#no need to tell me that knights were assholes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gremlingottoosilly · 7 months

Text

Cabin in the woods (yandere!shasher!Konig x fem!Reader x yandere!slasher!Horangi) chapter 5

Your friend is being tortured. Unfortunately for you, Konig and Horangi aren't exactly satisfied with just his misery.

WARNINGS: Blood, dub-con bordering on non-con, general slasher-y, mild knife stabbing

Masterlist with all chapters This on AO3

— Alright, kitten, let’s try this again. The knife goes inside, the guts go outside. What is there to mess up?

— Don’t…don’t call me that. — How should I call you then? Future victim? — No? Please?

— I’m old and I’ve seen all this shit before, kitten. Let me call you what I like and maybe, I won’t prolong his death too much. Or yours, for that matter. The shorter guy pushes the knight into your hands, making you press the blade against Max’s stomach. You refuse – as much as you can, with your trembling hands and desire to survive, no matter what. Max is frozen in the chair, tied up as securely as possible without cutting the circulation in his hands – the bigger psycho told you something about letting the blood flow freely, so your first killing experience would be more fun.

Fun – the fuck was he thinking?

Max is fixated in one place and you are holding the knife – well, to be quite certain, Horangi wrapped his hands around yours, making sure that you won’t try to wrestle the knife out of his hold and aim it at them. He makes you push the blade deeper, and scrap Max’s skin – his clothes were torn by the taller killer, another sentiment of his raw strength. You feel tears collecting in your eyes – you feel dread in every inch of your skin, walling in the endless possibilities of manslaughter.

You feel the interest picking up at the level of your groin. You try to tell yourself that this is just adrenaline, a natural reaction, the big guy was basically fondling your pussy and trying to get you as aroused as possible before he got distracted by his partner – it’s only normal that your walls are clenching around nothing, that you are trying to think about different things and failing miserably. You don’t feel excited about killing your friend because it is simply impossible – even when said friend is as fucking horrible as one person can be. Even when this friend crosses the academic rivalry and dives deeper into the river of being a fucking asshole Even when…

— Her hands are trembling. Cute.

— Kitten’s first murder?

— Should have left the slut for her. Would be a nice cat fight.

— Don’t think she knows how to fight, She doesn’t even try to get the knife, Ko.

You writhe in his hold, trying to resist his firm, strong hands pressing on yours – but you both know that you are merely pretending, that you just need to try something so you won’t feel as fucking horrible about not doing anything to save your friend. You say to yourself that this is simply self-preservation. You can’t resist your captors, you don’t want to die a horrible, painful death – which is why you are so ready to inflict that on Max. You’d pray for his forgiveness in hell, but you both know that he spends most of his time on r/Atheism.

Killers just love to speak like you are not even here – and you would love to not be here, you’d pay literally anything to just run away as far as possible, to not have them after you. You tried to run already, tried to resist – tried everything you could, and yet, it was impossible. No matter how much you try, they are always a step ahead of you – sometimes even literally, when they both are pushing you between them like you are merely a toy for their amusement. Perhaps, in some twisted way, you are. They speak over you, against you, and you hate the little nicknames they are giving you – treating you like a pet even though you do not know them, and they only know you for barely a few hours.

This is probably something about you, making you a perfect victim. You always thought that your adaptiveness was just a signal of people pleasing and a horrible lack of spine – but it saving you now, keeping you interesting enough for the maniacs. You’d pay anything not to be their favorite, but you already know how they treat those who are of no use to them. And you’re fucking scared of dying.

— You need to press deeper if you want to hurt him, Schatzen.

It’s a good thing that they gagged Max’s mouth. You don’t know why, it seems like too much mercy for someone like them, but at least you won’t have to hear him screaming – especially when König envelops your hands on top of the hands of his partner, pressing it against your friend’s soft gut.

You never knew that human flesh is so…vulnerable. You don’t even need any strength, they are doing all the job for you. you are the one holding the knife but you find a small mercy in thinking of your impact as just this – being a knife. An instrument. Instruments don’t have free will, you can’t blame a gun for killing a person – blame the one who fired it. You didn’t gut your friend, you were just doing what a good object is supposed to.

God, you feel awful.

— I don’t…please, don’t make me do this, please…

You whimper, pathetically – König can barely contain his erection. God, you’re simply fucking perfect like this, hands already covered in blood splurging from the small cut you made on this guy's stomach. In a rite of passion, König moved one of his hands to rip the gag off his mouth, listening to the beautiful squeals the guy was making. All of these pig-like screaming got him wanting a nice, hot Schnitzel. He licks his lips, tilting his head to look at the screaming man.

— Screams like a pig.

— More like a whaling dog.

— Cut him again, ja? Deeper, or you’ll be sitting next to him.

König knows that he won’t do it. You might be a weird addition to their little duo, but they both knew that they wanted someone, a pet for them to share – not because of some weird kinks, although it’s part of the reason, mostly out of a desire to be dominant to someone helpless, someone pathetic and weak. Someone who is so fragile would need constant protection, and constant putting in their place. Horangi’s savior syndrome and König’s control freakiness coming from his days as colonel made them…unstable, a bit.

Until they found little ol’ you.

— What the fuck are you doing?! Max can finally scream – and he screams at you, not the killers. You cry and shake, trying not to fall unconscious because of the tension and here he is, making sure that you feel as horrible as he is – mentally, for now. The pit in your stomach grows deeper with every squeal, you want to shut your ears and scream until your throat is sore, you want to push the knife away and hide somewhere. The hands are holding you in place and you can barely move.

You plead – you want to take Max’s place, you hate being the object of their affection, your hands are trembling and your body is barely moving. Your head is still pounding and you feel like you’re going to fucking die because you can’t even breathe and you panic and…

— Hey, Calm down, ja? You don’t want to do this?

König is surprisingly gentle when you sob, hands shaking uncontrollably. He pushes Max to the ground, poor guy is falling down, still tied up to a chair, probably hitting his head on the cold basement floor – Horangi pushes him even deeper with a kick on the ribs and you hear the sobs, so uncharacteristic for a smartass like Max. You don’t want to be here, you don’t want to be here, you don’t want to be here, you don’t want to-

— Please, d…don’t…

König gently puts your face in his hands, holds you as softly as someone like him can.

Then a hand lays on the curve of your ass – a harsh, rough spank that made your skin burn even through the jeans. You yelp, tears flowing freely down your face – König laughs, putting you in your place like a fucking unruly animal. The betrayal of the previous softness makes you cry.

— It’s okay, Schatzen.

You refuse to look when the knife goes inside Max’s stomach. You refuse to look even when the second guy twists your face in his hold and makes you open your eyes. Blood, nothing but it – it stains his clothes, your clothes, it makes you want to ouke and you fall to your knees because this is not happening, it could not be happening, your hands are clean and perfect, they would never be able to kill a living, breathing being – this isn’t something that you would do, ever. This isn’t something that…

— Thought she’d be calmer by now.

— She is a bit skittish. Might have to lock her in the basement.

— And getting rid of all the thrill.

— Didn’t you want to elevate us to the next level?

— I was talking about adoption, Ko. Maybe getting a freaking puppy, for starters.

— She’s the second best thing.

König’s hand goes to scrub your neck and you exhale loudly, still terrified of him. Poor, naive girl, just how scared you are of them – it’s funny, really, ridiculous even. They could have killed you any second now, so, if they aren’t doing it, you must be calmer now, no? Your reactions are adorable, but he starts to think that he won’t be able to make you choke on his cock like this. Scared animals tend to show their teeth and, well, he still wants his dick to be with him.

Maybe with a gag…

He pushes a finger in your mouth – to his and your surprise, you don’t even bite him out of instinct. You wince, but don’t refuse – just look at him like a caged animal. He liked that look on you, made you all nice and submissive just for him and Horangi. God, it was so long since they were with someone so soft, so…weak. He counts your teeth – might need to pull something out, a trophy for him. Tugs at your tongue and you immediately started to suck on his fingertip – a welcoming intrusion. He didn’t intend anything like this, just wanted to check your biting reflex, but if you are welcoming…

Hong-jin catches the look on your face and the expression that can be so easily read on König’s face. You’re both adorable, his perfect fucking partners – or a partner and his victim, to be quite right. He swiftly helps König undo his pants, knowing how tricky those cargo and multiple belts can be – everything to not let their prey get an advantage over them in any way. Getting sloppy seconds sucks, but the bigger killer would make you nice and warm for them, broken in exactly right.

Besides, even if you would bite off a few inches of König’s cock, it wouldn’t do much difference. The man would still be a fucking stallion.

You start to panic when Max isn’t even dead yet, and the killers are pushing their pants down, making you work your mouth on the enormous bulge in König’s briefs. You wince, closing your eyes and pretending that you are not here, that this isn’t happening, and you’re stuck in your happy place, actually, forever and ever, and…you want to cry and whimper, and you do – you can feel blood slowly coating the floor.

You lapping your mouth on the underwear of a serial killer while your friend is slowly bleeding from a deep cut on his stomach. You smell the usual things, that you are accustomed to already – sweat, blood, metal. The same knife that cut Max is pressing against your neck right now, urging you not to bite on the killer’s cock. You are worried more about vomiting all over his legs – but you don’t want to get your neck scrapped too. You gulp, seeing the outline of a huge, enormously thick cock poking out of the top of a simple black briefs. There is…there is no way it would fit – your mouth can only open so far, you are not a fucking snake, you are…

Horangi pushes his boot to your clothed cunt. Presses deep, the narrow part is strangely hot between your legs. Jeans and panties are securing your dignity for now, not allowing the full strength of those feelings to rise, but you were already aroused before and the new pressure is only making it worse now. You open your mouth – maybe in shock, maybe in a feeble attempt to make them stop – and König pushes the head of his cock right in.

Your throat is welcoming him. Tight and warm around his shaft, he can only push further and further, making it impossible for you to close your teeth enough to bite. He can feel the stretch of your jaw, how perfect the bulge in your throat looks for him – he can think of a few new ways of making your body bulge both from him and Horangi. It was quite a while since they had a partner to try double penetration with.

When you choke on the dick penetrating your mouth, Horangi can only chuckle, pushing his boot even deeper against your pussy. He can feel the wetness of your intimate parts, even through the jeans – you’re a dirty thing, getting off their touches while your friend bleeds to death. If he wasn’t so unsure that those pricks don’t have any STDs to give you, he’d use Max’s blood as a lube. Maybe make you lick it as you did with his knife. Maybe he’s…shit, all of these lewd thoughts make him want to fuck you right now – and he is certain that a dick in your cunt, no matter how wet and slutty it is, will break you right now. Fuckin’ civvies and their fragile brains.

— Where we would dump his body after it’s done?

Horangi can speak normally, for now. His dick is throbbing painfully in his pants, but he knows that at least one of them should remain calm and think with their upper head unless they want you to get away with your little friend. You are surprisingly resilient for prey – albeit a bit dumb, like all normal people are when the situation turns into a life-and-death one. His boot isn’t soft on your folds, the rough fabric of your jeans only making it worse - you still squirm and moan, crying on König’s dick and sending delicious vibrations down your throat.

— C…can feed him to the river.

König is breathing heavily, his hand goes to grab your hair and make you take his dick whole. He doesn’t really care if you are choking – giving you the opportunity to breathe through your nose should be nice already. You don’t want to admit it, but it’s still better than getting killed – you suck as enthusiastically as possible, just so you won’t make them too mad at you. Just so the feeling of heavy dick in your mouth would push away every other thought – about Max, for example.

The guy is still bleeding on the chair right next to you – but every last bit of your brain, still remaining in your head, is getting pushed to the very back by König’s dick and Horangi’s boot.

You whimper when the pressure on your pussy grows faster. You don’t want to cum, you can’t cum like this – fully clothed, covered in blood and scratches, on the boot of your tormentor. You don’t want this to be pleasurable, but it’s better than having them rape you raw – you try to say that your reaction is normal, you’re just adapting, you don’t actually get off your helplessness and the feeling of complete loss of power and responsibility, but you know that, deep down, it’s all bullshit.

You like sucking him off – you’re wet enough from the lack of oxygen alone, not speaking about anything else. You like being on your knees, supported by a boot rooting in your cunt – and you also adore the fact that you don’t have to do anything. König is content with slamming his dick in your welcoming mouth without calling you a passive bitch with zero skills, and Horangi seemingly gets off just making sure you’re as aroused as possible. In a different circumstance, you’d beg them for more.

In this situation, however, you just try to block out the bleeding guts of your friend less than a meter away from you.

— We have to keep her, Tigeren.

— What if she’d run away?

— I can cut off her legs…Scheisse, she just got tighter from this. Good job, Katzen.

— We can keep her in the basement, but she needs regular walks.

— I will walk her.

— With sawed legs?

— I can hold her in my arms.

— We still need to take care of her friends first.

They both humm in acknowledgment, Horangi almost stopped pursuing your tenderness – only to slam harder, getting on his knees to take off your jeans completely. You shiver in the cold air, feeling the torn fabric falling down your legs. Of course, just taking your pants off normally wouldn’t be enough – he needed to rip them off, breaking the boundary between a fashionable and unrepairable.

You whimper – the soft, thin fabric of your simple panties isn’t nearly enough to stop your puffy cunt from being wet. The white fabric is almost transparent from your juices, it’s pathetically easy for Horangi to make you squeal on his boot. He presses and rolls the rounded end down your panties and up your cunt, making you cry from the sensation. Your little whines only make the experience better for König – who already got his hand on the back of your head and slammed all length inside, making sure that your jaw would fucking hurt.

You choke when he suddenly slams into your throat with full force – not allowing you to just hold his dick in your lips like you did before. You choke even more as his cum fills your throat. You don’t have to taste it, thankfully, your tongue laying flat under his dick. You can almost expel yourself from the situation, pretending that it’s your favorite movie characters or videogame heroes.

You can try to pretend that you are not cumming from your pussy being folded by the killer’s boot.

— Did you cum? Good girl.

— College girls became sluttier since I was in college, ja?

— I doubt you were in college, Ko.

You hear their banter and can see the bigger man showing the other one on the shoulder. You don’t react, frozen in place, on your knees. Your naked legs are scraping on the floor, which is definitely filled with corpses and some nasty vermin – you can’t force yourself to care about it right now. You can barely fucking thing, just wanting everything to end so you could go to sleep happily. So you could close your eyes and never fucking open them again.

You are being ushed to the air by your hands – like a cat, the one from insanely long memes. You whimper, thinking that killers probably have half a mind of just fucking ending your life once and for all – you gave them everything they needed, and now your helpless figure, coughing down the cum coating your throat, is probably of no use to them.

You can try to save your life. Really, you can – maybe they won’t listen to you but maybe, if they didn’t kill you yet, they can consider just…letting you go. Maybe these predators are getting sated on just Max’s body. Maybe you can still try to run away.

— I…I don’t know who you are. If I just go, I won’t even be able to tell the police anything.

— You’re implying we let you go because you don’t know who are we?

— I won’t tell anyone. I don’t even know German!

They laugh. The worst possible reaction – you feel blood drained from your body. God, are…are they going to murder you because of this little stunt? The bigger guy goes to you, cupping your face in his hand.

The other one goes under his mask.

— Hans, callsign “König”. Colonel for mercenary company, if that’s not enough.

You couldn’t even close your eyes before you saw him fully – ginger hair, uneven stubble. Face, covered in scars. You want to say that this is the face of a killer, you know this is the face of a killer – the handsome one. The pretty one. Not in the way that boyband singers are pretty, not cute – but you can’t deny that putting a face to your tormentor figure made your already soaked cunt even more wet.

— Hong-jin, callsign “Horangi”. Still think we’re going to let you go?

They are handsome – both of them. Without masks, their voices are unfiltered, pure. You see a handsome Asian man with a face covered in scars and burn masks, and his partner, covered in the same fashion. You knew they must be from the military, judging by the uniform and mannerisms – but you never knew they would be this…

You begged them to let you go, saying that you won’t tell anybody about them. You both know that you are not getting out of this forest alive, knowing their names and how they look like – you won’t even be able to pull out a “Hush” move and just text everyone who are they – no cell service and no family to try and search for you in rural Austria.

You collapse to the floor when König gently pushes your face up, smothering your lips with a kiss.

You are not getting out of this forest.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #horangi x you #horangi x reader #horangi x könig #yandere horangi #horangi #kim hong jin #slashers #slasher

679 notes · View notes

neonghostlights · 3 months

Note

Hi i love ur work i wanted to ask if maybe you could do a eddie muson x reader but like with a practical magic au (if you didn't see the movie you should its great) where the reader makes a spell for true love like sally did in the movie🎀🎀🎀🎀

I LOVE THAT MOVIE AND ITS BEEN TOO LONG SINCE I’VE SEEN IT!!!!

“He’ll listen to loud music only,” you said as you picked the flower petals and dropped them into the bowl.

“He’ll have wild hair and only dress in black.”

You sprinkled in some of the herbs.

“He’ll tell stories so imaginative that’ll it’ll feel like you’re really there.”

“He’ll have brown eyes, so large and beautiful that it’ll feel like you’re melting when you’re looking into them.”

“He’ll have a heart of gold and will stand up for those who need it.”

“He won’t fear me or my magic,” your young voice cracked, remembering the mean kids at school.

You were imagining your perfect knight in shining armor to protect you from your bullies. You were leaving soon, going away from Hawkins to a town where no one knew you or your sister so you could have a normal life.

You moved around the greenhouse, plucking your supplies and putting them in the bowl.

It was a random idea, mostly out of curiosity and boredom after you found the spell in your aunts spell book.

“I thought you didn’t believe love spells were ethical,” your sister said, face scrunched as she took in what you were doing.

You shrugged, “It’s more like a wish. He probably doesn’t even exist anyway.”

You were letting the sun soak into your skin, humming as you flipped through the pages of your book.

This town had been turned upside down when you arrived back home after over fifteen years away. You were now into your adult years and kept to yourself but people still treated you like a villain.

People shot you dirty looks as they passed by you in the park. Your family and it’s history ran deep and people in small towns didn’t tend to forget.

The quilt underneath of you was something your mother’s mother had made and it pulled you into sleep, especially with the cushioning of the grass underneath.

You woke up with a gasp. You were drowning, just like this town had drown the witches before you in lovers lake, or so the stories go.

“Hey!” A voice cut through your gasping. “Why’d you do that, you fucking asshole?!”

You cracked your eyes open, hands grasping the quilt that was still underneath of you. You were still in the park, very much on dry land. But your face, hair, and front of your white summer dress were soaked from the water the snickering kids had dumped on you.

“She didn’t do anything to bother you, you little shits!” The voice yelled, coming closer.

The group of kids paled, running when they saw you had opened your eyes.

Every one is brave until the witch looks their way.

“You okay?” The man asked, leaning down and putting his face near yours.

“I’m okay. Sorry, it just scared me,” you said, breath hitching as you looked into two brown eyes.

You were melting, floating away by how intoxicating the chocolate and gold of his iris mixed together.

He’ll have brown eyes, so large and beautiful that it’ll feel like you’re melting when you’re looking into them.

He looked dazed as well, blinking a few times.

“I, uh, sorry.” He said awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“No, no. It’s okay. Thank you for coming to my rescue,” you said with a smile.

“No problem. I’m not gonna just stand around when there’s a damsel in distress.”

He’ll have a heart of gold and will stand up for those who need it.

“Well, I’m sure this damsel in distress was gasping like a fish out of water,” you joked.

“I almost didn’t hear it sent my music was playing so loud,” he said as he gestured to his earphones.

He’ll listen to loud music only.

You sat back on your wet quilt. He stayed knelt in front of you. Not saying anything but still not wanting to leave quite yet.

You took in his appearance, the way he wore his hair and dressed.

He’ll have wild hair and only dress in black.

He blushed when you realized he was examining you the same way you were examining him.

“What’s that?” You asked, looking at the black journal he had tucked under his arm.

“Oh, that’s just stories that I write. It’s kind of lame but-”

“I don’t think that’s lame at all,” you interrupted.

“Did you want to read some?” He asked shyly, holding the journal out to you.

You took it, setting it on your lap as he sat next to you on the quilt, so close that your legs were touching.

He won’t fear me or my magic.

Younger you would be amazed.

Not only did the man you wished for exist but his name was Eddie Munson.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x witch!reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female!reader #Eddie Munson practical magic au

259 notes · View notes

pinguwrites · 8 months

Text

You Set My Soul Alight | Jonathan Crane

Pairing -> sub!jonathan crane x villain!reader

Summary -> You and Jonathan Crane have always been at odds. He's an arrogant asshole and you're a sarcastic shit, and no matter what you always find a way to bump heads. The worst part about it is that deep down you find him brilliant and attractive and utterly intoxicating. One day, Crane comes to you with a plea to enticing to resist, and you find this the perfect opportunity to put him in his place.

