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yandere-daydreams · 9 months

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Title: Scarlet and Gold.

Pairing: Yandere!Diluc x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 3.1k.

TW: Sex Doll AU, Unhealthy Relationships, Gore (No Injury To Reader), Blood, Implied Consensual Sex, Past Trauma, Obsessive Behavior, and Intimidation.

By the time you reached the address, Diluc was already waiting in the lobby.

You’d gotten the call about an hour ago, spent half an hour dragging yourself out of bed and gathering what you’d need before making the twenty minute drive to an apartment complex on the other side of town, careful to avoid any security cameras the cops would think to check if anyone requested an investigation. Five more to park and throw your well-worn duffle bag over your shoulder and three to find Diluc, loitering near the elevators, fiddling with a loose cigarette he would never light. You greeted him with a quick nod before throwing your bag into his chest, and he feigned a groan, stumbling back as he caught it. He needed to work on his impressions, but that could wait.

You spoke first. That, you couldn’t critique him on – most androids couldn’t speak until spoken to, and you couldn’t expect Diluc to go against one of the core tenants of his programming. “What is it?”

“Just the usual.” He kept his voice low, muted, trying to hide the remaining traces of an accent that’d been invented by some marketing team over a decade ago. “I’ve already seen the apartment. There’s a little blood, but not much else. We’ll be done by sunrise.”

You took the stairs, keeping your head bowed and face shielded from any possible security cameras. Diluc didn’t share your paranoia, staring straight ahead with the same indifferent expression he always seemed to wear. The benefits of having a face that’d been printed and distributed tens of thousands of times, you guessed. Tracking down a single Diluc in a sea of androids and companion bots wasn’t a length most detectives were willing to go to. “I’d rather not have to do this at all.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Says the man who doesn’t have to sleep.” You came to a stop in front of the first door on the fourth story and tried the knob. It gave easily, the cheap titanium dented and the lock broken beyond any hope of repair. Diluc’s handiwork, obviously, although you couldn’t say whether or not he’d done it on purpose. “Anything else you want to tell me, before we get started?”

He thought, for a second. “I passed a carousel on the way here,” he said, with no particular inflection. “It was nice. I thought the horses were well-crafted.”

“About the assignment, ‘luc.”

“Oh,” And then, with a hint of red in his pale cheek. “You might want to hold your breath.”

You didn’t have to ask what he meant. As soon as you opened the door, you were hit with the stomach-turning stench of stale blood and rotting gore, both at least a week old. You cursed, pulling your shirt over your nose and mouth, but pushed forward. The first body was splayed out in the center of the cramped living room, wrists and ankles bound with disembodied wiring, all clothing removed and chest dotted with black ink. The abdomen had been cut open, skin peeled away to reveal the entrails in their full, shriveled glory. Judging by the number of blades littered around the corpse, ranging from blunted scissors to gore-splattered carving knives, it’d been more of a hack job than a dissection.

Diluc had undersold the mess. Blood had soaked into the carpeting and dried, turning the floor a ruddy, reddish-brown color. What was left had gotten on the walls, the furniture, the ceiling. You swallowed back a groan. The furniture could be broken down and discarded, the walls and ceiling bleached. The carpeting, though, would have to be torn up and replaced, which meant you would have to spend a few more precious minutes of your night calling in a cleaning crew. That, or you would have to make Diluc do it, but he was shy around new people, and you were too much of a bleeding heart to sit back and watch him do your work.

“The second body’s in the bedroom.” He was already rummaging through your duffle bag, paying the scene in front of you no more mind that a butcher would lend to a pig on a meat hook. He handed you your tools – a pair of wire cutters, a box cutter, and a pocket-sized sewing kit – and kept the rest for himself. “Let me know when you’re done.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “I thought you would’ve gotten over that by now, ‘luc.”

He didn’t indulge you with a response, only pulling on a pair of latex gloves and starting towards the corpse. You didn’t stick around to watch. Rather, you followed the carnage where it branched off further into the apartment, a trail of rotting viscera and tacky blood leading you into a moderately sized, completely undecorated bedroom. You found your perpetrator quickly; a Dottore droid, still wearing its Teyvat-issued costuming, its hands bloody and a scrap of intestine still caught in its pointed teeth. You paused in the doorway, feeling for the military-grade taser (the only weapon effective against androids, as far as anyone could tell) you kept in your pocket, but the android didn’t move, didn’t shift, didn’t activate at all when you reluctantly approached. There was a charging port at the foot of the bed, still pristine. It must’ve run out of battery just before it could plug itself in.

Towels from the nearest bathroom were dampened and brought in, the evidence of slaughter scrubbed away from artificial skin and its blood-soaked clothing removed. It was muscle memory, by now – dragging the body to its charging port, knocking the converter out of the outlet before connecting the android to its port, making it seem like its late user had drained its batteries before mistakenly leaving it on a dead cable. When it’d slummed into place, you took up your box cutter and sliced a long, thin line from the lowest portion of the scalp to the nape of its neck, revealing the color-coded string of wires that connected the processing units in its metal skull to the rest of its body. You cut through everything you could find, ensuring that if the unit was ever activated again, it wouldn’t be able to do so much as blink. For good measure, you fished out the memory chip kept in the centermost compartment of the throat, too, crushing it under your heel and sweeping the glittering remnants underneath the bed. A copy of the footage it collected would’ve been sent to Teyvat's severs, too, but erasing it was someone else’s job. You were only here to take care of yourself.

With a breathy groan, you bit off a length of thread and haphazardly stitched up your ragged incision. The cosmetics really didn’t matter. In a few days, when someone filed a missing person’s report and the cops stopped by for a check-in, they’d find a spotless apartment, a dysfunctional android, and nothing else. The investigation would lead elsewhere, to a bitter ex-partner or a friend without an alibi, or it would hit a dead end. Either way, Teyvat wouldn’t be involved.

You slipped back out of the bedroom, careful to avoid touching anything you didn’t absolutely have to. By the time you got back to the living room, the body was gone and Diluc was kneeling by a black suitcase no larger than the average carry-on, securing the tags with transparent zip-ties. You and Diluc would haul it to a dump on the outskirts of the city tonight, and a contact of yours would have it compressed and incinerated by tomorrow morning. Maybe, when you were done, you’d take him out for something to eat. Or, you’d get something to eat while he let a mug of black coffee go cold.

You rested your hand on his shoulder by way of praise, pulling away when he stiffened underneath you. Right, that was something you had to work on. Most rogue androids tended to be touch-adverse at best, made aggressive by little more than eye-contact at worst. Diluc was relatively tame compared to most of the cases you handled, but you would still rather not provoke him. “Did you find the phone?”

He grunted, fishing a smartphone out of his pocket. With your sleeve pulled over your hand, you accepted it, found the nearest window, and chucked it as far as into the night as you could. Diluc appeared over your shoulder. “Forty-five meters,” he said, as glass crashed into cement somewhere in the distance. “Above average for non-athletes.”

“I’ve been practicing.” The window was closed, the suitcase slung over Diluc’s shoulder along with your near-empty duffle bag. “I have to make a call. You can meet me in the garage, if you want.” Already pulling up the number to your preferred cleaning service, you glanced to Diluc. “Are we doing breakfast?”

His posture straightened. “Yes.” If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought you saw a spark in his glass eyes. “I want to try tea, today.”

By the time you got to the door, Diluc was soaking wet.

You hadn’t gotten a call, and he didn’t text. The first warning you got was a knock on your door, then another a few minutes later, after you decided that anyone who’d go out in this kind of weather wasn’t someone you wanted in your shoebox of an apartment. You only caved after the third, imagining a neighbor who’d gotten locked out or some lost, desperate tourist as you dragged yourself off of your couch and to the unlit entryway. Predictably, Diluc stood in your doorway, red hair plastered to his scalp and clothes drenched, not that he seemed to mind.

“Can you—” He paused, his dull eyes meeting yours as he ran his fingers through his hands, dragging the crimson heap out of his face. “Can you cut my hair?”

Ten minutes later, he was sitting on a stool in your cramped bathroom, wearing grey sweatpants and a (three sizes too big on you, just a touch too small on him) t-shirt while his own clothes dried. He’d told you it wasn’t necessary, that he didn’t feel the cold like you did. When you told him that you didn’t want an univited guest tracking water into your apartment, he accepted it with a curt nod and changed in your bedroom.

After prepping your razor, you positioned yourself behind him, dragging a comb through his hair. It was long enough to reach his waist, curled at the end to make him seem just a touch more disheveled than he actually was. Everything about his hair, from the length of his bangs to the way it could never quite sit completely flat, was perfectly stylized, perfectly crafted to convey Diluc Ragnvindr, Calvery Captain of the Favonious Knights, the only gentleman you’ll ever need again. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that didn’t mourn ruining such a well-executed vision. “You sure about this?” you asked, as you brushed it out. “It can’t exactly grow back.”

“I am.” And then, after a second of thought, “I’d do it myself, but there’s a safe-guard. Can’t damage the merchandise without a direct order from my user.”

Hence why Teyvat needed you in the first place. “How short do you want it?”

“I don’t care, as long as it’s different.”

You hummed, taking up your scissors. “If you say so, boss.”

You cut away everything below his shoulders, then took up your electric razor – running it over the back of his neck. As you worked, Diluc spoke. “How did you start?” You took up your comb, brushing back his bangs and pasting his hair to the side. “With Teyvat, I mean.”

You tasted blood on the back of your tongue, felt a chill run up your spine. You brushed it off, though, refusing to let yourself fall back into that little steel room with those awful golden eyes again. “They brought me on as a technician,” you admitted. You still were one, technically, on your employment transcript, when people outside of your little world asked what you did for a living. “A first-generation Zhongli we were working on went rogue and reverted to its original Morax programming. It wiped out most of my team before security bothered to show up.” You didn’t tell him about the minutes you’d spent hiding in a steel locker, praying its heat sensors had been removed, or the hours it’d taken upper management to decide what to do with you. To people like Diluc, who could take a bullet to the head without faltering, topics like ‘building dread’ and ‘the imminent fear of death’ tended to fall flat. “Since I was already in on their dirty little secret, they decided to keep me on. I didn’t really get a choice. It wasn’t like another job was going to fall into my lap after something like that.”

With your hand under his chin, you turned his head to the side. “Your turn, ‘luc.”

“I… I think I used to be a companion, but something went wrong.” His bangs were next, taken up and coaxed into sitting somewhere other than the dead center of his face. “It’s hard to describe. We aren’t supposed to think about things that aren’t our master,” The word came out hitched, unsteady, like he had to force it past his lips. Like he hadn’t wanted to say it at all. “But I could. It was like… waking up with the ability to fly. I wasn’t supposed to, but I could, and that meant I couldn’t do what I was built to, anymore.”

A thumb pressed into his jaw, a comb dragged across his scalp. Diluc’s eyes fell shut, but else about his blank expression changed. “And? Do you like it?”

“Sometimes.” His shoulders slanted downward. “Do you?”

“Sometimes.” You let go of his chin, letting him turn back to the vanity’s mirror. “What do you think?”

It was far from a masterpiece. The sides were too short, the front too long, every part of it still as untamable as it’d been in its original state. Still, he took it in with wide eyes, the corner of his lips turning upward ever so slightly.

“It’s perfect.”

By the time he got back, you’d nearly fallen asleep.

With your body as wrung out as it was, your energy spent to the point of near unconsciousness, it was all you could do to watch through your eyelashes as Diluc appeared in the doorway to your bedroom, a towel thrown over his shoulder and that tiny, almost undetectable smile still painted across his lips. You’d done this enough for him to know how to navigate your apartment, to know how to navigate you – shifting onto your mattress slowly as he positioned himself between your legs. He’d gotten more used to contact since you started seeing each other, but his touch was still ginger, still gentle as he dragged the dampened cloth over the inside of your thighs. With a groan, you rolled onto your back, spreading your legs and giving him more space to work.

You’d been confused at first, but for all the eloquence Diluc lacked, he could be convincing when he wanted to be. You still weren’t sure how much of it you believed, but it made enough sense – a buried impulse, dampened by his newfound sentience but not quite drowned out. He didn’t want another user, he’d said, but he still had requirements to fill, and this would help to take the edge off.

You couldn’t complain, either. People coughed up tens of thousands of dollars for companion droids, and here you were, being paid six figures a year to close your eyes and let one bury his face between your thighs once or twice a week. The coddling wasn’t bad, either. Your line of work meant most of the people you met had stopped breathing a few days prior, and as loathed as you’d be to admit it, you didn’t hate the feeling of his delicate hands skirting over your skin, didn’t mind it when your eyes drifted open and met his, already fixed on your face. He bowed his head, dipping low enough for his lips to ghost over the curve of your hip before breaking the silence. “A sight as radiant as the rising sun.”

You let out a breath of a chuckle. “I didn’t think you used pre-scripted lines, anymore.”

“I don’t.” He preened, clearly more proud of himself than in-awe of you. “I thought of that one myself.”

This time, your laugh was throaty, genuine, loud enough to ring off the wall of your bedroom as you shoved him away with your foot. “If you want to be romantic, you can start by getting me something to drink, loverboy.”

He provided no resistance, disappearing into your dark apartment and reappearing with a glass of water in his hand a few minutes later. He handed it off to you with an easy smile, and you could almost pretend you didn’t see a phantom of gold in those dark eyes as his fingertips brushed against yours.

By the time you thought to reach for your taser, the android was already charging at you.

It was an Alhaitham, dressed in civilian clothes and sporting a ragged tear across the synthetic skin of his cheek. He was still standing over the corpse of his user – days old, by the time you and Diluc got there – but as you opened the door, he turned to face you, lips parted and his expression totally, utterly blank. For a second, it was all you could do to stare at him, to try to remember whether or not your report had mentioned the android being active, and then he was lunging at you.

You scrambled for your taser, already knowing you couldn’t be able to reach it before he reached you. You clenched your eyes shut, your fingers brushing against plastic, and then—

And then you felt Diluc’s hand on your shoulder, heard metal crack and fold into itself. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, forcing yourself to take in the sight of Diluc’s hand wrapped around the android’s head which had been, in turn, reduced to a crumpled heap of scrap metal and shattered glass. Its body twitched once, twice, then went limp, and Diluc released it, letting the now-dysfunctional droid collapse.

After it failed to get up again, Diluc turned to you, practically beaming. “I think,” he said, his voice low, sentimental. “That this is what I’d do to you, if you ever tried to leave me.”

Golden eyes, the stench of fresh blood, the sounds of screaming muffled only by a thin sheet of metal. This time, it wasn’t so easy to pull yourself out of it.

You managed to nod, to force a few words out of your dry throat. “Got it, ‘luc.”

He hummed, the noise contented, appeased. Slowly, delicately, he cupped your cheek, tilting your head back and letting his lips ghost over your forehead. He barely touched you, the gesture as gentle as it was fleeting, but you could feel his grin cutting into your skin, wider than you’d ever seen it before.

#sex doll au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere diluc #diluc x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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lordprettyflackotara · 10 days

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hitchhiker || chapter three || the proxies

tw: mentions of murder (the usual), descriptions of gore, simpy Tim

a/n: the next chapter is going to be sum else. prepare yourselves now ;)

<— chapter two

You turned to Nova, who quickly led you over to your living room.

“I understand being excited about this case but I could’ve invited him in if you weren’t here,” You sighed. Nova’s curls were in space buns, her bare baby face staring back at you with a frown. “Well I guess it’s a good thing I was here then. Last thing you need is dick from a literal hitchhiker,” She argued sassily. She put her hands on her hips, giving you a motherly look. You rolled your eyes, Nova reaching out and grabbing your wrist.

“I have to show you, you’re the only person I can trust,” She explained. She led you over to your living room, documents and photographs laid all over your white living room carpet. “Is it really okay for me to see all of this?” You questioned. She sat down on the floor, excitedly patting the spot beside her. “Absolutely not but that’s why no one else is going to know, right?” Nova said, arching an eyebrow. You joined her on the floor, the sight of all the papers overwhelming. “Right,” You agreed. Nova began dividing up the papers, placing three in front of you.

“They found Winston’s body. Did an autopsy and everything,” Nova began. Your eyes widened in horror. “Found his body? He’s dead?” You gasped. Nova nodded. Her face flashed a glimpse of sadness for a moment before it hardened again. “He was slaughtered. His body was completely dismembered, his torso the only thing left,” She explained. You felt your stomach churn. “Oh God,” You whispered. She began looking for a certain paper, shoving the others aside.

“My guess is that they tried to make his corpse unidentifiable. But they were morons. They didn’t account for his daughter’s name being tatted on his chest. Dead giveaway.”

You arched an eyebrow, “They?”

“I think there’s three of them.”

She pointed at the photographs in front of you. Each one contained individual silver bullets, with different backgrounds. “Those bullets are from a revolver and they’ve been found in all of these cases. From Florida to South Dakota to Oregon,” Nova told you. She brought out three more photos of two women, one man. “Those murders were of the head chiefs investigating this symbol,” She told you. She then held up a crumbled piece of notebook paper with an X through a circle.

“Meanwhile in Rhode Island, Utah, and New York, we’ve found at least four victims with a similar slash wound to the throat,” Nova told you. You cringed at the thought of her bluntly showing you the gore, but instead she held up diagrams of the bodies. Each were drawn and had notes dissecting every little mark on the victims body. “Every single one of them were slashed in the throat with the same blade. Look, same start and end point every time. No jagged edges, just a straight blade,” She pointed out. Nova braced herself as she showed you another pile.

“Now the third set of the victims seem to have it the worst. In Texas, New Mexico, South Carolina and countless other states, there have been findings of bodies like this,” She told you. She set out at least ten papers, the drawn diagram autopsies. You felt your stomach churn as you soaked in all of the pictures. “T-they’re all-” You stuttered, swallowing. Nova nodded affirmatively. Each drawing showed only the torso of the victims, the arms, head, and legs completely chopped off. In each of the drawings the torso itself seemed mangled, torn apart.

“It looks like they’re shot or sliced to death, before they’re dismembered,” She said. You felt your mouth run dry. “One of them shoots the victims or slices them, the third dismembers them,” She told you. You couldn’t make sense of what you were seeing. You grabbed the dreaded symbol of death. The paper was so crumbled it would’ve torn it if you weren’t careful. “I don’t understand, all of this torture and despair over this symbol?” You asked. Nova shifted through the papers, digging out a report. “I don’t know what it means, but I know whoever it belongs to doesn’t want it getting out there,” Nova said. She nervously bit her bottom lip as her eyes darted across all of her papers.

“Who was the first detective? How did they find it?” You asked. She brought out a picture of a tall detective, his hair buzzed and green eyes lit up as he smiled for the photo. “This is detective Wolf. He was investigating a triple homicide. It looks like a daughter murdered her entire family at fourteen and escaped. When they went through the home drawings with those symbols were everywhere,” Nova said. She showed you a picture of the girls bedroom. Pictures of the symbol were plastered all over her walls, along with words scratched onto the walls itself. He’s coming. There’s no escape. It’s him.

The words appeared to be scribbled onto the wall with raw charcoal. Jesus Christ they should’ve gotten that kid some pencils. “Now they just assumed the girl to be schizophrenic. That was until they found the same symbol all the way in Kansas,” Nova told you. You noticed the under eye bags that hung under her chocolate orbs. When was the last time she had slept? “Similar case. Teenage boy lost his shit, stabbed parents to death while little sister was at daycare. Investigated his room and guess what? Same symbol. Same ominous words,” She told you. Digging through her vanilla folder she held out a newspaper article to you. “Now here’s the funny part. Detective Wolf wasn’t killed until the symbol was found again. It’s like whoever this symbol belongs to went back to cover their tracks,” She rambled.

You put your hand on her shoulder, snapping her out of her addictive trance. “I think you’re onto something,” You admitted. She looked at you, her lips dry and face paler than usual. This case looked like it was draining her energy. “But with that being said you need to watch your back. Whatever gang or person or thing that’s behind this has no problem traveling to slaughter someone to keep it sacred. You need to watch your back,” You advised. Nova gave you a tired smile. She placed her hand on yours. “I’m going to solve this case. Just keep a lookout for me on the civilian side of things, alright?” She asked. You nodded. You watched as she grabbed her papers, putting them in a particular order as she organized them back into her folder.

“Why don’t you crash here for the night? Take the bed and i’ll join you in a bit. I think old episodes of friends are running at this time of night,” You suggested. Nova clipped the folder together, securing her findings. “Thanks, you’re the best,” She said. You both rose to your feet, Nova quick to throw her arms around you. “I don’t know what i’d do without you,” Nova mumbled. You squeezed her tighter, knowing how the stress of cases affected her. And truthfully, you didn’t know what you’d do without her either.

“Hey don’t stay up too late, you have work tomorrow!”

