smile, he always found a way to crack her,

As much as she loathed it, she couldn’t stop the small chuckle that slips from her. Slightly coughing she clutches her covered wound when pain shoots towards her side.

“Get shot and I will,” She responds with a shake of her head, wide smile still plastered on her face,

A deep, amused, slightly muffled chuckle slips from the man’s mouth. Ringing beautifully in her ears, she can’t remember the last time she’s ever heard him laugh or even crack a smile, obviously, so the little gesture for sure brought a warm feeling across her chest.

Another wave of silence settles in between them for a few seconds, until he’s speaking once again. Bright blue eyes staring straight into her own (E/c) orbs.

“How you holdin up, really?” (Y/n) remains holding his gaze, feeling hypnotized by his eyes that she suddenly shares the truth about how she really felt,

Not the whole truth, but some of it.

“You should’ve left me,” She softly says, watching the way he slightly squints his eyes at her before looking away with a heavy sigh, then adds, “You should leave,”

“Don’t be daft,” Is all he says, eyes watching the window to his left, “I’m not leavin,”

(Y/n) rolls her eyes at his stubbornness. Why can’t he understand that all she wants is to save his life? Why does he have to be so fucking hard headed?

“I’m only slowing you down,” She pushes again, not noticing the way he shuts his eyes from annoyance and frustration,

“Sergeant,”

“If you leave now you’ll be able to call Soap, let him know your location and get help,”

“Nova,” He warns,

“Save yourself!”

“For fuck sakes (Y/n)! I’m not leaving you!” He finally averts his dark eyes towards her that were laced with rage, annoyance and firmness,

That familiar tension begins rising between them as they glare at one another. Neither one of them wanting to back down.

“You can nag all you want. You’re fuckin stuck with me,” He firmly points out, eyes never leaving hers,

She didn’t know what it was, but the feeling that was building in her chest was becoming too strong to push aside. It was an urge. An urge to launch at him, to grab ahold of him, shake him, slap some sense into him, to just.. touch him. She honestly didn’t know how to explain it nor she didn’t know how to understand it, but what she did understand was how much she craved this man right about now. It was the same urge she’s felt with every argument she’s had with him, she wouldn’t think much of it, until now. It was just too strong to ignore it.

Which is also the reason why her next words shock the shit out of her and causes her blood to grow cold from the sudden question that slips from her mouth after a minute of silence.

“Can I kiss you?” It was a shocking surprise for both of them, causing both their eyes to grow wide at the question,

(Y/n) because of shock and horror. Ghost because of pure utter shock, he was definitely not expecting that to come out of her mouth. He doesn’t respond, just feels the way his breath hitches in his throat the same time his body goes rigid. Hard like stone.

When she knows he won’t stand up and walk away, she slowly and hesitantly reaches a hand towards his mask. Dark eyes watch her slim fingers with caution, as if her fingers were sharpened knives itching to cut his flesh, then let’s out a shuttered sigh through his nose when he feels her small, but skillful, fingers tugging slowly at the hem of his balaclava. His eyes were on her the whole time she slowly rises the mask, then catching the small little exhale slipping out her mouth when she finally gets a view of his plumped pink lips, light scruff covering the sides of his jaw as she continues to rise the mask.

Knowing her boundaries, she leaves the mask just under his nose.

Her (E/c) eyes avert from inviting lips towards his own piercing blue orbs, silently questioning him if this was okay, if it was crossing a line, if it was okay to continue or if he wanted to stop. Little did she know he was burning on the inside for her touch. So many questions were written in her eyes, but before she can actually ask him anything, Ghost licks his lips before smoothly making the first move. Making her breath hitch when she suddenly feels his lips on her own, getting a strong taste of salted lips, dirt, and oil, although, she reacts back rather quickly to the kiss. One of her hands gently cup the side of his face while the other rests heavily against his thigh, even through his jeans, her touch burned his skin. She just had that effect on him.