Warnings -> smut (minors dni), enemies with feelings, sub!Jon acting like a brat, swearing, dom!reader, degradation kink, ma'am kink, unprotected sex, edging, hair pulling, ball slapping, slapping in general, if you squint real hard Jonathan's lowkey a little sexist, bruce wayne is a playboy, reader's kinda a simp

Word count: 5k

Disclaimer: The Dark Knight trilogy/DC characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Jonathan Crane glared at you, his piercing blue eyes filled with a layer of contempt and almost embarrassment like he was regretting this entire endeavor. It was delightful, seeing him in this state, and you made sure to enjoy every second of it — the way his cheeks were tinting a light pink, his muscles tensed up and his tone coming out a desperate yet still arrogant plea. Moments like these were rare, and you were ready to savor and drag them out every chance you got.

“I need your help,” he repeated, his tone distasteful like he was swallowing a bitter pill. “I told you, I need more money for my experiments, but I can’t do it without any funding. Wayne Enterprises is hosting a gala next week. All the richest of the city will be there and all of them are looking to donate. Charity, science, whatever will make them look good. I know you’re going, so I’m asking — as polite as I can be — please, get me an invite.”

You tilted your head to the side, eyes trailing off to look at some random painting on the wall. You briefly wondered how he got past your home security, but after a few seconds, you focused your attention back on him. “Sorry, what did you say? Can you repeat that?” you said with a slight grin.

Jonathan pursed his lips. “Don’t be clever with me.” But then he shakes his head and lets his serious facade go. “We both know you have the connections to score another invite . . . Please, my darling.”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, the way it always did when he called you that. You wondered if he knew just how much you enjoyed it.

“I like it when you beg, it’s always been a good look on you.”

Jonathan smiles. A mock smile.

“Well, it’s true. No point in getting all upset.” You shrug, heading over to your kitchen to get some iced coffee for the both of you. “Tell me, why should I help you? Why should I help the man who has made it his mission to offend me every time we speak?”

You may have been a little unfair in saying that. Sure, he was a brat, but so were you. In fact, ever since you two met you had always been at each other’s throats, demeaning one another, insulting everything from intellect to personality to looks. You doubt your paths would have ever crossed had it not been for your good friend Harley, who introduced you both one fateful summer evening.

You don’t know what went wrong that day. Maybe it was the weather, the exceptionally hot wind that only frequented Gotham once every couple of years, the ones that made the city cranky and sweaty, or perhaps it was simply a bad first impression, the ones that just happened every once in a while. It had happened far too long ago to remember what it was that made you dislike Jonathan so much in the first place, and you were sure it didn’t matter. According to everyone who knew him, he had always been an ass, but he was good company once you got to know him.

Maybe he was. You wanted to figure that out, to peel away the layers of armor. You could be friends, lovers even. He could be yours. Yours to do whatever you wanted with. Yours to put in place, because god knows he needed it.

You weren’t sure when you started to think like this. To grow an obsession, but you did, and you couldn’t stop your feelings now. You didn’t want to stop. Loving Jonathan was too addictive, no matter how much he pretended to hate you — because you knew he didn’t actually hate you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t stop in once every while, under the pretense of snarky put-downs or brags. He wouldn’t graze his fingers with yours when walking by, and he wouldn’t ask your friends (namely Harley) what you did, what you liked, and what you talked about.

“Because deep down,” Jonathan answered, following you into the kitchen, “you know I’m brilliant, and you know I deserve your help.” He accepted the coffee, taking a small sip before continuing, “But you’re too prideful to admit it.”

“Maybe I am, but that’s not a good reason. Deserve isn’t enough, Crane. At least not for me. I know you can do better than this, convince me. That mouth must be good for something.”

Jonathan paused, his tongue briefly sweeping over his lower lip, making it glisten in the light of the lamp. You weren’t sure if the brief silence was because he got flustered, or he was just thinking. “Then do it because you want to,” he finally said. “Because you know my research is important and you care for it, enough to do me this one simple favor.”

“I don’t know . . .” you trailed off in a teasing tone.

It seemed like Jonathan was getting annoyed again. “My dear, won’t you help me?”

“I’m still thinking.”

He groaned. “Pretty please?”

You let out a little sigh, barely audible. “I will. For you.”

That last part had intended to come off as flirtatious and pretentious, but instead, it was soft and delicate, so vulnerable it took you off guard.

“Thank you,” he said, setting his glass down. He had finished all of the coffee, quickly enough so that there were still ice cubes lying on the bottom of the glass. “I’ll pick you up, around four. Who knows, maybe we’ll even have some fun.”

And that was it. He left through your front door without saying anything else, leaving you with thoughts of the gala and what dress you were going to wear.

That next week you had settled on one and bought yourself a burgundy dress, a beautiful shade of red, one like expensive wine or fresh blood, a color that you knew looked good on you. It was a deep cut that went through the valley of your breasts, but if you pressed your arms inwards just slightly, which you fully intended to do, they would push up. It was a look classy enough for a gala, but still seductive enough to garner attention.

Originally, you weren’t going to attend the function at all. This kind of stuff had always been boring for you, even as a child who was forced to go, but if Jonathan was going on your behalf then you sorta had to and definitely wanted to.

A ring sounded through your house. He was here.

You opened the door and took a deep breath once you saw Jonathan. He was dressed in a neat suit, but not like the suit he was wearing when you last saw him. This one was charcoal black, silky, and smooth, with a white handkerchief in his outer breast pocket. His shoes were the same color and looked like they had just been shined, and in his hand was a bouquet of red roses.

“For you,” he said, placing them in your hands. His eyes swept over your figure, and his mouth parted for a moment. “It matches.” You huffed, secretly flattered. “But it’s such a shame.” You furrowed your eyebrows, confused. “Such a pretty little dress wasted on such an ugly little thing.”

You blinked, and then tossed the flowers to the side, letting them fall into a patch of dirt (you were definitely going to pick them up later). “Like you’re such a piece of work.”

“I am,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Men and women love me.”

Despite how attractive you found him, you really didn’t believe that. You were sure his attitude warded most people off, and besides, he was an introvert and a criminal. Dating wasn’t just something people like him did often.

“We’ll see. This gala will be filled with attractive young bachelors. Get one interested in you and I’ll admit you're handsome,” you challenged.

“Admit?” He laughed, a beautiful laugh. “Admit implies that you already find me handsome, you just don’t want to confess so.”

This man needed to be slapped. He needed to be given a good, hard hit across the face.

“You know what? I feel like being alone tonight. I think I’ll just go to the gala without you.”

You were about to close the door, intending to head to your garage, but Jonathan grabbed your wrist and pulled you outside, shutting the door behind you.

“No takebacks. You promised. Where’s your honor?”

“Honor?” You scoffed. “I’m a killer, what did you expect?”

Jonathan must have really thought that you were going to leave because he gripped your wrist tighter. “I’m sorry,” he quickly said. “I’ll be good tonight.” He placed his index finger to his thumb with his free hand and made a zipping motion across his lips. “See?”

“You better be. I’m doing you a favor here. Now, come inside, we’ll take my car—”

“I have a car,” Jonathan said. “I even got us a driver.”

You took a peek over his shoulders. Sure enough, there was a fancy car waiting in the driveway, engine still on. It was difficult to see through the windows but you could make out the faint outline of a man in the driver’s seat.

“If you insist.”

He held out his arm for you to take, and while you did want to, you instead shoved it away. For a moment, you swore a flicker of hurt crossed his face, but it was gone too fast for you to be sure it was even there at all.

“Where’s my invite?” he asked.

“You don’t have one. You’re going as my plus one.”

“As your date?”

“It’s not a date. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy. What’s with all this complaining?”

“I’m not complaining, I was expressing my feelings. You should work on that. As a psychiatrist, I recommend—”

“—I recommend you shut the fuck up.”

Jonathan put his hands up, surrendering, but he did so beaming.

It hadn’t taken too long to get to the party. Traffic was high as always, but time seemed to be flowing faster than ever, despite you and Jonathan staying silent.

When you arrived there was a line of cars. Wayne Manor, a building you had only been to twice before, was still as impressive as you remember. It was a collection of elegant architecture and stonework, with a large wooden entrance that opened up to a main hall. The size of the driveway and front lawn was a bit unnecessary, at least to you, but what else could you expect from old money?

After getting out of the car you were greeted by cameras and reporters, lights flashing in your eyes, but you didn’t bother with them.

Jonathan reached out his hand, and this time you did take it — but only because everyone was watching, and if you pushed him away it would have caused an unnecessary scene. Jonathan’s driver drove the car away for parking and you both walked inside.

The inside was spacious, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and people dressed classy, with gloves and diamond earrings, all mingling and chatting with each other about the stock market or their annoying ex-spouse or how it was such a bother when their vacation to Switzerland had to be canceled because of work. There was a tray of snacks and waiters walking around with luxurious drinks, something you immediately took advantage of.

“Thank you, sir,” you said politely, taking a glass of champagne, but before you could take a sip someone called out your name.

You turned around to see Bruce Wayne himself waving over to you, a boyish charm about him. He had two women on his arms, models or prostitutes, or both, you couldn’t tell, but they were drop-dead gorgeous.

Your parents did business with him, and as a result, you met him at a young age. You were never really buddy best friends, but you went to the same school and that was enough for him to invite you to all his parties and greet you as though you were a family friend.

“You know Bruce Wayne?” Jonathan whispered, but before you could answer Bruce approached you both.

“I haven’t seen you around in a while,” he said. “This is Mila and Stephanie. Say hi ladies.” They giggled and waved as he gave the back of your hand a little kiss. “Gorgeous girl. You should wear these outfits more often, you truly look stunning.”

You let him put his arm around your waist, enjoying the compliment.

“Oh, no,” you said modestly. “It’s just a dress.”

Jonathan chuckles. “Ah, don’t be like that, my darling. You look exquisite.”

You all but glared at him. Now he said you looked nice.

“What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” Bruce removed his arm from around your waist and held it out to shake Jonathan’s hand.

“Dr. Jonathan Crane,” he responded, a little tense. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne.”

“Jonathan’s actually doing some research into brain chemistry,” you said.

“Really? Tell me about it, Dr. Crane,” Bruce said, flashing a charming smile.

“I would,” Jonathan responded, turning to you, “but I don’t wanna bore my girl.”

“Your girl?” Bruce repeated, eyes glancing at you. “ You’re a lucky guy. Tell me how scored such a beauty like her?”

“Oh, it wasn’t that hard.” Jonathan reached around and put his hand on your shoulder. “She was practically falling all over me.”

That was true, but your jaw still clenched. “He likes to exaggerate,” you told Bruce with a little laugh.

“Well, if you ever want to change things up a little, I’m right here.” Bruce winked comically, leaving with his girls.

You could tell Bruce wasn’t joking. It sounded like a serious offer, only told in a joking format so as to not rile Jonathan up, as he was under the impression Jonathan was your actual boyfriend.

“You’re a jealous mongrel,” you told Jonathan once Bruce was out of sight. You both walked over to a more secluded corner. “Can’t imagine the idea of having to share, huh? Had to go and make up stories?”

Jonathan scowled. “He was shameless around you. Be grateful I warded him off,” he said arrogantly. “And it’s not like you guys would have worked out. With what your hobby and all.”

You didn’t say anything. Jonathan was jealous, huh? You know felt a sudden urge to go after Bruce, get a little drunk, and follow him back to his room. It’s not like he wasn’t handsome, he was the most eligible bachelor in the city. And you did like him. He was funny and nice. Plus, you two had known each other for a long while. What a fun trope, especially if it was making Jonathan mad.

“A good fuck needs to work out only for the night.” You shrugged.

“You—you can’t,” Jonathan sputtered out. “You’re here with me, not him.”

“I don’t see the problem. I got you in the door and now you don’t need me anymore. What’s wrong if I have some fun?”

“You can’t.”

You waved him off, though you were enjoying the way he was pouting.

“Brat,” you muttered under your breath.

“I’m not a brat.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Excuse me for wanting to spend the night with you.”

“Then why don’t you act like it?” You grinned devilishly. “Act like you want nothing more than to be here.”

Jonathan’s breathing hitched. Yours did too.

“You want it?”

“Don’t be scared.”

After you said that he didn’t hesitate to lean forward to give you a hard kiss, bringing his hand around the back of your head to push you both even closer together. He pulled away, his face still close to yours.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, like that,” you breathed out.

“I can give you more,” he whispered in your ear, his breath almost ticklish. “I know you want it. Been fantasizing about me all this time, hmm?”

You smiled coyly.

“For me to bend you over like the whore you are—”

“—Careful, Crane. I might just have to slap you.”

“Say it. Say you want me to fuck you. Fucking say it—”

You took a quick glance around the room to see if anyone was looking, which they thankfully weren’t, and then gave Jonathan a quick, harsh slap to the face.

The force of it made his neck turn, and his cheeks immediately turned red. He stayed silent for a moment, looking up at you through thick eyelashes, eyes narrowed in lust. It was all the conformation you needed to grab his chin, lift his face up, and give him another slap.

Before you could say anything else he pressed his lips up against you again, pressing you up against the wall passionately.

You backed away, and he furrowed his eyebrows, but all you did was grab his hand, feeling a frenzy of desire take over you. “Let’s go.”

You dragged him through the sea of people and out a backdoor. There were a couple of people walking around in the garden, but you managed to find a place secluded enough for you and Jonathan. The ground was grassy and soft, and no one was walking by. Even if they did, they’d have to be purposefully looking for you two to see you both behind the trees and flowers.

“Lay down,” you ordered.

He grinned but did as you asked. “Here? Outside? You’re such a naughty girl.”

“Do you wanna wait until we get home?”

“No,” he said, a little too eagerly. “I want it now.” He sat up and tugged on your dress, running his hand up your leg. “You’re so soft,” he murmured, planting a few wet kisses on your thigh.

You sighed contently, enjoying the affection he was giving you. This moment felt like a haze, like the world was just slipping by and you were stuck in time, a feeling that made you wonder if this was a dream or not. The evening sunset and dark sky weren’t helping either. It all felt perfect, too perfect.

“Mmm.” Jonathan reached up and hooked his fingers into your underwear. You snapped out of your trance and swatted his hand away.

“Getting a little touchy there, aren’t you?”

He smirked, looking up at you through thick eyelashes. “Just tryna please you, darling.”

You thought for a moment, then decided that you would let him eat you out.

“Alright then. Please me, Dr. Crane.”

Jonathan’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment at the name, savoring the way it rolled so delicately off your tongue. He lifted up your dress and pulled down your panties. You kicked them off to the side and rested your dominant leg on his shoulder.

He pushed his finger against your folds, making a humming sound. “You’re so wet, darling.”

He leaned forward to suck on your clit roughly.

You lightly gasped at the pleasant sensation, bucking your hips into his face accidentally. You had meant to show more control, but how could you when Jonathan was so hungrily lapping? burying his face into your pussy like he was starved, passionately alternating between licking and sucking.

“Oh, Jonathan.”

His fingers, which had been gripping your hips, moved upward. As he continued to press his tongue against your clit his finger gently prodded your entrance, making sure that you were ready. He pushed his finger, curling it slightly.

You stifled your moans, not wanting a passerby to catch you two in the act, but you were finding it difficult. He kept thrusting his finger in and out of you, adding another one just a minute later.

You threw your head back, eyes shut. You held his head for balance and relaxed, letting yourself go into a peaceful bliss. But then you felt Jonathan’s teeth nip your bud, biting into it deliberately, and you yelped.

Gripping his hair, you forced him to look at you. His mouth and nose were covered in your wetness, and his lips were curving up into a delightful smile.

“What was that for?”

He shrugged. “Mmm, I couldn’t help it, Ma’am.”

Instead of reprimanding him, you took the selfish route and pushed his face in between your legs, grinding onto his lips until you felt that familiar sense of elated happiness. You came all over him, your brain shutting off, or rather, getting overloaded at that euphoric, all-consuming release.

You let go of Jonathan’s hair, but he didn’t pull away. He licked up your cum, making your nerves feel overstimulated, but after he was satisfied, he stopped.

“You like that?” he asked.

“F-fuck, yeah.”

You grabbed your panties and put them back on, much to Jonathan’s dismay.

“Where are you going?” He got up, using his sleeve to wipe off the remaining juices on his face. You could see a tent, his cock poking out from under his pants.

“Home, of course. And you’re coming with me.”

He shook his head vehemently, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his hard cock against your body. “Let’s finish this here. I can’t wait any longer. Don’t make me wait.”

“If you’re a good boy, you’ll wait.”

“I can’t,” he bitched desperately, hurriedly pulling down his pants. “I won’t. I’ve waited too fucking long.”

You grabbed his cock through the fabric, squeezing it tight in his hands.

His face contorted to one of pleasure and pain. “Huh!”

“You think you can just get what you want? After you’ve such a dick? Oh, ‘she was practically falling all over me’. ‘Such a pretty little dress wasted on such an ugly little thing.’”

“C’mon, I didn’t mean it! You looked so beautiful, I was just trying to make you mad. Be nice . . . Pleaseee?”

You gripped it tighter and he whimpered. “See how pathetic you get the moment I show an ounce of authority? How you start to beg? If I say something you do it. Do you understand?” He didn’t say anything, his lips still parted in pain. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes!” he choked out.

You let go. “Good boy. Now go call your driver and ask him to pick us up ‘round back. Unless you want everyone to see your erection?”

You gestured to the front of the manor, where through the bushes you could still see people enjoying the party.

“No, no.” He called his driver, trying his best to cover his erection by interlocking his hands in front of his waist. “You’re a cruel goddess.”

While you two waited for the driver, you peppered sweet kisses along Jonathan’s neck, but when he arrived, you stopped, making him groan at the loss.

Throughout the drive back to your place, you ghosted your fingers over Jonathan’s lap, occasionally resting your hand on his length. Once the driver dropped you both off, you wasted no time in pushing him to your room.

He took off his clothes as did you, his white cock springing up furiously. It was just the right size, bigger and longer than average, almost so that you worried about having to fit it inside you.

His figure was lanky, but still muscled, just the way you thought it would be. You placed your fingers on his chest, twisting his nipples. He shuddered and took off his glasses, placing them on the nightstand. You shoved him down on your bed and he immediately spread his legs, giving you perfect access.

“Want me to suck you off, Jon?”

“Yes!” he said impatiently. “Just do it.”

You spanked his balls with your hand, carefully watching the way they bounced ever so slightly.

“Nghh! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Do it whenever you feel like.”

Despite his words, you could see him waiting anxiously for you to touch him.

You did so, kissing the tip of his head and running your tongue through the slit, tasting the salty precum he was leaking. He hissed when you took his entire length. “Ah.”

You gripped your thumb so you wouldn’t gag and took him in all the way, hollowing out your cheeks. He thrusted up, deepthroating you for a hot second before he placed his hips firmly against the bed, not wanting to do anything that would upset you.

“So—so warm,” he stuttered out. “Can’t wait to feel your cunt, if your mouth is this fucking good.”

You would have said something, but your mouth was filled, busy bobbing up and down. He squirmed and moaned, shamelessly being as loud as he could. You could feel yourself getting wet again, but you controlled your urges for the sake of Jonathan.

He brushed your hair out of the way, scrunching up his face. “M’gonna — hnghhh — m’gonna come!”

That was when you pulled off of him.

It took a moment for him to realize what you were doing, but when he did, he wasted no time in complaining.

“No,” he mewled, tearing up. “I’ve been such a good boy. Such a good boy.”

“Have you?” You giggled.

“I need you, I need this,” he moaned. “I’ve wanted you so bad — that’s why I came to you, that’s why I came to you and no one else. I didn’t even need the sponsors that bad, I just wanted to see you. I . . . I’m in agony,” he continued dramatically.

“That’s sad.”

More tears ran down his cheek at your nonchalant words. He sniffled. “Please, stop that and just make me come!”

“Okay. I think you deserve it.”

But instead of putting your mouth back on him, you sunk onto his cock, slowly at first, so your pussy could get used to the size.

“Oh, fuck,” Jonathan cursed, placing one of his hands on your waist, his fingers digging into your skin. His other hand went up to play with your breasts, cupping and kneading them like they were pieces of dough.

You started bouncing, a string of incoherent words and moans leaving your mouth. Jonathan sat up and wrapped you in his arms, kissing down your neck as you moved.

“You feel so good,” you murmured, clenching around his cock. “I s-should have done this sooner.”

“Should’ve,” Jonathan agreed. “But — ah — we can always do this more often, yeah?”

Too blissed out to respond with words, you just nodded your head, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

It didn’t take long for both of you to come after that. His hot load spurted inside of you and you came again, but this time on his cock.

He collapsed, exhausted from the sensations.

You slowly got up, letting out a little wince as you felt his length leave you. You cuddled up beside him, caressing his cheek, wrapping you both in the blanket. He looked a little tired, and you didn’t blame him. So were you.

“You set my soul alight,” he said softly. “You always have.”