You did in fact stay up too late, resulting in you falling asleep on the couch. You were awoken by knocking on your front door. Groggily you dragged yourself over to the door, trying to remember if you put on make up last night so you could rub your eye. You were so tired you didn’t look through the peephole, opening the door. You became fully awake at the sight of Tim. Quickly you brushed your hand over your tangled hair, suddenly becoming self conscious of your appearance. But why should you be? He’s the one that left dinner. He looked he hadn’t slept, his brown eyes looking back at you. He wore his standard mustard yellow jacket, a bouquet of red roses in his hand. You opened your mouth to speak, Tim quick to stop you.

“I know what you’re going to say and before you do let me just say, i’m sorry,” He rambled. You shifted your weight to one leg, looking up at him. Maybe you were a simp. Maybe you were just down bad. But you decided to overlook his weird behavior. “Apology acknowledged. The roses…?” You started to ask, your voice trailing off. Tim awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “They’re for you. I didn’t know what your favorite flower was but I assumed roses would do for now,” Tim said shyly. It was your first time seeing him so relaxed when speaking. He appeared to be alone, Brian and Toby no where in sight. “Apology accepted or denied?” Tim asked you. You took the roses from him, smelling the delicate flowers. “Acknowledged for now. Don’t push it,” You say sternly but in a soft tone. Tim gulped as you signaled for him to come into your apartment.

“You look like you didn’t get much sleep,” You commented. You reached under your kitchen sink, grabbing a vase for the flowers. “Neither do you,” He deflected, trying to change the subject back to you. He liked talking about you. Talking to you. Your face went red as you looked down. “Oh well uh, I was up late with Nova. Fell asleep on the couch,” You admitted, embarrassment practically dripping off of you. You grabbed a pair of scissors, cutting the stems of the roses. “Is Nova your roommate?” Tim asked curiously. You put some water in the vase, finishing cutting the stems. “Oh no she just has a key to my place. Comes over during the day usually but she spends the night sometimes,” You explained.

Tim walked over beside you, leaning against the counter. He was much taller than you, his gaze fully centered on you as put the roses into the vase. His mind was rattled for many reasons. Some suspected Nova had a crush on you but you were oblivious. Some thought Nova was going to endanger you because of her line of work. And some were just flat out jealous a stranger he didn’t know got to spend the night with you instead of him. “Want some coffee?” You asked. Your sweet voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I’d love some,” He chirped. Your apartment was extremely small to Tim. It looked like you had attempted to make it tidy, but with it being so small all of your items looked cluttered.

“Straight black right?” You asked, setting the vase on your counter. Tim gave you a small smile. “You remembered,” He commented. You popped the empty coffee pot into the machine, pushing a button so the coffee would brew. “Hard to forget when you didn’t order anything else,” You replied. Huh. You were not as oblivious as Tim thought you were. Tim was typically nauseous ninety percent of the time. The only time his body ever really ate a hearty meal was when Masky fronted. If anything, Masky was so gluttonous it explained Tim’s consistent nausea.

Another suspected reason was Tim’s diet. Tim’s diet consisted of coffee and cigarettes. Yum. “So about last night I uh… I want to make it up to you,” Tim told you, trying to continue the conversation. The smell of coffee filled his nose, the scent flooding your apartment. “I thought that’s what the roses were for?” You asked. Mentally you felt like you had every right to be stand offish. Tim and Brian disappeared randomly. And although you were grateful for some time alone with Toby, that didn’t excuse their actions. Especially when no explanation was provided. Not one that’s good enough anyways.

“They are but I wanted to um, ask you if uh, you wanted to go out with me sometime today. Just the two of us,” Tim asked. He felt like a fourteen year old kid who just asked out his middle school crush. You felt your face flush pink. Did Tim just ask you out on a date? “I work until around ten tonight. Are you okay with that?” You asked slowly. After your previous breakup you hadn’t had too much experience with men. A tension began to bubble in the room, one you hadn’t realized was there before. Was Tim trying to hit on you? “Works for me. I don’t think much will be open but we can always walk around the Davidson park,” Tim suggested. He could feel his nerves eating at his bones as he awaited your answer. Davidson park was a massive park given to their town by the state, large oak trees and multiple kinds of flowers planted all over the place.

The coffee had finished brewing, your hand wrapping around the coffee pots handle. “What about Brian and Toby? I know Brian doesn’t like me but Toby and I had a nice walk home together,” You said dryly. You went to grab two mugs, the only two that were clean. You stared at them in the cabinet, your hands hovering over them. You mentally scolded yourself when you realized they were both hello kitty themed. Thanks Nova. “Don’t take Brian personally. He has a hard time socializing. We never stay in one place too long and he’s scared of getting attached,” Tim explained. Technically he wasn’t lying. You tried to nonchalantly pour you both cups of coffee, ignoring Tim’s eyes examining the hello kitty mugs. “What about Toby?” You questioned. One mug had hello kitty dancing and in the other one she’s winking with a wand. You mentally face palmed. Not exactly like there was a more ‘masculine’ mug you could hand him. Or honestly, literally any kind of boring adult mug would’ve worked.

“I think it’s great you guys like each other but i’d like the honor of getting to know you too,” Tim answered quickly. You poured both cups of coffee, deciding on Tim getting the dancing hello kitty mug. He took it without question, sipping the steaming coffee like it was nothing. “Alright let’s call it a date. I’ll meet you at Davidson park around eleven?” You suggested. Tim nodded, watching as you scooped a spoonful of sugar. He couldn’t help but want this routine all of the time. He’d make sure you were taken care of, pampered and fed. With the lack of clean dishes and yesterday’s clothes still on your body, it was apparent to him you were struggling. He didn’t want you to struggle ever again.

As Tim sipped his coffee, all he could think about was all of the ways he wanted to take care of you.

“Hey y/n?”

“Hmm?” You hummed, grabbing your almost empty creamer from your fridge.

“Nice mugs by the way.”

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yandere-romanticaa · 1 year

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A month has passed since a strange cult took you within its ranks. It wasn't necessarily by choice but it was something you needed to do in order to survive. Your entire village had been destroyed in a sudden onslaught of ferocious demons, massacring all of your friends and family.

You were left with nothing.

For days you had roamed the mountains and with a heavy heart had accepted the fact that you were going to die, be it from starvation, dehydration or some stray demon devouring you from head to toe.

Lord Douma had other things in store for you.

He was a strange one, the man who rescued you. He was oddly easy to amuse and absolutely everything you did was incredibly entertaining to him. One of his favorite past times were when he would simply stare at you as you talk about your life and perform everyday, mundane duties. At first you thought nothing of it - he saved your life, the least you could do was indulge him just a little bit.

Red flags started to show up soon though - the way he would move and carry himself, it simply was not natural. Whenever there was a meal, Douma would not even look at the food or even have a sip of water. You chalked it up to him having his own private meals and decided to think nothing of it.

You had managed to settle within a comfortable routine which just so happened to often cross paths with the great Lord himself. He seemed to greatly enjoy your presence and would have you with him from the moment the sun had risen until wee hours in the morning.

How was he never tired?

Suspicion slowly turned to fear as you noticed that some members of the cult were missing. No one knew what came of them or where they were last seen, as if some foul creature had spirited them away.

You brought up your concerns with Lord Douma but he just called you silly and told you not to worry about it. "Nothing bad will happen to you!" he'd say reassuringly but his words gave you shallow comfort.

Douma, for whatever reason, was also quite fond of physical touch and you were his favorite when it came to that. He was absolutely shameless and would explore your body however he saw fit. Amongst those odd trysts, you noticed that a powerful metallic smell would cling onto him and would never go away no matter how hard you washed his clothing.

No amount of praying could prepare you for the horror you'd encounter on one moonless evening.

You had woken up due to a strange noise and, against your better judgment, decided to investigate. With nothing but a single candle in your hand and a long but thin nightshirt covering your body, you ventured downwards the dark and creepy hallways. It felt as though the shadows themselves were out to get you because you'd flinch at every single sound no matter how miniscule. The closer you got to Lord Douma's chambers the stranger the noises got - giggling, slurping and crunching could be heard as a horrible stench filled the air, a smell so vile that it made you want to throw up your dinner. You'd often ask him what he liked to eat but naturally, Douma would just dodge your question or say something really silly. "It's easier if I eat alone!" he'd say as he caressed your hair. With each step you took the stench became stronger and stronger and Douma's words continued to ring inside your head like bells.

"You see, I'm a bit of a night owl! It's also not smart to come to my chambers without knocking first!~"

You should have listened to him and his thinly disguised warning.

Through the tiniest of cracks you saw Douma on the floor, covered in fresh blood. A wicked grin danced across his lips as he toyed with the severed limbs with the mauled corpse of a young woman, her eyes stricken with fear even in death.

It took you every ounce and willpower to not scream bloody murder.

With the way he was treating the corpse you'd think that Lord Douma was but a child with a precious toy. His light tone and playful gestures sent chills down your spine as you covered your mouth with your hand, a desperate attempt to conceal any potential noises that may escape you. You watched him for a few moments as you let it all sink in, not even realizing just how much your entire being trembled with fear. Just before you could make a break for it you heard Douma speak.

"I know you're there, watching me. I don't know who you are but I can smell you!"

Crap.

Dropping the candle to the floor you could do nothing but freeze as Douma continued to speak, total indifference lacing his voice.

"I would leave, if I were you. I am in a good mood tonight and shall play stupid so I won't turn around to see your face! Now, be a good little disciple and go back to bed!"

Squeaking like a helpless puppy, you ran away with your tail behind your legs, not realizing that Douma knew damn well that it was you. The demon could sense your presence across a giant mountain if need be and your sweet smell would invade his senses every time he would think about you. It was a shame that you saw him in such a state but he really did not want to kill you. He was content with playing dumb and hoped that it would be the same case for you as well.

As long as you kept your lips sealed, everything was going to be alright.

Part 2 here!

#he's so bbg (he would eat me without a second thought)#yandere #yandere x reader #yancore #yanderecore #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere aesthetic #yandere demon slayer #demon slayer x y/n #yandere demon slayer imagines #yandere demon slayer x reader #demon slayer douma #yandere douma x reader #douma #yandere douma #douma x reader #demon slayer x reader

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months

Text

AS TAINTED AND AS FLAWED AS YOU (V)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER VI

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 6.7k

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of stalking & stalking behavior, creepy men, talks of death, weapons, toxic modeling standards, food issues, dead animals, blood, talks about gore, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wondered what the doves had felt when they had gotten ripped apart. Were they already dead by the time the fingers had torn into them, breaking their hollow bones, or had they been alive—past the burning; past the evisceration of their intestines? You don’t want to think about it, but thinking is the only thing you can do. Think, think, think one horrible thought after another until you’re sinking in a pool of gore.

Your Mom shakes your shoulder and you startle back to the scene of her office.

Eyes widening, you clear your throat quickly and speak above the palpitations of your heart. “Yeah?”

The woman’s wrinkles tighten.

“I asked if you wanted any water, Beauty.”

Stop calling me that.

“Please.” A cup is held in front of your face, and you slowly take it as the box on the other side of the room is stuck in the sides of your vision. Two investigators mull over it, muttering to themselves and sending glances over their shoulders.

Yaromir and Galina. Both are tall and dressed in dark jackets—a patch on their left arm. The inky ties contrast with a pale button-up seen under the collar.

You haven’t even spoken to them.

Taking a long drag from your cup, you focus on taking down the liquid through your tight throat. There’s a certain point where shock overtakes the ability to think properly—you don’t know how to act except to respond to issues as they arise.

You were supposed to go home right after AMA, but your mom had gotten a call from the Operational Officers. It seemed Nikto had been in touch, and they had given the order to come here for as much information as you could give, which, admittingly, was little.

Everything you’d given was still the same as it had been after the explosion.

“Nikto?” Your lips are cold.

The man blinks from the corner of the room, slightly shifting his head your way from where he watches the scene quietly. Your eyes lock and after a moment you raise the glass.

“Do you need anything?”

His chest slightly raises in a sigh.

“... Negative. I am,” the Russian pauses, the fingers behind his back twitching. “Adequate.”

You hum and pretend you heard what he said above the ringing in your ears. This was how you acted right after the scene in the bakery as well. Like a walking corpse.

“They already called into AMA,” your mom side-eyes Nikto, her eyebrows pulling in tightly before they slide back to you and lessen. In her face is the sheen of hidden concern. “The CEO was told he can’t keep you in the building if there’s an immediate threat to your life or the lives around you—it’s all up to you until the investigation is over if you want to go back.”

“Okay,” your response is short and swift. You set the glass to your lips and take back the last few droplets, wishing it was wine instead. Even like this, you knew that you would still drag yourself through the front doors of your work—you needed the job. You can’t do anything else properly.

Mom sighs, the jewelry at her wrists jingling as her hands come up to rub at her temple.

“This might offer us something—fingerprints, DNA. It’s better than incinerated pieces, at the very least.” You put your cup on the desk, hands coming back to wrap around your middle with shaking fingers finding purchase in your jacket fabric.

“Has Dad written?” Her slate body freezes like stone.

It’s a long time before she speaks, and when she does, it’s a firm utterance that comes from her throat. The investigators are still speaking to one another, and Nikto’s dead eyes are stuck on the two of you in interest. His chin minutely tilts down.

“No.”

You don’t know if that’s the answer, or if it’s a command for you to stop the road you’re going down. Either way, you flatten your lips and say no more, your knee jumping with nerves.

“Ma’am,” Galina speaks louder, addressing you. Your head pivots, breath sounding heavy as you lick your lips. The woman’s long, dark, hair is tied back in a ponytail, tight to her skull. Doe-like eyes don’t stray from yours. “I will need to be in contact with your manager.”

“Alright,” she continued to stare, face bland. Your heart jerks. “Do…do you need his number?”

“It would be swifter than having to gain it from elsewhere.”

You nod, face heating.

“Sorry,” your lips mutter, hand delving into your pocket to pull out your device and unlock it, swiping through contacts before finding the correct one and listing off the numbers slowly. Galina writes them down on a piece of paper from her notebook and says little more before she turns back around to her partner and addresses him.

“Explain it to them, I have to make a call.”

Yaromir huffs, standing up and grimacing down at the ‘gift’ with his clean-cut face. The woman walks out the door with steady steps, Nikto paying close attention to how her eyes slide to him, how they narrow, and how her lips twist at his mask—gaze icy.

There was no question as to whether these two disliked his involvement in this case, and how they had to listen to his input as a former member of the Russian forces with far more knowledge than they could ever possess. Perhaps Nikto’s lips quirked at that, chest stuck with a pleased grunt as Galina stalked away and closed the door behind her.

But there was time for his arrogant nature later. Yaromir speaks with his light accent.

“There will be more patrols around your penthouse,” Nikto was always surprised by the lack of action in civilian life—if it was his choice, the stalker would have already had a bullet through his chest before he had the chance to bomb that bakery. But at the very least, he knew that his mind was not one to rely on.

You shift in his peripheral view, and he knows you’re afraid. Nikto’s feet shift from under him.

“Our resources are not infinite, but if we can’t pull anything from this,” a vague hand gesture to the mutilated animals. “There may be a need too…” Yaromir pauses.

Your mother speaks before you can.

“Too what?”

“He is saying he will need more,” Nikto’s voice is a harsh crunch of cords, of black ice.

You tilt your head to implore him of his meaning, and he does so while not looking away from you. You were his charge after all.

“More gifts.”

Yaromir is swift with his response. “I-I do not mean…that is only if we can get nothing out of the box—”

“What?” Your face is twisted up with disgust and shock, sputtering out as your head snaps back to the officer. “No!”

“It is imperative that we avenge the lives of our three countrymen.” He shakes his head, raising an arm as your mother sits in silence, her lungs taking down a deep breath. “You must see our stance on this.”

Your face falls.

Nikto doesn’t know why, or maybe he does, but the sentence makes his hands tighten like no other, a rage breeding in his chest.

“You’re saying that I,” you stutter, and the soldier can see the way your neck pulses with the speed of blood. “You expect me to try and accept more of them? More presents from a man that’s intent on getting to me and doing God knows what?”

In your brain, you know the truth.

They’re more concerned about the lives they deem important, and you don’t fit into that graph.

“Nothing will harm you,” Nikto growls. “Not while I’m here.”

He’s given a firm stare.

“You agree with this?”

“I have never said that,” he grunts, voice stiff as a board. “Simply stating my mission.”

For the first time working with you, he sees your face go tight with distrust and his eyelids twitch slightly lower.

“Beauty,” you’re shaking your head, hands raising up and waving back and forth as you stand up swiftly.

“Are you going to defend this?” Your mom’s eyes dart away before wafting back.

“It’s all that they can do,” you scoff wetly. “And that’s only if they don’t find anything. You need to think about this logically.”

“Nothing about this involves logic,” you snap, immediately feeling bad about the taken-aback expression on the Consul’s face.

Steadying yourself on the back of the chair, you miss Nikto taking a firm step forward, his hands at his sides in case you were to trip or fall. He had gotten good at noticing when your feet might get tangled and had taken to silent protection without delay.

“What the hell?” You move away and run a hand down your jacket, trying to push off the panic in your flesh as best you’re able before you make a fool of yourself. Your body shivers and seeps tension, but you make it to the door relatively alright.

“Seraph!”

You’re down the hallway and clenching your eyes tight, turning a corner and smacking your arm into it with a stifled inhale.

Walking, you hear the steady thump of Nikto’s boots behind you, trailing after as his shadow joins the mass of black and gray in your vision. He says nothing until you push open the door and exit the Consulate building entirely, your pupils tiny and mind running.

“You are going to—” Your heels twist from under you, and your mouth releases a squeak before Nikto’s arm jerks out and loops around your waist, steadying you easily before your face can meet the ground.

His hand presses into your side, harsh fingers sitting there as he slightly leans over you. The open street is mostly empty today, so what embarrassment you can glean from this is limited to your stoic guard.

Nikto grunts, making sure you’re not about to do it again, and he pulls you up. He waits until you’re steady to release you, head moving to spear you open with an exasperated tweak of his invisible brow.

You open your mouth to speak but find you have no words to say into the cold air. Turning your head away and walking to the car by yourself, your body is hunched in and bearing the weight of mountains, moments and memories flashing back and forth.

Aly had been blowing up your phone, text after text—call after call asking if you were okay. All you’d managed was a short, ‘I’m okay. At Mom’s work.’

That had stopped the calls, at least, but not the texts.

Nikto unlocked the car just as your hand looped the handle, and you got inside the back seat. The Russian watches from behind on the sidewalk, keys in one hand and the other open to the air. Thinking. He moves his neck from one end of the street to another, face under his mask tense and hard as he breathes slowly. Like some wolf, he only clicks his tongue before loping to the driver’s side.

As you stare hard into your lap, he barks out to you.

“We are taking you to store. Will get good food to make. Proper food.” Your spine straightens itself as the engine groans to life.

“We,” your face goes confused, voice small. Three burnt bodies. Ripped feathers. “We can’t do that…what if…?”

“You will be safe with me. I said this, did I not, Whelp?” Dead eyes move from the reflection of the mirror, glancing at yours. “We are going.”

And that was how you two ended up standing in the black and white grocery store, Nikto causing people to splinter off and regard you both with concerned glances. But some of those stares are your fault as well.

You pass a newspaper as you carry your basket, the picture of a fiery bakery on the front cover—your form clearly desirable. Your body halts at that, blankly watching before a hand settles over your spine.

“Move. I have list.”

“I know you do,” you say weakly, stomach rolling nearly to an alarming level. “Let’s just…do this quick, alright?” Nikto scoffs lightly, but seems to agree with that as he carefully prods you along.

The store was close to your penthouse, expensive, but close. You had told him he could do the shopping. Clearing your throat, you try to distract yourself from staring at every face turned your way—every hidden expression.

What if he knows I’m here? He doesn’t. But how do you know that he doesn’t? He found you at the bakery—he waited for you to show up at work to deliver the box. He knows. He’s watching me. He’s right behind my back, waiting to drag me off somewhere and—

“What are we getting, Nikto?” Your shaking tone leaves you clenching your teeth, blinking away the panic.

You’re fine.

“I tried to understand what you were saying in the kitchen, but my Russian is…bad, to put it lightly.”

“We know.” He’s not looking at you, but instead at the rows of cut meat he had brought you to. Your attention moves from one point on the wall to another, mouth salivating at the thought of good food. With it comes a sliver of guilt. “Many things,” Nikto responds to your previous question.

“Many?” Your brows furrow, turning back. “How many?”

“Many.” You dryly stare at the back of his head as he moves forward, picking up what he wants and disposing of it into your basket.