After the second or third kiss, Ghost slightly pulls away to stare into her eyes, his own orbs searching for any regrets, discomfort, when he doesn’t find any he dives back towards her lips more fiercely. With much more passion, a little rough, but gentle and caring at the same time. Causing the kiss to quickly get heated the moment he slips his warm tongue into her mouth, earning a small whimper from her at the affection. Definitely igniting his arousal even more.

Next thing she knows, she’s gently being pushed down against the cushions with Ghost hovering over her, lips not once parting from each other.

A small groan that sounded more like a whimper shutters in between their lips when Ghost accidentally knocks his hips against hers, already feeling the outline of his harden member rub against her core through his jeans. He continues with his brutal teasing, thrusts becoming more firmer each time he rubs against her clothed core until she’s eventually a panting mess and begging him for more. She felt as if her body was on fire, her skin heating up like a goddamn sauna, even though it was nearly fifty degrees outside with rain pouring down on the roof, she felt too suffocated.

Not wasting another minute he lets his hands travel down her body until they land on her belt. Once unbuckled, he quickly slides her cargo jeans down her legs, lips still not leaving hers, even when a deep, choked groan slips from her bruised lips when he pushes her panties aside and slowly presses his rough fingers against her clit, gathering her wetness before diving two long, thick fingers inside of her. She’s not even sure when he removed his gloves, but she could careless at this point.

“Oh.. ffuck,” She harshly whispers, hot breath fanning over his mouth as he immediately finds his target, twisting and curling his fingers he brushes against that one spot,

A static feeling buzzes through her core all the way up to her stomach before dissolving into a cold shiver towards her shoulders as he continues to torture her g-spot. The sound of her wetness can be heard throughout the ruined apartment as he picks up his speed, her breath coming out in quick puffs with each thrust of his thick fingers. A hand was gripping onto the back of his neck, nails leaving imprints of small moon shapes against his skin as his speed only seems to increase while her other hand held onto his wide shoulder. Fingers curling onto his shirt.

“G-Ghost,” She moans his name as her peak was quickly rising, quickly tilting towards the edge,

But just before she can feel that euphoric feeling, she feels him withdrawing his fingers, earning a desperate sigh from her. Her eyes immediately snap open, confusion settling in her eyes from the sudden action, but before she can even ask she sees him shrugging off his vest before finally unbuckling his belt, awhile still being in between her legs. She then feels the way her mouth goes completely dry, as if a sudden sandstorm invaded her mouth, when she watches him shove his jeans down with one hand while the other reaches inside, pulling out his leaking member.

The head an angry shade of red, precum drooling from the tip with each slow stroke he makes. With the help of the moon light shining through the window, she can tell he was thick, feeling the way nervousness settles at the bottom of her stomach the longer she watches his hand slowly stroke his aching member, but boy did that also heightened her arousal. Quickly settling back in between her legs, Ghost hovers over her, the tip of his dick slightly rubbing against her covered mound as he makes himself comfortable, considering he left her jeans pooled at her ankles and had to maneuver himself in between her legs by lifting and crouching underneath. Taking off her boots and jeans completely seemed like a hassle, a risk he wasn’t willing to take, them doing this was already a risk, anything and anyone can ambush them at anytime, but if they were both being completely honest, that was the least of their worries. For now.

“You sure?” He asks for the first time since everything began, hot breath fanning against her lips as he achingly waits for confirmation,

Which he gets by her quickly nodding her head and reaches a hand to wrap around his member, earning a choked grunt from the man above when she strokes once, twice, before finally guiding him where she yearned him the most. With half lidded eyes he does his best to watch her reaction as he slowly sinks his girth into her heat. Letting her feel inch by inch. Her eyes tightly shut, mouth slightly open while small grunts, moans and whimpers breathlessly fall out, but with the feeling over powering him and the way she curses underneath her breath, he isn’t able to hold his gaze for long.