You wanted to ask him how deep his feelings ran, if this was just sex, or if it was something more, but when he fell asleep on your breast, you dropped the idea. He trusted you enough to let his guard down around you, and for now, that was more than enough.

The rest of the night was spent holding each other in your arms as you slept. When you woke up in the morning, he was still there, snoring softly like he was a peaceful angel.

You pulled him closer to you. “I’m never letting you go,” you murmured darkly. “Never.”

#Jonathan Crane #Jonathan Crane x reader #Jonathan Crane x y/n #Jonathan Crane x you #the dark knight trilogy #fanfiction #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x y/n #scarecrow x you #cillian murphy #pinguwrites

566 notes · View notes

irisintheafterglow · 6 months

Text

Quarter (opla!zoro x you)

summary: there's not much stability in his line of work, but at least he has you.

wc: 0.7k

cw/tags: descriptions of blood and injury, explicit language, mutual pining and unspoken feely feels

note: can be read as a standalone or with parley and no prey, no pay that exists in the same universe! hope you like it, something short and sweet for my favorite himbo man :)

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

“What, sneaking through the window or invading my house at ungodly hours?”

“Both,” he grunts, “though, I do regret not bringing those flowers you like.” He plants his feet unsteadily on your rug and you guide him to the sitting area of your room, helping him lie back on the loveseat. “What were they called? Bastards?”

“Asters,” you correct with a small chuckle, calmly retrieving the med kit from a nearby cabinet and grabbing a wet towel from the bathroom. His grimace softens as you sit in front of him, gently pulling back the blood-stiffened fabric on his torso. He flinches when the towel starts to wipe away the caked on blood and debris and you apologize absentmindedly. “Who’d you piss off this time?”

“Marines,” he says through gritted teeth while you soak the towel with alcohol and dab it across his wounds. You give him a pointed look and he weakly shows his palms in surrender.

“I thought we had an agreement not to get involved with Marines.”

“Some asshole got mad that I was taking his targets and put a hefty bounty over my head,” he says unconvincingly. “Ran into a few obstacles on the way here.”

“Were you followed?” He scoffs and immediately winces from the movement, cursing under his breath.

“Of course not. There’s no way in hell I’d ever let anyone find you here,” he promises and it makes your heart flutter. You were slowly rubbing away at the chalked line between you and Zoro, one that separated you from being more than friends. Though you didn’t know much about having close friends, you knew they didn’t look at you the way he looked at you now. It was too fond, too tender, too devoted. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

“Mmm, my knight in shining armor,” you tease and he glares at you half-heartedly. “Or, maybe ‘outlaw in tattered street rags.’ How does that one sound?”

“I’ll be anything you want me to be.” Your face suddenly feels like it’s been set on fire and you’re grateful that his eyes close so he can’t see what he’s doing to you. “How long do you think it’ll be ‘til I’m hunting again?”

“The unselfish part of me says a day,” you murmur, wrapping the gauze around his body that you knew like your own. His chest is completely uncovered now and you want to laugh at the irony of the shirtless, god-bodied swordsman lounging in your bedroom.

“What’s the selfish part say?”

“However long you’d let me keep you,” you murmur and he peels open a single eye to look at you, really look at you. “I miss you, you know, when you’re gone. It’s embarrassing.” He’s quiet, a thoughtful look crossing his face. It wasn’t often you left him speechless; he couldn’t tell if the airy feeling in his head was from the nausea or from you.

“I miss you too when I’m gone,” he answers just as quietly after a long moment of silence. With both his eyes open, his attention stays trained on your face as you reach out and brush a strand of green hair from his forehead. Your fingers on his skin feel electric every time, like he was being struck by white-hot lightning. “You shouldn’t have to stay up waiting for me.”

“But I will,” you reply without hesitation and pain blinks over his features. “Why the face?”

“I can’t do this to you,” he confesses and your heart plummets. Of all the words he could have said, those were the ones you didn’t want to hear.

“Do what?”

“This,” he insists, gesturing vaguely between you two and acknowledging the unresolved tension that pulled you closer to him like a magnet. “You deserve more stability than a come-and-go bounty hunter.”

“What makes you think I would want anyone else?” The earnestness in your tone stumps him into silence again and you can’t help laughing a little bit. “You know, for being the most feared man in the seas, you aren’t that self-aware.”

“I think part of my mind shuts off when I’m with you,” he says in that raspy voice that finally makes you crack, closing the distance between you two and sliding next down to him on the couch. His arms receive you as naturally as blinking and you can feel your own inhales and exhales relax as you both sink into each other’s safety. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he breathes.

“I think I can make a pretty good guess,” you yawn and settle further into his body. “You’ll stay for a few days, then?”

“I’ll stay for as long as you need me to.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #opla x you #opla x reader #opla x y/n #zoro fluff #opla fluff #one piece x y/n

324 notes · View notes

deliverusfromevillll · 3 months

Text

A Sticky Situation [Mammon/F!Reader]

❝ What fuckin' nonsense have ya' been telling y'reself this entire time? ❞

warnings ⨾ blood, descriptions of gore, guns, gunshot wound, choking, swearing, arachnophobia (the irony), established prior connection, soft mammon, sexual content, unresolved sexual tension, resolved angst

terms ⨾ ❝ Drakon ❞ the Latin word meaning "dragon." ❝ Bogan ❞ Australian slang meaning (in negative connotation) someone who's a bit of a nerd or geek, holds no dress sense and/or has poor social skills.

notes ⨾ I am very much not Australian so when I looked up slang and could not find ANY concrete definitions for anything: I was in major pain. Anyways quick thing because [F/n]'s lore might seem confusing. I created an entirely different race of "humanoid" dragons that acted as the knight/official guards for the Ars Goetia incase of extermination/assassination attempts. [F/n] retired from her position as knight for an unnamed Goetia. This entire chapter was originally 13K words but I felt as though the plot arc with the Goetia drifted way too far from the original point of this fic since it was so, so needlessly lore heavy for a reader insert and made this 100x more angsty like you have no idea. Especially since this is only meant to be two chapters. This chapter was cut down for your reading pleasure!

Chapter 2 smut hyperlink will be added when I release it Ɛ>

As always minors DNI.| 6.3K words

[F/n] and Mammon's relationship is unique.

He was her boss, and she was his secretary.

Running the errands, info graphing, and scheduling his business appointments when due. But it wasn't so simple.

With his artificially friendly attitude in public, behind the scenes he was nothing but cynical— snarky and demanding. Hardly surprising for the king of greed.

[F/n] was no fan, she made it clear.

Despite the lethal glares and threats she managed to shoot a quip or a snark in return each time. It initially prompted a warning hiss or a growl, an insult or a threat.

Then he resorted to shredding through his confined costume to intimidate her one time after they both seriously got into it. Neither party was satisfied in not having the last word.

Despite however many threats were hurled nothing ever came about them.

[F/n] desired the experience the job gave her and Mammon found her too entertaining to simply let go.

[F/n] and Mammon's relationship is undeniably unique.

But damn, there was no shying away from the fact [F/n] did her job exceptionally well. The best in all of Hell. And that's another one of the handful of reasons why he tolerated her.

"Y'er getting on my nerves lizard." Mammon seethes with a false smile.

He sulks leaning away, poisonous puff of green air seeping though his teeth.

[F/n] raises a brow at him, eye roll following. "I need you to work with me here, asshole." [F/n] adjusted herself, turning towards him.

"If you wanna reduce the immediate damage Asmodeus and his little lapdog made we need to start advertising the twins asap. What's bothering you right now?"

Mammon huffed. "The leftover Fizz merch— sales are declining incase ya' haven't seen mate. I'm losin' money."

[F/n] clicked her tongue.

"Whatever doesn't sell now we can resell in a few weeks as vintage or some other bullshit with a higher price tag. You have any idea how much these loser collectors will pay to get their hands on discontinued merchandise?"

That's all it took for Mammon to light up, snatching [F/n] with his top hands in excitement.

"Y'er a bloody GENIOUS!" He shakes her, dropping her instantaneously. "We could double —no— TRIPLE our profits thanks to these degenerates! Ahh I taught ya' so bloody well!"

Mammon splays his hands towards the imaginary dollar signs in the air, clapping eagerly.

"And that's why I love ya' doll!" He shouts with a hefty grin, giving her a final charmed glance as he turned to make way towards the awaiting camera crew. Robo-Fizzies chasing after him with lighting sticks and microphones.

[F/n] catches herself after his stare, the spines on her tail rattling flustered. Her posture eases before anyone else can see as she flicks her tail in response.

Damn did she hate whenever he said things like that.

It's almost as if he knew the effect he had on her, doing and saying things that would purposefully rile her up. [F/n] refused to acknowledge any part of it, counteractive to the very obvious blush on her completion.

Through the commotion, Mammon smiled charismatically in [F/n]'s direction as their eyes met again. This was going to be a long shoot.

"That went better than I expected." [F/n] mumbles. Mammon appearing in a green cloud next to her. Bells chiming happily.

"Why'dya say that? Doubted me?" He rung.

"Well for all the years I've known you— Accepting you got fucked is definitely not something you're known for... You're taking losing your star clown better than I thought."

Mammon chuckles in amusement.

"Star clown? I am the star clown. With or without him I'll still make a fuck ton o' money." He nudges her. "With y'er— uh, our ideas and my reinforcement I don't see any issue mate."

[F/n] looked very, very, unconvinced. Mammon thinks for a moment before shrugging.

"At the end of the day you are my most valuable asset after all."

"What a way to make a girl feel special Ammo." Her eyes roll.

Mammon only giggled for a moment, attention immediately stolen upon taking in a familiar scent.

The smell of coffee meets his nose as they walk before the café in his estate. It takes him no time to decide he's in the mood for another cup of coffee.

[F/n] could already tell by the expression on his face. However unconvinced about giving the bug even more caffeine after his last.

Mammon playfully puts on a puppy-eyed expression as he bends town to her level.

He shoves his face in front of hers, frowning, the green glow of his pupils becoming brighter. "C'mon doll, ya'd say no to my lil 'ol face?"

His smaller spider eyes make a show as he frowns with an exaggerated pointed lip.

She sighs, gently pushing his face away. "Enough with the eyes. I'll be right back... Not like you'd let me say no anyways asshole."

Like a cat that ate the canary, Mammon smiles triumphantly as he took a moment to get seated on one of the empty tables outside the shop.

He enjoys the smell of coffee beans while searching in her direction through the large glass windows. He watches her make some hand motions towards the menu.

Letting out a big yawn, he blinks blearily. He could use a nap after all this.

Exploiting his employees was hard work after all.

Mammon observes her pull out her wallet, swiping her card. His smile becomes gentler, enamored at the idea of her willingness to spend her own money on him.

He became increasingly aware the expression he wore, quickly clearing his throat to look more serious.

It takes the café worker a second to hand her the single cup of coffee alongside a paper bag. He waves her goodbye with a bold wink, [F/n] unable to hold her laugh.

Mammon gritted his teeth. He conditioned his employees not to unnecessarily pester him, or her, especially when they were out together. Seems like one of them hadn't learned this yet. He took a mental note.

He was about to get up from his seat until [F/n] audibly shut the door behind her with a small jingle. She takes a seat across from him as he leaned forward and snatched the drink from her hand.

"'Bout fuckin' time cunt." He grumbles.

Mammon takes a sip of the cold coffee, ignoring his irritation as the sweet contents hit his tongue.

Or at least he tried to, the sweetness of it tasting rather dull part in due to his thoughts.

"Was this made by that fuckin' bogan?" He wonders.

His hand tenses, squeezing the drink at his palm slightly.

"I got you this." [F/n] mumbled, scooting the bag towards him.

Mammon snaps his attention towards back towards her, pausing to glance between her then the baggie before fishing through it. He pulls out a small box, opening it to reveal a cream colored pastry.

It takes him a moment to collect his thought.

Confused, he asks, "Why the cake, doll? Ya' know all I wanted was my coffee."

"You were feeling like shit earlier." She puts it simply.

Mammon shifted from the cake to her in his peripheral vision.

She was worried about him. Had him in her mind. Considerate about how he felt, albeit she wouldn't admit it out loud.

He couldn't help but grow a fat smile, genuine smile, as he scoots closer towards her.

"I'm starting to think ya' actually care about me, love." [F/n]'s eyes widen for a second.

She looks away from him, scoffing.

"Don't overthink it. I don't want to deal with you when you're in a mood."

Mammon takes a small bite, savoring the even sweeter taste. Humming with delight, he takes another portion of it with the plastic spoon, leaning forward to bring it to her mouth.

[F/n] glances between the cake and Mammon, who's unashamedly eagerly watching her.

"I-I don't—"

"Ahh don't fuckin' be like that mate. It's good, try it!"

The dragon takes a bite, flushed, as she ate the piece in silent agreement. Her tail sticking to her leg somewhat embarrassed.

He was right, the pastry was fluffy and flavorful. Not that she expected any different, that was the reason why she bought it for him. She would've never anticipated this however.

Another spoonful reaches her lips, she accepts it without complaint this time. Expression easing. Her tail wags behind her in satisfaction.

Mammon carefully scoops more, bringing it to her face once again.

[F/n] quickly swallows the bit already in her mouth, shaking her head this time.

"I bought it for you, I'm eating more of it than you are. You're being a little bit too charitable."

"Yeah but who's to say I'm not getting anythin' out of feeding ya', love?" He dotes.

[F/n] felt the tips of her ears warm, tail flicking.

Mammon soaks in her flush, turning to take another sip of his coffee. His eyes follow the direction of his lips for a glance before returning at her image.

He freezes for a moment, brows furrowing. Mammon checks the cup again to ensure he saw it correctly. [F/n] immediately notices his expression drop and leans over to see the source.

A phone number was written just under her name with a heart.

"Aw how cute!"

Mammon gags. "Cute?!"

"Yeah, first time someone has done that for me. It's kinda sweet!" [F/n] reaches for the cup, Mammon hisses as he holds it further away.

"Doll, there's no bloody way you're actually interested in this cunt. He's some fuckin' nobody workin' below minimum wage!"

"Oh please, you sound jealous, he was really n—!"

Mammon immediately crushes the cup in his grip, indifferent feeling the coffee spill onto his glove and trickle to the table. He reaches over to grab [F/n]'s extended hand to move it away as he leans towards her features.

His face was centimeters away from hers, sharp breath tickling her features.

"I ain't the sharing type." Mammon growled.

The cup gets engulfed in a green cloud, vanishing as the smoke dissipated. [F/n] glared at the spider, brows furrowed in uncertainty.

He was acting like this again.

"Fucking hell, I didn't want any of your coffee. I just wanted to see the goddamn number."

Mammon blinks, head tilting. He mutters something under his breath as he stands, breaking eye contact.

She thought he was upset over sharing a drink? Far from it, but he wasn't going to clarify if that's the conclusion she came to.

Still holding onto her hand, he strings her up as he gets out of his seat.

"Better ya' don't. This cunt wouldn't even be able to take care of ya'." [F/n] rolls her eyes. Though it didn't go unnoticed, as Mammon grimaced.

"It's impossible to find anyone at all when you scare everyone off." She growls lowly.

"Don't fuckin' hiss at me doll. I'm savin' ya from the embarrassment."

"The embarrassment of what exactly?"

"Of goin' out with the lower class, hells y're considered a knight for the Goetia ain't ya'? Y're not gonna get anythin' worthwhile in some random mutt."

[F/n] swats her tail very irritably, yanking her wrist back forcefully.

A loud tear following in the process.

"I can be with whoever the fuck I want and feel like, I'm not some goddamn princess."

Mammon looks at his glove, seeing as the motion of her pull had tore through the material. It was a reminder of how sharp her scales were.

It wasn't deep enough to cut his actual skin. But the damage on his glove was done. A rush of anger at her defiance.

He sneers, looking between the café and her short figure. A cloud of green exits through his teeth as he grips her by the neck, lifting her effortlessly to his face.

[F/n] grabs his wrists, squeezing equally as hard, as her wings flutter behind her to give herself some leverage and room to breathe.

She looks genuinely shocked for a moment, though it only took a second for her to regain composure to glare at the sin with bared teeth. Scales began to form on her complexion.

Mammon stares deeply into her eyes with a menacing smile. His miniature eyes emitting a soft glow.

"REMEMBER Y'R PLACE BENEATH ME BEFORE I REMIND YA'."

He let's her go, watching as she wobbly lands on her feet.

I gust of wind hits his face as she flapped her wings to soften the fall. The scales that covered her face immediately erase as the tension breaks with a longer sharp inhale of air.

They had instantly gained the attention of everyone around them if they hadn't already, silence deafening.

[F/n] felt humiliated. Hurt. Used.

Defeated, for once.

"I don't fuckin' pay ya to run 'round with y'r bitch hormones. I hired ya' to serve me and me only."

[F/n] bites her lower lip, her claw reaching up to feel where his met her throat.

That was the first time he'd ever grabbed her like that. Sure he'd scream and threaten her before, even swung at her at times however each time he did so slow enough to miss.

He'd chuck random items in reach sometimes knowing she could just dodge or fly out of the way.

It never crossed further than that.

Now to be grabbed by the neck? That was new.

The trace of his hand lingered warningly as she tried to sooth over her bruised skin.

She looked up at him, tail tucked in between her legs.

He would only ever harm people he saw replaceable. His subordinates. The realization came crashing down on her incredibly hard.

He could've just as easily killed her in that moment, snapped her neck and that would've been it.

Did their history mean nothing to him?

What changed?

"Fuck you..." It came as a whisper.

Unsure of whether he heard that or not, he chose to ignore it either way in favor of her tail.

He pointed at it, releasing a laugh as if it was the most amusing thing he'd seen.

It felt nauseating. One moment he was warm: the next, cruel.

Despite all the time spent, she concluded he never saw her as anything further than another form of entertainment.

An animal he can poke and prod for a reaction. Even in her state of shock all he did was laugh. The sound echoed in her head.

A familiar tone rings, buzzing. And Mammon instantly snaps out of his laughter.

He fishes through his pocket to pick up his phone.

His alarm was going off.

"Ahh fuckin' bitch— meeting is about to start." He groans, recovering quickly.

"C'mere." He demands, forgiving the glare she shot at him as he pulled her arm so forcefully she knew she'd bruise.

Mammon teleports the two of them into his office.

The jiggles of coins chime as he lands into his web, [F/n] perched beside him.

Her eyes widen slightly, trying to adjust herself in a better position. She tugs on one of her wings stuck into the webbing with an irritated scowl. He quickly removed the damaged glove and snaps a new one in its place out of thin air.

Mammon, who's busy with a drumstick he seemingly pulled from nowhere, nonchalantly untangles her wing in a simple swipe.

He stops chewing for a second to give her a toothy smirk: [F/n] returning a huff.

"Oh come off it will ya', ya' bitch?"

"We need to talk."

Mammon, who doesn't give it any thought, takes another bite of his food.

"More bitchin'." He imagines.

"Some other time."

[F/n] looks away from him, curling her tail around her leg to try and provide some sort of self comfort. She felt disappointed.

Despite all the breakthroughs made in their partnership, he still treated her like an object. His object. Something he was free to do whatever he wanted to. Truth be told, it stung deeply.

It was the only thing she could think about lately.

There was no denying Mammon grew incredibly on her, she only wished he felt the same in return. Maybe then he wouldn't be so needlessly mean.

Was it something she did? Something she didn't do?

There was no point in even thinking about it, [F/n] didn't want to be embarrassed again. She refused.

Security open the doors of his office, and in come a small group of incubi.

The one leading the group takes a quick bow before the two, tipping his hat while smiling on his way up.

Both watch as they fill the room, trotting with some briefcases in hand. The thumps of their boots semi-absorbed into the carpet they walked on.

"What an honor to see Mammon and his little butterfly, even more so present our wonderful idea to." He starts, slowly pacing left and right.

"We all know about the massive, massive, slaughter that came of the drakon specie during the first war with heaven. Terrible thing really." He smirks.

[F/n] raises her brow, crossing her arms further.

"A bigger shame would be to allow the fun of them go." The incubus pulls out his phone to project a screen before them.

[F/n] and Mammon look less than impressed.

"I present to you the dragon dildo, made with real dragon scales! The synthetic crap can't compare to this." He chuckles, arms extended either way.

The incubi look impressed by their own work. "Dragon scales are the hardest material in all of hell. This thing would be fucking indestructible! It's every horny sinner's dream!"

Mammon yawns, waving a finger.

"And how exactly are ya' going to farm real scales? There's hardly a handful of drakons in all o' hell left mate n' the survivors are all considered royalty."

"Well my good sir, that's where we were hoping you would come in. Seeing as you already possess one of them. I'm sure the king of greed wouldn't mind parting with it in turn for a greater profit."

[F/n] leans out of her seat, seething at the disrespectful implication. "Are you stupid or suicidal?"

The incubus hands one of his partners the briefcase, who held it sideways.

"Oh but my dear, you are very valuable. Your title as knight is only a benefit you see. You can be a brand on its own with how infamous your status was."