He carts you around like a pet, hand stuck to the back of your shoulder and fingers an inch away from holding on if you were to knock into something. You don’t know if he knows, but being able to lean into his firm grip made walking that much easier without having to put a hand on the wall.

Perhaps he did know, with how he looks down at you every so often. Your heart warms at that, no matter how much it still fights to break out of your ribcage.

“Where did you learn to cook, then,” you ease out slowly. You need a distraction. “On a military base?”

A single, sharp bark of a laugh makes your head snap up to Nikto and many people down the way startle. It was like a hyena, but in a way, you didn’t expect anything else to come from the man. You don’t know why, but your lips quirk at that, tight hold on your basket lessening.

It was…charming. In a deadly, cold way.

“Нет, Woman. No, no.” His mask meets you. “You do not know what base is like, hm?”

“I can’t say I do,” your attention turns to the hulking form, paranoia sitting in the backseat. But he was speaking to you, and you liked it when he did. “Explain it to me?”

Pale eyes blink at you, head tilting as silence settles.

“Ладно.” He takes a slight breath and you see his vest rise and fall, the strength of his chest pushing it out. “They are strict—tight, yes?”

You listen intently, not looking away. He seems less of a nail in the wall while he’s here, able to focus on what meals he’ll make and how to pair something nicely. That head of his moves back and forth like a bird.

“Not allowed in the военный продовольственный магазин. We only eat when we are told—least,” Nikto hitches a shoulder, blinking at a head of cabbage that he takes and places into a bag before handing it to you. “That is what military base is like. KorTac is different, only PMC. Non-affiliated.”

“I know a little about that part,” you relay, taking the gray lump from him and carefully placing it into the basket. “What made you want to leave the forces, then? The official ones?” Your nose puffs softly. “Was it the food?”

You feel more than see the tension fill his body, and it’s not a second later that his hand pulls from your shoulder and you blink at the back of his head as he leaves you there. Stuck on the tile below your heels, your face is open with innocent confusion.

“Nikto…?” You call after, hiking the basket farther in your grip. But he doesn’t turn around, and soon he takes a sharp left and you’re left alone. It was like a flip had been switched inside of him, such a sudden and dangerous dismissal.

Throat making a small noise, you frown, lips pulling down like a bent cord.

“...Okay,” your voice whispers, and you shake your head to yourself before turning around to walk to the front.

It didn’t take more than two steps before a man pushed past you, bumping into your shoulder as you stumbled at the sharp slam of flesh and bone. Your eyes go wide before you have to slap a hand to the metal of the nearby aisle shelves to stop gravity. Dropping the basket with a loud clatter, you call out a heavy, “Hey!”

Half on the floor, you hurriedly straighten yourself, a hand on the back of your sleeve helping.

“I apologize, Sir, but you really need to look where you’re walking when you’re so close to someone else.” Standing, you take a deep breath and re-situate your purse quickly, pulling on the strap so you don’t lose it. “Lord, that could have been bad.”

What would have happened if you hit your head?

The scar on the back of your skull burns.

“Seraph?” You blink, before your head swivels—the fingers letting go of your sleeve quickly.

You’re surprised by who you see.

“...Sergi?”

The Baker’s Boy had his dark eyes boring into you—his mess of curls looking better than they had been when you’d gone to visit him and sitting under a ball cap. There was the white glare of bandages along his cheeks and neck.

Your spine is tight.

“Hi,” your voice is light and airy. “I didn’t,” you stutter in shock, hand moving down to grab the handles of the basket delicately. “I didn’t expect to see you here. How…how are you doing?”

Sergi doesn’t speak.

A small tone of uncomfortableness seeps into your chest at the intensity of those black voids. Your vision dips to the dark hoodie and pants—the way he sticks his hands into his pockets and backs up a step.

You hadn’t noticed how large Sergi actually was. Tall, biceps built from the strain of working in the bakery every day. At his dead stare, the sides of your eyes train in, fingers tightening over the handle of your belongings in confused hesitance.

Your gaze darts to where Nikto had disappeared and you mirror Sergi’s prior move and back up yourself—a strange game of chess. Your free hand comes to itch at your temple.

“It’s good to see you walking.” Testing an obviously fake laugh, your arms start shaking, the painful pinch of nerves stuck under your skin. “Is the bakery going to be alright?”

Sergi’s phone goes off in his pocket, and his hand snaps to it like lightning. You flinch, heart palpitating though you don’t know why—this man couldn’t be your stalker…he…he couldn’t be.

Then why did your hair stand on end when he looked at you like that?

Before Sergi sets the device to his ear, he turns and says in his broken English—stiffly, worriedly, “Go home, Girl. Take the man with you.”

“Man?” You ask to air before the Baker’s Boy turns and hurries back the way he came. The thought comes slowly and in a moment of chilled air and you place one foot forward after him as your eyes go wide. “...How do you know about Nikto?”

He’s already gone.

People walk past you on their own business, one even clipping your right shoulder again, but you don’t notice above the ringing in your ears when shadows slink past. Your chest is tight, and your lungs are held in the grip of ruthless fingers.

Dead doves. Burnt bodies. Half a man.

You place your free hand over your mouth, fast breath being forced from your throat.

What does it feel like to burn?

“Why are you here?” Nikto’s angry voice is in your head just as his hand grabs onto your arm. You get pulled to face him, face devoid of blood. “Why did you not follow?”

He continues to speak, and you stare blankly into his chest as he does. Nikto’s words grow tight on his tongue, cutting out swiftly as he clocks the expression on your face.

Terror.

The soldier instantly grows taller, a great void looming as his head scans the aisle. He reaches for the grip of his Beretta, resting his expansive palm there as what annoyance can be gleaned dries instantly.

Only a wolf is left behind.

“Explain,” is what he numbly asks, and you push out on a quick breath.

“Baker’s boy—Sergi. Dark hair and eyes, tall; muscular.”

A growl. “What did he do?”

“Nothing,” you gasp and Nikto doesn’t seem to believe you. “He didn’t do anything. I just had a strange feeling, and I-I can’t place it. He knew you were here with me.”

The hand on your arm tightens, squeezing. You pull what little safety you can from it and swaddle yourself like a child in the blanket of his aura. That packaging of brutality like tissue paper.

“I’m gonna be sick,” you huff, body slanting forward. There was so much stress on you—taking you down with it. Days, and weeks, and months. Never getting answers, never thinking it would go this far.

You were a model, for Christ’s sake. You starred in pictures because people said you were pretty. You don’t feel pretty. You feel violated.

“Enough,” the man grunts, moving his grip to your shoulder to push your spine back up. He knows that the individual you speak of is gone, and his teeth grind in on themselves. “No, you are not.”

Saliva pools in your mouth, and you stare at his shoes without saying anything in return.

Hard fingers loop under your chin, and your gaze is forced forward—so much so like he was about to slather mascara on your lashes in the clutter of your room. Panting, you find your nose nearly brushing his as he bends his neck down into you.

“Focus, Woman.”

Focus? Focus on what?

You stare into the paleness of his eyes, finding the layered flecks that shift like a cursed kaleidoscope with glass bits and a broken lens. They aren’t kind eyes, you know. They’re dead and buried, already six feet under and layered with packed dirt—pounded by the path of rushing feet charging into gunfire.

Oh, but they were beautiful.

Forcing oxygen to come back to you, your lids flutter at the heat of his fingers under your chin, intoxicating as his thumb finds your pulse point and presses in; feeling, studying—analyzing with those cold orbs.

And so you do, even unknowingly—you focus on the raw presence of a man already long gone. On a man with cruelty laced into his DNA, seeping from his stone heart.

Why do you feel like this? What had he done to make your face burn at the way his gaze was locked with yours? Nothing was the answer, he had done nothing.

Then why? Why had you chosen him? The answer felt like it was on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite swallow it down. Damnit, your head was hurting.

Did Nikto have a soulmate?

All at once as the word comes back in a slow crash of cold waves, the hand on your chin disappears, and you blink rapidly.

The Russian bear grunts as you take a long breath and quickly look away from his direct gaze. Nikto’s covered face tilts, sliding over the color of your eyes and clenching his jaw before he rips his attention away.

Your scent was in his nostrils.

“We are leaving. Немедленно.” Nikto barks, and you've checked out before you can tell him you were going to pay, the man handing over a wad of rubles from his wallet and slapping it to the front.

He shoves past and snatches the bags, lugging all of the ingredients back to the car in one hand as his other rarely strays from his weapon. You have your arms wrapped around your waist as you hurry after, loathed to be separated from him again as your body moves to look along the open area. But no Sergi.

Your shoulders pull in, and somehow, that doesn’t make you feel any better.

Would he really destroy his family's bakery? Kill three people? He had never seemed the type when you had gone into that quaint building—he had been kind. Something wasn’t adding up, but at the same time…there was no mistaking that feeling in your gut. Was it all a coincidence?

You shouldn’t have to think like this.

The drive back to your penthouse is quiet, and you desperately wish to ask what Nikto plans to do about this. The answer is apparent when the elevator door opens and he slinks off without a word—pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing up a number before he enters the downstairs storage room.

Your eyes close in a moment of forced calm, and you grab the bags and lug them inside with a grimace on your face and a strain in your muscles. Glancing at your mounted deer head, you frown at it.

“He wasn’t lying about ‘many’, was he?” You ask it quietly, and its gray form offers no answer as its adornments glint like stars. For the first time, the stale air makes your chest tighten.

You had everything put away by the time Nikto came back out—a long and growled call that you could hear but not understand beyond a few barks of Sergi’s name. He had sounded angry, and you’d heard his feet pacing.

The man didn’t like interference with his charge; the officers needed to get better at their jobs.

When Niko’s gruff voice calls to you, your head shifts easily to the side from where you lay on the couch—scrolling through the texts you’d gotten from Aly and your newsfeed.

“I am making пирожки́, Pirozhki.” Your brows pull in. Was…he not going to talk about what just happened? You potentially just got a lead on your tormenter. “You will watch, yes? Learn. Eat.”

“Who did you call?” Your voice carries over the space as you stand. “What did they say?”

“Lead investigator,” is the stiff answer as ingredients are gathered, gloves taken off, and folded neatly before being placed on the counter. “The boy has already been cleared.”

You nearly trip before as ease yourself down into the island seat, mouth going slack as you stutter. “What? Even after this? Did you tell them that he knew about you—?”

“Their logic says that since he was in explosion, he can not be the cause.” A look is tossed over his shoulder as he washes his hands. “I told them to look again, but I am only a hired gun, Girl. No standing with them beyond prior work for military.”

His accent grows deeper and deeper with his anger, and you have a hard time understanding the last portion—nonetheless, you get the point.

“He wasn’t acting right,” you mutter to yourself, fingers intertwined on the countertop. “Maybe I was wrong, but…” Your voice trails and a cutting board is clattered to the area in front of you; you startle and look at Nikto in surprise.

Pale eyes boar.

“A feeling is all you need. Do not mistake them, they will keep you alive.”

“Little bit morbid,” you nervously chuckle, face twisting.

His hidden throat jerks in a baritone scoff. “It is life.”

Mushrooms and potatoes are organized—minced meat separated from the head of cabbage. A bowl is produced, and water, yeast, and sugar are added in to proof. Through these quick and efficient actions, you try to get rid of the growing hunger in your stomach, or at least quell it with a glass of wine you get for yourself.

But you can see Nikto’s bare hands as they level out a knife and send it down into the cabbage, you lock onto the deep scars that peel over his hands as he pulls the food into two pieces.

You restrain a small gasp, clearly able to understand what they are as the paleness of his complexion grows even lighter in those areas. Expansive—can see where the sutures had gone in; tiny dots in the flesh that pull and flex. Nikto’s brutish fingers are not saved from those marks either, and you hadn’t noticed before, but on his left hand, his index finger was shorter than the others. You can find the jagged pieces of gray skin that curl over where the last third of his digit should be.

Struggling to open your mouth and speak, you look away swiftly before a slow realization blooms in your chest.

Maybe there was a darker reason he never took off his mask. Those marks weren’t made from any kind hand.

Struggling to add this to your catalog of full files, you bring your wine glass to your lips and take a small sip, enjoying the feeling as it settles in your stomach. After a long minute of his silent work, you begin the next round of questioning, choosing not to comment.

“What do you think about all of this?” His chopping pauses but he doesn’t glance at you before he gets back into it. “And be honest, please.”

“I am always honest,” Nikto grunts, pushing away the cabbage and getting to the mushrooms with his decimated hand. A harsh sigh. “I would have this ended in a day. Pointless hoops and politics. They do not care about you, you know this?”

“Yeah, I think that’s pretty obvious,” you agree lowly, cradling your glass as you continue. “But the gifts, and all of that—do you think there’s any hope for DNA?”

“Нет. We do not.” Your heart drops. “If this individual was smart enough to fashion an explosive with that much firepower; a detonator, then there will be no remnants of him on box.”

“The…” Your face is locked with his, and he blinks slowly like a cat. “The contents don’t worry you? The thought of more like that?” Dead doves. Dead animals. Dead people. Who was to say this creep wouldn’t kill someone else and send you their body parts next?

“I have seen worse things, Whelp,” Nikto states slowly, though not unkindly. “The problem is if you insist on it yourself.”

Your face heats at the eye contact he levels with you, and you grow somewhat sheepish, even if the conversation makes your expression serious.

The air is hot here, and your button-up shifts as you reach to bring your drink back to you as flour is added to the yeast mixture. Nikto’s form looked funny, mixing in the white stain of the ingredient in such a regular-sized bowl.

The man waits for your answer as he works, and he stops inadvertently when you do with a small utterance and a tense twitch of your lips.

“I just don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me, y’know?” Nikto flickers his eyes to stare, but he says nothing until he returns to his job a long, heated, minute later, his hand flexing over the handle of his whisk. You hear the small vibration of a grunt. The smell of yeast is in the air, mixing and swelling when the meat is added to a pan with the cabbage, mushrooms, and potatoes that had been brought to a boil prior.

It made your stomach roll like a lava field—and you pushed out through a tight throat, “How many calories are in this?”

“Not important,” Nikto says, turning on the oven. “You will eat.”

Your tongue licks your lips, trying to taste the food in the air like a snake would; head shaking. God, that smelled good.

“It’s…not that simple, Big Guy.” Nikto scoffs.

“You will like it. Easy dish.” You roll your eyes and let yourself acknowledge how tired you feel and it isn’t even that late into the afternoon.

Nikto stirs the food, and you watch him break a piece of meat and check the color to see if it’s ready—you’re just about to tell him about the food thermometer in the drawer, but the words fizzle away.

The man hums in approval and takes the pan off the heat.

Yet the grand revelation of his ability to see in more than black and white was hurriedly cut short by the buzzing of your phone in your pants, and your slackened face is snapped away at least for a moment, though your mind runs. You peel the device out with an unsteady hand, flipping it over to stare at the text from your mother through tight revelation.

‘The investigators couldn’t find any fingerprints. They said they need more. Galina relayed that your manager wasn’t in his office when the package showed up. No one knows where it came from or who could have gotten in without being noticed by the cameras. They’ll both call you in the morning to explain.’

Your disappointments keep stacking up and up, and this just takes the cake.

“You were right,” you tell Nikto as he folds dough and stuffs the filling in. He glances over with a twinkle in his eye. “No fingerprints.”

“Cameras?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. I’m getting a call in the morning.” The soldier clicks his tongue at that, moving back to grab an oven-safe vessel. You think about mentioning his ability to see color, but with how he was freely speaking to you, you thought it wrong to potentially make him shut down as he had in the elevator and at the store.

Nikto was intent on being a brick wall.

“Loops, Girl.” He snarls. “There was none of this in my employment. We were told to shoot, we shoot.”

“I think there would be a bigger problem if you went on a killing spree, Nikto,” you half-heartedly tease, feeling worn out. “But I guess I agree with you on that.”

“Perfect. You see sense, finally.” Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but you swear you saw his eyes flicker with amusement.

“Don’t let your head get too big,” you grumble, finishing off the last of your drink and swirling the remnants of its dark color at the bottom of your glass. “I can barely take your attitude as it is.”

“Our pride is good trait.” He lets the food cook, walking over and putting his humongous hands on the counter, either side of the cutting board from prior. Nikto looks down at you as you stare up, wanting to peel back his brain and see what is under there—a monster? Or a scarred man?

If there was a harsh mixture of both, you’re sure that would be the answer.

“Makes us strong.”

“Headstrong, yes,” you smirk, pointing at his chest. He scoffs, head pulling back for a moment in a rare animated display as his eyes narrow.

“You are certainly not from Russia, Woman.”

You raise your empty glass in your joking toast, heart beating just the tiniest bit more calm.

“Certainly not.” Nikto barks that hyena chuckle and flicks the item with a finger, making it ping for a moment as you chuckle before setting it down to the side and sliding it away.

“Thank you for cooking, I haven’t had a good meal in a while.”

The man hums, looking away as if not able to comprehend a kind expression freely given to him. Your heart swoons. “You have not eaten it yet,” he reminds.

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t good.” You smile honestly at him. “I bet it’s fantastic.”

Nikto’s fingers flicker over the counter, twitching back in for a moment. But he does meet your stare, inspecting every piece of your face for a long, pulse-pounding moment. Electricity is in the air, and you don’t know if you’re the only one to feel it or not.

You hope you’re not.

You said you wouldn’t get involved, you remind yourself, but the inner voice is tiny now. He’s not Yefim, you placate it for now with a honied vision of fake domestically with a wolf.

Nikto was the complete opposite of Yefim.

An angel to a devil, a saint to a sinner. These men were taking over your thoughts in a ravaging war of memory and duty. Yet now…now you might have an answer as to why.

Nikto’s eyes narrow on you slowly, horribly scarred digit tapping the material under it before he clears his throat raggedly. You like his scars.

“It will be done soon.”

The man turns and begins cleaning up, and you ease out with a small laugh, “Are you sure you don’t want an apron?”

His annoyed growl returns, and you find you haven’t thought of Sergi or his strange behavior in a good while.

When the food is ready, you take a single fluffy bun and put it on your plate while Nikto takes six. You have to appreciate his appetite, at least, hearing him sigh low at the small of his creation. But before he leaves to take off his mask and eat by himself, he motions a stiff hand.

“Eat.”

You laugh, “Nikto, come on.” He isn’t laughing; isn’t blinking. Your throat bobs with a swallow, suddenly nervous. Your head moves to what you would have to cut back on later today as the scent of fresh bread and filling fills your senses.

You wanted to eat this, but you felt guilty about it.

One bite, you tell yourself. One bite isn’t bad.

The lack of food, and yet the temptation of it, infected your blood as Nikto watched you pick the Pirozhki up and bring it to your lips, teeth biting down into ashy cushioning before the salt of the meat and the other ingredients coated your mouth.

Your stomach sinks.

It was damn near heavenly.

You chew quickly as if your body is fighting itself to have you swallow it down. “It's good,” you lick your lips, hand already moving to bring it back up before you stop yourself with tension in your bones.

“It’s,” you say again, shifting your feet from under you as you stand near the oven. “It’s very good, Nikto. Just like I thought it would be.”

Those pale eyes, unblinking, flick down to the bun in your hand.

“...Hearty meal,” he explains, picking up his plate. “Eat as many as you wish, yes?”

He disappears up to his room, and you hear the door shut moments later. You watch the stairs blankly, unconsciously bringing the food to your lips and nibbling on the corner of your bite.

He was a good cook—this could end up being a problem. You already had a hard time looking at yourself in the mirror; add in meals that hold higher numbers? Your esophagus was already closing in on itself. It wasn’t just as simple as telling someone to eat, especially as a model.

You did eat, but it all was leveled and stacked. There was a limit you needed to keep.

But, hell, this was truly delicious.

In the time you spend in the kitchen, gorging yourself with half a mind to stop and the other egging you to keep going, you think. And you wonder.

Nikto had found his soulmate.

Could that be the reason for your attraction? For your wandering thoughts? It had to be, you reason. No one had ever caught your eye like him—the way you had become so comfortable and felt so safe around him despite his appearance and attitude. It had to be.

Your face stills.

So why hadn’t he told you?

You mull over your racing brain, your heart skipping beats. The two of you are oblivious in opposite corners of your penthouse; your minds on the other.

Downstairs, having been sneakily placed inside your jacket pocket hours before, lays the paper envelope of a hand-written letter.

TAGS:

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st-dionysus · 1 year

Text

Note from an angry trans man.

Of course, I’m angry. Who wouldn’t be. Dead children, dead teachers, a trans man to blame and the world ready to blame every single one of us instead of a single person -- instead of mental illness -- instead of guns -- instead of all the horrors that surround us. Eager to blame our HRT, our transitioning, our existence. Trans sisters who should be standing up against the abuse and shame put on their brothers – who instead decide to reject us, to blame us for anti-trans legislation, to group us all with Aiden Hale. To further stigmatize testosterone and trans-manhood. To act as though we are the harbinger of doom.