“F-Fucking hell,” Ghost breathlessly groans against her lips as her tight walls clamp around him,

The one hand he had holding her hips with a careful grip, suddenly lands heavily besides her head as he can no longer support his weight from the way her tightness kept sucking him inside. The air that was once in his lungs had been punched from him as the tightness only made it harder for him to hold back. They breathlessly pant against one another’s lips as he continues to push his hips, until a small yelp rips from her throat when Ghost fully sheaths himself in her heat with one full thrust. Pushing the rest of his member inside of her aching walls.

(Y/n’s) eyes were closed shut as she focused on subsiding the little pain and the feeling of being completely full after what seemed like months. Just because she’s the only woman on the crew doesn’t mean she goes around looking for any man, even if she were the type to just mess around with any guy that paid her any mind just to lose some steam, she never had the time to do so. It was always work with her, if she wasn’t working she was in a meeting, if it wasn’t a meeting, she was getting ready for the next mission, if not she was working out or at the shooting range or simply just tuning her guns. So of course it had been a while since she’s been sexually active.

After what seemed like a minute or so in getting accustomed to his length and focusing on her breathing, she slowly opens her eyes, only for them to catch the moment when Ghost pulls off the remaining of his mask, revealing his flushed, scruff face to her. Dirty blonde locks rested on top of his head, beautifully light skin with a couple small scars claiming their spots on his face, and those eyes. Those eyes that have always seemed dark underneath that mask are now written with a different emotion. Despite the black paint covering those eyes, it wasn’t the cold, brutal Ghost staring down at her, no, it was only Simon Riley staring down at her with those bright blue orbs of his. It was also the look of, uncertainty, hesitation in his eyes that brought out Simon, he was observing her reaction now that she’s seen his face, he was anxiously waiting for her to say anything, but what made another breathless shutter slip from his mouth was the feeling of her small hand cradling the side of his jaw. Her warm, slim fingers rested against his cheek as a small welcoming smile spreads on her face, causing the corner of his lips to tug into a small smirk the same time her fingers slowly make their way at the back of his neck and threading them with his short locks at the base of his neck before slowly bringing his face down until their lips are once again molding with each other.

While lavishing each other’s lips, Ghost—Simon slowly withdraws his hips before thrusting back into her heat with a rough snap, bringing a gasp from her lips. Hot breath fanning against his mouth as he continues with his slow but rough pace. Feeling the way her walls constrict around him only ignites the burning flame in his stomach, causing his pace to quicken, his thrusts becoming much more firmer. Earning breathless moans and grunts to slip from their throats with each snap of his hips.

Despite the lingering pain she felt on her side from the rough movements, she could honestly careless about it, the feeling that quickly starts to build and form into a tight knot in her core helps her push aside the aching on her side. Especially when he repositions his hips a certain angle, hitting that spot in a delicious way that has her seeing stars, and also from the way he breathlessly groans against her ear with each thrust he sends her.

“Simon,” She breathlessly moans his name, eyes tightly shut, one hand gripping onto his wide shoulders while the other held tightly on to the hairs at the base of his neck,

The way she sings his name, his real name, every so often and tugs firmly at his now damped locks, only quickens his pace. Hips thrusting faster and deeper, causing her body to move with each snap, along with the beaten couch. Knowing she’s close to the edge by her constantly moaning his name and feeling her walls clench, Ghost slips a hand underneath her right leg and let’s it slightly dangle from his arm, which not only allows him a little more space to move but also grants him to drive deeper into her womb. Earning another beautiful sound to slip from her parted lips as he doesn’t halt his movements from the new position, instead he only moves his hips with much more force.

“Oh sh-shit!” She cries out loud at the rougher pace, moving the hand that rested heavily on his shoulder to the side of his sweaty neck,

After what seemed like the tenth snap of his hips she couldn’t help the way her nails rake against his skin, leaving painful red marks on his neck, earning a deep groan from the man above who only inflicts the same small pain on her by sinking his teeth on the side of her neck.