He starts unclipping the handles of the case.

"My title was granted to me because of how efficient I was in fighting angels. You— I'd MOP the floor with you."

Mammon tugs her back onto his side. His expression doesn't say much, however, the hand planted around her thigh possessively said it all.

"Y're gonna die for wastin' my time." He snarls, grinning wildly.

Mammon snaps his fingers and in rushes his security of robot Fizzarollis.

[F/n] felt him squeeze her thigh as he presses her deeper into his side. Her initial anger melting as her heart beats faster in reaction. [F/n] stares up at him, his image burning into her mind.

Her hand rested on his chest— able to feel his warmth, his breathing, it felt too intimate.

She felt his heartbeat at her fingertips, beating a tad bit faster than usual.

Then, she remembered. She thought his claim over her was nothing more than superficial, for looks, all this to keep her obedient and lull her back into his claws until the next time she slightly agitated him.

She looks back at the group, frowning.

"Shame, really. I was hoping you'd cooperate for your sake." The incubi frowns.

He opens his briefcase, incubi's devilish smile doesn't go unnoticed.

[F/n], unable to say anything in time, connects two and two as a familiar glint reflects off the metal brandished.

Breaking out of Mammon's grasp, she straddles him and extends her wings— covering as much of him as she possibly could.

A glowing bullet hits [F/n] directly the bend of her wing, the jolt of pain sucking the wind out of her as she slips onto Mammon's stomach.

The incubi's angelic revolver smokes at the barrel.

Security tackles the gunman.

They struggle to get each of his henchmen into cuffs, but with increasing numbers it quickly becomes apparent the gunman along with his goons has no chance.

Mammon immediately moves to shield [F/n] with his body, placing her onto the web. They both look at wound, [F/n] hissing as she tries to stretch her injured wing.

"Fuck— A-Are ya' alright? I didn't think..."

"I'm fine Ammo, he just nailed my joint. That's it." She interrupted, groaning.

His face turns between her injury and her expression several times. He looked worried. His eyes glossed.

[F/n] frowns.

Electricity flies off of Mammon, turning to look at the commotion behind him. Panic quickly turns into rage as he bursts out of his confined costume with a deafening yell.

The room fills with green.

Sounds of screaming immediately follow.

Mammon smashes some of the incubi into the floor, completely crushed under his weight. He makes sure to smear them in, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he does so.

Those unfortunate enough not to cease on impact were left wailing in agony: taking a fistful of the carpet in a hopeless attempt to pull themselves away with a gaping hole going through their back to their stomach..

It was messy.

The blood from their bodies popped similarly to that of water-balloons. It was a gross, alleviating sight. [F/n] could take comfort knowing sinners like these wouldn't be able to come after her again.

After having his fun, Mammon darts his head towards the remaining incubus.

His mini spider eyes radiated a toxic green as he slinked over. The two robo-fizzies who had captured him meekly raised him towards Mammon: who instantly snatches the man and brings him towards his eye level.

"PLEASE N—"

"B̴͍͚̀E̴̯̘̊G̴͈͍͝ ̸̯̩̌F̸͖̗̈́Ò̸͉́Ṛ̶̪͆ ̶͓̑͒Y̷̥͌͂Ŏ̴̖̩̒U̷̲̳͆͌Ṙ̶̟̂ ̸̦͓͂L̶͍̺̈́Ḯ̸̬F̶̨͓͋̅E̵̩̦̋."

Before even giving him the chance, his please come strangled into whispers as Mammon squeezes him in his fist.

He exhales a large green cloud onto his pitiful expression as he attempts to gasp for air, coughing violently in response. A crack erupts.

Mammon drops him to the floor, watching as he contorted with a deafening scream. Observing him cry for a moment: he does the same as he dealt with the ones previously, popping him like an unwanted pimple.

His breathing labored, the high coming down upon realizing he was the last of the group.

Mammon raises one of his bloodied spider legs out of a fresh carcass, inspecting it, grumbling something under his breath.

The security group of robo-fizzies seem unsure on how to proceed, each of them timidly watching awaiting orders.

"The fuck are ya' looking at? Get this cleaned up NOW!" He roared.

The robots scrambled, tumbling over each other as they struggled to organize themselves.

Mammon slinks back towards [F/n], expression instantly softening.

She lets out a whine, yanking out the glowing particle as the pain of it courses through her back. "Gods fuck that hurt..." [F/n] bit her tongue, aimlessly tossing the bullet at the floor.

"Shit, let's go get ya' patched up beautiful." He mumbles, taking her carefully into his arms as if she'd shatter entirely at the slightest bump.

"Fucking— OW!"

"Ahh can ya' fuckin' hold still for a minute mate!?"

Mammon quickly wraps a thick webbing around her wing, using a splint to keep it straight in place.

[F/n] squirms, suppressing the acid-ball forming at her throat. Mammon makes his final wrap as he sticks the web onto itself, hands gently caressing her wing.

He sighs.

Neither of them say anything for a moment. The silence deafening as the reality of the situation sinks in.

He frowns, gently letting go of his work.

Moving to cup her cheek as he turns her expression towards him even gentler, afraid he would somehow shatter her.

"Why the face? What's the matter beautiful?"

There it was, again, the rapid beating of her heart over his artificial pet names.

"Nothing. Just... I can't fucking believe I got shot right in the elbow." She mumbles, sparing a glance at his handiwork on her wing.

"Normally my scales are able to tank angelic bullets... Maybe I'm becoming weak." [F/n] sighed.

"I, uh, well ya'know... That bullet would'a sent me to the bloody hospital. Cunt aimed for my head." Mammon swallows.

He drags a finger under the fabric of his neck, pulling on it momentarily.

"And honestly... I think y're the only bloody demon crazy enough who'd ever do anything like that for me."

He strokes the webbing gingerly, feeling the material brush against the rest of her scales. He paused.

Mammon tenses slightly as he rehearsed his next sentence in his mind dozens of times, feeling awkward as the very unfamiliar phrase leaves his tongue.

"So —uh— I appreciate ya' more than ya' think..."

It falls silent as her face hues.

Though it doesn't bother him remotely, continuing to massage around the bend of her wing.

If only he were consistently like this. Then it would make the signs so much more visible.

Visible he actually wanted her.

[F/n] swallows thickly, doing her best to calm the trot in her chest. She knew despite everything if she could go back in time she wouldn't change the outcome of it.

Even in the chaos of it all she cared too deeply about him to imagine him hurt. With that, the wave of knowing she completely lost to him finally came crashing down on her.

Their game of chess was finally concluded, he won, and that's why she needed to get out.

"Mammon we really need to talk."

Her wing pulls away from his petting, curling back into its usual space. He seemed disappointed as the warmth of her injured limb left his grasp.

"What about?"

Her lips quiver, the frown on her expression breaking through the poker face she tried to maintain. Her eyes water, tail curling.

She thinks of all of their mishaps together. To when she first agreed to work with him, their first banter, their first success together, how they progressively got more and more comfortable with each other.

She went from someone behind the scenes to being his only companion. He was a hothead, but so was she. But their differences felt too great: the hot and cold treatment was driving her crazy.

"We need to end our contract."

Mammon blinked. Frozen.

He slowly clenches his fists impossibly hard.

"Why? Was it because o' that fuckin' incubus? Y-Ya' watched me kill 'em. I promise next time I—"

"It's not that. None of that."

"Then what is it? Fuck changed?"

"Mammon as much as I love being here with you and working alongside you, I just can't be around you anymore."

It was obvious he didn't understand, his pause with unsure searching eyes sought to try and read the static expression she did her best to maintain.

"I'm sorry."

Mammon felt himself burn. He felt his insides ignite with such intense desperation with a feeling he didn't entirely recognize.

Even knowing her more basic tasks could be given to someone else to fill just as easily did nothing to reassure him.

Hells he didn't feel this lost when Fizz quit his position. He got over that so insanely fast. It was deeper than that.

This was the only person he remotely cared about in all of hell resigning.

The idea felt so unreal.

"I'm so sorry." [F/n] repeated.

The click of her boots echo as she walked towards the double doors of his bedroom. Like a whisper, she faded.

Mammon watches as her tail hovers just above the ground. Immediately noting how she didn't just drag it as she normally would. The low rattle it'd make was erased, as if she wanted to create the least bit of noise possible.

Why? Did he scare her?

Nonsense. She was the only one who wouldn't cave to his ridiculous disrespect despite his threats. And though it did get in his nerves initially, it grew on him and made everything in his life new again.

He enjoyed hearing her voice.

Hearing her talk about frivolous, nonsensical, shit. Enjoyed observing the smallest things about her.

Like the way she would hide the joy in her expression but unable to maintain the same façade in her eagerly wagging tail.

Or the way her wings would flutter for a second whenever she was blushing.

Or when she would get too excited her hair would pulse the color of her element. And how whenever she's extremely upset her clear complexion starts forming scales as if she were ready to morph.

Or how she sometimes has difficulty not tearing clothes due to the sharpness of her claws. She would always let out a loud groan and a few swears before deciding if it were salvageable.

He felt electricity course through his body. His eyelid twitching.

[F/n] hugged herself, shutting the door behind her as she power walked through his manor.

She used her sleeve to wipe away the tears before they could spill. Quietly whimpering to herself to alleviate the ache in her chest.

She doesn't get very far however, before snapping out of her emotions as a loud bang interrupts her.

[F/n] points her gaze backwards, watching the doors fly open while cracking at the force of his push.

"OUR CONVO AIN'T OVER!"

She backs up hesitantly as Mammon runs at her. The thumping of his soles grew louder, seemingly indifferent at the idea he may trample her.

Clouds of swamp green smoke exit through his teeth. He halts just before her, punching a hole through the wall next to them to release his rage. Chips of brick and dust recoil along with his fist.

"You— YA' THINK YA' CAN JUST JOG OFF?" He growled, leaning down as he stared at her.

"Whatever idea ya got in that pretty lil' head o' yours, toss it. I won't break our contract. You are MINE."

[F/n] sighed, eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head at him.

"You don't get it." Her disbelief erases as her head comes to point towards his.

She snaps her fingers and out manifests a golden sheet between them with both their signatures held within the bottom.

"It's written agreement in our contact that only requires the consent of one party to break it."

Mammon felt a drop of sweat come down his neck.

He froze. The pain grew.

And she was right, the section she was referring to glowed faintly among the rest of the text as she highlighted it. Demanifesting as she withdrew her hand.

"A rule you imposed since you were initially skeptical about my performance in your estate."

"I- I... Fuckin'..."

It goes silent.

The rush of anger evaporated from his body with the sparks. Feeling at a loss on what to say, Mammon swallows thickly as he blinks.

He reaches a hand to clutch the material over his chest, squeezing it.

His gaze eventually trails back to hers.

His mind returns to the thought of massive their height difference was. She was so small compared to him. It made his heart chirp. His hand comes up to erase the flustered look looming on his features.

Mammon recollects himself as best he can in a pathetic attempt. He brushes his hat shakily, the bells chiming as the material bounced back.

"So then tell me why—?"

[F/n] growls, pressing her claws into her palm.

"STOP!" She shouts at him, quickly wiping away at the corner of her eyes. "D-Don't make this needlessly complicated."

Again with the tears, only this time she couldn't prevent them.

Mammon frowned, reaching out to her. He wanted to console her, wipe away those tears. It pained him knowing he was the source.

The tip of his index finger brushed against her cheek unable to get far.

[F/n] swatted away his hand. And that hurt him.

"You fucking... g-goddamnit you fucking dumbass... Can't you see what's going on?" She hissed stomping a few steps away from him.

"I fell so hard for you, and it fucking blows because I can't just have you." She turned towards him.

[F/n] gestures to herself angrily through her cries. "Do you fucking get it now?! I'm in LOVE with you— that's why I need to get the hell away from you. I want to be something more to you but you'll only ever see me as your subordinate."

She shouted, adrenaline coursing through only heighted by her emotional outburst.

Mammon grabs her despite her struggling with his lower pair of hands, leaning over and forcing her to allow him to clean her face.

He absorbs her tears through the material of his upper pair of gloves with gentle strokes.

She grips his wrists with enough force that'd dislocate them if he were any other sinner. He felt her tremble against him.

How could he not notice her pain before?

How long ago did she start feeling this way?

There was a pool of regrets swimming in his chest and among them the biggest was not erasing her doubts sooner.

"What fuckin' nonsense have ya' been telling y'reself this entire time? I'm smitten with ya' dollface."

"You're a king sin— hell you outed Asmodeus for dating someone beneath him, how am I any different from that? People would think you're a hypocrite."

"Ya' think I give a remote fuck about what these cunts think? I'm the richest fucker in all o' hell, I didn't get here caring about what some bitch thinks o' me. I don't really give a flying shit about Asmodeus fuckin' some circus imp."

[F/n] immediately becomes less resistant to his advance. [E/c] eyes staring up at him in disbelief.

She searched desperately for any indication he was lying.

Mammon cups her jawline.

"I dunno how ya' haven't realized how obsessed I am with ya'... Thought it was reaaal obvious: I mean for fuck's sake I don't wanna be anywhere without ya'. Everything I do is with you." Mammon sighed nervously.

He lifted her in her arms, bringing down his face to gently set his forehead onto hers.

He didn't entirely recognize it before, but now that the cat was out of the bag it was so painfully apparent.

Everything he did was by her, to her, and for her. He found himself more temperamental and bored in the situations he had to exist without her. The cogs in his head finally spun, blushing for a mere moment as he finally admitted it out loud.

"I'm obsessed with ya princess. I'm fuckin' crazy over you."

If her heart pounded any faster she was sure she'd pass out.

Her eyes glued to the tiny white slits in the sea of bright green within his eyes.

They both glance down at each other's lips then back at their gaze.

Immediately realizing what the other was doing, they both smash into each other desperately. Mammon felt a firework go off in his head. She was putty in his hands. A little butterfly caught in his web.

He growled.

[F/n] caresses his features, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks and pulling him closer.

A surge of electricity runs through his expression and tickles hers affectionately. It courses her hands and down her arms eagerly.

Mammon drags his bicolored tongue across her lips, pushing himself in at the slightest gap.

Their tongues dance and with no protest Mammon explores his new territory. Their teeth clatter, Mammon doing his best not to pierce her.

The taste of coffee and pastries still lingered strongly on his saliva. Their tongues dance, aching. It's as if they couldn't get close enough to one another, both feverishly pushing into each other craving every bit of contact the other could provide.

Pleased with her submission, he makes way back into his room.

Massaging her ass with his upper pair of hands and grabbing onto her heels with the other. [F/n] releases a muffled moan.

Mammon breaks the kiss first, glancing at the spirit trail that still connected them. He licks the drool from his lips, savoring their long overdue tension-breaker.

He steals a few more pecks before taking a seat on his bed, holding onto her. He brushed a strand of her [h/c] hair out of her face.

Mammon chuckled softly, enamored with the bright hue on her complexion: gaze hungry.

Mammon stares at her. Unmoving. As his breathing very audibly becomes heavier.

It takes him a painful few seconds to snap out of his own trance.

"As much as I wanna fold ya' in my bed and have ya' take care of my stiffy— y're injured and need to rest princess."

"Oh come the fuck on Ammo, I'm fine!" [F/n] pouts, huffing while trying to feel him up through his clothes.

She slinks downwards to attempt and grind against the growing tent underneath his layers of clothes to entice him.

Mammon with every bit of self control in his body, has none of it, interwinding her hands into his instead with force as he pulls her back up to steal another peck.

"I love y're excitement but I will hurt you."

"You're no fun."

"You'll fuckin' get what you want later... Needy whore."

He scoots closer into bed.

Mammon snaps his fingers. A puff of green surround both of them, clearing quickly to reveal he had changed them into their sleepwear. He smiles softly.

His blanket flies over them as he adjusts more comfortably, plopping [F/n] on his chest.

[F/n] coils into a ball, purring happily while nuzzling herself into the crook of his neck. She quickly settles. His hand reaches to pet her hair lovingly, listening patiently as her purring gradually became more distant overtime until she drifted off entirely.

Mammon sighed with satisfaction, captivated, only then closing his eyes. "Y're gonna stay mine forever."

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss mammon #mammon x reader #helluva boss #Helluva boss mammon x reader #Helluva boss x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #mammon x you #mammon x y/n #mammon helluva boss #mammon apologist

104 notes · View notes

sapphire-writes · 1 year

Text

Thin Ice (modern!HOTD series)

pairing: Aegon x Reader & Cregan Stark x Reader

summary: Aegon Targaryen is a hockey-playing, party-loving, self-centered player. You've sworn off guys like that. But fate intervenes and suddenly you're thrown into a partnership with him, a quid pro quo of sorts.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: 18+ series (language, mentions of sex, sex toys), college AU, hockey AU

note: here it is my loves! I can't wait to see what you think 😘

series masterlist

Ch. 1: The Deal next chapter >

You swore to yourself you were done hooking up with athletes. You’re doing pretty well so far, a month into the fall semester, and still painfully celibate. And it wasn’t easy, especially when your toxic ex-friend with benefits kept blowing up your phone.

During your freshman year at King’s Landing University, you had a fling with Jason Lannister, a lacrosse-playing, business major who had you in tears more times than he ever managed to make you come. It was a very long semester.

The asshole still had the nerve to hit you up every now and then via text.

“Look at this,” you say, shoving your phone in Sara’s face.

The brunette glances up at you, stopping mid-bite of her panini, eyes widening at the messages. You’re sitting at your usual table for lunch at the north campus dining hall with Sara Snow and Helaena Targaryen, two of your best friends. It’s make your own panini day on Tuesdays, something Sara insists can never be missed.

“Block him,” she says swallowing, as you flip your phone upside down on the table.

Helaena nods her head, agreeing with Sara, not looking up from the biology notes she’s scrambling to complete before her class.

“He didn’t even add a question mark,” you continue, “I’m not even worth proper punctuation.”

Sara snickers at that, taking a sip from her drink as you lean forward, head in your hands. Helaena and Sara lock eyes as you do so, sharing a knowing look between them.

“He’s so annoying,” you groan, rubbing your temples.

“Who is?” Baela asks as she arrives, plopping into the seat to your right.

“Jay Lannister,” Sara tells her, and Baela glares at you.

“Do not fuck him,” Baela warns fire in her violet eyes, pointing her finger at you to emphasize her words.

Your mouth drops open in shock. She’s always calling you out, Baela can read you like a book.

“I’m not going to!” you tell her, but Baela shakes her head.

“You are a horny bitch,” Baela says, still pointing, “get a vibrator, get a dildo please-”

“Baela, oh my god we’re in public,” you tell her, moving to cover her mouth.

She swats your hand away.

“Do you think I care?” she says, smiling.

“You’re the worst and I hate you,” you tell her, “and I love you, please keep reality-checking me.”

“That’s a lot of feelings,” Sara comments.

“What do I do about Jason, seriously?” you ask once more.

“Block him!” is the unanimous response.

You sigh, but open your phone, deleting the text and blocking his contact. You hold the phone out to your friends, showing your dirty work.

“There? Happy?” you tell them.

“I am,” Baela says, and Sara and Helaena nod in agreement.

“You just need someone new to get under,” Sara comments, “and it’s the best time of year to do so.”

You blink at your best friend.

“I don’t follow.”

Sara sighs, as though you should know exactly what she’s talking about.

“Cuffing season?” she says, earning a blank stare.

Her eyes glance behind you, a smirk coming on her lips.

“And more importantly,” she says, head tilting to the side, tongue between her teeth, “hockey season.”

You turn in your seat, watching as the boys' hockey team enters the dining hall. Clearly, they’ve come from practice, all half-dressed, all freshly showered messes of men with shaggy hair framing their faces. They all sit together, like a pack of wolves, at the same table. Team bonding at its finest.

“Gods do I love a hockey flow,” Sara groans, biting her lip.

From October to April, the King’s Landing Knights own the ice. They own the entire college campus if you’re being completely honest. Most of the team lives together, throwing exclusive parties throughout the season at the so-called hockey house.

Sara hums in appreciation, watching as Jace Velaryon brushes some damp hair from his face, t-shirt riding up to expose his midriff. You can’t see her face, but you know Sara looks like she’s ready to sink her teeth into him. You know Jace from class, he’s a nice guy. Sara would be the death of him.

You turn back toward your friends.

“Is this why we came to north campus?” you ask and Sara shrugs.

“It’s an added bonus to panini day,” she tells you, earning a laugh from Helaena.

“I told you, I’m done with college athletes,” you tell them, “they’re all the same. No offense, Hel.”

You nod to Helaena who simply shrugs. Her brother Aegon plays hockey after all.

“No, you should speak your truth,” Helaena encourages.

Sara opens her mouth in shock, eyebrows knitting together as she brings a hand to her throat clutching imaginary pearls.

“Don’t talk about my Jacaerys that way!”

You laugh, nearly snorting your drink out through your nose.

“Your Jacaerys?” you ask through a laugh.