Of course, I’m angry. Dead trans people fill the news and wiki articles. Trans men among the corpses, but we don’t say their names. The bodies of FTM children left on the road, genitals mutilated, and newspapers printed with the wrong name and pronouns. Misgendered in death. Misgendered in rape, assault, and murder statistics. Misgendered in the publication of his horrific crime.

Of course, I’m angry. One of my brothers killed six people – three children and three adults. “Police then killed 28-year-old shooter Audrey Aiden Hale, who investigators said left behind a manifesto and detailed maps about how to carry out the attack. Law enforcement officials have not shared details about a suspected motive.”

Of course, I’m angry. The Nashville shooting was the 128th US mass shooting this year. There were 127 other mass shootings this year (and it’s only the end of March), most of which we did not talk about, most of which we did not address. More than 348,000 students have experienced gun violence at school since Columbine. There has been 89 school shooting incidents in the USA so far in 2023.

I want to rip something apart with my hands. I want to scream. I want to bleed. There is rage in my body, and it’s locked away behind tears and prayers. I consider cutting for the first time in over a year. I think about drinking myself to death or blowing my brains out in protest, but I don’t want to leave my cat alone, I don’t want my friends to cry about me, or to leave my lover heart-broken. I don’t want to be another dead trans man. I don’t want to be another name on the list of FTMs that have killed themselves. I’m already a part of the 50% of the FTM population who has tried at least once, I don’t want to try again. More than that, I don’t want my deadname to be the name I die with. I don't want to be seen as a dead woman.

I watch people die every day. I fear the deaths of my grade-school siblings. I fear the death of my loved ones. I fear walking into a gay bar and being carried out in a body bag.

Of course, I’m angry. It must be the testosterone.

#Saint Speaks #Death mention #nashville shooting #aiden hale #child death #gun violence #transphobia #transandrophobia #testosterone is not evil #ask to tag #self harm

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slashersgostabbystabstab · 9 months

Text

Impulses

[MALE] Xenomorph x Reader

There are many benefits to being a science officer

Update: If you like this fic, make sure you read the other one I wrote! It's a NSFW fic with this same Xenomorph character~

This is my first fic ever for the Xenomorph, and it's a rather lengthy one that I hope to write at least another part for. Just some info: I understand that there's a gray area in which the Xenomorph lands so the one I have written here is one that is a man-made hybrid creation. It still very much looks like a Xenomorph but it's changed up a bit. I think the fic describes a bit more in detail.

Sorry if it sucks, I got very much into detail after doing so much Alien lore research and this doesn't even seem like an x reader, I also apologize if it's shit, I am so desperate to post this that I just didn't even bother to revise it. I'll do it tomorrow 'cause it's late right now lol ;7; Feels like I'm writing the next Alien movie lmao

Warnings: Mention of death/corpses. Some violence (ya know, the movies are action packed with the marine corps and such). Not sure what else to mark but please do message me if you feel I should add something

Words: 7,145

Being the Demeter’s science officer had its perks, but it unfortunately also came with its share of detriments such as any other job did. But then again, your particular career choice had its own kind of drawbacks that would make the average person not take the position. Sure most science officer positions didn’t come with so many risks, but being the science officer for THIS ship’s crew was a whole other experience.

Coming onto the crew it was made clear what you were to expect. It was made clear what conditions you would be made to work under, and you somehow still decided this was the path for you. It was made clear that your crew’s purpose was a mission only a specific bunch of associates was picked.

On planet 212, also known as Gethov, there was tale of an overly faithful group of persons. Or without the polite sugar coating provided: your crew was meant to investigate what it could of the possible cult that inhabited the planet. And after spending more than enough time camping out on the planet, it was quite obviously not a possibility but the fact that there indeed was a cult deep within the planet.

But this was in no way no ordinary cult, whatever the hell that meant, this group of pious persons devoted themselves to the very thing that threatened the human race as well as others.

These crazy bastards worshiped Xenomorphs.

They worshiped every kind of Xeno, every shape and form of theirs; even the man-made ones. They venerated the creatures so much that, based on your gained knowledge, they made it their goal to bring life to as many Xenomorphs as they could.

Xenomorphs were believed to have been completely eradicated, even after the mess created by the Weyland-Yutani corporation’s greed. Thankfully they went under great scrutiny in the 90’s before being completely outlawed in 2349 along with numerous other corps. But even things like that weren’t going to stop at least one bastard from starting the whole process again.

Mother’s Order of Propagation. That was the name of the cult created by Charles Lincoln, former executive officer who was so dedicated to helping Xenomorphs reproduce that he, not only groomed his science officer into joining, but he went as far as making recruits “a part of the hive”. One could not easily integrate themselves into the hive, not unless they were covered in Xenomorph pheromones or…implanted themselves with chestbursters.

And that was exactly what the order did. It wasn’t the first time such a phenomenon was heard of, other cults having done what was a delayed gestation in which they could hold the parasite for a longer period. Not only were they able to blend in easier with the Xenomorphs, but they were able to live long enough to take victims of their own to aid in Xenomorph breeding.

Which led to the current position you found yourself in.

You had decided to step out of the base for just a moment, merely wanting to gather a sample of Xenomorph resin one of your crewmates mentioned to you earlier that day. It would be quick, even if it was from a distance from the base. But when you spotted what could have been some other person not a part of your crew and actually one of the cult members, your black out was no doubt quick.

It was uncertain just what the devotees did to knock you out, everything had happened too fast for you to process just how many of these people had even come to find you. There was an intense throbbing in your head the moment you finally awoke, that possibly a hint as to what they did. Your eyes initially shut tightly before they opened to a blurred sight in front of you, the darkness shrouding you not providing the slightest bit of help. However, there appeared to be a sufficient amount of illumination coming from the work lights you spotted strategically scattered around the area you found yourself in.

“Finally awake.” a man spoke to you, his voice somewhat familiar as you realized just how you were currently positioned him. “Didn’t think you’d wake up again. Not like that entirely matters.”

“This is one Kingston wants alive.” a different man stated while you lifted your head as best as you could, feeling as each man had an arm under yours to drag you behind them. Your boots dragged along the murky ground, leaving lines dunked into it before a noise caught your attention. But soon your boots were accompanied by those belonging to others, all in similar positions as you. The difference being that all of these people were already deceased.

“Where the hell am I?” you bared your teeth at the men who didn’t even bother to give you a response. However, your much needed answer seemed to come soon as you took in your surroundings.

Your eyes soon widened at the countless amount of corpses before you turned your head to the side: no matter where you looked, there were cadavers everywhere, and they were unfortunately accompanied by other bodies. These bodies, unlike them, were well and alive. Healthy and strong. Bloodthirsty.

“Don’t mind them, they’re just making sure something good was brought in.” The first man mocked reassurance, looking behind himself to smile in your direction before he returned his gaze to the front as more of these bodies appeared.

The bodies of Xenomorph, full fleshed out creatures who observed you from a distance. You could barely make up the shapes of their bodies, but you knew they were there: patiently waiting for some order. All around you you were able to hear hisses with slight shrieks mixed in every now and then, almost as if what resided in the darkness watched you and communicated. In all the time you investigated what went on with this cult, you would have never imagined such a number of Xenomorphs.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” the other member questioned as he gazed around the hive, practically grinning in awe at the fruits of the cult’s labor. “These beauties never cease to amaze me.

You made a face at his words before attempting to rip your arm away from him, but his grip on your suddenly grew tight and even somewhat painful.

“Nice try.”

A low groan rumbled in your throat at your poor attempt, allowing the men to continue dragging you. You didn’t want to give up just yet, but your only choice at the moment was to unfortunately go along with whatever these demented assholes had in store for you. Based on the bodies that the drones explored all over, it was already clear what they were planning to do with you.

Soon enough however, the men came to an abrupt stop that prompted you to look up at them. They stood still, frozen almost, merely staring up ahead of them before the reason came to mind. From in front of them you could already hear a specific kind of hiss that accompanied a trail of light yet still audible footsteps. A hiss was then heard, right before the footsteps came to your front where you were now being interrogated.

Before you stood a typical drone, a tad bit nosier than the rest of the hive who continued on with their business despite having caught sight of their new victim. The drone was nothing short from menacing as you watched it cock its head to the side to properly examine you. The situation became all the more appalling when the alien hunched its figure down to your face. Its silver teeth clenched in your face with a threatening hiss as it hovered mere inches from your nose, right before it dashed away from your location in an instant as if satisfied with what was brought in. A wave of relief overcame as you were spared for just a few moments longer, but as if one cue, a new kind of danger was presented soon after the Xenomorph’s departure.

“Took the two of you long enough.” you now heard a third voice before the men harshly dropped you to the ground, and you landed on your back before you looked up to see a new pair of legs. Their owner surveyed you with his aged and tired eyes, right before you were given a soft smile from the man. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

You realized who this man was, Joseph Kingston: the science officer who followed right behind Lincoln. He knew of you just as you knew about him, but this was the first time either of you had actually come face to face after numerous battles concerning your shared field. You were each a threat to each other, a fact both of you acknowledged.

Immediately, you made another attempt at escaping. You jumped to your feet as quickly as you could, shoving the lackeys away from you while racing through the resin covered hive. But in spite of that, your adrenaline-filled efforts soon came to an end when you skid to a stop the moment something jumped in front of you. You once again found yourself on your back, flinching at the sight of a new Xenomorph that pounced right in front of you.

You brought your hands up to your face to defend yourself from the creature that snarled rather loudly as it leaned down towards you. The alien opened its mouth to reveal its inner jaw, ready to strike you right through the head, but it retrieved its second mouth the moment a thunderous cry throughout the hive.

The Xenomorph momentarily turned its attention away from you, eventually returning it to give you one last hiss before scampering away along with some of the other drones who paid no mind to you. Many of these creatures ran by you and the trio of men who considered following them after hearing what you knew was the call from a higher-ranking Xenomorph, but they decided to stay in place when they were reminded of your presence.

“To the royal chamber.”

“The royal chamber?” one of the minions blinked at the scientist who broke the silence between you all, right after he and the other man made sure to restrain you yet again. “A-Are you sure?”

“You bastards! What the hell do you want from me!?” you yelled while attempting to kick your way out of their grasp. “Let me go!”

“I think our little scientist here is eager to learn more about our creations.” Kingston spoke before turning on his heel, having the men follow behind him as you continued to struggle again. Though, one of the men made sure to give you a good kick to the leg to ease you down. “I know how much you’ve researched my Xenomorphs, and I just think it’d be fun to give you some hands-on experience. Like a real science officer.

You winced at your newfound pain as you were dragged through the seemingly empty hive, giving a quiet moan before you finally came across another human. Not like that exactly mattered considering how it was just another one of these cultists who beamed at your presence.

“Tell Lincoln we’re taking this one to the royal chamber.”

“I think he’ll be very pleased to hear you’ve finally acquired the Demeter’s science officer.” the other member crooked her head at you, making sure to look your form up and down. So they had been wanting to get you for a while now…that Xenomorph resin your crewmate came across may have just been some kind of bait. “It’s invigorating to see that our mission is coming to full fruition.”

Before you could get any words out, the pair of men shoved and forced you as Kingston resumed his walking through the hive as if it were any ship. Although the scientist eventually did turn his attention back to you, grinning at you with complete pride.

“What are you planning Kingston?” you directed a glare his way, and you realized the enthusiasm he attempted to contain at your question. “What do you need me for?”

“Well you see, we don’t necessarily need you. Any body will do perfectly fine, but we thought it best that the body belong to the one person who’s been pointing out all of our weaknesses. It’s easier to produce more Xenomorphs when there isn’t some other scientist disrupting every one of me and Lincoln’s plans.” Kingston replied before returning his attention to the front.

“So you brought me all the way to your hive just to have one of your creatures kill me?” you spat out before receiving another shove from the men holding you. “That seems almost useless. My crew isn’t stupid enough to come crashing into a place like this just to get their science officer.”

“Your crew is a matter for a different time.” he stated, now standing before an entrance that he opened by dialing a code into the number pad. “We just need a fellow scientist to support our cause.”

“And what exactly is that?” you questioned, but you were soon interrupted by the familiar sounds of Xenomorphs hissing. This time around though, one of the Xenomorphs’ noises stood out from the rest who decided to remain hidden.

You felt the sudden need to hold your breath the moment a stomping was heard just outside the corridor you were currently in. Even the men with you couldn’t help but take a moment to themselves, their hands gripping you tighter as if to conceal the slight apprehension overcoming them. Although these guys were committed to their so-called cause, they were quite conspicuous with their terror: but weren’t most religious zealots the type to fear their own gods?

The stomping, although slow-moving proved to arrive fast, and the figure cast by their creator came soon, approaching from the deeper end of the hallway. It was clear that this silhouette was immense, belonging to something sizeable that eventually stepped into the light with one of its feet before the second followed. And after its legs came the torso and the rest of its body, displayed and almost glistening under the work lights that illuminated it.

“Holy shit,” you finally remembered to breathe, backing up in the only way you could before the men holding you gave in and followed your actions.

“Specimen number 7.” Kingston’s voice proudly declared before he stepped in front of you and the men. “I’m delighted that he’s decided to make an appearance.”

“He?”

“Yes, he.” he reiterated, standing tall in front of the Xenomorph who stopped in its tracks to look down at the scientist, no doubt immediately recognizing him as one of its own. “Number 7 is my finest creation, a male Praetorian who has taken charge of the hive after our queen’s unfortunate demise. Until we create her replacement, he has self-proclaimed himself the temporary leader. Nobody seemed to have any dispute against it.”

Kingston turned away from the Xenomorph along with the alien who made sure to flash its teeth to you; this was yet another one of its features that you quickly realized did not belong to the typical Praetorian. Putting aside the topic of its sex, this one lacked the metallic-colored teeth all Xenomorphs had. Its head crest, although not so different from the female royal guards', seemed to have its own quicks, perhaps even larger. And its color wasn’t the typical jet-black, but it instead had a midnight blue kind of black to it. While female Praetorians stood at at least 10 feet, this one was slightly shorter than that height; as if it even made a difference.

“What’s the point in making a male specimen when Xenomorphs have always been a female-based species?” you spat out before the alien took a step towards you, a successful attempt to intimidate you as Kingston chuckled at the sight. “How…how did you even tame it?”

“I didn’t tame Seven,” Kingston made sure to make the statement as the alien peered down at him, well aware of what the man spoke. “Considering how Xenomorphs went into extinction, save for the embryos we were able to salvage, we had to fill in certain gaps at times. This guard is somewhat of a hybrid, containing human DNA in his genetics to better bond with…me. All of us members of the order. And since the Xenomorph’s genetics have been altered and controlled by me, I was able to design a male. I’m sure you know how biology works.”

Kingston made sure to lean towards you after stepping away from the Xenomorph, giving you another one of his sinister smiles.

“Although hermaphroditic, we must ensure our Xenomorphs can reproduce with each other if another corporation or the government attempts to eradicate what we’ve worked so hard to make.” he disclosed before facing the alien one more time. “Now imagine the wonders Seven could perform if we were to give him a queen that won’t die out as easily as our last one. That poor girl…like most women, she just wasn’t the type to listen. Too resistant. Too many casualties thanks to her resistance.”

“You killed your own queen?”

“She belonged dead. This hive has no place for a queen that will turn the others against us.”Kingston posited in a much darker tone. “Which is where you come in.”

“W-What?”

“Killing you off is too simple, as is implanting a typical chestburster.” you watched the man step away from you and into the chamber meant for your end. The two men holding you intended on taking you inside with Kingston, but the Praetorian stepped once again to stop them in their tracks.

The Xenomorph hunched its towering form to take a better look at your face, giving some kind of a trill before it backed away from you.

“It seems, Seven approves of our choice.” you heard Kingston speak from the room. “Come inside.”

“No!” you exclaimed as you began to kick around again. “Let me go, you sick fucks! Let me go!”

The Praetorian watched as you were led to your doom, eventually making its way back into the corridor as you continued to shout for your release.

“I thought you’d be more ecstatic to indulge in this, seeing how much you enjoy studying our Xenos.” Kingston gave a small laugh as you saw him wearing thich gloves, these with the intention to hold a monstrosity smaller than the drones. In his hands he tightly held a facehugger, but not an ordinary one. “Seven and Lincoln are more than happy to have you as the royal host.”

“Get that thing away from me!”

“Shhh, you wouldn’t want to wake the baby.” he teased while drawing the alien closer to your face. “Here, no one can hear you scream.”

Horror filled your body at the sight of the royal facehugger that spread its webbed digits as it readied itself for your face. You struggled against the grip of the men who were careful enough to keep their heads away from yours, and this ultimately gave you your last chance.

Despite the men’s restraints having become somewhat loose, they restrained you tight enough to give you the right stability that allowed you to kick your leg forwards. In the adrenaline-filled moment, you were able to kick high enough to rip the chestburster out of Kingston’s hands, sending it flying across the room much to the men’s shock.

While the lackeys gasped dumbfounded at the flying facehugger, you ripped your arm out from one of them to give him a good elbow to the face. The man immediately dropped down as you proceeded to repeat your actions on the second man, sending him to his back while Kingston boiled with a newfound anger.

“You, good-for-nothing scoundrel!” he seethed from his spot before turning his attention to his men. “Get the facehugger! Ensure she’s alright!”

You looked around the area, considering escaping through the doorway like a sensible person would, but for a moment you considered that running through a hive full of xenomorph drones was not the wisest of choices. On the slick and damp ground, the royal facehugger seemed to notice you after the lackeys backed away so as to not get infested, and you reacted fast.

From your suit’s pocket you pulled out a screwdriver you always kept on your person, managing to strike the facehugger as it jumped in your direction.The screwdriver stabbed smack-down in the middle of its slit where its longer organ would have unveiled itself, and this singular stab was more than enough to have it fall limp much to Kingston’s dismay.

“No! No, no, no!” he cried out, the calm demeanor from before having completely disappeared as he was filled with an intense fury.

Not wanting to deal with him any longer, you scurried out of the doorway despite not knowing what your next plan of action was. All you could do was run, run as fast and quietly as your body allowed you to.

All around you you once again heard the Xenomorphs communicate amongst you while Kingston yelled from behind, even going as far as calling out to his pet. Realizing the danger this posed, you ran into a nearby chamber you hoped they would not suspect.

You weren’t sure just how you managed to hide yourself as well as you did, but it seemed to be effective with the way in which the Xenomorph drones avoided the room you were in. Perhaps in the process of creating these creatures, they unintentionally made them less functional than their natural counterparts. No matter, you took the opportunity to make yourself at home deeper in the chamber as you realized it wasn’t a den but…more of a storage room. It really was shocking to see how much these Xenomorphs allowed the cult to integrate themselves within the hive.

Turning away from the open entrance, you took notice of the resin-covered furniture inside the room that seemed to keep items of importance inside. This room in particular seemed to be a bit more secluded, perhaps another reason for the drones not bothering to come.

You immediately began to look through the drawers and cabinets, unfortunately not finding very much other than some work tools, desk supplies and containers. Honestly, the best you could work with were the tools which even then were useless against Xenomorphs, the most you could defend yourself from were face huggers. Supplies like pens and clipboards weren’t going to do much either, and these containers…

Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight of the jars, actually piquing your interest to see what was behind the cylinder glass. You rotated the canister in every possible angle to figure out its contents, and you were finally able to find a label with what you knew was Kingston’s handwriting.

“Royal jelly,” you mumbled, a sudden realization hitting you. “Holy shit.”

Somehow, someway…this was going to be your leverage against the cult members, at least them. At least against Kingston, for you knew the value this substance held. And it didn’t surprise you that most of the room was filled with these cylinders, which were immediately pulled out by you and dropped to the ground before you took a maintenance jack from the drawers to smash the glass.

Royal jelly was the key ingredient used when producing Xeno-Zip, a powerful drug that could enhance one’s body while tearing apart their mind. And if the order was in possession of such quantities, no doubt having collected it from their latest queen, you knew they weren’t going to use it to make drugs. Their intentions were clearly to enhance their creations’ performance, or even ingest it raw themselves. Hell, they might have already done that considering how long some of these members survived with a chestburster residing in their bodies.

You then proceeded to smash another one of the containers, and you continued to do so until there were less than ten left. One would consider the destruction a waste of time, but you knew it was needed to prevent more of this cult’s progression as well as be ready when somebody eventually found you.

And that they did soon enough, for while you attempted to destroy another one of the containers, you heard a familiar thundering of footsteps as a hand grasped onto your wrist.

“Don’t you dare!” came Kingston’s voice before he threw you to the side, enraged at your actions from the moment you kicked his facehugger. “You bastard! Hellion! Do you realize what you’re doing!?”