“Si-..Sim-… oh ffuck,” Her words immediately falter as a blissful wave of electricity rushes through her, causing her eyes to shut tightly and only dig her nails deeper into his skin as her orgasm slams through her like an anchor reaching the bottom of the ocean,

Mouth agape, eyes tightly shut, fingers gripping onto his hair at the base of his neck, she rides out her orgasm. Wave after wave crashes through her. The feeling was like no other, stronger than anything she’s felt, definitely strong enough to cause her body to start shaking from the intense orgasm that rushes through her, making her feel slightly light headed and making everything around her to sound muffled in her ears. As if that wasn’t enough, he continues to thrust into her, fucking her through her orgasm, fucking her into oblivion, fucking her till she became overstimulated, yet even then, he still doesn’t stop. Only quickens his pace, slamming his hips into her, hands leaving marks on her skin from how hard he gripped her as his own peak starts to rise.

Which didn’t take long. From the way her fingers gripped tightly on his hair, nails raking against his skin, moans, whimpers leaving her lips, and her walls tightening against him had him tilting towards the edge. A couple thrusts later, his hips begin stuttering, his pace slowing down as he was nearing the end. With one final thrust he quickly pulls out just as his seed begins spurting out of him, painting the outside of her folds.

“Fuck!” He groans deeply against her neck as his own orgasm over powers him, leaving his body stiff as a rock as he rides it out,

A soft moan rumbles in her throat as she feels his warmth hitting her core, feeling the way it slides down her folds and most likely onto the beaten couch. Seconds passed as he continued to hover over her, large hands keeping him upright as he gathers his breathing, face buried on the side of her neck while warm breaths fan her sweaty skin. Once the high begins subsiding, he gently places feathery kisses against her neck, definitely feeling the way she shivers from this and only continues in moving his lips upwards; underneath her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her lips before hovering just above them. Noses rubbing together he looks into her eyes, no words, just stares into her (E/c) orbs and hopes whatever he wanted to tell her was readable through his own half-lidded eyes.

She must’ve because just as he closes the little gap between them, he catches the way the corner of her lips tilt upwards, indicating that she knew exactly what he meant through his eyes. The softly mold their lips together, pouring every emotion into it, tongues gently tangling with one another, tracing the outline of each other’s mouths. It was just untold emotions that were being expressed by their mouths, and they cherished every ounce of it.

“Have I paid you back yet?” She questions after breaking the kiss, feeling the way her lips shift upwards against his own,

Blue yes scan her face. Observing her features, the small scar on her upper left eyebrow from a mission, her (E/c) eyes that he has grown to love, another scar on her bottom lip from where an old piercing had been looped around back in her teenage days and finally her smile. Oh how he had fell for her smile, it was the one thing that let him know that she was good, happy, excited, herself. He lived for her smile, loved the way it brought warmth to his chest, loved the way it made his stomach flutter, and it was also at that moment that he knew he had fallen in love with you. Did it scare him? Absolutely. Would he admit it to you? Yes, just not right away. He was never good at confessions, but he did know how to express them towards the right people, and she was definitely one of them.

A small smirk tugs on the soldiers lips, blue eyes softening the longer her stares at her, “Believe you still have a debt to pay once we’re outta here,”

A cheeky smile spreads on her face at his words, obviously liking that idea. After a second or two, his smirk fades away as he slowly bends down to connect their lips once again. She hums into the kiss and only lets her fingers cradle the back of his neck, gently massaging the muscle as they continue to pour their love into the kiss. Eventually, about another 5 or possibly 10 minutes of lazily kissing one another, they part away. Once making sure her wound hadn’t been damaged even more, they silently fix their clothes to get ready for their extraction. Once their vests are safely clipped on their torso, gun safely tucked its holster, they stand by the window as Simon reaches for the button on his radio. Mask still off and gripped with the other hand.