Though you suppose Jace should be exempt from the athlete slander.

“Well not mine yet, but soon,” she tells you, causing Helaena to raise an eyebrow.

“You’re going to bang my cousin?” Hel asks and Sara shrugs.

“It’s not my fault your entire family tree goes here,” Sara argues, causing Helaena to laugh.

“They've got a game this week. Come with me!” Sara begs, taking your hand in hers, “We’ll score invites to the afterparty at the hockey house!”

You tilt your head at Sara giving her an incredulous look, before turning to Baela and Helaena.

“It’s like she’s tuning me out on purpose,” you tell them, eliciting laughter.

“I am,” Sara agrees, “you need to get laid. Hard. Bed and bred, if you will.”

You choke on your drink again. A group of your peers at a nearby table glance in your direction and you’re sure they’ve heard Sara.

“Bred!?”

“Chill, you’re on birth control!”

“Not everyone has a breeding kink, Sara!”

“Don’t you kink shame me in this sacred dining hall-”

As soon as the words leave Sara’s lips, Rhaena arrives at the table, backpack slung over her shoulders, eyebrows knitting together.

“What did I just walk into?” she asks.

You turn in your seat, grabbing her hand.

“Save yourself,” you tell her dramatically, “it’s too late for us but there’s still hope for you.”

“Why are we talking about kink shaming at lunch?” Rhaena asks, sitting down.

Sara leans forward as though sharing a secret.

“Because I should be the one shaming our dear nerdy love here for not exploring her own,” Sara informs her, “Y/N doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.”

“I don’t need to get laid,” you inform them, pointing at Baela, “as Bae said, I am simply going to use my vibrator more often.”

“You need a human dick,” Sara scolds, “or else you’ll be fantasizing about Jason the whole time you buzz buzz.”

Your friends know you too well.

“I can’t even fantasize?” you ask pouting.

“I literally can’t with you,” Baela says, rolling her eyes, “Jason is a douche.”

“He once made you throw up from crying so hard,” Sara scolds, trying to bring you back to reality.

“He made you pay for takeout and didn’t order you any,” Helaena adds.

“He told you his-”

“Okay! Okay, I get it!” you tell them.

You know they’re right. But Jason is the friends-with-benefits situation you feel like you can’t let go of. Even though he was such an asshole to you.

“But if I’m getting a guy, I want someone sweet, someone nice, and loyal,” you tell your friends, setting some ground rules.

“You’re describing a dog,” Baela tells you, but Sara nods in agreement with you.

She bites her lip in encouragement. The conversation is going in her favor.

“Someone who can dick you down, degrade you a little, explore some hidden parts of your sexual psyche,” she adds, wiggling her fingers.

“Someone-”

“Someone like him,” Rhaena says, nodding back toward the hockey players.

You all turn, watching as someone joins the team. Your eyes widen watching him strut over to where the rest of his teammates sit. He’s big, totally jacked, with shaggy brown hair that matches the color of his closely shaved beard, despite a small patch that appears more auburn than brown.

His eyes are warm, the color of melted chocolate. He grins wolfishly taking his seat. Even though he’s wearing sweats you can tell his thighs are massive, matching the bulging biceps on display as he stretches. You let your eyes wander to another bulge you’re interested in, thoughts turning to mush in your head.

“Yeah,” you say, watching as he sits with the rest of the team.

“You know why his beard is like that, right?” Sara asks, eyes sparkling.

“Huh?”

“From eating too much pussy.”

“Sara!”

“What?”

“That’s Cregan Stark,” Baela answers the unspoken question in the room.

Sara claps her hands excitedly.

“I know him, I saw his name on the online roster,” Sara says, “he’s 6’3, plays goalie, loves dogs-”

“You’ve been studying the hockey roster?” Rhaena asks, laughing.

Sara nods enthusiastically.

“He’s a political science major,” Baela adds, “Cregan’s nice, I’ve had a couple of classes with him. Cool dude. Used to date Aly but I heard they broke up.”

“Which one?” you ask for clarification.

“Aly with a Y, not Ali with an I,” Baela adds, making the clarification between Alysanne Blackwood and Aliandra Martell.

“This is it,” Sara tells you, her face serious, “he’s the one.”

You look at Cregan again and watch him laugh as Jace says something. You find yourself smiling watching them talk, watching Cregan’s smile light up his whole face.

“And look! They’re besties too, it's perfect,” Sara says, gasping and making a pouty face.

“When is the game?” you ask, and Sara cheers.

“I’ll find out the details,” she says, smiling.

It’s a Tuesday, and you only have one afternoon class, thank the gods. Philosophy. Not the worst, not one of your all-time favorites. Luckily, being one of Helaena’s best friends meant access to her brother’s study guides. Aemond was seriously a philosophical genius.

You have no friends in this elective, so you sit toward the front and try not to doze off as your professor drones on about Kant and Decarte. Your phone buzzes on your desk and you glance at the text that appears.

“I have your papers from last week,” your professor says, holding a stack of papers in the air, “some of you impressed me,” he says beginning to hand them out, “others may need to stop by the academic resource center.”

Professor Orwylle stops in front of you placing your paper face down before smiling.

“Well done,” he murmurs, continuing around the room.

You turn the paper over revealing your perfect score. A shiver of pride rolls through you. Academic validation always feels so good.

“Fuck,” a deep voice says, causing you to turn.

Aegon Targaryen sits a few rows behind you, looking very displeased with the grade on his paper. You didn’t realize Aegon was in this class, though it's rather large to be fair, not your fault for not noticing him.

You have only spoken to Aegon a handful of times. Being friends with his sister and acquaintances with his brother, you’d bumped into him once or twice. He’s the eldest of his siblings, though they have an older half-sister they don’t really talk to.

Aegon is slumped in his seat, silver hair pushed off of his face. He looks like he just rolled out of bed, dressed in a clean white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. His eyes have dark circles underneath them, and two earrings dangle from his left earlobe.

He’s heartbreakingly handsome, truly the definition of a pretty boy with those pouty lips, dead violet eyes, and cherubic face. But he’s not your type. He’s a heartbreaker too, so you’ve heard, with a solid rotation of gorgeous girls on his arm.

Aegon Targaryen is a player.

Aegon Targaryen is a party boy.

Aegon Targaryen is an asshole. And you’ve sworn off guys like that.

“What’s good bro?” you hear Arryx Cargyll ask him as you turn back to face the front.

“This class is a fucking nightmare,” Aegon groans.

“I did alright,” Arryx tells him, smiling.

“Fuck you,” Aegon tells his friend, “why did I choose this elective.”

“Can’t your grandfather just donate more money? Get you out of it?” Arryx asks him, shoving his papers into his backpack.

“Yeah that’s not going to happen,” Aegon says shaking his head.

While Aemond and Helaena had no trouble getting into university, Aegon’s transcripts weren’t the best. He had a rough time during his teen years, in and out of programs. The only consistency was hockey, truly the only reason Aegon attended school at all. Even now. His grandfather spent a fortune donating to the school, funding the restoration of the library to have Aegon accepted.

“Don’t forget, the midterm exam is only 2 weeks away, if you haven’t started studying, you’re already behind,” your professor tells you, dismissing the class.

You gather your things, eager to leave the classroom. You text Sara as you leave the room, as Aegon remains seated.

“Mr. Targaryen,” Professor Orwylle says, beckoning him forward.

Aegon stands and makes his way toward the desk.

“I assume your wish is not to fail my class,” he asks as Aegon taps his foot nervously.

“Coach has already threatened to bench me,” Aegon tells him, “I need a good grade on this midterm or it’s fucking over for me-shit sorry- just over.”

Professor Orwyelle smiles tightly at him, a pitying look in his eye. Aegon’s had a lot of stress from home, he knows how hard this semester has been on him.

“Tell you what,” Orwylle says, “I suggest you reach out to one of your classmates, see if anyone can help you study, maybe do some tutoring. We can meet during my office hours, but I think you’ll need some additional support.”

Aegon nods, running a hand through his platinum hair.

“My brother took this class,” Aegon tells Orwyelle, who smiles remembering him, “he’ll have to help me.”

“I’m not helping you,” Aemond says, his voice soft, but firm in the library.

Aegon groans, earning several glares from nearby students trying to study. He drops into the seat across from Aemond.

“You’re a twat,” he whispers to his younger brother, “Aem, please, don’t make me beg.”

Aemond closes the book he’s reading, a massive historical textbook, before rubbing the scarred tissue above his eyebrow. Aegon watches him wince, unsure if Aemond’s eye is paining him or simply Aegon’s presence. The injury happened years ago that caused Aemond to lose his eye, their cousin is still in juvenile detention due to the incident.

“I can’t help you,” he tells Aegon, “I gave away all my study materials already.”

Aegon’s eyebrows furrow.

“To who?”

“One of Helaena’s friends.”

“Baela?”

“No.”

“Rhaena?”

“Nope.”

Helaena has so many friends they’re all blurring together. For an introverted STEM student, she’s quite popular.

“Who then?”

Aemond sighs at Aegon’s pestering, rubbing his eyes.

“Y/N,” he tells Aegon.

Aegon pauses for a moment, frowning. All the faces that Helaena surrounds herself with flash in his mind but he struggles to match a face to the name.

“Which one is that?”

Aemond glares at him.

“Aegon-”

“What? Helaena has a lot of friends,” Aegon argues.

“She came on the ski trip last year,” Aemond reminds him.

Oh.

He did remember you. The annual Targaryen family ski trip, Hel brought you along as her plus-one. Aegon remembered you in a skimpy little bathing suit at the ski lodge spending most of the day cooped up in the hot tub reading a book than actually skiing. Helaena had nearly plucked Aegon’s eyes from his skull. Cruel of her really, to bring along a hot friend and then demand Aegon leave her be.

“I know her,” Aegon says, “I didn’t realize she’s in my class.”

“You’re very unobservant,” Aemond comments, beginning to pack his things, “don’t bother her, she’s a nice girl.”

Aegon frowns, motioning to himself.

“And I’m not a nice guy?”

“Aegon.”

“I just need help with studying,” Aegon promises, “that’s all. Seriously, I cannot get benched this season. I can’t ask for another bailout.”

Aemond watches him closely.

“Helaena will kill you if you mess with one of her friends,” Aemond warns him.

“I know,” Aegon agrees, “it’s just for studying, I swear.”

He motions across his chest, crossing his heart. Aemond stares and raises an eyebrow at him. Nothing with Aegon is ever that simple.

“Hel is at the registrar’s office,” Aemond tells him, “if you want to ask her for Y/N’s number.”

Aegon clasps his hands together in appreciation.

“You’re a good brother,” he tells Aemond, standing.

“Mhmm,” Aemond says, going back to his work.

Aegon hurries across campus, luckily the registrar's office isn’t too far. He bumps into his sister as she’s leaving, frowning at her new schedule.

She looks up, noticing Aegon.

“I can’t switch to Medieval Archeology,” Helaena complains to her brother, “there’s a waitlist. Now I’m stuck in the History of Valyria. As if Dad didn’t quiz us incessantly as kids on our own culture.”

“I need a favor,” Aegon says following as Helaena walks down the hallway.

“Don’t you always?” she grumbles, taking out her phone.

“I need your friend Y/N’s number,” he says and Helaena freezes.

“Stupid question Egg,” she tells him, quirking an eyebrow, “No, I’m not giving you her number.”

“Please, I just-”

“Aegon,” Helaena says sharply, “Cassandra Baratheon doesn’t even speak to me anymore.”

Aegon winces dramatically.

“That was years ago,” he argues as Helaena refers to her high school best friend.

“My friends are off limits,” she tells him, “capiche?”

“I just need some study-”

“CAPICHE?” Helaena says, louder this time, with more authority in her normally soft voice.

“ALRIGHT!” Aegon says sighing, “I get it, seriously. I just need a tutor. That’s it.”

Helaena narrows her eyes.

“Fine. But I’m not giving you her number. You’re not getting easy access,” she says getting out her phone, “I’ll text her.”

Aegon sighs.

“Thank you,” he says and Helaena hums in response, sounding an awful lot like Aemond.

She says nothing as she texts and Aegon tries to peek over her shoulder causing her to glare at him. He reaches to turn her phone and she slaps his hand away.

“She’s on the quad,” Hel tells him.

“Perfect, you’re a lifesaver Hel,” he says before leaving.

You sigh dramatically as Helaena leaves you on read. You tilt your head back looking up toward the sky enjoying the feeling of the cool fall air on your face. The sun is still warm, it's early October and summer is just starting to truly slip away. You’re still basking in the sun when Aegon Targaryen sits down in front of you.

“What do you want, Aegon?” you ask, already annoyed by his presence.

He leans forward, smiling, cradling his chin in his palms. He bats his lashes at you, looking ever so innocent. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“The pleasure of your company,” he teases.

“Mhmm,” you answer, looking at him.

“I need a tutor,” he tells you, “I’m failing philosophy, and if I fail this semester I’ll be benched for the rest of the season”

Of course, it all comes back to hockey for Aegon.

“Why don’t you ask Aemond to tutor you?”

“He said no,” Aegon tells you, “I figured you’d be more open to my begging.”

Your cheeks turn red.

“Well you thought wrong,” you tell him, “I don’t have time for tutoring this semester.”

“C’mon, I know you tutored last semester,” he tells you, pouting, “And midterms are coming up! What’s more important than sharing your knowledge with those less fortunate?”

Getting dicked down by Cregan Stark, you think to yourself but bite your tongue.

Aegon’s brows knit together, noticing the blush on your cheeks, the pause in your train of thought.

“There has to be something I can do,” he says, “something I can help you with, tell me.”

“There’s nothing,” you insist, shaking your head.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” Aegon says again, “Tell me, what’s a guy got to do to earn your help?”

Sara would kill me if I waste this opportunity.

“Okay,” you say with a sigh, “I want invites to the party at the hockey house on Friday. Guaranteed entrance.”

Aegon raises a brow.

“Tutor girl has a thing for hockey guys now, huh?”

The blush on your cheeks darkens. Aegon smirks, giving you a once-over.

“You know Jace, why don’t you ask him to hook you up?”

“We’re not close.”

Aegon’s eyes narrow.

“Who do you have your eye on?” he asks, curiously.

“No one,” you lie to him, and he sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“Can’t help you if you’re not honest with me, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” you insist, “and I just want the invite.”

“C’mon give me a hint,” Aegon says, relentlessly, “What’s your type? What position, forward? Center? Left-wing? Goalie?”

Your treacherous body gives you away, breath-catching as he says the word and your lower lip gets caught between your teeth. Aegon grins triumphantly.

“Goooalie,” he says, elongating the word.

He releases a boyish giggle as you turn red. He’s enjoying this too fucking much.

“Cregan Stark, huh?” Aegon chuckles, “Never took you for a puck bunny.”

You glare at him, snapping your book closed.

“Are you going to help me, or should I direct you toward the academic resource center?” you snap, feeling all too embarrassed for even admitting to Aegon you have a crush on Cregan.

“Relax, bunny,” he teases, holding his hands up in surrender, “I’ll help you.”

He holds a hand out toward you. You glance at his outstretched hand, at the silver rings on his thumb and index finger. Aegon wiggles his fingers at you, expectantly. You raise an eyebrow at him and he sighs.

“You want to fuck Stark or not?” Aegon asks, causing your eyes to widen, “cause he’s an enigma, you’ll need my help.”

“Enigma,” you say pursing your lips, “that’s a big word for you, Aegon.”

“Not the only thing that’s big,” Aegon answers, like it’s a preprogrammed response.

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline and you give him a disapproving glare.

“Sorry,” Aegon chuckles, “force of habit.”

“This alliance is time-limited,” you tell him, firmly setting a boundary, “I help you pass, you help me talk to Cregan.”

Aegon’s eyebrows raise, an amused smile on his face. You feel as though you’re selling your soul to the devil himself, the way he’s impishly grinning at you.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he tells you.

You reach across the table, extending your hand for him to shake. With a smirk, Aegon takes your hand in his, the cool metal from his rings pressing against your fingers in juxtaposition to the warmth of his rough palm. A shiver rolls down your spine as he squeezes your hand.

“It’s a deal.”

note: as always comments, likes, & reblogs are always appreciated, I hope this sets up the story for you and I'm excited to share where it goes! MWAH LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!! 😘

I'm tagging my HOTD taglist, but will create a separate tag for this fic as well so comment below if you would like to be tagged in future parts!

HOTD taglist:

@bluevxnuss, @thattargboy, @xlilacfrostx, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @marvelescape, @geminithrone, @deltamoon666, @i-killed-ramsey, @tempt-ress, @eddiemadmunson, @zillahvathek, @hangmanscoming, @jojoesq, @f4ll-for-you, @rwdkarla, @cc13723things, @filipiniamultifandom, @watercolorskyy @alexxavicry @sachafirebringer @polireader @jamespotterismydaddy @grv7ay9In35s @sofiaadler @sophielangdonx @doublesparrows, @sophielangdonx, @alitaar, @castellomargot, @paodemorangol1l1, @nik2blog, @arkainea @eddiemadmunson, @malfoytargaryen, @eudximoniax, @targaryen-world, @ghostheartbeat @savagemickey03, @aemondsdaemons, @candypurplebutterfly, @eddiemadmunson, @xxnaly2, @ghostheartbeat, @savagemickey03, @dieg0brandos-wife, @paodemorangol1l1, @hb8301, @padfooteyes, @valeskafics

bold means I could not tag!

✨ click here to be added to taglist ✨

731 notes · View notes

normansnt · 2 months

Text

The prince pt.4

For @skyxqueen8 (:

Sorry it might be a bit short sorry for that but I think its good lemme know how you like it also SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT IMMA TRY AND BE FASTER🫡

Warnings: reader gets beaten up, mentions of Alastor torturing

"Alastor I'll be fine, I truly don't want to bother you I see you're busy."

You tried your best to convince Alastor to let you go out alone. Now, usually he would, of course he knew how powerful you were you are the prince of hell after all, the fact that you don't like to use your powers doesn't hinder you much you use them when you're in danger.

But there have been headlines about you two dating. Vox's doing no doubt, and with the amount of people that Alastor managed to piss off during his years in hell it's really not safe for you out there.

"My dear, how could I ever be busy for you?" He asked baffled as he took a hold of your hand to stop you from leaving.

You turned around and gave him a quick kiss on his lips.

"My love, I will be just fine I can handle myself. I know the news has been full with us dating but to be fair that puts you in more danger than me, who wouldn't want to hold the kings son's lover for ransom?"

You argued back.

And you had a point, Alastor thought.

"Very well then, dear, however do not forget your radio remember you just turn it on and I shall be there as quick as possible."

You kissed him again and then smiled.

"Yes, I know"

He got you a pocket radio when he first saw the news. So whenever you need him you can just turn it to the channel you knew is his and hell be there in a second (idk lets just pretend).

You really weren't going out for anything special, you just wanted to get coffee with your dad like you do every week.

But the people who Alastor has pissed off didn't care much about where you were going they just wanted to make the fucker pay for what he has done. These were the sharks that Mimzy screwed over and Alastor had to clean her mess up. However during that clean up he kinda ate the boss's son and the boss was not please.

You could take on some annoying sharks really, but they attacked sudden. From the dark. While you were listening to music. So there really wasn't much you could do.

They showed you into an alley and started to beat you up with all sorts of junk they could find. You tried to reach the radio but when they showed you to the ground it broke.

This was when you decided to not play the part of helpless little prince waiting for his knight and used your powers to at least scare them away from you, you didn't have strength left to do anything else.

When you stood up, painfully, you reached for the pocket radio Alastor gave you, at least, for the parts of it.

"Fucking assholes" you liked that radio, you listened to Alastors podcast on it.

You knew you couldn't go see your dad in the state you were in you'd just worry him so you headed back home.

It was a hard journey with all the pain you were in but you managed.

You knew Alastor had things to do so you hoped he wouldn't be home. You didn't want to worry him.

"And who, pray tell, hurt my gorgeous little deer in such ways?" You heard the voice of your boyfriend from behind you as you entered your shared quarters.

"AHH, Fuck, Alastor I-I thought you wouldn't be-"

"Answer the question, please"

His voice was different. And as he exited from the shadows you saw that his voice was not the only thing different.

He wasn't smiling. He had a collected expression on his face, a terrifying calmness. You knew it wasn't directed at you.

He walked over to you and put his hand on your bloody cheek. He stroked your cheek with his thumb while you nestled into the warmness of his palm.

"You know those, sharks, that came here after Mimzy?" You asked him. His thumb stopped.

"Mimzy?" His voice was overly static barely audible.

"No, its not her-"

"I will be back soon" he said still overly static. And with that he left, not without leaving his shadow with you to patch you up.

"Shit" you mumbled. You wondered if you should have said anything.

Alastor's shadow made you sit down, and started tending to your wounds.

-------------------------------------------------

You woke up at 3 am to the ruckus of Alastor coming into you guys's room.

"Alastor" you whispered.