“Of course I do!” you recovered quickly before reaching out to a nearby cylinder, but the man dared to step on your open hand as harshly as he could which caused you to cry out in pain. Before he had any time to react, you took a pen from your suit’s pocket to stab him right in the leg.

Now it was his turn to wail, falling onto his bottom before his creation from before appeared in the doorway with a full-blown roar. Perhaps the Praetorian didn’t care much for the jelly like Kingston and his members did, but you still took the opportunity to take what you could of the containers despite your aching hand.

“Let me get out! Or I’ll break what’s left of these!” you threatened while holding one of the jars above your head.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Let. Me. Out.”

Kingston could only glare at you from the ground as his alien awaited an order from behind him, snarling while drool dripped from its teeth.

“Seven,” he began before groaning at the pain your pen in his leg caused, soon pulling the item from him to spew out a mixture of blood and ink. “I believe it’s about time we terminate the science officer.”

Your eyes widened at his words, somehow appalled by his command. So before the Xenomorph could properly process the doctor, you launched the jar in your hand at its head. And soon enough, you watched as it stood in place, practically seething like the doctor was earlier.

That…that honestly may not have been the smartest choice.

“You-!” Kingston began once again, but he was interrupted by the sound of his alien roaring yet again.

Instinctively, you threw another jar at the Xenomoprh before it exploded just like the last one, coating its head crest in the fluids while some dripped down its face. You hurled another one, astonished when the Xenomorph skillfully moved its head to avoid this attack which caused you to drop the other containers from your arms, ignoring the anguished scream from Kingston.

With nothing else able to save you from the Xenomorph’s clutches, you backed up as far as you could, until your boot came into contact with some of the jelly from a jar you had previously broken. In an instant, you slipped and found yourself on the ground near the man who attempted to crawl at you while your heard screeches from outside the chamber. The room was soon filled with drones who stood by the Praetorian, awaiting any form of instruction as they watched you and the man struggle.

“You…you ruined EVERYTHING!” Kingston yelled before throwing himself at you, and you immediately attempted to wrestle him off while all the Xenomorphs watched.”Seven! Kill! Terminate! End it!”

Kingston had gone mad to the point of trying to clench at your throat with his bloody hands, waiting for the aliens to help him out in finishing you off. But he and you soon came to realize none of them bothered to move an inch, not until the Praetorian gave the order. An order that never came.

Instead, while still fighting off Kingston, you noticed as the alien grit its teeth with a growl before turning to the drones. A command was soon given. And it was not the command Kingston desired.

“What are you doing!?” he shouted at the Xenomorph who roared and trilled before the drones began to step backwards. They were quite hesitant about it, but they listened to the Praetorian before turning and jumping on all fours, soon scurrying away to leave the three of you alone. “Seven! What the hell are you doing!?”

The Praetorian now made its way to you and Kingston who paused his actions, turning to look at the alien who leaned down with a shriek.

You covered your ears at the volume before the Xenomorph finally grit its fangs again, no doubt having given Kingston a warning.

“Seven! Why-?”

Once again, the Praetorian gave a roar as well as stomp of its foot. It wanted you alone. Oh shit. You were pretty sure at this point the alien found every single one of your actions personal and was not going to allow Kingston to finish you off.

The alien warned Kingston with one last threatening stomp, and the message finally seemed to get through to the man’s thick skull.

You felt Kingston release you before crawling off of your body, his eyes never tearing away from the Xenomorph who made sure to give a hiss.

The man shot you one last glare before he too raced out of the room. The bastard was smart enough to make sure to shut the door with a code, as if you had any form of escape against a monster such as this one.

Once again, you backed away as fast as your hands allowed you while you slid across the scattered royal jelly. The alien observed you as you managed to get up onto your feet, trembling while reaching out to the countertops where you tried to find some kind of a tool you knew would do nothing to the Xenomorph. It turned away for a moment to examine the chamber, its attention on the jelly staining the ground.

Your hands found a wrench that you instantly brought up and held in front of you, ignoring the intense shaking from your hands. The Praetorian immediately snapped its head in your direction, at least as fast as its large head crest would allow. Its maw practically pointed at your form, tightly clenching the teeth inside as an audible hiss sounded from behind the row of fangs. Although the alien lacked any discernible eyes and brow bones to distinguish any sort of expression, it was apparent the way in which it peered at you.

It used one of its claws to swing at the wrench you held, and your weapon soon went flying to the side where you dashed to. But the alien followed with a roar, forcing you to face it once again.

Your much smaller form shook at the sight of it, clearly now its center of attention while you cautiously attempted to step away from the alien. However, you soon enough found it making its way towards you, every step it took having a detectable stomp come with it. Every step it took sounded with obvious suspicion as it titled its head to the side, never ceasing its scanning of your shape.

You continued your backing up, your hands eventually finding their palms against the mucky surface of the hive’s walls. Ignoring the slimy sensation, you soon pressed your back against the wall before your head followed suit. But you then turned your head to the right, eyeing the Xenomorph with a side eye. A slight whimper tried escaping your lips, managing to cause a rumble in your throat as your eye found the alien muh closer than before.

The Praetorian’s mouth released a breathy growl as you immediately looked away from it, shutting your eyes the moment you felt the cold from its body practically radiate on your skin. At this point you learned the bigger a Xeno was, the colder their clammy body would be.

Tightly shutting your lips prompted your nose to breathe intensely, this almost alluring the alien further as it brought its face close to your cheek.

Its breaths were felt against your skin, these somehow warmer than the rest of the creature who took notice of your own heat. Its maw finally pressed against your skin, olfactory senses sniffing you out before you felt a thick substance fall on your head until it slid down to your face.

Finally you opened your eyes, watching the Xenomorph continue to examine your face. While you realized what was on you was the jelly from before. The alien’s jaw smeared it all over your cheek with every sniff it gave you, more of the jelly dripping from its head every now and then.

Praetorians like any other Xenomorph possessed inner jaws, but this one…it was even cleared that it was not a naturally born specimen based on what came from inside its mouth. From in between its teeth slithered out a tongue, warm and slick as it licked the juices off of your cheek ever so delicately. It took a moment as it retrieved its tongue, tasting the jelly on its organ before its throat rumbled with some kind of snarl.

You took the chance to turn your head towards the Praetorian, surveying the alien’s features before it also stared down at you head on. You caught sight of a drooling that fell from its teeth, pooling beside your boots as you found a way to press yourself further into the wall behind you while the Xenomorph pressed its mouth against your face once again. Its minacious claws were brought up to your sides, and you winced at the touch before the alien snapped its teeth at you. Yet again you stood still while the creature appeared to have relaxed, resuming its actions as it snaked its enormous claws behind your body. You felt yourself being pulled away from the wall in an almost tender way, your body nearly pressed against the Xenomorph’s hunched one as your arms disconnected from the wall as well.

It craned its head at you once again, giving a coo-like trill while you held your arms close to your chest so as to not touch the alien in any way. However, this prompted the Xeno to finally hold you close against it, almost as if it wanted to feel the rapid beating of your poor heart against its mesoskeleton. Once again it let its tongue slither out, licking the features of your skin as you gave a wince and shut your eyes for just a moment.

The moment it stopped with its actions, you gave it one more look. It gave you another trill, awaiting any kind of reaction from you with anticipation. For some strange, enticing reason…you felt compelled to bring one of your hands away from your body, hesitantly lifting it before deciding to cautiously place it on top of the Xeno’s head.

You ran your fingers over the smooth surface of the alien’s head before finally reaching the more ribbed parts of its crest, hearing a purr-like sound coming from its throat. And somehow, you felt a smile creep up onto your lips as you admired the Xenomorph’s newfound amiability while a euphoric sensation overcame you.

Your fingers found some of the jelly that still stained the alien’s head, and you retrieved your hand to properly study it as it coated most of your palm. Before you could look any further though, the Xenomorph’s tongue instantly licked it clean off of your hand. The second it finished doing that, you felt the alien begin to nuzzle against your face as more pleased trills escaped it.

Royal jelly was a crucial substance to Xenomorphs, but it made you wonder just what kind of effects it had on man-made ones who were also depicted with a more male design. The jelly was a substance used to make Praetorians from drones, and Queens from Praetorians, lest the Queen chose to simply strengthen her royal guards. From what you had heard, the Xenomorphs were usually affected in seconds, and this Praetorian did not seem to have changed in one bit. Perhaps that was because of its male sex.

Meanwhile, the effect it had on humans…

Whilst you were deep in thought, the Praetorian stood erect to its full height the second it detected some kind of sound outside of the chamber you were in. You snapped out of the wonder and daze you momentarily felt, remembering just how tall the alien was compared to you.

From outside the area your ears caught the sounds of gunshots, yells, and even a sudden explosion. It was so instant that it made you snap back to your senses, but not enough to have you back away from the Praetorian who actually released you that very moment.

The alien whipped around as fast it could while being careful to avoid you with its tail, instead bringing it to its front as it snarled at the locked door that concealed the both of you. It sensed intruders in the hive, able to tell that its drones and the cult members were no doubt under attack. But by what?

Almost as if on cue, that question was answered when a boom practically pounded on the door, shaking it enough for it to create a clear dent in the thick metal.

“Again!”

Another boom sounded before a large hole bursted through the door. This prompted the Praetorian to roar at the presence of the intruders who blasted at the door one last time, finally bringing it down before a group of men stepped in.

Marine corps! You honestly couldn’t believe it.

“Doctor! We’re here for you!” the leader of the group announced before a second man stepped in front of him. “Cover your ears!”

You immediately did as instructed, cowering down the instant you noticed the Praetorian rush at the marines. At that moment, a horrendously loud boom was heard in the chamber. However, considering the weapon’s design, the sound was specifically transmitted as a directional beam shot specifically at the Xenomorph who gave a shriek the second the sound hit it.

“Doctor, this way!” the first man motioned towards him, ignoring the completely disabled Xenomorph who seemed to writhe in pain. You couldn’t help but give it one last glance before the man called to your attention again. “Doctor!”

Turning away from the Praetorian, you hurried towards the man whose hand you accepted in that moment. However, you decided to spare the alien one last glance, watching as it slightly recovered enough to lock gaze with you. You paused, watching as the Xenomorph reached a claw out to you, right before it was hit with another ultrasound beam that prevented it from standing up.

“Doctor, let’s go!” the leader of the troop yelled before turning to his marines. “Make sure that thing stays down, don’t waste ammo on it! We’ll come back to kill it some other time!”

“Did my crew send for you!?”

“That they did! Sergeant Newton at your service doc.” the man spoke as he led you through the hive’s corridors you had found yourself in earlier. “We found you with that tracker of yours, made navigating this shithole easier.”

“I’m glad.” you responded as the man held you close when your running was momentarily stopped to avoid incoming drones. It was at this moment that you took notice of the new corpses that adorned the hive, corpses belonging to the cult members that had not appeared to you before. “You killed them!?”

“Unfortunately had to, they fired first and were commanding the Xenos to attack us. I don’t understand these crazy bastards.” Newton claimed before he resumed his running and gingerly pulled you along. “That seemed to confuse the Xenos for some moments, they can’t work without someone telling them what to do. Which brings me to ask, what was that Praetorian doing with you?”

“I-I don’t-” you began to stutter, but your words were interrupted by a sudden roar that was followed by shrieks that were clearly replies. “The Praetorian! It’s telling them what to do!”

The corridor you and the sergeant were in soon ended as the two of you found yourselves in the openness of the main hive room, the walls filled with crawling drones who had a sole purpose. Thankfully though, the sergeant’s troop soon accompanied him with the necessary weaponry that kept many of the aliens away.

“You won’t be able to take them all! We need to get out!”

“On it.” Newton replied before giving the order to the marines who began to let loose on the Xenomorphs, nobody exactly noticing that their sole purpose…involved you. Nobody except the sergeant who realized that the aliens only attacked those guarding you when they protectively surrounded you. “Keep them at bay, I’ll take the doctor to safety!”

You heard the man’s words in between the sounds of gunfire and turrets shooting continuous flames at the aliens, and you didn’t spare a moment in following Newton when he began to escort you to where he knew the exit was nearby.

“Doctor, go!” he shouted once the Xenomorphs turned their attention to your form, ignoring the troop who immediately grew confused. It was then that you realized why he directed you to leave without him: the Praetorian was already making its way through the hive’s remains, fully intending on getting you.

“Go, go, go!”

Without looking back, you ran through the wet floor of the hive as you felt Xenomorphs quickly approaching you. Praetorians never left the hive, they were the queen’s guards, so all you had to do was reach that damn exit. And that your eyes found soon enough, a light at the end of a tunnel where you heard voices shout at you.

The beating of your heart pounded against your chest and even rang in your ears as you felt yourself running out of breath, having to catch yourself from falling every now and then. At the same time, you could hear the trills and screeches and roars from the Xenomorphs not too far behind, the pounding of the Praetorian’s feet so close.

One last time did you look behind you, watching as the alien reached out to you before you felt yourself be tugged out of the cave. The screeching of aliens sounded right after flames shot out at the hive, forcing them all to retreat behind the Praetorian who you could tell was considering escaping running through the fire.

But the troops that now guarded you did not allow it, firing their weapons while one of the marines stole you away from the hive. You heard the alien screech at your absence while its drones returned to the hive, no doubt to rid of the troop still inside, and as you were taken away…the world suddenly grew quiet as you no longer paid any mind to the hive.

#xenomorph x reader #xenomorph #alien #aliens #alien vs predator #this xeno is specifically movie based but i'll still mark it as this for future stuff:#dbd xenomorph #specimen seven

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life-is-more-than-just-a-game · 4 months

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♠️ What a day off of games with the aib males can look like. ♠️

A/N: Sorry, I've been absent for two days now, but for good reason. I wasn't feeling too well mentally and needed some time to myself because something happened that put me in quite a hole ... 🥲

Still, I've been thinking about what I could post here next, so I've prepared a few headcanons that define what I think a day off of games with the male characters might look like. 🙈

I hope that some of you are still around and will read through it. Feel free to let me know what you think about it or if you think any of them might have other interests! ✨

Characters: Aguni, Arisu, Chishiya, Karube & Niragi.

POV: gn!reader

Warnings: Not given.

A g u n i

It depends on what time we are in.

If the beach still exists, Aguni is often prevented from doing anything with you outside if he already occupies the number one spot.

You would have to live with the fact that you would hardly have any time just for the two of you, because someone from his troupe would always want something from him.

If he realises that this is bothering you - or he is annoyed by it himself - he will turn his boys away and say that they should leave him alone for the next 2 hours as far as possible because he has better things to do.

In general, no matter what time loop we are in, I would say that Aguni would adjust to your needs.

I have the following typical scenario in mind:

Aguni: "So there are no games waiting for us today. Any ideas what you want to do in our day off?" Y/N: "Uhm ..." Aguni: "Come on, you must have been in the mood for something." Y/N: "Yeah, but I really don't know for what I am in the mood for ..."

Nobody said it would be easy with you, but let's be honest: it's the Borderland, what excited yet relaxing things could you do here so far?

If you really don't know what you want to do, he would give some suggestions.

Aguni: "We could go to the pool." Y/N: "Too cloudy for my taste ..." Aguni: "We can do some sports together." Y/N: "Now your expectations are set far too high!" Aguni: "What about fishing?" Y/N: "Can't we just get some fresh air and go for a walk together?" Aguni: "..." Y/N: "..." Aguni: "You knew very well what you wanted to do, didn't you?" Y/N: "Without my lawyer, I won't say anything."

A r i s u

If you want to do something, then Arisu is definitely the right person.

The boy is always up for a lot of nonsense and fun activities.

This is probably also because he doesn't want to constantly think about the terrible circumstances that are happening here.

He has got used to life here, but living in constant fear doesn't get someone anywhere and only has a negative effect on oneself.

So, if he is being trapped in a world that could take his life sooner or later, he at least wants to live every day as if it were his last.

You will not regret spending time with him.

He comes up with the wildest ideas, starting with taking a closer look into the various broken buildings.

Of course, he would still be cautious of entering any places just like that- not that both of you suddenly find yourself in a game, because that's what you're trying to avoid today.

Y/N: "A-Are you sure we should do this, Arisu?" Arisu: "Nope, but you only live once, so let's check this building out- maybe we'll find some interesting things in here." Y/N: "Would you define 'corpses' as interesting ...?" Arisu: "Wow, you really managed to ruin my fun."

You still wouldn't be able to stop him.

Investigating the building would include lots of laughter and piggybacks when your feet get tired from all the walking over ruins and debris.

Eventually you find out that this building was a former arcade.

You can definitely pass the time well there.

Arisu: "Would you like a game of billiards?" Y/N: "I'm going to rip you off so bad, love."

C h i s h i y a

Listen, this boy is a damn lazy piece of shit.

When there aren't any duties don't expect him to do something special.

He has no problem putting his feet up for a day and literally doing nothing.

Feel honored if he spends his time with you at all.

No matter where you both would be, he would find ways to just doze off and relax while you - after all - lie in his arms and enjoy his closeness.

It's nice that he can do that, but you can't.

Y/N: "We've been lying around here all day." Chishiya: "Well realised." Y/N: "I'm bored." Chishiya: "Then do something."

He would definitely be a great help to you.

Jokes on you, no, he wouldn't.

Y/N: "But I wanna do something with you today since we have enough time finally." Chishiya: "We do something, darling." Y/N: "Idiot, that's not what I meant!"

Making you pout is one of his favorite things to do.

How could he be bored if you let him get on your nerves so easily?

In contrast to you, he has something to laugh about and something to amuse himself with.

Nevertheless, he would at least agree to a compromise:

Chishiya: "How about this? We'll use the time now to laze around and in the evening we'll take a look at the neighbourhood together and see which places are damned by games this time." Y/N: "We don't take part in any games, our visas count enough days for us." Chishiya: "Who said anything about taking part in a game?" Y/N: "So, if I let you lounge around now, you will promise me to stay up late with me?"

Damn, you love the nightlife.

Chishiya: "That's a deal."

K a r u b e

To me the funniest but most chaotic one.

During the day, at least.

I can well imagine that Karube and you had already planned the day ahead the evening before.

But what would life be like if everything went as planned?

The morning is pleasant. You wake up together and after a intense cuddle-round, you start your routine as usual.

Unfortunately, Karube realizes that he can't find something.

Something very important when it comes to following his routine.

Karube: "Honey, d'you know where my cigarettes are?" Y/N: "I don't know where you put them yesterday after you got ready for bed."

In the end, it all comes down to searching your whole accommodation for his cigarettes.

I mean, when you do smoke yourself, they can be important for you too ...

If not, well, then you are a very nice and good person!

Y/N: "Did you found them?" Karube: "I would have told you when that would be the case." Y/N: "Sure you didn't throw the box away because you smoked you last one yesterday evening?" Karube: "I know my pack of cigarettes inside out, there were at least three more in there."

You can guess where this is going.

You spend the whole forenoon looking for his damn cigarettes.

You turn the whole accommodation upside down.

Both of you look under every stone.

In every room.

Two times- minimum.

Y/N: "Karube, fave it, you don't have any- ... Darling ...? Karube: "What is it?" Y/N: "What's that in your pants pocket ... at the back of your butt?" Karube: "Uh-... Oh!"

Now he remebers ...

Karube: "You found them! That's right, I put them straight in my jeans yesterday so I couldn't forge- hey!" Y/N: "Yeah, I threw your boxer shorts at you!"

N i r a g i

Oh, my dearest reader-chan, please stay close to him no matter where he goes.

When he has nothing to do, he will go through the city streets looking for people to annoy.

He would look for trouble and find it- even if there's no reason for trouble, he'll just make it happen himself and find his reasons.

I don't know how, but at least you managed to stop him from taking his gun.

That's something you should be very proud of.

However, that doesn't stop him from doing anything and we know that.

So please. Stay. With. Him. Thank you!

In any case, you walk around the area together and check it out a little.

You'll talk about pretty trivial things every now and then, but that's still more pleasant than just talking to each other all the time.

When you meet someone, Niragi is ready to provoke them directly for no reason.

Thank god you had a firm hold on his hand or his arm so you could quickly drag him in another direction to avoid the innocent people.

Y/N: "Oh, look!"

Yes, you also like to pretend to see something that you would find interesting.

… In partially empty shop windows.

Niragi: "What the fuck should I look for?" Y/N: "See the rocks there?" Niragi: "You kidding me, right?"

The nice thing is that he would still look to something you tell him to look at.

There could actually be something interesting there.

Well, most of the times at least.

It's nearly impossible but who know?

Y/N: "OH, SEE WHAT I HAVE FOUND TH-" Niragi: "What is it this time? Another boring and ugly stone you think it's fascinating?" Y/N: "No ..." Niragi: "Oh, what is it this time then?" Y/N: "The tree there."