“All stations this is Ghost in the blind how copy?” He gruffly says into his mic, waiting patiently for a response,

Just as (Y/n) places her earpiece in place she hears the most beautiful Scottish accent ringing in her ear, bringing a wide smile on her face, “Lt? Nice to hear you’re voice again,”

“Can’t say the same,” A small smirk tugs on his lips as he glances at (Y/n), causing a soft chuckle to escape from her as she lightly punches his shoulder,

“(Y/n) with you?” The sergeant asks, making her chest warm up from his concern,

“Affirmative,” Simon response firmly, definitely ignoring the way jealousy rises in his chest from the way Soap calls her by her first name and not by her callsign,

A relieved sigh is heard through their comms along with, “Glad to know you’re still kickin’ and breathin’ Nova,”

Still smiling she clicks the button by her shoulder, “Can’t get rid of me that easy big guy who else will keep you out of trouble?”

A deep chuckle vibrates in her ear, “Definitely would miss my partner in crime,”

“I’ve send you our location Soap, give us an estimate on your status,” Simon interrupts their conversation with a crabby tone,

Silence is heard on their line for a couple minutes before Soap is filling their ears once again, “About 15 minutes Lt,”

“Copy,”

A relieved sigh leaves (Y/n’s) mouth, she couldn’t wait to head back to base, see medical, get some grub, shower and fall face first on her bed. What would make it even better if another body accompanied her in said bed, but she knew she wouldn’t have to ask, he’d follow her without question.

“Let’s go home,” She tells him with a warm smile,

Simon looks down at her, chest fluttering and lips slightly shifting upwards as he scans her smile. Switching his mask to his left hand, he lets his right hand softly cradle the side of her cheek before closing the little distance and gently latching their lips together. He pecks her lips once, twice, thrice before moving his lips towards her forehead and letting it linger there for a good five seconds before parting away to glance into her eyes.

“Stay close,”

Her hand softly wraps around his wrist, smile tugging on her lips, “Always,”

Simons lips slightly lift, wishing he can enjoy this moment longer but they both had to get going, dropping his hand from her face he quietly slips on his mask and tucks it in his jacket. Once they were set he grabs ahold of the knob and turns towards her, he sends her a nod which she returns.

“Let’s go,” He states, opening the door and checking his surroundings with his rifle in the air,

Once cleared he motions for her to follow, which she does, right on his heels, never falling behind. Even after Soap had found them and they both safely climbed on board, they never parted away, well at least Simon didn’t. He could have sat across from her, stood next to Soap to fill him in about how fucked up the mission went, but instead, he sat right next to her. A gloved skeleton hand fitting itself with her own, fingers tangling with each other and remaining that way throughout the whole ride back to base. Neither of them caring about who can see, but definitely not being able to hide the way a smile creeps on their face— well Simon was a able to— but not (Y/n) when Soap sends them a childlike smirk when he catches their hands at some point.

They didn’t know it, but he was smirking for two reasons. 1.) He was glad they had finally worked their shit out and finally come to their goddamn senses. And 2.) He had just won 60 bucks fair and square from both Gaz and Alejandro.

Of course neither of them needed to know about the bet that was placed on them, but like always, Simon found out. After witnessing Gaz and Alejandro slide some cash towards a smirking Johnny, he waited for the child to turn around, causing him to collide with his stiff of a body before smacking him upside down on the head, causing a burst of laughter to erupt from both Gaz and Alejandro as the Lieutenant walks away, leaving a pouting Johnny as he massages the back of his head. What neither of them saw, because of the mask, neither of them saw the way a huge grin was plastered on Simons face as he walked away, obviously satisfied and for once extremely happy. The happiness in his chest only grew once his eyes landed on (Y/n) coming out of medical, who was smiling back at him.

He really was home.

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-Hopefully y’all enjoyed this rather long Fic! I’ve actually spent way too much time on this when I should be spending the same amount of time on my Research Paper that’s due this week 🥲

-Anyways, Thank You Guys for your Constant Support! Love Y’all!!

-Also, I’ve already collaborated with an amazing artist for my next Ghost Fic!! So stay tuned for that!! Make Sure to Turn On Post Notifications!! 🔔 For the Updates!!

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#modern warfare 2 #MW2 #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #Smut

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