He was bloody all over as he halted on his way to the bathroom.

"Why are you up, darling?" He asked.

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

"What happened."

"Ah-ah-ah dear, I asked the question first." He tried to make the situation lighter.

"Its hard to sleep when your boyfriend is out hell knows where or doing what." You answered with just a hint of anger in your voice.

You took a breath and sighed.

"Your turn"

"Well...dear I don't think you wish to hear the details I know you are not particularly fond of violence, lets just say, I have plenty of new voices for my broadcast, these are going to be longer sessions however, these filths are getting the extra special treatment."

He answered slowly, trying not to anger you further.

You were trying to keep up the strong facade but you just ended your falling into his arms mumbling how worried you were. He hugged you back tightly, holding you to his body.

"I'm sorry, my darling, no harm shall ever befall you under my eye again." He mumbled into your hair.

-------------------------------------------------

In the following weeks all everyone could talk about was how the sessions on radio demons podcast have gotten hours long, just screams for hours, this has never happened someone must have really pissed him off. From then on, Alastor stayed true to his word, no one dared to lay a finger on you.

#male reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel x male reader #male y/n #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader

198 notes · View notes

sp0o0kylights · 9 months

Text

Part Six / Part Seven (YOU ARE HERE) / Part Eight

A03

If the odd, small sounding Steve had been a weird pill to swallow, then the loudly swearing, furious one might as well have been a different person.

Worse?

He wanted Gareth and Eddie to stay behind.

“You are not going to the lab by yourself.” Eddie deadpanned, blocking the door while Steve acted like an agitated snake in front of it.

“You don’t understand.” Steve hissed, weaving back and forth on his feet, like he was trying to find a way out without bowling Eddie over.

Or breaking a window.

“Then help us understand!” Eddie shot back, throwing his hands up.

Which was just the crux of the issue--because Steve seemed fine to talk about the lab being a horrible place, but kept refusing to answer why.

“You don’t have to tell us the full thing man, but give us something.” Gareth pleaded, hoping it didn’t come off as desperate as he felt.

Not his fault Steve was setting off his own anxiety.

The jock stepped back, running a hand through his hair and making a mess of it.

"I don't have the time." He stressed, anger, worry and pure fear mixing together in his tone.

In a mutter he added; "You wouldn't believe me anyways."

Tentatively, Gareth reached out, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

For the first time since they’d known each other, Steve didn’t react to being touched.

"Eddie and I are gonna go no matter what. So you can either give us a heads up now, or you can be mad at us later when we just follow you anyway.” Gareth said, a hell of a lot calmer than he felt.

Steve had turned partly to glare at him, but seemed to at least let the words sink in. To get through that no, really, they were going, and all this arguing was just wasting time.

Not that Gareth trusted it.

"I don't want you guys getting hurt." Steve burst out, and it looked like it cost him to admit even that much.

Like it was inevitable and all this was a Hail Mary attempt to keep them from that future.

Eddie seemed to pick up on it too, because he caught Steve's gaze and held it. "You're a part of Hellfire now. If you were in that lab, we'd be all coming for you. Not one of us--all of us.”

He followed it up by invading Steve’s space, jamming a finger into the jock's chest.

“I don’t know why you think we’d be okay with you getting hurt." Eddie stared hard at him, voice as serious as Gareth had ever heard it. “You’re our friend, too Steve. We’re not abandoning Tiff and the rest of the Scooby Doo gang, and we're also not letting you do something that has you this freaked out, alone.”

Which is what this all seemed to keep coming down to. How Steve was willing to throw himself at problems, how he kept wanting to handle his own issues, while trying to manage everyone else so that he was the only target.

The only person in the know, the only one in the line of fire.

Like he was a burden instead of a person.

Gareth kept wondering how the hell that had happened. If this had been anyone else he would have written it off as some macho bullshit, but Steve wasn't like that. He'd didn't need to be the one white knight.

The fear he spoke with had always been too real, for that.

It wasn't like they--or at least, Eddie and himself, hadn't picked up that something was happening, either. Something big.

Given the weird, hushed conversations Steve kept have with Nancy, and Jonathan and even the kids sometimes…

Once, just once, Gareth had seen Steve talk to the Chief of Police. The asshole had looked awkward as hell, giving Steve a few pats to his shoulder, and Steve looking equally as awkward, leaning into it--but they looked like two people who'd gone through the same shit and now were stuck together. Not a police officer giving a warning to a teenager. Not even a family friend catching up.

Something was up in Hawkins and now wasn't the time to dog Steve about it, but Gareth still wished he'd give them a hint.

A tidbit, a morsel, of what the fuck had him so riled up.

“And if all this means our friends are in danger, then we're absolutely going too.” Eddie continued, nearly nose to nose with Steve.

Steve put his hands on his hips, frustration written all over his face--but he didn’t step away. "I don't think you'd be okay with it, it's just-- I'm just--already involved! This is how it’s been."

As if that wasn’t fucking alarming.

"And now, so are we.” Eddie threw back, pointing at the phone. "It’d help if you at least told us what to watch out for, but if not then we need to stop arguing so we can go help.”

That definitely got through.

Steve tapped a foot, blowing out a breath and overall acted as if Gareth and Eddie were the ones being unreasonable here.

(Or a pissed off single mother of six, not that Gareth was voicing that image.)

"Fine." He snapped finally, pinching the bridge of his nose and backing away from Eddie. “Fine! But you listen to me when we get out there, and if I tell you two to run, I need you to trust me and run.”

A grin tried to blast across Eddie’s face, the smug one he wore when he won and he knew it, but he covered it up before Steve saw.

Gareth doubted it’d take much to slide Steve right back into trying to keep them at the trailer, or straight up pull some dirty ass move to force it.

(He belatedly wondered if he should worry about Steve trying to stab one of Eddie’s tires out, but didn’t think the older teen would go that far.

Not yet, anyway.)

"I wasn't kidding when I said you wouldn't believe me." Steve spoke over his shoulder, blowing through the door the second Eddie got out of the way, marching down the steps to his Beemer. "But let’s just say that lab did a lot worse than create shit like rabid dogs, and a few of their creations might still be there. Grab a weapon!"

“I thought there wasn’t any rabid dogs!” Gareth protested at the same time Eddie said;

"So the cops can get us on felony charges? What is trespassing not enough for you?"

Eddie shook his head, following Steve down to the gravel. "No thanks, man!"

“I never said their weren't rabid dogs at all, I said--wait, who told you that?” Steve asked, trying to turn and face Gareth but Eddie simply pushed him forward, kept him moving.

“They’ve waited for us long enough.” He whispered lowly, as Gareth scrambled about for something to use.

Managed to fetch the fire poker he knew Wayne kept around to scare away coyotes, or rival drug dealers, or anything else wandering about.

If Steve said bring a weapon, he'd bring a damn weapon.

Felony charges or not.

"The cops won't charge us. Not as long as Hopper’s the one who gets there first.” Steve said and the desperation in his voice had faded a little, revealing something hard and self-assured underneath.

Not cocky, but with the strength Hellfire had when approaching a boss or baddie they had conquered once before and were familiar with.

"And if El's involved? He will get there first." Steve said firmly, whipping the backdoor of his car open and yanking a bag out.

A bag that had muffled squawking coming out of it.

Steve snatched a walkie talkie out from it, interrupting a stream of high pitched, upset nonsense coming out the tinny speakers.

Gareth caught someone half asking, half yelling if "-literally anyone could pick up!" before Steve hit the talk button.

"What's happening!?" He demanded, as he slammed the car door and stormed to the trunk.

"Steve!" Several voices yelled at once, the speakers shrieking in static feedback.

One beat out the others, as its owner screeched into the walkie in a tone that only children under fourteen and small dogs seemed to be capable of. "Where the hell have you been!? We called a code red an hour ago!"

"Bitch later Henderson, explain now." Steve commanded, picking out a bat with fucking house nails hammered into it.

Several of which were stained a rusted, blood-red.

Eddie stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing Steve with his mouth ajar as the nails gleamed lazily in his porchlights.

Gareth couldn't blame him; his own heart had just picked up speed.

Steve gave the bat two experimental twirls, flipping it easily in his hand, before he seemed satisfied. Both the weapon and the movement worked together, elevating Steve into something straight out of the fantasy novels Hellfire traded around.

Like a fucking paladin come to life.

Gareth felt his breath hitch at the way it highlighted the guy's biceps, already on display since Steve had shoved his sleeves up. The movement was so smooth and well practiced that it was clear this was his weapon of choice--and that he’d definitely used it before.

Gareth wasn't even attracted to Steve Harrington, but one couldn't be blamed for having eyes.

"Mike insisted he saw lights on at the lab, and Will thought he might have felt something--" Henderson started, before being abruptly interrupted by someone on his end.

"He did feel something, Dustin!"

"Shut up, I'm talking to Steve!”

"Stop arguing and give me the short version. You're all in the lab?" Steve cut in.

‘It should be illegal to sound that annoyed while moving like that.’ Gareth thought idly, as Steve dropped the bat to the ground, then propped it up against his car.

He waved Eddie and Gareth over, one hand going to cover the walkie talkie’s speakers as it spat static. ‘Pick one.’ He mouthed, in the exact same way Gareth’s mom did when she was trying to talk to him and someone on the phone at the same time.

With a short glance at each other, they went.

"--we got to the lab and El and Max were already here--" Dustin tried again, and once again was talked over, making the conversation extremely hard to follow.

Kids, God.

"-You told us to meet you here-"

"-and there were these older kids running around-'

"-excuse you, tiny bratling, we are not kids-"

"Was that Grant?" Gareth found himself asking, as Steve waved a hand above his open trunk distractedly, like a vendor showing off wares.

Except instead of trinkets, it held a gun, a knife and a fucking candlestick.

The latter of which sported another suspicious red stain.

There was a second explosion of noise, and what sounded like multiple walkie's being fought over before a young, female voice came on, its owner having apparently won the tug of war.

"The idiots thought they saw something but it turned out to just be some teenagers breaking into the lab for fun." She scoffed, and sounded suspiciously like a Tiff Jr.

It took a second, but Gareth finally placed the voice to the redheaded girl--the one who rolled her eyes a lot.

"The wall and part of the floor collapsed, some guy fell through a hole into a locked room and El thinks the collapse wasn't an accident." The words were spoken rapid fire, like a front line soldier relaying information. "She and Will both feel something."

Eddie picked up the knife while Gareth simply held up his fire poker.

Steve nodded to them, and closed the trunk.

"Can you all get out of there safely?" He asked.

"El thinks if we leave, the--thing here will attack the guy that's stuck."

'Thing' Gareth mouthed to himself.

Not a person.

Not a dog, or bear, or--anything else.

A thing.

"Fuck." Steve spat, taking his hand off the talk button so no one on the other side heard.

"She and Will aren't sure what it is yet but they're thinking it's from the Upside Down."

After a brief pause wherein someone could be heard shouting in the distance, she sarcastically added; "Honestly I'm happy to leave the guy that's stuck here, he's really annoying--"

"No sacrificing Stewart!" Steve snapped instantly, and despite all the swearing and dramatics, having contact with the kids seemed to ease something in him.

His movements were no longer frantic, back and shoulders looser.

Even the way he talked seemed to unclench, like he'd been told the worst had come and now that it was finally here, he could deal with it.

"If you're sure, because I'm pretty sure Billy is gonna start looking for me soon." Max argued.

Steve groaned. "I'll handle him if he shows up."

For the first time since Steve had picked up the walkie, silence descended.

Gareth wasn't exactly an expert in such things, but it felt judgmental.

"Are you gonna handle it like the last time you handled it? Cause we don't have anything to knock him out with and I don't know if your head can--"

"Thank you Max, but I can deal with him." Steve cut in immediately, face flaming and yeah, they were definitely out of whatever protective crazy mode Steve had started off in. "This time I have my bat and backup. So unless your brother has taken to carrying stacks of plates around, I think I'll be fine!"

"Step brother." Max corrected immediately, huffing.

Then in a slightly quieter voice, she added: "Hey Steve? Get here fast."

"I'm coming. Steve over and out." He said firmly, like an older brother reassuring a younger sibling.

How the hell the guy had ever managed to appear like a heartless asshole was beyond Gareth.

Apparently it was beyond Eddie too because the guy was practically drooling with heart eyes in Steve's direction.

The kids signed off, before quiet, blessedly descended.

"Can I ask one question?" Gareth asked, as Steve cursed at the finally silent walkie talkie.

Steve stopped, entire chest heaving in a sigh.

"Yeah, one." He said, as though even that cost him a lot.

Out of the corner of his eye Gareth watched Eddie shake himself to awareness, and then try to flip the knife with the same move Steve used on the bat's handle.

He fumbled it immediately, chasing the blade as it clattered to the ground.

"Why a candlestick?" Gareth asked quickly, before Steve turned and witnessed Eddie's awkward, scrambling retrieval.

"Jonathan tends to grab the weirdest shit as a weapon." Steve responded. "He's used a trophy, multiple chairs, a lamp," he made an etc. all gesture, as if any of that actually explained things instead of causing about ten more questions.

"The candlestick actually worked pretty well so I kept it." He finished.

"Jonathan Byers?" Eddie said, holding the knife once more and clearly pretending he'd never tried to copy Steve. "How very Cluedo of him."

Steve frowned, nose scrunching in confusion. "Cluedo?"

"He means the game Clue. It's called Cluedo in Europe, Eddie's just a tabletop snob." Gareth rambled anxiously, because throwing Jonathan Byers wielding a candlestick into the mix was just the icing on top of the weird cake.

Part of him wondered if it would be rude if he asked Steve to spin the bat again, while the other part vaguely wondered if any of this was actually happening.

Maybe Eddie had accidentally laced the pot with a hallucinogenic.

(Frankly he wasn't sure how he'd have missed the addition of extra drugs, but hey; you couldn't say that made any more sense than Steve Harrington, small town golden boy, parading around with a fucking bat with nails in it, using a walkie talkie to speak to children about how a thing might try to attack one of their friends.)

The kid’s involvement at least, made a little bit of sense.

They were young but they weren't that young--and they also weren't as quiet as they thought they were.

Particularly not when they were riled up at the arcade.

Gareth knew the lot of them thought one of the girls had superpowers. He also knew they often pretended Will Byers, the kid who'd gone missing, had spent some time acting as a "spy" for whatever evil they all pretended to be battling.

He'd mostly assumed it was a D&D-slash- LARP kind of thing, or even just traumatized kids playing pretend to cope with what had happened, but now?

"I might have lied about just having one question." Gareth admitted as Steve picked up his bat.

"I'll explain some of it later, after we get them out." Steve said, as if Gareth might actually trust him to do so after doing his damndest to dodge giving an explanation.

"Lead on, Sir Harrington." Eddie said before Gareth could say just that, like the lovestruck idiot he was. "We're going to need both cars to carry our wayward friends home, so Gareth and I will follow your lead."

Eddie spun his keys around his fingers, and given the smirk on his face, Gareth would bet money he was hoping it looked as cool as Steve's bat handling.

It didn't.

"Provided you promise to try not to lose us, because I've lived here all my life, I know where the lab is." He finished, and somehow managed to make the words sound fun and not the blatant warning it was.

Steve nodded once, hard. "Alright. Stay close to my car, and flash your high beams twice if you run into any problems--or see like, people in suites."

"People in suites?" Eddie asked, the knife still clutched awkwardly in his hand.

"Government agent kinda dudes, they're easy to spot." Steve said, like he was cautioning them to look out for deer darting across the road. "They usually look like they shouldn't be wherever they are."

"Alright." Gareth said, before his brain could come up with a list of questions regarding that.

Steve slung himself into the front seat of his car, Gareth claiming shotgun in Eddie's van shortly thereafter.

They waited to let Steve out first, and then stayed right on his tail as Steve promptly broke multiple laws to get to the lab.

"So this is all ominous as hell, right?" Eddie said, metal music pouring from the vans speakers and eyes on the taillights of the beamer.

"Oh dude, incredibly ominous. There was blood on that candlestick. " Gareth said, still in disbelief.

Whose candlestick had that even belonged to, originally? At what point in all this had Steve decided to hammer nails into a baseball bat?

Nevermind the weapon he was trying not to think about in the trunk of Steve’s car.

The gun.

Gareth knew instinctively why neither of them had gone for it. Eddie's father had drilled into him that the extra charge for carrying was never worth it and Gareth's own father had a firm "if you point it then you might as well have used it" mentality.

Steve didn't look like the kind of person to handle killing someone well himself, and yet the gun remained, locked up in the back of his trunk.

An option he'd offered to both Eddie and Gareth without bothering to fully fill them in.

"Blood on the bat too." Eddie said, dragging Gareth's attention back to the present.

Which at least, gave Gareth an opening for familiar ground. "I'm surprised you noticed that, given you looked like you lost all the blood in your head when he started swinging it around."

"Shut up." Eddie grumped, and though normally Gareth would tease him more, he found he just...couldn't.

Not right now.

"I'm more worried that they all kept calling whatever the thing was…well. A thing." He said, because God was it bothering him. “I mean I guess it could be an animal still but the way they were talking about it…” He trailed off, uncomfortable.

"Personally I'm hoping for monsters." Eddie said.

Gareth turned to shoot him a look. "Seriously Ed’s?"

"Mmm. Because if it's not monsters Gareth, it's humans," Eddie tapped the steering wheel in time with Metallica's For Whom the Bell Tolls. "and humans scare me more than anything."

Gareth leaned back, letting the seat absorb him, his own eyes sticking to the back of Steve's head. "I guess."

Not that he wanted to deal with either.

Best case scenario in all this?

Everyone got out safely, and they drilled Steve into what the hell had happened to him, later.

Not that life was ever that simple.

xXx

Tiff met them outside the lab.

The place was desolate. Abandoned with the kind of tell-tale signs that boldly stated something awful had happened there.

Papers and a chair were still left in the guard shack and a phone dangling off the hook completing the look. The lab itself was dotted with broken windows, the corresponding shattered glass glittering all over the ground.

All it was missing was some lightning and it would be a great location for a slasher film.

One set of odd, claw-like marks on the ground later, right near where they all parked, and Gareth abruptly decided he'd rather focus on Tiffany rather than follow that thought more.

Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her expression annoyed, but the dead giveaway to her freaked out status was the way she couldn't seem to stop moving. Not even after they’d gotten out of their respective cars and started towards her.

Gareth hadn't seen her this bad since the day she temporarily lost her SAT guide.

It didn't bode well for the adventure ahead.

"Finally." She complained as the trio approached. "Did you three stop for milkshakes on the way!?"

"Traffic Tiff, you know how it is." Eddie said with an easy smile and a wave of his hand.

She simply gave a pointed look at her watch before glaring back at them.

"Steve!" Someone yelled, and Dustin promptly launched out of some corner at the older teen, babbling a mile a minute.

“Slow down, God!” Steve interrupted, doing a clear head to toe sweep of the kid. “You okay? Everyone good? Nobody dead?”

“Not yet!” Dustin said chipperly, which caused Steve to swat at his hat.

“Are you okay?” Gareth asked Tiff, as Steve and Dustin began talking rapid-fire, in the kind of way that spoke of past events and made little to no sense to anyone not in the loop.

"Yeah." Tiff nodded stiffly. “Would have been a lot happier if Stewart had listened to me for once, but.” She shrugged, her version of ‘it is what it is.’

Eddie reached out, squeezing her shoulder gently. “Is everyone else in the lab?” He asked, peering about.

He got another nod. “The room the idiot’s stuck in is just up the stairs and down the hall a bit. I’m amazed he didn’t get hurt, he fell through the ceiling.” She shook her head, clearly worried and trying her best not to show it. “Everyone’s kind of been wandering between there and here, but the random children who showed up are insisting we all walk around in groups.”

She turned to eye Dustin, before looking towards the entryway to the lab.

“Probably a good thing given the wall collapsed, but they all think there’s some,” She huffed, arms shrugging helplessly. “monster lurking about.”

Gareth stared at the lab entrance for a moment, once again taking in random stains and smears that were all around them. Spotted a few more of those weird, elongated claw marks raking down the stairs, spread more like fingers than anything else, and the group of them that surrounded a suspiciously large stain in the entryway.

“What made you guys want to explore the lab tonight anyway? It’s Thursday.” Eddie asked.

This earned him a more animated eye roll.

“Would you believe me if I told you I owed Jeff a favor, and he owed Grant a favor, and Grant got into it with Stewart over whether or not the lab had glowing goo hiding inside?"

“Glowing goo?” Eddie and Gareth echoed as one.

“Like what Mikey the bartender was saying last time he was drunk? The whole thing with that weird green goo that fell out of some truck?” Gareth asked, and it wasn’t the stupidest thing that had riled up Stewart and Grant but by God was it up there.

Tiff sighed a second time, sounding pained. “Yeah. That goo. Stewart kept insisting Mikey got a “hot tip” that some military guys knew it was here,” Her fingers came up to make the quotation marks, somehow managing to make the movement sarcastic. “and wanted it moved over to that new mall they’re building. Starcourt.”