He will touch his nose and look at you angrily- but not without laughing afterwards at your amiable stupidity.

Damn, he loves you so much for what you are, he can't even be bothered.

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thisisawonderfulusername · 1 year

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only you

cavill!sherlock holmes x pregnant!reader

requested by: anon

summary: after becoming pregnant, you notice that sherlock has been distancing himself. he finally returns home after at least a month of being gone.

warnings: pregnancy, mention of a dead body but nothing graphic, if there's anything you see let me know

word count: 2k

a/n: thank you so much for this request! i apologize for how long it took to write, but i enjoyed it! i don't think i was able to fit absolutely everything but i hope you like it either way.

everything was perfect in the beginning. at least, that's how it felt.

when you first met sherlock, it was at the scene of a case you were working on. you admit, it was a bit suspicious of you to be digging around in a dead man's pockets, but you were there for the same business as him. or at least similar.

"who are you?" you jump at the new voice in the room, obviously not expecting anyone else to waltz in while you were doing your investigation.

you rise from your crouched position as you pull a note from the dead man's pocket, turning to see the intruder.

my, was he handsome.

clearing your throat, you fold your hands together, encasing the paper. "i could ask you the same."

he sighs, "sherlock holmes."

a soft gasp passes your lips. sherlock holmes, the well renowned detective.

"i ask again, who are you?" he questions.

"y/n l/n." you inform him, "it's a pleasure to meet you, mr holmes."

his eyebrows raises as he looks to the corpse on the floor. "may i ask why you were searching a dead man's body?"

"oh," you had almost forgotten your business here, being in his presence. you glance down at the body, "i'm investigating a case. my search has led me here."

he seemed intrigued by the new information, nodding his head. "the case of his murder?"

"well, a missing person's case. but it seems it has become more than that." you motion towards the floor.

"i happen to be investigating his murder." he tells you, "i believe our cases may have crossed."

"so it seems." you hum.

he glances around the room for a second, clearly thinking. "perhaps we can share our information."

you never would've expected that case to lead to a long partnership, bringing your minds together to solve even the toughest of cases.

"another case solved, mr holmes." you smile at the man beside you.

"couldn't have done it without you, miss l/n," he responds, causing you to chuckle.

and perhaps a blooming romance.

yes, throughout the months of running around with him, you may have grown to have some feelings.

it was something different. you had met plenty of men. your parents had introduced you to some, telling you how wonderful they were and how you should settle down soon before nobody would want you. of course, nobody would want a woman too old to have a child.

but with each man who courted you, you realized that in your mind, you were comparing them all to sherlock.

sherlock, who was the kindest gentleman you'd ever met. the person you felt most comfortable with on any day. the man who had moved in with you after a mere three cases, leaving two-twenty-one b baker street as a place for bringing evidence together to create conclusions.

in your mind, he was perfect. but out of reach.

little did you know, it wasn't quite as far away as you suspected.

"ha!" you step back as you look at the strings that connected on the wall in front of you. "oh my- sherlock!" you call for him.

he rushes in from the other room, eyes wide. "what? did something happen?"

"i figured it out!" you squeal, clapping your hands together, "i solved it!"

"you-" he quickly moves forward to look at all the connections, eyes darting all around. a moment later, he looks back to you, "you did!"

it's almost natural how you gravitate towards each other, "my word, you are just-" he can barely form words, and without thinking…

he kisses you. it seems as if it's something that happens everyday, with the way your hand moves to rest on his shoulder without any thought.

when he pulls away, you're staring into each other's eyes, amazed by what just happened.

"well, that could've happened much sooner," you breathe out, sharing a smile with him.

after your relationship blossomed, it was approximately a year before he proposed.

and not too long after, you found yourself to be pregnant. when you told sherlock, he was elated at first.

the two of you were turning a new page in your story, beginning a new chapter.

but after a month or so, the excitement from him began to dwindle. he grew distant, and it seemed to you like he was hesitant to even look in your direction.

with time, he was rarely coming home, staying in the flat that he used to call home- to you, it seemed like that was slowly a returning case.

one day, as you were heading towards town to run some errands, you heard a strange whining sound near the bushes along the sidewalk.

when you went to investigate, pushing the leaves to the side, you saw a puppy. a bundle of shaggy, light brown fur.

"oh, sweety." you frown, hesitantly reaching out for it. once it allows you to get closer, you manage to pick it up out of the bushes. it was much heavier than you expected, but you managed to hold him. "why are you out here all alone? have you got any owners?"

you searched for a tag but to no avail. "it seems not. i suppose i'll take you home with me then, how does that sound? we can keep each other company."

you smile. no part of you ever expected having a dog, but here you are, carrying one back up the stairs to your home.

"i think a bath will do you good," your nose scrunches as you open the door, having to hold the dog close to yourself and smelling the odor that came from him.

thus began a friendship filled with love and loyalty.

part of you wondered what sherlock would think, but he hadn't been home in at least a month, only dropping in to grab a new round of clothes every once in a while.

your hand runs across cato's back while his head rests in your lap. every few minutes, you'll lift your hand to turn the page of the book you've been reading, but only seconds later it's back on his fur.

it's been a relaxing evening, as you've had no errands to run for the day, and until dinner you haven't got anything to do.

usually, this time would be spent by sherlock's side. whether it be having a cup of tea or going out to solve a crime, it would be with him.

it seems you haven't had that since you found that you were pregnant. since your belly grew bigger, since he stopped lingering in your presence.

a knock at the door has the dog's head raising, and you look towards the door. as he jumps off the couch, you place a bookmark on your page and push up from your cushioned seat.

when you open the door, you're greeted with the sight of the young sister of sherlock's and her new beau.

"enola!" you smile, opening the door further, "it's wonderful to see you again. and tewkesbury, a pleasure as always."

"it's wonderful to see you again, you look wonderful," enola says as they enter your home, noticing the dog a few moments later, "and who's this?"

you look down to him, his tail beginning to wag as tewkesbury reaches a hand out for him to sniff. "this is cato." you inform, "i found him on the street about a month ago. i didn't expect for him to get so big in such little time."

they both smile and enola watches as tewkesbury scratches the dog's ear. "how does sherlock feel about him?" she asks.

a small frown tries to tug your lips down but you quickly disguise it. "i'm not sure," you sigh, "he hasn't been home to meet him."

tewkesbury looks away from the dog when you say that, eyebrows furrowing together. "he hasn't? why not?"

all words are lost as you shrug, not knowing yourself why he hasn't been around.

"i'll go speak with him," she states, beginning to move back to the door.

"no, enola," you grab her hand and she stares at you in utter confusion. "there's no need. i'm sure he'll be back soon."

her hand drops from yours as she sighs. "if he fails to return, i will get him myself." you promise.

she nods, "just- tell me when he does."

you muster up a smile, "of course. would you like any tea?" you change the topic.

"we were actually on our way to the market," tewkesbury informs you, "we were just passing by to say hello."

you nod, "well, don't let me hold you up. enjoy your day."

enola's arm loops through his and you feel a tug at your heart as you open the door for them, "remember, tell me when sherlock comes to his senses." she points a finger at you before they leave.

you sigh when you close the door, thinking of the times you and sherlock had their kind of relationship. young and naive.

you look down at cato, who was unaware of your feelings, his tail wagging happily.

"oh, darling." you sigh, patting his head, "what will i do?"

you hum softly, moving throughout the kitchen to grab various ingredients for dinner.

it was a peaceful moment until you heard the door open, followed by a growl in the living room.

you froze, carefully placing what you held on the counter and grabbing for a knife. had you forgotten to lock the door?

when you peak around the corner of the entryway that leads out of the kitchen, you see what caused the distress of your dog- your husband, home for the first time in who knows how long. it upset you that the thought of him being home didn't cross your mind before someone breaking in.

the confusion on his face is evident when he turns his head and sees you. "what is a dog doing in our home?"

"i took him in." you state matter of fact as the dog trots over to you, sitting at your feet while keeping his gaze on the man unknown to him.

sherlock's eyebrows furrow, "and why was i not informed of this?"

"i'm surprised you even care," you laugh bitterly, "he's been here for a while now, and it says a lot that you're only learning of it now."

it takes sherlock a moment to answer, glancing around the room before looking back to you. "you're mad at me."

your lips purse. "what a brilliant deduction, sherlock."

he purses his lips, "i know i've been busy-"

"no, sherlock!" your voice suddenly raises and cato stands, "you haven't been home in forever. you've left me!"

when he looks down at the floor, you can feel the tears beginning to form in your eyes. "that wasn't my intention, darling." he mutters softly, taking a step towards you.

a soft growl comes from cato as he stares your husband down. "don't call me darling." you speak lowly, "you've lost that privilege."

you can see the hurt in his eyes, but you couldn't seem to care. when he shows no sign of reply, you cross your arms. "please, sherlock." you whisper, "what did i do? you've never been this distant."

"i didn't mean-"

"then why-"

"i'm scared, alright?" his voice raises, causing you to flinch. he frowns at the sight, shaking his head. "i worry i won't be a good father."

you feel a pang in your heart at his confession. out of all the reasons in the world, you never would've expected him to be scared.

"sherlock," you step toward him, "my love, you will be a wonderful father." after you drop the knife on the dining table, your hand raises to rest on his cheek and he leans into your touch. "i wouldn't want anyone else for this baby. only you."

his striking blue eyes stare into yours and you can see the guilt within them. "i'm sorry for leaving," he whispers softly.

"you better be." your volume matches his as you press a kiss to his cheek, "and if you do it again, i'll let cato maul you."

a laugh is pulled from him and you smile at the sound that you missed so much. "i promise, darling." he glances to the dog, "he's pretty cute."

"i know, right?" you look down at him, "i found him in a bush." you chuckle.

taglists

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

sherlock holmes: none yet

#sherlock x reader #henry cavill sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #holmes x reader #cavill sherlock x reader #cavill sherlock holmes x reader #henry sherlock holmes x reader #henry sherlock x reader

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rachetmath · 7 months

Text

Jaune the Strategist

Jaune: Um… General Ironwood? I have a question.

Ironwood: What is it Mr. Arc?

Jaune: Why not release the video footage of Tyrian killing a bunch of people?

Clover: Are you crazy? If we release such a video it cause panic in Mantle.

Jaune: I hear you. But... isn’t the Atlas military already being framed for countless murders?

Ironwood: Yes.

Jaune: And no one in Mantle is willing to follow protocol because they don’t trust us right?

Ironwood: Well... yes.

Jaune: Okay. So why not use this to our advantage?

Ruby: Explain.

Jaune: I mean come on. Seriously? We have proof. We have video display. And if this has been happening for a while then we have dead bodies that can hold our case.

Ironwood: Mr. Arc, I’m going to need you to further elaboration.

Jaune: What’s there to- Look, Tyrian has been killing people for a while, right?

Qrow: Yeah.

Jaune: We have video proof that he committed the massacre at Robin’s party. We could just report this and clear Penny’s name.

Ironwood: That is true.

Jaune: Plus with the few bodies Tyrian left behind, which I’m hoping your Atlas soldiers investigated completely. Like the time and location of death. As well as how they died. Basically if Tyrian left multiple victims, can’t we compare them to the other corpses from the party.

Ironwood: Huh.

Jaune: Not only that but Tyrian has a poisonous tail. Didn’t some of them have a hint poison consumed or at least small pick to their bodies.

Ironwood: Oh. That is something to consider.

Clover: Okay, but still doesn’t change the fact if we tell the people a killer is on the loose it will cause panic.

Jaune: True. But it could also make people listen. Think about it, they’re already being invaded by grimm everyday. And now they have killer amongest them. Wouldn’t that force them to reconsider they’re options?

Clover: … My… My Oum he could right.

Marrow: Okay but what about Robyn?

Jaune: Mantle’s Champion? Happy Huntresses? Are you serious? Do you honestly think she would not make a killer her top priority?

Marrow: Huh.

Jaune: I’m just saying, why are we keeping this under raps and quickly turning to Martial law?

Ironwood: Wow… anything else Mr.Arc

Jaune: Why frame Penny?

Ruby: She’s the Protector of Mantle.

Jaune: She also a robot. With a human soul. Who recorded everything! Who so far never got hacked? So why her specifically? If anything I would have got Penny out the way and framed one of the Ace-ops. Specifically Marrow. Hell why not frame Robyn herself?

Marrow: Whoa why me?

Jaune: You know why.

Blake: But tell us why.

Ironwood: Damn he’s right. That absolutely makes sense considering he’s a Faunus and recent member of the Ace ops.

Jaune: Exactly.

Blake: Are you two serious?!

Jaune: Blake think about how much conflict that would cause. A faunus in the Atlas military. An Ace operative killed and injured a bunch of innocent people. Humans and faunuses mind you. Not only would that cause division amongest the people of Mantle but the school and the soldiers.

Ironwood: He’s right. We have faunases who attend this school and are apart our units.

Jaune: It’ll be chaos. Racism and Hatred in the air. And with that much negativity the grimm attacks would be sky rocketing to the masses. Screw trying to get Amity Arena up we might as well have focused our time on containment. Hell that would been a better reason to initiate Martial law. Something I think Robyn would agree to. Considering Fiona is a faunus and her teammate.

Ironwood: So basically framing Penny was-

Jaune: A stupid idea? ABSO-FREAKEN-LUTLY!! Who ever made this plan had to be dumb as bricks.

Watts: *sneezes*

Jaune: I’m mean now I might as well ask this question. Has anyone ever disagreed with Penny’s creation?

Ironwood: I mean-… ... actually... yes we had a few people who disagreed.

Jaune: Also if you have a file for Tyrian, then what about Cinder, Emerald, Mercury or Hazel?

Ironwood: Why yes we---- Hold up. You all saw Hazel?

Jaune: Yeah.

Ironwood: And you survived?

Nora: Yes. Though with our tails between our legs. How do you know him?

Ironwood: How do you think I lost half of my body?

Jaune: Damn. And I thought Ren and Qrow had it worse. How powerful is he?

Ironwood: He crippled Ozpin.

Oscar: (And he said he stood a chance. He could’ve killed us both.)

Jaune: (We’ll most definitely need to jump him.) An-anyways, back on topic. So, who out all the other people were against the Penny project? Simply put who hates Pietro the most?

Ironwood: Well… there was Professor Watts.

Jaune: Professor Watts?

Ironwood: He was an inventor as well. He was even to soul creator of the Atlas robots you’re associated with. However he died in accident.

Jaune: How long ago?

Ironwood: Months ago?

Jaune: Okay now that’s weird.

Weiss: So what Jaune? He died.

Winter: Yes but I understand why Mr.Arc is suspicious. In Cinder’s file, after committing four first degree murders she disappeared.

Jaune: Then she suddenly appears back at Beacon with a way to hack the military.

Clover: Tyrian was captured but then escaped and he disappeared as well.

Qrow: Then he came out nowhere and tried to capture Ruby.

Ironwood: Hazel disappeared once too.

Oscar: And then I saw him on my way to Mistral.

Jaune: Is any of this making sense?

Ironwood: Yes. Clover I need you to follow up on some the victims of the previous crimes. And Winter I need you look into Watt’s case. Lets make sure he’s dead. If not we need evidence.

Winter: Yes sir.

Ironwood: Well, Mr. Arc it seem I underestimated your intelligence. I will not call in Martial law.

Jaune: No-no. Keep it in mind.

Nora: SAY WHAT?! I THOUGHT YOU WERE TRYING TO AVOID IT!!

Jaune: I am. But Robyn could still cause trouble for us down the road. We need to be ready when she could take things too far.

Nora: But-

Ironwood: It’s only if she continues to be an obstacle.

Nora: *silent*

Ironwood: Alright. Everyone back to work. Keep an eye out for Tyrian. And if you learn anything you report to me immediately.

Ace-ops: Yes sir.

Ren: Yes sir.

*JNPR Dorm Room*

Nora: Jaune, I can’t believe you sided with Ironwood.

Ren: Nora, it is a constitutions plan. It’s not going to happen.

Nora: I’m just saying the people of Mantle are already having a hard time.

Ren: I understand but-

Nora: But what? That getting Amity Arena up is more important than helping the people.

Ren: What about the world? What about all of Remnant?

Nora: How can help the world if we can’t help a country?!

Ren: We can’t always focus on the small things Nora. We need to consider the bigger picture.

Nora: So after all we’ve been through before you want to throw that away?

Ren That not what I’m saying. I-

Jaune: ENOUGH!!

Jaune: Please. Stop arguing.

Ren: Jaune, look I want to say-

Jaune: Stop. Sit. Both of you.

Nara and Ren: *sit separately from each other*

Jaune: Look, Nora, I understand. I know Mantle going through hard times. Due to the trading routes and transportation being limited, people are starting to struggle to get in and out of city. Stores and companies are closed so people are having trouble finding work. And without work, they can’t make money. And without money they can’t pay rent nor provide for their families. Basically majority of those people might as well not have homes soon.

Nora: Then you know why Martial law can’t happen. It will make things worse.

Jaune: Yes. That is why I would rather keep it as a last resort. However, with Mantle’s lack of funding and resources, I almost can’t blame Robyn for what’s she’s doing. However, two wrongs don’t make a right.

Nora: Hmm.

Ren: Well said Jaune.

Jaune: And you. Don’t think I’m openly siding with Ironwood. I only did that because I need everyone on the same page.

Ren: Jaune.

Jaune: At Beacon, Amber, Ozpin and Pyrrha died. Then the world got divide. Mistral, we almost died.

Nora: We survived.

Jaune: Through the skin of our teeth Nora! We got lucky! And Hazel, Emerald and Mercury stilled escaped!

Nora: *hates when he’s right*

Jaune: Now Tyrian is here. And even if my theory on Watts is correct, we still don’t know what they’re up to. Not to mention, we’re keeping secrets too. Especially, about Salem., who may have sent them here to retrieve the lamp. And worse, kill Oscar.

Nora and Ren: … … …

Jaune: Look… … Basically what I’m saying we need to be careful. We are no longer students. We are hunters. Every move we make could jeopardize what we are trying to accomplish. Even the people we trust could be a problem if we’re not careful.

Nora: So you don’t trust Ruby?

Jaune: Yeah. But keeping these secrets could get us in trouble, or most likely, have a gun to our heads. And Ironwood has plenty of them compared to us.

Ren: So what should we do?

Jaune: We do what we started this journey for. We search for answers.

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #weiss schnee #lie ren #nora valkyrie #penny polendina #tyrian callows #james ironwood #winter schnee #clover ebi #rwby marrow #jnpr #hazel rainart #rwby watts #oscar pines #qrow branwen #blake belladonna #robyn hill

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omni-present-god-send · 7 months

Text

A short crack-fic

A short crack-fic I made based on @lets-try-some-writing

and their Unicron is a Dad AU. Enjoy. Or don't. I don't give a shit.

Basically: Unicron learns about that one time Megatron almost killed Raf with a blast of Dark Energon. Let's just say, don't try and kill a favorite child of a God of Chaos.

Unicron has been watching over the children for some time now. Always as Chitters. A small squirrel that Raf has brought on. He loaths to admit it, but the three children have very much become his favorites. Esspessially Miko. A child of his own spark.

Unfortunitly, this is not about Miko. It's about the youngest of his favorites. Rafael.

Of course the day started as normal. Chitters would chew some wires, Ratchet would try and cut him down; Chitters would remain victorious. 27:0 to be precise. But who's counting? Certanly not Unicron, definatly.

Then something...odd happened. Bulkhead shot at something on the wall. Whatever it was, Unicron couldn't give two shits, as Raf immediately hit the deck. Raf covered his head with his hands and started shaking. Violently.

"Raf! Are you ok? Hey hey hey. Breath." Jack soothed. Miko rubbed Raf's back as Chitters slowly crawled his way to Raf's face. Rubbing his head against Raf's tear-stained cheek.

It took every ounce of self-restraint for Unicron to not smite Bulkhead right then and there. It was only what Jack said next that stopped Unicron in his, metaphorical, tracks. "It's alright Raf. Megatron can't hurt you here." He said it so quietly that Unicron almost couldn't hear it. He decided to wait on any smiting until after he got more information.

That turned out to be a very wise decision. As, that night, Unicron paid Raf a special visit. It was not uncommon for Unicron to visit his little ones. Especially his Special Three. NEver telling them who he actually was, out of respect for their fears. What? He may care for them but he is a God of Chaos and they know it. He doesn't exactly have a reputation for being super caring. This visit was different form his previous ones. He was not just here to comfort Raf after his day. He needed to know what happened.

As Unicron sang an ancient song to bring comfort and safety. He did a bit of exploring in Raf’s memory. Nothing invasive mind you. Just enough to get the information he needed. What he found sent fire through his very spark.