“So Stewart had to come see it.” Eddie finished, as if he wouldn’t have also been dying to go get a look.

Frankly, Gareth himself was slightly annoyed he and Eddie hadn’t been called upon as it were.

“Mikey also apparently believes something else wants the goo and chased the military guys who were here out of the building. That part must be going around, because the kids here are pretty insistent there’s a monster inside.” Tiffany added, waving a hand towards Dustin.

Eddie made a move to slung his arm over her shoulder, giving her a full body squeeze before letting her go.

Tiff allowed it, and for the briefest of seconds, even seemed to lean in.

“Hello Steve, nice murder weapon.” She greeted loudly, entirely unphased by the nail bat in his hands as Hellfire’s jock and his favorite small annoyance stepped up to them. “Having met your children, I have to say, your parenting skills are utter shit.”

Dustin frowned up at her, instantly offended. “Steve’s our friend.” He corrected, angrily emphasizing ‘friend,’ right over the top of Steve’s loud protest of;

“It’s not a murder weapon, jeez!”

“If anyone is lacking in skills it’s your little group’s!” Dustin cut in, waving a hand around. “Not one of you was prepared for breaking into the lab! No weapons, no back up, you’re the only one who even had quarters and one of you isn’t even wearing a jacket. If we hadn’t shown up you guys would have been in some real shit!”

Tiff stared flatly down at Dustin, ignoring Steve entirely. “Sure, pipsqueak."

“What are you guys even doing here?” Steve asked, before Dustin could fuss more.

“Glowing goo, apparently.” Eddie answered, moving with him.

Tiffany took the hint, starting to walk towards the stairs as Dustin trotted forward next to her, clearly intending to “lead” just as much as she was.

Gareth watched from the corner of his eyes as Steve automatically stepped to Dustin’s right, making sure the kid was surrounded on all sides.

‘Fuckin’ softie.’ He thought fondly, even as he gripped the fire poker he held in his hand tighter.

Eddie had managed to stow the knife away, making it vanish somewhere among his jacket and Judas Priest shirt, so it was just him and Steve looking like lunatics.

Thankfully, Tiff had spared Gareth her opinion on the fire poker.

“Goo?” Steve asked, and unlike the rest of them, he sounded downright alarmed.

“So there’s this bartender at the Hideout.” Eddie started, launching into the story with a lot more pizzazz than Gareth thought it really required. He and Tiff traded glances, and Gareth got to see the exact moment Dustin’s eyes caught sight of Eddie and went dinner plate wide.

Gareth would have nudged Tiff, maybe made a joke about how Eddie was gaining a new sheep just by his terminal need to be the loudest person in a room, but a movement on the left caught his gaze.

Gareth stopped, as something unmistakably fleshy slunk back in the shadows, one weirdly shaped paw flashing as something caught the light.

Fear raked through him, freezing Gareth dead to the spot, hands tightening on his fire poker.

“Hey, guys? He asked, interrupting whatever story Eddie had inevitably gone off of (likely one of the many, many backstories involving Mikey the bartender’s belief in UFOs) “That monster the kids think they saw. What uh, what’s it supposed to look like?”

“Why?” Tiff asked, at the same time Eddie yelled at him to; “Keep up, Gary, god!”

Gareth didn’t answer, instead staring deep into the shadows.

Nothing moved.

‘You’re seeing things.’ He told himself finally. ‘Unless it went through solid fucking wall, you would still be able to see it. You're just stressing yourself out because Steve’s being weird.’

Fuck knows it wouldn’t be the first time he thought he saw something when his anxiety started acting up.

"So Gare, did you bring the fire poker along because of the monster?" Tiff asked, amused, as she briefly dropped back towards him.

Clearly, she'd just been waiting for an opening to tease him about it.

He flushed scarlet.

"No!" He spat, hugging the thing closer.

A grin unfurled on Tiff's face, Cheshire-esque.

"I'm serious, Steve told us to bring it!" Gareth insisted, trying to look manly with it.

He knew he failed as badly as Eddie had earlier.

"You know, I'm starting to think Eddie's not the only one gone on our human fighter…" Tiff trailed off, raising one eyebrow, and causing Gareth to flip her off.

Thankfully that train of conversation was interrupted by loud arguing.

“We’re not cats Steve, you can’t just put us outside!” One of the kids was bitching, the group having caught sight of Steve and hustling over.

Jeff was seated on the floor in the hallway, one hand holding up his chin while Grant leaned against the wall next to him, both looking incredibly bored.

Across from them was a door that had looked like it had survived a full-blown seige. Cracks ran throughout the wood, and with the entire center of it bowed inward it was clear why no one could manage to get Stewart out of the room.

It was completely wedged in the frame, with thick enough edges to make it impossible to just pop it out by hand.

The hoard of gremlins were harder to make out now that they were all clumped together, but Gareth quickly made out their very….unique outfits.

Only the girls had dressed normally, while the boys looking like they either were planning on robbing a train.

Bandana’s over their faces and all.

“Yes, I can actually.” Steve retorted in the exact same bitchy tone. "Tiffany can stay with you guys by the cars while the rest of us figure out how to get Stewart.”

"Thanks for volunteering me." Tiff said flatly, but alas, was ignored by the group at large.

“Really? So you don’t want El to, you know. Help.” The terminally loud one spat.

“El’s gonna dump your ass if you don’t stop talking for her, Mike.” Steve warned, making the girl puff up proudly while Mike immediately cut a fearful glance to his girlfriend.

“And if El could have helped before, why wait for me to get here?” Steve continued, one hand on his hip, the other resting the nail bat over his shoulder, cutting in before Mike's scrambled apology derailed the conversation.

“I cannot move the door.” El admitted in that sort of flat, blunt way she spoke. “There is something here that is making my powers unstable.”

Steve pointed to her, face morphing into a clear “see?” gesture.

“Now unless Dustin is going to science the door open somehow--and I’m not saying you couldn’t,” Steve spoke the second part quickly, as Dustin’s mouth popped open, “then all of you are going to wait outside. Where the demo-the thing, isn’t.”

Gareth really, really hated how he kept referring to it as a thing.

One of the kids rolled their eyes and muttered; “We literally said we don’t know if it’s a--” and promptly got elbowed in the stomach for it.

Right.

Not suspicious at all.

“But we can help!” Dustin protested furiously.

Gareth wasn't sure if it was because Dustin truly thought he could help, or if it was because he wasn't used to the pushback.

For all that he was an only child, Steve had clearly inherited an older brother's prerogative of letting kids do stupid shit so long as he supervised (and typically, laughed at the outcome.

Gareth still fondly recalled the time Mike declared himself man enough to smoke.

Steve had conned him into chainsmoking outside the arcade until the kid finally threw up in the bushes on his fourth cigarette and declared Steve's smoking habit disgusting.)

“El could help.” Steve countered calmly. “Max probably, if I gave her my bat, but the rest of you are just moving targets. So make like a drum, and beat it.”

"That was lame, Steve." Dustin sniffed, while the other kids groaned loudly. “A real low effort pun.”

Steve just flicked his hand out in a shoo motion before leaning his bat up against the wall.

Jeff stared it before making immediate eye contact with Gareth, every inch of him screaming ‘what the hell!’

With a sigh, and an unfortunate side glance at Tiff, Gareth explained; “It’s for the monster.”

That at least, was easier than explaining Steve knew what was here and was doing his damndest not to tell them what it was.

Even if it made Tiff grin manically in his direction.

His only relief was that Steve got her attention right after, calling "Heads up!" before tossing her his car keys.

Because her hand eye coordination was superior to Eddie’s, she caught them easily.

If there's an emergency, get them out." Steve warned, voice just over the edge of too serious, losing the banter he’d kept up since they’d arrived.

"If there's an emergency we're coming back on to save your ass." Dustin snapped back, arms crossed, because of course he was listening.

“No.” Steve told him simply.

“Yes.”

“No, no, no-!”

Tiff let out a sharp whistle, the sound piercing in the echoing hallway.

"Gremlins with me!" She commanded, before catching Steve's eyes over their heads . "You fucking owe me, Harrington."

He nodded, before dropping a glare to the kids. "Just don't let them drive my car."

“God I can’t believe he’s still upset about that, it’s not like we fucked up the Camaro.” Mike complained loudly, allowing himself to be herded back outdoors.

“Max did hit a mailbox.” Lucas retorted, and then yelped a loud; “Ow, Max!” as he was presumably punished for voicing the fact out loud.

Their voices faded slightly as they went down the stairs, and Gareth managed to drag his attention back to the problem at hand.

One very fucked up door.

"Do you think we could kick it down?” Steve asked, as Eddie bent down to examine the door.

Refusing to look anyone in the face, Jeff said; “We may have tried that already.”

“My darling lambs, you’re approaching this wrong.” Eddie cooed, and got several glares for it.

“The door might be fucked by the hinges here, are not. Looks like all I need is the right screwdriver and lucky for Stewart!--” He yelled his friend's name, banging on the door and no doubt hoping to spook him.

A muffled shout of “Screw you Munson!” was all he got for his efforts.

“--I have my toolbox in my car.”

“Do I want to know what you have a toolbox for, Ed's?” Steve asked.

“Perfectly legal avenues only, I assure you.” Eddie replied, batting his eyelashes up at Steve innocently.

Grant and Jeff both gagged.

“Would the two of you gentlemen be so kind as to fetch me my box?” Eddie said, pulling out his keys and offering them up to Jeff. “I want to try one more thing. I don’t think it’ll work, but I can test it while you boys are gone.”

“He’s going to try to kick it in himself.” Gareth tattled flatly.

“I am not!” Eddie immediately denied, eyes wide in feigned hurt.

It was fake as shit.

“Let him!” Jeff said over as he got up. “That way I won’t be the only one getting made fun of for doing it!”

A car suddenly honked from outside, startling them all.

“Check that the shitheads aren’t murdering Tiff while you’re out there!” Steve called as Jeff and Grant took off towards the entrance, before moving out of Eddie’s way as he surged upwards.

“It’s more likely she’d be murdering them.” Eddie replied, and sure enough he was backing up like he was going to try and kick the door.

“Do you see how thick that thing is? The indent, here?” Steve sassed, pointing towards the giant dent slightly off center, where the door bowed inwards. “I’m pretty sure Jeff wasn’t the one who did that. These things are built to hold, man.”

“Ah but you’ve seen Jeffery's legs. Our beloved new cleric should stick to punching things, he’s not made for kicking.” Eddie said, tongue peaking out of his mouth as he sized up the door.

An odd, low chittering caught Gareth’s attention, the noise like nails on a chalkboard as the older teens continued to argue.

“Have you seen yourself?” Steve asked point blank, hip cocked and bitch mode on. “You aren’t either.”

“Don’t be mean, Steven, just because I don’t have jock muscles--”

The chittering got louder, and Gareth found himself taking a few steps away from his friends, in the opposite direction of the stairs as he tried to figure out where the fuck it was coming from.

A light at the farthest end of the long hallway gave out, barely noticeable. unless one was looking for it. Gareth hadn't even internalized the hallway had lighting, he'd been too busying with everything else--but it did.

Likely the place had a backup generator, but that didn't explain why the lights in this hallway were on--and now, suddenly, giving out.

'Maybe the kids did it...?' He thought, still trying to figure out why the chittering sounded like it was getting closer.

“You’re going to break your leg.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you need to believe in people more Stevie? Have some faith?”

“I have faith that you’re face is about to hit the floor, does that count?”

Another light failed, giving the appearance of the hallway warping. Not all of it, just one weird wall, that seemed to stretch like something was trying to break out.

"Okay but if I kick the door and it busts in, you owe me ten bucks."

"If you kick the door down not only will I give you ten bucks, Eddie, I'll go see that stupid new movie you won't shut up about with you."

"Oh we'll be seeing Fright Night with or without my door busting talents--"

Another light, out, and now Gareth could see a shape taking form. Later he'd swear it had actually, crawled out from the wall.

(Later, he'd find out the Upside Down creatures had a habit of doing that.)

He thought it was a tiger at first.

It has the same overall shape--long body with muscular shoulders, head low as it prowled forward.

Except the tail curled up over its back, hanging like a scorpion’s and its face…

It took a second for Gareth to make sense of what he was seeing.

The huge, oddly shaped bulb, like a flower’s before it unfurled.

Thick liquid drooled out from red tinged edges, dripping onto the floor. It was too far away to hear, but Gareth imagined the little plinks of noise it made anyway.

"Guys." He said, voice pitched impossibly high.

The Not-Tiger stepped further into the light, revealing it to be hairless.

Its skin was flecked red and grotesquely gray, with odd, thick folds of flesh hanging off its sides. Those pieces moved in weird little jerks and flutters, almost like another appendage entirely.

Another step forward, the weird, folded pieces of skin moving out and out and out on either side of it, hitching up in a U shape and oh, God.

They were wings.

'Lion body, scorpion tail, dragon wings.' A far off part of Gareth identified. 'It's missing the human face, but otherwise that's pretty dead on for a--"

"Manticore!" Gareth screamed, right as the things head split open into five petals filled with rows of fangs.

It screamed right back, then lunged at him, claws and teeth and tail all extending to attack.

314 notes · View notes

romantichomicide95 · 1 year

Note

Could you do something where Gojo is jealous? Possibly smut? Or whatever you want.

Gojo x Reader Jealousy

I wanted to make this more fluff but maybe I’m bad at fluff? I hope you like it either way.

“Fuck.” Was the first thought that sprang into your mind when you saw him from across the room. Even though you couldn’t see Satoru’s eyes you knew him well enough to know that anger was written all over his face. Not that it was your doing, you couldn’t help if some random dumb guy was gunna flirt with you. You definitely weren’t reciprocating. However, you really didn’t want him to cause a scene. And knowing your boyfriend, there was a strong possibility that could happen”

“Hey babeeee.” Satoru says, drawing out his words. He’s come up beside you and immediately puts his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. “Who’s your friend.” He asks, eyeing this guy over his sunglasses.

“Names Takami.” The irritation in Takami’s vpice wasn’t a good sign. If he knew better, if he knew Satoru Gojo, he would know not to piss him off. But he didn’t. He wasn’t a part of your world.

“Well, Takami.” Satoru was in his face now. “This is MY girl you’re trying to talk to. I’ll be nice and give you one chance to fuck off.” You look at Takami with pleading eyes, you couldn’t handle Satoru starting a scene.

“I was just being nice. She was all alone, just wanted to offer her a drink.” Takami says, puffing out his chest. Why were men like this? You thought.

“Interesting, considering she already has one. That I bought her. Now didn’t I tell you to fuck off.” Satoru was in his face now. Which wasn’t good. He was probably at the least 5 inches taller than this guy. You looked at Takami with pleading eyes. “Whatever. I don’t need to deal with this.” He said as he grabbed his drink and walked away.

“Let’s go home. This bar sucks anyway.” Satoru said grabbing your hand in his and leading you to the door. The car ride home was quiet. Music was blaring and Satoru was singing along to every song, like he always did.

“Toruuu why you gotta get all macho man like you did” you ask once you’ve settled into his apartment, throwing a hoodie of his over your head.

“Because baby I was jealous. I don’t like seeing other guys try to hit on you.” He gives you a sad look, peering over his sunglasses at you and pouting. “You’re too pretty, I have to keep them away somehow.”

You roll your eyes. He was such a baby sometimes, a big man baby. But you had to admit, whenever he got jealous or territorial like this you couldn’t help but internally enjoy it, not that you’d ever tell him.

“I could handle it. I respectfully told him thank you and I had a boyfriend when he asked to buy me a drink.” It truly was a small interaction, took less time than Satoru was in the bathroom for.

“I know you can handle it. But I want to handle things for you, you’re my precious little pumpkin can’t let anyone else have you.” he smirks.

“You’re such a…” you start to say.

“Wonderful boyfriend who protects you from asshole creeps and is super handsome?” he cuts you off, fluttering his eyelashes at you. You hit him with a couch pillow and giggle.

“Oh Toru, you definitely are all those things. I can’t ever stay annoyed at you.”

“I know. You could never! It’s impossible to resist my charms.” he pulls you in closer, wrapping you up his big arms. You lay your head on his chest, listening to the litter patter of his heartbeat.

“Yeah. Oh how charming you are Saturo Gojo.” You reach up to give him a peck on the lips. “You’re my knight in shining armor. Protecting me from all the evil doer men at all the bars.” You laugh, snuggling in closer to his chest. Feeling the warmth of him and inhaling the all too familiar but comforting scent. “Let’s watch a movie Toru.”

“Let’s. But only if you let me cuddle you the whole time.” He says leaning down and placing kisses all over your face.

“Of course Toru. I couldn’t think of anything better to do.”

#gojou satoru x you #saturo gojo #gojo x reader #saturo gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu maiden #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo

386 notes · View notes

coolchulainn · 1 year

Note

Hey, so in your recent DRK art tags you mentioned German Sidguru being extremely different from the English, and I'm Intrigued, can you spare any details?

HI IF YOU'RE FINDING THIS OLD POST IN THE TAGS OR SOMETHING GO CHECK OUT THIS SITE https://germanffxiv.neocities.org/

the thing is actually that german sidurgu isn't all that different from the english one, the german one is just (in my opinion) a way better execution of the same concept. fray and myste are completely different characters between languages so their english versions have their own appeal going for them but sidurgu is just The Better Sidurgu in german lol

the biggest point for me is that sidurgu is primarily driven by his trauma over having to watch his family be murdered as a child yeah? from which the german writers concluded that hey, I don't think this guy would be an asshole to myste actually (which is a name customarily given to orphans in the brume). he's still clearly not good with kids and struggling to keep his patience with myste, but he makes the effort to not be cruel to a child, because he's very aware of how much you can fuck up a child forever. it's just a so much more compassionate and nuanced take. his interactions with myste are more entertaining for it too, because instead of a gruff guy being mean to a child you have a gruff guy trying really really hard to not be mean to a child and then two quests later trying to pretend he's still sternly keeping an eye on this child and definitely doesn't have signed adoption papers in his back pocket.

another thing with sidurgu is that he claims to be fighting to protect rielle, but he's really just using her situation as an excuse to act on his violent hatred of the temple knights and lash out in response to his own issues, and doesn't actually listen to what rielle wants or needs. in german it's emphasised much more that he attached himself to rielle because she's effectively orphaned too and he recognised himself in that but it's precisely because her situation hits so close to home for him that he's getting caught up in his own desire to avenge what he lost and fails to see what he still has.

after rielle and the moogles rip into him for this he actually admits using the capital T trauma word that yeah, he's been so caught up in his own trauma that he failed to do right by her, because the german script isn't embarrassed to have the tall broody dark knight say he's traumatised and begin to heal from it. the real kicker on this part for me is that after this convo in english sidurgu is like, let's go back to ishgard, and in german he additionally says they can talk things over on the way back (because he does care for rielle and does want to do right by her and he's going to make active effort to listen to her), like it's such a small thing that makes such a big difference.

in english when it turns out the person hunting down rielle is her own mother, sidurgu gets mad at her for keeping this a secret when he and fray bled and died for her. in german he rages at her mother, because he's been so fucked up from having to grow up without his parents after they were violently taken from him that he can't even begin to comprehend a parent willingly withholding love from their child. when he initially spares rielle's mother he explicitly says it's because no child should have to watch their parents die, and rielle tells him to kill her anyway by saying it's her turn to get vengeance. it's the same general plotline but it feels much more internally consistent in german.

in the english 70 quest fray and sidurgu barely acknowledge each other. in german sidurgu calls fray by name, and fray says somewhat apologetically that they're just a painful memory from a corner of the wol's heart. sidurgu responds to this by throwing his sword at fray and saying "here, this way you can't complain the issue was a blunt weapon again", clearly referencing a memory he shared with fray because the memory of fray is just as important to him as the "real" thing was. when you ask sidurgu about fray after completing all the quests he wonders why you'd bring up fray of all people now, but then adds "fine, I do like remembering him". it's much more tangible that the two of them meant a lot to each other within the very few snapshots you get of their relationship.

overall when put next to each other it just feels to me like the english script was scared of ruining the image of dark knight being so cool stomping around in your spiky armor with your bigass sword, while the german script says with its whole chest that dark knight is about traumatised people banding together to hopefully spare others some of the same pain. both scripts tell you that being a dark knight is about love, but english feels embarrassed to say it while the german quest is permeated with it at every point, in so many ways that if i wanted to list them all it'd be more efficient to just translate the whole thing directly. in being so focused on sidurgu's image of edgy brooding knight the english script ends up being way less compassionate to him.

ironically german sidurgu as a character more purposely cultivates his brooding edgy image as an extension of how much it means to him to be a dark knight, which leaves him open to other characters poking fun at him for it to humanize him and he's way funnier in german because of that. english rielle calls him a chocobo's arse and german rielle jokes that his short temper seems to be an occupational disease among dark knights. he feels more like a complete person rather than a character archetype because they actually let him have a full range of emotions. in english he loudly complains about having to help myste because idk its uncool for dark knights to actually help people or whatever. in german he says helping myste is all well and good but he's not exactly a good therapist so he really hopes some of the people they'll be trying to help have problems that can be solved with violence (and is openly excited when you encounter that girl who poisoned you at falcons nest and he realizes helping her will involve beating the shit out of her prison guard).

i'll be real i think the german team are just straight up better writers than the english team. I've been replaying the msq in german and it's a consistent pattern that the german script has more elegance, is more thematically consistent, and above all isn't afraid to let characters be motivated by emotion. i'm getting off track but you know how in castrum meridianum livia says she's going to kill you because gaius is hers and you can't have him? in german she's mad at you for killing her friend rihtahtyn (yknow, from cape westwind) and she's going to kill you and avenge him before you can take gaius from her too, which just makes way more sense as a character motivation without compromising her possessiveness. in english cid left the empire over moral disagreements in german he's additionally motivated by the complicated resentment he feels over losing his father to project meteor (which in english doesn't come up until three expansions later in bozja) and having gaius fill that paternal role for a while only to lose him to a mad search for power too. it just really doesn't compare. highly recommend anyone who can to start playing the game in a language other than english.