Megatron had nearly killed Raf. Deliberately. Firing a blast of Dark Energon at Bumblebee with Raf inside. A little more investigation was required. The next night he went to Jack. Then the next, Miko. He found memories of Raf’s near corpse. The felt the panic. The fear. The pain. The anger.

In his search, Unicron gained something other then just a new-found anger at Megatron. His opinion of the Special Three have changed as well. Not in a negative way. Each night just further proved why they were each the favorite.

Raf stayed alive for over an hour out of sheer force of will after the blast. Jack tried to be level headed and came up with practical solutions to help Raf survive. Miko, once again showing their similarities, made so many detailed plans to make Megatron suffer it was almost concerning. Each one got a special song those nights. Unicron had almost forgotten how much he enjoyed singing.

Unicron was furious. His once chosen champion, had tried to kill one of his favorite Children. This would not stand. The good thing about his brothers children is that they didn’t sleep, not like his superior children at least. So it was incredibly easy to torment Megatron.

For days Unicron tormented Megatron. Visions of Optimus ripping his face off. Of dying in the endless vacuum of space. Of rusting at the bottom of the ocean. Of getting his still beating spark ripped out. That last one was straight from Miko.

Unicron watched in amusement as Megatron became more and more paranoid. Praying to him, asking what all the visions mean.

While this was happening, Things were slow back at base. Chitters was still winning. 30:0. Things had quieted down. As since Megatron was being plagued by visions of his demise, the Decepticons have had little activity.

As much as Unicron loved tormenting Megatron. His focus would always be his children. His Special Three.

I wrote this instead of doing my math homework lmao.

#transformers #my fic #fanfiction #unicron #dad au #don’t fuck with my kids #dark energon #megatron #optimus prime #transformers prime #rafael esquivel #jack darby #miko nakadai

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cypherthesuccubus · 2 months

Text

Rekindle Our Spark~

Alastor x reader -Part 3- (NSFW) (MDNI)!!!!!

Warnings: smut, 18+, predator/prey, murder, S&M, bondage, knife play, blood kink, marking, cock worship, pussy worship, body worship, dom/sub, breath play, she/her pronouns, vaginal sex, breeding, creampie, rutting

Other tags: Fluff and Angst

Aftercare always!!!~✨

Part three is here, my darlings!!~ sorry for the wait, but good things always come to those who do, don’t they~ Please do enjoy yourselves~ 😈💕✨

(The song that plays during the dance)

(Y/N’s P.O.V)

I flip through the pages of my book I’m currently invested in. Nothing beats a good mystery novel every now and again. I recline back against the arm rest of the couch when I’m disturbed by a feminine voice “Hey (Y/N)! Vaggie and me are calling it a night, but I wanted to see how you were doing before I did.” I look to Miss Charlie; giving her a genuine smile “Oh I’m doing quite well! About to head to bed myself after I finish this chapter.” She smiles; just very happy to hear that I’m adjusting so well “Well if you need anything, just ask, ok?” I nod as she takes her leave upstairs; joining her girlfriend as they make their way down the hall. Ever since I’ve decided to become part of the Hazbin Hotel; thanks to a certain Radio demon; I’ve been feeling a lot more at ease then I was living in cannibal town. Yes the town is civilized of course, but still they ate human flesh like you would regular food. Which would put me on edge if one day I ended up on someone’s platter on account I made someone mad, or looked at them the wrong way. Could be my paranoia talking, but I honestly still would choose to move anyways; even if Alastor didn’t invite me to be a resident in the hotel. I still laugh about what transpired before he invited me here. He decides to give me a fright in the supply closet; thus jogging my memory of that night. I was thankful he let me go, but unfortunately I was still caught and brought back to meet my fate. I yelled out for him when I did get caught by one of the men, but it was too late. His corpse laid on the ground; soaking in his own blood from the shot wound.

I did manage to escape once they brought me back to their hideout. One of the men didn’t register that I was unbound and left me unsupervised in the lobby. I’d say luck was on my side after all. I had to go into witness protection after that and move to a different city under a new name. It worked for a while, until they found me. Unfortunately they weren’t interested in me anymore; they wanted me dead more than anything after escaping them. I went the same way he did; very petty if you ask me. So I’ve been down here for like what? 70 years now? Yeah, it’s been a shit show to say the least, but things got better since becoming Rosie’s assistants. She was very nice to me; quickly giving me a job that I didn’t think I would get, since every other place wasn’t hiring or didn’t accept me. Now I had a new place to live at along with possible redemption; things were finally looking up. I close my book; putting it back on the shelf as I make my way up the stairs. Slowly walking down the hall, I hear faint music coming from the door near the end of the hall way. I think it was coming from Alastor’s room. I only seen it once from the tour Charlie gave me a month prior to moving into the hotel. Most of Alastor’s stuff was off limits to everyone, but I was finding very difficult to not investigate the music coming from his room. The music would play more clearly the closer I got to the door. It sounded so familiar like a blast from the past; drawing me in by nostalgia.

Before I could knock on the door, it opened on its own as if it knew I would be here. I slowly poke my head in; looking around to see if Alastor was in here. I catch a glance over to a large red velvet chair; sitting in front of the fireplace where I see a pair of familiar black and red shoes. His legs crossed over as he hums along to the tune, whilst reading a book of his own. Before I could make my presence known, he turns his head towards the door; giving me a welcoming smile. “Ahh (Y/N)! What a pleasant surprise! Do what do I owe this lovely visit from you so late at night?” I chuckled nervously; trying to find my words. “Oh it’s just….I overheard some music and wanted to hear it better.” He closes his book as he gets up from the chair; making his way towards me. “Is that all you came here for, my dear? I was hoping we could catch up! Have a little chat and reminisce on the past.” He stops right in front of me; eyes glowing in the dim light while his smile never faltered. “Well…that does sound nice. Why not!” He offers his hand out; taking it hesitantly as he guides me to the part of his room where there was a literal forest like atmosphere there. The grass and trees look and felt so real. It was almost like being back on earth again. He leads me to a cute cafe like table with elegant chairs to match. Pulling out one, he gestured me to sit; gently pushing me in as he goes to sit across from me.

(Alastor’s P.O.V)

“I have so many questions, my dear! For instance, what happened after that night? Did you manage to escape thanks to my help, darling?” I snap my fingers; making a tea set appear on the table as I go to pour myself and her a cup. “Well I did eventually. They caught me a little bit after you let me go, and I saw what happened to you.” I felt my eye twitch; remembering how annoying it was to be taken out by a petty excuse of a criminal no less. “Luckily they weren’t too smart to realize you cut the ropes off when I escaped the second time.” I chuckle as I take a sip of the tea. “Lucky indeed! How did you manage to stay alive this long before now?” She takes a sip of her tea; placing back down as she lets out a heavy sigh. “I didn’t live that long. Witness protection did keep me alive for 20 years, until they found me…..they killed me the same way you died, which was really petty if you ask me.” I nod; taking another sip “They never really did have class, did they? How long have you been down here since then, my dear?” She pauses, placing her fist under her chin as she thinks “I’d say about rather…..70 years now?….yeah that sounds right.” 70 years? And I haven’t ran into her until now? Ironic how things work like this. We continue to reminisce about fond memories we’ve had. Even the moments we’ve had before that night.

My ears perk up during our charming conversation; hearing a song that reminded me of another night we shared due to celebratory reasons. Her family had hit an important milestone that night and wanted to throw a last minute gathering. I think that night we had our first conversation with each other; along with a first dance. I place my tea cup down; getting up from the chair as I stand in front of (Y/N). “Remember that night, my dear? Shall we recreate it?” I offer my hand to her; my smile widens as she timidly takes it. I lead her to the middle of the forest clearing; placing my left hand on her waist as I held her hand with my right. The song was slow; leading us into a waltz as she smiles at me. “Looks like you still know how to dance after all this time.” I chuckle; leading her to twirl in place. “Of course, my dear! Wouldn’t be gentlemen like of me if I didn’t.” She chuckles as we continue to dance a little further into the clearing of the trees. The song was nearing its end; sliding my arm around her waist as I pull her in closer. “You know, my dear, all this reliving the past has got me thinking….this setting we’re in….reminds me of another memory that was never….completed.” She looks at me; arching her brow as she tilts her head “What do you mean by that, Alastor?”

I spin her once more; pulling her close to me as I slowly dip her with a wide smile “If memory serves me right, my dear…..the night before I died…we made a little deal, didn’t we?~” She blushes at the realization; eyes widening as I can feel her heartbeat quicken “Y-yes we did, huh?” I chuckle; running my hand up her thigh as I lift it to rest at my hip; holding it there. “There’s one thing to know about me, darling….when I make a deal….” I run my free hand up the back of her neck; lowering her to lay on the forest floor as I pin her body down. I gently grab her chin; having her look deep into my eyes as she blushes once more. “I always come to collect~.” I lower myself down; capturing her lips with my own. I pry her mouth open just enough to slide my tongue against hers; tasting every inch of her in a feverish vigor. I run my hands up the length of her arms; pinning them by the wrists as I summon my ethereal chains to bound them. She breaks the kiss; completely out of breath as she spoke “W-what are you doing?” She wiggles against the chains; pushing me to hold the restraints down; grinning wildly “I going to take what’s mine, my dear~…..now…let’s continue where we left off all those years ago~.”

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lemonwrap · 25 days

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Imagine: a Dishonored AU where Ghost is marked and gifted with the Outsider’s powers, and Soap is the royalty he protects.

As a young child, Simon grew up poor—so poor that his father couldn’t repay the debts he racked up. Not when he spent nearly every cent on booze.

When Simon is eight, the street gang his father had been avoiding for nearly a year finally catches up with him. Although Simon manages to escape, the gang kills his entire family as retribution—his father, mother, and older brother, Tommy. Ghost didn’t care for his father in the least, but it’s still a shock to see a corpse.

That night, as he sobs on his cracked front doorstep and mourns the loss of his mother and brother, he falls asleep. He awakens in a strange place, where chunks of buildings and land float throughout a vast abyss.

Simon wanders around for an unknown amount of time investigating—it could’ve been minutes, or it could’ve been years. A flurry of inky black particles form in the air and quickly arrange themselves into a…being.

There’s something distinctly godlike about the being. He isn’t human. His eyes are pitch black, an abyss with no bounds, and his skin is pale as snow. He holds himself with a rigid posture, arms crossed, and chin lifted as he looks down upon the young boy.

“Hello, Simon,” the being says.

“Who are you?” Simon whispers.

“I am the Outsider. Your life has taken a turn, has it not? I have chosen you and drawn you into the Void,” he says. “There are forces in the world and beyond the world, great forces that men call ‘magic’, and now these forces will serve your will.”

Simon doesn’t say anything else, mystified. What is he talking about? There’s always been stories of magic, of the Outsider, but magic doesn’t really exist, does it? But nothing else can explain how real this all feels, from the cold, empty air to the calls of the whales as they float throughout the chasm of this realm, to the Outsider himself.

“This is my mark,” the Outsider says, and he lifts his hand. Suddenly, Simon’s own left hand is burning, and he jumps at the pain, looking down at it in alarm. There’s an intricate design forming on the back of his hand, and when he tries to wipe it off, it’s smooth and stays firmly in place like a tattoo would.

“Use this newfound power, my gift to you, Simon. How you use what I have given you falls upon you, as it has to the others before you. And now, I return you to your world—but know that I will be watching with great interest.”

In the morning, Simon wakes up on his doorstep again. He immediately checks his hand and is startled to see that it’s still there, and it doesn’t come off. It wasn’t just a dream.

He lives on the streets after that.

Simon spends years honing his abilities, including his ability to Blink moderate distances, Wind Blast opponents or objects, and his sword fighting skills. He also maintains a strong, agile body ready for just about anything, and even adopts the name Ghost, coming from his ability to Blink and his stealth.

In his dreams, Ghost sometimes finds himself in the Void, but he never sees the Outsider. His mark is as visible and strong as ever, though, and so he keeps it covered constantly.

At sixteen, Ghost enters the Blade Verbana, an annual sword-fighting competition. The prize is a spot in the Serkonan Guard, something he would have almost zero chance of gaining otherwise.

Ghost wins, of course. Even without his powers, most of his opponents were no match for him. He didn’t use his powers in the competition because using his Wind Blast to throw one of his opponents into a wall or Blinking to dodge would give him away. Black magic is feared and looked down upon, and its discovery would subject him to arrest or death. Ghost knows that is what he possesses, so he keeps it a secret, only using it when alone or in an emergency.

After two years of service, the Duke of Serkonos sends Ghost to Dunwall to serve Empress Anne MacTavish. The Empress assigns him to be the Royal Protector, specifically for her son.

That’s when he meets John MacTavish.

He’s Ghost’s age, has a stupid haircut in the form of a mohawk, and likes to be called Soap. Ghost thinks he’s insolent and irritating, with the most redeeming thing about him is that he doesn’t talk down on Ghost and doesn’t purposely flaunt his wealth or status. It makes his attitude a little more bearable. However, Soap has a healthy disrespect for authority and, to Ghost’s annoyance, likes to flee the elegant balls his mother hosts and sneak out of his room in the tower at night. It’s Ghost’s job to protect and guard him, and Soap is making it a pain in the ass.

Ghost isn’t particularly attached to his fiery ward until one night, when Soap slips out of his room yet again. Ghost tracks him down and eventually finds Soap in the middle of a brawl with three men in an alleyway, losing badly. Ghost helps him. He and Soap fight side by side, though Soap is clearly lacking in any real technique, and Ghost chases the men away. He could’ve easily Wind Blasted them, but he doesn’t want to try and explain that to Soap.

He’s about to yell at Soap until he realizes there’s a girl there, too. A teenager, only a few years younger than them. Soap had been defending her. Ghost is still annoyed, but not quite as upset as before as he drags Soap back to the tower. He tends to a pouting Soap’s scrapes and sends him back to his room with a blooming black eye.

The next day, when Ghost is reprimanded for allowing Soap to leave his room and get hurt, Soap jumps in to defend the Royal Protector. Ghost manages to avoid punishment, although Soap and his black eye make quite the sight as his mother chews him out.

After that, they get closer.

As it is his duty to do so, Ghost follows Soap just about everywhere, much to Soap’s annoyance. When Soap isn’t sneaking out, roaming the city streets, or meeting up with his friend Gaz, he likes to find reprieve in the small patch of woods near the tower. Sometimes he takes a dip in the small pond located there.

“C’mon, Ghost,” Soap urges, waggling his eyebrows as he tosses his shirt to the side. “The water’s fine.”

“I’m supposed to be guarding you,” Ghost says gruffly as Soap steps in. He tries very hard not to look at Soap’s chest, his strong biceps, or his tanned skin.

“You’re so serious all the time,” Soap huffs, taking his arm and playfully splashing Ghost with water. From the edge, Ghost is torn between wanting to splash him back and wanting to stay on guard.

“I won’t let you get in trouble,” Soap assures him. “You need to relax a little!”

Ah, fuck it. What’s a little fun? Ghost has more clothes back at the tower, anyway. He kicks off his boots.

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Ghost says.

“Warn me about wh—“

Ghost doesn’t hear the rest of his sentence. Clothes on, he impulsively cannonballs straight into the pond, splashing water all over the place in a huge wave. When he rises to the surface, Soap is sputtering and spitting water out of his mouth.

“I didn't mean come in like that,” Soap laughs incredulously. Later, when they return to the tower, Ghost dripping all over the floors and boots squelching with every step, Soap tells his mother that he pushed Ghost in just so that Ghost wouldn’t get in trouble.

Between their banter and jokes, Ghost also teaches Soap more about self defense, and they spar frequently. Soap gets better and better, but against Ghost’s years of experience and unnatural talents, Ghost still wins. Soap gets some good hits in, though, and he can hold his own in a fight.

Soap quickly becomes likable—and despite his intention to stay distant, Ghost starts crushing on Soap. He’s still professional, of course, but it’s hard for him to not like Soap, especially when they spend so much time together. Soap treats him well, too, and the brazen-faced man often shows him a softer, more kind side of himself. Ghost’s own facade slips more often than he intends it to.

Sometimes, Ghost wishes he could tell Soap about the Outsider’s mark. He doesn’t, and the Outsider never visits him either. Perhaps Ghost is too boring for him now that he isn’t a street rat.

Less than a year after Ghost is appointed as Soap’s Royal Protector, the Empress falls ill and dies. At only eighteen, Soap becomes the new Emperor of the Empire of the Isles.

Soap doesn’t get a lot of time to process it all when the council urges him to make a public statement and officially inherit the title. After, Soap stands with Ghost at his side as the aides move Soap’s belongings into his new quarters—his mother’s old room.

Soap doesn’t say a word and just stands there with watery eyes. Unsure if this was a line he should cross, Ghost attempts to go stand outside Soap’s door, but Soap asks him to stay. The new Emperor cries into Ghost’s shoulder that night.

Ghost tries his best to help Soap deal with his grief, but even with personal experience, he’s not the greatest at it. Even so, Soap begins to get the hang of being Emperor and proves himself to be a benevolent and competent leader. The people become fond of Soap and respect him greatly.

It isn’t enough to keep him from being targeted, though.

It’s a quiet night, nearly three years after being appointed Emperor, when a group of assassins makes an attempt on Soap’s life. Soap and Ghost are resting in a gazebo, looking out at the water, and standing much too close for Ghost to even pretend he’s being professional. He can’t stop looking at Soap, from his grown-out mohawk that hasn’t been trimmed in months to his beautiful blue eyes. Ghost wants to kiss Soap so, so badly, but he does no such thing, and resigns himself to observing.

Neither of them are prepared for the attack, but Ghost recovers first. There’s six of them, all covering their faces like Ghost does—perhaps they had heard of Ghost’s fighting prowess and thought that they could overwhelm him with numbers.

He doesn’t let that happen.

Everything comes in a rush, and he’s using the Outsider’s mark to prevent them from even touching Soap. Soap knocks one of them out in the ensuing struggle and beats the shit out of another, but Ghost is a whirlwind, dodging and Blinking to avoid blows, Wind Blasting his opponents to the ground, and using his sword like it’s an extension of his own body. It’s over quicker than Ghost had expected.

“Shit,” Soap says breathlessly, visibly shaken when Ghost pulls his sword out of the last assassin’s stomach.

“You alright, Johnny?” Ghost asks, stumbling forward, and finds that he’s very out of breath.

“Simon? What’s that on your side?” Soap asks, his brow creasing with worry. “Are you—“

Ghost staggers, and suddenly his side is bursting with pain. He can’t believe he didn’t notice it before. He reaches his hand to where the pain is radiating and can feel the hot blood quickly gushing from the wound.

“Simon?!” Soap rushes forward, and suddenly, Ghost feels a little too woozy. Shit, they must’ve gotten him bad.

“It’s fine,” Ghost grunts, trying not to worry Soap too much, but it’s starting to get dark and Ghost is dizzy.

The last thing he hears is Soap frantically calling his name.

When Ghost wakes up, he’s in a dim room that he recognizes as Soap’s quarters. There’s a weight on his thigh, and he looks down to see Soap’s head resting on him. Soap’s closed eyes are puffy like he’s been crying, and there’s shadows under them, too. Ghost shifts and lets out a groan as a sharp pain shoots through his side, and Soap immediately notices, his eyes snapping open.

But then his face switches from relief and crumples into a terrible, terrible guilt.

Soap sits up and lays his hand on Ghost’s chest, and Ghost realizes that he’s feeling how his chest rises and falls. Ghost doesn’t know what to say, but anything he possibly could fades when Soap lets out a shuddering gasp and begins to cry. It quickly turns into hiccuping sobs, and Ghost worriedly grabs Soap’s hands in his own, trying to soothe him.

“Ah, shit. Johnny, it’s okay,” Ghost says, wanting to lean forward but wincing. Soap pushes him back against the propped-up pillows, his cheeks wet with tears, lip wobbling, brows upturned in utter sorrow. Ghost feels like an asshole for letting himself get hurt so badly.

“It’s not. I thought you were going to die,” Soap says, his breathing hitched.

“I had to protect you,” Ghost says, running his hands up Soap’s arms.

“But—“

“Johnny, I’d do it a thousand times if it meant you lived.”

Soap sniffles and lays his head back down on Ghost’s thigh, and Ghost pets his hair.

Later, they talk about what happened. At Soap’s probing, Ghost cautiously admits that he had been marked by the Outsider as a child. Soap doesn’t seem to find this off-putting, nor does he call for Ghost’s arrest or beheading. He doesn’t seem to think any differently of Ghost, although he does seem incredibly intrigued by the mark on Ghost’s hand that he’d diligently kept hidden until now.

Only a day and a half after being stabbed, Ghost gets out of bed and hobbles around some, much to Soap’s displeasure.

When he gets tired, he lets Soap lead him back into bed. They’re close, and Ghost just can’t help himself. He strokes his hand through Soap’s hair softly, and Soap allows it—seems to enjoy it, even.

And then he’s using the hand in Soap’s hair to urge him closer, kissing him before he can stop himself, because he’s wanted to do this for three years at this point. Ghost quickly pulls back, though, stunned at what he’s just done.

Soap looks just as stunned for a moment, but then he grins.

“Is this your way of telling me you’re feeling better?” Soap laughs, following Ghost’s lips and kissing him fiercely.

“Better because of you,” Ghost manages to say between their desperate kisses. He doesn’t even care that his side still hurts like a bitch and that it’ll likely be weeks before he’s back on his feet.

“You big fuckin’ sap,” Soap says. “I love you.”

“Yeah?” Ghost breathes.

“Yeah,” Soap affirms, and that’s that.

#if you haven’t watched/played Dishonored before please do it omg #Wanted to make Ghoap’s situation similar to Jessamine and Corvo’s when they first met :)#This has been in my drafts for months but it’s probably not going to be a full blown fic #so I made it a drabble instead #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #cod #call of duty #dishonored #dishonored au #lemonwrap writes #drabble

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gallusrostromegalus · 2 years

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Do mermaids exist in tpof?

There's exactly one "Classic" Mermaid. A pregnant woman on the west coast of Ireland was afflicted by a curse where she'd give birth to a Lingcod instead of a human baby, but since she was carrying twins, the curse was split between them. One sister has a human head, chest and abdomen, and from her pelvic girdle on she has the powerful and beautiful tail of a Blue Lingcod. She's the current record holder for long-distance swimming, starred in several movies and holds multiple modelling contracts- but she's always been notably jealous of her sister, who has the head and chest of a Lingcod but the pelvis and legs of a human and (the source of her sister's ire) a devoted husband.

There's a few things that European sailors could have mistaken for human women while they were on long voyages, dying of syphilis and scurvy too- Dugong and Dolphins both exist in great numbers in TPOFATGIF, along with some very large Mimic Octopodes. But the most likely, or at least, most startling candidate is a creature only described in 1996- Ziphiius andersoni, or "Anderson's Beaked Whale", after the first ...semi-credible witness.

Ziphidae is a family of deep-diving whales whales known almost entirely by beached corpses, and Z. andersoni holds the peculiar title of the most and least seen member of the family. No body has ever been found to examine, but the animal is (apparently) the subject of many amateur sightings.

Like most Beaked Whales, Z. andersoni is about 13 feet long, and shaped like an extremely hydrodynamic sweet potato- a sharply tapered head, tubular body with small pectoral fins and a minimal dorsal fin, and an similarly sharply tapered tail with small fins, and a mouth with only two teeth- a pair of overdeveloped lower canine teeth that form a pair of tusks. Unlike most marine life, Z. andersoni has reverse Cryptic camouflage- where most marine animals are darkly colored on the dorsal side and pale beneath to hide from predators in the open water, Z. andersoni has a large, bright white pattern on it's back that starts at the head and runs the length of it's spine and across the tail fin, and includes both pectoral and pelvic saddle patches. between the whale's darkened and unusually anterior blowholes and the gloom of the twilight waters they inhabit, Z. andersoni's peculiar markings bear a STARTLING resemblance to a human woman with a piscene tail.

The species is named after the famed Fairy Tale Author, Hans Christen Anderson, who in 1835 saw what he described as a "Mermaid" swimming near the surface of the North Sea coast near Hanstholm, Denmark, when out in a rowboat with a cousin on a summer holiday. The Mermaid was "Ghostly pale, with large, dark eyes that stared up at us as she passed. She circled the boat thrice, seemingly regarding us with sadness, before she vanished into a cloud of sea-foam and we could not find her again." This encounter inspired him to write The Little Mermaid the following year. Despite his and his cousin's insistence that the event took place exactly as described, it was largely written off by the general public, and Anderson was discouraged from sharing it by his publisher.

In 1996, a family had a similar experience while Kayaking, save that this time the encounter took place in the sunny clear waters off Baja, Nihofornia, and the family had a video camera. A juvenile Z. andersoni approached them, circled the family a few times and even hung out under them for almost 12 minutes. This video proof sparked international interest, with dozens of other pictures, videos and oral accounts coming forward about encounters with these strangely friendly yet elusive creatures.

Most Recently, an exceptional individual, thought to be an old bull from it's size (i and scarring was seen following underwater welders as they repaired an underwater naval installation, picking off the curious squid that came to investigate the lights. The Naval Engineers have nicknamed the animal "The Duke", short for "Ducolax" on account of one of the engineers realizing there was 16-foot long, multi-ton carnivore floating just over his shoulder and (understandably) shitting himself.

#TPOFATGIF #The Power Of Friendship (And This Gun I Found!)#Yugioh #Yugioh fanfic #this is nowhere NEAR the weirdest thing that the whale family has produced in that Universe #Illustration to follow

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castrianamore · 1 year

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Bitter, Had the Heart

DC X Danny Phantom Crossover

Chapter 1: to see or to mistake

TW: Graphic depictions of Corpses, Mutilation, vile smells

Tim Drake was a brilliant Detective. He was a shareholder of Wayne Enterprises. Middle child of the family really. He was working on his degree in business at Gotham U, as expected. He also excelled, as expected. Nothing could have prepared him for this, though. I’m all his years of detective work nothing was quite this gruesome, this brutal. This slow.

A horrified terror filled expression struck across two gang member’s faces. Their deceased bodies had entrails splayed over the alley and he held a rag over his nose and mouth at the smell. It wasn’t just the decay setting into the bones and souls. It smelled like rotten eggs, sulfur. Mixed with the metallic scent of iron and blood and disgust.

Nightwing landed next to him.

“Oo that’s not pretty,”the man whispered. “Damn that stinks.” Time handed over a rag to his elder brother who very gladly put it over his nose.

“You’re telling me. This is one of the more brutal and gruesome cases I’ve seen in a while…” Tim was trying to take in what he could from below. They had to have been tortured alive as they had their entrails removed, at least most of the other rogue’s in Gotham made their subject’s deaths quick, even if painful but these? This was a new breed of brutal and horrific.

Tim was frustrated. He was a fucking detective for gods sake.

“How many is this now?”Nightwing looked at his younger brother before back down at the bodies.

“8… I think we can classify this as a serial case right now,”he huffed. He pulled out a notepad writing things down.

Smell of sulfur.

Entrails spread out.

Claw marks on the walls.

Symbols written into the alleyway walls in the blood of the fallen.

Faces frozen in horror.

This was the 7th and 8th one and of course it was similar to the others. Smell of sulfur. Entrails spread out. Once they got the autopsy report back he high suspected the heart will have been removed and a bite being taken out of the kidney if there even was one.

“So Gotham has another mysterious serial killer whose signature is as gruesome and messy as the Joker’s entire existence.” Tim had been frustrated with this case since it started and he was beyond grateful for the help. A lot of the bats were in on the case at some point. Duke had been trying to do Daytime recon. Tim and Dick were keeping up with police investigation, namely Dick who claimed he was coming from Bludhaven to help with the case. Got them both the inside information.

Bruce and Damian were trying to track down anything and it had been all hands on deck to keep a watchful eye on the city. Cass and Steph were off-planet apparently dealing with something from the covert ops team of Young Justice. Barb was doing her best to play eyes as she kept an eye on the various cctv footage around the city, but Gotham was big and there was always crime to attend too.

Tim was stretched thin himself. He normally had shareholder meetings in the mornings at least once a week, sometimes twice, and after that it was to his college classes. Tim had college, patrols, the company. Fuck. Let alone the occasional charity galas and other events he had to go to not only as a wayne but as a head of the company as a whole.

Tim was running on fumes as this case was running him dry. That was another reason why Dick was in town to lessen the load on Tim. He liked college and he knew that he wan’t exactly the most social person let alone the most normal(look at his job?) but he did want to do things sometimes with his friends. Though, he was sure his ‘friends’ probably wouldn’t be around for super long. Having mundane friends outside of super hero life was hard, let alone a romantic relationship. He had tried with the other heroes. He had tried with civilians but the civilians just couldn’t understand the time necessary and the excuses he was going to have to make.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to pursue a romantic relationship but it just simply felt as if he had no choice but to not. Wow, he was tired if hid mind was going off on it’s own separate tangent in mind distracting him from the task at hand. Speaking of…

A small flash of one of the police’s camera’s caught him off guard. Unbeknownst to the group a man in black tech wear with white accents and a mask pulled over his nose was crouched by the body. Hands gloves and a hood up over barely visible black hair. He was taking a sample it seemed of, what was that? How did he not notice that?

There was a green viscous liquid and he just collected it, not just an incredibly small amount, but what was on the body at all. It reminded him far too much of Lazarus water for his liking, but if someone had poured gelatin in it.

“Wing,”Time stated wide-eyed at him.

“I see.”

“We have eyes on a potential suspect,”Tim called over coms.

“Do not engage, follow,”Batman’s words echoed back to him. Duh. They wanted information on the dude. The two backed into the darkness a little more as soon as the police-men turned around he was gone. Tim and Dick watched his foot catch on the ledging as he climbed onto the roof of the building pulling down his hood and looking around. Eyes covered by a pair of goggles that were a stunning and haunting green color. Then it seemed he spotted the bats even from their vantage point, and as soon as they noticed. The man took off running.

“Shit!” Tim exclaimed, moving to jump onto the roof to pursue .

“Red! No engaging!”

“I’ve been following this shit for months, I’ve never been then close to a lead Nighty!” He exclaimed moving to follow.

“Language! But, really?!?” Nightwing followed after time the two moving with ease.

“Stop!!!” He yelled at the black masked figure who merely cocked his head to the side running backwards for a moment before jumping across to the next roof doing a roll. Experienced in parkour at least as Tim and Dick followed suit. Fuck he was fast.

“We need to corner him,”Dick hissed.

“Don’t tell B…”

“Don’t tell B what?”Dick replied before Tim threw two batarangs at his target.

“Red!” Dick exclaimed as the man dropped sliding on his knees to avoid the first one but as he got up the second one hit his leg. Bullseye. The person tripped holding his leg for a moment. A small grunt of pain could be heard as he scooted away from the two of them. The way their face was covered left no idea what thoughts crossed their mind. Nightwing landed next to Red as they stared at the man backing up against the wall to the roof.

“Don’t make us hurt you anymore. Tell us what you were removing from that crime scene,”Red threatened, grabbing his bo staff off his belt and letting it unfurl. The person shook their head as they used the short wall to stand up limping heavily. They weren’t incredibly close to the ground at the moment. At minimum a solid 8 stories high.

Pretty far up Tim would say. Which made the next move shake him. The man looked at them and slowly shook his head and by the time they both realized what they were doing their hearts broke. They gave him a farewell salute with two fingers and fell backwards off the edge of the building and neither himself nor Hightwing could catch him in time. Both running desperately to the edge wide eyed with panic.

It wouldn’t have been the first time someone had committed suicide to escape them. Tim doubted it would be the last either. Fate had it out for them in that way. Fate had it out for them in a lot of ways as Tim would find out over the course of events.

Though they never heard a smack against concrete as they rushed to the side, nor a scream of terror. So when they looked into the alley way the man wasn’t there anymore. Dick and him quickly using grappling hooks to get down.

“What the…”

“Where did he—“

“Infrared?” Dick suggested they both moved to look around them. Just the coldness of the alleyways and setting mid January weather. It was freezing in this alleyway.

“Is that a bed?”Dick pointed out the small campaign at the very back of the alley. A few cardboard boxes set up as a table with a few remains set there. Messy soaked sheets sat on top a cardboard bed with a messy pillow half destroyed it seemed

“Of course it’s a bad.” voice drawing them both out from their mission. “I never thought this would be the way I finally run into Two bats. You’re in front of my sleeping spot.”

They looked up to see a young man(teenager?) he only stood about 5’3. He was bundled up with a hoodie and a black trench coat over it. A soft blue scarf wrapped around his neck, hands shoved into his pockets with piercing blue eyes and ruffled black hair being held down by the matching blue beanie. He looked cold and from the infrared sensors on him the man was abnormally cold compared to most normal humans. A metà Maybe?

He had deep tired circles under his eyes. Skin far too pale to be healthy and a guant looks to his cheeks. His clothing almost just draping off his thin frame. He looked like he was very very sick if Tim could guess.

“Sorry for intruding, then,”Dick spoke up walking in front of him. Giving him a nod that he saw it too. “Did you happen to see a man fall from what roof?”

The man shifted and looked concerned Tim’s eyes looking of his shoulders, eyes, lips. Trying to pick up any subtle mico expressions.

“I just got back from classes, man,”The man sighs rubbing his forehead. “I’m half asleep and running 3 red bulls and a pack of saltine crackers.”

“Can we ask where you’re coming from?”Dick gave a charming gentle smile.

“The library.”

“I see, well we’re looking for a man dressed in all black with goggles with bright green lenses and black hair. He was sporting tech wear. You can give the police a call if you see anything?” Tim pulled out one of Greyson’s cards after he spoke. “We’re working with Detective Greyson at the moment for any leads so you can call the precinct if you see anything.”

The man took the card tossing it over his shoulder.

“ACAB, so can I sleep now? Or are we going to be playing a fun little game of 20 questions with me being the epicenter of the bats hyperfixations.”

“Ah… no, not at all. Have good night,”Dick stated as Tim was trying not to laugh as the man grabbing him grappling them up onto the roof. It was silent as they got a few blocks away before Tim burst out laughing.

“He just…”another laugh,”YEET!” Mimicking the card being thrown over his shoulder.

“That kid is suspicious.” Dick huffed maybe a little salty his normal charms didn’t work on him.

“He’s sassy not suspicious.”

“But his body temperature was—“

“He’s probably a meta Nightwing. Don’t tell the bats that you’re a meta, remember? It’s kind of Batman’s whole reason for keeping the city the way that it is, to protect metas.”

“You’re right.”

“I know. The kid looked exhausted the only thing I picked up from him was that he was beyond annoyed that he had to wait a second longer to go to bed. It’s,”he paused to look at his wrist. “2am.” A pause. If we was a student the mostly likely place he would have been would be the library. Even if you were walking from Gotham U library or a cafe it wouldn’t have taken you two hours to get where they were.” The library and most cafes closed at 11 or midnight.

“What did you realize? You’re smile fell.”

“The university library closes at midnight.”

“Okay and?”

“And this part of town is only a 45 minute walk from the library.”

“Is he our culprit they both have black hair. Could be especially if he’s a Meta explain why he was able to get away from us so fast.”

“I doubt it, that kid looked… sickly to say the least, but he was definitively hiding something.”

“So what was he hiding that he didn’t want the bats to know?

By the time they made it back to the alleyway the mysterious kid was gone.

“Dammit!”Tim exclaimed. This case was frustrating. Everything was going wrong.

“Look we at least know one thing right?” Dick was trying to make light of the situation. “He goes to Gotham U.”

“Dick.. we’re going to find hundreds of people who fall under the broad category. Let’s search “Black hair blue eyes” into the student database and see how many we come up. Let alone the fact that black might not be his natural hair color.”

“Hood could find him…”

“No, Hood has enough on his plate with these murders finding a homeless kid is not part of the problem at hand. The dude didn’t hurt anyone.”

“But if we run into him again,”Dick stared at the quickly disassembled bed the few ratty sheets now gone. “Do you think we could get him to the hospital for some help? Meta or not his readings were… rough.”

“We can’t force people into getting help all the time. It’s one thing for rogue’s who are more than a little insane but a guy who’s sick in the alley way?” Tim shook his head with a sigh rubbing the back of his neck. “We’d be chasing after half of Gotham.”

Tim rubbed his forehead a little frustrated with the general turn of events going on right now. Why couldn’t he get a lead on this fucker. He doubted that googles person would be much help. They looked like an investigator themself but at this point it was a lead and Tim was desperate. Each murder was more gruesome than the last like they were pushing their victims and themselves every time they did it. It had to have been a beast right?

“We need to find the masked person…”

“Yeah no I agree. Whatever they pulled off the body they were looking for that. They knew it would be there.”

“Think he’s the murderer?”

“Probably not, but they seem to know more than us which is concerning in its own right.”

“Not wrong there little bird.” Dick sighed. “We should leave. Head back to the cave.”

“Best, I have too many classes in the morning.”

“You have coffee addiction, you’ll be fine.” Dick smirked as they started back towards the cave moving to write a report of what they encountered on their patrol.

“You trying to feed my coffee addiction?”

“Absolutely not, B might kill me with that one,”Dick snorted.

It wasn’t as if Tim could sleep even as they got back to the manor to crash for night after writing their reports. He remained long after Dick had gone to get some sleep. Eyes focused on the screen and then down at his drawing in front of him. A rough sketch of the new person of interest.

Those eerie glowing goggles were stained into his mind as he leaned back in his chair looking at the file they had created for him.

Name: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Height:5’3 ~

Weight: 115-130lbs~

Appearance: Black hair in black tech wear and a respirator over his mouth and glowing green lensed goggles. White motifs along the outfit with a white D symbol over the left side of the chest.

Status: Unknown

Alignment: Unknown

All these unknowns. How were they supposed to figure it out. He had to meet this person again. He had to find them. He didn’t have a choice. This person was a key in his case. He sent a text to Jason.

“Keep an eye out for a guy that roughly looks like this” He sent an attachment of the drawing he did of the rough outfit in greyscale and what he saw.

“Oh… I know that dude. The people called him Distortion.”

What?

Jason knew of him? How did?

“How?” Cue Tim’s annoyed thoughts at how Jason didn’t care to share this information with them. Any of them. “And you didn’t think a new body on the streets who has a name wasn’t something you wanted to share with the class?!?”

More little bubbles as he was typing.

“He belongs to me that’s all you need to know. He’s an associate. A valuable acquaintance.”

“Well your associate was found removing evidence from my crime scene and bolting.”

“Need to know basis, Tim.”

“Do you know his identity?”

“No.”

“Age?”

“Yes.”

“Can i have it?”

“Absolutely not. He doesn’t want to be involved with the Bats or on your radar. I’d advise deleting the file you’re creating on him. He doesn’t take well to being on record right now.”

“Why?”

“Don’t know Don’t care but he’s incredibly useful and I’d like to keep him on our side and he was very hesitant on even coming to me. He only came to me because he’s operating out of my territory.”

“At least the guy has some respect.”

“He has street smarts. Now back off Tim. You know I let you in on a lot and that’s why I’m telling you this, but him? Distortion? Let him do his thing. If he tells me anything I’ll let you know.”

“What do you get out of this?”

“An investigator.”

“You have us?”

“Not all crime is big enough to involve the bats. Not all crime I can do all the work for for myself. He helps me out locating information and in exchange I leave him the fuck alone.”

Tim stared at the texts.

More typing bubbles.

“You tell Dick, Damian, or especially Bruce about this and I will rat you out for the Yelen case.”

Tim would be silent after all…

He stared at his doodle, ripping it up. It looked like shit anyways. He rubbed his face frustrated really as he made no changes to the file. Dick didn’t have to know about what he knew. This felt wrong to him though. Not just the whole Jason apparently knowing of the guy. If Jason knew of the guy but he remained under the radar of the rest of the bats it was concerning, and even as close as he was to Jason he wouldn’t put it past that guy to keep his issues to himself.

He always thought of himself really. First and foremost. It had been that way since his return mostly. It wasn’t like he never tried. Birthdays and holidays he’d show up. Tim wasn’t going to like that he noticed the mans change in demeanor the past year had done for him. A decrease in murders Jason committed in Crime Alley.

It was subtle enough unless you were looking for it, it wouldn’t be noticed, but tim did. Tim did notice. It reminded him of that breakdown he had a while ago. The anger returning to his brother like it had been there all along slowly increasing. The pit madness returning with a full force nearly driving Jason away from everyone. Jason wouldn’t talk about why the pit madness hit him so hard again.

He wasn’t exactly a feelings guy. None of them were. Dick was the most open of the Bat siblings to openly talk about their emotions and hell Duke had the most normal of a life before it all. Even he was hesitant. They all saw the Black Canary at least once every 6 months and that was only after a begrudging agreement with Black Lightning and the rest of the justice league. Most of they, themselves, weren’t involved in the justice league.

It was also why Cass and Steph being asked to go seemed to set him off. It wasn’t his place.

“He belongs to me..” Tim whispered out the words with a slight possessive tome looking at their texts chewing on his lip a little. A small habit he picked up when he was lost in thought and alone. Usually only when he was relaxed and with family. He couldn’t let people read his microexpressions out in public.

“For a solitary man, that’s quite a possessive statement Jason,”he mumbled into the batcave before standing up and walking up the stairs to his room. Not that he got much sleep either.

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