#pigeonwitchery #ffxiv #sidurgu

313 notes · View notes

antianakin · 5 months

Note

It doesn't happen as much, but some people said that Taron Malicos (that crazy ex-Jedi from Fallen Order) was right about the Jedi's decline, forgetting that Malicos is mentally-deranged and fallen to the Dark Side. Not exactly the most reliable authority on Jedi history and culture, if you ask me.

Yeah, the Cal Kestis games sit in that sort-of "soft anti-Jedi"/"Jedi critical" space where they have moments that are absolutely telling the audience that the Jedi were weak, or at fault for what happened or old-fashioned/behind the times, but that they were still GOOD PEOPLE and Cal is absolutely still identifying as a Jedi whole-heartedly and doing Jedi stuff etc etc. The entire storyline of Fallen Order is that Cal and Cere are trying to find the list of Force sensitive kids so they can try to rebuild the Jedi Order and it's sad when they have to make the choice to let that dream go in order to protect the kids from the Empire. Cal getting Knighted by Cere is a happy, triumphant moment. The whole flashback to Order 66 being included and being SO SO SAD is a major element of the game. Cal and Merrin literally bond over being survivors of the devastating tragedy that is the total loss of their people. (It comes up even less in Survivor, the one place it shows up is within his romance with Merrin.)

So the message getting sent is that sure, MAYBE the Jedi weren't always perfect, but it also DOESN'T MATTER because nothing they did warranted what happened to them and it's still a good thing to be a Jedi. So Taron Malicos might be "right" in the sense that the narrative doesn't really specify one way or another (but sort-of implies that he might be), but being "right" doesn't justify being a selfish asshole and hurting other people. So it stops mattering at all if he's "right" or not anyway.

Rebels does similar stuff, quite honestly. This idea that the Jedi might've made mistakes in places, but that ultimately their loss is still SAD and Kanan is fucked up by it and both he and Ezra learn to be better people as they learn to commit to being true Jedi. It's a GOOD thing for both of them to become Jedi.

They both sit in this middle ground of saying that being a Jedi is a good thing and the loss of the Jedi is still a tragedy, but the current Jedi are going to learn from the mistakes of their predecessors who fucked up enough that it might've led them to their own doom. It's kinda sad that some of the better Jedi centric content we've gotten recently comes with this need to criticize the Jedi for shit they didn't even do, but it's VERY common. Even High Republic has elements of this in it from the few of the novels I've read.

But I will say that, as much as it's annoying to me personally to have to deal with that, it's better than something like, say, I don't know, the Ahsoka show which has the darksider characters NOT come across as evil selfish assholes and none of the main "Jedi" characters ever seem to actually identify (or even WANT to identify) as Jedi and implies that being a Jedi might be a lesser or inferior way to identify just in general and that there's nothing truly sad about the loss of the Jedi themselves. At least there's a lot of other generally positive Jedi stuff in Rebels and the Cal Kestis games to enjoy. Ahsoka didn't give a single Jedi positive moment in the entire fucking show.

#star wars #jedi fallen order #jedi survivor #cal kestis #jfo #taron malicos #rebels #star wars rebels #jedi #pro jedi #anti ahsoka show

67 notes · View notes

angel-of-the-moons · 7 months

Text

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: None mostly. Goldfish slander, some minor injuries resulting from clumsiness, mentions of events from the show. Layla is here! We stan a healthy, happy divorced couple in this house >=\

A/N: There will be multiple chapters like these in this series, mostly dialogue and filler to help facilitate plot.

Taglist: @shirukitsune @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @bad4amficideas

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 4:

Old, Unhappy, Far-Off Things

"You guys can't keep doing this." Layla said over the phone.

"I know, I know." Marc sighed, running his hands through his hair. He haphazardly sprinkled some fish flakes into the tank to feed the ever chubby goldfish; looking at the glass to see Steven's reflection staring back at him, a frown creasing his features.

(Marc, you're going to make 'em pop!) Steven scolded.

"Well, how am I supposed to know how much to feed three goldfish?" Marc groaned.

"Steven told you the fish were gonna explode, eh?" Layla laughed softly.

"Yeah. Almost exactly that. I swear, I've never met a man who needs an emotional support fish." He replied, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear, screwing the lid back onto the tiny container of nasty-smelling flakes.

(How dare you! Gus and his friends are members of this family! You're going to hurt their feelings!) Steven said, absolutely aghast at Marc's summary of how the little aquatic creatures fit into their lives.

(The other two don't even have names yet, hermanito.) Jake finally piped in, coming to co-front to see what all the fuss was about.

"But seriously, Marc. You have to take it easy. Just tell Khonshu to shove off and ignore his bony ass for a few days!" Layla sighed. Though they weren't married or intimate anymore, Layla still cared deeply for "her boys"; even Jake, to a point. Even if she didn't fully trust him, he was a part of Marc and Steven. Part of their system. She knew Jake was the protector. She knew that he was only violent when he absolutely had to be.

Or when Khonshu sent him after fresh targets. She still didn't like that.

"You think I haven't tried that?" Marc flopped onto the sofa, his hand resting over his face as he sighed.

"He's a god, Layla. It's not so easy to just say no."

"Taweret doesn't seem to have a problem with boundaries." She pointed out.

"Because Taweret is a big softie, Layla. She literally mothers you." Marc retorted with a grunt.

"Well… she is the goddess of motherhood. One of them, anyway." Layla conceded.

"And Khonshu is the god of being a tall, harping asshole who refuses to let me rest." Marc leaned back, closing his eyes as the leather on the sofa softly groaned under his weight.

"You think we like working for him, still? We don't. We need the suit, and people need to be kept safe..."

"Have you considered just… giving it all up? Telling Khonshu you're done? Just hang up the cape?" Layla hummed.

Marc could feel Steven and Jake fade into the background of the headspace, leaving him alone to his conversation with Layla, not enjoying the current topic at all. And it would be smarter to prevent a possible argument between Jake and Marc, right now. They had enough headaches.

"I already tried that, remember? Khonshu just used Jake before we knew he was here and had him kill Harrow."

"Right…"

"And besides…" Marc said, conspiratorially. "...I think he already has his sights set on another person to be a Moon Knight. And I don't know who it is, but I know he's going to hold it over my head. Steven, Jake and I would rather be dead than let some poor, innocent person see the shit we have."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Okay… You obviously need a mental health break. Anyplace in particular you can go to get away from everything?"

"Well… there is one place. A little shop Steven found that's nearby." Marc replied.

"Is it a bookstore?" Layla laughed.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." Marc chuckled. "Some woman runs it. American, if you can believe that. Apparently the store was her aunt's or something and she inherited it from her when she died. Steven's built a bit of a rapport with her. Me too. Kinda. She also sells stuff like coffee, tea, snacks… kind of like a one-person cafe."

"She runs it alone?"

"Yeah, impressive actually. But, it's not always safe, I saw that the other day." Marc nodeed.

"Oh? What happened?" Layla asked, wholly invested now. They had a friend? She likely didn't know about their DID, but Marc, and by that extension Steven, and possibly Jake having friends was a win in Layla's book.

"Some abusive drunk ran in after his girlfriend. Apparently she hid his girlfriend in her flat upstairs when she came in covered with bruises and freaking out." Marc said, smiling a bit at remembering your tenacity and urge to protect somebody you didn't even know. Even Jake respected you after that. And Jake respects very few people.

But it proves you were a protector, like he was. Not to the same extent, but close.

"Sounds like a good person."

"She seems like one. I just hope she doesn't get herself into trouble with anymore–ah!" Marc hissed, dropping the phone and waving his hand in the air as pain whipped through his fingertips.

"Shit!" He cursed, picking up the phone again with his other hand. He glared at the red marks appearing in his palm.

"Marc? Are you okay? What happened?" Layla asked, her voice just a hair above worried.

"Yeah, just my fucking hands again. Last week it was my shins." He grunted.

"So either you're getting old," Layla teased. "Or a certain someone hurt themselves again."

"Yeah, just wish they'd quit it. It's really inconvenient."

"That's a bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

"What?" Marc asked, his brow furrowing as he watched the burning red marks blossom on his skin. Pretty, almost, if you were into that sort of messed-up body art.

"Marc, please don't tell me you haven't considered that every time you got hurt, your soulmate felt those pains, too?" Layla deadpanned with a sigh, most likely pinching the bridge of her nose. He could picture it now. She was probably pacing in the kitchen of her flat in Cairo; the sun illuminating her figure, making her curls glow in an amber light, highlighting her jaw as she frowned.

But the thought she triggered in his mind sent a stone dropping into his gullet. Had he really not considered that? He thought that maybe, being Moon Knight would… would dull the pains, or maybe negate them entirely. Or… was he just stupid and didn't put them into consideration?

If they can feel his pain, and he can feel theirs... what about when he…

But sometimes it felt redundant to think about and worry for someone he never met, but at the same time…

"Fuck." Marc hissed, wiping at his face.

"Oh, my gods! You haven't been careful at all have you?" Layla gasped.

"I…"

"Marc! You and the other two need to get it together and take it easy. You think you don't understand things? Imagine how your soulmate feels. They're probably going about their normal daily routines and feel it when you get shot! Oh gods, what about when we were in Egypt and you got impaled?" Layla murmured. "Gods, I almost forgot about… what about when you died? I don't even want to imagine what they felt."

Marc dropped back into the cushions staring blankly at the ceiling. She voiced the very thing he himself was hesitant to mention.

"I… I forgot about that, too." Marc said, his voice almost flat.

"I imagine they must have been confused when their mark reappeared."

"Fuck…" Marc groaned, feeling exhaustion suddenly creep into his body. But then, he jerked, gripping the back of his head. "Damn it!"

"Another pain?" Layla mused.

"God–yeah. Right in the back of my head." Marc grunted.

"Yikes. Your soulmate must not be having a good day." Layla chuckled.

"Whoever they are, they're accident-prone as all hell!" He grumbled, pouting as he rubbed the fresh sore spot.

"Pot callin' kettle, Maaaarc." Layla sang softly over the phone.

"Yeah, yeah. You sound like Steven."

"Good."

"Ugh, please don't say that." Marc said, a smirk cracking his mask of discomfort. "He's already nagging me."

"Okay, okay…" Layla quieted for a moment. "Hey, Marc?"

"Yeah?"

"I might take a trip to London. Maybe if I'm there, Taweret and I can run interference for you to give you a break." Layla suggested.

"Layla… You don't–"

"Already looking at plane tickets." She interrupted.

"Of course you are." Marc smiled. That was one of the things he loved about Layla when they first met. He was drawn to her. Her snark, her determination…

"Yeah. I'll pack a bag and hop the flight that leaves in a few hours."

"Wow, okay." Marc said, his eyes widening. "You're serious about this?"

"Who else is going to babysit you three and get Khonshu off your back if me and the Hippo Mama don't?" Layla jabbed playfully.

"Oh my god, you do not call her that." Marc snorted, shaking his head.

"She thinks it's a cute nickname. And she agrees with my plan, so…"

"Oh great. You two gonna just harp me and remind me to take my vitamins, too?"

"I mean, if we have to…"

"Ugh. You're impossible."

"But that's why everyone loves me!" Layla laughed.

"Sure, sure. And Layla?" Marc asked, looking at the mark on his wrist, a soft fond look in his eyes. It was blooming today, the rose.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem, Marc. Go hang at that bookstore and get a coffee or something, yeah?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You hurried up the stairs and rushed to your oven, frantically cursing with each step as you hauled yourself up the stairs and into your flat.

You practically ripped the oven door open, coughing as smoke filled your nostrils as the burned pastries greeted you.

"Damn it!" You whine, slipping your oven mitt on and grabbing the small pan with one hand.

Your phone started ringing and you spun on your heels to glare at the offending object secured to the wall.

"Oh, shut up, you–"

You felt the pan tip when you turned, the blackened treats threatening to fall to the floor, and without thinking you reached out with you other, unprotected hand and gripped it, before making a sharp yelp and throwing the pan onto the counter with a loud bang, blowing air over your burning and blistering hand.

"Shit, shit, shit!" You hiss, turning to your sink and hitting the tap for some cold water. The stinging subsided, if only minutely.

The phone rang incessantly again.

You dropped your shoulders and rolled your eyes with a groan, and pulled away from the soothing coldness of your tap.

But, of course, as your natural "luck" would have it… You trailed water onto your floor, and slipped into it, cracking the back of your head on the tile. Not hard enough to knock you out, no, but it was just enough to hurt, and leave a rather nasty bump.

So. There you lay, flat on your back, water still flushing into the drain of your sink, smoke detector now going off, and your house telephone ringing impertinently.

"I didn't do anything! Why're you guys always giving me the short end of the stick?" You shout at nothing in particular; maybe whatever gods could hear your lamentations and rueful words.

For extra effect, you flipped the bird with your uninjured hand.

Yeah.

Fate was a funny thing, all right.

Chapter 5: Link

#my writing #A Rose Under The Moon #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #layla el faouly #moon knight

112 notes · View notes

foxgangfoxgang · 1 year

Text

Blood Crown 2 (Yandere! King! San x Servant! Reader)

Warnings: Non con/ rape (mentioned), abusive nature, psychotic breakdown

You lay on the plush rug of San’s bedroom, you had less than 14 days to escape the psychotic king before he married you and bind you to him. San was as much a coward as he was an asshole, he wanted the marriage to be secret, he worried how his subjects were view him if he announced he was marrying some lowly maid. You were no longer allowed to be away from San, trapped in his bedroom from sun up to sundown. You were going insane being trapped in the room and it didn’t help the San got a sick kick out of forcing you to watch him fuck other servants, a form of punishment for attempting to end you own life.

You tried you best to blank your mind as San would praise them and belittle you at the same time. You would sit with your head lowly trying not to see the vulgar display, and as salt in the wound, San forced you to sleep on the floor like a animal while the other servants he fucked slept in the bed with him. Tonight was one of those nights, San and the Servant were out cold from their fun as you lay awake in a depressed mood.

You sat up from the rug and wandered into the bathroom the only other area with a window excluding the bed room itself. You peer out of it and see the drop is quiet far, enough to injure yourself, or kill yourself if you went head first. You push against the window wondering if you could break it, a slight nudged move the glass. You felt the gears turn in your head as you made a plan.

It would take 5 days but the time came for you to escaped San, it was late in the night as San had another servant in his bed. You sneak into the bathroom and gently push on the window till the glass popped out you vault over the open sill and brace yourself for impact. You’re body become weightless as you fall to the ground, but instead of being met with scratches from the bushes you landed on a body, you scramble off the person you landed on. It was one of San’s knights, you panic thinking he’ll drag you back to San. “I get that working in the castle is no fun...but it’s not worth ending your life” the knight sighed sitting up.

“Then again it is demon king San we’re talking about” the knight joked. You couldn’t help but giggle, “My name is Johnny, yours my lady?” he asked, “Y/N” you say. “Y/N...well mind telling me why you landed on me from king San’s bathroom” Johnny asked helping you up. “I’m escaping king San...he’s abusive to me and I can’t take it anymore...so I’m leaving while I still can” you explain. Johnny nods and sighs “Well...don’t take it from me, but...there’s a path in the garden that leads to the woods...take it and walk forward the entire way...you’ll soon end up at King Wooyoung’s kingdom, visit him and tell him you were sent by Sir Johnny” You nod taking in the information, you thank him and run to the royal garden. You follow the path and reach the woods without looking back you run into the woods.

The next morning was hell for everyone, San woke up to you missing, in a panicked state he orders for his guards search for you within the castle only for each one to come up empty handed. San paced his bedroom as he tried to figure out where you could be, needing to relax himself San walks to his bathroom and splash cold water in his face, chirping was heard as San turned to see a bird resting on the edge of his tub. “How did you get in here?” San asked aloud, almost like a response the bird flew out the open window. San’s eyes widened as he rushed to the window and clicked everything together. “Dammit...” he whispers his anger boiling “Dammit!!” San clenched the window sill, “DAMMIT!!!” San roared as he storms out.

He ordered for his knights to search the entire kingdom for you, San’s chest heaved as his blood boiled like lava, the enraged king thought of every harsh punishment. Suddenly San began to giggle, it wasn’t out of amusement, the king’s giggle turned into laughing, it soon turned into hysterical howling, San grabbed a vase and threw it against the wall breaking, he grabbed a picture frame and smashed it. San would go around smashing and breaking everything in his room, tears welled and ran down San’s face. San dropped to his knees as his laughing died down into pained chuckling, San ran his hand through his hair as he smiled insanely staring at the floor. “Oh my dear Y/N…you can’t and won’t escape me” San sighed. “I love you too much to let you go”

You drag yourself to the open path of the forest as you see a village ahead and pray that a nice family would take you in for the night. You walk through the quiet area as you notice most houses were dark meaning the owners were asleep. One house was lit up it was the largest house meaning whoever was there was rich, you whimper at your aching feet as you walk over hoping for help, you weakly knock on the door, moments later a man opens the door, he was handsome. He had lush pouty lips, sharp eyes that bored at your appearance, his skin was smooth and pale, his hair was an unnatural pink. “Why do you knock on my door at this hour?” the man asked, “I come seeking refuge, I have escaped a tyrant king who has abused and sexually assaulted me, I only need sleep for the night and then I am gone” you explain “Where is your destination?” the man asked his thick eyebrows quirking in interest “His majesty Jung Wooyoung sir, I was directed to walk to his kingdom for freedom” you say.

The man hummed as another voice spoke out, “Seonghwa who is that?” another male stepped to the door, he was much shorter than this Seonghwa, his hair was split in two colors blonde and black, he looked almost like a fantasy creature with his sharp and pointed nose, his doe like eyes, and his lips curling in a tiny smile. “A woman escaping a tyrant...she’s seeking refuge for the night and will continue her journey to Wooyoung” Seonghwa said. The other male gasped and grabbed your hands, “you poor thing you must be tired please come in, let us feed you and bed you” you’re pulled into the house as you are hit with the scent of sugar and wood, a fire was lit warming the area, two glasses were on a marble coffee table both half filled with wine.

The floor were cold as the marble actually soothed your feet. “I’ll show you to your room for the night, my name is Hongjoong this is my husband Seonghwa” why did those names sound familiar? You’re dragged to a large bedroom with a connected bedroom, the bed was massive, the sheets a pure white. “I’ll fetch some silks for you to sleep in, for now wash up” Hongjoong said. You take a long bath in the luxurious bathroom letting all the stress and worry melt away for the night. After your done you wear a silk night gown and walk back downstairs. Hongjoong and Seonghwa had papers on the coffee table both reading their own, “Excuse me” you speak up gaining both men’s attention. “I just want to thank you for your act of kindness, I’ll find a way to repay you both for this” you say “Nonsense, you’re very brave for escaping and tracking foot” Hongjoong sighed.

Seonghwa cleared his throat as you look to him “If you don’t mind me asking...who is this tyrant king you are running from?” Seonghwa looks at you with cold eyes, you look down “King San” you say. The room gets quiet for a moment the tension thick, Hongjoong’s warm aurora gone, his face pale. “King...San? King of the Light kingdom....San?” Seonghwa asked. You nod a yes. The room is once again quiet, Hongjoong cuts the silence “Oh look at the time, its quite late, we should all head to bed now” Hongjoong said. The bi-color haired man guided you back your room. “Get some rest now...you have a long journey ahead of you” Hongjoong said as you climb and bed.

Hongjoong closes the door as he turn to Seonghwa who is directly behind him, “What do we do?” Hongjoong asked placing his head on Seonghwa’s chest. “What we must my dear”

#yandere san #yandere kpop #yandere king #yandere #kpop yandere #yandere ateez #ateez san

134 notes · View notes